#something borrowed steve rogers x reader

[wandaromanoffroses]

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Requested

Warnings: 18+ content, breast sucking, fingering (R receiving), orgasm denial, strap-on use (R receiving), cock-sucking, vaginal sex, degrading, praising, profanity

Summary: Your husband, Steve Rogers, has been romantically and sexually starving you ever since he became an Avenger. After borrowing money from notorious crime leader, Natasha Romanoff, she breaks into your house to get what she's owed. However, when she finds you, his gorgeous wife innocently asleep next to him, you catch her interest and her plans change instantly.

Pairings: top dom!Natasha Romanoff x bottom sub!reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (nothing romantic or sexual happens)

Trigger Warnings: blood, gun wound, reference to implied SA (blink and you'll miss it).

“Y/n?” you nearly sent the plate in your hand flying to the floor, dropping it into the washing bowl before spinning around to see your husband in the doorway. You shook your head, sure that your eyes were deceiving you. He was never here even when he promised, never mind three weeks early. 

“Steve,” you said, drying your hands and rushing over to him but before you could pull him into a hug, he caught a hold of your shoulders to stop you. His touch sent a stab of pain into your chest and you were snapped back to reality, falling away from the lingers of a past moment you had momentarily forgotten wasn’t your present. You straightened your figure and took a step back, looking up at the man that had once been the light of your life, a guide in the darkness, someone special to share all the good with but now, he could’ve been a stranger.

You had been married for three years, together for five and the first few years would be the most treasured moments of your life. But ever since he had become an Avenger, it had consumed his sole purpose. 

Steve was always out fighting, carving his mark, making the world proud of his heroism while you stayed at home doing chores and completing mindless activities to pass the time. There was once a time where you could’ve sworn you saw Universes in his eyes. Now, his skin had been drained of colour and his eyes were rimmed with red as if he were a ghost that was forever cursed to haunt his loved ones. “What are you doing here?” you quizzed.

“I’m sorry," he said, bowing his head, “I’ve got into a bit of trouble, I wanted to make sure you were safe.” You frowned. 

“What trouble?” you questioned, “is there a villain after you? Can’t the Avengers help you?” You didn’t even bother hiding the bitterness in my voice. They were clearly everything he ever needed, what use were you to him? He sighed.

“Not exactly,” he said, “we should probably sit down.” You followed him into the dining room with caution in your steps, not taking your eyes off him. The walls were a fading, off-white, elaborate flowers twisted between leaves and detailed patterns, wooden panelling running along across the bottom. The light fixture in the centre was brass with three upturned light bulbs, the dining tables and chairs a polished rosewood. Steve had wanted the room like this because it reminded him of his Grandmother. It was awkward to clean and there was always a build of dust in here. You took a seat opposite him.

“What’s going on?” you said. He scratched the back of his neck.

“I know what you’re going to think but… alright I’ll just tell you. I took out a loan from someone a bit dodgy and I haven’t quite paid them back.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s ‘haven’t quite’ supposed to mean?” you said, raising your voice. 

“I haven’t paid them back, okay?” he exclaimed, “look, all I wanted to do was buy you a new house, I wanted to make you happy since you hate this one so much. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to spoil my girl.” Generosity – the easiest attainable remedy for guilt.

“Well, I see something wrong with borrowing money you can’t pay back, especially from somebody that can put you and other people in danger,” you said, pushing yourself onto your feet, “what were you thinking Steve?” He slammed his fists onto the table and you jumped, your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“Listen, I thought I would have the money by now. It’s not my fault I can’t see into the future, you know I wouldn’t have even thought about it if I knew.” You closed your eyes, exhaling a long breath, trying to keep your composure. There were a hundred things you wanted to say to him right now but it wasn’t worth it. You either lived in peace or chaos; either way, nothing changed. 

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you but they turned out to all be wrong,” you said, “so I don’t know anymore. Nothing you do surprises me.” You stormed back into the kitchen, not wanting him to waste anymore of your time. You had dishes to do and by now, the water would’ve gone cold. 

“Y/n, come on. You haven’t seen me in three months and this is how you’re going to treat me?”

“I have dishes to do,” you said, picking up the plate you had dropped before, polishing it until it shone in the dim light peeking through the curtains, “someone has to keep the house clean.” And clearly, it wasn’t going to him. You felt a firm hand on my shoulder and all the muscles in your body tensed.

“I know you’re mad at me.” You scoffed. Mad wasn’t the right word – it was an array of messy emotions tangled together that had been fraying for years. There was more than just anger here, that was just an old friend that had withered and grown back into something much more cruel now. “Just please… let me make it up to you. I could die on a mission one day you know, you never know when one of these moments could be our last.” He had tried guilt tripping you before – it was a simple yet effective way of shifting blame onto the other person to ease your conscience. These games were getting so predictable. 

“And I’d be the last one to know,” you said, “maybe if I was lucky, I’d see it on the news.” You placed the last plate on the drying rack, emptying the washing-up bowl before walking away to leave him standing in the kitchen, alone. 

..........................................................................

You had avoided Steve as if he were the plague for the rest of the evening, only tolerating him in the same room as you when you went to give him his dinner. If you were nothing but his little housewife, you may as well play the part and poke it in his face. While you were getting ready for bed, you had paused by his chest of drawers, remembering the divorce papers you had hidden beneath the shirts he had outgrown or didn’t like anymore. Most of them had been bought by you and you could recall a memory with your husband in every single one. Maybe another day.

You couldn’t sleep but you kept your eyes tight shut when you heard him enter and move around the bedroom. Why didn’t you just sleep in the living room?, you thought as he slipped under the covers beside you. You figured he’d probably leave before you were awake so in his mind, you wouldn't even know. Dickhead. You didn’t know how much time had passed but you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you see is blinding white.

“Steve, turn the lights off…” You let out a scream when a gunshot sounded through the room, colliding with your husband’s cry of pain. Your eyes flew open and immediately fell on the figure standing at the end of your bed, her ravishing, blood-soaked hair curled onto her shoulder, her eyes glittering with shattered pieces of jade. Your heart seemed to freeze in your chest. Natasha Romanoff – the most notorious leader of crime in the world. And she was here, in your bedroom. 

You turned to Steve and let out a strangled sob, the sight of scarlet soaking into the bed sheets making you dizzy. You heard the click of heels behind you and Natasha took a fistful of your nightgown before you could even process what was happening, pulling you away from him as if you were a mere feather. You screamed again and if it wasn’t for her strong grip on you, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

She waited until you were steady enough to stand on your own two feet, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her body. She was wearing a dress that emphasised all her curves and showcased most of her skin, your body flooding with dread. This woman was able to shoot Captain America without any protective clothing like it was nothing. There was no way out of this situation. We were doomed. I felt something hard in her crotch area, confused as to why she was carrying such a bulky item in her pockets.

“Leave her alone,” Steve whispered, his voice faint and overshadowed by anguish. 

“Get on the floor and don’t say another word unless I ask you a question or she’ll have to watch you die,” she snapped, “neither of us want that to happen, do we?” With resentment, he hobbled away from the bed, stumbling over to the wall and sliding himself down it, his hand clutched to the gun wound in his stomach. “Good.” She ran a finger down your cheek before beginning to trace your features, her head tilted to the side. “You didn’t tell anyone you had a wife, Rogers. Isn’t she gorgeous?” You shivered in her hold, her voice low and seductive. “What’s your name, pretty?”

“Y-Y/n,” you trembled, wishing you could strangle the butterflies in your stomach that her touch had provoked. This was insanity – she had just shot your husband and she was threatening to murder him yet she was making you nervous, in a romantic way. God, if only Natasha wasn’t so beautiful, this would be a whole lot easier. 

“Y/n Rogers?” she said, giving you a fake pout, “that doesn’t sound very nice, does it? Y/n Romanoff has a much nicer ring to it.” A crease formed between your eyebrows. What the hell was she implying? “Rogers, I’m willing to strike up a deal with you. But first, I’m going to fuck your wife until the only name she’ll remember is mine.” His eyes widened in horror and you let out a cry. 

“Natasha, that’s assault. You can’t,” Steve said. She smirked.

“Oh there won’t be any need for that,” she said, “it won’t take much for her to beg me for more.” She pushed you down onto the bed and straddled your lap, a pool of wetness already forming between your legs. This was so fucked up. “Give me consent and I’ll make you feel so good baby, better than you’ve ever felt. All you have to do is say the word.” 

You considered all your options but it didn’t take you long to decide since you only had two. You either let Natasha fuck you or you watched Steve die. You could treat it like a one night stand, you thought. You had never experienced one yourself but you’d read it in books so surely you would be able to do it.

Though you knew deep down, part of you wanted this. You were desperately touch starved and the thought of Natasha fucking you made you groan, heat rushing to your cheeks as the sound escape your mouth. You nodded and she gripped your jaw.

“Words bitch.”

“Yes,” you said, looking away from her in shame but she forced you to look back at her.

“Good girl,” Natasha said, lowering herself onto you and colliding her lips with yours, setting all your nerves alight. Her lips felt like velvet against your own, melting against you and setting a slow pace, letting you get used to the sensation. You couldn’t remember the last time Steve had kissed you, never mind like this. 

When your hand moved to her chest, she knew she’d won and she began kissing you with more passion, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasped and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue between the gap in your teeth. You didn’t even bother fighting against her, wanting Natasha to take full control and use you however she pleased. 

She separated your lips and began kissing your neck, her teeth ruthless against your skin as she began to mark you, leaving a trail of garnet blotches that would be seen by everyone. “Tell him how much you like this.” As much as you wished it wasn’t true, you were very much enjoying this. It was a terrible thing to admit to your husband but you had to remind yourself that his life was at stake here.

“I love it, I love being marked by you,” you said, “please don’t stop.” She pulled away when she reached your chest, reaching down and taking hold of your nightgown. 

“Can I take this off angel?”

“Please,” you said, ignoring that Steve was in the same room as you. You wanted this, you needed this, you hadn’t had sex in so long. Too long. She lifted herself off your waist for a few moments so she could discard you of your nightgown before continuing her path down your chest, stopping right before she reached your breasts. 

“So beautiful,” Natasha said before taking one of your nipples between her fingers and rolling it, earning her your loudest groan yet. She began to fondle the other roughly and the pain was soon replaced with pleasure that went straight in between your legs. You were a moaning mess beneath her, your forehead glistening with sweat and your breaths loud and sharp. “Listen to that, Rogers. Does she make these sweet, sweet noises for you? Do you Y/n? Tell me.”

“No,” I said, “only for you.” She tutted.

“Oh sweetheart, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said, “it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you now.” She ran her hands down your stomach and attached her mouth to your hardened nipple, your mind unable to decide what to concentrate on. She slipped her fingers beneath your panties and began snapping it against your skin, causing you to start bucking your hips into her. 

“I need you,” you said. You expected her to make you wait but her expression softened as she began sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them in Steve’s direction. “Look how she ruined them for me. If you weren’t so neglectful, this could’ve been you, Rogers. Don’t you ever forget that.” You gasped as the palm of her hand pressed against your cunt, brushing against your swollen clint. “So wet.”

“Natasha, please…”

“Beg,” she said, running her fingers through your folds and collecting your arousal, “let him hear you.”

“Please Natasha,” you said, “I need you to fuck me so bad. I need you inside of me, please make me cum.” Your words made her groan and you whimpered as you felt her push two fingers inside of you, giving you only a few seconds to adjust before she began thrusting in and out of you at a quickened pace. You felt a burning sting, grabbing her wrist to try and slow her down. “Nat, it’s too much, it hurts.” 

“What do you mean sweetie? Does he have a small cock?” There was a cruel glint in her eye when the realisation dawned on her. “He hasn’t fucked you in a longtime has he? How long has it been?” You were struggling to form coherent sentences at this point.

“Six months,” you admitted. He visited so little and he was always exhausted when he did, hardly even giving you any affection, never mind fulfilling your physical needs. You had shamefully been trying to fuck yourself for over a year now but you were either too embarrassed to keep at it for long or you were eventually forced to give up, too inexperienced to make yourself cum. You had never used more than one finger so you weren’t used to the stretch at all.

“You’re telling me your husband had access to this cunt anytime he wanted but he chose not to fuck you for half a year?” What a waste of such a perfect pussy,” she said, “shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel so good in a minute.” As if to prove her point, porn-worthy moans began to spill from your mouth as you were drowned in overwhelming bliss. She knew she had found that one spot inside of you when your noises became more intense and more wetness gushed from your entrance, the squelches of your arousal echoing around the room. You took fistfuls of the duvet beneath you in your hands, your walls began to clench around her fingers. But just before you reached your high, Natasha slipped her fingers out of you.

“No,” you cried, “I was so close.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Not just yet,” she said, “I want you to cum on my cock.” You blinked up at her in confusion, not understanding what she meant. Was she perhaps intersex? “Get on your knees.” You scrambled to obey her command, your thighs glistening with white and she smirked. “Such an obedient thing. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You did so without hesitation and she lifted up her dress and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a lacey bra and boxers. Your eyes fell onto her breasts that were full and sat perfectly, wondering how they’d feel in your hands and in your mouth. You were too distracted to pay attention to Natasha pulling down her boxers until a large, red strapon sprung into your face.

You were sheltered and didn’t have many friends so your knowledge on how two women had sex was low. You had accidentally come across some brief information about strapons while scrolling through social media, closing the app immediately and uninstalling it. You had never told anyone you liked women so any mentions of the topic made you panic and run in the opposite direction. Natasha noticed your hesitation.

“It’s just like sucking a cock,” she said, “you’ve done that, right?” You shook your head. Steve  was a very traditional man so you’d never done anything outside of the very basics. You had always wanted to explore more interesting options but you were too ashamed to ask or discuss any of your preferences with him. “God, so vanilla. Once I show you what you’ve been missing you’ll never want to go back. Do you want to try симпатичный (pretty)?” Her Russian Nickname for you sent a lustful thrum through your body despite the words being foreign and unknown to you. You knew there was only one correct answer to her question but you liked being able to show Natasha how much you desired to follow her orders.

“I’d love to try,” you said, “anything to please you.”

“Good girl,” she husked, nudging your mouth with the strap-on. Her other hand dug into your shoulder as she pushed it inside of your gaping mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Natasha kept going even when you started choking, tears slipping from your eyes and smearing your makeup. The sight of you, a perfect housewife she had ruined and made a mess of, only made her thrust the toy into your mouth faster, desperately turned on. When she was satisfied that you’d wet it enough, she pulled out, showing enough mercy to let you catch your breath. “You’re already such a good cock-sucker.” She ran her thumb over your plump lips. “Aren’t you glad I put these lips to good use, hmm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, “thank you Natasha.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“So polite. Get on all fours and look at your husband.” You hesitated a little this time, suddenly remembering Steve’s presence. You turned around and followed her commands, your gaze meeting with his. Steve’s pupils were drowned in pain and clouded his emotions so you couldn’t identify them, blood still gushing from his gun wound. 

“Natasha, I think he’s going to die,” I said, “his stomach…” She looked over and saw that he was on the verge of passing out, his blood loss now critical. 

“I fear you’re right,” she said, “I thought we’d have more time with him, shame. Don’t worry милый (darling), he’ll be alright soon.” You heard footsteps thundering up the stairs before the door was flung open and several men dressed head to toe in black burst into the bedroom. You wondered how she had summoned them so quickly but you were too horny to dwell on the thought for long. 

You tried to cover your exposed body, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden but Natasha slapped your hands away. “They won’t look my angel, they wouldn’t even dare. Don’t let them distract you.” You felt something prodding your entrance and you whimpered.

“Please,” you breathed as she circled your entrance with the toy, collecting your arousal. 

“You’re somehow even wetter,” she cooed, “did you really love your face being fucked that much?” Before you could answer she began to push the tip inside, your soaked walls showing no resistance. She didn’t give you anytime to get used to the stretch, pulling out before slamming back into you seconds later. The pain only lasted a few moments before it dissolved into pure pleasure as Natasha pounded into you like a wild animal. You arched your bark, the dirtiest sounds you had ever produced spilling from your mouth and echoing through the room. You somehow managed to lift an arm and point it towards Steve’s shirt drawer.  

“There’s divorce paper,” you strung together between gasps, “in that drawer. I already signed them.” The men followed your finger and moved towards them, aimlessly throwing Steve’s shirts onto the floor. You saw a pang of hurt in Steve’s expression but you didn’t care. He should’ve seen this coming and even if he didn’t, it was his fault anyway.

As the divorce papers and Steve were dragged away, you moved your hips in rhythm with Natasha’s to try and get the strap-on deeper into you, every brush against your walls sending electricity through your body. She gripped your hips, encouraging your movements, grunting each time you slammed back against her. Your groans changed when she found your g-spot again and after that, she made sure to keep hitting it, a knot beginning to tighten in your stomach for the second time that night.

“I need to cum,” you said, “can I this time, please?”

“Such a slut,” she said, “soak my dick baby. Go on.” You screamed her name as you released all over her cock, stars blinding your eyes as your body shook with bliss, each new wave stronger than the last. After the longest orgasm of your life, you finally finished cumming, liquid staining your thighs. But Natasha didn’t stop, moving her hands up to your ass and massaging your cheeks. 

“Natasha, I’ve already cummed,” you said, expecting her to finally pull out but instead, she tutted.

“We’re not finished yet,” she said, “If I wanted to, I could have you cumming all over this cock all night. We’re done when I say we are. You are all mine after all, gorgeous.” After the initial discomfort faded away, you were soaring back up to cloud nine, ready to do whatever Natasha wanted.

“Of course,” you said, “I’m all yours now.”

[holylulusworld]

Shy Guy (5) - Present

Summary: You grew up together. Bucky is the one. He’s just too shy to make a move.

Pairing: Shy!Bucky Barnes x Fratgirl!Reader

Sidepairing (friendship): Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: teasing, banter, friendship, fluff, making out, cocky reader, virgin Bucky, shy Bucky, mentions of Steve's sex life

Inspired by this ask: Shy guy ask and@dawn-petrichor-world​ made me do it…

Shy guy (4) - Past & Present

Shy guy masterlist

“Hmm…what else do I need to know, Stevie?” You eagerly take notes while Steve explains the complexity of asking a guy out without making him look like a loser. “I don’t want Bucky to believe he’s a loser.”

“Bucky is not a loser, but shy. He never kissed another girl,” Steve points at a picture of Bucky on the investigation wall he made for you. “That’s our target.”

You grin and lean back in your chair. “Please continue, Obi-Wan Rogers.”

He gives you a stern look. “Miss, if you don’t take my classes seriously, you can go home and watch a rom-com.”

“I’m listening,” you groan. “Go ahead. I need to know how to make a move on Bucky without scaring him off.”

“Alright,” Steve uses a pointer stick to point at the next picture. “That’s our goal. We want him to be putty in your hands but get hard at the same time.”

You lean forward to look at the picture. “Dude! Is that a dick pick?”

Steve snickers. “I googled Bucky’s name, and this was the first picture coming up.”

“You’re lying!” You stick your tongue out. “You can’t pin a dick on our investigation wall, Steve!”

“Why?” He shrugs your concern off and points to the next picture. “Before we get to the dick, we need to make him loosen up and ask you out. Or accept your invitation.”

“That’s a dog playing with a bone,” you wrinkle your nose. “Is that a metaphor or something?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “You’re like a dog with a bone. You sank your teeth into Bucky and won’t let up.”

“I’m not a dog, Rogers,” you snap at your friend. “I wanted you to give me advice, not turn this into a joke.”

“I’m not joking about love and dick,” Steve chuckles but keeps a straight face. “If you want him to dick you down one day, you’ll need to win his trust and heart first.”

“Good, that’s a start,” you take notes while Steve tells you about all the things Bucky likes. “Hmm…that’s good. Tell me more about his eating habits and the lingerie he looked up in his search history.”

“Our boy grew up so fast,” Steve sighs and gives you a wink. “You should see his search history. He’s an eager beaver when it comes to eating pussy and fingering a girl.”

“Oh,” you nod, and focus on taking notes, not the image in your mind. Bucky between your thighs, eating your cunt. “I like me a man who can eat pussy.”

Steve laughs. “Well, in that case, Bucky is your man. I watched him practice while watching porn. He’s got a skilled tongue.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Next step, we need to talk about his erogenous zones. You need to know how to touch him,” Steve continues. He points at his neck with the pointer stick. “Neck.”

“Neck,” you hum.

“Nipples. Earlobe. Lips,” he moves to his crotch. “At last, the divine meat stick.” He grins. “The dick.”

You giggle and snort. “Meat stick, got it.”

“Y/N,” Steve’s features soften when you look at him. “You need to make a move but don’t be too pushy. Bucky will shy away from you if you are too pushy.”

“Christ, I won’t shove his pants down to suck his dick,” you grunt. “Now back to the basics. Do you have an idea for the perfect first date?”

“Alright, miss,” Steve turns back around to point at the investigation wall. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Doll, you’ve got this,” Steve whispers as he guides you toward the frat house. “He’s over there, looking for you because he wants to borrow a book. You look stunning. This outfit shows the right amount of cleavage and ass. But it’s not slutty.”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath. “I’ve got this. Bucky Barnes will be putty in my hands.”

Steve slaps your ass, making you squeal. “Go and get him tiger.” 

Bucky is smart.

Like really smart.

He speaks over five different languages.

Still, he doesn't know how to talk to a girl.

It's not that he's not attractive. Girls do look at him. He's just too nervous to hit on a girl he likes.

It feels like his voice fails anytime he tries to talk to one of the girls from the frat house across the street.

Especially when he sees you.

It's even worse that you are friends with his best friend.

Steve Rogers. Quarterback. Golden boy. A girls' magnet.

“Hey Barnes," you quip as Bucky zoned out again. "Whatcha looking at?"

“What?" he slowly dips his head to glance at you standing next to him.

When did that happen?

“I was just...”

"Steve won't come back for a while. I think this week it's Carrie or was it Chanel?" you huff. "I'm telling you; he tries to break a record or something. I’m worried about his health. What if he breaks his dick? He won’t be able to win the upcoming game with a cast around his dick.”

Bucky chokes on his spit.

You giggle.

“Uh—what do you want here if Steve is not around?” He gets out before dropping his eyes to his shoes. 

“Hmm…On Friday night we will go out. Wear something nice,” you cock your head to look Bucky up and down. “Oh, and no hair gel. I like running my fingers through a guy’s hair when we make out.”

“What?” he swallows thickly. His cheeks turn pink, and he feels his heart start racing. “Y/N…I…what? Is this a joke?”

“You know how to get a girl’s attention,” you lean closer to peck his lips. “I hope you know I expect you to put that talented tongue to better use…”

Bucky gasps as you pounce on him to claim his lips. You slip your tongue inside, snaking it with his as you run your fingers through his soft curls.

“Barnes! GOOO! Barnes!” the frat boys chant behind Bucky’s back. “We knew you had it in you all this time. He will finally get laid!”

You grin against his lips.

“Aw, I always had a thing for virgins,” you coo. “I promise to be gentle, babe…”

“What just happened?” Bucky looks like a confused puppy. He runs his tongue over his lips to taste you again. “Y/N, why did you…I…what?”

“Bucky,” you place your hands on his chest and look him straight in the eyes. “I call dips on you.” You smirk. “We are friends since childhood, and I don’t want you to get laid by some other bitch. You’re mine.”

“Get laid,” he chokes out. “Oh,” his cheeks turn pink, and he chuckles nervously. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me, Buck?” you run your index finger over his chest. “I know you don’t see anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Bucky stutters. “We can watch a movie or order food.”

“Buck,” you lean closer to brush your lips over his quivering ones. “I will cook, and you can decide on the dessert.” You grin. “I heard you have a very talented tongue and are burning to put it to good use.”

He blanched, and chuckles nervously. “It’s a date…”

“It’s a date,” you say and fist his jacket to claim his lips again. “See you on Friday, Bucky baby.”

“STEVE! STEVE!” Bucky stumbles inside their shared room. “STEVE! She asked me out and…what do I do now?”

“Alright,” Steve wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulder to guide him toward the investigation wall. Steve changed the pictures to help his friend. “I have been waiting for you, Padawan. I will tell you everything about Y/N, women, and pussy…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Fluffcember Day 8 | Little River

Pairing | Avenger!Fiancé!Loki Laufeyson x Avenger!Fiancée!Fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff (Platonic)

Word count | 1.2K

Summary | You just found out you're having a baby, but since Loki is away on a long undercover mission you can't tell him about it just yet. Instead, you turn to your best friend, Natasha, to come up with the perfect way to tell Loki you're expecting. Once everything is in place and Loki is back home, you can't wait to reveal the news and see his reaction to your growing family.

Warning(s) | Established relationship ~ Fiancé/Fiancée, mentions of pregnancy, Loki getting the biggest surprise when he comes back from the mission.

A/n | This one-shot is written for day 8 of my Fluffcember 2023 Challenge. Writing for Loki is always a lot of fun for me (and I often wonder why I don't do it more...), so this was a hoot to write! I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this as well as helping me with the ideas, I'm happy to have you back! ❤️🎄

Events Masterlist | Sleepy back hugs | @buckys-wintersoldier

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Owner

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist

You're sitting on the bathtub's edge with your head in your hands, waiting impatiently for the timer to go off. The box clearly said to wait five minutes for the results, but these same five minutes feel like absolute torture.

And to top it all off, you're currently going through this moment alone because your fiancé, Loki, is on an undercover mission with no way to reach him. The universe's timing couldn't possibly have been worse.

When the alarm finally goes off, you practically launch forward, grabbing the test and looking at the result. Your suspicions are immediately confirmed when the test shows two prominent red lines: you're pregnant.

You can't help but let a sob escape from your chest because while you're thrilled, you're also sad that you can't share this moment with the person you're dying to share this with.

The topic of children hasn't come up too often in your relationship, though the few times it did, you two always came to the same conclusion: as long as you're still Avenging, you won't bring a child into this world.

But this plan has a significant shift, and you might step away from the Avengers sooner than anticipated. It's not that you haven't thought about it, but now that you're officially pregnant, that idea might become a reality.

First things first, though, you'll find Natasha so you can talk things through with her. To make this task easier on yourself, ask the AI for help.

''FRIDAY? Please tell me where Ms. Romanoff is at this moment. I need to talk to her.''

''It appears that Ms. Romanoff is currently in the living room with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. Do you want me to notify her of your arrival?''

''No, thank you,'' you tell the AI before changing into comfortable clothes; you can't exactly go out there in your underwear.

You left the test in your bathroom for now, and you head towards the living room to find Steve and Bucky cuddling on one end of the couch and Nat sitting on the other side, her body turned to them.

They're in the middle of a discussion about the next movie night since it's Steve's turn to pick the movie. He always chooses the same film, and Nat tries to convince him to pick something else, but she might be losing this discussion.

''She'll agree with me, won't you?'' Nat asks as you walk into the living room, and your eyebrows instantly shoot up, seeing how you didn't know what was happening.

''I'm sure I will, but that's not what I'm here for. I'm here to borrow you for a while,'' you say as you point towards Natasha, who gladly gets up to come with you.

''So, what's up?'' she asks when you lead her to your bedroom, where the test is still lying. The closer you get, the more nervous you get, but if there's anyone you trust with this news, it's Nat.

''Well... I- I have some news to share with you,'' you tell her, unsure where to start. She stops you in the hallway and forces you to look at her.

''Are you and Loki doing okay? Did something happen between you two?'' she asks, her brows furrowed in concern, but you quickly assure her that's not the case.

''No, god no! We're okay, we're doing great, actually,'' you say with a big smile, which Nat immediately reciprocates. All her worries instantly melt away, and how she feels about you and Loki is visible.

''But... there will be something changing between us though, and I want to show you exactly what,'' you say, and before you know it, you're in your bedroom, showing her the still very positive pregnancy test.

''Oh my god, I'm going to be an Auntie?! I can't believe it!'' she asks, and you nod your head before he flings herself around your neck, squealing in pure excitement.

When the first excitement finally ebbed away for a bit, you sat down on your bed with the pregnancy test still in your hand, and then the realization came flooding back that you must also tell your fiancé.

''How should I tell him the good news? Because I don't just want to spring this onto him, it's our first baby, so I want to make it special; I want to make it something he will never forget,'' you say, and an idea instantly sparks in Nat's head.

''I have the perfect idea, and you don't need many things for it!'' she says, and that's how the idea of how you're going to tell Loki you're pregnant is formed.

Exactly one week later, Loki returned from his mission, and after his shower, he changed into something comfortable. Now you're cuddling on your shared bed, making up for lost time.

''I love you so much, you know that? I can't believe I had to miss my beautiful wife-to-be for nearly two months...'' he tells you as he places a soft kiss in your hair.

''I missed you too, but I have a little present for you now that you're back,'' you tell him, and you wiggle out of his grasp, ready to grab the gift box you've prepared with Nat over the last week.

You grab an emerald green box with a silver bow around it and hand it to your future husband as you sit cross-legged in front of him. You watch intently as he unwraps it, lifting the lid, and he watches the sides of the box fall open.

Inside are the positive pregnancy test, baby shoes, and your small letter. Loki picks up the pregnancy test, and you can see tears form at his waterline.

''Loki? Is everything-'' ''I'm going to be a Dad?'' he asks in a small voice, accidentally interrupting you mid-sentence.

''Well, how about you read the letter?'' you tell him, and he grabs it, folding it open.

Dear future husband,

When you read this, you already know I am officially three months pregnant with your baby. Our little River will be born around Easter, and I cannot wait to meet them.

I'm very grateful to see our family grow, and I am forever thankful that you have given me the wonderful gift of our bunny. Our family will officially be complete once they're here, and I hope they will be just like you. Perfect in every way.

I love you forever and always.

~ Your future wife

As he reads the letter, you can see a tear or two escaping, trickling down his pale white cheek onto the paper. He reads the letter three, four, maybe five times before putting it down and looking at you.

''I can't believe it, we're going to have a baby!'' he says excitedly, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. He puts the present to the side so you can sit in his lap and cuddle him tightly.

That night, as you two are about to fall asleep, he pulls you with your back against his chest, and you let yourself melt into his touch. His large hand and long fingers are splayed over your belly, fiercely protecting it.

''I love you, hot mama,'' he tells you, and the new nickname has your cheeks heating up. And after exchanging a few more sweet nothings between you, you fall asleep in your future husband's arms.

You could not have wished for a better ending to this perfect day, and now all that's left to do is to wait for your little one to come into this world. But one thing is certain: River will be the perfect addition to your family.

[imtryingbuck]

You Promised

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: Steve and reader have an argument and Sharon’s there to cause trouble

Word count: 1,178

Warnings: Steve’s a dumdum, mentions of cheating, Sharon-ew. very very terrible writing. Ending is…well it’s terrible

Masterlist

Waking up in his old room at the tower, the memories of last night’s argument hit full force. Steve groaned as he sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he knew how right she was. He knew he had to fix things between them. He understands that she’s worried about him, he does. He just hates how it feels like he has to choose his job or her, because he truly doesn’t know which he would pick. His girlfriend who he loves or his job that he loves.

They’d been arguing ever since he came home with fresh cuts on his face.

“Steve all I’m asking is for you to take some time off from doing missions please!” She stood there with tears filling her eyes.

“It’s my job”

“I know and I’m not asking you to quit, I would never ask you to do that but at least do what Bucky does and take some days off, even if it’s just a few days every month! Please Steve”

“I can’t Y/n you need to understand!”

“I understand why you do what you do but you can’t keep doing every single day-“

“Don’t be dramatic it’s not every day!”

“It is Steve. You’re never home-“

“It’s my job Y/n!” He screamed at her.

“One, stop cutting me off! And two don’t scream at me again Steven. You nearly didn’t come home from the last mission, you nearly died” A sob broke past the barrier of her lips.

He was about to say something but then his phone started to ring “I need to take this Y/n it’s Sharon, why are you rolling your eyes?”

“Are you cheating on me with her?”

“W-what? Don’t be stupid!”

“Yes or no simple answer Steve”

“…No I’m not cheating on you”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’ve got trust issues I’m not like your ex who cheated on you every single chance he got!” His voiced was raised higher than before. He didn’t even bat an eye when she flinched at the mention of her ex. He didn’t let her respond instead he answered his phone.

“Yeah I’m on my way doll, alright, you too, of course I mean it” looking at his girlfriend “I’ve got to go”

“Y-you called her- you are cheating on me with her, I fucking knew it I just didn’t want to believe it”

“What?”

“Just go. Your girlfriends waiting for you”

“I’ll be home soon. Bye”.

Only problem was being that he never went home that night. He berated himself mentioning her ex, he didn’t even try and correct her when she called Sharon his girlfriend. He hated himself for shouting at her, not once in the three years they’ve been dating has he ever so much as raised his voice at her. Searching for his phone which was normally on his bedside table when the bathroom door came open.

“Oh you’re awake, just needed a quick shower” Sharon says as she stands there with just a towel covering her naked body, her wet hair leaving droplets on the laminate flooring.

“Yeah that fine, I guess. Have you seen my phone?”

“On the dresser, I put it there after I spoke to Y/n. She was quite rude if you ask me”

“Wait, you spoke to her?” And the realisation that she showered in his bathroom “Why was you using my shower?”

“Yeah I told her you was still sleeping and she put the phone down on me”

“Okay but why are you using my shower?”

“Mines not working” shrugging her shoulders “hey can I borrow a shirt please?”

“No. Get out”

“What?”

“Get out of my room Sharon.”

“Alright mr grumpy pants”

Just as the door closed he jumped out of the bed going straight for his phone. Ringing Y/n and not getting any response he grabbed his jacket from the back the chair and headed straight out the door to head home.

His heart stopped at the sight of Y/n packing all her things.

“B-baby what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving”

“No baby stop” every time she turned around to grab more things he was taking the things that was already in suitcase, out. “Y/n I’m sorry for not coming home last night the paper, baby please stop! The paperwork took me ages to get through. I ended up crashing in my old room”

“I told you I can’t go through being lied to and cheated on again, I told you and what did you do huh? You promised me Steve that you would never do that to me. You promised” The tears wouldn’t stop falling no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

“Doll I have never cheated on you, baby please believe me”

“Sharon told me Steve so just stop”

“Told you what? Y/n I’m not cheating on you please believe me!”

“That you two having been sleeping together for weeks. Move out of my way”

That, that made him stop. He wouldn’t lie if you asked him if he had a bit of a crush on Sharon when he first met her six years ago, but it faded away after a few months. When he met Y/n he didn’t think much of her then over the course of a few months he developed feelings for her, it took him over a year to confess his feelings for her.

Because of a lie that Sharon told now he was losing everything.

“Bab-baby she’s lying, I have never even so as much as kissed her! Y/n please please listen to me love”

“Why would she lie?”

“I don’t know but she is! Y/n, baby please I swear to you I have never even looked at another woman! I don’t want anyone that isn’t you”

“Why would she lie though Steve? Why was she in your room this morning? I rang you too apologise and to my surprise it’s her that answers, the she tells.. she told me Steve”.

“I-I don’t know. I really don’t. I was asleep and she came into my room and used my shower, I don’t know why she did but doll nothing has ever happened between me and her I swear!” He shakes his head “Y/n I love you, and I’m sorry for the argument last night. I’m sorry for earlier but doll I swear I’ve never cheated on you.”

“You’re telling the truth, oh God, Steve I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’’m sor-“

“Baby it’s okay! Stop apologising it’s okay, come here I’ve got you” Holding her tightly to his chest he repeats the words over and over.

~A month later~

“Baby, come on Buck and Sam’s here”

“I’m coming hold on!”

He sees her coming out of their bedroom and he can’t help but smile at her, as she got closer towards him he took her hand into his “I love you do you know that?”

“I love you too”

Sharon ended up transferring. Steve listened to Y/n by taking a few days off every week, their relationship was so much better now.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 24

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, descriptions of injuries, language, momentary jealousy, people talking through their issues like actual adults; references to the Eternals, the difficulties of immortality, and the Lavender Scare; Steve Rogers actively choking on his feelings.

✦ Word Count: 9.5k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

[Master List]

As they fly over the smoldering ruins of Midtown Manhattan, the city disappears behind them, giving way to towering trees and swaths of gray interstate. Small towns dot the landscape as the jet soars through the clouds, darting between the rose-tinged stratus and cumulus rows. Eventually, all you can see through the windows are the towering Hemlocks and blooming Maple trees of the Green Mountain National Forest.

You haven’t moved from your position beside Tony.

The physical sensation of imaginary eyes on your back keeps you from moving, let alone glancing away from the passing view. Was it cowardly? Perhaps.

But to see a look of disappointment on their faces; on Steve’s face, that would be the worst possible scenario. So, you guard yourself in the only way you can by focusing your attention on the coordinates you are nearing in on.

At least you knew that Sam and Maria were safe. Clint had been in contact with them when you arrived on the jet. They had managed to run to the roof when Rumlow’s gun jammed, allowing them to borrow an older model quadjet and escape. Hill was set to remain in the city, coordinating with search and rescue efforts as well as keeping an eye on the Legion situation while the Stark Foundation dealt with the aftermath of your collective failures.

“Uh, we’re one hundred percent on this, yeah?” Tony questions, dropping his voice to a lower register to keep the others from overhearing.

You glance down at the radar and then back out at the ascending tree-covered hill in the distance.

“Yes.”

“It’s just that, well, I’d like to keep this intact - ”

“Tony,” you force his gaze, “The coordinates are correct.”

He holds up his hands as if to say it’s your funeral. But just before you’re set to land, he pulls the autopilot offline and takes hold of the gears.

“Okay, seriously though.”

You give him a sigh, knowing why he was entirely apprehensive.

Below the quinjet, a few hundred feet down, was a continuous forest. Thick-trunked trees lined so tightly together that the canopy kept the ground itself from being viewed from above. There was nowhere to land, not a clearing in sight. And yet…

Slowly, you ease your hands over his.

“I’m friends with a very nice inventor and a very talented illusionist,” and before you can explain yourself any further, you push the throttle forward.

The billionaire gapes at you, seconds away from calling out for you to stop before the jet passes through a shimmering blue barrier.

You pass over the controls once again, allowing Tony to land the jet -

“Just over there, if you don’t mind.”

He’s wide-eyed, but otherwise silent, as he maneuvers the quinjet through the open field surrounding the imposing white Victorian-style house. You can feel someone’s presence behind you, but your eyes remain glued to the land in front of you.

As the wheels settle into the soft ground and the engines cut out, Tony drops his hands into his lap and turns his chair toward you, blinking owlishly up at you.

“So, you have a number for this inventor friend, or - ”

“Sorry,” you smile. “He doesn’t take personal contracts anymore.”

He gives a light whistle as he moves to stand at last.

“And when you said off-grid, you really mean - ”

“Land-line and solar. Paper records only. Can’t even find the information online.”

“Right,” he claps his hands together before he raises his voice for the rest of the team to hear, “‘Kay, anyone with a phone! Power it off, we’re keeping a low profile - don’t wreck it for us.”

At last, you turn to look at the others. You’re somehow surprised and not surprised at all to see Steve standing there beside you, staring down at you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

One by one, the rest of the team turns off their phones; Clint, Natasha, and Tony, of course; before the ramp drops down into the dew-kissed clover. Thor stalks off first, ready to be as far away from the rest of you as possible. The archer guides the redhead out, followed by Tony who offers a hand to Dr. Banner. Leaving just you and the supersoldier alone in the cockpit.

There’s that look again, resting in his too-dull eyes as he gazes down at your face.

“Come on,” you implore, gently pushing past him. “They’re waiting on me.”

“You’re bleeding. You know that right?”

Pausing just a step away from him, you glance down. Taking in your armor at last, you finally notice the crimson stains weighing down your white dress, the slow-dripping liquid that’s covered your left leg. With a sort of distant fascination, you take in the damage before lifting your gaze.

“I’m fine.”

“Athena.”

“I heal faster than you, Rogers. Didn’t even feel it. Now, come on.”

The supersoldier gulps down whatever words he was working himself up to say and instead silently follows after you, swiping up his go-bag from the bench as you descend down the ramp.

The late afternoon sun casts its golden light upon you all, leaving your skin with a sickly sticky feeling as you avoid the stares of your teammates. Tony’s straining his eyes against the sunlight just to look at the sky over the house, as if expecting to see the illusion at play from down here.

As if Sprite and Phastos would make a creation that obvious.

Past the old hand-hewn fences of a disused animal pen and the patches of wild violets, you make your way up the creaking wooden steps of the porch. The paint has long since chipped away, leaving flakes of the original gray-toned wood underneath the layers of white varnish.

“Uhm,” you finally chance a glance back at the others who have slowly followed after you. “Home sweet home,” you say as you push your shoulder into the unlocked door.

Stepping to the side, you allow the others entry. One by one they file into the old house’s central hallway. They carefully side-step the piles of books and manuscripts, while Clint unhelpfully flicks a light switch on and off with no results. Their movement alone unsettles the dust that drapes itself over every surface, their hands pull away from the walls and the cabinet only to wipe the gray mess from their fingertips.

“So, this is…” Tony draws out the question as he looks around at the strange configuration he’s standing in.

“My mortal residence, yes.”

He gives an unsure nod as if admiring the work of an elementary-aged artist and you suddenly feel even more uncomfortable at the notion of having any of them stepping foot in this place.

“Uhm, I need to go power on the generator. Top two floors have guest rooms; take your pick, nowhere’s off limits. Water should be good to run, it’s well-based. Just… make yourselves at home?”

Pressing past the tight line of people, you make for the front door. Grateful to have proper fresh air gracing your lungs as you break free. You can hear the low chatter of their voices as you disappear, probably questioning how they were supposed to make themselves even remotely comfortable in such a mess.

Releasing a breath riddled with tension, you round the side of the house where the generator box lies, covered with a simple blue tarp. In the distance, on the edge of the property where the grass grows tall and the deer like to graze, Thor stands in reflection.

With no hammer and no cloak, the dressed-down God appears to all the world as a moment of divine solitude. One you have no interest in disturbing.

It takes three tugs to get the generator powered up, and it groans and chugs as the mechanical engine kicks back to life. You can see lights turning on through the dusty window panes. But as you stand there, in the place in between two worlds, you find yourself unable to move.

Inside, the others await their host. Their likely bottled-up hatred and distrust toward your actions and decisions today remains. And across the yard, there stands your fellow immortal with his own list of accusations to throw at you.

Never before, in all your years of existence, have you felt such a massive urge to just… run away.

To disappear, in a flash, back to Olympus where you can hide out with your cowardice. Who were you, Goddess of many things? Today, surely, you were the Goddess of failures.

So, you press away from the house and move instead to rest your forearms against the wooden fence. At least, for a few moments more, this could be your own place of solace. 

The breeze ripples across the long grass, picking up the hem of your linen dress. The warm earth bares with it its own unique scent that helps guide you back to your senses. And, as you gaze down at the silver pendant still dangling from your neck, you take it into your hand.

Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to unclasp the latch, you just stare at the simple facing. Two raised vines twist along the outer shell before coming together at the top, where a single drop of flame shines downward.

You're snatched from your thoughts by the deep coo of Pallas as he soars down to the fence, landing just beside your right elbow.

“Sensed I was in trouble, did you?” you hum as your hand gently drifts up to his head. While your fingers graze over his soft downy feathers, you continue, “I’ve made a real mess of it. Should have listened to the All-Father long ago. Meddling in human affairs only leads to trouble.”

His approach is quiet, but not nearly soft enough to avoid your ears.

You turn to watch him, striding through the clover, haloed by the sun’s golden rays, as Steve nears your side. He’s stripped the upper half of his uniform away, residing in a simple gray t-shirt and his combat pants and boots. He lets out a long sigh as he moves to rest his arms against the fence on the other side of Pallas.

“You keep finding me,” you chide, eyes daring to meet his gaze.

He gives a slight shake of his head, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Well, you’re hard to miss. Immortal owl and all.”

The bubble of a laugh bursts past your lips before you can even hope to stop it. Your fingers accidentally brush over each other as he lays a careful hand on Pallas’ back. You pull away, inspecting your nailbeds with a sudden fascination.

“I just…” he trails off for a moment as if waiting for you to meet his gaze. And when you do at last turn your head to look up at him, you find the blue of his eyes to be nearly obscured by the bright light of the overhead sun. 

“I didn’t want you to be alone right now.”

You let out a scoff, “I think you’re the only one.”

An arched brow meets your words.

With a shaky sigh, you explain yourself, “I’m the reason the tower is destroyed, why Manhattan is on red alert. I let the mutant in, and Rumlow, and I didn’t stop either of them. Or the Legion bot. Hell, Steve, I let them get away with the Abomination without even a spare thought.”

“I thought Sam and Maria were there with you.”

“They were, obviously,” you push off from the fence, moving to pace the calve-high grass. “But it is my responsibility. My job. What honest use am I right now if I can’t even see a threat when it’s standing three feet away from me?”

At that, you turn, holding your arms out in an exaggerated motion as the anger; the bitter taste of guilt and defeat, coats your tongue. When you’re met with his silence, you pull your arms inward, absently rubbing at your bare skin as you look away from his judging eyes.

“I mean, just look at us.”

You stare at Thor, still standing at the edge of the property line.

“Two Gods reduced to this,” you glance over at the supersoldier. “I don’t even have a plan for you; for Tony. I can’t tell you where Ultron is or what he’s planning to do now that we’re out of sight.”

“And the rest of us,” you continue, “I mean! You and Barton seem to be the only ones stable enough to do anything right now. Tony hides it well enough behind his jokes and his sarcasm, but - ”

“I’m not.”

You blink, words fizzling out in your throat before you can voice them.

“What?” comes the strangled sound from your lips.

Steve heaves a sigh before he too pushes away from the fence and walks over toward you. His hands are balled into fists at his sides and he’s the one avoiding your gaze now.

“I’m not okay. Not after…” he clears his throat. “I saw hell down there today. My own personal hell.”

“Steve - ”

“No,” he holds up a quick hand. “It’s just… I don’t think any one of us is hanging on by much more than a thread right now. Even if we have to be.”

His hand, a warm and gentle weight against the uncertain world currently spinning around you, slides itself against your palm. He squeezes his fingers against yours and you find your feet becoming more grounded to the Earth and your head clearing up as you gaze into his shining blue irises.

“But… I think we can be… alright.”

A soft smile eases its way onto your face for the first time in hours as you look up at the man before you.

“You’re right, probably. Like always.”

“Hey,” his fingers wrap around yours even tighter now. “Don’t blow too much smoke, I don’t have the ego for it.”

While his eyes are fixed upon your face, you find yourself being pulled into a sudden tight embrace. You welcome the pressure, the feeling of security that drapes itself over your body as solace is found in Steve Rogers. His hands settle on the dip of your spine as you find your own arms circling his solid torso.

“Fine then,” you say, voice muffled against his shirt. “If we’re going to even dream of fixing this, I need to talk to Thor.”

At that, he gently pulls you back. A pinched brow meets your eyes and all you can do is shrug.

“I promise this place will still be standing by the time I’ve finished.”

He tilts his head lower, his gaze looking even more severe. You swat at his side.

“At ease, Captain. I know that my performance today speaks of the contrary, but I promise that I do in fact know how to be diplomatic when the time calls for it.”

So, despite Steve’s concerns, you still find yourself crossing the pasture to speak to the God of Thunder. You know that the supersoldier remains on watch, right beside Pallas, in case anything goes awry. But there’s a renewed force to your step as your desire to right the wrongs of the day pushes you forward.

“I think it wise that we refrain from speaking,” he calls over his shoulder before you even make it five feet away from him.

“Where would the fun in that be?” you question as you continue forward.

He turns, and already you can see the desire to fight gleaming in his eyes like a dancing flame.

Instead, you stand beside him, overlooking the valley of the forest laid out before you. The silence sits for a moment longer before you allow the words to come to pass.

“We are not our fathers.”

You can feel the turn of his head as he looks down at you.

“We do not need to abide by the role they set for us. We can, I think, make amends when the time calls for it.”

At this, you turn to face him fully. While his muscles ripple and tense with the memory of where you had just been standing a near hour ago, ready to rip one another to pieces like the times before, you notice the flicker of something else in his crystalline eyes.

“So, in this case, God of Thunder… I’m sorry.”

He sniffs, crossing his arms.

“We are better than mindless fights. Today, many lives could have been lost due to our desire to see battle. The ones we claim to love, those that we desire to protect, their very lives could have been forfeit thanks to our choices.”

His arms drop and a startling look takes place on his usually stoic face.

“I will not deny…” he begins, “That I may have been… brash in my actions. Though I do not regret them.”

“Of course,” you nod, allowing the words to pass. 

While you certainly didn’t agree with the sentiment, it would do nothing to further the conversation if you spoke that opinion.

“Now,” your tone lowers as you get to the heart of the true issue. “I believe that I was not the source of your anger today. Nor, do I think it was Ultron.”

He scoffs, looking away from you, “You speak out of turn.”

“I say only what is obvious.”

Settling a hand upon his large forearm, you force the God to look at you. His guilt-ridden eyes eventually dare to meet your gaze.

“What horrors did you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Now who speaks in lies?”

With a heaving sigh, Thor takes a step away from you. His boots kick through the billowing long grass as he reaches his next few words.

“I had a vision; of things to come,” he turns back toward you, his face open with a strange vulnerability. “I fear I will not find my answers here.”

“Where will you then?”

He scuffs his boot against the dirt, looking away as he answers you, “The Well of Wyrd.” Based on your incredulous expression, he elaborates, “I must seek out the waters where the Norn reside. They will give me the answers that I seek.”

“Fates,” your surmise.

“But better,” he immediately replies, unable to stop himself from comparing your pantheons.

A smile cracks at the corner of your lips as you cross your arms.

“Could your vision not be induced with the aid of some… say, mythical plants? I have several on hand.”

“Now that,” he points, voice raising to something nearly akin to glee. “That does surprise me.”

“I do hate to be too predictable,” comes the familiar phrase.

His smile begins to wane and you realize what is about to happen as the moment itself quickly approaches.

“How long will you be then?”

“You know I can not answer that. The Norn can be… difficult.”

“Well,” you sigh, chancing a look back at Steve. He’s still there by the fence, a furrowed expression on his face. “I can only wish you safe travels then, can’t I?”

“Since ripping one another apart is off the table for the time being,” he agrees with a jovial laugh.

Mjolnir comes soaring across the field, landing in his hand.

“Then yes, My Lady. My time here is done.”

Your gaze hardens, “You will return once you have the answers you seek, though. Won’t you?”

“Ah,” he guffaws. “To be predictable, would be tiring.”

You take a step back, and then another, giving yourself just enough space as Thor lifts his hammer into the air and soars upward in a sudden gust of wind that sends your hair and dress billowing backward.

He disappears over the horizon, cresting the forest’s canopy, before he vanishes from your line of sight.

You remain there for just a moment further before you turn to make your way back to the house. Steve is already jogging across the field to meet you halfway.

“What happened?” he questions, looking from you to the sky.

“He has business to attend to. Answers to seek that he will not find if he stays here.”

His features deepen into a severe frown, “More important than what’s going on right now?”

You give a shrug. Steve might be an understanding man, but the realm of Gods and visions would never be fully understood by a mortal.

“Apparently,” is all you can say in return.

While he doesn’t seem to like the answer you have for him, he nods and walks alongside you through the clover and overgrown grass.

“This is Vermont, right?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“Yeah. Athens, Vermont.”

He stops and you have to turn back to wait for him as he blinks, then laughs.

“You’re kidding me.”

A smile tugs at your lips, “Little on the nose, I know.”

“Very.”

“Hey, the price of land was good in the 40s. I couldn’t complain back then.”

You resume walking, Pallas ruffles his feathers as you approach. Steve nudges your shoulder with his upper arm and you can’t help but turn your head to look up at him.

“How much?”

“How much did it cost, you mean?”

He nods, a slightly boyish smile on his lips as he says, “Yeah.”

It takes a second, as you round the side of the house and near the covered porch, to remember the exact estimate, but it does come to you.

“Think it was… about five dollars for the land itself, thirty in clearing costs, and around fourteen hundred in building and masonry costs. So… $1700, give or take?”

Steve stares at you before his eyes slowly lift, taking in the three-story house, before they drop back down to your face.

“In the 40s?”

“The 1840s.”

He blinks.

You push his shoulder, walking away as you laugh, “Come on, Rogers. You honestly should know better by now.”

From behind, you can hear him making a little humming yeah, yeah I should before he follows after you, up the steps of the porch and back into the house.

While the others have at least moved from the hallway, the sound of your approach has garnered the attention of the billionaire, who sticks his head out of the archway left of the stairs. He leans against the wooden frame, crossing his arms, as he watches the two of you.

“Well, that’s nice. Glad you two can find some humor in the situation.”

Your smile falls from your face in an instant at the abrupt coolness of his words.

“Come on, Tony,” Steve sighs, trying to ease his way past you as if to stand as a human shield in front of you.

“No, no. By all means, laugh away. It’s not like we’re at our lowest point. In fact, let’s break out the good glasses and pop a bottle of bubbly,” he trails off, striding back into the main living room.

Seated on one of the cleared-off sofas, sits Bruce, with a large blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. The sound of Tony’s voice seems to cause an immediate agitation as the doctor clutches his head in his hand.

Tony remains oblivious to his discomfort, however, as he gently smacks his shoulder, “Come on, pal. We’re celebrating our unanimous defeat.”

“Knock it off,” Steve commands, tone low as he fixes his hands on his belt.

“Or, what? You wanna go a round like Blondie and 007? Speaking of, where is Break Point?”

“Gone,” you intone, meeting his dark eyes with a challenge.

His features drop for all of a microsecond before he forces an obnoxious smirk, “Fantastic. You know, this day is really shaping up to be one for the record books.”

“I think,” you start, pushing yourself past the two men to stand beside Banner, “We could all use a break away from each other. And then, when we’ve decided to focus our attention on the actual problem, maybe we can regroup.”

“You know what I think,” Tony starts to say, but Steve pushes a hand against the billionaire’s chest, effectively guiding him across the room.

“She’s right and you know it.”

“Well, just because she’s the Goddess of Wisdom doesn’t mean she’s been actually knowledgable in that struggle today - ” 

You force your attention away from the verbal sparring match, kneeling down beside Bruce instead.

“Hey,” you offer, voice lowered for his benefit.

Slow-blinking eyes meet your gaze from behind a shell of sweat-drenched hair as Bruce peers up at you.

“I’m not a startled animal.”

With a slight quirk of your lips, you reply, “I never said you were. But I can’t imagine that that - ” you spare a look over your shoulder where Tony and Steve are still going at it, “ - is helping the situation. Is there… anything I can do?”

He lets the question mull over for a moment before he moves to sit up.

“Actually, do you have somewhere more… uh, not… you know… isolated?”

Your heart drops, but you nod all the same.

“I might have somewhere more secluded if that’s what you need.”

Bruce nods, “Please.”

You offer the doctor your arm, which he takes with a very careful grasp of his fingers before you haul him up and usher him out of the room. The argument pauses for only a moment as the two men watch you exit.

While you hated the idea that Bruce felt he needed this, you understood that his situation was beyond your personal comprehension. At the Tower, before you even arrived, he had a whole system in place to deal with the aftermath of his transformations. But today had been unprecedented. So, with a weariness in your chest, you guide him out of the house toward the old barn at the edge of the cleared property.

Steve stares at the archway for a moment longer, having missed your entire conversation with Bruce. Even Tony seems a little surprised by your sudden exit as the fight drops from his shoulders and he begins to pace around the room.

He can hear the muffled words you’re speaking to Bruce now, all the way from outside, but he certainly can’t make them out.

“Really has a thing for Bollywood movies.”

The supersoldier turns only to find Tony kneeling down next to a cabinet overflowing with VHS tapes and a small stack of DVDs. He’s holding one in his hand, scrutinizing the cover image before he grabs another, and then another.

Steve looks away, out of respect.

You may have invited them into your home, your home away from Olympus, but that didn’t entitle them to look through your things.

“Hah, would you look at that,” the billionaire grins.

In his hand, he’s holding up a white piece of stationery with a triumphant look on his face. The paper itself has yellowed some around the edges, but the careful penmanship is still fully eligible.

“Aww, to my biggest fan, Minnie - Minnie? Enjoy this free copy on behalf of your favorite actor. All my love, Sri Kingo.”

“Tony, come on.”

“What?” he blinks, pulling the note away from Steve and clutching it to his chest like a rare treasure. “Tell me you’re not the tiniest bit curious. I mean - ” he stands up, holding his hands out toward the room, “How often do we get any kind of insight into this girl’s life? Mythology books aside. Which, did you know she was supposedly birthed from the head of her own father?”

“That’s enough.”

Something entirely dangerous flashes in his eyes as he snaps the words.

Tony tilts his head.

“Man, Romanoff said you had it bad, Cap. But I gotta say, this is quite the look for you. Anyway,” before Steve can even form a retort, Tony’s already smacking his shoulder and walking away. “Better claim a room before all the good ones are gone. Which does beg the question… why so many guest rooms? Little Miss Solo Artist doesn’t strike me as the kind to make friends along the way.”

Steve looks down at the maroon carpet, “None of us are, not really.”

The billionaire’s features sort of drop for a second, before he forces the act of nonchalance back into place.

“Won’t hear me admitting that any time soon,” he says, swiping down to gather his go-bag before he backs out of the room.

With him gone, Steve finally takes the time to look around the living space. It was like a strange amalgamation of time periods all stuffed into one room. It looked far more lived in than the temple back on Olympus ever had. Here there were no halls of marble or columns of gold. Everything was not neat and kept perfectly clean. What a strange dichotomy for the literal goddess who walked among men.

Leaving the room as he found it, Steve returns to the hallway where his own bag lies in a heap. Shouldering the duffle bag, he heads up the stairs. On the second floor, the hall splits off in two directions. He can hear water running somewhere on the right and muffled voices to the left. Looking toward the second set of stairs, Steve ascends to the final floor which holds only silence for him when he steps off.

Under his feet, the floorboards creak. In the sliver of sunlight peaking in through the windows, dust particles dance in haloed rays.

He finds a series of doors, all cracked open, and just chooses one along the right-hand side of the hall.

The room is musty but otherwise tidy. A canopy bed resides in the center of the room with a set of dressers occupying the rest of the space. He drops the bag down on the lilac-colored bedspread before taking a seat on the edge of the bed to begin pulling the rest of his uniform off.

As he yanks his boots free, he glances around at the scarcely decorated bedroom.

A very faint rose-patterned wallpaper covers the majority of the walls. There’s a standing mirror in the corner just opposite of where he’s sitting. And two windows; one overlooking the back of the property and the other overlooking the pasture and pen.

When he stands to begin pulling his pants free, he notices a figure walking across the yard. He nears the window and watches as you walk away from the wooden barn, chancing a look over your shoulder as you go.

A frown forms on his face when he looks back at the barn, realizing, after a beat, what’s happened.

Pulling away from the window sill, he tugs off the pants to his uniform and quickly digs out the spare set of jeans he has stowed away in his bag. For good measure, he switches out his socks as well.

After zipping the duffle closed, he carefully sets it down beside the standing dresser. That’s when his attention falls to two simple wooden frames residing on the lace runner on top of the set of drawers.

He can’t help it as he picks up the one directly in front of him.

He’s transfixed, staring down into your sepia-toned eyes as you look toward the camera.

Dressed in an elegant shirtwaist dress, your arm is carefully resting on the back of the chair where a man is sitting. He’s handsome, with tight-coiled hair and a bright grin as he gazes up at the camera too.

There’s a white flower, pressed and preserved, in between the portrait and glass frame.

Steve tries to set it down just as he found it, his fingers carefully rearrange the lace runner as he takes a step away. The other framed picture is that of a watercolored beach, with the word Caloundra in puffy yellow words above the painted skyline. But his eyes drift back to the portrait.

You look happy.

And while it was foolish of him to presume that your attachment to the human race had only been a recent occurrence, he knew how implausible that was. You even said it yourself, you had been working at SHIELD since Peggy was director. The house was from the 19th century. Clearly, you had people and acquaintances outside of this strange group of superhumans.

So, why does it tug at something in his chest with such a painful grasp when he sees you in this picture?

He wasn’t the first. Maybe that was it. The fact that he wasn’t the only man in human history to have wanted more of your time, to get to know you in such a deep fashion.

“Hey.”

Steve startles back, looking up with widened eyes as you gently push the door of his room open.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to - ” You gesture vaguely at him. “I just wanted to see if you were settled in okay.”

“Yeah, I mean. Yeah, I’m good.”

You give him a little nod as your lips form a slight pout. You’ve changed clothes since he last saw you and he’s grateful to note that any signs of dried blood have since been cleaned away. Steve stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“Okay, well, I was just doing the rounds. I’m working myself up to talk to Tony.”

“Maybe give it a few minutes?” he proposes, raising his brows in a playful gesture.

Your body seems to sag then as you offer him a tired smile, “Probably for the best, yeah.”

You waltz into the room then before you drop down on the edge of the bed. The exact spot he had been sitting in just moments prior.

“Cronus,” you sigh, shaking your head as you rest your feet on the bed frame, kicking up the frilly bed skirt. “I feel like I’m wading through deep water right now. Like I can barely keep my head up long enough to take in everything around me.”

Well, damn. As if Steve hadn’t experienced that very same thing just hours ago. He bites his tongue instead of unleashing all of that upon you. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could put that vision into words yet.

“I think I know the feeling,” he says instead as he moves around the bedpost, taking a seat beside you next to the pillows.

The silence permeates the room for a moment too long as you gaze at the wall opposite you. Steve can see the reflected image you both make in the standing mirror. How close he’s sitting to you, how near your right knee is to his left. How small you appear.

“I have no idea what we’re going to do next,” you admit with a choked sound to your voice as you manage to get the words out.

Steve rests his hand upon yours, imploring you to meet his gaze. 

You do, in an instant.

“We’ll figure that out together.”

He squeezes your fingers tightly for assurance.

“God, even outside of the motivational speeches it seems like you always know what to say,” you laugh with a slight hiccup.

Your fingers wrap around his and squeeze back.

“With you,” he starts. “Words seem to come a little easier to me.”

“I’m not going to ghostwrite your speeches, you know.”

You release his hand just to shove your arm into his side, laughing as you pull away.

He cracks a smile in return, “Would never dream of it.”

Steve finds you to be simply beautiful like this. With your hair in its natural form, free of your helm and armor. Wearing casual clothes and looking at him with such a warm expression he nearly wants to speak the words that have been caught up in his throat these past few months.

But then his treacherous eyes drift over to that picture frame once again as he mentally notes the differences between the woman sitting next to him, right here and now, and the woman smiling for a camera.

Your smile wanes as you follow his gaze.

“Oh,” you say with a lingering sort of melancholy.

Before he can do anything of use to regain your attention, you’re pulling away from the bed to nab the portrait. You drop down beside him once again as you carefully dust off the frame with your thumb.

“I don’t usually do pictures. Anything that could be put into public. Well, I didn’t use to,” you give a little laugh, but your eyes are still locked on the picture. “Now it’s just candid moments caught by reporters and everyone has a camera phone these days.”

He can’t stop himself from asking, “So, what made you change your mind for this?”

Your gaze lifts for just a moment, just so you can share a look before you return your attention to the portrait - to the man seated in front of you.

“Ralph was more convincing than even Tony. We met at the premiere of Singin’ in the Rain at Radio City Music Hall,  March 1952. It was my first week back in the States after being in Europe since… well, for quite a long stay.”

Steve immediately understands what words you’ve excluded. You told him you had been in Warsaw for the reconstruction process. God only knows where else you spent your time in the post-war years.

“Anyway! This guy in line kept trying to strike up a conversation and, Cronus… he was funny. I can’t even tell you what happened in the movie outside of the giant ‘Good Morning’ dance scene. We almost got kicked out for all the gabbing we were doing.”

A strange laugh slips from your lips and Steve can see the exact moment when your emotions take hold.

“He was… he was a really good guy. He was CIA actually, set to become the youngest head of his department from what he told me. Spring of ‘54, he came banging on my door at two in the morning - I lived in Tribeca back then - well. It was the age of McCarthy and Roy Cohn and… he was set to be investigated, but someone at the office tipped him off.”

You give a shrug, “I brought him here, helped him get his papers around and the next morning he was gone. Next thing I know, seven years pass and one day I get a postcard - ” you nod your head at the watercolor beach scene on the dresser, “ - filling me in on the last few years of his life. Got himself a partner, Gary. Became your typical boring officer pusher.”

“I never…” you cough. “We never saw each other again. I mean, he tried. Definitely wanted to. But this,” you gesture vaguely at your body. “I don’t change. And nearly a decade goes by and I look the same? He was persistent though, every few years he’d ask where I was, tell me where he was, ask if we could meet up again. I always had an excuse though. Never could bring myself to tell him the truth.”

Your eyes meet his and Steve can see the palpable sorrow residing in your solem irises.

“That’s the problem, you know. Walking in eternity,” you gaze down at the picture for just a moment longer before you rise up and return the frame to its rightful resting place. You offer him a sad smile as you say, “I get to watch my friends go on and age and, one day, die. I might seem isolationist with my whole refusal to do teams thing,” you laugh. “But I promise you, that’s not the real reason. It just hurts too much.”

Before you can shrug your shoulders, or change the topic, Steve rises from the edge of the bed. He’s staring right down into your eyes with an intensity he can physically feel pounding in his chest as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into the tightest of hugs.

“Oof, okay. It’s - Steve, it’s okay, really,” you murmur into his chest.

He squeezes you even tighter as he buries his face into your shoulder.

God, what right did he have to feel jealous, for even just the briefest of moments, when the truth of your hidden grief had just been a simple story away? How had it never once occurred to him what your fate was? To have decades and centuries and millennia pass you by, watching the ones around you grow and fade into obscurity.

“I’m sorry.”

He can feel you pull back slightly, but his arms are secured around your waist so you don’t get very far. 

“For what?”

Steve lifts his head just so he can see your face properly.

“For everything, I suppose.”

Your lips quirk up into a small smile.

“I don’t think you need to apologize for anything like that, Rogers. You’re too good of a friend.”

Something halts in his chest, for just a beat of his heart, before it restarts once again. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, to reveal to you. But now was certainly not the time. So, he gives you another squeeze before he fully releases you from the embrace.

“Yeah, I could say the same about you too, you know?” he quips.

Even though his arms are no longer around you, you remain exactly where you stand.

“As much as I miss the anonymity of my past cover. And as mad as I was at Nick and, well, Thor actually, for breaking my cover. It’s nice, sometimes, to know that I don’t have to hide my true identity from you; the team, I mean.”

“But,” you add with a pointed finger. “I’m still not thrilled about the knock-off toys.”

Steve chuckles, tucking his hands back into his pockets, “Try having your face on collectible trading cards. And comics, and lunch pails. And, well, pretty much anything you can imagine.”

Your smile breaks free as you look up at him, “Well, if it hasn’t already been done I’m sure Tony will trademark it soon enough. Ooh, speaking of which - ” you look toward the door, “I should probably…”

“Yeah,” he says with a sad smile.

You make it a few steps away, hand on the door before you turn back to him.

“And Steve? Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

With a parting smile, you disappear into the hallway and down the stairs. Steve wants to smack himself as soon as you’re out of sight.

Thor has not returned by nightfall. Not that you were expecting him to, but the others do seem concerned by it. At least Bruce felt comfortable enough to wander back into the house before the stars came out, possibly lured by the smell of food simmering on the stove.

The pickings were slim, considering you hadn’t been to the house in almost a year now. But your pantry had been well-stocked with canned items just for an occasion like this. It was a simple stew, but it would be filling.

Steve’s been hovering close, ever since the encounter with Tony earlier that afternoon. So, you don’t fault the supersoldier when he offers to help out with the meal prepping. At least it was giving you both something to do while you tried to lull over the thought of what next currently circulating through everyone's heads.

Clint and Natasha wander down just before the food is served, both of them appearing rested and clear-headed.

“Smells good,” the redhead comments as she slips past you to grab a bowl for herself.

“I can only hope it tastes half as good as it smells,” you offer in return as you finish ladling up another bowl for Clint.

“I mean, I could kill for a pizza right about now. But I’m not gonna say no to free food,” the archer smirks as he moves to join Bruce and Natasha at the table.

It’s only when the six of you are seated at the table in the kitchen, either inhaling your food like starved animals or too distraught to do much more than push the stew around with your spoons, that Tony begins the dreaded conversation.

“Alright, let’s get it out,” he sighs, pushing away his barely touched dinner. “What’re we gonna do about this?”

“Do we?” Bruce questions, carefully looking up from his bowl. “I mean, do we need to do anything about it? Outside of the scepter, I mean.”

“And the Abomination?” you question.

“The what?” his eyes widen.

Oh, shit.

“No one told you,” you realize.

“Uh, yeah. That would have been… what happened there?”

“Yeah, actually,” Tony interjects, turning an accusatory tone toward you.

You stare down at your food for a moment before you push it into the center of the table, resting your arms upon the wooden surface as you gather your strength.

“Blonsky was spotted in London just after you left. Sam and I went in to deal with him. Legion drones came in and subdued him, which made us think, and assume, that they must have been sent in by Stark - ”

“Which, why the hell would I do that?” he questions with an incredulous voice.

“I made an incorrect assessment,” you fix your gaze upon the billionaire. “We set up a transfer with the acting commander and that was that. But… obviously, we were played. By Ultron.”

“Obviously,” Tony clucks.

Steve drops his spoon, making it clatter against the bowl as he glares at Tony. The billionaire quirks his lips but otherwise keeps his mouth shut.

“Back at the tower, we encountered the male mutant who was working with Rumlow.”

You can feel the supersoldier’s attention on your face, but you choose to ignore it, just in favor of getting the rest of the story out.

“A rogue bot came in, freed the rest, and from there the tower was in chaos leading to its collapse.”

“You saw the other mutant?” Natasha questions around a mouthful of food. With a nod from you, she continues her train of thought, “So, they’re both working with Ultron.”

“Maria assumed they were being promised something from him. Security, protection. I’m not sure.”

“You know,” Clint starts. “For the supposed global peacekeeper he says he is, he’s dealing with a lot of unsavory people. I mean,” he begins ticking off his fingers. “We got Strucker, and an ex-HYDRA member, and two mutants, and maybe… what was his name?”

“The Abomination.”

“Yeah, him too,” he nods. “I mean, either this guy’s wiring is a little screwball or I’m missing something here.”

“But,” Steve clears his throat. “He did gain control over the situation in London, right? And those drones were actively assisting with the injured in the city.”

“Okay, so what’s his deal then? He’s helpful when he wants to be and evil when he doesn’t?” Bruce questions, tone increasing.

Tony taps his fingers against the table for several hectic beats, “Or, Katniss is right. We’re missing something. Something bigger. I mean - ” he quickly stands from his seat, just so he can begin pacing the length of the kitchen floor. “I’m a big bad robot. I want world peace and I think the guys that have been handling it are doing a crap job.”

“He did say he wants to eliminate us,” Natasha adds.

  The billionaire hums, “So, he needs to get us out of the picture. That’s why he goes to Strucker - ”

“To get the information on Klaue and the vibranium,” Steve nods, seeing the picture opening up before him.

“But once he has that information, he doesn’t really need Strucker around,” you begin. “Unless… you need him to do something else for you? I mean, he still has the scepter at this point. But what would he need vibranium for exactly?”

“And where do the terror twins and the other two fit into this?” Clint wonders aloud.

There’s a beat of silence as everyone seems to contemplate the different scenarios.

“A distraction,” you realize. “You’re fighting one battle on one continent, I’m dealing with another on a separate continent. Before we can even regroup - ”

“There goes our meeting point,” Tony finishes.

Bruce huffs, “That’s great and all. Still doesn’t explain why the drones are actually helping people though.”

“Well, if his endgame is just to get rid of us but still remain an actual peacekeeper,” Steve ponders. “He’s got to have his hands in different pools, right?”

“And, uh, back to that global peacekeeper thing,” Bruce interrupts, pushing back in his chair to give himself a little more space from the rest of you. “Why is no one else saying it? He’s right.”

There’s a shattering silence that drapes itself over the dinner as you all stare at the doctor with varying forms of confusion and incredulousness on your faces.

“What?” he questions, a little too loudly. “I mean, he was right. You remember his little spiel at the tower, I’m… the Hulk… it’s a time bomb. You guys look at him and see an ally, but just look at Johannesburg right now.”

“Bruce,” Natasha begins to say, “That wasn’t - ”

“But it was me. All of that was me. And you!” He looks up at Tony. “You already had a failsafe made, just in case. I mean, thank God! Right? But do you have one for all of us, or am I just the special case?”

Tony, disturbingly enough, looks sheepish and nearly guilty when you turn your attention to him. Your eyes narrow at his sudden silence.

Wow. He did have something set for the rest of you.

“Man,” Clint snorts. “Are you actually siding with the thing that tried to kill us today? Cause, not a great take, gonna be honest.”

“Okay. Rage monster; one. Two destructive gods from another realm; there’s two. An assassin, a spy - ”

“Do you honestly want to finish that thought?” Clint’s attitude has fully changed as he now moves to push away from his chair.

“I mean, tell me I’m wrong here! Was today not just a sign of how fucked we are as a team? Raids on empty bases are one thing, man. But when shit is actually on the line, are we even close to being a cohesive force? Cause I don’t think we are!”

“This isn’t helping anything right now,” Steve placates.

Bruce sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“All I’m trying to get at is… what if this guy takes it from here for us? We… hang up the gloves and step away from it. Just… go back to being real people.”

Your eyes immediately land on Steve.

Was that not a conversation you two had shared right after the Battle of New York? The possibility of him ever returning to a normal existence? The man seated next to you would never be able to hang up the shield, to put that part of himself away and be a normal man. No, just like yourself, there was too much fight left in him to ever dream of that scenario.

“Yeah,” Tony grins. “That’s not happening.”

“Well, maybe I’d just like to be able to walk away from this,” Bruce finally admits.

With a knowing sigh, you offer him a gentle look. While you understood where the doctor was coming from with this line of thinking, you definitely could not agree. And you voice as much.

“AI, in itself, is unstable. Even the best-made artificial intelligence will never be superior to a human brain. The way an actual living person is able to connect ideas and things together will never be achieved by a technological form. I mean… look no further than Project Insight.”

At your words, Steve’s face is drawn with instant understanding.

“HYDRA may be different than Ultron, but who and what gets to decide what is or is not a threat? What if one day it decides half the planet is deemed a risk?” The supersoldier questions. “He can just make that call? I mean… we might not be the best suited, or even the most cohesive. But I trust that, in our hands, we will make the right judgment call.”

“Not sure if I could say the same about the T-800,” Clint drawls, glancing at Bruce.

“Okay, still doesn’t answer the main question though,” Tony sighs, rubbing his forehead with a tired hand. “What the hell are we gonna do about him?”

“Well,” Natasha starts. “First things first; we gotta stick together.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “No more splitting up, jumping on separate missions. He’s intelligent and he wants to use our basic instincts to have us go running at the first sign of trouble.”

“Oh, so we’re just going to ignore danger now?” Bruce questions.

You fix him with a look, “That’s not what I mean.”

Steve’s hand settles over your left wrist.

“All I mean by that,” you restart. “Is that we need to focus on the big threat, not the tiny ones. We need to figure out where Ultron - the one with the vibranium and the scepter - is currently. And then we need to figure out how exactly we’re going to take him down.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “Look, he took us down to buy himself more time. With us out of the way and his image turning favor with the public…”

Right, there was that entire side of the situation as well. One you had been aware of, but had been doing your best to ignore. Between the articles about an extravagant party from the Daily Bugle to the reports of drones saving London from a monstrous attack, the true nature of Ultron had never been shown to the general public. And distaste for you and the team had been steadily rising in the aftermath.

“And we still have to assume that he’s trying to access more than just vibranium,” Steve mulls. “Hill said he was trying to go after weapons factories and launch codes.”

“But he hasn’t gotten them?” Natasha questions with an arched brow.

Tony scoffs, “I cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school, on a dare.”

Steve fixes the billionaire with a look.

“So, what’s stopping him then?” Clint ponders.

You all sit on that thought for a moment longer.

“Well, something or someone has to be doing something. If he wanted that information, he’d have it in an instant unless something was circumventing him.”

Tony clicks his tongue, “I should probably call someone about that, actually.”

He gestures at the hallway where your rotary phone resides and you ultimately nod your head. You watch him disappear around the corner before the conversation at the table picks back up.

“I’m a robot,” Clint starts. “I want a team of superheroes dead. I have an alien scepter that can make anyone do my bidding, but I also want vibranium.” He rocks back in his chair, pillowing his head with his arms as he stares up at the ceiling. “Why do I need the vibranium?”

“Strongest metal on Earth” you add, chancing a glance at Steve.

The supersoldier hums in reply, clearly stewing over that same line of thinking.

Bruce sighs, pushing away from the table to take his empty bowl to the sink, “Whatever way you slice it, he’s looking for a way to end us. He thinks he’s better than us and that whatever we do, he can do it in an entirely superior way.”

“And he has a robotic army at his disposal,” Natasha adds, kicking her boots up onto Tony’s vacated seat.

The questions simmer for a moment, then two, before Steve raps his knuckles against the table.

“Did you guys notice, when we faced him on the ship, that he was harder to take down than at the tower?”

The redhead nods, “He’d had repairs done too.”

“Yeah, he was way more metal than the last version,” Clint snorts, resting his hand on the back of Natasha’s chair.

You blink, finally seeing the picture coming together from a handful of mismatched puzzle pieces.

“So, you’re saying the bot you faced had been… upgraded?”

Your eyes meet Steve’s as he offers you a nod.

“I’m a superior intelligence,” you say, standing from your chair. “I see what humans and gods and other creatures are doing to try and protect the world, but I know how to do it better.”

You begin pacing as the thoughts blur together into a single line of musical notes, all ringing crystal clear in your head. You follow after the melody.

“But I can’t do it in my current form. I need… I need vibranium. It’s strong, it can go blow to blow with their best. But… I’m still not physically at a point where I can take them down. I need… I need…”

The word slips free from your thoughts before you can speak it.

And as you turn to the others, hoping they’ve caught on to your line of thinking, you find three curious faces looking back at you. But Bruce… Bruce is staring at the framed creatures near the kitchen window.

The perfectly displayed Libythea cinyras, the Xerces blue, the delicate Urania sloanus. Now extinct butterflies that you had managed to find and preserve so very long, long ago.

The doctor’s wide eyes meet your knowing face.

“He needs to evolve.”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[missvelvetsstuff]

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies?

Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Natasha, Reader x ????

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

This story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

Chapter 1

After Y/N had slept for almost 24 hours and eaten enough to fill her up, Nat approached her in the kitchen.

"Tony is having a party tonite, to celebrate finding Loki's scepter. He gave me his credit card so do you want to go get a dress for tonite? And maybe some clothes so you aren't stuck in Avengers sweats all the time? We can have lunch and get our hair and nails done as well." She smirked "We can find a blue dress for you, it's Steve's favorite color."

Y/N felt her face flush "Why would I be worried about what Steve likes?"

Nat grinned "I'm a spy, I know how to read people and both of you are giving off some serious vibes. Trust me, he's into you too."

Y/N shrugged "I don't know what you're talking about but I do need some clothes and I've never had a real haircut. I just chop it off when it gets too long." She thought for a minute "Sure, sounds like fun."

They left the tower in one of Tony's cars that Nat borrowed. Driving around Manhattan Y/N felt overwhelmed but something was familiar as well.

"This is all so much. I haven't even left the facility where you found me in years."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it pretty quickly" Nat told her as they pulled into a parking garage on 5th Ave. "Having access to Starks credit and cars definitely helps." She parked and they got out of the car and walked into Saks.

Nat headed straight for evening wear and started looking through the racks when a sales person approached them.

"Ms Romanoff, it's so good to have you here again. I see you've brought a friend" she looked Y/N up and down, sneering slightly at her attire. "I can see she needs our help. What are you looking for today?"

Nat glared at her "We're looking for someone who won't be a bitch because of how we look. Do you have anyone here like that?"

The sales girl, her tag said her name was Sophia, blanched "I'm so sorry, Ms Romanoff, I was just caught off guard. Of course I'm happy to help you in whatever way you need.

Are you looking for a cocktail dress?"

Nat smirked "Yes, Tony is having a party tonite and my friend needs an appropriate dress. Something blue."

Sophia stuttered "Tony Stark? How exciting. Why don't you and Miss...."

"Y/L/N, I'm Y/N Y/L/N"

"Of course. What size do you usually wear Miss Y/L/N?"

Y/N flushed "I don't know, I haven't gotten myself new clothes in ages"

Sophia pulled out a tape measure "Well lets see..." And quickly took her measurements. "A size 7 should fit nicely. I have some dresses that would be perfect for you. Please have a seat and I'll have them brought over.

Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water, tea, soda, champagne?"

Nat nodded "Some champagne would be nice. And none of the cheap stuff."

They spent an hour looking at dresses until they narrowed it down to 3. All shades of blue. Y/N tried them all on and was overwhelmed when she saw herself in the mirror, she felt like a princess.

"I can't choose, they're all so pretty. What do you think, Nat?"

"I agree, it's too hard to choose so we'll get all three. Tony loves throwing parties so you can never be too prepared." Nat replied

Y/N shook her head "I couldn't, that's too much"

Nat laughed "too much should be Tony's middle name. Don't worry about it." She turned to Sophia "what about accessories?"

4 hours later they had all 3 dresses and accessories for each one, plus enough everyday and business style clothes to last a year. And shoes and lingerie. Nat gave Sophia a stern order to make sure it was all delivered to the tower before 4pm. Then they went for hair, makeup and mani-pedi's.

Y/N didn't know how to process everything that was happening. Less than 72 hours ago she was in her cell with no inkling that her life would change so drastically.

"Thank you so much, Nat. I just...."

Nat smirked "Don't worry about it. I have a feeling you're going to feel right at home before too long."

They went back to the tower after a late lunch and finished getting ready. At 9pm they took the elevator to the penthouse where the party was already going full swing.

Nat led her to the bar and poured a glass of champagne for both of them.

Y/N just looked around, watching people, unsure of how to interact.

Steve and Sam were playing pool when Sam noticed Steve was staring at something by the bar.

"You checking out Nat again? I thought that was over."

Steve shook his head "It never really was on, just occasional stress relief. Besides she has something going on with Bruce. Look next to her, in the blue dress. That's Y/N, we found her at the base where we found Loki's scepter. She's a mutant, turns sound into light. She was humming the other night and had this glow around her like a mist of colors. It was beautiful" he sighed.

Sam laughed "You sound smitten. Why don't you go talk to her?"

Steve blushed "I wouldn't know what to say."

"How about hey Y/N you look beautiful, wanna have my babies" Sam offered

Steve snorted "Give me a break.

It looks like Nat is busy with Bruce so I should go be a good host. Don't want to leave her alone with all these strangers. She's been a prisoner since she was a kid so might not be good socially."

Sam laughed as Steve walked away.

Y/N was looking out the window when Steve approached her. She turned and looked at him.

"It's a beautiful view"

Steve was staring at her and agreed "Yeah, it's gorgeous"

She saw he was looking at her and felt her face heat up. "So Nat said Tony throws parties like this all the time"

Steve nodded "This is actually pretty tame compared to some. Before he became Iron Man I think partying was his priority. It's still a favorite past time.

You must be overwhelmed with all this if Strucker kept you prisoner since you were 10. You'll get used to it. We are mostly a happy family." He smiled softly at her.

After the party died down the team sat around drinking and chatting. Most of them tried to pick up Thor's hammer and failed. Only Steve moved it at all but he still couldn't pick it up.

Then Ultron showed up and made a mess of everything. Y/N tried to use her powers to help fight him but was thrown against a wall and knocked out. After Ultron was gone, she came to and heard arguing. Steve helped her up and kept his hand on her back to help comfort her. Once the team decided on their course of action he took her to her room.

"I need you to stay here for now, ok? We'll be back as soon as we can" he told her gently.

Y/N shook her head "I can help. I could come with you and-"

"No" he told her firmly "We need to evaluate your abilities and work together before you get into any fights with us. I don't want you to get hurt so please be a good girl and wait here for me"

She felt a funny tingle when he called her a good girl but pushed it back "Ok. I'll wait here. Please come back safely."

"I promise, sweetheart" he kissed her softly on the lips and made sure she was safe in her room before he left.

While the team went to Africa to stop Ultron, Y/N was having dreams about Steve but with her lack of experience couldn't figure them out. The only sex she had was when Strucker forced himself on her and she thought she would never actually enjoy sex but her dreams said otherwise.

In the morning she saw what happened on the news and knew that it was Wanda messing with the Hulk. If she had been there she could have broken Wandas hex and prevented all that destruction and death.

She jumped when Jarvis spoke to her "Miss Y/N? You have a phone call from Captain Rogers."

"Umm ok how do I take the call?"

"I'll put him thru"

Steve's voice came thru the speakers in her room.

"Hey sweetheart, how are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Hi Steve, I slept a little. I had strange dreams. My life has turned upside down.

Are you ok? I saw the news. Wanda was there wasn't she? If you had let me come I could have prevented-"

Steve cut her off "No. You don't even know if you could have helped Hulk. You aren't going on any missions any time soon.

I just wanted to let you know that we will be gone for awhile. After that mess we have to lay low. Just be a good girl and make sure you eat and sleep. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Y/N felt so helpless as she saw the teams adventures on the news. They went from Africa to Korea. She was frustrated and wanted to help but couldn't so waited for them, for Steve, to return.

When Tony and Bruce returned they barely noticed her and rushed into the lab to work on something.

Steve came to check on her and gave her a sweet kiss before she noticed the twins were with him.

Wanda looked at her "Hello Y/N. Nice to see you again"

Y/N was confused "Steve why are they here? They are nothing but trouble and can't be trusted."

Wanda cringed "I know we have done awful things to you in the past but we didn't realize how bad Strucker was, too caught up in our own rage and grief. I promise we won't hurt you. We want to help stop Ultron."

Y/N looked at Steve "If you are taking them then I should be able to go too. I can help."

Steve chuckled "I know you want to help honey but I don't think a light show will do any good."

She pouted "I can make lasers too. I hate staying here while you risk yourself. Please, Steve." She begged

Her begging did something to Steve but not something that would help in a fight. He was about to tell her no again when Clint walked by

"She's not wrong Cap we could use all the help we can get."

Steve gave in "Promise me you'll be careful. I'd hate to see you hurt."

Y/N didn't do too badly considering the circumstances. She even took out a few robots on her own, including the one that tried to get Pietro and a young boy he was protecting.

Sokovia was still destroyed but most of the people were saved. Sometimes you have to accept how things turn out.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a few days rest Y/N, Sam, Wanda and Pietro started training to become official Avengers.

Y/N and Steve started dating, taking things very slow since she was inexperienced and in no rush.

Nat was devastated that Bruce had disappeared and started spending a lot of time with Steve and Y/N. Every night he would walk Y/N to her room, kiss her good night and leave her on her own.

After a few weeks she noticed Steve and Nat seemed really close and she asked him about it.

Steve shook his head "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. Nat and I are just friends. We've been thru some tough situations together but there's no romantic feelings. She's just lonely because she misses Bruce."

She nodded trusting him.

They went on like this for awhile until General Ross brought up the Sokovia Accords. She took Steve's side but he didn't want her involved in the fight so she made her way to the quinjet and waited for Steve and Bucky. She saw what Zemo did and the fight that came after but couldn't bring herself to hurt Tony so found herself waiting on the jet again.

Y/N went with them to Wakanda and then on the run with Steve and Sam. After months dating, Steve told her he loved her and then told her he had to leave for a couple of days to meet up with Nat for cash and intel. They met up every few weeks and he always came back in a lighter mood.

One time when he returned he asked Y/N for a favor

"I don't want to be separated but Shuri figured out how to remove Bucky's brainwashing and I want you to go help him. Just be a friend. He really likes you and I think it would be good for both of you. You're the only one I can ask, he has bad history with Sam and Nat. I promise I'll come visit when I can."

She looked at him sadly, not wanting to leave the man she had fallen in love with but wanting to make him happy and be his good girl so she went to Wakanda.

Y/N and Bucky became close friends. She didn't mind if he didn't want to talk and they would just be together. If he did want to talk she listened without judgement and she was there for his nightmares. She helped him tend his goats and thought she could have fallen for him if she hadn't met Steve first.

A couple of times a week Steve would call to check up on her but it was always brief because Nat always called him away after a few minutes. He kept promising he would come visit but something always came up.

One day, Shuri showed up at Bucky's hut where Bucky and Y/N were playing chess."I have news, Captain Rogers contacted me and told me to tell you, Thor and Hulk have returned. Asgard was destroyed and all of the Asgardians that survived are here, setting up a home in Norway. New Asgard.

That's not all, the Captain and Tony Stark have worked things out with Gen Ross and Sargeant Barnes is being pardoned. You can go home soon, back to the states but there will be a celebration in New Asgard in a month.

Y/N wondered why Steve didn't call her and went thru Shuri instead but she was trusting and believed he just had too much to do.

Y/N and Bucky spent the next month as they had spent time in the past, strengthening their friendship, enjoying nature and herding goats. They both expected Steve to show up at any time but he never did. He only called once and explained that he was very busy helping Thor and Valkyrie set the new town up. Y/N told him they could help but Steve insisted they stay in Wakanda.

Finally it was time to leave, both of them were excited at being reunited with Steve but also nervous at meeting a whole new group of people.

Steve came in the quinjet to pick them up and after a quick hug and kiss on the cheek he spent the rest of the flight talking to Bucky. Y/N realized they were best friends but she had hoped for a better reunion with her love. She sat alone trying to talk herself down from the anxiety that was building up.

When they arrived in New Asgard the whole team was there to greet them. Nat and Bruce were wrapped around each other while Wanda and Vision were holding hands. Steve was suddenly in a bad mood right after they landed and left saying he just needed to work it off. Nat disappeared shortly after.

Thor gave Y/N a fond greeting and introduced her to Val. They took her and Bucky to a dressmaker to create Asgardian style robes for the celebration the next night. Steve didn't come to see her at all so she figured he was still busy helping and she stayed up talking to Bucky until they were both exhausted and fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

Chapter 2

[sonnetsoncanvas]

Mess it up : pt 3

Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isn’t sure he can

Part of the Mess it up series

Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov)

Warnings: modern AU, angst, second chance, eventual smut, brothers best friend trope, implied cheating, self-deprecation, happy ending?

Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams

Notes: This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading!

 

Chapter 3: I keep thinking maybe if you let me back in

Reader POV

Life was not fair. Never was to you. But that never seemed to faze you. if anything, that made you more resilient. Unafraid. Unbothered. Living in that small, noisy Brooklyn apartment, with a mother who worked herself to death trying to provide her children with a good life, a brother, the literal personification of sunshine, being picked on and bullied, tending to his bruises when he thought nobody’s looking.

It made you realise that the world is a dangerous place. It eats up those who stand unprepared. And so, you steeled yourself. Made yourself the most fearsome creature to behold in any room you entered. Your biting wit, your sass, you sharp intellect made you attractive to some, unappealing to many and untouchable to all.

There was only one who dared to play with the fireball that was Y/N Rogers. Only one for whom your guards went down. After all, if Steve trusted Bucky with his life, you could trust him with your heart. Right?

Turns out you couldn’t.

“This was supposed to be a temporary thing” he’d said.

“Do you really think I’m gonna take you home to my mother ? tell her you are what I want the Barnes legacy to continue with?” he’d sneered.

“Its time you go back to your dreams, and let me get on with mine.” He’d offered.

You never should have.

Bucky POV

Life was hilarious. Or at least it started seeming that way after years of neglect. He had everything a child could’ve wanted. All the toys in the world, the most expensive apparel, all the amenities a person could dream of. But the one thing he lacked was love. Pure genuine love.

His mother, The Winnifred Barnes of the upper east side, knew how to give birth to heirs, but did not have a clue about raising a child. Growing up in that negligent household, amongst people who were nefarious for being social climbers and gold diggers, little James soon realized that the only worth he has comes attached to his name. that no one would care for him if it weren’t for his billions.

But he was proved wrong when he met a lanky blond boy of Brooklyn at the music camp. It was there he shed the expensive cloak of James Buchanan Barnes and donned the dirty sneakers of Bucky. It was through Steve he recognised his own significance, that he could be something more than the well-groomed showpiece his family was expecting him to be.

And then he met you.

And it felt as if all his prayers had been answered.

You weren’t like Steve, not one bit. You were this fiery, self-assured human who could scorch the world with her brilliance. Unlike Steve, you were pragmatic. Unlike Bucky, you knew who you were and where you wanted to be.

And he fell for you. hard.

He borrowed some of your bravery, some of your light, and formed the Avengers with Steve, Sam and Wanda. He wanted to make something of himself to deserve you. to earn the jackpot that was your love.

However, for bucky, it seems happiness is always a temporary tryst. He tends to forget that.

Skiing was his passion. One of the many trappings of his privileged life that actually he enjoyed. It was the same passion that completely changed Bucky’s life. But unlike you, for the worse.

It was his own fault. No one else to be blamed. Had he heeded the weather warning, he wouldn’t be on that slope. he wouldn’t have been caught in that blizzard. He wouldn’t have lost his left arm.

When he regained his consciousness, the first face he saw was yours, streaked with tears, anguish in eyes.

You came there every day, sometimes under the pretence of dropping something for Steve, who refused to leave him alone, sometimes to fill in for his absence. The better bucky got, the more hopeful your eyes grew.

You’d altered everything to fit Bucky’s schedule. You worked late nights so that you could visit him in evenings after school, stopped going out with your friends to be with him instead. There were times you pulled an all nighter just so you could turn in your assignments on time.

He saw it all. The dark circles beneath your eyes, your tired face, the endless cups of coffee. It should’ve pained him, but the thought that you were there, to love him, to hold him, brought endless solace. and so he selfishly held on to you.

Until one day, Steve told him about your college acceptance letters.

“She got into Harvard Bucky! My baby girl in Harvard. Just think about that.” A hint of pride glimmered under his annoyance, “But she refuses to go. Says she cant leave Ma and I alone.”

“what ?!” Bucky had asked, guilt gnawing at him

“I mean Columbia is a decent school, but Harvard law?! It doesn’t get better than that. How far is Boston anyway?...”

Steve’s voice blended into the voices in Bucky’s brain. He knew the real reason behind your hesitation to go to Harvard was him. He remembered how excited you were when your adviser had confidently proclaimed that she is Harvard material.

And you were willing to let that go. For him.

Instead of joy, Bucky felt trepidation. Fear. Was this love? Or pity? Is this how the rest of your lives will be? You leaving things you love for his sake? And how long before you resent him? Hate him for all the opportunities you’d let go of for him?

How could he ever live with himself, knowing he was the anchor that was holding you back?

Bucky had resigned himself to live his life with his situation, but you didn’t have to. You , perfect in every way, intelligent, so beautiful that his heart ached.you should be with some one who deserved you. not him. Never him.

And so James Buchanan Barnes did something that was somehow more painful than ripping his heart out.

He let you go.

Reader POV

you woke up with a heavy head. It felt a lot like jet lag, except that it wasn’t. one did not get headaches by travelling from Boston to New York. One did, however get headaches after crying all night. Which was what you did last night.

It was embarrassing. Pathetic even. You thought you were over him, and all that it took was one glimpse of his to mess you up. You had a Suma cum laude from the most prestigious law schools in the world, scored job offers from the most esteemed firms, made grown men cower in front of in courtrooms, and yet, were drowning in a puddle of tears over a high school boyfriend.

To be fair though, your only boyfriend. After he dumped you, you swore off men, while he went on an array of affairs with so many women you lost count of it. The tabloids had always had a sweet spot for him. “The heartbreak prince” indeed. Its only that the prince did the heart breaking, not the other way round.

You ambled out of the bed and cleaned up. It was hours before your usual time, but well, its not as if you’re getting any sleep now, is it?  Its better to get some coffee for your pounding head. Your interview was tomorrow thank heavens. There was no way you could’ve done it today.

A clattering of utensils startled you. there’s no way Steve was up this early. Your confusion was immediately clarified as you came across the very bane of your existence hunched in the kitchen.

You tried to turn back and leave as noiselessly as you could. You cannot endure this so early in the morning. You’d rather go out to get coffee, there must be some place open at the ungodly hour. Its New York after all.

He turned that very instant, as if he could sense you. his beautiful blue eyes widened as he took you in, as dishevelled and disoriented as you were. After a long minute he shifted his gaze from your face, looking everywhere but in your direction.

You were beginning to suspect that God was punishing you for all your years of antagonism.

“I was about to leave.”

His voice, his goddamn voice. Your heart had always been ready to race out of your chest and beat to the rhythm of his speech. It was ready to do that now.

Had human beings been able to survive without a heart, you would’ve had yours surgically removed ages ago. Stupid, bloody organ always getting you in trouble.

a wave of guilt hit you as he started for the exit. He had done the same yesterday, leaving moment you guys entered, Sam dragging him away to help him do something you don’t recall. He returned after you went to bed, whenever that was. And now this. It felt wrong that he was uncomfortable in his home. It wasn’t his fault that you weren’t over what he called “a seasonal distraction”.

“stay” you rasped; your voice too low to be heard. You tried again. “Stay, James.”

He stilled. Stood frozen on the threshold long enough for you to wonder if he’d fallen asleep standing up. And then he turned. His eyes full of something you were scared to decipher. The silence was too oppressive, even for you.  

“we both know this would happen. We’re both adults, we can co inhabit a space without it imploding” your head was about to implode though, and not from the headache.

“yeah, right. Youre right.” He mumbled, still sticking by the door, which was a good thing because you needed coffee, and you were sure you couldn’t function properly with him in close proximity.

You turned towards the fancy coffee maker, which was far more advanced than the old spluttering relic that you had in your dorm. You fiddled with the buttons, trying to get it to work.

“here, let me.” He said, the low raspy baritone that made you shiver. You hoped he thought it was the morning chill.

He skirted around you to get to the counter, and yet his subtle smell plagued your senses. He turned the shiny knobs easily with his right arm, putting in a new filter and placing a cup near the nozzle.

“you still take your coffee black?”

The question, innocent at its core, jarred you. your ex remembering a small detail about your from years ago was not on your bingo card, but there you are.

“uh I umm, yes.” You internally cringed at the fact that you, the mock trial champion, was stuttering. He nodded slightly and continued.

“How can anyone like something like this?!”  he gagged, sliding your cup over to you.

“that’s what you get for taking a sip without my permission Barnes.” You smirked, snuggling in his outstretched arms, ready to resume his favourite movie that you honestly didn’t understand. All you cared for was spending time with him, even if it was hidden in his apartment.

“Atleast add sugar to it doll. Its too damn bitter.” He coughed.

“I like it bitter.”

You jerked at the small beep from the machine. Your eyes involuntarily went to his, only to recognise the same surprise there, as if this conversation took him to some other. the very thought of it gave you hope, and hope, you’ve realised over the years, is the most dangerous thing.

You hastily grabbed the cup, too eager to end this interaction. His presence was triggering emotions you have avoided for too long.

In your hurry you toppled the cup over, its blistering hot content pouring out. But before you could feel the burn, a shiny metal gripped your wrist and tugged you away. You staggered and stumbled forwards, bumping into his chest.

It was you who froze this time. too incapacitated by his smell, his body, him to move. You felt him draw in deep breaths, his heartbeat audibly speeding up. you stayed there for god knows how long.

It was he who withdrew. Because of course it was. You regained your composure and jumped back, frightened by the comfort that had washed over you in that moment.

“Thank you.” you gasped, and bolted out of the room right that instant.

[harlequin-hangout]

Incapable

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mob violence, violence against reader (Not Bucky), mature themes, Brock Rumlow just as a person, guns, general mob fuckery, light alcohol use, slutty themes ( Minors DNI), Kidnapping, torture

Contains: Arranged marriage, fluff, some angst, femme fatale/boss bitch energy, strangers to lovers maybe? Happy ending

Word Count: 4.7k

Dividers are made by me! Want some for yourself? Send me an ask!

Summary: Bucky Barnes is the only person to treat you as human, despite your marriage being transactional. How will you react when he's kidnapped?

I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

A/N: I did not make the gif, and @vbecker10 inspired me to use it. Just look at him! Adorable, and so, so done with people's bullshit. If this progressed kind of fast, I'm sorry! I really didn't want to start another series, and I didn't want to publish something that was INSANELY long either. I love writing our Reader as someone who can handle herself, it makes me so happy. I hope you all can enjoy another Badass Reader fic!! (There will be a super slutty epilogue but I'm so ready for this to be out so the smut will appear in the next bit, but both pieces can be read on their own)

The door to your house was broken. Someone had kicked it in. You step over broken glass, finding every drawer ripped apart. 

“James?” You called out to your husband. Silence was the only answer you received. 

“Bucky??” Your voice was more desperate. You ran from room to room, only finding more destruction. Making your way into Bucky’s office last, you found his sitting corner smashed, with blood staining the carpet and upholstery. A broken cell lay on the ground – Bucky’s work phone. The picture of you and Bucky on your wedding day had been ripped out of its frame, the blade of a hunting knife stuck in the side table through the photo of Bucky, while your face had been scratched beyond recognition. There was no mistaking the message that the sender was intending. Though your marriage wasn’t traditional, James Buchanan Barnes had never made you feel like property. Your husband was the only person in your life that hadn’t treated you like a means to an end, like a bargaining chip or a high-ticket item, and he was missing. You pick up the cracked phone on the ground, managing to turn it on enough to get Steve’s number out of it. You dial, hang up after one ring, then call right back. 

“Hey, Buck, what’s up?” You hear Steve’s jovial voice on the line. 

“He’s made his move. Get Wilson and be here in 20.” Your voice was calm, but Steve could hear the icy bite. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, I know this is tough but–”

“But nothing, Rogers.” You cut him off. “I know that I haven’t been involved in the business, but this is personal. 20 minutes. Wilson. Bring however many weapons you can carry.” You hung up, not waiting for a response. 

Your marriage was transactional, you’d known that from the start. You’d been adopted by Rumlow Senior when your mother had passed, and been raised alongside his son, Brock. At least, that’s the story the Public knew. You had been part of your mother’s efforts to pay off her debts to the Rumlow Mafia family. Your father had passed from massive medical complications – you didn’t know a lot of the details, you had been too young to understand and no one had ever given you much to go on past that – and your mother had borrowed money from the Rumlows to help pay for his treatments. There wasn’t money to pay back her loans, so she paid them back the only way she could. Your mother had become the infamous Mafia fixer known as Lady Death, and you had been sent to live with the Rumlow family at age five as insurance. She had been legally dead since you were adopted by the Rumlows, but your mother had been killed for real on an assignment when you were seventeen. After over a decade with the family, Rumlow Senior had made you a deal. Keep playing the role of his adoptive daughter, and you would be kept safe. When you were twenty one, you were given a choice. Rumlow Senior would be stepping down as head of the Rumlow Family that year.

“But why would you pick me?” The question hung heavy in the air of Rumlow Senior’s office.

“You have been raised in the Family just as Brock has, Y/N. You are every bit as ruthless as my biological son, and I have complete faith that you would make the right decision for the future of the family whenever the need arose. Unlike my son, however, you have a cool head on your shoulders. You do not jump at the chance for violence. You take the diplomatic route whenever possible, and leave none in your path when it is not.” You sat there in silence. This wasn’t a life that you had wanted. True, you had grown up learning alongside Brock in order to maintain the role of Rumlow’s Little Princess, but you hadn’t ever expected to be offered anything, much less control of the family.

“I . . . I don’t mean any disrespect, but what’s the other option?” Rumlow Senior crossed his arms. You knew that wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but still, he responded.

“If you don’t step into the role of Matriarch, there will be a target on you. Your safest choice would be to marry the head of another family. Your husband’s power would both protect you and benefit our family.” You chew on your lower lip and nod slowly. There was no leaving this life behind for you, not if you wanted to live past the age of 25. 

“If I really do get a choice . . . I would rather the marriage.” You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. Rumlow Senior watches you, a pensive expression on his face. “You’ve been an amazing father to me, both before and after my mother’s . . . Passing . . . but this life. . . it isn’t for me. I don’t want any hand in the lifestyle that killed my mother.” You couldn’t stop the bite from sneaking into your voice during your last sentence. Rumlow Senior nodded slowly. 

“As much as it pains me to admit, this life has not been kind to you. I’ll put out the notification to other families and see who we may ally ourselves with. You’ll always be a part of this family, Princess, even if you weren’t born into it.” He gave you a gentle smile. The old man had always treated you carefully and stated that your mother’s debt wasn’t yours to carry, but you’d overheard conversations behind closed doors. An arranged marriage had been in the cards for almost a decade now. You weren’t a part of the family, you were a business asset that he wanted to keep compliant. If nothing else, at least the marriage would get you out.

Several offers had been made. It seems the Romanoff Matriarch liked women, and the Pierce empire also put in a bid for his youngest son. The one that surprised you the most, however, was James Buchanan Barnes. His was a family made of people who didn’t have a home, jokingly called The Lost Boys by Brock and his lackeys. While he had no family power, he was indisputably powerful.

“So which one do you think, Princess? Any of these would make great allies for our family. That Romanoff girl is quite a catch, she’s got fire in her.” You put on your best business mask, looking over the files.

“Yeah . . . She is pretty great, but the Romanoffs only control most of the upper East side. We have the South, which is almost double the size of the upper East. The smartest choice is Barnes. His White Wolf family controls the North and the parts of the East that the Romanoffs don’t.” You close the folders and lay them on the desk. “First choice is Barnes, second choice is Romanoff, and third choice is Pierce. He’s always given me the creeps though.” Rumlow Senior smirked, impressed with your choices. 

“Spoken like a true businesswoman. Let’s have a wedding!”

Within the next two months, you and Barnes were married. 

“Please sit still?” You kept dabbing the medical wipe on his bloodied knuckles despite the mobster’s squirming. “I know it stings, but you did this to yourself. Besides, are you gonna sit here and tell me that you can punch a man multiple times, but you turn into a toddler when I have to clean a cut?” Barnes kept looking down, his face forever brooding. He didn’t answer, but did still his hand. “There. Was that so hard?” You busied yourself putting away the first aid kit.

“You aren’t comfortable around me, are you?” His statement caught you off guard and your head snapped up to look at him. His expression was relaxed. This wasn’t the kingpin that had just beat information out of a Pierce Empire lackey. He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t think a lot of people would be, especially witnessing what you just did . . . I’m sorry you had to see that.” You chew on your lip and Barnes continued. “I know you were raised with the Rumlows, and I guess I just assumed that you’d be used to seeing that sort of thing.” He paused, waiting for your response, but seemed genuinely taken aback when you started to giggle.

“You think I’ve been distant because of a little violence? James–”

“Bucky,” he interrupted. “Please, call me Bucky.” A soft smile breaks through your mask.

“Bucky,” you corrected. “I’ve done worse than that to Rumlow thugs when they failed to follow my father’s orders. I wasn’t shielded from any of it. In fact, I was even offered control of the Rumlow family. I turned it down. Given the choice, I’d rather not be the cause of violence, but violence doesn't bother me ”

“Then what does?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion, and you sit across from him on the tile floor

“About the beating or the relationship?”

“Uuhh . . . both, I guess?” You’d never heard Barnes sound so unsure. It was refreshing, even endearing to a degree.

“I’ve been treated like a bargaining chip since I was little. First, my mother, then my adoptive father on multiple occasions. Our marriage was just another business deal to him, and I didn’t think you’d want a clingy business deal. You get alliance with the Rumlows, and I get to keep my protection. I don’t see a reason to complicate things.” Bucky was quiet for a few moments.

“And the beating?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. It’s really hard for someone to give you information if you don’t give them a break in between blows to answer your questions. Seriously, that’s basically mafia 101.” Bucky burst out laughing at your cheeky response. People didn’t usually talk to him like that, they were all too afraid. 

“I’ll give you that one, Doll,” he stated as he regained control of himself. He stared at you, taking in your every feature. After a few moments, you broke the silence.

“You’re thinking something, Bucky. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m thinking that I’d like to make this relationship a little more complicated . . . what about you?” 

You had kept your own room, but from then on things with your new husband just seemed . . . easier. You spent most of that night talking about how you really came to be a part of the Rumlow family, and how you had opted for marriage because it was the closest thing to your own life that you’d ever have. In turn, Bucky began to open up about his past. How working for other groups had landed him with a metal left arm and a distrust of most people. How his time as a fixer had caused most people to fear him, and therefore avoid him. He didn’t really have friends outside of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, and they both worked for him. You got the sense that he chose to have his marriage arranged because he thought it was easier than the alternative for someone like him.

“You know . . . you don’t have to be alone.” You had told him one night. 

“And what do you mean by that, Doll?” He had questioned you, raising an eyebrow as he set down his bourbon glass.

“You say you’re alone because people are afraid, but that’s not completely true. You can’t fool me, Buck. I was raised with the potential to do the job you do. You aren’t alone because people are afraid, but because you don’t give them the opportunity to not be.” Bucky was quiet, but watched you with a fascination. You place your drink on the side table and lean forward. You’d come to enjoy the nights that you and Bucky would just sit and talk. It was a welcome escape from the monotony of everyday life and the drain of keeping up social appearances. Both of you were relieved when you could drop the masks and the roles that you were each expected to play and just exist with another person who didn’t judge you. Who didn’t hold any expectations apart from honesty. Your husband takes another sip, trying to hide the smile that played across his face.

“And what would you suggest I do instead, Sweetheart?” God you loved the intensity of his gaze, and as he ran his tongue over his lower lip, you decided that you were feeling brave. You stood, sauntering over to him. Bucky leaned back in his seat, setting his drink down and allowing you to lean over him, your lips brushing his neck.

“Ask.” That singular word whispered in his ear broke Bucky’s self control. His right hand flew to your neck, pulling your lips to his. You felt the cool metal of his left hand pressing into your thigh as he slid your skirt up, allowing you the mobility to straddle his lap. You press yourself against him as you whine, desperate for his touch. You didn’t sleep much that night, being pushed to the edge over and over and over, only to be brought back without release. Bucky loved watching you struggle. He loved your willingness to fight, and he wanted to watch as the fight drained from you and you submitted to his will. He knew you had been playing the roles expected of you your whole life so here, behind closed doors, he would earn your submission, not demand it. You would choose when you broke, but once you did? Bucky was going to ruin you, and he was going to savor every moment

After that night, you rarely slept in your own room. Your marriage was transactional, no one could deny that. Through the years, however, it had become so much more. You became one of the most powerful couples in the city, though you still kept your distance from the world of crime. Your diplomacy was unrivaled, but one night, that all came crashing down. 

Your brother, Brock, had taken the role of Rumlow Patriarch when your father stepped down. For years, Brock’s temper had been controlled by your father’s background guidance. That all changed the night Rumlow Senior passed away. You attended the funeral, of course, but he passed suddenly. Bucky was out of town on a business trip and unable to make it back in time for the event. You passed along his condolences to Brock, but Brock took your husband’s absence extremely personally. Without the watchful eye of Rumlow Senior, Brock Rumlow’s true nature shone through. Brock was a loose cannon. His temper was unmatched, and his ego caused him to completely disregard the rules that every other family played by. For months after the funeral, the street thugs under your brother’s command ran rampant. They overstepped boundaries and lines of control held by other families as well as started fights wherever the opportunity arose. One night, they went too far. Three of Bucky’s new recruits had been carried back to the office after your brother’s thugs beat them almost to death. All they had done was refuse to leave the bar that they were already drinking at when the Rumlow thugs showed up, stating that the two groups could co-exist. These were just kids, barely old enough to even be IN the bar, and with six men versus the three kids, it was a massacre. Adding insult to injury? That bar was on White Wolf property and owned by Steve Rogers, one of Bucky’s right hands. Bucky had come home fuming that night. You talked him down from murdering your brother on the spot. You had no love for your brother, but murder would result in an all-out war. You spent the better part of the night with Bucky, Sam, and Steve readying yourselves for several outcomes. The following night, Bucky went to have a civil meeting with Brock, Mob Boss to Mob Boss about the behavior of his subordinates. Steve and Sam went on patrol hoping to stop another encounter, and you went to meet with Natasha Romanoff, the Matriarch of the Romanoff family. If this all went south, you would need an ally in order to take your brother in an all out war. 

So that’s how you got here. Standing in your husband’s office surrounded by the aftermath of a ransacking. Your shoulders fell back and your chin lifted. If Brock wanted a fight, you’d give it to him. Brock may be the head of the Rumlow Family, but with Bucky currently indisposed, you were the head of White Wolf. Time to show him what his Little Sister was capable of when someone threatened her family. You headed straight to your room. If you were going to be acting as the White Wolf Matriarch, then you should look the part. You slide into your black business leggings. They look like skinny cut pants, but provide enough flexibility for you to move. A flowy black blouse pairs nicely, accompanied by several gold accessories. You favored rings and necklaces, but added a couple cuff bracelets for good measure. Your knee high riding boots with the steel toe inserts were pulled from your closet. Your winged liner was sharp enough to stab a man was accompanied by a dark lip and perfect brows. Finally, you swept your hair up into a sleek high ponytail. You take one look in the mirror, and your appearance plus the cold hearted look in your eyes made you smirk.

“The bitch is back,” you thought to yourself. You pulled a duffel bag out from under your bed. You hadn’t much from your mother, but you did keep her favorite set of knives. They were well known as the choice weapons for Lady Death, and that fear could serve your purposes. Strapping the wrist holsters to each wrist, you frowned. This blouse was nice, but it didn’t hide the knives well enough for your liking. . . You slipped several more into your boots as you heard Steve’s car pull up. You turned to rush out the door when you paused. One of Bucky’s black suit jackets was draped over the chair by your door. It was far too big for you to wear, but if you draped it over your shoulders . . . You tried it out in the mirror. It worked, hanging off your shoulders like a cape. The extra fabric also provided the cover to your wrists needed to conceal your wrist sheaths better. You grab your phone and head down the stairs to meet Steve. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think this is a good–”

“Well, then it’s a good thing your job isn’t thinking right now, Rogers.” The blatant interruption caught both men off guard. “You’re going to listen carefully because I’m only explaining this once. The story you’ve been fed about the Rumlows taking me in out of the goodness of their hearts is complete and utter bullshit. My mother worked off her debt to them, and I was kept as collateral. She taught me a lot of what she knew. I was raised as a Rumlow and was offered control of the Family because of my brother’s inability to control his temper or play by the rules. You can either do what I tell you, or you can explain to Mr. Barnes when we return why you didn’t accompany me. Are there any questions?” Whether it be the lack of emotion in your eyes or the ice in your voice, you didn’t know, but neither man argued. Wilson was the first one to speak up.

“ . . . Who’s your mom?” You look Sam dead in the eye, smirk, and with a flick of your wrist you impale one of the knives in your wrist sheath in the ground between his feet. Both Sam and Steve go pale with recognition.

“My mother was Lady Death.”

The Door to the interrogation room blew inward. C4 was such an amazing toy, you were so happy that Sam kept a stash. Hands in your pockets, you step over the twisted remains of the door, the dust settling at your feet. Immediately you hear the click of guns, but that only pulls a sadistic smirk to your face.

“Hello, boys. For those of you who don’t know who I am: look to your elders. For those of you who do: Run.” It was your brother's right hand and childhood friend, Justin, who spoke first.

“Y/N, didn’t expect to see you join the party.” He swaggered up to you, full of confidence that only an upper class white man could possess. He loomed over you, and you weren’t sure if he was trying to be sexy or intimidating. Neither was a good look on him. “What’s your problem, princess? Did we break up your little game of house?” You look up at the taller man, not budging an inch.

“Oh not at all, champ, I just thought I’d give you and your little friends a chance to play in the big leagues. Only three of them? Shouldn’t be much work.”

“Hey, Lady, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but –” Justin interrupts him before you have the chance.

“That’s Barnes’s wife, dumbass. She’s the Boss’s adopted sister, and the last person you wanna piss off.”

“She don’t seem so scary, all of her power comes from other people! Why should I–” 

“You’d be well to listen to your superiors, or haven’t you learned that yet?” The ice in your voice stopped the newbie dead in his tracks. You stalk towards him, eyes fixed. “Let’s give you a family history lesson, hmm?” You had the undivided attention of all four of the Rumlow thugs. You just needed to keep it that way long enough for Steve and Sam to work into position. You stopped in the dead center of the room “ Justin, how many years ago was Lady Death’s final kill?”

“Uuhh . . . five years? Just before you married Barnes.”

“Good Boy,” you purred, working as much condescension into your voice as you could manage. “And how many years ago did my mother die?” As he did the mental math, Justin began to shift uncomfortably.

“ . . . Seven . . . no, Nine? Nine years ago . . .” As the dots started to connect, the realization began to show on each man’s face. Your smirk grew to a full-on sadistic smile. 

“Let’s try this again, gentlemen. Whether or not you know who I am, it’s too late. I’m Lady Death.” The tension is palpable in the air as the newbies eye you, then the door, as if evaluating their chances, but your backup was already in position. From the rafters of the building, four shots rang out. You’d ordered Steve and Sam to aim to kill, but you hadn’t bothered to check their handiwork, simply stepping over the bodies and making your way towards the last door that stood between you and your brother.

The door creaked open, and your rubber soles thudded against the concrete with each step you took. No matter how hardened to violence you were, you had never cared about any of the people on the receiving end of your violence. No matter how hard you tried, nothing could have prepared for the sight that met you on the other side of that godforsaken door. Bucky was sat in a metal chair. His arms were tied behind his back, and a gag was stuffed in his mouth. His white dress shirt had been discarded, and his undershirt was torn. The bridge of his nose was cut, and someone had busted open his left cheek. Dried blood still caked his skin. The moment he saw you, his eyes filled with fury. He fought against his restraints, almost toppling the chair.

“Aaaah, Y/N, nice of you to join us! Can’t have a party without Daddy’s favorite kid,” Brock spat at you. You study your brother, willing your face back to neutrality.

“You know just as well as I do that that isn’t true, Brother mine.” If your calm demeanor threw Brock off guard, he didn’t show it.

“Well, Sister mine, your husband here had the audacity to tell me how to run my people, after refusing to even honor our father. Our father who spoke of him like the Golden Son just for marrying the whore who wormed her way into my life!” By the end of his statement, Brock was screaming. He took a moment and regained his composure. 

“Do you really think that was a good move?” As you questioned Brock, you walked over to a spare folding chair. You let the jacket fall from your shoulders, draping it over the back of the chair. 

“I can make whatever move I want. Dad may have taught you everything you know, but he taught me everything he knew. That’s the difference here, Wendy. That is what you are, aren’t you? The Wendy to his pathetic troupe of Lost Boys.” Locking eyes with him, your smirk returns.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Brock. Dad isn’t the only one who taught me things. My mother lived here too, remember?” Brock’s eyes narrow, tracking you as you slowly close the distance between you and him. “How do you explain the kills on Lady Death’s roster after my mother passed, hmm? Think about it.” You could see the gears turning in Brock’s thick skull before he shook his head.

“You lying bitch, you’re trying to play on my nerves. You turned down this job because you weren’t capable” You interrupt, starting to slide one of your knives from the wrist sheath into your hand.

“I turned that job down because I wasn’t interested. Never mistake my disinterest for being incapable.” You flick your wrist, your knife landing squarely in the meat of Brock’s shoulder.

He lunged at you, and the only thing you could focus on was the exchange of blows. He was a lot faster than you’d anticipated, and you were fairly evenly matched. You registered the pain of his blows connecting multiple times, but you pushed it down and attempted to return the favor. Suddenly, you felt his fist connect with the side of your face, then an arm wrapped around your waist. Brock spun, throwing you across the room. You hit the wall with a sickening smack, the wind being knocked from your lungs. Your brother slowly started stalking towards you. He was breathing heavily and wiped the blood from his upper lip as he walked, never taking his eyes off you. Brock grabbed your jaw, dragging you upwards, and you did the only thing you could think of. You slipped a knife out of your boot, and jammed it into him on your way up. Both you and him fell, Brock’s head hitting the ground with a sickening smack. You hauled yourself up, steadying yourself against the wall. You grabbed your brother by his hair, yanking his head up. 

“You’re a fucking disgrace to this family and all that Dad stood for.” You paused, spitting out the blood that was pooling in your mouth. 

“What the fuck happened??” You heard Sam shout as he and Steve finally caught up. You looked from your brother to Sam, steeling your gaze.

“Change in management,” you stated. “Send out a notice. Due to extremely reckless behavior that nearly started a war, Brock Rumlow has been removed as Patriarch of the Rumlow family. Its territories and personnel will be merged into White Wolf. Any concerns can be taken up with Lady Death.”

You turn your attention to Bucky, picking up one of your discarded knives to cut the ropes and gag off of him.

“Doll, that has got to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.” Your satisfaction definitely showed on your face. After taking a moment to catch your breath, you pick the discarded suit jacket off the back of the folding chair and hand it to Bucky, leaning on him for support. Bucky pauses, glancing between Steve and Rumlow.

“Bring him back to the office. We’re not going to be done talking for a very long time.”

Tags: @vbecker10 @soubi001 @brattymum96 @vicmc624 @caritobbg @winterslove1917 @xonickibaby @youngblood199456 @thehumanistsdiary @ozymdias @thomase1

[deanwinchesterswitch]

April 2024 Monthly Fic Recs

I almost forgot!!!!!

It's shorter than usual but still full of amazing stories.

Enjoy!

Many of these blogs and fics are NSFW-18+. Please honor any requests from a blog regarding no minors. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume; heed the warnings for each fic.

~MCU~

In a Red Dress ~ @navybrat817. Author's Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Something Blue ~ @boxofbonesfic. Author's Summary: None (Dark!Steve Rogers x Bride!Reader)

Something Borrowed ~ @boxofbonesfic. Author's Summary: None (Dark!Steve Rogers x Bride!Reader; Follow up to Something Blue)

~RPF~

Save Me-Part One ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Sometimes, when life seems the brightest, shadows creep in. After announcing their engagement to the world, Jensen’s fiancé is kidnapped. With the help of a friend, she tries to fight her way back home to him.

Save Me-Part Two ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Sometimes, when life seems the brightest, shadows creep in. After announcing their engagement to the world, Jensen’s fiancé is kidnapped. With the help of a friend, she tries to fight her way back home to him.

The Way Your Hand Looks On My Face ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: It’s not like Y/N doesn’t find her husband incredibly sexy, but something about his new character is doing more for her than any other… (Jensen Ackles x F!Reader)

~Supernatural~

Bravery in the Depths ~ @justagirlinafandomworld. Author's Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean Winchester)

Connection ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean x Reader)

Let's Go For a Drive ~ @rizlowwritessortof. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Dean Winchester)

Rules and Roses ~ @justagirlinafandomworld. Author's Summary: AU in which Dean personifies Rules and Reader personifies Roses. (Drabble)

Stay With Me ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Dean is into his second bottle of whiskey, desperate to drive his problems away. But he knows deep down, the booze isn’t what he truly needs…

The Right Time and Place ~ @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior. Author's Summary: There’s no time like the present. (Dean Winchester x Reader)

What He Doesn't Say ~ @justagirlinafandomworld. Author's Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean Winchester)

~On Patreon~

Rebekah Jordan (Impala-Dreamer)

Before The First Light ~ Author's Summary: With Michael pounding away in his head, ready to break free at any moment, Dean realizes he has no other choice but to do what Billie says and lock himself away forever. He hadn't planned on telling her, hadn't planned on a goodbye, but Y/N wouldn't let him leave without one more night...

Worn-Out Leather ~ Author's Summary: It isn't easy, but you know when it's time to go.

thinkinghardhardlythinking

Close to Home-Parts 10 and 11 ~ Author’s Summary: Y/N and Dean are neighbours, and friends. The thing is Dean is a ladies’ man and she has always known it, if he wasn’t, maybe he’d be the ideal guy…but his eye for the ladies, how well they work as friends, as well as the fact that he’d never even think of her that way, all means that they are meant to be just neighbours and friends. Doesn’t it?

[ltbarnes]

Anachronism - Part I

Or the placing of persons, events, objects, or customs in times to which they do not belong

Summary: Sprained ankles, snowstorms, blood-thirsty wolves and feral super soldiers. What was supposed to be a peaceful walk in the woods surrounding the cabin you're staying in with your best friend Steve quickly turns devastating, forcing your path to cross with the mysterious and burly man who can't seem to grasp social cues and the concept of privacy. His past is a puzzle that can't seem to be solved and your feelings for the sweet and giant man quickly develop from friendly gratitude to something neither of you can't quite grasp.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Bigfoot!Bucky? Yeti!Bucky? 6'6" Bucky (he's massive. so beefy), manhandling, technically kidnapping but it's all good,  hypothermia (almost),

(Specific warnings in each chapter)

A/N: be kind and ignore the ridiculous amount of times i have written "furs" in this chapter. also my very first series! please read and give feedback and your thoughts i will love you forever if you do!!! this is obviously an AU but also includes a lot of things that are canon, but i've tweaked some things to fit my story. it's a mini-series that will be released every Friday which i'm also still writing so any suggestions regarding the story are welcomed and appreciated

Masterlist

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

"Are you scared Bigfoot is gonna come kidnap me?" you say, a faux serious expression on your face. "Notice my great hips for childbearing? Smell my excellent pheromones from his mountain top?"

"You're hilarious, aren't you?" Steve answers, rolling his eyes fondly because you are hilarious. Self-proclaimed.

"It's not my fault I'm a fantastic mate. Bigfoot won't be able to resist his feral urges to claim me once he sees my healthy glow and extra layer of fat that will keep me warm through the winter."

The argument has been ongoing the entire morning—should you go out on an exploration walk with the threat of a snowstorm looming while Steve finishes his work or should you instead stay inside and keep him company? Steve is heavily in favor of the latter option, it seems.

You've been here for an entire 24 hours without leaving the cabin a single time. Usually that wouldn't bother you, but when your travel companion keeps insisting on finishing sketches and answering emails and doing everything but hanging out with you, exploring your surroundings seems a lot more exciting.

Yes, you were aware of the fact that working was a part of the deal when borrowing his boss's mountainside cabin. But you didn't know exactly how strict a certain Tony Stark could be when it came to deadlines. Technically Tony is only your boss and not really his, but the version of Stark you meet does not hand out deadlines. You came with because you wanted to spend time with your best friend, not stare at him in front of a computer and sketches of how to improve stuff at the compound-thingy.

"Steve, honestly. I won't even be gone for long," you say, leaning over the back of the couch while watching him draw lines over the large paper with his pencil. "I need to get some fresh air. You know, for my health and all that. Exercise."

"Since when do you care about exercise?" Steve asks you, reaching for a red pen on the other side of the table.

"You know what? I'm going out no matter what you say. I'm adventurous. Independent."

You walk over to the hallway, sliding your arms into your large puffer jacket while Steve watches you with raised eyebrows. He had an inclination that you would be getting your way in the end, but engaged in the benign argument in hopes of convincing you to stay with him. The truth is that you're not an adventurous person with any valuable survival skills, and both of you know that. You get lost in grocery stores—the endless snowy woods will do you no good.

"Okay," he tells you, laying down his pen for the first time in an hour. He didn't stop working for the entire time of your conversation, until now.

"Huh?"

"I can't stop you. But don't go too far, Y/n," Steve pleads, looking at you with those blue doe-eyes that piss you off. "I mean it. As soon as the first snowflake falls you go inside again."

A sigh. A roll of your eyes that he absolutely notices. "Yeah, yeah. We know I'll probably come inside in fifteen minutes anyway."

With your hat, mittens and a thick scarf wrapped around your neck you decide to take the leap and open the doors. The wind whines as you wave Steve goodbye. He tells you to be safe once more and you tell him to mind his own business if he wishes to have dinner served tonight.

Honestly, the man has no faith in you. Yes, you might have no sense of 'street smarts', but what good will those things do you in the mountains? You are perfectly capable of taking a walk. If anything would happen resembling trouble, you absolutely have dormant biological survival instincts waiting to be activated somewhere. Wether those lean more towards freezing than fight or flight is no one's business.

Nature is beautiful and gorgeous and miraculous, you have always thought that, and your beliefs are confirmed on your thirty-minute walk. Several inches long icicles hang from mile-long trees, glistening with shimmering snow and at least two squirrels hunting each other down the tree trunk.

If you're not careful you might convince yourself you are in a Hallmark movie, if judging only by the seven days left before Christmas Eve and the appropriate environment. But you are also painfully cold and longing for the crackling fireplace in the Stark cabin more than you wish to continue explore.

The urge to pout over following Steve's rules is ridiculously strong while heading back during the first snowfall of your trip. You don't know why you've acted like a spoiled brat around him these past few weeks when you really just want to kiss the life out of him. Stupid fucking Steve Rogers. Unnecessarily attractive—he really is. He doesn't need to be this handsome and gorgeous with that perfect personality of his.

You've known him for five years now. It's hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time, that you have spent so much time infatuated with a man without ever speaking your admiration out loud. Steve was just a friend for many years, the steady confidant and chivalrous caretaker. And then the meaning of chivalrous became devastating and the ability to listen without intervening turned horrifying when all those traits summed up into the absolute, certain definition of the man you have a hopeless crush on.

And what's sad is that you're still here. Feelings still unconfessed and unrequited. You can't let him go even though it fucking kills you to see him live his life without being yours.

When you were a teenager you feared you were incapable of love after your first date left you feeling absolutely nothing for the perfectly nice and sweet guy. Now you're so deeply sunken into the man that is Steve Rogers, but you can't confess in fear of destroying the only real friendship you have. Fear is a funny thing, and it manages to ravage your sense of self-worth in any which way it appears.

If you ever gathered the courage to tell him, he would be real nice about it. Assure you that nothing is ruined, and he won't look at you differently. Steve would actually try to appear as unbothered as possible going forward into the friendship if only to make you as comfortable as possible. But you know it would eat him up inside—his best friend is bordering on being in love with him and he can't reciprocate it. Steve's selfless and caring like that.

You can barely feel your fingers anymore despite the thick gloves on your hands. The temperature was a crisp kind of cold when you first started walking, now it's wet and icy and biting. Seeing more than three feet in front of you is getting slightly hard through the punishing snowfall, but you have faith. You walked in a straight line the entire time so you wouldn't lose yourself in the woods.

When you get home again you will make two cups of hot chocolate and curl up on the couch. Watch a movie with Hugh Grant if only to annoy Steve. Despite how you've complained about his time being occupied the past day you really do like it here. Quiet and peaceful and warm despite the freezing temperature outside. You could live here if only work wasn't an obligation and you had money enough to buy a house.

"Fuck," you seethe as you trip over a branch, landing face down in the snow.

The ground is soft and almost powdery and you still manage to twist your ankle during the landing. Of course you do.

"Ow, ow, ow," you whine while trying to stand up again, once more falling down onto the ground with a soft thud.

Your face is covered in snow in mere seconds. The urge to cry is overwhelming as you sputter to rid yourself of the white snowflakes burying you. Skipping breakfast doesn't seem like a great idea anymore now that your blood sugar is low enough for you to cry over things like this. It's stupid—the pain will most likely go away in a few minutes and the cabin can't be that far away.

But right now the snow is too heavy for you to drag yourself through on a bad foot. The temporary solution you find underneath a thick tree whose branches are so compact almost no snow makes it onto the ground underneath it. Cold, but dry. It will do for ten minutes.

Checking your phone connection almost feels stupid. Cell towers are usually not a frequent part of the infrastructure in the midst of mountains and woods. You send a text to Steve anyway, hoping that it'll come through once you get closer to the cabin, risking the well-being of your poor fingers during the short time you're required to take off your mittens.

I'm still alive

Also sprained my ankle

Don't laugh at me when I get back

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Cold. So, so cold. Oh my god.

Too many spots on your body are freezing to the point where you can't move. A panicked breath forces your eyes open just halfway, revealing a white landscape of blur.

There's sounds other than the wind and your ragged breathing, you're sure of it, but you can't distinguish what they belong to. Your eyelids fall closed once again, despite willing them to stay open so you can see what the fuck is going on for more than a second.

You hear growling. Yeah, that's what it is. Animals growling. Animals growling.

The sudden epiphany is what forces your eyes open for real this time, awakening your nearly hypothermic body with a start as you take in the gray, furry hounds on all fours surrounding your resting place.

Wolves bare their teeth at you as you sit frozen in your spot, literally and figuratively, eyes wide with fear and heart beating a lot faster than the minute before. Tears are already making their way down your cheeks, because what are you supposed to do? The underlying survival instincts you thought were laying dormant are seemingly not doing anything for you right now.

You press yourself closer against the tree, watching as two of the wolves stalk closer, assessing their prey like bloodthirsty beasts. Dying of being mauled by wolves were not on your bucket list, if you're honest. Right now you're rapidly going over every prayer to every god, begging for your life. And the only thing you manage to do is have a panic attack in your place, struggling to match your inhales to your exhales. Death by asphyxiation must be better than being torn apart, right?

The largest wolf, tall and built with dried blood in his fur, leans back, readies himself for attack. You close your eyes with a sob, chest heaving so frantically you can't get any air into your lungs.

A roar sounds right in front of you, and you know in your bones that now is your last moment of life before your flesh is pierced by sharp teeth. But when three seconds pass by without a feral animal ripping you to shreds, you open your eyes dizzily.

The wolves are sprinting away, howling and whining, disappearing between the trees and snow until they're out of sight.

A heaving figure stands too many feet away for you to see clearly what chased the predators away. You're disoriented, sight becoming blurry again.

But right before you succumb to the sleep, you see the outline of a large man nearing you. He crouches down, grabs a hold of you, and you can't even protest.

Everything is upside down. You don't have the energy to stay awake anymore.

Steve is going to fucking kill you.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Orange and yellow flickers dance over wooden walls, painting shadows of make-believe figures in an unknown space. It's overbearingly warm—beads of sweat rest underneath your hairline and pools on the back of your neck. A world of difference from the biting cold you lived through what seemed to be just a moment ago.

Several furs cover your body, working alongside the fire undoubtedly burning somewhere in the room to warm your already overheated body. It feels claustrophobic and also deeply concerning because who in the hell has furs lying around in this amount and who brought you here and where are you?

You remember the cold and the snow and the tree and the wolves—there were wolves about to attack you. Actual, real life wolves two feet away. And somebody chased them away.

Turning your head away from the wall you faced takes more effort than you would have wanted to, and you almost wish you didn't when you come face to face with a bearded, blue-eyed man staring at you less than a feet away.

An ear-splitting shriek escapes your lips without your consent, furs flying off of your body while you scramble to get away from the strange man who's breath is literally hitting your face.

But you're pushed down onto the bed before you have the chance to escape, once again covered with the furs you desperately wish to keep off.

"No. You cold," the man growls at you.

His voice is rough, like he hasn't used it in a long while. There's a thick scruff on his face, complementing the dark brown hair almost reaching down to his shoulders.

You get stuck in your movements, left staring at him feeling like you can't tear your eyes away. He's so ruggedly handsome and nearly soft in his gaze, but the way he's clenching his jaw tells you he's rougher on the outside. Strong, judging by the way he pushed you down with only a palm to your shoulder.

"Still. Don't move," he tells you, furrowing his eyebrows into a frown while keeping his hands on you. And then he tucks you in, keeping you locked in place with the furs. "Cold," he whispers to himself, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You gulp, trying to rid yourself of the dryness in your mouth and gather courage enough to speak simultaneously. Assessing wether he's dangerous or not is painstakingly hard—you have probably established to yourself by now that you have no survival skills nor instincts.

"I'm—it's too hot. Warm," you stutter, keeping your gaze on him to gauge his reaction. It seems you've adopted his simple language, lacking complete sentences and any form of addition besides the most crucial information. You suppose it's more efficient to communicate that way.

"Warm soon," he speaks once again, getting closer with each word. It seems like he's nearly sniffing you, inhaling your scent which must consist of mostly sweat right now. A low grumble sounds from his chest, a pleased hum on his lips. What the hell is going on?

You tense underneath his figure hovering over you, blinking while searching for a way to make him understand. Despite his tough exterior he seems soft in some way—kind. He wants to keep you warm because you must have been freezing when he found you. No matter how much waking up in a strange man's home is alarming and deeply frightening, you feel safe. That's disturbing.

A second effort to push away the bear fur proves to be more successful, even though the man actually growls at you. He really doesn't want you to escape the makeshift nest he's created.

"No, I'm already warm. See?" you tilt your neck, showing the bare skin glistening with your sweat. "Not cold. Hot."

His gaze zeroes in on the exposed skin, brows furrowed in confusion. In a decision not very thought through when you reach for his hand, bringing it up to your forehead so he can feel how you're practically burning up.

And he obliges, except that the hand pressing against your face is not warm human skin. Metal, hard and flexible, runs up the entirety of his arm. You can't help from flinching, scurrying away from his touch into the corner of the bed you're laying on.

But fuck, it hurts when you push away on your feet. A blinding pain strikes up from your ankle into your leg, drawing a distressed cry from your lips that has the man tense and rigid in a second. He straightens from his crouching position, moving back from your writhing figure.

"I did not—did not want to hurt," he says, looking just about as upset as you are in pain.

The genuine concern in his blue eyes throws you off guard. His face is all chiseled and gruff and a little dirty, but his eyes are softer than the fur draped over your body. He's beautiful. And big. Now from a distance you can see his large build clearly, the muscles bulging out from his worn henley. You know he'll tower over you when he stands up and the knowledge doesn't scare you anymore than it exhilarates you.

"No, no," you whimper, kicking away the fur completely before holding onto your foot, squeezing your eyes shut while trying to breathe through the pain. "It wasn't you."

Stretching your leg out, you bring your swollen ankle forward for him to see. Purple bruises run around the small of your leg, even one on your knee. You didn't really notice until now how little clothes you are wearing—neither your thermal trousers or the leggings are on your lower body anymore. All that's left is the long-sleeved henley you stole from Steve and your underwear. You guess you and the giant are matching now.

A shriek escapes as he suddenly drags you forward to the edge of the bed, both arms underneath your body until he has you where he wants you. You cling onto his shoulders for a few seconds, trying to rid yourself of the momentary shock. He moved you like it was nothing—as easily as if you were a pillow.

"Wolves, uh—wolves did this?" he asks you without lifting his focus from your leg, cradling it a little too harshly for your comfort. He lifts your foot, inspecting. It's like he doesn't really know his own strength.

You shake your head, finding it hard to search for words with his hands on your bare skin. The metal arm still really hasn't made its way out of things you've gotten over. You're not scared of it, you weren't before either, but more shocked. How does it even work? It feels kind of miraculous in a way.

"I tripped over a branch," you tell him. But he looks confused, like some part of the sentence contains words he doesn't understand. "Uh, I fell, over a—a tree on the ground?"

You try show with your hands as you are speaking until he nods. He repeats "tripped" under his breath, lips parting softly as the word sounds from his mouth.

"I need to go the bathroom," you say suddenly. "Can you show me where it is?"

It's not like you expect him to have a full-blown ensuite in this little cabin. You can see quite clearly that it's a simple place, but hopefully he has at least a mirror and running water hiding somewhere. You feel icky from all the sweat.

As carefully as you can, you bring your legs to dangle off of the bed while scooting forward. The man rises while you begin to push yourself up, expecting him to take your arm or something to help you walk.

Upside down again. Instead of aiding you in your walk he threw you over his shoulder within a second, picked you up just like that. Who is this man?

"Wha—hello?" you shout. "What are you doing?"

His answer comes in a grunt, but that's more so because of opening the door at the same time. All you can see is his back, but you feel the temperature drop significantly as he brings you outside into the snow. Judging by the rapid pace of snowflakes landing on your bare legs you assume the snowstorm is still brewing.

After a few seconds of shuffling through the snow, his fingers dig into your waist as he lifts you down. The landing is wobbly and you have to bite down on your lip to stop from crying out. Despite your efforts a broken whimper manages to slip out, making you sound like a kicked puppy.

"Good?" he asks you, holding onto you even after you have let go of him.

You nod, cringing over the icy cold snow against the sole of your feet. "Be a little more careful next time, maybe, if you're gonna keep...lifting me."

Your teeth are already chattering, arms crossed over your chest while waiting for him to step away. But he just stands there, two feet away while staring at you. He's been staring at you the entire time since you woke up but now is really not a moment requiring an audience.

"Could you look away?" you ask, gazing up at him impatiently. You're wearing a shirt in a snowstorm in which you nearly can't see the man standing right next to you while barely managing to stand upright.

"Away...why?"

A little taken aback by the confusion, you answer with his lack of understanding in mind. He's strange—knows what a bathroom is but doesn't understand the privacy part of it, the metal arm, standing so closely all the time, the inhaling your scent and communicating in incomplete sentences.

"Privacy," you tell him. He only furrows his brows just like he did inside when you talked about tripping over a branch. "I want to be alone for a few minutes. Not you here."

"But, uh, wolves. Bears and—cold," he says, taking a hold of your freezing hand. "Protect." He points at himself.

He wants to protect you.

Your lips part just slightly while trying to find something to say. He's known you for less than an hour.

"So small. Tiny." He pats you on the head, and it would be patronizing but you know he doesn't mean it that way. He looks genuinely bewildered by the difference in size between you, as if he hasn't seen anyone without his impressive build before. Most people are quite a lot smaller than him. "Small can't fight bear."

"Oh," is all you manage to get out. "That's very nice of you, but I—you can turn around? Please? I feel uncomfortable having you stare at me."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Like not feeling good. Not happy, nervous. It's not a good feeling," you explain, trying to ransack the dictionary of your mind for synonyms.

"I will be close," he tells you after a few seconds of contemplative silence.

It looks like it pains him to step aside, despite not walking very far away from you at all. He's so different from anyone you've met before, more innocent but also animalistic in some way. Primal. You kind of like it.

The snow is used as water for cleaning while your teeth chatter against each other, limbs shaking to keep yourself warm. Your feet hurt from touching the snow, and the entirety of you is getting increasingly wet as the icy flakes melt on your body.

Only a minute passes before he seems to have had enough of waiting, turning around to see that you're done.

"This time, could you not—"

Before you can finish your request of not being thrown over his shoulder again, he puts his large hands on your waist and lifts you into the air. You're less surprised this time, maybe, but definitely not used to being picked up like that. A harrumphed breath is all that can be said as you once again, with your ass in the air and his as your view, are brought inside.

An hour later you have concluded that your phone must be left underneath the tree you fell asleep against, your ankle is definitely sprained and the man has not spent much time in civilization. But he still knows certain things that makes you believe he's somewhat civilized, like he spent time with other people a very long time ago.

He's wearing clothes at least, even though they are worn out and torn in some places. He knows how to make a fire and there's a few plates on a shelf and a wooden spoon. It's relatively tidy in here, but that's mainly because he doesn't have many things.

Most of all, he's been taking care of you. He knew enough about hypothermia to rid you of your wet clothes. Now he's wrapped you up in all those furs again and planted you in front of the fire place after you were shaking like a leaf when you came inside. He hasn't let you take a step by yourself on that bad foot of yours.

And even though all of these things are so sweet and slightly peculiar, you can only think about Steve. You don't know how long you have been gone for, but those fifteen minutes you said you would be back after have since long passed by.

God, he must be freaking out. He told you to stay inside and you stubbornly went against his wishes. Look where you are now—stranded in a cabin with a malfunctioning foot and a strange man who's nice but also extremely mysterious and hasn't been a part of civilization for many, many years.

"I have a friend who's probably looking for me," you say after an hour of relative silence. He's been gutting fish for some reason, taking out bones and bad parts with a pocket knife. It's now roasting over the fire. You don't really know how he got a hold of fresh fish in the middle of December.

He looks over at you from where he's sitting a few feet away, arms draped over his knees.

"Who is friend?"

"His name is Steve," you tell him. "He's my best friend. We are borrowing someone's house a few miles away from here."

A low murmur of 'Steve' is heard from him, and it almost makes you laugh. The way he says his name—like it nearly offends him—is so humorous you're bound to tell your blond friend about it when you get back.

"He is tall, almost like you. And very strong. I think you would like each other."

That implication was apparently not welcome. His face scrunches up, jaw clenching down while shaking his head to himself.

"No. Do not like Steve," he tells you. "No Steve."

"No?" you chuckle. "Why? You haven't met him yet."

"No. Steve." He glares at you, showcasing those blue eyes of his once more with a stare so intense it has you squirming. "No man."

Your chuckle dies down under his stare, leaving your cheeks to heat while he's observing you. He certainly does have a staring problem, but you don't really want to do anything about it even though it unnerves you. In a good way, mostly.

"Okay," you say softly, letting a small smile grow on your lips to dissipate the sudden tension. "What's your name? I don't think I've asked that."

He thinks for a few seconds. The smile drops as quickly as it appeared when you see his confusion, because who has to think to remember their own name?

"They call me Asset," he speaks up nearly a minute after you posed the question.

Your lips part in quiet shock as you stare at him with your brows furrowed into a concerned frown. Whoever he's speaking about viewed him as an asset. Not a person, a human being, but merely something to serve them. It makes you nauseous. He doesn't look very bothered about it, and that makes you even more sad. Sure, you've made it this far without calling him anything but you want to know his name. You want to know him.

"Asset? I can't call you that," you whisper, shaking your head. "Well, then we'll have to come up with something."

"Your name?" He points at you.

"My name is Y/n."

He lights up slightly when he hears it, looking up at you again. You feel heat traveling to your face, glancing away for a second because eye contact for that long is still hard for you.

"Y/n?" he asks, nodding at you.

His curiosity makes you giggle like a schoolgirl while nodding. Even more so as he repeats your name several times under his breath, as if he barely notices himself what he's doing.

"Asset?" he says again while pointing at himself.

"No," you answer, gripping the furs tighter around your body. Funny how two minutes outside could instill a cold so deep you're still feeling it over an hour later.

"No?"

"No. It's dehumanizing and disrespectful. You are a person, not an object."

"Don't understand..."

You gulp, blinking while glancing into the fire burning a few feet away. He still stares at you.

"You know what? I'll just call you Winter for now. My imagination is lacking and I feel like that encapsulates your energy," you say, maybe more for yourself than him. You know he doesn't understand much.

He nods, seemingly accepting his new name pretty quickly. "Winter...like Y/n?"

"Yeah. Your name." You point at his chest. "Do you like it?"

"Yes. You, uh—you gave it. Like it," he tells you.

Content with the conversation, the two of you fall into a silence while he watches over the grilling fish in front of you. Winter. Somehow it suits him—cold and to the point, warm and soft when he wants to. Yeah, that's a good nickname.

It's your turn to stare at him now. Observing as he takes the fishes off the spear, moving them onto one of the wooden plates he has stacked on the shelf above you.

He crouches down until he's sitting opposite to you, legs bent but still taking up so much space. The plate is pushed in your direction as you unravel your arms from the blanket-cocoon.

Carefully and with slight hesitance, you begin to reach your hand out towards your plate, but it's pushed away with a grunt from Winter's mouth. Instead, he pulls a large piece of the grilled fish and lifts his finger towards you.

"Eat."

You stare at it for a second, blinking before lifting your gaze to his face.

"Oh," you breathe out while he pushes it closer until the fish touches your lips.

You let him feed you, for some reason. But it feels natural when he's the one doing it. Though you have to slow him down sometimes, stopping him from choking you with the rapid pace and quantity of food he seems to want to feed you with.

After finishing one and a half fish, you feel overtly content with your meal. You would have stopped eating after the first one but he keeps insisting on you eating more.

"Winter," you tell him, gently pushing away his hand. His eyes flicker upwards to you when his new nickname falls from your lips.

He nearly pouts at you. "More," he says, holding up his fingers. You shake your head.

"I'm full. No more food."

"But—ugh," he snarls, breathing out a frustrated puff of air. "Don't know how to say."

"It's okay."

You lay a careful hand on his arm, nodding for him to continue. He gulps, letting a few seconds pass by as he thinks hard and thoroughly. You don't want him to feel dumb just because he doesn't speak your language well.

"Want you to feel good. Not sick."

"Healthy?" you ask with a smile as soon as you get the sentiment.

"Yes, healthy. Much food for healthy."

Winter touches your stomach, pressing his fingers into your skin while you chuckle. He's sweeter than you ever would have expected him to be and it hurts to know that you have to leave him soon.

You could very well visit him during the rest of the week you're here, but after that you will be far away. Keeping contact with someone who's barely been socializing with humans for what must be years upon years could be very hard. He doesn't have a phone and probably doesn't take trips that often.

"Not happy?" Winter redirects the subject when he sees your fallen expression, gazing out of the window.

Your short-lived trance is broken by his voice. "No, sorry. I just got distracted for a second," you tell him. "I have to go back soon. To Steve."

All he does is grunt, leaving you to raise your eyebrows in amusement.

"No," he mumbles after a few seconds of shaking his head. "Snow is too much. Much—very dangerous."

You immediately look out of the window again, which is nearly covered in white snowflakes to the point where you can't see much. But you can hear the strong whines of the wind outside, and despite wanting to assure Steve that you're fine you know Winter is right. On this foot you can't go anywhere far, and it's not like you're gonna force him to carry you the entire way.

"Okay," you say softly. "I'll stay until the storm is over."

"Yes? Y/n stay with Winter?"

"Yeah. I'll stay."

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

The crackling sound of the fire has been slowly lulling you towards sleep for the past half an hour. You constantly fight to keep your eyelids open but you know you're going to lose the battle soon if the furs keep enveloping you in a big hug while trying to shield yourself from the cold.

You went out for another bathroom break a while ago. It's dark now, but the soft light from inside of the cabin lit up the grounds outside enough to see a bunny and her babies jumping through the snow.

You just about had a meltdown and Winter thought you had hurt yourself because you were crying. Having to explain to him that no, you were not sad, but just extremely overwhelmed by how cute and pretty the bunnies looked and the dramatics of the whole day was equally difficult and amusing. He seemed quite confused by that explanation, even more so than your reaction.

"Don't understand," he had told you while picking you up again to throw you over his shoulder. Standard practice by now. "Happy crying? So strange."

Now you're leaning against the couch with your legs stretched in front of you. You've been watching Winter carve a handle to the knife blade he just sharpened twenty minutes ago. Somehow you feel he has no real need for a knife when he's built like he is, when he could chase away a whole pack of wolves with merely his presence.

He's so concentrated. Nearly passionate in the way he sculpts that piece of wood, eyes never straying from his craft except for when he looks at you when he thinks you're not looking. With each minute he's nudging himself a little bit closer, thinking you won't notice.

It's cute, really. But you're too tired to read into it and the way your eyelids grow heavier with each passing second tells you that you might not be awake much longer. You don't want to sleep yet—if what you have left with Winter is only this night and tomorrow morning, you want to spend it on something else than laying passed out on his floor.

You want to know more about his story and why he's living in the middle of the woods and why he doesn't have a name and why in the goddamn hell he's so sweet and attentive and god, you might like him a little too much for only knowing him a day.

It's weird, right? You're not supposed to want to stay here with him while having the man you've been in love with for half a decade waiting for you at a cabin you borrowed from his boss, probably (hopefully) worried sick for you. Steve most likely thinks you're dead for god's sake and you're out here thinking about if some Bigfoot man would be able to bench press you. He has to, right? It seems like he could.

And spending time asking yourself rhetorical questions while you should be trying to keep your eyes open is apparently the downfall of your self-control. A poke at your side forces your eyes open with a flutter, gaze flickering down to Winter's finger pressing into your cheek.

"Sleep? Y/n, uh, lay down?" he asks you, nodding towards the bed.

You shake your hand with a yawn, wrapping the furs tighter around your shivering figure.

"No," you say softly. "I can—I'll sleep here. You can take the bed."

He doesn't have a chance to answer before you're slowly lowering yourself down to the floor, snuggling into your blankets with a tired hum and closed eyes. In all honesty, you might freeze to death if you're more than three feet away from the fireplace.

"Y/n," Winter says, nearly chastises. "Y/n."

You don't answer. Too tired to form words and actually speak them. You know he's going to offer you the bed again, but he's been so good to you this past day. He deserves some comfort.

"Small—little bunny," he says, nearly mumbles, hand brushing over your arm and your eyes shoot wide open like a comic book character.

"What?" you breathe out while rolling over until you're facing him.

"Name for you. Like Winter but for Y/n," he says, cheeks flushing red and you can't help but let out a girlish giggle.

"Nickname?" you ask him, smiling much too big for your dignity to still be intact.

"Yes. Not listen to Y/n so use other name."

"You think I look like a bunny?"

The tiredness you felt half a minute ago has suddenly dissipated into thin air while you prop your chin up on your hand, gazing up at him with amusement.

"No," he tells you. "Like words you say—"

Winter stops a few seconds to think, furrowing his brows in frustration. He gets really irritated at himself when he can't find the right words, you've found these past hours. You don't mind at all, but he gets frustrated so quickly when he can't communicate his feelings. It's equally adorable and sad.

"Like cute and uh...pretty. Like bunnies."

You don't say anything—you can't. Laying there dumbfounded and a few degrees warmer than the second before, struggling to hold the intense stare Winter has decided on.

But he keeps on looking at you with those stone-cold and intense yet innocent blue eyes of his, wanting to say something but refraining from doing so. The staring problem is really starting to become an actual problem for you when you can't reciprocate it anymore. Instead you curl into yourself, snuggling into the blankets while avoiding his gaze.

It's getting to the point where you can't decipher wether it's due to his lack of social cues or genuine interest in you. Just one day in his presence and you feel like you can truly exist. He doesn't really judge in the way other people do. It feels nice spending time with someone who doesn't have to know things about you to know you. But it's been less than twelve hours for god's sake.

After what must have been a few minutes but felt like half an hour you drowse into a half-sleep once more. You know Winter is sitting right beside you, hopefully planning to relocate to the bed soon. If he's going to sleep there on the floor your sacrifice would have been redundant but somehow you feel he's stubborn enough to do that.

You've been descending towards sweet unconsciousness for a good while when you hear him rise from his seated position. And you should've known it was coming, even after knowing him for such a short time, when his arms snake around your figure.

For once, Winter hauls you up into a bridal carry, though still lacking that sense of gentleness most people would use on a sleeping person. But you're not sleeping, and maybe he knows that too.

The bed sinks underneath your weight as he lays you down, pillow cold against your head and shivers instantly breaking out when the sheets meet your body. And you suddenly hate the idea of laying alone in this bed absolutely on your way towards freezing to death.

"Winter," you mumble, eyes barely open.

You feel him stop in his movements, hands still on your body from when he laid you down just a few seconds ago.

"Will you lay down with me? I'm cold," you nearly pout. It's childish and bordering on mirroring an opening to some bad 70's porno, but still sincere. The hellish warmth you felt when you woke up before has escaped your mind entirely.

"Sleep?" he asks.

"Yes. Only if you want to. It's okay if you don't," you tell him, breathing out deeply while fighting your tiredness for just a little longer.

You scoot over, lifting the furs draped over your figure to make space for him if he decides to lie down next to you.

And he does.

It's ungracious and a little awkward when what must be at least a 6'6" man climbs into a bed that fits half of him when it's empty. His warmth instantly streams over towards you the moment he lays down, drawing an embarrassingly loud hum of pleasantry from your lips.

A groan descending from the very depths of his stomach sounds from him only a few seconds later. It nearly makes you laugh, but mostly pleases you that he finds this comforting too.

It scares you a little that you might be seeking this closeness to make up for what isn't there between you and Steve. That this natural ease you find in Winter's company is a figment of your imagination. Maybe you're still sitting underneath that tree, on your last few seconds of life with your dying mind creating stupid fantasies?

But it sure feels real when your cornered position against the wall turns into Winter using that goddamn strength of his to maneuver you to lay on top of him. You barely react to his touch until you realize just what position the two of you are laying in.

A soft 'oh' escapes your lips as your cheek meets his chest, large hands wrapped around your back while he snuggles into the crook of your neck.

"Smell so good," he mumbles as he takes in your scent, nose pressing against your skin. "Little—hm, bunny smell good."

Your eyes open wide where you're laying, and he can't see that luckily, but he must be hearing the increased pace of your heartbeats against him. This man is going to be the death of you.

"Hm?" you hum in answer, a strained one and slightly shocked and one that comes out when you don't know what the hell to say.

Winter does that thing he did when you went outside the first time—he pats your head gently, like he's petting a cat or a small child. It's humorous to think that he might've learnt it from those scenarios a long time ago.

You prop your chin up on his chest so you can see his face. It's an awkward angle but somehow you feel he doesn't think about things like that.

He's staring down at you, palm still resting on the back of your head as it slides down to rest at the back of your neck. His eyes are so fucking blue that you are mad about it—who gave him the right? What kind of crazy ass genes did his parents have for him to be so tall and strong and beautiful?

"No tired now?" he whispers, as if it's a secret he's telling you.

You shake your head, which turns out to be a little difficult in this position, while blinking slowly. "I'm still very tired. But I just—I wanted to look at you for a second." You move your hands until they're underneath your chin, palms splayed out against his chest. "Your eyes are very blue. Almost cerulean."

Winter scrunches his nose. Adorable, of course. Ugh.

"What is that word?" he asks you, furrowing his brows and drawing a smile from your lips. "Your words—so hard. Use words I don't know all the time."

"I'm sorry," you answer through a soft chuckle. "Cerulean is a certain shade of blue. Like the sky when there's no clouds."

"Oh," he answers, brows still furrowed in thought.

You wonder if he's seen his own eyes in recent years. Somehow you feel like he doesn't spend a lot of time in front of mirrors. You can't really say the same for yourself—your insecurities make you so paranoid that looking yourself in the mirror has become an addiction. Ever since you woke up in this cabin you haven't thought about how you looked a single time.

"So cold." Winter takes a hold of your hand, lifting it up while running his thumb over your fingers. "Like snow almost."

"Yeah," you sigh. "Hopefully that'll change soon."

"Yes. I, uh—I will warm. Make your hands not so cold anymore."

All you can do is give him a closed-mouth smile while already feeling yourself grow several degrees hotter. Honestly, if he keeps talking he could warm you up from the other side of the room with his words.

"I'm gonna sleep now, Winter," you tell him quietly, holding off a yawn but also feeling that you can't keep your dignity intact much longer. "Thank you for keeping me warm."

"See tomorrow?" he asks you, still holding onto your fingers.

"Yeah," you answer through a chuckle. "See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Winter."

Part II

[holylulusworld]

Aahp (6) - Revenge served cold

Summary: You end up being a pawn.

Pairing: Mobster!Andy Barber x fem!Reader, Mobster!Nick Fowler x fem!Reader, Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Characters: Jake Jensen, Lloyd Hansen

Warnings: angst, mentions of character’s death, mafia business, a lil fluff, Lloyd being Lloyd

Angel and her protectors masterlist

Catch up here: Part 5

Pookie. A term of endearment and affection. Sometimes a euphemism to describe something cute. A pet name for your significant other.

Is that what you are to them? Their significant other, or just a brand-new toy they find fascinating and cute.

You’re like a kitten in a lion’s den, unsure about your next step. Nick and the others made sure that you could not leave their place. It’s not a house, not even a mansion. Their home is a fortress.

It took some time for you to fathom why four grown men would live together on free terms. This place is huge, yes. But sometimes you want to have your peace and quit.

They live together out of necessity, and maybe to avoid making the same mistakes they made in the past.

Jensen, the charming guy they hired to fake evidence and mess with Ransom’s life was rather talkative. He told you about the tragic losses Steve, Bucky, and Andy had to endure.

United they stand since then. Four powerful men against the world.  

“Pookie, what are you doing here?” Nick walks inside the room, confused as you are engrossed in reading the files Jensen gave to you. He’s a nice guy. Jensen wanted you to know what you’re getting yourself into.

“Research,” you lift your eyes from the laptop you borrowed from Jensen. “If you don’t let me go, I need to know what kind of people you truly are.”

“What did you find out?” He hops onto the table next to the laptop. “Anything exciting yet?”

“They all lost their…wives,” you murmur. “Is that the reason you do not want me to go? Do you fear I’ll end up dead like their wives?”

“Andy and the others didn’t know about you. I asked Jake to find out more about you. I knew that Ransom broke your heart and that you were all alone. I had to do something.”

“You knew before you all that before you grabbed me?” You watch Nick with curiosity. “Why would you do that? You didn’t know me, Nick. Not at all. All you knew was that Ransom left me for some other girl.”

“Pookie, I knew you the moment I laid eyes on you. Bucky and the others couldn’t see it at first, but I did. You’re an angel and came into our lives to save our rotten souls.”

“Nick, I’m not an angel. Maybe a little clueless, and stupid enough to fall for a man like Ransom, but no angel.” You shake your head. “I don’t know what you want from me, except the obvious.”

“Oh, Pookie,” he grins wolfishly, “we want so much more than to worship your body. Bucky, Steve, and Andy will have to wait, of course. I saw my sweet angel first.”

You laugh at the seriousness in his voice. The whole situation you are in still feels surreal. How can four men want you after Ransom kicked you out of his life like you meant nothing to him?

Glass shatters. A bullet finds its target. Blood drops to the ground, just like the body that got hit. Men yell, and gunshots pierce through the air, missing their target by an inch.

Out of reach for the angry thugs wasting their ammunition, a man curses under his breath. Lloyd Hansen hates wasting a bullet for a non-deadly shot.

“If only they allowed me to blow his head,” he hums while disassembling the sniper rifle. “Well, my job here’s done. Maybe next time they have the guts to hire me to kill someone.”

Lloyd takes his time. He likes his routine and doing things his way. There is no hurry. He’s sitting on the rooftop of a building far away from his target’s home. No one will find him here. – Not if they want to stay alive.

It’s a week later that Lloyd came to collect for a job well done. Pierce got shot in the shoulder, but survived, just as planned.

“All done,” Lloyd brags while eying you sit next to Nick. He licks his lips, wondering if you are a special thank you for doing his job. “So, do we invite pretty girls now?”

“Lloyd don’t even start,” Steve warns. He’s still not a fan of Hansen and his behavior. “She’s off-limits. No discussion.”

“Her loss,” he shrugs and grabs the envelope filled with money. “Cash is king,” Lloyd smirks when you look his way. Nick wouldn’t tell you what the man did to earn so much money, and you didn’t want to know.

“Can you stay in town for a little longer?” Andy asks. “It’s possible that we will need your assistance again.”

“If you got more of this,” Lloyd lifts the envelope to sniff at it. “You have my guns and charming company.”

“What do you think, Bucky?” Nick looks at his brother, waiting for his approval. “Buck?”

“We should check if Pierce will take the bait. If not, Hansen is as useless as a wart on my ass,” Bucky grumbles. He doesn’t like to sit and wait. “If only you allowed me to end their lives.”

“If we kill Piece and Drysdale, we will start a war. If they kill each other,” Andy shrugs. “We officially had nothing to do with their downfall. Their allies cannot blame us.”

“You’re a sly fox, Mr. Barber,” Hansen chuckles darkly. “I like how you think. Fucking others over is my jam too.”

“As long as you do not fuck us over,” Nick glares at Hansen. Just like Steve, he’s not a fan of Lloyd’s methods. “I hope you remember to not bite the hand that’s feeding you well for years.”

“I’m loyal to my customers, sunshine,” Lloyd flashes Nick a smile. “Betrayal is bad for business, my friend. As long as you pay me well, we have no problem.”

“Guys!” Jake stops the men from getting into a fight. “Activities detected. Someone tries to find the fake bank account I created to transfer money from Ransom’s account.”

“Pierce?” Andy asks.

“I don’t know yet,” Jake types away on the keyboard to trace the person. “Give me a bit of time and we’ll know if Pierce fell for our trap.”

“Sounds like the fun just started,” Lloyd snickers. “I guess I’ll stick around for a little while…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

[nekoannie-chan]

Space travel

Space travel

Title: Space travel.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Word count: 228 words.

Square: 4 “Spacing out.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: A unique travel with Steve.

Major Tags: Fluff.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @eclipsingbingo The Rising Moon Flash Event 2024.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

After the snap, you and Steve didn't know what to do. You couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened. A soft knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts. Opening it, you found Steve standing there, soaking wet but with an attempt at a smile.

“May I come in? “he asked.

You nodded, inviting him in and offering him a towel to dry off.

“Thank you," he said as he dried his hair. "I've been thinking about something. I know it's been hard for all of us. But I've found a way to... distract us."

“What did you have in mind?"

He explained, and you stared at him in disbelief.

“I know it sounds a little crazy," he continued, "but I think it might be just what we need."

The idea of exploring space was strange to you.

Finally, the day of takeoff arrived. The ship was impressive.

Although you doubted that Tony had actually borrowed it, that didn't matter; you wanted anything to distract you.

The sights of distant planets, bright nebulae, and infinite stars filled your senses; you had never thought of seeing them so close.

One night, while watching a meteor shower from the ship's window, Steve turned to you.

“Look at this," he said. "Thank you for coming with me.

“Thank you, Steve; I couldn't have done it without you."

[missvelvetsstuff]

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies?

Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve x Nat, Reader x ?????

Prologue

Chapter 1

Note: idk if I like this story but I have to get it out of my head, probably 2-3 chapters left after this one. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Y/N had slept for almost 24 hours and eaten enough to fill her up, Nat approached her in the kitchen.

"Tony is having a party tonite, to celebrate finding Loki's scepter. He gave me his credit card so do you want to go get a dress for tonite? And maybe some clothes so you aren't stuck in Avengers sweats all the time? We can have lunch and get our hair and nails done as well." She smirked "We can find a blue dress for you, it's Steve's favorite color."

Y/N felt her face flush "Why would I be worried about what Steve likes?"

Nat grinned "I'm a spy, I know how to read people and both of you are giving off some serious vibes. Trust me, he's into you too."

Y/N shrugged "I don't know what you're talking about but I do need some clothes and I've never had a real haircut. I just chop it off when it gets too long." She thought for a minute "Sure, sounds like fun."

They left the tower in one of Tony's cars that Nat borrowed. Driving around Manhattan Y/N felt overwhelmed but something was familiar as well.

"This is all so much. I haven't even left the facility where you found me in years."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it pretty quickly" Nat told her as they pulled into a parking garage on 5th Ave. "Having access to Starks credit and cars definitely helps." She parked and they got out of the car and walked into Saks.

Nat headed straight for evening wear and started looking through the racks when a sales person approached them.

"Ms Romanoff, it's so good to have you here again. I see you've brought a friend" she looked Y/N up and down, sneering slightly at her attire. "I can see she needs our help. What are you looking for today?"

Nat glared at her "We're looking for someone who won't be a bitch because of how we look. Do you have anyone here like that?"

The sales girl, her tag said her name was Sophia, blanched "I'm so sorry, Ms Romanoff, I was just caught off guard. Of course I'm happy to help you in whatever way you need.

Are you looking for a cocktail dress?"

Nat smirked "Yes, Tony is having a party tonite and my friend needs an appropriate dress. Something blue."

Sophia stuttered "Tony Stark? How exciting. Why don't you and Miss...."

"Y/L/N, I'm Y/N Y/L/N"

"Of course. What size do you usually wear Miss Y/L/N?"

Y/N flushed "I don't know, I haven't gotten myself new clothes in ages"

Sophia pulled out a tape measure "Well lets see..." And quickly took her measurements. "A size 7 should fit nicely. I have some dresses that would be perfect for you. Please have a seat and I'll have them brought over.

Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water, tea, soda, champagne?"

Nat nodded "Some champagne would be nice. And none of the cheap stuff."

They spent an hour looking at dresses until they narrowed it down to 3. All shades of blue. Y/N tried them all on and was overwhelmed when she saw herself in the mirror, she felt like a princess.

"I can't choose, they're all so pretty. What do you think, Nat?"

"I agree, it's too hard to choose so we'll get all three. Tony loves throwing parties so you can never be too prepared." Nat replied

Y/N shook her head "I couldn't, that's too much"

Nat laughed "too much should be Tony's middle name. Don't worry about it." She turned to Sophia "what about accessories?"

4 hours later they had all 3 dresses and accessories for each one, plus enough everyday and business style clothes to last a year. And shoes and lingerie. Nat gave Sophia a stern order to make sure it was all delivered to the tower before 4pm. Then they went for hair, makeup and mani-pedi's.

Y/N didn't know how to process everything that was happening. Less than 72 hours ago she was in her cell with no inkling that her life would change so drastically.

"Thank you so much, Nat. I just...."

Nat smirked "Don't worry about it. I have a feeling you're going to feel right at home before too long."

They went back to the tower after a late lunch and finished getting ready. At 9pm they took the elevator to the penthouse where the party was already going full swing.

Nat led her to the bar and poured a glass of champagne for both of them.

Y/N just looked around, watching people, unsure of how to interact.

Steve and Sam were playing pool when Sam noticed Steve was staring at something by the bar.

"You checking out Nat again? I thought that was over."

Steve shook his head "It never really was on, just occasional stress relief. Besides she has something going on with Bruce. Look next to her, in the blue dress. That's Y/N, we found her at the base where we found Loki's scepter. She's a mutant, turns sound into light. She was humming the other night and had this glow around her like a mist of colors. It was beautiful" he sighed.

Sam laughed "You sound smitten. Why don't you go talk to her?"

Steve blushed "I wouldn't know what to say."

"How about hey Y/N you look beautiful, wanna have my babies" Sam offered

Steve snorted "Give me a break.

It looks like Nat is busy with Bruce so I should go be a good host. Don't want to leave her alone with all these strangers. She's been a prisoner since she was a kid so might not be good socially."

Sam laughed as Steve walked away.

Y/N was looking out the window when Steve approached her. She turned and looked at him.

"It's a beautiful view"

Steve was staring at her and agreed "Yeah, it's gorgeous"

She saw he was looking at her and felt her face heat up. "So Nat said Tony throws parties like this all the time"

Steve nodded "This is actually pretty tame compared to some. Before he became Iron Man I think partying was his priority. It's still a favorite past time.

You must be overwhelmed with all this if Strucker kept you prisoner since you were 10. You'll get used to it. We are mostly a happy family." He smiled softly at her.

After the party died down the team sat around drinking and chatting. Most of them tried to pick up Thor's hammer and failed. Only Steve moved it at all but he still couldn't pick it up.

Then Ultron showed up and made a mess of everything. Y/N tried to use her powers to help fight him but was thrown against a wall and knocked out. After Ultron was gone, she came to and heard arguing. Steve helped her up and kept his hand on her back to help comfort her. Once the team decided on their course of action he took her to her room.

"I need you to stay here for now, ok? We'll be back as soon as we can" he told her gently.

Y/N shook her head "I can help. I could come with you and-"

"No" he told her firmly "We need to evaluate your abilities and work together before you get into any fights with us. I don't want you to get hurt so please be a good girl and wait here for me"

She felt a funny tingle when he called her a good girl but pushed it back "Ok. I'll wait here. Please come back safely."

"I promise, sweetheart" he kissed her softly on the lips and made sure she was safe in her room before he left.

While the team went to Africa to stop Ultron, Y/N was having dreams about Steve but with her lack of experience couldn't figure them out. The only sex she had was when Strucker forced himself on her and she thought she would never actually enjoy sex but her dreams said otherwise.

In the morning she saw what happened on the news and knew that it was Wanda messing with the Hulk. If she had been there she could have broken Wandas hex and prevented all that destruction and death.

She jumped when Jarvis spoke to her "Miss Y/N? You have a phone call from Captain Rogers."

"Umm ok how do I take the call?"

"I'll put him thru"

Steve's voice came thru the speakers in her room.

"Hey sweetheart, how are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Hi Steve, I slept a little. I had strange dreams. My life has turned upside down.

Are you ok? I saw the news. Wanda was there wasn't she? If you had let me come I could have prevented-"

Steve cut her off "No. You don't even know if you could have helped Hulk. You aren't going on any missions any time soon.

I just wanted to let you know that we will be gone for awhile. After that mess we have to lay low. Just be a good girl and make sure you eat and sleep. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Y/N felt so helpless as she saw the teams adventures on the news. They went from Africa to Korea. She was frustrated and wanted to help but couldn't so waited for them, for Steve, to return.

When Tony and Bruce returned they barely noticed her and rushed into the lab to work on something.

Steve came to check on her and gave her a sweet kiss before she noticed the twins were with him.

Wanda looked at her "Hello Y/N. Nice to see you again"

Y/N was confused "Steve why are they here? They are nothing but trouble and can't be trusted."

Wanda cringed "I know we have done awful things to you in the past but we didn't realize how bad Strucker was, too caught up in our own rage and grief. I promise we won't hurt you. We want to help stop Ultron."

Y/N looked at Steve "If you are taking them then I should be able to go too. I can help."

Steve chuckled "I know you want to help honey but I don't think a light show will do any good."

She pouted "I can make lasers too. I hate staying here while you risk yourself. Please, Steve." She begged

Her begging did something to Steve but not something that would help in a fight. He was about to tell her no again when Clint walked by

"She's not wrong Cap we could use all the help we can get."

Steve gave in "Promise me you'll be careful. I'd hate to see you hurt."

Y/N didn't do too badly considering the circumstances. She even took out a few robots on her own, including the one that tried to get Pietro and a young boy he was protecting.

Sokovia was still destroyed but most of the people were saved. Sometimes you have to accept how things turn out.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a few days rest Y/N, Sam, Wanda and Pietro started training to become official Avengers.

Y/N and Steve started dating, taking things very slow since she was inexperienced and in no rush.

Nat was devastated that Bruce had disappeared and started spending a lot of time with Steve and Y/N. Every night he would walk Y/N to her room, kiss her good night and leave her on her own.

After a few weeks she noticed Steve and Nat seemed really close and she asked him about it.

Steve shook his head "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. Nat and I are just friends. We've been thru some tough situations together but there's no romantic feelings. She's just lonely because she misses Bruce."

She nodded trusting him.

They went on like this for awhile until General Ross brought up the Sokovia Accords. She took Steve's side but he didn't want her involved in the fight so she made her way to the quinjet and waited for Steve and Bucky. She saw what Zemo did and the fight that came after but couldn't bring herself to hurt Tony so found herself waiting on the jet again.

Y/N went with them to Wakanda and then on the run with Steve and Sam. After months dating, Steve told her he loved her and then told her he had to leave for a couple of days to meet up with Nat for cash and intel. They met up every few weeks and he always came back in a lighter mood.

One time when he returned he asked Y/N for a favor

"I don't want to be separated but Shuri figured out how to remove Bucky's brainwashing and I want you to go help him. Just be a friend. He really likes you and I think it would be good for both of you. You're the only one I can ask, he has bad history with Sam and Nat. I promise I'll come visit when I can."

She looked at him sadly, not wanting to leave the man she had fallen in love with but wanting to make him happy and be his good girl so she went to Wakanda.

Y/N and Bucky became close friends. She didn't mind if he didn't want to talk and they would just be together. If he did want to talk she listened without judgement and she was there for his nightmares. She helped him tend his goats and thought she could have fallen for him if she hadn't met Steve first.

A couple of times a week Steve would call to check up on her but it was always brief because Nat always called him away after a few minutes. He kept promising he would come visit but something always came up.

One day, Shuri showed up at Bucky's hut where Bucky and Y/N were playing chess."I have news, Captain Rogers contacted me and told me to tell you, Thor and Hulk have returned. Asgard was destroyed and all of the Asgardians that survived are here, setting up a home in Norway. New Asgard.

That's not all, the Captain and Tony Stark have worked things out with Gen Ross and Sargeant Barnes is being pardoned. You can go home soon, back to the states but there will be a celebration in New Asgard in a month.

Y/N wondered why Steve didn't call her and went thru Shuri instead but she was trusting and believed he just had too much to do.

Y/N and Bucky spent the next month as they had spent time in the past, strengthening their friendship, enjoying nature and herding goats. They both expected Steve to show up at any time but he never did. He only called once and explained that he was very busy helping Thor and Valkyrie set the new town up. Y/N told him they could help but Steve insisted they stay in Wakanda.

Finally it was time to leave, both of them were excited at being reunited with Steve but also nervous at meeting a whole new group of people.

Steve came in the quinjet to pick them up and after a quick hug and kiss on the cheek he spent the rest of the flight talking to Bucky. Y/N realized they were best friends but she had hoped for a better reunion with her love. She sat alone trying to talk herself down from the anxiety that was building up.

When they arrived in New Asgard the whole team was there to greet them. Nat and Bruce were wrapped around each other while Wanda and Vision were holding hands. Steve was suddenly in a bad mood right after they landed and left saying he just needed to work it off. Nat disappeared shortly after.

Thor gave Y/N a fond greeting and introduced her to Val. They took her and Bucky to a dressmaker to create Asgardian style robes for the celebration the next night. Steve didn't come to see her at all so she figured he was still busy helping and she stayed up talking to Bucky until they were both exhausted and fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

Chapter 2

[jbbarnesandnoble]

Something Borrowed: Part One

Pairing: Teacher!Steve x SingleMom!Reader

Summary: Steve is your attractive neighbor, who happens to be daughters 3rd grade teacher. You’re a single mom with two kids, trying to balance work and raising your children. But never have time for yourself or a relationship. What could go wrong when you’re finally ready to date?

Chapter Summary: it’s the sunday before school starts at your kids new schools. And special occasions require special pancakes.

Warning(s): fluff, an intro to this little family, and a bit of motherly worrying. Warnings will change throughout the series.

Word Count: 1,604

Prompt: Teacher AU

A/N: This is my submission for @marvelfulxbabes writing challenge. I hope you all like this fully little fic of mine! This is my first series for Steve and I have to say I’m very excited about it!! We’re off to a but of a shaky start with this first part. Seeing as this isn’t exactly how i wanted to start this fic off. But i had to stuck with it. This has been a chaotic week to even find the time to breathe, let alone write. I’m sorry:( Feedback is very much appreciated, but never expected and definitely not mandatory!! Hope you enjoy it!

(this isn’t my gif)

The early morning sun peaks through the small spaces in the curtains. Pouring into your room, giving it a warm glow. Sunday’s are your favorite day. They’re peaceful, quiet, and slow paced. At least, that’s how they’re meant to be. With two kids, it makes it hard to find a quiet moment. But today, you found that peaceful -much needed- quiet.

Stretching your arms above your head, pointing your toes out. Your joints crack and pop in a delightful way. You sigh, content when your body relaxes back into the soft mattress. A few moments pass you by. While you enjoy the feeling of staying in bed a little longer today. Another sigh, your feet hit the cool wood of your bedroom floor. When you finally force yourself out of bed. Your feet guide you down the hall, through your home.

It’s a short walk to your kitchen, where your glorious, well loved coffee pot calls to you. A few scoops of coffee grounds and two cups of water later. And your kitchen already smells of coffee. The warm aroma floods your lungs, waking you up. While you wait for the coffee to brew, you take out a few ingredients out for pancakes. Your favorite breakfast food.

Once the coffee is done, your poor yourself a generous amount. Seeing as you’re the only caffeine drinker in the house. You drink it black. Not bothering with cream or sugar.

With a long sip, you feel yourself becoming less sluggish. Now that, that’s done, you focus on the pancakes. Mixing together all the ingredients you need. Throwing in blueberries and lemon zest to make them more special. A couple minutes later and they’re cooked, ready to be eaten. The only problem? You’re missing your two favorite sleepy heads to help you eat them.

Making your way through the livingroom and back down the hallway. You stop in front of your daughter’s door first. Managing to slip in without waking her up. Crossing her room, you stop next to her bed. Crouching down next to her little face. You whisper three little words you know she’ll wake up to. “I made pancakes.” You whispered into her ear, in a sing songy voice. As expected, her green eyes snap open. As wide as ever. “You made pancakes? Blueberry lemon pancakes?” Mary asks, her voice still groggy from sleep. You nod, a smile on your face. Without missing a beat, she sits up. Her blond hair sticks every which way. Wild from her nights sleep.

By the time you stand up, she’s racing down the hall. The sound of her small feet running gets farther and farther away. Then they stop altogether. Before they come racing back towards you. “Did you wake up Harley?” She asks, bouncing on her toes. Her big eyes look up at you, mischief swirls through the green of them. Her toothy smile is a playful one. You shake your head slowly. Mirroring her mischievous expression.

Without saying another word, the two of you ‘sneak’ to the door at the end of the hall. Tiptoeing down the dark hallway. Muffled giggles bounce off of the walls, as you try your best to be sneaky. Easily failing. Her eyes meet your own, both of you whisper as you count down from three. Before opening the door, the room is dark. Except for a sliver of light that peeks through the bottom of the blinds.

Tired of wasting any more time, you turn on the light. Mary runs into the room hopping onto the bed, placed against the wall. Giggles and screams flood the small room. You can’t help but laugh at the sight in front of you.

Mary is sitting on top of her older brother who is yelling, angry the two of you woke him up. Despite the chaos and noise, you feel your heart warming at the sight of your kids. Your kids who you love more than anyone, and anything. In the entire world. “All right, that’s enough. Hop down girly.” Clapping your hands together, you hold them out. Mary pouts, but jumps into your them anyway. “What was that for?” Harley grumbles, pushing his curly brown hair out of his face.

Still holding Mary in your arms. Who’s wrapped around you like a baby koala. You move closer to your son. “I made pancakes.” You smile down at him, giving him a wink. His face softens a bit. “Mary and I didn’t want you to miss out. Isn’t that right?” She nods. You continue. “By having us eat all of them.” turning on your heel, you move towards the door of his room. “But if you would rather sleep-”

“No!” He cuts you off. The excitement for pancakes evident in his voice. Clearing his throat, he continues. “I’m awake now anyway…” he says, trying to put back his facade of disinterested, moody teenager. Not that you believe it for a second. Of course you would never tell him that. For now.

The three of you make your way into the kitchen. You serve up three plates of still warm pancakes. Piled high with extra berries and whipped cream. Extra special toppings for an extra special day. Every year on the Sunday before school starts, you make special, lemon zest and blueberry pancakes. Your kids all time favorite breakfast. It isn’t exclusively for the day before school. It’s for any special occasion. Because special occasions deserves special pancakes.

Grabbing your coffee, you join your kids at the kitchen table. With Mary to your right and Harley across from you. You smile wide at both of them. Before directing a question towards them. “Who’s excited for the first day of school?” The reactions you get from them are both very fitting for their characters. Mary all but bounces up and down. Harley on the other hand looks as if someone ate his pancakes.

His reaction is only fair. It’s their first day of school at their new schools, in a relatively new town. It’s been three months since you moved them here at the beginning of summer, and your kids still haven’t made many friends yet. Mary you aren’t worried about. You wouldn’t be surprised if she became friends with half the class by lunch.

Harley on the other hand, he’s never really fit in. Usually because people tend to misjudge him upon meeting. They don’t take the time to get to know him, or see how kind he can really be. And that scares you. A lot

Monday mornings are a lot different from Sunday’s. It’s a busy, hectic blur as you try to get your kids ready for school and yourself ready for work. Double and triple checking that everyone is ready and has all of their things. You head out the door. The three of you pile into your old truck. You pray it starts. You’re pretty sure Hayley prays it doesn’t. You breathe out a sigh of relief when it does. After a couple tries.

It’s a short, mostly quiet drive. Except for Mary’s excited ramblings. First it’s Mary’s stop. Planting a kiss on her forehead, she hops out of your truck. Her red polka dot dress twirls as she spins around to wave bye. Next is Harley’s school. Glancing over your heart breaks. He’s as close to the door as possible. Staring at the floor. “Har, what’s wrong?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. With him, even if you know what’s going on in his mind. It’s best to ask, otherwise he’ll clam up. Stop talking all together.

A few minutes pass in silence. When you pull up to his school. He finally speaks. “Can’t I just stay home today. It’s not like we’re learning anything important. Just intro to classes.” He mumbles, you almost don’t hear what he says. “Ok,” you state plainly. When he looks at you, his hazel eyes stare at you with gratitude. “Really?” He says louder this time. You nod. “They’ll teach you things you already know. So why go. Right?” He nods again.

Then you look at him fully, face serious. But not angry or upset in anyway. Your eyes remain soft. “But, you can’t do that. No you’re Harley y/l/n and you love school. You love to learn. To build new things.” Pausing, you make sure he’s still listening. He is. You watch as his once hopeful eyes changes to something else. You continue to look at him, despite his eyes shifting towards the ground. You continue. “And sure, people suck. But I hear they have an awesome math and physics teacher. And don’t even get me started on the science lab.”

When his eyes meet yours again, you wink. It pulls a smile from him. It’s tiny, barely even there. But a smile nonetheless.

“Thanks ma.” Saying in the tiniest of voices, he grabs his bag off of the floor, placing it in his lap. “You’re gonna crush it, Har.” Your words are genuine. You mean it. He’s the smartest kid you know. He’s already built three robots and you know he’ll build more. Which is why the school isn’t the part that worries you. But you don’t say that. He doesn’t need to know you worry about that too.

A soft click of his seatbelt and a hand hovering over the door handle. He hesitates. “I love you.” Turning around, he wraps you in a hug. Whispering his words in your ear. “I love you too.” With that he disappears as he enters the small brown building. You head to work. Trying not to worry about your kids.

———

Taglist: @emmandhercoffecrisp​ // @imma-new-soul​

[squippy360]

Steve Rogers x male reader

Steve’s usually kept his guard up, never had let it down, but what happens when he’s dating a guy who’s the more domestically dominant type, where he love taking care of steve, loves taking care of him, and wants steve to be vulnerable around him

Sub!Steve Rogers x Dom!Male reader

Cw:(fluff to smut, Comforting steve rogers, fingering, thigh fucking, smut)

I was simply sitting on the couch, scrolling on social media. I was listening to music and humming slightly to myself. I turned my head to the side when I heard the elevator door open. I winced when I saw my very tired, frustrated, and disoriented boyfriend Steve. I got up and made my way over to him when he dropped his shield and held his head in his hands. He had cuts and bruises all over. I touched his arm and jumped when he slammed it away, looking at me with frantic eyes. I looked around to make sure no one else was around. "Alright, come on big guy. Let's take this to my room." I said gently and somehow picked him up. He hid his face in my neck and clung onto me. His whole body was rigid and stiff. 

I kicked my door open softly and went to the bathroom. I set him down and went to get some supplies. I came back and he seemed to have calmed down a bit. "Stevie? Are you there Love?" I whispered and kneeled in front of him. He nodded and looked to the side in embarrassment. "Sorry about that earlier. I'll be heading back to my room…" He said and went to stand up. "Oh no you don't. I don't trust you alone so I'll be taking care of you." I said stood up, crossing my arms. "Now that I know you can stand, take your clothes off." I said. He looked at me with a blush. "I-I'm sorry?" He stuttered. "Take. Your. Clothes. Off." I growled. 

He looked down with a blush and pulled his suit off. He left his boxers on though. I made him sit back down and kneeled down in front of him. I opened the First Aid Kit and gently took one of his legs. He winced as I cleaned around one of the big wounds he had on his thigh and dabbed some petroleum jelly on the cut. I took some gauze and wrapped it around his thigh. I shifted my focus on his other leg where he had some glass stuck in his skin. I took some tweezers and began to gently pull them out and put them on a tissue. 

Steve's p.o.v

I didn't know what to feel. Aside from Bucky, he is the first person who has ever cared about my well-being this much. M/n is so much like Bucky. He so caring, gentle, smart, quiet, attractive, hot, god he is so hot- 

"Stevie? Would you like to eat something?" M/n asked. I snapped out of my daze with a shy blush and nodded. He put the supplies away and that's when I noticed he had completely washed all the blood away. All my wounds were bandaged and taken care of. "W-Wow." I whispered. I blushed when he picked me up and carried me back to his room.  He put me on the bed and went through his dresser drawers. "You can borrow these until you go back to your room in a couple of days." He said and helped me put a shirt on and some sweatpants. "Days?! This is humiliating…" I said and hid my red face in his sheets. "C'mon it's not that bad. I know how sore you get after missions like that." He said and laid me down properly. "Don't move, I'll be right back." He said and left. 

I sighed and just sat up to lean against the headboard. I got out my phone and checked my messages real quick. 

Sammy: Yo Steve! I heard you got caught again! Haha

Stevie: M/n literally dragged me and held me down 😞

Canman: Shouldn't have made all those flashy moves, Rogers🤷

Stevie: I was just doing my job :(

Sammy: good luck with that 😂

Frosty paws: Says the one in my lap rn-

Big_angy: must be nice 😒

Zeus: I am coming my love💞

Big_angy: 💙

I huffed and grabbed one of the pillows and held it as I curled up. "Steve? I got something to make you feel better!" M/n said and carried in a tray. I looked over and saw some steak with rice and a slice of Apple pie that was heated and a scoop of Ice cream on top. "Aww. Thank you so much, Darling!"  I said and took the tray. I tensed when he wiggled in behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "W-What are you going?" I asked. "What? I can't cuddle my favorite person?" He said smoothly in my ear. "N-No…I mean yes!" I sputtered. "Adorable~" He chuckled and nuzzled on my neck, pulling out his phone and watching a cat and dog compilation. I rolled my eyes playfully and continued eating my desert. 

After a bit, I looked down to see what M/n was taking pictures of us. I blushed and pushed his phone away quickly. "What was that for?" I stuttered in a flustered manner. He laughed and closed his camera app. "Sorry. You just look so adorable when you're enjoying something." M/n said and smirked. I elbowed him lightly and went to get up. "Oh no you don't." He said and pulled me back in his lap. "Lemme get up! I gotta wash this!"  this!" I whined. "I'll do it then." He said with a proud smirk and walked away. 

Steve sat in silence as he heard distant water running. I took this time to curl up in his bed, wrapping the warm blankets around me to go to sleep. After a while M/n finished and went back upstairs. "Stevie! Do you wanna- oh…he's asleep…" M/n said. My heart skipped a beat when I felt the bed move from behind me and his arm wrapped around me. "Goodnight, Steve." He whispered and kissed me on the nape of my neck. 

(Your p.o.v)

He looked so at ease now. The way his body was so relaxed now made me feel like I did my job well. He's just so obedient when it comes to me even if he doesn't notice that I notice. I love taking care of him. Steve is just such a wonderful boyfriend-

"Kiss me on the mouth!" He said suddenly. I jumped and blushed when he flipped around to face me. "Steve…of course." I said and caressed his face with my hand. I leaned in and kissed him softly. I could feel his face heating up against mine. We pulled away and I smirked at him with hazy eyes. He was squirming and avoiding eye contact.

"Are you sure a kiss is all you want? We can take it further, if you'd like? I'm always willing to go further with you." M/n whispered to me. "Please~" He said with big desperate puppy eyes. "Of course, Love. Let me do all the work." I whispered and shimmed down further in the blankets. He gasped when I pulled off his shorts. 

"M/n…" Steve breathed out. "I'll be gentle with you. I don't wanna make you any more sore than you already are…or maybe I do~" I smirked and pulled his cock out. I purred and sucked on the tip. He arched his back against the bedsheets and moaned softly. "G-Gosh M/n…ngh~" Steve moaned when I wiggled my finger into his tight hole. He rolled onto his back and spread his legs wider. "I-If you keep doing that I-I'll cum…!" Steve begged as his legs twitched. 

I held his thigh with one hand and went down further on his cock, I moaned lightly and slowly put a second finger in his now wet hole. I grunted a bit when he came down my throat. "Yesss!!!" He let out a drawn out moan and fisted the blanket. He looked down and lifted the blanket up to look at me through his big chest. I opened my mouth at him and chuckled when his face turned even more red. I crawled up back to the surface and kissed him. He kissed back and hugged me. "You're so cute…" I whispered to him and pecked his lips. 

I shimmied off my pants and took out the lube. I applied a generous amount on both of us to make sure I didn't hurt him. "Be a good boy and stay still." I growled and slowly eased my cock in his tight hole. He gasped and rolled his hips against me. I lightly slapped his thigh. "Sit still." I purred. He nodded and hid his face in a pillow. I slowly fucked into him. "Ooooh~ That feels so good~ Nghhhhhhh~" Steve whined. I touched his chest, squeezing and pinching his chesticles. "M/n! Please!" He begged quietly and let out another drawn out moan. "Fuuuck you feel so good~" I growled and went faster. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he arched his back. "Yes Yes Yes Right There!!!" He screamed. "You're going- ngh…to blow a fuse Babe." I groaned. He let out a moan of frustration and I went faster. I saw how desperate his cock was so I decided to ease his frustrations. 

I jerked him off at my thrusting speed. He moaned loudly and hugged my hips with his legs. "Fuck baby!" I groaned and went faster. I cried out and came on his tummy. "M/N!!!" He cried out. I ceased all movement, panting and going to pull out. "W-Wait! Aren't you going to cum as well?" He asked suddenly. I smiled and caressed his sides. "I can deal with it later. I don't want to hurt you-" I started but he cut me off. "Then use my thighs. I wanna make you cum too!!" He said. My cock twitched at that idea. "Fuck…hell yeah…" He said and flipped on his side. I got behind him and immediantly fucked his thighs. They were thick and just as tight as his hole. I groaned loudly and hugged his body close to me. "C-Cumming…!" I cried out and came all over his thighs and my bed sheets. 

"God you're so perfect…" I whispered and kissed him. He whimpered and turned back around to kiss me. "Only for you~" He teased with a smirk. I rolled my eyes and got out a rag and wiped our mess. "Wanna take a shower?" I asked. "Too tired…sleep…" He mumbled and buried himself back in the sheets. I giggled. Abit and kissed his neck. "My good boy~" I purred and coddled him. Little did we both know what the others were saying in a certain chat room. 

Next up: Stephen Strange x Femboy!Male reader

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance Masterlist

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia families. References to arranged marriage. Coercion. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Part 1: Hidden Gems

Part 2: Rapunzel

Part 3: Homecoming

Part 4: Whispers

Part 5: Sealed with a Kiss

Part 6: What We Need

Part 7: A Charade

Part 8: Reckoning

Part 9: High Stakes

Part 10: Temptress

Part 11: Union of the Snake

Part 12: Something Borrowed

Part 13: Kiss the Bride 

Part 14: Negotiations & Promises

Part 15: The Wedding Present

Part: 16 Allies & Demons

Part 17: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

Part 18: Echoes of the Past

Part 19: Love Under Will

Part 20: Promises Kept

Part 21: A History of Violence

Part 22: Doppelganger

Part 23: Who Do You Trust?

Part 24: Revelations

Part 25: Just Breathe

Part 26: Duplicity

Part 27: Taking Care of Business

Part 28: Fatal Trespasses

Part 29: There For the Taking

Part 30: Illusions

Part 31: Girl on Fire

Part 32: The Rising

Part 33: Under Pressure

Part 34: Renewal