#jarvis protect

[jarvis-invest]

Understand how Risk Management System protects your stocks for long term investments and helps you achieve your financial goals with Jarvis Invest.

[augustusaugustus]

11.5 The Protection Racket

CATO: You were keen to see me alone. BROWNLOW: Yes. CATO: That’s all right, Sir. You don’t want to ask me directly. But he’s doing fine. Derek Conway. That’s what all this is about. Cheers.

MONROE: You had reason to believe Collins was planning an assault? CONWAY: I had reason to believe he was going into the bully boy business. MONROE: You knew Terry Railton was a target? CONWAY: There were sound reasons for not holding Railton, Andrew.

A strong episode contrasting Derek and Andrew’s styles of policing (and moral compasses). I find it interesting how human and sometimes even likeable they’re making Cato now that he’s about to leave. He’s a much more interesting character once they get past the first year or so of Irredeemable Villian.

[hershelwidget]

I’m in an Octopod type mood so here

The official spirit design! And also what it would roughly look like in some sort of transformers situation. lmao

Here’s what the spirit looked like in life/before inhabiting the ship

Pretty !

And now. Doodles that get progressively angstier

First one is a line right before Jarvis disobeys some very important safety orders. Second one is Jarvis a while after the Octonauts abandon them and the Gups, not fully understanding cause they thought they were protecting someone. Third one is Polly noting that the Captain broke a very special promise he made. Forth one is the both of them shouting that they never killed anyone (Polly because she never tried and never would, Jarvis because she did try and failed every time).

…bah! heavy stuff! i will come with fluff soon!

[lifesver]

april mckinney would simply go to the sawyer property with a gun if there was a chance her little brother wasn't dead

[palladium-poisoned]

back to being unhinged about this game

im gonna throw up at how cool and important j is

[stxrmxtsu]

you’ll always be alone…

…always remember that.

[tinyshyteacup]

Tw: cussing, angst, choking, bruises

Part 2

Words of Command - Part 3

The lights in Stark Tower dim on a gentle cycle—cool and golden like a fading sunset. You rub your eyes as the hallway stretches quiet and long before you, socks sliding soft over polished floors.

It’s late.

And you're exhausted.

You offer a tired goodnight to Steve, who nods with a warm smile from the common room couch, book half-forgotten in his lap.

Behind you… Bucky follows.

Silently. Footsteps so soft for a man made of steel and shadows.

You glance back at him. “You don’t have to follow me now,” you murmur, voice laced with sleep.

He tilts his head.

“Protection” he says simply.

Not a question.

A statement.

You bite your lip and nod—too tired to argue, too soft-hearted to tell him no. Still, anxiety coils in your gut.

You grab your Stark Phone and speed-dial Tony.

He answers after three rings, voice groggy and annoyed. “If this is about him eating toothpaste, I swear to God—”

“Tony,” you whisper. “He’s following me. Into my room.”

Pause.

“...Okay, that’s less funny. Still not my problem. Give him a blanket or something.”

“I don’t think he knows what blankets are, let alone boundaries,” you say, glancing at the man shadowing your every move like a silent sentinel.

“Yeah, well—RoboCop's not getting his own room until you've got him fully housetrained—Congrats, Thumbelina. You’re now the proud owner of a six-foot trauma-soaked heat-seeking murder puppy. Mazel tov.”

You sigh.

He hangs up.

You push open your bedroom door and slip inside, flicking on the lamp with a soft click.

The light spills across the room in a warm wash—cream walls, soft bedding, a shelf of books you haven’t had time to finish. It’s a safe space. Your space.

The Soldier follows.

And pauses.

Like an animal entering unfamiliar territory.

You move to the dresser, trying not to act weird. “I’m just getting ready for bed. You can—um… you can sit? Over there?”

He stands by the door. Watching.

Every mirror, every shadow, every flicker of movement, he tracks it all. Head snapping slightly, expression unreadable.

And then JARVIS speaks.

“Good evening, Miss. Shall I dim the—”

CLANG.

You whip around just in time to see him move—smooth and deadly, like a switch flipped inside his skull.

Arm raised, metal hand snapping toward a wall panel like he’s going to actually rip JARVIS straight out of the drywall.

“Shit—No!” you squeak, rushing forward.

He throws a glance over his shoulder—tense, locked in—but the moment his eyes meet yours, the storm stalls. His breathing is shallow. Pupils blown wide. JARVIS had startled him.

“Room compromised,” he says, clipped.

You place a hand on his arm—his flesh arm—and slowly ease him back.

“That’s just JARVIS. He’s… he’s like a ghost that lives in the walls, okay?”

He blinks. “...Ghost?”

You smile nervously. “He won’t hurt anyone.”

Slowly… so slowly… he lowers his arm.

But his eyes never stop moving.

You set your clothes down for the morning and glance over to find him standing in the corner, half-shadowed, metal hand flexing subtly at his side. Not speaking. Not relaxing.

Just watching.

“Do you… do you want to sleep?” you offer gently. “I could make a spot—on the wee couch, or…”

He doesn’t answer. But when you climb into bed, turn off the lamp, and settle under your blanket, you hear the smallest creak of the floor.

He moves.

He sits in the corner.

Back against the wall.

Facing the door.

Soldier on guard.

Watching.

Protecting.

Sometime in the night, you wake to a strange stillness.

The room is dark, but you can feel his presence.

Eyes heavy with sleep, you lift your head and see him still there—knees drawn up, eyes open.

He hasn’t moved.

Not once.

You whisper, “You can rest, too, you know…”

He says nothing.

But for the first time, his head tilts.

The soft hum of Stark Tower fills the silence like a heartbeat in a hollow chest. The skyline glows faint behind your blackout curtains, and somewhere distant, JARVIS murmurs about internal diagnostics.

But inside your room, there’s stillness.

You’ve long since drifted off to sleep, curled beneath layers of blankets, your breathing steady and quiet.

Across the room, seated in the corner where he’s kept watch for hours, Bucky or 'Soldat' is also asleep.

Or… trying.

His back is pressed against the wall, legs drawn in tight, arms rigid across his lap. He hadn’t meant to sleep. Hadn’t wanted to.

A whimper broke the silence. Bucky's head thrashed from side to side, his long hair flicking across his face with the movement. His metal fingers twitched and clenched.

But the moment his eyes had closed, the nightmare came.

His breath hitches.

It starts in his chest like a tremor, then takes hold—harder, faster. Metal fingers twitch. His jaw tightens. In the dark, his eyes move behind closed lids.

Russian words tumbled from his lips as his movements grew more agitated. Sweat beaded on his forehead as whatever nightmare has him in its grip tightened its hold.

Restraints.

Cold.

Hands.

Falling.

Needles.

The chair.

Pain.

The voice.

Pain.

That voice.

Pain.

"missiya" mission.

He jerks upright with a sudden violent inhale, like he’s surfacing from deep underwater. For a heartbeat, he’s not in Stark Tower.

He’s not in your bedroom.

He’s back in Siberia.

You jolt awake instantly—some part of your brain registering the shift in energy before your eyes even open.

But it’s too late.

The weight of a body is over you, the cold wrap of vibranium fingers tight around your throat.

He’s straddled you before his eyes even fully focus, breath ragged and guttural like a wolf mid-attack. There’s no recognition in his face—just movement.

You can’t breathe.

Your hands claw instinctively at his wrist—not to hurt him, just to get air.

Your voice comes out as a whisper, a desperate plea.

“Soldat—!”

The grip loosens instantly.

His eyes go wide.

Recognition blooms like a bomb going off in his chest.

He scrambles backward, nearly falling off the bed as his breath hitches and catches.

You swear for a second he looks at you like he’s seen a ghost.

“Handler,” he breathes, voice hollow.

A beat.

Then—

"Awaiting instructions, doll."

Ok—that's new—what the fuc—

The endearment slipped out, seemingly without his awareness.

Wait.

His voice.

You freeze.

The accent—it’s... lessened.

Still there, still faint, but there’s a tremor of something else beneath it. Something almost American. Like muscle memory from a past self is bleeding back in.

You massaged your throat, watching him warily. "What did you just call me?" you managed, your voice raspy.

You look at him—he’s curled into himself now, pressed against the far edge of your bed like he wants to disappear into the wall.

“Cryostasis?” he mutters.

A tremor starting in his flesh hand.

You frowned, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Cryostasis? What's that?" you asked cautiously.

His eyes darted to your face, then away, as though even acknowledging the question might be a violation of protocol.

"Cold comes. Then nothing." His odd new accent stumbled over the clinical description.

You whisper, “It’s okay.”

His head shakes—once, hard. “No.”

“That is not going to happen,” you say softly.

He doesn’t answer.

You reach for him—not fast, not aggressive. Just enough to brush your fingers against his sleeve. You’re shaking. So is he.

“I shouldn’t have woken you like that,” you whisper.

His eyes flash to yours.

“You shouldn’t come near me.”

He says it like a warning. Like he’s dangerous. A loaded weapon without a safety.

The morning light leaks into Stark Tower through sleek glass panels, catching dust motes in golden slants. The smell of coffee and toast drifts from the communal kitchen as the Avengers mill around in various states of half-awake bickering.

Tony is already three steps ahead, tapping away at a holographic interface while bemoaning someone using his milk.

You step inside, shoulders pulled in, your oversized hoodie swallowing your frame. Your neck is artfully concealed—layers of makeup, your hair tucked to one side, collar tugged high. You don’t want them to see.

Behind you, Bucky moves like a shadow—soundless but ever-present. His eyes never leave you. He doesn’t acknowledge the others.

“Jesus,” Clint mutters under his breath, low enough that only Natasha hears. “He’s still glued to her.”

Natasha doesn’t respond. Her eyes are locked on Bucky. Calculating.

Steve is seated at the far end of the room, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other—but when you walk in, his eyes lift over the rim of the mug. They soften. Then narrow.

Then shift to the Soldier.

Something is off.

Tony glances up from his projections.

“Morning, Thumbelina,” he greets, in that usual teasing voice he uses when pretending not to care too much. Then his gaze flicks to you again—and he stills.

You’re not quite fast enough with your coffee mug.

His eyes catch the edge of discoloration peeking beneath your concealer—faint, but unmistakable. A handprint, forming from throat to jaw. Not quite healed. Not quite hidden.

His expression drops.

“What the hell is that?”

You freeze mid-sip.

The room goes quiet.

Tony’s voice cuts the air like a blade. “That better not be what I think it is.”

Your throat closes. “Tony—”

“I knew it. I knew the 'silent Soviet scarecrow' routine was just a breath away from having a full-on Hulk-themed episode!”

Bucky reacts instantly.

The tension in his shoulders coils tight like a sprung trap. His jaw clenches, head snapping toward Stark like a weapon finding a target.

One step forward—fast. Direct.

“Back down.”

His voice is low, cold. His accent is faded but not gone—words flatter, more clipped. American ghosts clinging to Russian steel.

Steve’s head tilts.

Tony lifts his hands, mockingly. “Oh, look at that! RoboRambo speaks. Did they teach you that in murder school or is that the accent of a guy trying to remember who he used to be?”

Bucky’s fist tightens. Metal groaning.

Your hand shoots out, placing it on his chest.

“Doll,” he says instantly, like the word grounds him.

"Stand Down ... Please"

He nods.

But his attention doesn’t leave you.

Not for one second.

Steve stands slowly. Not threatening. Just observing.

“You hear that?” he says quietly to the room, gaze on Stark but words aimed at Bucky. “His voice. It’s… changing.”

“Changing into what?” Tony mutters, pacing slightly now. “The warm tones of someone who nearly crushed her windpipe in her sleep?”

Bucky flinches. It’s subtle—but it’s there.

“Tony, please,” you whisper. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh, no, I forgot—brainwashing, programming, whatever. But forgive me if I don’t want my employees being used as a therapy animal for the man who can snap necks like breadsticks!”

Bucky stares blankly.

None of the names or faces mean anything to him.

But the tension rising in you—that registers.

He steps protectively between you and Tony.

“Neutralize the threat,” he says coldly.

“No, no—” Your hands are shaking. “Don’t do that. There’s no threat. Tony’s just… being Tony.”

“Irritating?” Clint offers, trying to diffuse the moment. “Yeah, he’s great at that.”

Steve crosses the room slowly.

“Bucky,” he tries.

The Soldier’s gaze doesn’t flicker. His expression doesn’t change.

There’s no flicker of recognition in those eyes. Only patience. Obedience. A mind made of shattered glass slowly piecing itself back together.

You guide him gently to the table. He lets you. When you move, he follows. When you speak, he listens.

But when others speak?

He blinks. No comprehension.

“Why doesn’t he know us?” Natasha asks softly. Her words are for Steve.

“I don’t know,” Steve murmurs. “But the accent fading… that’s gotta be memory. It means someone’s still in there.”

Tony crosses his arms, looking you dead in the eye. “You need to be honest with us. If you’re in danger—”

“I’m not.”

“You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t,” you say. Your voice is small. “And he stopped the second he realized.”

“And then went right back to calling you ‘Handler,’” Tony snaps.

[lynlee494]

Not So Worthless - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight is out now!

Bucky Barnes’s family is indebted to Alexander Pierce, a powerful man who has preyed on him and those like his family for decades. There were only a few years of service left to pay his debt, but recently Pierce's brute Rumlow had been escalating in his violence. Fearing the inevitable and with no where to actually go Pierce can’t reach, Bucky had begun to accept his fate.

Then Bucky’s luck turns when a persistent advertisement for an insanely affordable apartment in Bed-Stuy interrupts his browsing at a bakery, the shop close enough to pick up the free wi-fi from the Avenger’s Tower.

Maybe there is a chance.

>>><<<

Clint Barton has a surprise new tenant that he is pretty damn sure there had been no application for. Likely Jarvis’s idea, the AI sparing some processing to help manage Clint’s apartment. Avenging and being a landlord took a toll.

Not a problem except the top floor – Clint’s floor – had been left empty save him for safety reasons. Which meant the only vacancy was right next door. And it turns out the new guy is hot. And maybe kinda in trouble. Which is so his type.

So many ways this can go bad, and Clint is sure he'll find all of them.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #7

Tony Stark had seen a lot of wild things in his life—aliens, Norse gods, sentient killer bots made by his own two hands—but nothing, nothing, could’ve prepared him for the day a literal ghost boy phased through the ceiling of Stark Tower and declared, “You’re my godfather now.”

Tony blinked. “…Did I drink last night?”

“No,” Pepper called from another room. “You’ve been sober for two years.”

“Right. Just checking. Then who the hell is this glowing child and why does he think I’m his godfather?”

Danny Fenton, age seventeen, half-ghost disaster and walking teenage trauma case, stood in the middle of the floor with glowing green eyes and the confidence of a raccoon that’s already tipped over the trash can. “Because I’m emotionally damaged and in need of a stable father figure who isn’t a power-obsessed megalomaniac with Oedipal issues.”

Tony stared.

Danny stared back.

Tony raised a brow. “Are you talking about your actual dad or—”

“Vlad Masters,” Danny spat like the name was poison. “He’s rich, insane, and wants to kill my dad and marry my mom. And I’m pretty sure he’s legally stalking me. So… yeah. You’re the anti-Vlad. Congratulations. You’re my godfather now.”

Tony looked like he was buffering. Then a slow, terrible grin crawled across his face. “…Hell yeah I am.”

And that was that. Danny Fenton moved into Stark Tower and the next day Tony updated the JARVIS files with: “New priority directive: Protect Ghost Goblin 1 (Danny Fenton).”

Then Peter Parker, long-suffering, perpetually confused, and not emotionally prepared for whatever was happening lately, stared as Danny literally walked through his bedroom wall and flopped onto his bed like they’d known each other for years.

“You ever heard of doors?” Peter asked, voice cracking slightly because holy hell the new godchild Tony was parading around was cute. Even if he looked like he hadn’t slept since the Cold War.

Danny ignored him. “Tony said I should ‘hang out with the spider boy’ because we’d be ‘trauma-compatible.’” He rolled over and stared at Peter upside-down. “Are you trauma-compatible, Peter?”

Peter looked to the heavens like they would help him. “I’m not emotionally ready for this conversation.”

“Cool. Me neither.” Danny pulled a full-size Fenton Thermos out of somewhere and sipped from it like it was a soda. “Wanna make out or emotionally repress things together?”

Peter sputtered. “Wh—WHAT?!”

Danny grinned with all his teeth. “That’s what Tony said you’d do. Panic adorably. You’re kinda proving his point.”

Meanwhile, Tony Stark was committing several war crimes from his living room.

“I’ve traced the GIW’s funding to three offshore accounts, two shell corporations, and one extremely sus Girl Scout cookie fundraiser. I’m calling in a missile strike in 3… 2…”

“Tony, no,” Pepper said without looking up from her tablet.

“Tony, YES.”

Tony had decided, rather quickly, that the GIW (Guys In White, a government ghost hunting agency that was somehow even more evil and incompetent than HYDRA on bath salts) needed to be permanently deleted from existence. Preferably with fire.

And when he found out that Danny’s biological parents had been working with them?

Tony sent Jazz a college fund with so many zeroes it crashed her banking app.

Jazz, who was nineteen, brilliant, and terrifying in the most Pepper Potts-coded way, politely declined Tony’s offer to adopt her.

Though she did let Pepper start mentoring her.

Within a month, she was managing several Stark subsidiary companies, speaking at conferences, and had already physically thrown three men out of boardrooms.

Tony watched her threaten a corrupt investor once and whispered, “That’s my girl—wait no, Pepper’s girl. Same difference.”

And then there was Dani.

Technically, Danielle. Biologically fifteen. Chronologically five. Personality-wise? A feral gremlin hopped up on ghost energy and sibling issues.

She and America Chavez met at a Stark Industries youth outreach event and instantly bonded over being “multiverse anomalies with authority issues.”

Now they were best friends, terrorizing New York and the surrounding dimensions like it was a competitive sport.

“DANI GET OFF THAT DINOSAUR.”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU’RE NOT MY MOM.”

“AMERICA PUT THE SORCERER SUPREME DOWN.”

“HE STARTED IT.”

Stephen Strange started keeping antacids in his cape.

Meanwhile, Dani kept calling Tony “Iron Dad” and trying to hotwire the Quinjet for “ghost girl reasons.” Nobody could stop her. Nobody even tried anymore.

And then—as if the chaos weren’t enough—Dan showed up.

Danny’s alternate universe self, aged up to 21 because time travel is rude, and fused with Vlad in a Frankenstein disaster combo of trauma, rage, and nuclear hotness.

Dan was chaos incarnate.

He crashed through a multiversal rift during breakfast and immediately tried to flirt with Loki.

Loki, sipping tea in the kitchen, barely looked up. “You smell like war crimes and daddy issues.”

Dan purred, “You smell like abandonment trauma and repressed bisexuality.”

“Stop flirting with the Asgardian war criminal!” Jazz yelled from across the room.

“IT’S CALLED DIPLOMACY,” Dan yelled back.

Vlad, for his part, tried to retaliate by showing up at Stark Tower in a suit and monologuing about betrayal, destiny, and how Danny was meant to be his son/heir/lovechild/successor/whatever.

Tony tased him.

No hesitation. No words. Just taser.

Vlad hit the ground like a sack of sad midlife crisis potatoes.

“JARVIS,” Tony said cheerfully, “Put him in a cage. Have it labeled: Delusional Walmart Dracula.”

“Yes, sir.”

Later, Tony sold DALV.CO for one dollar to Pepper, who then dismantled the company in less than 72 hours and donated the parts to ghost safety research in underfunded schools.

Danny cried. “You guys are like… functional, emotionally regulated versions of the Addams family.”

Pepper patted his head. “We try.”

One day, Nick Fury called.

“I want an explanation,” Fury growled, “for why there’s a ghost child joyriding a helicarrier, a teenager that can rip holes in space-time, a clone spray painting ‘eat my ecto-butt’ on Avengers Tower, and why the hell Loki is apparently married to a fusion of two ghosts!”

Tony just sipped his drink and said, “It’s called found family, Baldy.”

Fury blinked. “What?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

Peter, off-camera, shouted, “DANNY STOP TRYING TO PHASE THROUGH MY WALL I SAW THAT.”

“You can’t stop me, Peter!”

“YES I CAN, THIS IS A RENT-CONTROLLED BUILDING.”

“I love you too!”

And somewhere, across the infinite multiverse, Clockwork watched all of this with a sigh and a sip of tea.

He was going to need so much aspirin.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Helpless ~ Steve's Version

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / MUSICAL INSPIRED FIC MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Female!Stark!Reader

Word Count: 2,250ish

Request: song request: helpless (hamilton) for steve where f!reader is pining for him (and ofc he pines back)  and the 'sister' in the song is just best friend!tony 😼😼 (but none of the angelica/hamilton parallels! just tony noticing reader's crush and introducing them) love your work!

Notes: I changed the request a bit, but I hope everyone enjoys it!

“Ooh (hey, hey)

I do, I do, I do, I do (hey, hey, hey, hey)

Hey (hey, hey)

Ooh (hey, hey)

I do, I do, I do, I do (hey, hey, hey, hey, hey)”

The Stark Tower was now The Avengers Tower and tonight Tony was hosting the grand opening gala. He was currently following you around your small New York apartment, begging you to attend.

“Come on, sis,” Tony begged. “For me. You haven’t stepped foot in the Tower once and I want to get your thoughts.”

“Tony,” you sighed with a shake of your head. “I thought we agreed that I’m not meant for the spot light, that’s you.”

“This isn’t the spot light. I have a dress for you. Pepper’s going to be there. You don’t have to hit the red carpet or anything.”

“I don’t know, Tony—“

“Please, Y/N.” He reached over and grabbed your hands. “I almost died, remember?”

You rolled your eyes. “Really? You’re playing that card?”

“Come on! I just want my baby sis to have fun with me for once. Please.”

You new that when your brother was looking at you with this big brown eyes, it was hard for you not to cave. “Fine.”

“Yes!” He pulled you into a hug and kissed your cheek. “Let’s go! I can give you a tour and then you and Pepper can get ready together.”

~~~

You were Tony Stark’s half-sister, having been conceived by Howard Stark having an affair with one of this secretaries. Tony was twelve when you were born and immediately was attached to you. The Starks had kept you a secret to the world and Tony continued to do so at your request. Though you could tell that it was beginning to hurt him more and more. He loved you so much and was so proud of you, and he just wanted to share that with the world.

“The Tower is amazing, Tony,” you told him as the two of you waited in the elevator.

“I’m glad you think so,” he smiled as the elevator stopped and opened up, “because this is your floor.”

“Wh—What?”

Tony grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the elevator. “This is all for you. It has an office for your work, three bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, a kitchen, a dinning room, and a living room. JARVIS has it set up so that only people you approve can access your floor.”

“Tony… I…”

“Y/N, I almost died. You could have died. I can’t protect my baby sis if you’re out there on your own. Please, do this, for me? No one has to know about the floor or you. I promise. But this way, I know that you’re safe and we can even spend more time together and—“

“Yes, Tony. I’ll move in.”

“Yay!” He kissed your forehead. “Also, the movers are already on their way with you things.”

“Tony!” 

He moved away from your playful swat. “Hey! You know that I just love you, right kid?”

“I know. I love you, too. I’ll always be grateful for what you do for me, Tones.”

“Okay!” He clapped, rubbing his hands together. “Your dress for the gala is in your closet and Pepper and I will swing by to pick you up at 7.”

“Boy, you got me helpless

Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit

I'm helpless

Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in ‘em”

“I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight

We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night

Laughin' at my sister as she's dazzling the room

Then you walked in, and my heart went “boom””

The Tower ballroom as full of celebrities and government officials. There were groups dancing to the music and groups chatting while drinking and eating the hors d’oeuvres.  You had never felt more out of place. You were hiding against the wall with a drink in your hand, watching Tony charm everyone who wished to talk to him.

The soft ding of the elevator caught your attention. You lost your breath as a tall, blonde man where black slacks and a navy button down dress shirt stepped out. He looked just as out of place as you felt. His eyes somehow found your gaze and for a moment, no one else was in the ballroom but the two of you. But before either of you could make a move towards each other, the man was pulled in the direction of a group of government officials. 

“Tryin' to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom

Everybody's dancin' and the band's top volume

Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine

Grab a sister and whisper, "Yo, this one's mine" (ooh)”

You walked along the side of the ballroom, tracking the man. He kept being pulled into different conversations like he was important. He did seem familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Tony eventually made his way over to you, needing to check on you.

“You holding up, sis?” He asked softly as he handed you a new drink.

“Yeah, fine,” you mumbled, still focused on the man. “Uh, who is that?” You slightly pointed.

Tony’s brows furrowed as he looked over to where you were pointing. “Oh, that’s Capsicle. You know? Captain America?”

“That’s Steve Rogers?”

“The one and only. And annoyingly righteous as I always thought he would be.”

You shrugged. “He’s… cute.”

Tony’s eyes widened as his head snapped in your direction. He quickly studied your face. He had never seen that look on you before. In fact, you had never openly admitted to finding someone cute before. Most likely because you were too scared of what Tony might do. He looked back at Steve. There could definitely be worse people for you to find cute. He sighed and began to head towards Steve.

“Wait, Tony!” You quietly called. “What are you doing?”

“My sister made her way across the room to you (ooh)

And I got nervous, thinking, what's she gonna do? (Ooh)

She grabs you by the arm, I'm thinking I'm through (ooh)

Then you look back at me, and suddenly”

“I'm helpless

Oh, look at those eyes, oh (look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit)

I'm helpless, I know

Down for the count, and I'm drowning in 'em

(Helpless) I am so into you

(Look into your eyes and the sky's the limit) I am so into you

I'm helpless (I know)

I'm down for the count, and I'm drownin' in ‘em”

You watched anxiously as Tony made his way across the ballroom to Steve. Tony greeted him with a hand to his upper arm and the two began chatting. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you watched. Suddenly, both of them were looking at you and you met Steve’s eyes once again. They were the most beautiful shade of blue, you could have drowned in them. Right then and there you knew that you were screwed.

“Where are you taking me?

I'm about to change your life

Then by all means, lead the way”

“Elizabeth Schuyler, it's a pleasure to meet you

Schuyler? (My sister)

Thank you for all your service

If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it

I'll leave you to it”

“Where you are leading me to?” Steve questioned as he followed Tony across the ballroom.

“To the most beautiful girl across the ballroom,” Tony commented. “And trust me, I don’t introduce anyone to her.” They stopped in front of you and you were trying not to freakout. “Steve Rogers, meet Y/N Stark.”

“Stark?” Steve was genuinely surprised.

“My sister.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Steve,” you said, shyly, offering your hand.

He took it, shaking it gently. “Nice to meet you, too,” he replied.

“I’m going to leave you two to it,” Tony smirked. “But don’t do anything stupid. That’s my baby sister you’re dealing with.” Then he slipped off to rejoin Pepper.

“I’m sorry about him,” you apologized for your brother. “He’s really protective.”

“I didn’t even know he had a sister,” Steve said. “It’s not in any of the files.”

“Yeah, it’s a family secret. Fury won’t allow it to leak because Tony and I asked him to.”

Steve nodded and then nervously looked around. “Uh… I don’t… well… I can’t dance, but do you want to?”

You giggled. “You can’t dance and you just asked me?”

“Yeah, only if you want to—“

“I’d love to.”

“One week later, I'm writin' a letter nightly

Now my life gets better every letter that you write me

Laughin' at my sister 'cause she wants to form a harem

I'm just sayin', if you really loved me, you would share him (ha)”

You and Steve quickly became inseparable. You would meet for coffee in the Tower and go on walks around the block. The two of you talked about your lives: his before the ice and how he was handling the new century and yours being the bastard Stark. 

Feelings were growing quickly between the two of you but neither of you were confident enough to act on them.

“Two weeks later, in the living room stressin'

My father's stone-faced while you ask him for his blessin'

I'm dying inside as you wine and dine

And I'm tryin' not to cry, 'cause there's nothing that your mind can't do (ooh)”

“My father makes his way across the room to you (ooh)

I panic for a second, thinking we're through (ooh)

But then he shakes your hand and says, "Be true" (ooh)

And you turn back to me smiling”

Steve was nervous, more nervous than he had ever been. He had seen the way Tony protected you in just the little time he had known about you. So Steve felt like he needed to check with Tony before he asked you out. He found Tony in the lab.

“Hey, Tony, can we talk?” Steve hoped that his voice didn’t give off the nerves he was feeling.

“Sure,” Tony mumbled, focused on his suit. “What’s up, Cap?”

“I… Well, I was wondering if it would be okay if I asked Y/N out on a date?” Tony dropped everything he was working on and slowly turned to face Steve. “I— I know that we haven’t know each other very long but I have really enjoyed getting to know her more and I—“

“Stop right there, Rogers.” Tony moved his jaw around as he put his thoughts together. “I need to be honest with you. Y/N doesn’t go on dates. Some of it’s my fault. I’m always worried about her safety and people finding out the truth of who she is.”

“I would never do anything to hurt her, Tony.”

Tony scoffed. “That's what they all say. But… I know that you mean well, Rogers. And I know that I monitor everything that happens in the Tower so I will know if you do, do anything. And I mean, anything! Got that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Just… treat her good, Steve. She deserves everything.”

“I will.”

“I'm helpless

(Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit)

I'm helpless (helpless)

Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em (whoo!)

Helpless (that boy is mine, that boy is mine, ooh)

Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit

I'm helpless (helpless) (whoo)

Down for the count (yeah), and I'm drownin' in ‘em”

“Eliza, I don't have a dollar to my name

An acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame

All I have is my honor, a tolerance for pain

A couple of college credits and my top-notch brain”

“Insane, your family brings out a different side of me

Peggy confides in me, Angelica tried to take a bite of me

No stress, my love for you was never in doubt

We'll get a little place in Harlem and we'll figure it out”

“I've been livin' without a family since I was a child

My father left, my mother died, I grew up buck wild

But, I'll never forget my mother's face, that was real

As long as I'm alive, Eliza, swear to god you'll never feel so”

You could tell that Steve was nervous about something as the two of you headed back to your floor after meeting for coffee. When the two of you reached the elevator, Steve paused.

“Uh, Y/N, I, um… I have a question to ask you,” Steve stammered.

“Yeah, Steve?” You asked.

“Would you… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You smiled as you inhaled sharply. “Yes, Steve, I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Steve grinned, so giddy that you said yes. “You want to?”

“I do…. I really do.”

“I do, I do, I do

Eliza (helpless) (I do, I do, I do)

I never felt so (helpless)

Yeah, yeah

Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em (down for a count, and I’m-)”

“Helpless (yo, my life is gon' be fine 'cause Eliza's in it)

Helpless (I look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit, I'm)

Helpless

(Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in ‘em)”

“In New York, you can be a new man

In New York, you can be a new man

In New York, you can be a new man (helpless)”

[galaxygurlll]

Avengers Age of Ultron x Reader - Part 2

You were taken at the age of 2 to a HYDRA base. You get the powers of air, water, fire, nature, metal manipulation and teleportation.

When twins, Pietro and Wanda show up, you form a brother-sister-sister-like connection with them. They are also protective of you.

Once the Avengers show up, things start to change...

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Previous chapter

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/galaxygurlll

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-Y/n pov-

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“You brought that here?!” A dude in a metal suit says as he points to me as he enters and somehow deforms out of his suit, the others are already in there and asked Steve about me and, though cautious, allowed me to stay to see if they could help me. 

Steve stands in front of where I’m standing, “Tony. She needs our help. More than you might think,” He tells this, Tony dude, “Fine. Just keep her away from me,” Tony says and he heads towards the front of the ship and Steve turns to me. When he looks down to me, he sighs, “I’m sorry about Tony. He’s like this with new people,” He informs me whilst placing a hand on my shoulder and I flinch again. 

I watch his face drop again, “How long?” He asks and I’m confused, then, because of my voice, I hold up ten on my fingers then one. I begin to itch around the bracelet again and his face falls, probably from the comment. “Longer than a decade? Eleven years?” He asks and I nod curtly, “Eleven years?” I hear Tony call out, “Yeah Tony. So be careful what you do-“ Steve begins to say but then notices my itching and gently takes my hand, “No. No. No.” He tells me and I look up at him. 

Steve leads me over to a spare seat and sits me down, then walks to another part of the ship. I watch as a redhead walks over to this other dude who looks old. They begin to exchange words as he takes off his headphones then, this big, tall guy says something in a strong voice, then corrects himself. 

“Hey Banner, Dr. Cho’s on her way from Seoul, is it okay if she sets up in your lab?” Tony asks and I see an old guy, whose name, maybe last name, is Banner. He speaks up, “Uh, yeah, she knows her way around,” Banner dude tells Tony, “Thanks,” Tony replies then turns back to the front and says a few things to this JARVIS thing. I keep zoning in and out. My wrist felt more painful than ever. “You okay?” I hear Tony ask and I look up to see him standing in front of me and I nod slightly. 

“I know you're lying. I can tell. It’s a sort of a thing I have,” He tells me and I nod slightly again, “You got a name? Or?” He asks and I can hear slight caution laced into his voice. Gesturing him to my level, he kneels down to my height and I whisper in the same voice as always, “Y-Y-Y/n… n-n-no la-la-st n-na-name,” I inform him and he nods his head and stands up again to full height, “Nice to meet you y/n, sorry about before. I’ll do my best to help you. And to get that off your wrist… but how old are you” He asks and points to my wrist, “I-I th-thi-hink… thirt-irte-een,” Again, not spoken in the same tone and Tony looks really sad now but heads back to his seat at the front. 

“Natasha,” A feminine voice says next to me a few moments later and I turn to see the redhead, “I heard your name, don’t worry. I also can tell you’ve had it rough,” Natasha tells me with a soft tone, but, unlike Steve, doesn’t touch me which, I appreciate. “We’re landing, I’ll talk to you more soon, if you’d like?” She asks and I nod slightly to which, she smiles a little, “Great,” She tells me with a soft smile and stands up then walks to another part of the ship and stands there and touches her ear and I see her mouth move. 

I feel the ship land and see Natasha gesture me to her and I stand up and walk to her quickly, “Alright, first off, I’m not going to hurt you,” She informs me, “And second off, can I hold your hand? There’s a room you can stay in, I’ve been told to bring you there,” She asks me and, though cautious, I do trust Natasha so, I nod and see her smile. She carefully takes hold of my hand as we walk out of the ship. 

I’m in complete awe, though, I don’t show it at all. I’m still cautious that I may get hurt.

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-3rd pov-

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"The two enhanced?" Steve questions Maria as she walks onto the ship, handing him her tablet, "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Twins." Steve flicks through some videos of protests, "Orphaned at ten when a shell collapsed their apartment building. The younger girl you lot brought in," A blurry image of the girl, obviously much younger in the photo, turns up, "not much on her records as it states that she was brought in at the age of two. They wanted to see how young they could go with testing. Her name was also on there, y/n. Her last name wasn't clear as it seemed to be scratched out by something; like a burn perhaps."

Steve continues to listen to Maria as they walk out of the ship together, "Sokovia's had a rough history. It's nowhere special but it's on the way to be everywhere special."

"Their abilities?" Steve questions her, and as they walk inside and round a corner, she swiftly answers his question without needing to look at the tablet. "He's got increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. His twin, well, her thing is neural electric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation. The young one's got the capabilities of bending."

Steve just looks at her funny and so, she decides to rephrase her statement so that he can understand, but she talks more neutrally, "He's fast, she's weird, young one controls all elements imaginable."

"Well, those twins are going to show up again, and they probably want y/n back," Steve states, passing the tablet back over to her as the lift arrives, pressing the button only moments before causing Maria to respond with, "Agreed. File says they volunteered for Strucker's experiments. It's nuts."

"Right. What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?" Steve questions her with a little bit of sass in his tone of voice, "We're not at war, Captain," Maria informs him sternly as she tilts her head to the side, but he just responds with a serious, "They are."

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-Y/n pov-

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

As I sit in the med clinic that's attached to a lab, I very slowly lift the straw of what Natashia told me was a "Juice box," to my lips and take a little sip, and immediately fall in love with it.

Hearing chuckles though, makes me flick my head up immediately to see the red-haired female staring right back at me, and spotting this quick movement, she quickly raises her hands up and says to me, "No, no, you're fine y/n. It's all good. It's cute. Enjoy it. If you want some food, or more of that juice, just ask me, okay?" Leading me to nod and continue drinking the juice.

It says some words on the front, but I can't properly make it out since I can't read too well. "Grapefruit," I hear getting croaked out as I look for the source, before glancing towards the guy on the table, who, I believe, I got told his name was Clint? With this machine around him. I don't like those things, but I've been told that everything in this room is safe.

"It's grapefruit," He repeats with a slight twitching smile, and he receives a nod in thanks from me before we both get in tune with what the two women are chattering about in the room. Natashia is leaning onto the table beside Clint as she asks the doctor, "You sure he's going to be okay? Pretending we need this guy really brings the team together." My eyebrows furrow as that just seems plain out rude as she stands up fully, arms crossed. "There's no possibility of deterioration. The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous. His cells don't know they're bonding with simulacrum." My eyebrows furrow as this Dr Lady speaks gibberish, my brain hurting from the thinking. It's the most I've done in a long time.

Suddenly, "She's creating tissue," I jump as my body registers that there is, in fact, another person, a man, in this room that my mind, for some strange and wacky reason, had forgotten about.

I begin to zone out once more, my eyes scanning the mouths moving, registering Tony prancing on in, Clint joking about himself, that he's "going to live forever." I tend to know my surroundings better when, to others, I seem out of focus. But, I'm always watching, always listening, always---

"You're beverage, madam." Jumping out of pure shock, I, thankfully, miss knocking the drink that Tony is holding out to me (he dodged as well), another juice box of a different flavour, "I had noticed that that one was empty because you, my dear, are drinking air," he concludes. He, then proceeds to gently, and cautiously, attempts to take the empty drink, that I totally realised was empty, out of my hand, having to use a bit of force that cost him a little squirt of remaining juice from the straw in the face.

I feel like I should react to this, but I don't. Remaining as still as ever, Tony, now with a clean face from a towel that Nat had given him a a prominent smirk, handed off the juice box. Which, leaves me once more confused with having to read the flavour before drinking it.

But then, I hear his voice again, Clint's, from the middle of the room. I don't catch what he announces to me at first (I heard my name) and look up promptly, raising an eyebrow, urging him to say what he had just spoken again.

"It's strawberry... and pineapple."

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Next chapter

Part 3: Will write for soon! Hopefully!

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Tag list: @fatkish, @sliticaly

[gingiesworld]

Queen Of My Heart

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Bittersweet Ending, Arranged Marriage. Death

18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.8K+

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

Wanda Maximoff was everyone’s dream girl, the woman who had the most beautiful eyes, a smile that could brighten even the darkest of days, and a kind heart. Every man wanted her to be their wife, leaving many suitors to keep approaching her father about her hand in marriage.

“There’s another one.” Pietro groaned as he joined Wanda behind the counter of the Apothecary that their parents had owned.

“Why can’t they all just leave me be.” Wanda sighed as Pietro shrugged. “I don’t want to be with any of them, and it’s stupid to think that asking father would help them.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, but that’s just how it is. No one truly marries for love, they never have.” Pietro told her.

“But that is what I want, I want a partner who makes me smile so effortlessly, I want a connection that isn’t forced, it just flows naturally.” She told him as she organised some of the jars on the shelf, dusting them as she went along. “I want to be with someone who I see a future with, not just for financial gains. Someone who wouldn’t care what we had or didn’t have, I just want that type of love that makes everything in the world seem so superfluous.”

“You mean what you have with Y/N?” He questioned, earning a slap on the arm.

“Shush. Father can’t find out.” Wanda whispered. “He will kill both of us, but yes. I just want to be able to live with them on some farm and grow old with them.”

“Wanda, your mother needs your help in the kitchen.” Mr Maximoff approached the twins, a smile on his face. “We have guests coming over tonight, and a possible suitor for you.”

“Father, I don’t.” Wanda tried only to get cut off by him.

“I don’t care if you want this or not. This is what’s best for this family and your future family.” He told her firmly. “You need to learn to remember your place.” He told her before he left the shop.

“I guess this is it.” Wanda sighed as she gave Pietro the rag. “My life and dreams are officially over.”

“They aren’t.” Pietro tried as Wanda just shook her head before she disappeared towards the kitchen to help her mother.

“I’ve already laid out your best dress.” Mrs Maximoff beamed as she prepared the dough for her bread. “This is so exhilarating, you’re going to be a wife.”

“I don’t want to be a wife.” Wanda told her honestly. “Besides, I don’t know this man either.”

“I didn’t know your father, but I can’t say that I was against marrying him when he asked your grandparents.” Her mother spoke. “But, I can say that over the time I have spent with him, I learned to love him and we then had you and your brother.”

“I don’t want to learn to love. I want it to be natural, just feel it without even spending an unknown amount of uncomfortable time with someone who is only going to help keep father’s business afloat.” Wanda told her honestly.

“There isn’t a choice in this Wanda.” Mrs Maximoff spoke angrily. “You are a woman, this is your womanly duty to provide for a husband and build a family with him.” Wanda sighed and gave up fighting against her mother, knowing she won’t exactly see the situation as Wanda does.

The night soon fell, the Starks were a well respected family in the Westview, Mr and Mrs Stark had two children, Jarvis and Morgan Stark. Given there is a significant age gap between the two siblings, they both remained close. Jarvis being the protective older brother that his sister needed.

“Are you nervous, son?” Mr Stark asked as the carriage came to a stop before the Scarlet Apothecary.

“I am father.” He answered truthfully, having seen Wanda everyday since they were children, falling for her every time he saw her or heard her voice. He loved the sound of her laugh, although he hated that he was never the one who made her laugh. That only fueled his deep hatred for Y/N Rogers, the only one who has ever truly been extremely close to Wanda. Everyone in Westview saw both Wanda and Y/N as best friends, even one of the neighbors would joke saying that the two of them would fall in love and wed.

“It is going to be fine.” Mrs Stark reassured him, making him smile as they all left the carriage, the two gentlemen helping the ladies down the steps. “She would be stupid not to see such a fine man.”

As they approached Maximoff's residence, Wanda was too busy pacing her bedroom, soon moving as fast as she could when she heard her window open, locking her door before she saw Y/N climb inside.

“You know, you could always tell me you don’t need me anymore.” They smirked as Wanda sighed. “We had a date, and you never came and I got worried.” They told her truthfully.

“I’m sorry Y/N/N, but my father.” She tried before her eyes started to fill with tears. “He’s trying to marry me off to someone.”

“He can’t do that.” Y/N stepped closer to her, their arms soon wrapping around her, pulling her into their strong embrace. “That’s not.”

“He can do that.” Wanda sniffled. “It’s not like women have similar rights to men.”

“Well, you should.” They told her firmly. “Everyone is allowed to have the freedom of choice. It shouldn’t matter depending on your gender.”

“I just.” Wanda tried as Y/N ran their fingers through her brown locks.

“I will be here when you’re finished and I can hold you until you fall asleep.” They told her softly.

“But, what about your father?” She asked them, they just shrugged.

“I’m only going to be missing another talk on why I need to uphold the family name and join the military.” They told her, they gently kissed the top of her head before she left the room. As she approached the dining room, she could hear the voices of her father, Pietro and two other men, all of them laughing as the smell of whiskey and tobacco filled the air.

“Here she is.” Mr Maximoff beamed as she stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Wanda, dear, come on in and introduce yourself.”

“Hello.” She spoke quietly, doing a small curtsy before she caught sight of her twin's grin as he tried to hold in his laugh.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Wanda.” Mr Stark spoke as he took her hand in his, pressing a kiss upon her knuckles, she had to try to hide the uncomfortable feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. “Jarvis here has told his mother and myself an awful lot about you.”

“Jarvis?” She questioned as she looked at the tall man beside her twin. “I don’t think we have ever met, I’m sorry.”

“Wanda!” Mr Maximoff scolded her, causing her to flinch at the anger within his tone before Jarvis spoke up.

“It’s perfectly fine.” He told them both with a warm smile. “I know we have never uttered a single word to one another, but I have noticed you Wanda, I have noticed you everyday since you first moved here with your family.”

“Why have you never spoken to her?” Mr Stark questioned as Jarvis shrugged.

“Well, Y/N Rogers seems to always have her attention.” He answered as Mr Maximoff scoffed.

“I don’t care for that Rogers child.” He spoke bitterly. “They are just a military family, and soon enough Mr Rogers will have them shipped off into the next War and then who knows, we may never have to see them again.”

“Father.” Pietro stepped in, seeing how Mr Maximoff’s words had affected Wanda. “Y/N is an amazing friend and they have always been there for Wanda. Did you know they were also the one who had done all of my chores that time when I had broken my leg? I never asked them too, they noticed the amount of extra stress that you put on Wanda and they decided to help. They are always there for her when we are not.”

“Don’t you dare speak out of term to me, boy.” Mr Maximoff seethed as the sound of the slap had silenced the room. “You do not disrespect me in front of our guests, now get out of my sight.” With that, Pietro left the room in a hurry, holding his already bruising cheek.

“I’m going to check on my mother and dinner.” Wanda spoke quietly before she left the dining room. She had hoped that maybe some unfortunate circumstance would happen and they would cancel dinner, but just as she had entered the kitchen, her mother was already bringing out the food.

“We are going to feast like royalty tonight.” Mr Maximoff beamed as he took his seat at the head of the table, opposite Mr Stark. Everyone had soon settled in to take their seats, soon digging in and sharing small conversations.

“I know this may seem forward.” Jarvis spoke as he sat beside Wanda. “Would you like to accompany myself on a stroll through the park on Sunday, after church?”

���I don’t know, I have to help my mother with the shop.” Wanda tried as Mr Maximoff shook his head.

“I can help your mother, you should go on this date.” He told her sternly. “You may never find another fine young man like Jarvis again.” He turned to face Jarvis. “She will be there to accompany you, she will meet you at the park.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jarvis beamed, soon the rest of the evening passed by in a blur, Wanda soon finding herself helping her mother in the kitchen with the cleaning before they all had retired to their bedrooms.

“Hey.” Y/N whispered as Wanda entered her room. “How was it?” They asked as she sat on the edge of her bed after locking her door.

“Awful.” She sighed, running her hands over her face. “My father is all for it and what he said about you.” She stopped herself before she continued.

“I heard.” They told her. “Your father isn’t exactly tactful in trying to be silent about his distaste.”

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered as Y/N moved to sit beside her, wrapping their arms around her and pulling her into them.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, darling.” They told her, cupping her cheeks and wiping the tears that had threatened to fall. “I will always be here for you, however and whenever you need me.” Wanda looked into their eyes, seeing how the blue shone in the moonlight, she had always loved their eyes but seeing them in this lighting was something different, and she loved it. It was a sight she wanted to be able to see every night for the rest of her life. She soon leaned in and pressed her lips against theirs, their lips both moving in unison before she snapped back to reality.

“I’m so sorry.” She said as she moved away from them. “I didn’t.” She tried before Y/N cut her off, approaching her, taking her hands in theirs.

“It’s okay.” They gave her a soft smile. “Although, I have to be honest with you.” They sighed before continuing. “I have always wanted to kiss, I can’t quite recall in which moment I began to feel more for you, but I do.” Wanda shook her head in haste, pressing her fingers to their lips.

“Please don’t say it.” She whispered sadly. “As much as I want to hear you say it, I want it to feel amazing and in a moment that is special between the two of us, within a moment that solidifies that our union will be forever.” She moved her finger as she continued. “This isn’t that moment, if I hear you say those words I so desperately want to hear right now, it will shatter my already broken heart.”

“I’m sorry.” They told her before they stepped away from her slightly. “I uh, I should take my leave now.”

“Please stay.” Wanda pleaded as they moved towards her window. “I need you to hold me, just for tonight.” And that was indeed the start of the pair’s internal struggles. Y/N hated seeing Wanda accompanying Jarvis everywhere, ever since their stroll in the park, her father had urged her to go on more outings with her husband to be. She would even see as Y/N would pass her by in the street, her heart breaking little by little, just as theirs was breaking. Knowing that in this lifetime they will never have the life they had always dreamed about when they were just children.

“You can’t seriously think you can make a name for yourself with these knick knacks.” Mr Rogers scolded as he approached Y/N who was happily carving pieces for a new chess board.

“I don’t think that father.” They answered him. “This is merely something that brings me peace and tranquility.”

“I have arranged a meeting with my old Senior Officer.” He told them as he picked up a rook, looking at it between his fingers, a look of disdain on his face. “He will help with getting you set for joining the services.”

“I don’t.” Y/N told him, placing down their chisel and the King they were carving.

“I do not care what you do or don’t.” Mr Rogers seethed, throwing the rook far into the field before he gripped Y/N up to their feet by the scruff of their collar. “You have a family name to respect, we are a military family and you will follow the path that I have laid out for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Y/N spoke flatly, their eyes never leaving their father’s who then started to straighten out Y/N’s clothes.

“I will see you at supper.” He told them before he left, Y/N watching as he disappeared out of the field, not realizing that Wanda was approaching them.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She questioned urgently as she approached them, watching as they soon turned to face her.

“I’m fine.” They grumbled as they sat back down in their spot, grabbing their tools to finish carving the King.

“I found this.” Wanda held out her hand, the rook in which Mr Rogers had just thrown.

“Thank you Wan.” They smiled at her, her own smile widening at the nickname she had missed so much. “How are things with Jarvis?” They asked her, an edge of bitterness in their tone.

“I don’t like him.” She told them honestly as she sat down beside them, watching as Y/N’s hands worked on the small wooden figurine. “I can see that he likes me, but I just, I don’t think I will ever like him in that way.”

“But, this is what your father wants for you and your family’s future.” Y/N reminded her as she just shook her head.

“My father only wants the financial benefactors that come with this arrangement, he couldn’t care less about the family.” Wanda told them, before she turned to watch their face as theY concentrated. “I just want to be able to be with the one person who I am truly in love with freely, without any judgment from my father.”

“And how do you suggest you do that?” Y/N questioned, their attention soon turning to her, their faces close as they could feel her breath on their lips.

“I don’t know.” Wanda whispered, her eyes flashing between both their eyes and their lips. That kiss they had both shared, never really left her mind since the night it happened. “I just, I know what I want, I know who I want but I just.”

“Have to live up to our parents' expectations of us.” Y/N finished for her, their faces had somehow moved closer, their noses brushing one another. “I understand that perfectly.” They whispered sadly. “I want nothing more than to be able to remain here, marry the one woman whom I have only ever seen within my future and start a family with her.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Wanda questioned, not anticipating Y/N rising to their feet and stepping away from her, creating some distance.

“I think you know exactly what is stopping me.” They told her, Wanda soon followed suit and stood before them, taking a slow step closer.

“I want to hear it from you.” She told them firmly. “I want you to tell me.” She watched as Y/N closed their eyes, clenching their fists as they gathered themselves before they moved towards Wanda, faster than she had anticipated, she was pushed up against the tree.

“Because you are marrying another, and I’m clearly not worthy of such love nor a future with you.” They told her sadly, Wanda’s hand reaching up to cup their face. “It’s you, Wanda. It’s always been you.” They confessed, both of their hearts beating rapidly before Wanda soon pressed her lips against theirs, kissing them with such passion as Y/N pushed their body up against her own. Wanda moaned at the feeling of their tongue slipping through her parted lips, Y/N’s hand gripping the fabric of her dress, trying to steady themselves, trying to fight the urges they had. “We should stop.” Y/N whispered, after finding the strength to pull away. “This is wrong.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong.” Wanda whispered, Y/N’s head rested against hers as neither of them attempted to move away from the other. “This.” She held one of their hands in her own against her chest, allowing Y/N to feel how fast her heart was beating. “This is right, this is what it should be, but.”

“But you belong to another.” Y/N spoke sadly, their eyes glistening as they filled with tears.

“My heart is yours.” Wanda told them. “It doesn’t matter who I am with or wherever I am, my heart will always be yours. I’m just sorry that we couldn’t have the life we wanted in this lifetime.”

“I promise you that I will always find you in the lifetimes that shall follow this one.” Y/N told her confidently. “Maybe, in one of those lives, we will finally have our story written.”

“How can you be sure?” Wanda questioned, her eyes taking in Y/N’s for what she never knew would be the last time.

“My heart will beat as fast as it is now when it is in your presence.” They told her softly. “My heart will always know when it’s home. You are my home.” Wanda pressed a soft kiss to their lips before the two pulled away.

“But, what about now?” She asked them as they sighed.

“I want nothing more than to run away with you and start our story, but we both have our obligations here.” They reminded her. “You’re getting married, and Jarvis is a rather nice gentleman, he will look after you.”

“But, I want you.” Wanda tried, feeling disappointment as Y/N stepped away, feeling the loss of their warmth against her form.

“In the next life, we will have our happy ending.” They told her as they started to pick up their tools and chess carvings. “Besides, I have a family obligation I need to uphold.”

“Join the military and get yourself killed.” Wanda scoffed as Y/N sighed, observing Wanda as she wrapped her arms around herself, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“With every passing day we are dying, we are dying from the moment we were conceived.” Y/N told her. “It’s what we make of time we have that makes it count, and I can say that since the moment you came into my life, you made the sun shine brighter, the colours more vibrant than ever.” They continued before Wanda interrupted them.

“Don’t.” She spoke firmly, struggling to stop the emotions from falling through. “I am not going to say goodbye to you. I can’t ever say goodbye. Not to you.” She whispered as her tears slipped. “You aren’t leaving me. I won’t let you.” Y/N took a shaky breath before they approached her, only just within arms reach.

“We have to part ways, but I will always carry you in my heart.” They picked out the Queen and King in which they had carved. “You will always be the Queen of my heart. Always and forever.” They handed the small figurines to her, watching as she held them both close to her heart. “I will always remember you, Wanda and I will always hold you in my heart, until it stops beating.”

“I can’t.” She cried as Y/N pressed a lingering kiss to her head.

“You don’t have to say goodbye.” They told her softly. “Just promise me that you will continue to live your life, have a family of your own. I know Jarvis isn’t exactly the one you want to have a future with, but when you have your own children, that love you feel will be greater than any love story in history, because you will do anything for them, you will make sure they get to live the life they choose, they get to love whomever they fall in love with. Let them live the future neither of us had the chance to experience.” Wanda only nodded before she watched them leave, her sobs soon falling harder as they had disappeared. Wanda had never anticipated that that moment was the last moment she had ever shared with Y/N, especially on that night when they had returned home to find Mr Rogers drunk and hitting their mother. Y/N had jumped in to defend her, only to be beaten to death by their drunk father. Once the news had traveled about their death, Wanda had grieved for them, she had felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest, hoping that maybe if she had convinced them to sleep with her under the stars for one last time, they would still be here, but all she could do was honour their final wish they had had for her, to live her life and build a family of her own, giving her own children the opportunity of freedom, away from the family’s expectations. As much as she hated it, Y/N was right about Jarvis, he was a good man, a good husband and father to their children. It wasn’t exactly the life that she had envisioned for herself, but she was happy, she had built herself a family, taking away her own parents expectations of her own twins, allowing them to follow their dreams, something in which Wanda was never given the opportunity to do.

[defenestrationinc]

tony and loki have matching black suits with each other's name embroidered on the inside hem. tony's has runes of protection and loki's has a tiny emergency comm for JARVIS

[specialagentlokitty]

Avengers x teen!reader - memento

This is my first time sending a request. Can you do an Avengers x Teen reader where reader is 13-14 and she carries around this white stuffed bunny toy with a pink ribbon that's she's attached to because her older brother gave it to her please? - @1dontn33dabl0gn2m3💜

You had been in the avengers tower for a couple of weeks now, they hadn’t really seen much of you since you arrived and Al thought Jarvis kept them updated about how you were doing a few of them were somewhat curious about you but didn’t want you to feel pressured.

It was Bruce that had brought you back, after everything that happened with Loki, when Bruce was the hulk he had accidentally destroyed your apartment and realised you didn’t have anybody looking after you.

On a particularly quiet day you braved leaving the room you were given, heading to the communal area to find someone to help you get something to eat.

You were only hoping to find one person, but unfortunately everybody was there all sitting down to eat but it was Bruce who noticed you first and he smiled, getting out his chair and offering it to you.

“Hey (Y/N), how are you?” He asked softly.

Padding over you sit down and nod your head as quiet confirmation that you’re doing good.

It was Thor who noticed you were holding something in your hands under the table, and he looked at you in curiosity.

“What are you holding?” He asked with a grin.

With a moment of hesitation you lift up what you were holding, a white stuffed bunny with a pink ribbon, it was clear it was old but well cared for.

A few of the avengers tilt their head a little bit.

“Is that what we see you walking around with on the cameras?” Clint asks.

You nod a little, holding it a little bit closer to you.

“Don’t you think you’re a little old to be carry it around?” Tony asks.

The moment he asks that they see your face drop a little and his questions earns him a smack in the stomach from Natasha.

“Leave them alone Stark, I’m sure there’s a reason behind it they’re causing no harm.” Steve scolded slightly.

Tony raised his hands with a small grin and turned to you, his grin turning to a small smile.

“So, what’s the story behind the bunny kiddo?” He asked next.

Everybody goes quiet, looking at you but not pushing you into talking about it just waiting for you to say when you were ready.

It was quiet for a few minutes before your quiet voice broke through the silence.

“My… older brother gave it to me…”

Their faces softened, and it was Bruce who spoke up next.

“What was he like?”

The watched as you hugged the bunny a little tighter and a small smile appear on your face as you begin to tell them all about your brother.

From how he was your best growing up, protecting you, his job and how he travelled a lot because of it, his likes and dislikes.

They all smiled as they listened, watching your face grow brighter and brighter the more you talked about him.

A lot of them had already silently made up their minds they wanted to try find your brother for you, but they wanted it to be a surprise and they didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case anything went wrong.

“You really love your brother.” Thor smiled.

You quickly nod with a bright smile.

“I do!”

This made them all laugh softly, Natasha placed some breakfast down in front of you and gently ruffled your hair.

Until they could find your brother they were your family now, and to keep that smile on your face they’d do anything

[winterspiderpurrs]

I sent a prompt to someone years ago before I started this page.

Don't recall who I sent it to, so it's time to bring the idea back out and see if anyone was interested in using it!

***********************************************************

Peter never thought you could love more then one person. He wasn't even sure if he WAS in love. He just cared very deeply for a certain couple.

Lowly intern. Doesn’t get noticed. Doesn’t stand out.

He still is Spiderman, sticking to Queens and on occasion helping out in Hell's Kitchen. Small stuff.

But here he was, pinning after one Tony Stark and his husband the winter soldier Bucky Barnes. While pining after them, he realized that Tony was constantly a target, but unlike mostly of the "heros," he doesn't have the healing they do. Bucky puts himself in arms way to protect Tony, and even he isn't as enhanced as others either.

He may not be able to be with them. Atleast he could try to protect them. He develops a special thin webbing that could be sown into clothes.

Sneaking into the tower to start weaving the web thread into Tony's everyday clothes and even into Bucky's tactical wear. After much negotiations with Jarvis. Who promised to keep quiet as it helps his creator and spouse, but if asked well, he would have to tell.

He did this over a course of a year.

He doesn't get found out til someone catches Tony and Bucky off guard. At first, they thought Tony wasn't hit til they inspected his jacket and noticed that if it weren't for this thin webbing, he would have taken the bullet.

Then they were on the hunt for who did this. And when they find out it's an employee in the tower and then later that the person was also Spiderman. Well. That just makes things a bit more interesting.

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @6urmom @gullableh @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @kath-666 @hiireadstuff @nyxthedeity @highhopes1008 @sineminuse @hxsxxk-180294 @wordacadabra @hawkinsavclub1983 @buckingforbuckybarnes @purplefluffycows @raikan624 @avengemepercy @killerwendigo @winterjaysoldier @magnoliamoogle @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @huang-the-geek @joewhs @witchywannabe3263 @iyskgd @ironenemycollective @bumblebeebutter @sizzlingstarlightsky @buckybarnesslutshop @starstruck-cowgirl @angelicdarkn3ss @confused-simp-jpg @hufflepuffsforjoy @nicolebarnes @avatarobsessedgirly @escapismurmom @paige0103 @dollface-xoxo @read-just-cant-stop @sycamoregirl444 @raikan624 @iwritememesnotprophecies @imissbenswolo-blog @lcolumbia1988 @paintmekala @knowingnothingnoel @captain-shannon-becker @jainaeatsstars @mm4t @houseofthechaos @chachkid @escapefromrealitylol

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Tw: cussing, fluff, domestic fluff, did I mention fluff ? Bullying

Part 18

Words of Command - Part 19

The Tower kitchen hums with quiet domestic energy. Sunlight spills across the marble countertops, glinting off sleek appliances.

You’re standing on the cool tile floor, wearing soft linen and humming faintly under your breath as you fill a wicker basket—cloth napkins folded neatly, small jars of jam nestled beside freshly cut fruit, sandwiches stacked with care and wrapped in parchment.

You’re packing a picnic.

Simple.

But the tension in the room is palpable.

Tony leans against the fridge with his arms crossed, watching you like you’re juggling grenades instead of strawberries.

He’s in jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt, coffee in hand, but there’s an unmistakable stiffness in his jaw—shoulders taut, foot tapping with an irregular rhythm that gives away his unease.

“You know,” he says, breaking the silence with that trademark sarcasm, “I’ve seen some reckless things in my time—myself included—but voluntarily wandering off into a public park with a semi-rehabilitated ex-assassin still clinging to Soviet programming?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Not exactly my idea of a fun lunch date.”

You pause, blinking up at him as you tuck a thermos into the basket. “It’s just Central Park, Tony.”

“It’s just Central Park and James ‘I-killed-a-Kennedy’ Barnes.” He sips his coffee. “And don’t even get me started on our good friend McKenzie. Still trying to figure out how Hydra got their tentacles that deep without anyone noticing. Makes a guy paranoid.”

You sigh softly, placing a hand on the counter. “Bucky’s doing better. He needs sunlight... a break. And so do I.”

Tony gives a gruff sound, half a scoff, half a reluctant grunt of acceptance. He doesn’t like it. But he’s listening.

You glance at him gently. “I’ll be safe.”

“You better be,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean it, I’m not exactly dying to add Thumbelina to the ‘Missing in Action’ file.”

You give him a little smile, despite the tension. “I’ll be fine, Tony.”

“No, you’ve got that wounded bird thing that makes every guy with trauma think you’re some kind of emotional hospice.”

He frowns into his coffee. “Barnes is a big question mark, Sunshine. And question marks don’t belong in the middle of a sunny afternoon picnic with apple slices and gingham blankets.”

You nod, understanding, though your fingers still fuss with the basket—adjusting things unnecessarily, buying time.

“I trust him.”

Tony sighs, walking over and taking a long look at the spread. “I know you do. That’s the part that scares me.”

His voice is quieter now. Not biting—protective.

“I’ll keep JARVIS linked to your phone. If anything weird happens—any look, any flicker in his eyes—you call. Don’t hesitate.”

You nod. “You know I will.”

Tony’s eyes soften just slightly, but the tension doesn’t leave his spine. “Just… come back, alright? With all your limbs. Preferably unbrainwashed.”

You give his hand a squeeze as you pass by, light and affectionate. “Thanks, Tony.”

He grumbles something about “damn metal-armed super soldiers stealing the help,” but he doesn’t stop you.

Bucky’s waiting when the elevator doors open, leaning against the wall in a fitted charcoal shirt and dark jeans.

His hair is tied back, metal fingers flexing slightly at his side, expression unreadable until he sees you.

Then—there it is.

The shift.

His shoulders lift. His eyes soften. The lines in his face smooth. “Hey Doll.”

It’s said like a relief. Like a prayer.

His gaze dips to the basket in your hands. “You made all that?”

You smile, nodding. “For us. I thought you could use some time away from steel walls and security scanners.”

His brow furrows slightly. “Stark is letting me go ... outside?”

“He had reservations. But he trusts me. And I trust you.”

Bucky glances down. That hits something in him. He flexes his jaw, nodding once.

“Alright,” he says. “Guess I better make it worth your trust.”

And you don’t miss it—how he gently takes the basket from your hand without being asked, cradling it like it’s more delicate than anything he’s carried before.

You don’t miss the way his flesh hand grazes your shoulder as you step into the elevator together.

Not possessive.

Just present.

The sun is high and soft in the sky, hazed over with faint clouds that make the light gentler. Central Park hums with life—dogs barking, leaves rustling, the distant buzz of traffic beyond the tree line.

The air smells of fresh grass and warm earth. The patch of lawn you’ve chosen is tucked slightly off the path, framed by tall elms and speckled with dandelions.

You lay the checkered blanket down, smoothing the edges. Bucky watches you, kneeling beside the basket, quiet for a moment before he speaks.

“You always move like you think someone’s watching you,” he says, voice low, contemplative. “Like you’re being careful not to bother the air.”

You blink, turning to look at him. “Is that a bad thing?”

He shrugs, offering the ghost of a smile. “No. It’s just… real different from what I’m used to.”

You sit, legs folding neatly underneath you, a hand brushing back a wisp of hair from your face.

“Well… I’m not used to being watched. But you’ve been through a lot more eyes than I have.”

Bucky settles across from you, metal hand bracing against the grass. His fingers curl in, twisting a blade of grass from its root.

He doesn’t look at you directly, but his gaze flickers your way often, like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there.

“I used to watch kids here,” he murmurs. “Back in the day. Sundays after church. Ma’d pack bread and cold sausage, and we’d sit right near that pond.” He gestures to the water in the distance.

“It all looks the same. But I’m different. And they’re gone.”

He falls quiet again, eyes narrowing just slightly—but not in anger.

In memory.

Laughter bubbles over the field, three children sprinting into view. Two boys—no older than eight—and a little girl in pigtails dart past the treeline, chasing each other with a red ball.

Their joy is so pure it cuts through the static in Bucky’s mind like sunlight.

The girl squeals as she runs.

You smile softly. “They’re sweet.”

Bucky’s expression shifts. His eyes don’t leave the children, but there’s something else in them now—yearning.

Wonder.

And the tiniest flicker of grief.

“They’re loud,” he says, but there’s no edge in it.

Then after a beat. “I don’t remember if I sounded like that. That happy. That free.”

You turn toward him, your voice as soft as ever. “I think you did. All kids sound like that”

He looks down, pulling at the thread of the blanket. “I wish I could remember that. I’ve got memories now. Pieces. Sounds. But they’re like torn film reels. Don’t line up right.”

You reach for the thermos, handing him a cup of iced tea with a lemon slice floating on top.

Your fingers brush.

He stills at the contact but doesn’t pull away.

“Still,” you say gently, “you’re making new ones.”

He takes the cup, nods once. “Yeah. With you.”

You lift your cup, in a small celebration. “One picnic at a time.”

That makes him laugh for real.

It’s soft, a little self-conscious, but the sound is genuine—and rare.

The children chase their ball too close to the pond, and one of the boys trips.

Bucky’s body tenses instantly—he leans forward, eyes sharp, scanning the scene like a protective shadow.

His hand twitches, almost like he’s ready to run.

But the little girl helps him up. No harm done.

You place your hand lightly over Bucky’s.

You speak gently. “They’re safe. We’re safe.”

He exhales slowly through his nose. A nod. He stays still—but his fingers turn slightly, just enough to let them curl around yours.

“Just habit,” he mutters.

“I know,” you whisper. “Still… thank you.”

His thumb brushes against the side of your hand.

Tender.

Deliberate.

The sun begins its slow lean westward, casting golden light across the grass.

The air is gentle, rustling through the trees with a lullaby rhythm. You sip your tea and glance over toward the trio of children still playing nearby.

Then the shift happens.

The giggles falter.

You sit upright, sensing the tone change before you can hear the words.

The older of the two boys—taller, lanky—says something sharp.

His friend snickers.

The girl stands stiffly now, small hands clenched. Her smile is gone. She turns away, but the taller boy grabs her wrist.

"Freak," he hisses. “how do you even play if you've got this dumb thing ?”

That's when you both notice.

Her left arm ends in a smooth joint of pale blue plastic and brushed steel, shaped like a forearm and hand. The synthetic fingers twitch involuntarily, like a defense mechanism.

You rise at once, your instincts overriding hesitation. You move with urgency, but no anger—just concern.

Bucky follows silently, the plaid of the picnic blanket falling behind him.

You kneel beside the girl, your voice soft as ever. “Hey, sweetie… you okay?”

She nods, lips trembling. You reach out, not touching yet—just letting her know you’re there. “I saw your arm. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s strong, right?”

Her gaze flicks to you, wary but curious.

Then the boys scoff. “She’s just weird. It’s like a robot arm or something.”

And that’s when Bucky steps forward.

The boys fall silent, eyes widening as they look up—and up—at him.

In the sunlight, the gleam of his metal hand catches like a blade.

His silhouette is imposing, nearly mythic.

But his voice—his voice—is calm, low, thoughtful.

“You think that’s weird?” he says, stepping beside the girl, lowering into a crouch beside her. “Then what do you think this is?”

He slowly rolls up his sleeve, revealing the glinting lines of metal.

The taller boy’s jaw drops. “Whoa… that’s awesome!”

Bucky glances at you for permission—he always does, even now—and you nod.

The girl shifts a little, watching him closely. Bucky holds out his arm to her, letting her see the connection points, the movement of the fingers.

His eyes never leave hers. He softens, his voice a notch above a whisper. “I’ve been called worse than freak. But I’m still here.”

The boys now look sheepish. One of them tries to laugh it off. “We didn’t mean anything bad. Just messing around.”

You level your gaze at them—gentle, but firm. “You don’t have to mean it for it to hurt.”

Bucky doesn’t scold.

He just stands up to his full height. “If you’re gonna mess around, do it with people who want to play. Not someone who already had to fight hard just to be here.”

The silence that follows is thick. Not angry—just heavy with the weight of reality.

The boys eventually walk off, kicking at tufts of grass, their laughter muted.

You crouch beside the girl, who now watches Bucky with wide, bright eyes.

“He’s like me,” she says softly.

“Yeah,” you smile. “He’s a lot like you.”

Bucky kneels again, more carefully this time. “I didn’t always like my arm,” he admits. “Still don’t some days. But I want it to help people... and it's proof we're still here"

The girl nods. A pause.

Then she holds her prosthetic out to Bucky.

He bumps it with a quiet grin. “Nice to meet you, soldier.”

She giggles.

You and Bucky walk side by side. He’s quiet again, but in a different way—reflective, not withdrawn.

You glance sideways at him. “You we're really good with her.”

He watches you for a few beats longer, expression unreadable. Then he says, “She's a kid, she didn't deserve it.”

You look up at him. “Neither did you, Bucky”

The common room has been transformed into a makeshift theater.

Cushions, beanbags, and a worn sectional sofa are pulled in a wide arc facing the screen.

Popcorn bowls, a half-eaten pizza, and several mismatched mugs litter the coffee table.

Someone—probably Sam—dimmed the overhead lights and left only the side lamps glowing faintly along the wall.

You’re curled into the corner of the sectional, legs tucked under you, wrapped in a fleece blanket. Your head rests lightly against the armrest, eyes soft as they scan the room.

Bucky is standing by the far wall with Steve, both holding bottles of soda. Steve laughs at something Bucky mutters, shaking his head with that familiar, affectionate exasperation.

You can’t hear the words, but you can read the smile on Bucky’s lips, the way it tugs a little awkwardly at first and then settles—relaxed, real.

His shoulders aren’t hunched.

His jaw isn’t clenched.

He’s present.

He’s wearing the black long-sleeved Henley you like on him, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show the edge of his metal forearm.

The soft hum of casual chatter fills the room. For once, nothing feels dangerous.

Agent Collins enters in fuzzy socks. “Who’s ready for Princess Bride?” He bounces forward, a huge grin on his face, holding a bowl of pretzels like it’s an offering to the gods of social acceptance.

Clint and Natasha are already sitting together on the couch, an unspoken bubble of personal space around them. They aren’t touching—but the proximity says everything.

Collins either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Hey, mind if I squeeze in here?” he says, gesturing at the narrow sliver of couch between them. He tries to wedge himself in, awkward and overeager.

The pretzels slosh precariously in the bowl.

Natasha arches a single brow with the precision of a scalpel. Clint just blinks slowly like he’s calculating how much effort it’ll take to push Collins off the couch.

Before either of them speaks, Tony's voice cuts through the room like a well-aimed arrow dipped in sarcasm.

“Oh, by all means, Collins,” Tony drawls from his leather armchair, one leg casually slung over the other. “Insert yourself between two apex predators. What could possibly go wrong?”

The room stifles a chuckle. Steve coughs into his soda. Sam doesn't bother to hide his laughter.

Collins freezes with a half-sit. “I just thought—”

“No no, don’t let me stop you,” Tony gestures with his drink, smirking. “We always need someone to pull aggro when Natasha inevitably snaps a femur. You volunteering your own?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything—just slowly turns her head to look at Collins with a small, polite smile that’s about 97% threat.

Clint leans in, deadpan. “You should run.”

Collins blinks, realizes he is catastrophically out of his depth, and slowly backs off, returning to a much safer spot on a beanbag near the corner of the room.

Tony raises his glass mockingly. “To survival instincts. Some assembly required.”

Bucky watches with the same utter disbelief you'd expect from a man who spent seventy years being tortured and is now witnessing slapstick in a safe home.

Steve covers his mouth to stifle his laugh. “You okay, Collins?”

Collins looks up, sheepish. “Yes, sir... Captain ... I’m just… excited.”

You smile at them all, heart full. And then Bucky’s eyes find yours.

It’s not just a glance.

It lingers.

His gaze softens the moment it lands on you. There’s a shift in his expression, like your presence pulls something grounded to the surface.

He gives you a small nod—one only you catch—like a question.

You okay?

Need anything?

Want me there?

You answer with a tiny smile and a tilt of your head toward the empty space beside you on the couch.

The gesture is subtle, the kind you'd make to a wary animal—not a command, just an offer.

He hesitates. It’s the kind of pause Bucky always has before engaging with the unfamiliar.

But then, slowly, he walks over.

You shift your legs just enough to give him room. He sits, not close, not far—leaving a respectful distance between you.

The film starts.

You hear Steve snort softly as Inigo Montoya makes his famous threat.

Sam throws popcorn at the screen. Bucky? Bucky watches it like it’s a mission—eyes narrowed, posture upright. You giggle softly at his seriousness.

“Bucky,” you whisper, leaning in. “It’s a comedy.”

He glances at you, lips twitching. “Still a sword fight.”

You smile and let yourself settle back again, your shoulder close to his.

During one of the quieter scenes, he speaks under his breath. “Didn’t think I’d like this. But it’s… kind of nice. Loud, but not bad.”

He glances at you again. “You like these things, huh, Doll?”

You nod, softly. “Feels normal.”

He watches you a moment longer, then looks away before he can fall too deep into your eyes.

He fidgets a bit—his metal fingers tapping against his knee.

Then, as if he can’t stop himself “You looked real pretty today. At the park.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it.

“You always do.”

Your breath catches, warmth blooming in your chest.

“I’m not supposed to say things like that, right?"

You turn to him, voice even softer than usual. “You’re can think and feel whatever you want, Bucky.”

He finally turns to look at you again. “Yeah? Even about you?”

The air grows still between you. Not heavy—just delicate.

You don’t answer, not directly. But the way your hand rests on the blanket, palm open and just slightly toward him, says enough.

His hand shifts slightly closer.

A beat.

Then he threads his fingers with yours.