#the steve rogers who never backed down from a fight won by surrendering and believing in bucky's love and goodness

[possibleplatypus]

I was thinking about the parallels between the two times in CATWS where Steve takes off his helmet when facing an opponent, and I found them interesting.

First he feels like he needs to prove something to Batroc, the pirate he's been ordered to apprehend. At his goading, he puts away his shield and takes his helmet off 🤦

I feel like he does this out of a misplaced sense of pride, or fairness, or cockiness? Dude took a bunch of SHIELD personnel hostage and Steve agrees to play his game/indulge him. "I thought you were more than just a shield," Batroc says, so Steve puts away his shield and helmet to face him not as Captain America, but as Steve Rogers. To prove him right-- that Steve was more than a symbol, a lackey of his masters, and he didn’t need the shield to win. Which was, in my humble opinion, unnecessary in regards to finishing the mission, and also put him in danger.

Or maybe he did it partly to stick a middle finger up at SHIELD itself? The organization he joined to help people but didn’t tell him anything important and treated him like an asset instead of a person? On the books, he’s Captain America, but ultimately he will do things Steve Rogers’ way. And Batroc literally asked to meet Steve Rogers, so here he is!

And then... he does the same thing with Bucky. He takes his helmet off and flings his shield away without a second thought-- but without Bucky having to ask. Kind of like the opposite of when he faced Batroc, who asked to meet the man behind the symbol, Steve takes his mask off without prompting because he desperately needs Bucky to see his real self.

He wore his old Captain America uniform in the hopes that it would jog Bucky's memory. But it was only after he tossed the symbols aside-- the helmet and the shield-- and faced (or rather, surrendered to) Bucky with open arms as Steve Rogers, that Bucky truly recognized him, Steve won, and Hydra lost.

It was Steve Rogers who was bloody and beaten all to hell with multiple bullet wounds and still repeating Bucky's words of devotion back to him. It was Steve Rogers who Bucky swore to follow into the jaws of death, not Captain America. And it was Steve Rogers who Bucky dove after and saved from the river, even when the Winter Soldier barely remembered him.

Both times Steve took off his helmet and put away his shield to fight an opponent, he won. The first time was unnecessary-- he could have beaten Batroc as Captain America-- but it was important to him personally that he faced him as Steve.

With the Winter Soldier though, I don't think Steve would have won and gotten through to Bucky had he not thrown the trappings of Captain America aside. Sure, maybe he could have captured or knocked Bucky out had he been willing to hurt him, but he wasn't. As soon as his main mission was over (saving 750k people), his personal quest to get Bucky to remember him took precedence. It was a goal Steve Rogers would have died for, and he nearly did. (A good thing that his best friend was still there, and that Bucky waded in and pulled Steve out of trouble like he always did.)

I guess what I found interesting was, the first time Steve took his helmet off and put aside his shield, it was for pride. The second time, it was for love.

[mrwinterr]

Happy

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for. 

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual and protected sex, oral [male and female receiving], vaginal fingering, belly bulge, light degradation) dirty talk/language and recording. Mentions of drugs and alcohol and a tiny bit of angst.

Disclaimer: I don’t smoke regularly, so anything that has to do with drugs mentioned are techniques I’ve outweighed based on what I’ve been taught by different people. I don’t know which method works best nor am I encouraging the activity. It just came with this fic’s territory. It’s not that deep. You do you, boo. 

Title Inspiration: “Happy” by The Maine 

A/N: I might or might not have based some of this on true events. All I can say is, life is short, shoot your shot! Enjoy! 

A/N #2: There’s a Part 2 now!

“You owe me.” Your friend next to you said for probably the third time this hour. You learned earlier in the day to tune her out. She had been saying that since you persuaded her to accompany you on the weekend long road trip to the neighboring state just so you could see your favorite band…again.

Growing up your parents thought this was just another phase, but as your teenaged years passed on by and you’re now well into adulthood, you’re still a bigger stan for The Avengers as ever.

The Avengers consisted of three members: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Everyone had their take on each of the guys, Steve was the nice one, Sam was the goofy one and Bucky was the bad one. It was silly. They weren’t *NSYNC or The Backstreet Boys, but the fangirls will be fangirls.

Their music wasn’t exactly mainstream, but they did very well within in their genre’s scene. They graced the covers of a couple of magazines, garnered thousands, close to millions, of views and streams online, were featured on TV every now and then, toured around the globe, sold a bunch of records, even independently, but despite all that notoriety, they stayed true to their sound and that’s what kept you around as a fan.

That and the band’s front man Bucky Barnes. 

He was hot – plain and simple. Ok, maybe he was just that to most, including your friend who couldn’t deny it, but you didn’t want to objectify the man. What their music had done to get you through the years, they were more than that. There was a level of respect there. You also didn’t buy into the “bad boy” gimmick the fans have dubbed for him. They were human beings just like the rest of us. Imagine being called something like that by the public? They just so happened to be fortunate enough to share their talent to the rest of the world.  

“You’ve already seen them. I don’t know why you think you need to for what a tenth time?” She clearly wasn’t amused by your infatuation with the band, but she was still your friend and she would always be by your side through thick and thin even if she didn’t have the same taste in music as you. You loved her for that. Who else would stand for hours in a dark room full of loud, sweaty, smelly, rude even, and sometimes drunk people with no self-control for you? She really was the real MVP.

And she was right though. You’ve already seen The Avengers perform. It was probably more, but you’ve lost count. Whenever they’re in your city or two to four hours in the next one over, you loved this band alright!

You both were polar opposites standing next to each other in line waiting for the venue doors to open. She was calm and still, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face – she could almost play as the “mom that tagged along and didn’t want to be there” – but you knew she wasn’t really mad. There was a bar inside she could occupy herself at. You on the other hand were trying to contain your excitement. You tried your best to not fidget around in anticipation so much. You didn’t want to sweat off your makeup that you managed to apply on point or get an embarrassing stain on your clothes.  

“It doesn’t matter,” was always the response you gave her, “their music means everything to me. I’ll always come out to support them.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and scoffed a bit at that. She wasn’t trying to knock you down. She knew you deeply liked the band, but she also knew another side of you, and she liked to pick at it. “Yeah that and you’re into Bucky,” she said and just flat out poked at the side of your breasts. The bra that you chose to purposely wear tonight gave your boobs an extra push and it didn’t go unnoticed by her. They were out there, tastefully, since you were hardly the flashy type. 

“Okay, but who isn’t?” You flare back swatting her hand away and trying to shut her down. You didn’t need to have this conversation with her while other fans were around. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl. You weren’t 13 anymore.

“Chill.” She said raising her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t going to fight you on this one again.

When the top of the hour hit, the roar of the crowd signaled the doors had opened. Once inside, you hit the line to the bathroom considering you’d been outside for a few hours. You didn’t just have to pee, but you needed to freshen up. Your cheeks were a bit flushed from standing in the heat. You dabbed lightly at your face with a small blotting sheet, sprayed a bit of body spray and finished putting every hair back into place before finding your friend, who was already at the bar.

You sported a 21 and up paper wristband that was handed at the entrance, however you weren’t planning on drinking. Usually you had one or two drinks at most, but you were assuming you would be the designated driver tonight. You just always flashed your ID to the bouncer for the wristband to emphasize that you were of age. Unfortunately, some bands have had a bad reputation of fooling around with underaged girls, who lied about it.

She held up her drink to you with a smile on her face. Yeah, you were going to be the one driving back to the hotel, but at least she’s happy. She tried to coax you into ordering a drink of your own, but you only shook your head at her nonsense and stood away from the crowd.

As an avid concert goer, you’ve been to enough shows that you’d been in every section of the crowd. Hell, you’ve even gone crowd surfing before! Plus, you couldn’t hang with those vicious and hormonal fans in the crowd anymore, so you learned to enjoy the show from the back with a full view.

The opening bands were decent. You’d never heard of them, one was probably local, but you always believed live music was just as good, if not, better than opposed to being recorded and remastered at a studio. 

During their sets, you caved and bought a drink from the bar, hoping it’d help to pass the time before the headliners came on. Your friend was seemingly on her phone when a random guy approached you asking if he could buy you a drink. The house lights were on. Did he not see the can of beer in your hands? You politely declined his offer and further advances until he gave up and walked away.  

“Girl. He was cute!” Your friend said shoving you lightly.

“I wasn’t interested,” you shrug and taking a swig of your drink. 

“You’re not being fair,” she started and seeing that you weren’t catching on continued, “you can’t wait around hoping that one day Bucky will notice you. Honey, he came here to play a show and make money not look for a girlfriend.” Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh, bursting your bubble like that and all, but her intentions were good. Bucky Barnes just set the standards too high.

She wasn’t wrong. Guys like Bucky meet new people every day, met girls probably way prettier than you. The majority of their fans were female because let’s face it, the guys had sex appeal and you know what they say…sex sells.

Looking around the venue, you took in the kinds of girls you were going up against. There was a mixture of women of different backgrounds and sizes decked out in different styles, but the ones who won most of the time were the ones that looked good dressed in risqué clothing and heels. Some of them probably even wore less make-up than you or none at all. You couldn’t understand how it was effortless for some people.

It wasn’t that you had low self-esteem. You had your fair share of internal struggle, so sometimes your insecurity played its part. You had your good days and you had your bad days.

You decided upon wearing something simple that you would be comfortable in while still serving a look. And the only other significant thing you did to your make-up was add in a little more shimmer. Yeah you wanted to impress, not sell your soul to the devil.

“Okay, but I just really wasn’t interested,” you said again hoping she’d understand. She did, aware you wrestled with that demon in your head always taunting and ridiculing you that you could look better when you’re perfect just the way you are. With an added bonus of telling you that Bucky was missing out if he hasn’t noticed you already, she ordered another drink in time before the lights dimmed and ear-piercing screams erupted to alert that The Avengers finally took the stage to headline the show.

Like each of the shows you’d previously attended, they were amazing. They poured their hearts out with each beat and belt. Every lyric resonated with you so deeply. There was just so much raw emotion packed into their performance. The beauty of concerts was that they were designed to let you forget about all the bullshit happening in the world for a few hours. They were therapeutic for you.  

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say your friend secretly liked The Avengers’ music because she broke you out of your shell and had you swaying along with her to their songs…that or it was the alcohol taking over her. You didn’t fight it and you allowed yourself to let loose.

You tried to give each member equal attention, watching them as they played, but you couldn’t help but keep your eyes on Bucky the most. They were just trained on him. His cheeky smile and onstage presence were electric. The mere sight of him, all sweaty as his clothes stuck to his skin accentuating his toned body so well, all but had you shuffling trying to ease your body’s frustration and mind.

The only time you looked away was when you swore you thought he looked at you. Making eye contact with someone on stage was kind of awkward sometimes, but with him it was almost intimidating. Believing he was probably staring at the girl behind you, you downed the rest of your drink, pushed that thought away and tried to enjoy the rest of the show.

A full set of songs that showcased their albums and a two-song encore later, you were driving yourself and your buzzed friend back to your hotel room. It wasn’t that far from the venue, electing to stay within its vicinity. Upon entering the room, you tossed the shirt you bought at the merch booth on your bed before removing your leather jacket while she face-planted down on her bed, arms wide open, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief. You couldn’t blame her. It felt great to rest right after standing on your feet for hours.

Your back rested against the headboard, you knocked your boots and socks off a while ago and had your bare feet up on your bed. You hadn’t changed out of the rest of your clothes or even wiped off your make-up yet. Instead, you sat there skimming through the timelines of your social media accounts while you waited for your friend to get out of the shower.

You had posted a few photos and videos of the night to your story, like your outfit, a few of you and your friend sightseeing, and of The Avengers’ set. You refreshed your timeline and noticed Bucky’s account pop up before everyone else that you followed. It’s no surprise that you were following them on social media. You liked seeing them share the personal moments of their lives. They used to be interactive with their fans. Bucky had even once commented on the old photo you had with the band years ago.   

You met them after a show when they were just starting out with their first full-length album debuting that summer. Now, they hardly came out because all it took was one crazed fan to ruin it for everyone else. Their popularity sometimes deemed it unsafe for venues to let them stick around so late, restricting them from meeting their fans.

You click on Bucky’s account and go through his story. There was one of a view of the open road from their tour bus, a clip of a song he liked, a cryptic quote with a deep underlying meaning to it, him getting ready to go on stage and then of the show.

He had taken a photo of the crowd towards the end of the set, asked fans to tag themselves if they could, because the crowd was amazing…as if they didn’t say that in every town they played in.

His caption read: “Awesome crowd tonight! Probably our best show yet!” topped with how much he loved the city. Sometimes you wanted to reply to his posts like he was one of your friends, but then you second guessed yourself knowing he’d never see the message, or he would and just ignore it because he was busy. You knew it was a long shot, but what did you have to lose and what is it that they said these days? Shoot your shot.

You didn’t linger on the body of the message for too long, settling with a “Great show tonight! You guys were amazing as always! :)” hitting send and closing out the app thinking it would conceal any embarrassment that might come out of it. It was a ridiculous thought.

After surfing through the channels of the TV and picking at the food you had delivered to your room, your phone pinged. You saw that it was a notification from your social media account, but once your face unlocked the phone and the subject appeared, you nearly choked on the drink you were sipping on.

Bucky Barnes sent you a message.

Your heart pathetically started beating really fast. The phone almost slipped from your hands as you opened up the toxic app again to read what he said. He probably just sent you an emoji or something.

“Thanks for coming out.”

That was it. Okay, what did you except? A proposal. That was a fair response. He probably had some downtime and was able to reply to people. You couldn’t be that special…but thinking you could strike gold again, you started typing up a response.

“Of course! Will always be out there to support you guys! Hope the city treats you well and have a safe rest of the tour.” Yeah, that was a good one. You say to yourself thinking that would be the end of it…except it wasn’t.

“Appreciate it. You know of any good spots around here?”

Nope. You did not. Do you look up some recommendations for him? No, that’s too much. Great, you’re having a conversation with him through DMs and you can’t even genuinely contribute enough to hold it down.  

“No, not really. I’m not from here actually. My friend and I drove here just to catch the show. Maybe YELP?” Shit. You just might’ve effectively got rid of him with turning him to the Internet instead.

“No way! That’s love. Good thinking.” They came through in separate text bubbles.

Why were guys so short? You couldn’t work with that. You thought about it for a while but came up with nothing, so you sent the sassy ‘girl sticking her hand out’ emoji as a reply. Damn, you were really bad at this.

Several minutes passed by and thinking you were really done with him; you got another message. It was Bucky again and he sent you a photo. It was from your own feed; the group photo of you and his band mates all those years ago.

“I thought I recognized you.” You sat up straight as you read that message over and over, eyes bugging. Thankful your friend was taking her sweet time in the bathroom, so she wouldn’t see you all strung up.

What? There’s no way. That was a long time ago. Your thoughts spiraled at his words that had you blushing. He’s pulling your chain.

“Impossible. That was forever ago!” I guess two could play this game then.

“I swear. You tripped and fell into my arms that night.”

What the hell? He actually remembered that? Yeah, that did indeed happen. You had been waiting outside surrounded by a bunch of other chatty girls, pushing and shoving their way to get to Bucky first. By the time he turned to you and you stepped forward, you lost your footing and fell straight onto him. He played it cool, but then you heard Sam, who was trapped in his own circle of girls, signing and taking pictures away, that Bucky has girls falling for him all the time.

“OMG. That was so embarrassing, and I was so awkward!” You couldn’t even speak to him when you managed to hold your own ground. You were young then, you thought you effectively put that behind you.

“You weren’t awkward! You were cute and that’s what has stuck with me since. One of the most memorable moments.”

Yup, he was definitely pulling your chain. While you were ecstatic that you were interacting with your favorite artist, you couldn’t help but wonder why you. He was a public figure and you were just a fan.

“Is this weird?” Came through as his next message after your silence. 

Oh, no. I hope I didn’t offend him. You might as well tell it like it is and get it off your chest.

“I don’t know...just a bit. Probably because I’m just a fan? I feel like you should be careful. I mean I should be too…” You really did wonder though. How was it that people of his status were willing and freely open to people they barely knew only to get threatened of being leaked and blackmailed by their own nudes or messages? What made them trust the other party so easily with that kind of stuff? They couldn’t be that dumb. Well, you got your answer.

“I don’t think of you or anyone as just a fan, but you are right…at the same time I feel that you’re grounded enough and a good person that we can trust each other. If that makes sense.”

You weren’t sure if it did. He still didn’t really know you.

“Awe, well that’s really flattering. I totally understand that because that’s how I feel.” Did you? There was a pause between that message and the next that would come.  

“What’s your cell?”

Really? It was just that easy? Oh, okay then. Nonetheless, you still gave him your number. The DMs stopped and transferred over to text messages. You have Bucky Barnes’ phone number. What fan fic were you living in? Shit like this doesn’t just happen, does it?

The texts between you and Bucky went back and forth, some playful and some slightly suggestive, but you were completely oblivious to them thinking that was just in his nature. You found out the band was staying in for the night before heading back out on the road tomorrow afternoon off to the next city. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath when you stared at his most recent text asking if you wanted to hang out. It was kind of late, but you didn’t get a guy like Bucky Barnes asking you to hang out on the regular.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questioned breaking your train of thoughts. You could see her from your peripheral that she was towel drying the ends of her hair even though you’re still staring at your phone.

“Bucky sent me a DM inviting me to his hotel room.” You answered in a stoic demeanor, but it felt really strange coming out of your mouth.

“Okay. How long was I in the shower?” Your friend asked with her hands on her hips wanting an explanation.

You recount the details and show her the messages you and Bucky had been sending to each other. She scrolled through each of them and you could see the look of apprehension forming on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said her words trailing before giving you a worried look, “shouldn’t you be the slightest bit concerned?”

“About?” You ask taking your phone back from her.

“All of this!” She exclaimed her arms outstretched in exasperation and not understanding why you were so blinded by Bucky. “You briefly met the guy, years ago might I add, and you decide it’s okay to meet him at his hotel room in a city you don’t even live in?”

Alright, it did raise a couple of red flags, but you were a consenting adult and you lived a life of being cautious and in fear a little too much you wanted to be reckless for at least one night.

“I know you’re only looking after me, but I got to go for it. You know I like him! Sure, I may not know him on a personal level, but I’m allowed to have some fun, right?” You try reasoning with her. Just how different was all this compared to what people around the world were already doing with each other anyways?

She was a bit skeptic before reluctantly agreeing and letting you go but with the promise from you to be careful, share your location and his room number with her just in case she needed to save you or come after him. You thanked her for understanding and assured her that you’d be back before check-out in the morning.

On the drive to his hotel room, you thought about how you always imagined the different scenarios of what it’d be like when you’d ever meet Bucky again. What things you’d do differently or say. How you’d make sure to not trip or do something to embarrass yourself the next time. How you’d be more confident.

Parking was a pain in any city’s downtown, you ended up having to pay for parking twice in one night. Not surprising to you, they stayed in a nice hotel. It wasn’t over-the-top nor was it fancy, but it was definitely clean and a slight step up than of what was in your budget for booking a room.

When you’re finally at his door, you wonder if you were going to be catfished. Were there other people in his room? Were you really that special? Fuck it. Was the final thought, putting an end to the rest, and knocked at his door.

You hear a click and sliding of the chain door unlock, then you’re face-to-face with Bucky. He’s dressed down in sweats and a zip-up hoodie. He shoots you a smile and steps aside for you to come inside, there wasn’t much light offered to illuminate the room other than the ones the lamps attached on the wall between the beds and what little the TV could provide.

“Oh, thank God. You’re real.” Motherfucker. Did you really just say that?

Bucky laughed at that and you explained, honest with him, that this whole thing just felt surreal. He nodded in agreement, offering to take your jacket from you and a drink. It was alcoholic. Not denying him, you accepted it and waited to see what he would do next.

You watch him sit down on the king-sized bed with his feet up, one foot over the other. You’re standing there next to the dresser that also served as a stand for the TV he was watching a random show on. Not sure what to do, you set the drink aside, kick off your boots, leaving them next to the luggage rack, and sit on the spot next to him with a considerable amount of distance between your bodies.

It’s quiet and you’re trying to hush the voices in your head. Did he really invite you to just watch TV with him? Is this awkward for him? Oh, no. He’s going to realize I’m boring.

You feel the bed shift and you see Bucky is leaning over, opposite of you, to grab something from the nightstand. You don’t see much of what he’s doing as your view was blocked by his large back. When he changes positions, a brief spark of a flame emits from his hands. Your eyes trail up from his hands to his lips and notice it was a blunt. You were pretty sure this was a non-smoking room, but it wasn’t under your name, so it didn’t really matter in the end.

Of course, he did that kind of stuff. It was part of the lifestyle to be exposed to it. He took a steady hit and you watched as he exhaled slowly, a cloud of smoke disappearing into the air in front of him.

“Want a hit?” He asked passing and offering you the blunt.

It’d been a while since you last smoked anything. You tried it a few times and even then, you didn’t think you did it right. You stare at the neatly rolled blunt in between his thumb and forefinger, but not too long as to not let it go to waste and ash up all over the bed.

You steadily take it from him and carefully attempt to take a puff. Wrong. That puff was anything but steady. Not realizing how close you were actually sitting next to Bucky, when you tried to exhale you ended up coughing – terribly. Bucky’s face scrunches up as he braces for the impact of white smoke to hit his face.

“Oh my God,” you say covering your mouth in disbelief, but it was a bad idea because your body didn’t like that, and you ended up coughing even harder.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to get out in between your coughing fit while passing him back the blunt and trying your best to waft at the smoke. Well, if you thought your first encounter with Bucky was embarrassing. This had to take the cake. It wasn’t proper etiquette to blow smoke in the other person’s face.

He waves it off letting you know that it wasn’t a big deal before taking another hit. He even begins to give you a few pointers to inhale in increments, until you get used to the smoke. You don’t even notice the long looks Bucky gives you hit after hit. You take a second to let the smoke stay in your mouth before you give it a second inhale, letting it process through your system before gently exhaling. It was a lot of fucking steps to remember.

“Don’t try to put too much emphasis into the exhalation,” he said as he watches you take another hit, almost perfecting it and with each puff and pass being deeper and longer than the previous, “see, you’re getting the hang of it!” He whimsically lifts his hand up for a high-five that you softly pat in return, but he seizes that moment to hold your hand instead, intertwining his fingers with yours.

The more you breathed in the more your body started to relax. All the edge was taken off and you felt good. You and Bucky continued to pass the blunt, smoking whatever was left of it and what he had with him, as you told random bits of information about yourselves to one another. By now, you and Bucky were leaning on each other, backs against the headboard, the TV barely audible as it continued to play a rerun of whatever that was on earlier.

“You know I really do remember you?” He says causing you to turn your head to look down at him. He has his gaze fixed on your hands, his thumb barely grazing the back of your hand. He’d been playing with your hand, drawing random shapes on it.  

“That’s hard for me to believe,” you answer back truthfully.  

“Why?” Bucky questions while looking up at you. He was in a slouched position, his hoodie and shirt rising up, allowing you a thin glimpse of his skin, while you sat a little higher up than him. 

You admired his handsome face, the crease lines in his forehead, the faint and not so faint marks scattered all around it, his wet lips that shone when he ran his tongue over them and the stubble that surrounded it all down to his adorable nose. Then there were those blue eyes that once put you in an overawe of intimidation, were now a bit alarming in a new sense. They were swirling and growing darker.

“You meet new people every day, Bucky. There’s no way that I could’ve been that unforgettable to you.” You just couldn’t wrap your mind around that. Staring at him, you tried to read him, but you were too faded to concentrate.  

“But you were,” he tells you in a low voice just before you notice his eyes shut and he leans in to place an experimenting kiss to your lips. He pulls back to quietly study your expression, and when you don’t show any sign of disapproval, he goes in for another.

This time with added pressure, more emotion, Bucky pulls you down by the back of your neck and casually slips his tongue in your mouth the moment your lips parted. Your heart started racing when you reciprocated his kiss, trying to keep up with him. He definitely liked to dominate. You could even slightly taste the blunt you both shared moments ago as his tongue tangled with yours.

He slips off his hoodie leaving him in a dark gray shirt. Navigating his body over yours, he pulls you down into a more comfortable position. He’s cradling the side of your face as your lips continue to move one another, getting hungrier and hungrier.

The movements cause your top to ride up, exposing your midriff. His hands wander down to caress your skin before you feel his fingers grip at the waistline of your jeans. You instantly grab his hand and stop him. This was moving all too fast for you.

Bucky didn’t press on it for too long and slipped his fingers out, running his hand back up your side and this time underneath what your tank top was covering left of your upper body. His hand snuck back out and started tugging at the material bunched underneath your breasts. When your top was finally discarded to reveal your red bra, he latched onto your neck, kissing up along your jawline and nipping at your ear, the sound of his harsh breathing sent a tingle at the contact and shivers through your entire body.

You winced when you suddenly felt one of his hands at the back of your head, yanking a handful of your hair causing your head to snap back. It gave him more access and you closed your eyes letting the sharp pain run its course and turn into something pleasurable as he practically devoured your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, getting high on you, and possibly the lingering aroma of the drugs, and sucking tiny splotches onto your skin then licking to soothe them.  

He pushed aside the straps of your bra as his lips travelled down your shoulder before stopping at the curve of your breasts. You briefly opened your eyes to see him fixated on your chest. He uses both hands to grope them.

“You think I didn’t notice these from the stage?” He asks now looking at you, squeezing and releasing them before pulling your bra down, your breasts spilling out of the cups. He instantly latches his mouth onto a nipple, while the other hand digs in between the mattress and your back to unclasp the bra. His tongue swirled around the nub, teeth lightly grazing and sucking at the skin around it.

You run a hand through his hair, it was a little sweaty and you couldn’t blame him. It was getting hot; you could feel the heat radiating off of him. It became even more apparent after he got rid of his shirt and you feel his clammy skin on yours.

He pulls back, straddling your waist, most of his body weight falling on his knees, careful to not to crush you. Your hands cascaded down his chest and rested at his thighs. You gave them a shy squeeze, something you’ve always dreamed of doing and you were only slightly satisfied.

Bucky flashes you another smile before he braces one hand next to your head and leans back over to fish something off the nightstand. When he pulls his other hand back you notice he’s going through something on his phone. Curious, you look at his face trying to get another read at him, but this whole night was just full of surprises. He finally looks at you before speaking.

“Can I ask you something and you promise not to freak out?”

It depends.

“Yeah…” Who were you kidding? You’d gladly get on your knees for this man. He swooped in for another hard kiss, your mind turning into mush just before you could get anything else out.

“I think it’d be so hot if we recorded ourselves,” his face was so close to yours making sure that your focus was on his and only his. He must’ve felt you shift because he allowed more of his weight to drop; he was closing in on you and it was like you almost had no chance of escape. You weren’t going to lie. The way his weight was crushing you and sinking you deeper into the bed felt really nice. You were speechless. He wanted to record a sex tape with you.

“I travel so much,” he starts listing off reasons why while still cradling the side of your face again, your hand bracing his forearm, and starts kissing your face, “it gets really lonely being on the road.” At this point, he’s probably kissed every inch, “I’d love to have this...it’d be so much easier for me to come thinking about you.”

Motherfucker. His dreamy voice speaking those words into you did one hell of a number because you were aching down there plus the way his hips dragged at your still jean-clad lower region didn’t offer much relief.

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate for a bit. What if his phone got hacked and the footage leaked?

“It’s just for me, baby. I swear,” he asks with hopeful eyes.

Sure, you could’ve had the strength to say no, but you were more than willing to be everything he desired. With your consent, he sealed it with another wild kiss. The magnitude of it setting you ablaze.

Bucky sets his phone back on the nightstand, propping it upright, camera on front face mode to display the both of you on its screen, and at the perfect angle he hits the red record button.

It’s showtime.

He revisits the mission of removing your pants and is this time successful. If you both weren’t so faded, he’d probably have an easier time taking them off, but they were tight, and you were grateful he didn’t clumsily break your ankles in the process. Chucking them somewhere off to the side, with his fingers, he traces the top pattern of the matching red lace panties you had on.

He let out a faint chuckle commenting on how red is his favorite color. Oh, you knew. You precisely chose this set just in case you got lucky. He plants kisses to your hip bones, his lips evading the area that cried out for his attention the most, and slithered down the bed, so he had your calves now placed over his shoulders.

Bucky laid gentle pecks on them and came back up to start nipping at your inner thighs, most likely leaving his mark there also, until you felt the tip of his nose hit your center. Your panties were definitely a deeper shade of red at this point. He pushed your panties to the side enough to get started.

You feel the pads of his fingers begin to rub circular motions at your clit. The first wave causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You feel the smirk that formed on his face against your thigh at your body’s response.

“So sensitive,” he says pushing your hips back down to continue his task at hand, “and so wet,” he added while pulling his fingers away to examine your arousal that coated his long digits. You don’t take your eyes off him and you almost forget how to breathe when you watch his lips wrap around his fingers, noting his eyes closed and how his cheekbones become more prominent on an already perfect jawline as he sucked them off clean.

When Bucky opens his eyes, they’re darker than before, clouded with lust. He roughly yanked at your panties, still in his other hand, effectively tearing the overpriced garment. After giving it a few more tugs, it was long gone. Headfirst in between your legs, Bucky craved for more of you. He licked a broad strip, down up, to your clit. His tongue teased your folds before dipping inside you, the intrusion causing you to gasp. Your body withered around desperately searching for a path to release. Bucky kept at it, his nose nudging your clit with each plunge his tongue made.

Not denying you of a finish, he adds his fingers into the mix, curling them to find that spot. Noting that your eyes had closed sometime during the act, he stills, and you whine at the sudden halt. Your hand aimlessly reaches out to his face. When you find it, you open your eyes and pick your head up to find out why he had stopped. Bucky offers one of his hands for you to hold on to before speaking.

“Baby keep your eyes on me,” he orders, and his eyes don’t leave yours as his head lowers back down to your pulsing heat. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head from lolling back in ecstasy because you desperately wanted to come. Fuck, he was so talented.

The noises as a result of his onslaught were downright sinful. Bucky’s hips started to ground into the bed trying to relieve some friction of his own. His moans tremble across your entire body. There’s no warning when you come, and you don’t even give him a chance to escape your thighs that clamp around face. Not that Bucky minded, feeling you clench around his fingers as he drank in more of what your body had to offer. Bucky only then emerges when your legs fall limp against the bed.

He plops back down next to you, but as he does so, he pulls you on top of him. Your lips reattach themselves with his and the raw nature of tasting yourself on his lips drive you both mad. He hadn’t even wiped around his face, so you feel the wetness on his chin scrape across yours, staining you with your own arousal.

Your hands moved on their own from planting themselves on his firm chest then working their way down the ripples of his abs, through the trail of hair leading to the top of the waistband of his sweats. You tauntingly pulled the drawstring to loosen it before letting it go and instead grip him through the soft material. Bucky grumbled at your actions, but let you carry on.

You palmed him, getting a feel of how thick and long he was. Bucky was growing whiny with each passing move your hand made, he took matters into his own and grabbed your hand, shoving it into his pants. Your hand instinctively wraps around his hard cock and you give it a light squeeze and a few strokes, generating long drawn out moans to spew from Bucky’s mouth.

His cock felt even better with nothing separating you two. Bucky’s pants and boxers easily slide down his muscular legs, which spread apart to give you room. You maneuver south to lie on your stomach, still in between his legs, and grab his member that was curved resting at his stomach and bring it your face.

“Wait,” he says almost breathlessly. Your mouth is only inches away from the head already weeping profusely. He sits up to rest on his elbows and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. Oh.

“Okay, smile for me,” he directs, and you follow his lead before your tongue darts out at his slit and follow the ring around the tip of his cock. You pull back to savor his taste for a moment, your hands spreading the pre-cum around his shaft. Your strokes are then accompanied by the long licks you give at the sides and to his balls that your other hand had been playing with. Bucky’s head rests on his pillow so his other hand could rest on the back of your head and guide you down his length. Your mouth immediately started to water, but it made it easier for you to bob up and down. He let you move at your own pace for the most part. Bucky pushed your hair off to the side, away from your face to get a better view of the outline of his cock poking at the inside of your mouth. You let his cock drag across the inside of your cheeks a few times until it audibly popped out of your mouth.  

“Fuck me. I knew you’d be perfect.” His words mixed with his incessant moans were like honey pouring into your ears. He loved the way your eyes looked directly at him through the camera lens when you come up with a long tantalizing lick to the underside of his cock and crawling back up to straddle him.  

Bucky gets a good shot of your flushed face and breasts that had some of your drool combined with his pre-cum running down your body before dropping his phone beside him. He sits up causing you to fall back down at the other end of the bed. He picks out a condom from the nightstand and you watch as it rolls down the length of his cock. You bite your lip watching it twitch.

He’s on his knees, but sitting on the balls of his feet, you are lying down patiently waiting for him. He swipes his cock through the wetness of your pussy, prepping himself to slide in. He’s watching your reaction with each pass his dick makes. Your body is yearning for him to be inside of you, to hit that fucking spot over and over.

Just when you think he’s about to do it, he’s reaching over for that damn phone again. Out of habit, you cover your face with your hands. Not only showing the last shred of humility you had left, but also because you probably looked like a fucking bitch in heat.

Bucky pulls your hands away, he still has the phone in his hands, and he’s got it angled to playback from his point of view before he finally pushes into you. He’s big, much bigger than what you’ve experienced, you think you need a moment to adjust, but he never gives you that opportunity and you find that it doesn’t matter when he feels so good. Too good that you find it hard to breathe with each thrust he’s making because he’s hitting it so deep. You push your hands out in front of you to his lower abdomen and attempt to slow him down. Bucky shakes his head and knocks your hands out of the way.

You let out an abrupt yelp at his retaliation to your failed efforts in trying to stop him with a particularly harder and much forceful thrust. Instead, your hands grab fistfuls of the hotel bed’s white blankets and just let him have his way.

“So beautiful,” he says spreading you further then coming down on you to reclaim your lips with his. He rips your hands from their tight grips on the bed sheets to pin them down next to the sides of your head. You don’t care where his phone went, just happy to have both his hands on you. The skin-to-skin contact just hit different sometimes.

The kisses become so feral you start to feel a burn around your mouth from his stubble. Bucky rolls his hips into yours deliciously, a damn true artist, the rhythm he’s got going sends you just about over but never fully beyond the edge to prolong the climax.

Much to your dismay, Bucky withdraws away from you again, back into his previous position, a new idea popping into his wicked mind. With his hard cock still inside you, he slides his hands under your hips and hoists your lower half up towards him, resting your ass on his thighs, effectively bottoming out. You don’t hold back at the way that made you feel and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He holds still for a second and you’re not quite sure why. You try to move by wiggling your hips, but he holds you still.

He’s staring at how close your bodies are, connected, he moves just the slightest. It causes your pussy to contract and your stomach to tighten up. He does it again in different intervals, his eyes surveying the entire thing. The next push is a little harder and when you see the devious smile breakthrough his face, he does it even more. The thrusts are much sharper and almost painful, but it quickly subsides when you feel the head of his cock probe at the right spot.

Bucky lifts your hips up higher, your back arching in bridge fashion you weren’t aware you could even do until he resumes his new pattern of thrusts again. This new position aided his cock in hitting your sweet spot a little better. He’s filming you again and resting one of his palms on your stomach. He’s not only watching, but he’s feeling the bulge in your belly from the distension caused by the jabs of his cock.  

“That’s my girl,” he praised, continuing to pound into you, “you take this cock so well.” The sight boosts Bucky’s ego and for you it actually probably wasn’t a good thing, but you’d be damned the angle did so many wonders to you right now.

“You love watching your cock go deeper and deeper inside me, Bucky?” You ask trying to look up at him from that position. Where did that come from? Your words cause him to freeze momentarily, but you could still feel his cock throbbing inside of you. He liked that.

Another impish thought running through his head, Bucky pulls out, picking you up so you’re also knee-height with him, giving you another searing kiss, then he’s behind you. He gently pushes you down, you on your elbows, Bucky leans over behind you, his soaked cock sliding up your ass resting on the small of your back as he places his phone back on the nightstand in the same position it had been in the beginning.

You don’t dare look at the screen in front of you, so you look down until you feel Bucky enter your pussy once more from behind. Your head rises and it wasn’t due to the surging pleasure, but because Bucky uses your hair as a rope to bring your body upright with his.

He thrusts up into you while he mutters incoherent slurs and lewd noises into your ear. He peppers the side of your face with wet and uncalculated kisses, his hands massaging your breasts before one of them migrates down to cup your pussy. His fingers dip in and starts another assault to your clit. You’re already tethering off the edge and on the brink of succumbing to him, but he just knew when to let up and keep you starved for more.

“Look at you,” he says, using his other hand to turn your head to face the small screen, the numbers continuing to go up. “You’re such a fucking slut for my cock,” you don’t argue with him and instead moan his name. “You like watching yourself fuck this huge cock, don’t you?” You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore; watching the two of you was hot. Your uncontrollable moans now muffled into Bucky’s palm. And he just kept egging you on, “I know I do. It’s gonna remind me just how tight this fucking pussy is.” Damn him. 

“You want to come, baby?” He asks, the speed of his fingers picking up a notch.

You pull down Bucky’s hand to respond, “Mmm, yes. Fuck! Please let me come, Bucky,” you don’t know what has possessed you, but it spurs the both of you on even more. Your next words do it for Bucky, “I want to come all over your cock,” and he’s immediately coming and spilling into the condom, still inside you, you feel his release pump through him. He’s biting your shoulder, some of his weight coming down on you, his thrusts becoming erratic, but one did the trick for you and you finally let go.

And what drives Bucky even more wild, is that you don’t stop. You keep rolling your hips into him, riding it all the way out. Bucky’s trying to hold on, with a bruising grip on your waist, his forehead resting on your back; the aftershock of his release proving too much. Your release pours out freely, you feel some of it slide down the inside of your thighs mixed with sweat.

You sag against Bucky, each of your body weight balancing against the other. You feel him scatter lazy kisses up your back and pull your face towards him to press one against your lips, moaning in satisfaction. He slowly pulls out of you with a low groan, your body feeling numb when you fall forward to lie down on the bed. Bucky discards of the condom and shuts his phone off before settling next to you.

He pushes the hair out of your face, and you, facedown, peek an eye open. He has a more than content look on his face, you notice his eyes were back to their normal color. He allows some time to pass for you both to calm down. Sleep wants to overcome your body, but it doesn’t when Bucky’s touch puts you on notice again. He runs his hand up and down your back. He’s insatiable, but he didn’t anticipate your comeback in the end and put him in a daze. He could get addicted to you.    

“Is it weird if I fly you out to Brooklyn?” He said out of nowhere. Brooklyn was thousands of miles away from where you lived. He wanted to pay your way to see him again. It was such an outlandish request. You’re starting to regain a more balanced sense of perception and thought, and you ponder on this for a few seconds. “Never mind. You think it’s weird,” he says lifting the blanket over his head turning his back to you. You could tell he was just trying to be cute.

“Oh, come on! You caught me off guard. You can’t blame me!” You respond, but he doesn’t budge. You muster up enough strength to sit up to lean over the side of his body, resting your chin on the top of his shoulder, and try to grab at the blanket. You pull it over his head and see the lazy smile etched across his pretty face. All you do is return the smile and close your eyes, basking in the post-coital bliss.  

“Stay for the night,” came as his last request and turning to lie on his back, wrapping his arms around you.

You don’t think about your car, that’s still parked nearby or care if the parking rate is probably going up by the hour and start eating at your bank account. You don’t think about how pissed your friend would be when she wakes up in the morning and you’re still not back in time. You just think about how tomorrow he’d be far away. You scoot up to give him one more kiss before laying your head to rest on him and make the best out of the present. Happy that you went with your gut on this one.

A/N: This could flop. At first, it was easy to write, but then the ending tripped me up. & while I have your attention, please let me know, anonymously or not, if there’s an interest in a Chase Collins fic? Charles Blackwood smut, anyone? Anyway, I hope this delivered! Thanks for reading!

[spideyxchelle]

In the new world, after the dusting, there was no order. Anarchy was the law of the land and those left of the old regime—leaders and police and the few remaining agents of actual good—were left to combat the chaos. Michelle paid all of that no mind. She walked through the world as it burned around her with only one purpose. To save her friends. If the sky fell and the world stopped spinning and the universe crumbled, she would still force herself through all of the muck to try and bring back her friends.

As the two SHIELD agents devised a plan to save the world, Captain Marvel, or Carol as she often corrected Mary Jane, recounted how and why she had returned to Earth. Before the final hours, Nick Fury had sent out a distress signal. Beyond the distress signal, Nick left nothing. There were little to no SHIELD’s resources left and, admittedly, it was a daunting task to save the world outmanned, outgunned, and without a clear vision of how to tackle genocide.

After three days of attempting to put together how and why the dusting happened, Mary Jane could only see one thread that seemed significant enough to pull on. Wakanda. There had been a surge of energy so significant in the small African country just before the dusting and she was not a child. There was no such thing as coincidences.

Carol balked at Mary Jane’s suggestion. “You’re joking,” she said. “You want us to go to some third-world country during a worldwide tragedy?”

Mary Jane nodded, “Yes.”

“Why?” Carol countered.

She gnawed on her lip. She was not a Senior Agent. She had never been asked to lead a mission before, and now the fate of the world rested on her silly hunch. Mary Jane knew it sounded ridiculous, but she could not shake her intuition. “Because I know it matters.”

Carol raised her eyebrow, profoundly struck. “Okay,” she conceded. “To Wakanda.”

When they arrived at the border of the third-world country, soldiers paraded out of the trees with spears and swarmed the women before they even properly deplaned their aircraft. All of the sharp tips were pointed fiercely at the agents. Carol dropped her weapons immediately, but Mary Jane kept her finger on the trigger of the gun she swiftly drew from her leg harness. This new world was dangerous. She would not be caught without protection.

“Put down the gun,” an accented voice called from the line-up. “Or we will shoot.”

Carol raised her hands in surrender. “We understand. Right, Mary Jane?,” the older woman prodded.

Mary Jane grimaced. One of the Wakandian soldiers took a warning step forward, angling the unusual looking spear in her face. She did not miss the threat inherent in the action. “Put down the gun, I said,” the solider, a woman with a shaved head and steely eyes, repeated. Her voice was eerily calm. It was that tone, and that tone alone, that made Michelle lift her finger from the trigger. The woman gestured to the ground with the spear and Mary Jane huffed. She tossed the weapon on the grass.

The line of female soldiers all lifted their spears at once, retreating from the offensive. The woman that had addressed Mary Jane and Carol stepped forward, “Why have you come?”

Carol did not lower her hands. She spoke slowly and clearly, like her voice could be used as morose code. Mary Jane could almost hear the clicking message—“we are not the enemy”. Mary Jane almost smiled mirthlessly. “I’m Carol Danvers,” Carol introduced herself. “Nick Fury, the leader of the Avengers, called me to help. Before the dusting.”

The stoic solder’s eye twitched when Carol mentioned the dusting. She had lost someone, too. Everyone had. It killed without mercy and swept through the world. An entire planet of people. Gone.

“We have Avengers here,” she said. “In Wakanda.” The solider tersely barked orders in a language Mary Jane did not know. “I will take you to them.”

Carol tentatively lowered her hands, “Thank you.” The solider nodded stiffly. Carol, blessed and patient Carol, stepped forward. “Wait. What’s your name?”

The solider looked over her shoulder and curtly replied, “Okoye.”

Carol and Mary Jane were flown into the center of the Birnin Zana, the capital city, in handcuffs. The restraints were made of some odd, warped light that burned whenever Mary Jane tried to resist them. It was science like she had never seen before. Tony Stark had nothing on the innovations of Wakanda. There was a childlike part of Mary Jane that delighted in Wakanda. While the rest of the world was in tatters with looting and riots and disorder, Wakanda seemed to be the only corner of the world that was a sanctuary from the madness.

They arrived on a landing platform at the base of some great, hulking structure. Mary Jane craned her head back to absorb the scope of such an architectural feat. “It is remarkable, yes?” Okoye said.

Mary Jane dumbly nodded, “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Two soldiers nudged Mary Jane and Carol on two floating boards. They would not be allowed free roam of the city. The little hovercraft-like contraptions would guide them to their next destination.

Okoye walked two steps ahead of the floating plates. Together, they traveled up seemingly endless steps. It was miraculous. The art, the design, the attention-to-detail crafted in the bones of the building. It was almost dizzying enough to forget about the horrible state of the world. Almost.

The floating boards jerked to a stop when they arrived outside two imposing wooden double doors. One of the female soldiers in red yanked Mary Jane off of the plate. She staggered forward and sneered. Okoye raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Mary Jane’s actions. “You are a foreigner in our country during a time of great distress, a worldwide crisis. What did you expect? Hospitality?”  

“We have come in peace,” Michelle practically spat.

Okoye nodded at the two men guarding the door. “We shall see.” The double doors swung open with a creak that told years and years of history. This country was old. Their traditions were deep. And the doors were the gateway to something extraordinary.

There, sitting at the end of the open room, was a girl no older than Mary Jane. She was perched on edge of a throne that was swallowed her up in size and stature.

The tip of a spear nudged Mary Jane and Carol forward. Ever the diplomat, Captain Marvel ducked her head in respect, “Your majesty, thank you for meeting with us.”

“Okoye tells me you know Nick Fury?” The young royal asked.

Carol nodded, “I did. Yes.”

The girl leaned back in her throne, thoughtful and profoundly exhausted, “He has been dusted, too, then?”

Mary Jane said flatly, “Yes.”

The girl on the throne shifted her gaze to Mary Jane. There was a beat of curiosity that passed between the two teenagers. At the end of the world, in an asylum city, perhaps the last one on earth, the fate of the world was in the hands of two young black girls.

The girl effortfully lifted herself out of her throne and strolled across the room. Until the two teenagers were face to face. “Who are you?”

On auto-pilot, Michelle rattled off, “SHIELD operative Mary Jane Watson. And you?”

“Princess Shuri of Wakanda,” the princess answered with an bemused lilt to her voice. “And what,” Shuri continued, “is a SHIELD agent doing in Wakanda?”

Mary Jane paused. What was she doing here in Wakanda? There had been an energy surge before the dusting in this tiny not-so-third-world country. The operative side of her brain concluded that the best place to find answers was here. But that answer was not the heart of Shuri’s question. It was  not why she had come. “The dusting can be reversed. I know it.” Mary Jane spoke more softly, “Or I have to believe it. So, I’m here to save Spider-Man. And my friends. And the rest of the world.” Shuri did not respond. Mary Jane stood up to her full stature, “Is that good with you?”

The whole room tensed.

Then, Shuri slowly smiled, “How can I help?”

The tragedy all began to make infinitely more sense when Steve Rogers recounted the terror of Thanos. All of the sudden, the grainy video that Mary Jane had watched to death in the Parker apartment of Peter being whipped up into space had context. And she could have killed him, for getting wrapped up in intergalactic shenanigans, if he were not already gone. Her stupid, noble Peter had thrown himself head first into the end of the world, the end of the universe.  

Mary Jane could not fathom something as purely destructive as the infinity stones being allowed to exist. The universe was all cruel if it was the mother of chaos and greed and death. Goodness raged against the darkness and it still won the day. People like Steve Rogers, and Thor, and Peter had fought the evil. And they had lost.

She tried not to imagine Peter on some godforsaken planet pushing through exhaustion to fight with pure will and grit. And losing.

Mary Jane comforted herself with her hopes, even if each day they grew duller and dimmer.

The backbone of this hope lay with the princess of Wakanda. Shuri posited that if people could be unmade by the infinity stones, they could be remade by them, too. It was not a perfect plan. But it was the only one that they had.

Thor and Rocket were the only aliens that fought in the Battle of Wakanda who survived. It was not a perfect team, but they were the only two with enough knowledge about Earth and Thanos and the galaxy to lead what-was-left-of-the-Avengers into Space to find Thanos. Thor had said when the mighty purple alien had snapped his fingers, he had unmade the universe and disappeared, but he had not dusted. Which meant he was still alive. He was somewhere in the universe hiding from his mass murder.

They did not have a concrete plan. But they had the outline of a goal—to find Thanos, retrieve the Infinity Gauntlet and save all those that had died. And that would have to do.

“I think you should stay behind,” Carol said the night before the mission moved out.

Mary Jane, who was looking through her exhaustive files on Peter Parker, looked up in surprise. Her mouth dropped open slightly, “Excuse me?”

Carol fell into one of the open chairs and slicked back her blonde hair with a shaky hand. “I think you should stay behind,” she said again. Mary Jane tried to interject, but Carol lifted her hand to silence her. The subordinate agent fell quiet. “You’re underage. Stark never should have let your boyfriend go on that first mission.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“And furthermore,” Carol ignored Mary Jane’s interruption. “You’re too close to this.”

Mary Jane protested, “No closer than Thor or Captain America or Hawkeye. Please, Carol. I need to be on that ship tomorrow.”

“Captain America and Thor and Hawkeye are adults. And there isn’t going to be one person on this mission that hasn’t lost someone. The snap touched the whole universe. But you are too close to this, Mary Jane. How many nights have you spent going through his file since we got here?” Mary Jane looked down. “Exactly.” Carol sighed, “I’d bring you in a heartbeat, if I thought you could handle it, but we can’t afford to bring liabilities.”

“I’m an agent,” Mary Jane said.

Carol shook her head, “You’re a child. Nick never should have recruited you this young. It was irresponsible.”

“Carol—”

“Mary Jane, please,” Carol pulled herself out of her chair. “For once, do as you’re told.”

She was tasked to do as she was told.

So, the next day the aircraft lifted off the ground with the end of the world crew aboard. 

With one notable stowaway.

[wonderswritings]

Heroes Age 2/?

To be added to my taglist, go to @capstags To follow just my stories, go to @capslibrary

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Tony Stark x Reader Characters: The original Avengers, Elaina Rivers (OC), Lewis Wrangler (OC) Summary: 100 years into the future, times have changed. There’s no more heroes to protect the world, it’s not needed. Until now. There’s a new threat, and there’s only one way to stop it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Previously: “The avengers are dead, the commander IS dead. We have nothing to help us.” I shook my head, pulling the tablet out. “Look at this. The commander’s never died. She’s lived for centuries, why would she all of a sudden die during the age of heroes if she’s never died? She’s taken a reign of bullets, been bombed, drowned in the ocean, experimented on, had her heart ripped out, and she’s just dead? I don’t believe it, and that woman back there, knows something about her. Now, are you going to help me out as my friend, or do I need to order you to?” Lewis glared at me, and I could tell he was mulling it over before he sighed. “Alright fine. But we don this the smart way. We ARE not half-assing this. So, what’s the plan?”

100 Years Ago: “Where are they? Someone tell me where they are right now! I will not ask again!” They turned, taking a step back when they did. They had just finished fighting, albeit there were losses, they had won nonetheless and they would be unprepared to fight one of their own. The few who had ever survived an attack from her of any magnitude, were dead.  “I asked you once, and out of courtesy for the job and the fight we have just endured, I shall ask where they are again.” Logan stepped forward, his claws retracting as he lifted his hands in a surrender manner. “We’re all tired little spitfire. How about we just take a breather, all of us, and collect our bearings?” She took a step forward, her hands glowing violet as her eyes turned a dangerous shade of violet.  “Where are they Logan?” He shook his head, dropping his arms to his sides. “I don’t know little spitfire. I don’t know.” She dropped her head a little, her hands moving around her as though she was readying for an attack.  “I know where they are. I can take you to them.” Her head snapped up, and she growled, the flames circling her hands flickering for a second. “Take me to them, now!” Freya nodded, and she turned, walking towards the group of remaining heroes. She stopped, turning to face the commander her head cocked to the side, a small sad smile on her face. “Are you coming or not?” The commander huffed, the flames around her hands disappearing with each step she took. As she passed Logan, he lifted his hand and placed it on her shoulder, squeezing it as a sign of comfort, before he too followed behind her. The group of heroes parted as Freya led them to the end of the cliff, the remains of the battle seen for miles. The commander stepped forward, and she looked up at the sky, her hands flickering down beside her as she lifted herself off the ground, flying into the air. She landed in the midst of the damage. She walked around the place until she stopped, just standing there, not even her hair moving with the wind. Logan tried to go down, but Freya grabbed wrist. He growled, looking up at her with anger in his eyes. He calmed when he saw her shake her head, unshed tears threatening to fall. “She wanted to find them and now she has. The only problem is that this is not how she wished to find them.” “What are you talking about?” The rest of the heroes had joined them on the cliff, standing behind them as they looked out at the wreckage. She fell to her knees, a violet wave of power being released from her she fell to the ground, her screams deafening.  “The Avengers, they’re dead.”

Marvel Tags: @sfreeborn  @hista-girl  @supernaturaldean67  @textbookbabe  @iwanttomeetnewpeople  @kurlyafro  @killsandchills  @andiyholly  @lucywinchester67  @wowza-2  @badsongwinchester @patzammit  @capsofwinchesters  @smoothdogsgirl  @fir3flies-light-up-my-sky  @andiyholly  

[fuckinsteverogers]

K.I.S.S.I.N.G. Chapter 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Unrequited love, annoyance, confusion, pining, a really long intro.

Prompt: “Is the star crooked or is it straight?” “What? Oh, sorry, I was staring at your ass.”

Synopsis: You’ve been pining after Steve Rogers, your mentor and the one person who makes you feel safe, but when you catch him staring at Natasha’s ass, Bucky decides to make him jealous for you.

Author’s Note: This is for Sam’s Rockin Around the Christmas Tree Writing Challenge. I realised that this was due on the 20th, but not knowing where LovelyNemesis is from, the 20th might have already gone, but here it is. I took a different spin on it, and it is incredibly long so I’m sorry. I’ve split it up into two parts because it’s like 8k all together. I hope you like it!

Christmas wasn’t your favourite time of year, not by a mile. Christmas had always been the loneliest holiday of the year where you’d watch all the families buy their children presents and decorate the house with lights, everything merry and bright, but you’d never had an affinity for happiness.

So, when Tony Stark, the self-proclaimed billionaire, playboy, philanthropist found you in the middle of a bar fight in Valencia and had been amazed when he watched you pull your fist back and with hardly any effort send a two-hundred-pound man flying across the run-down bar. The rest of the men had gone for you, but it took you under a minute to shove all of them hard enough to knock them out cold.

You’d wiped your hands on your apron and jumped back over the bar, going back to your job as a bartender; a hard living in a hard city. You’d served beers and shots until Tony Stark stood up from his seat in the secluded corner of the bar and approached you, handed you his business card and given you the proposition; to fight for the world as an Avenger. You’d torn the business card up in his face and told him to get out of your bar, but Tony being the stubborn man he is, wouldn’t take a no for an answer.

He placed a hundred-dollar bill for his tab down on the bar, along with another stark white business card and left, before you have a chance to send him a message again. You’d looked down at the card, at the deep, dark writing and slipped it into your pocket, telling yourself it was because you didn’t want to litter and that you’d never call him.

You’d been alone your entire life, the moment your parents found out you could lift the car with your bare hands, or that time your brother had dropped a knife onto your foot and it bounces straight off, they sent you away, scared of what you were… what you are.

It seemed so trivial now, to think about the loneliness and abandonment of being sent to that orphanage and how lonely it was to escape and build yourself a life in one of the world’s most dangerous cities. Fighting your way through drunken brawls to release the anger of your abandonment, but the moment you’d dialled his number on a payphone, the moment he answered, suddenly you didn’t feel so lonely.

He had torn you from your dangerous life and given you a home, a purpose, a family. He’d given you a life to be proud of and not what that made you ashamed to look in the mirror, one that made you believe the words your parents had said to you, the ones your brother had hissed at you.

The press conference had been the hardest, to announce the new Avenger. You’d been adamant about having your identity out there, to make sure your family knew you were better than those words, those empty insults, and you wanted to make sure they knew that you were a good person with no thanks to them.

Tony had held your hand behind the podium, assuring you that everything was going to be okay and that no matter what, he’d be there along with the team… with you. You’d squeezed his hand and continued answering the press’s questions about your involvement in the team, what you brought to the team, you had so many answers swirling around in your head, so many things you wanted to say, but your mouth had opened and spewed out the words before you could stop it.

“What I bring to the team isn’t my strength, because everyone in the team is already strong; mentally and physically, but what I bring to the team isn’t necessarily about the team, it’s about the world. I bring hope, a chance to write some wrongs and show the world that the Avengers are to be trusted beyond what the media may tell you and what you may see out in the field. Humans or humanoids alike, we make mistakes, but given the chance, we can right them. All we need is hope.”

The media had started throwing more questions at me, but Tony had torn his hand out of mine and held it up, halting the reporters and finishing the hour-long press conference. You were exhausted, of fighting for your life and only yours, you wanted to be someone, to look in the mirror and see a hero.

The Avengers were wary people, untrusting as most of them had the same family life as you, meaning none. They’d been betrayed by everyone who they loved and were not welcoming immediately. The first time anyone asked if you wanted to join them for a games night was after the first mission, one with Captain, Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and you.

There had been a missile, flying straight for Captain’s position. He was too focused on the Hydra Agents in front of him, he’d been bashing a guy’s head in when you noticed it flying, the air whistling around the fast-approaching bomb, and you’d done what anyone else with an indestructible body had done; you’d thrown yourself at it.

Captain had screamed your name as you’d grabbed the missile and pushed up from the ground and sent it back up into the air, the missile flying straight over Captain’s head and sending both you and the missile into the lake. The explosion sends you flying, up and out from the water and back onto land. Your back hit the gravel, your body sliding up the path until you hit the side of a building, stopping the momentum, and causing you to sit up.

Captain came running around the corner, discarding his shield on the floor beside you and assessing you for damage, his hands running along your arms and legs, atop the leather of the suit. He took your head in his hands, turning it to each side to look for anything. You just watched his worried face with tentative eyes, admiring the beauty of America’s golden boy.

“You’re fine,” He had said, letting go of your head and sitting back on his heels. You nodded, smiling up at him. “You could have died.”

“I knew I wouldn’t, but I would have done it even if I could,” You told him truthfully, pride swelling in your chest as he smiles. Taking your hand in his and helping you up from the gravel, he grabs his shield again and before you both go back to the fight, he looks at you.

“Thank you, Agent Y/N,” and with that, he’s taking off running towards the Hydra agents that have crowded around Natasha, and you do the same; the good fight needing to be fought.

The knock on your door had come the moment you buttoned your pants up over your hips and as you opened it, the smiling face of your Captain struck you. You invited him in and he gushed, thanking you for saving his life and for having his back. You smiled, proud to be a part of this team, to have saved the life of Captain America. He extended an invitation to the team’s bi-weekly game night, tonight was charades, and he wanted you on his team.

You’d been so happy, so incredibly happy to be apart of something that you’d hugged him, full on wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him as tight as you could without breaking some bones. He’d laughed, deep in his chest, the sound that was the physical representation of honey, smooth and sickly. He’d returned the hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and he didn’t seem to mind standing there for the two minutes and twenty-seven seconds of the hugs duration.

You had a family, a real one. You’d known that the moment you’d tried to act out Gun’s N Roses for Steve and he’d flopped down on the couch in frustration.

“How am I meant to act this out to him when he was frozen?” You yell in exasperation. Everyone had laughed as Steve covered his face with his hands and surrendered the game to Natasha’s team.

“What was it?” Steve asked, sitting up, obviously not hearing Natasha yell it out, winning the points.

“Guns N Roses,” You’d told him, and he’d groaned, throwing his hands up.

“I know them. Paradise City and Welcome to the Jungle,” Steve had laughed. You all but tackled him throwing the card at him as he laughed. “You’re just not very good at this game.”

“I am fantastic at this game. You’re the lousy guesser,” You had shot at him, flopping down next to him, letting Clint go up and begin his part. He’d looked down at you with those bright blue eyes, and as Clint began his actions, clapping his hands and dancing around the living area, all the Avengers screaming out their guesses, you are watching him doing some sort of dance.

“Salsa dancing,” You yell out above all the voices saying incredibly random stuff, watching his feet move in a way yours have before.

Clint stops, pointing at you. You grin as Steve throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, the Avengers laugh, and Steve grins.

“Who would have known that the only way Steve would win game night is with help from Y/N!” Tony chimes in, grinning from his seat next to Thor.

“I’ve won before,” Steve protests and the room begins to fill with a lot of, ‘no, you haven’t.’ Steve grins down at you again and you know from that moment that the Avengers are your family and from there, there is no going back.

When your first Christmas with the Avengers rolled around, nine months after Tony Stark found you, the Avengers are divided into teams. A common thing around the compound is games, everything is made to be fun. Mostly by Natasha and Clint who have claimed themselves Santa and Mrs Clause for the season and are the bringers of fun.

As we all stand in the common area, awaiting our assignments, with Clint rattling a bunch of paper slips with the different jobs on them in a top hat, looking absolutely ridiculous in his Santa costume. Slowly, everyone gets their assignments, from lights to hanging up the tinsel and banners, to the Christmas tree, to setting up the table with decorations, to baking cookies and sweets, to going out and buying Christmas movies, to putting up the solar lights around the training ground, essentially turning the entirety of the compound into a massive Christmas tree.

You pick yours and open the slip, looking down at the cursive writing on the little piece of paper. It reads, ‘Christmas Tree’ and not knowing who your partner for this time consuming, incredibly dangerous mission, you simply make a move to go and get a can of Coke out of the fridge and look around the room as people pair up and go to do their jobs.

As everyone begins to slowly leave the common area, you notice Steve, sitting alone on the couch, probably waiting for his partner. Assuming that it meant that you were his, you stand and move towards him.

“Christmas tree duty?” You ask, sitting down beside him as he stares straight ahead. He turns and looks at you, a smile overtaking his face. Hope filled your chest, alone time with Steve is always your favourite, harbouring a major crush on the Captain and his beautiful soul.

“No, actually. I’m on lights and banners. Natasha went to go fetch all of it and I’m just waiting.” You huff out the breath of hope, attempting to maintain the smile on your face for his sake. “I think Bucky said he was on Christmas tree duty and he went to go get it from storage with Natasha.”

“Right,” Is all you say, disappointed that you don’t get to spend alone time with Steve. You’d been trying to gauge his reaction to you, his feelings, you’d always been pretty good at telling if someone liked you, but Steve wasn’t as much of an open book as everyone seemed to think.

You both sit in silence before the elevator dings and all you hear is laughter and dragging sounds, before Bucky and Natasha enter the common area, Bucky with a massive box and Natasha with smaller but overflowing box, lights and wires dangling out of the sides.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” You say, looking at Bucky as he dumps the box and comes up behind the couch.

“Not a bad person to be stuck with,” Bucky grins, winking at you. You laugh nervously and look at Steve who is tensing beside you. You pat his shoulder to remedy the situation and stand, moving towards the absolutely gigantic box that clearly holds all the decorations for the Christmas tree you and Bucky have to go retrieve. “You ready to head off?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” You say, looking over at Steve who is still looking at Bucky. For the first time in ten or so minutes, the smile leaves your face saddened by Steve’s clear adversity to you. He is kind and welcoming, a good friend, but friends was never an option for you. The moment your eyes had laid on Steve, you knew you were gone, thrown into a whirlwind of emotions too strong to be managed. He had smiled and shook your hand, the touch of his calloused skin sending you into a frenzy. It was uncommon for you to fall so hard for someone so quickly, or more often even at all.

In every country you’d resided in, men had thrown themselves at you, you know you’re beautiful, it’s a fact, but you know that it isn’t enough for Steve; the righteous soldier. You wanted to be strong and capable, to be kind and compassionate, to be a good friend and an even better teammate, but Steve still didn’t blink differently at you, maintaining his superiority in missions and his platonic friendliness in everyday life. It was exhausting, lying awake at night wishing he’d be running his hands over your skin instead of you.

The smell of pine was overwhelming a mile out from the Tree Farm. The moment the smell hit, Bucky began smiling. You knew why, the melancholy of the scent to the happier times, with his family and Steve in Brooklyn, but you don’t feel the nostalgia because you hadn’t celebrated Christmas since you were four, hardly remembering the smell of the cooking or the wrapping paper, not remembering what you got for Christmas or how it felt. It was so long ago now, so long that it seemed like a lifetime.

“Maybe this one,” You asked, running your fingers through the massive pine tree, the needles scattering through your fingers. Bucky stopped beside you, looking up at the tree, his eyes a little darker than Steve’s, no green like his. The same, but different.

“Maybe, but we should exhaust all options,” He replies, moving to continue through the farm. You laugh, walking to catch up with him.

“You sound like you’re on a mission, Sarge,” You joke, bumping your shoulder against his covered metal one. “Any bad guys to take out?”

“Stop being a smartass,” Is all he says, giving you the evil eye, but you know he doesn’t mean it because he’s grinning, trudging through the fresh snow on the ground and looking around for the perfect pine tree. Bucky hums as you both stop in front of a tree maybe ten feet tall and beautiful, full of life and Christmas spirit, whatever that is.

“Sold,” You say, looking up at the super soldier, his eyes cast down to you as a smile stretches over his lips.

You take note of the number of the tree and both of you trudge through the snow to find a salesperson, in silence. Bucky looks down at you as you turn the corner in the maze of trees, you look back up at him, lifting an eyebrow in regard to the wearying stare.

“Are you going to tell him?” Bucky asks, you halt your walking and look at the soldier who stops and turns to you. You don’t say anything because it’s an unnerving question that sends a shock of uneasiness through you. “To Steve.”

You huffed out a breath, crossing your heavily coated arms over your chest, refusing to give into his questioning.

“Doll, everyone except him sees how you look at him. It’s pretty darn obvious,” Bucky admits. Throwing your head back and groaning at Bucky’s words, knowing now why everyone tried to leave you and Steve alone, tempting you to make a move, but the moment Steve would shuffle awkwardly and dismiss himself, you’d find yourself frowning at his retreating figure and wish he’d like you back.

“Can we just buy the tree and stop talking?” You groan, moving just as a Sales attendant comes out of the maze and begins walking directly to them.

“Don’t like hearing the truth, doll?” Bucky smirks, tilting his head slightly at you, attempting to intimidate you, but it doesn’t work. You’re an Avenger, after all, intimidation is your game.

“No. The truth is fine. It’s your voice that I don’t like hearing,” You shoot back, smirking over at him as the sales attendant gets closer. You notice as Bucky places his flesh hand over his heart in mock horror and slyly slips his metal hand into his jacket pocket, hiding his ailment from the young girl.

“Can I help ya’ll?” She asks, a southern accent slipping from her lips. You smile sweetly and nod, looking quickly at Bucky who is still smirking… The bastard.

You tell the young girl the tree number and hand over the credit card, platinum and definitely not yours. Ownership of Stark Industries, it reads in gold writing on it. Tony supplied them to everyone, for whatever you needed, not including sports cars and Rolexes… Apparently, Sam learnt the hard way. Though you think that a Christmas tree counts as a need.

Bucky and you strap the tree to the top of the SUV and head back to the compound, ready to begin the fun part; decorating. When you pull in, opting to drive, Natasha is up on a ladder right at the front of the compound, putting lights up on the fences, the place already looking more festive. Steve is standing below her, his head tilted up towards her body and is holding the pile of lights.

You begin to brake into the garage and as you pass your teammates, you notice where his eyes are directed. You feel the heat lift to your face and attempt to focus on parking the car instead of the man you so desperately want to be with staring at the ass of Natasha Romanoff; the sexy, beautiful, alluring assassin.

“Was he…?” Bucky asks, trailing off as you sit in the car for a moment, not moving, trying to regain your breathing.

“Yep,” You reply, passively. Retracting the keys from the car and shoving the heavy door open, Bucky follows and you both haul the heavy tree into the compound and you try to forget about how his attention on a woman you can’t compete with made you feel like curling up into a foetal position and shovelling cookie dough into your mouth.

“Don’t let it upset you, doll. He’s crazy about you,” Bucky tells you as you stand back and admire the tall, gorgeous pine now on a tree stand and looking bare without the baubles. You move your attention to Bucky, looking up at the towering soldier, furrowing your brows and shaking your head aggressively in response.

“Don’t be stupid,” You shut him down, shaking your head again before beginning the decorating process. “Can you go get a ladder?”

You don’t turn around to see if he goes but you don’t hear him go, the years of being an assassin has made him incredibly light on his feet. You bend to take a bauble out of the box and as you straighten, the hot breath raining down on your neck makes you yelp.

“Natasha has a nice ass, but yours is better, doll,” Bucky murmurs, making you shudder uncomfortably. Quick and sharp using his flesh hand, Bucky slaps your ass, causing you to thrust your hips away from him. “Steve knows it. Never shuts up about it.”

“Go get the ladder,” You hiss in reply, turning to give him a pointed stare. Bucky just smirks triumphantly, the heat rises to your skin again as he turns and trudges down the hallway, swaying his hips in mocking.

Huffing your way through the decorations, one bauble after another, tinsel, then lights. Twenty minutes later, when the elevator dings and laughter reach your ears; you stand back, admiring the beauty of the bottom half of the tree, the part you could reach.

“His pants were all the way across the restaurant…” Natasha says to the two men as she enters the common area. Stopping as I turn and look at them, pointed stare at Bucky who is clutching a ladder, looking at me with wide blue eyes.

“Good job, doll, but you missed half the tree.” Steve looks pointedly at you then Bucky, as your eyes narrow and you cross your arms over your breasts, clearly annoyed. You huff and turn your back to him, looking at the massive pine and the beautiful decorations. “Doll?”

You see him set the ladder down and move towards you, moving tentatively. He knows you’re ticked off and tackling you like he normally would was not an ideal option.

“I needed the ladder. I asked you to go get it. You went and got it. Now can we finish this thing, so I can go to bed?” You hiss at him, loud enough for him to hear, but not so loud that Steve and Natasha can hear the conversation.

“He wasn’t looking at her ass. He was looking at her feet,” Bucky whispers back. You jerk to look at him, narrowing your eyes further.

“You think he would admit it? Have you met him?” You reply, lowly. You flicker your eyes to the movement as Steve looks from Bucky to you and back again, his face scrunched up. You furrow your eyebrows him concern before redirecting your attention to the problem at hand. “Can we just finish the tree please?”

Bucky motions at the ladder and without looking at Steve, you move it and climb, and when you reach the ideal position, you look down at Bucky.

“Decorations, please,” Wiggling your fingers at him. He begins to place baubles and ornaments into your hand, watching from below as you begin to assemble the tree. You choose to not look further than Bucky, refusing to let the thought of Steve liking Natasha, or even just lusting after her ruin your first time at Christmas celebrations.

Slowly, the tree comes together. The lights are the second to last to go up and then it’s the star, a beautiful Crystal star probably costing more than every item you own, but it put the tree together beautifully.

Placing it on the branch, you lean as far back on the ladder as you can manage without sending your body flying backwards into the winter soldier. Admiring your handwork for the hundredth time, you notice the star looks a bit crooked. Adjusting it slightly, you still can’t shake the thought that it looks funny.

“Bucky?” You try to get his attention, not bothering to look down at him. “Is the star crooked or is it straight?”

You wait for a moment, expecting him to answer the question, but because he seems to have decided that the question is beyond him, you yell his name again.

“What?” Bucky says finally, confusion soaking his voice. “Oh, sorry, I was staring at your ass.”

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You exclaim, disgusted, looking down at the super soldier who is now grinning a megawatt smile and looking triumphant. You want to move down the ladder and send a kick into his smug face.

Steve suddenly stands from where he was sitting alone on the couch, reading some magazine Wanda had discarded on the coffee table and walks out of the common area. You catch a slight glance of his clenched jaw and bawled fists before he disappears behind the walls.

“Told you he is crazy about you,” Bucky says smugly. That’s it… You climb down from the ladder and slapping him so hard on the back of the head that his head snaps forward.

“Get involved in my love life again and I’ll show you in the worst of ways how strong I am,” You tell him, glaring. You clench your fist and wrap your hand around it, sliding it up and down. Humour mixing with you wanting to shove something up his ass.

“You going to show me soon, doll? Because I’m intrigued,” Bucky grins down at you. You fight the want to slap him again and instead go after Steve, who clearly needs some reassurance.

You build yourself up for the whole speech in the elevator, talking yourself into declaring your undying love for the man who more often than not wore clothes too small for him, who is kind and compassionate, who is always thinking of everyone else before himself, who would die for his team, for the goofy man who loves Scrabble, and karaoke, who is such a talented artist, and makes your heart go a mile a minute.

Permanent Tags

yoursupernatural   |   niallandsebastianaremylife

Tags for series

lovelynemesis

[avengeher]

Brave Little One. (Rogers/Reader)

Summary: You couldn’t imagine believing in anyone more than you believed in Steve Rogers. You had followed him into the battle of New York; and you had followed him further into bringing down Hydra-Shield; furthermore, you had fought Ultron and won, and you knew whatever it was- he’d do the same for you. Along the way, you had fallen madly in love with him, and he with you. So when the accords were laid in front of you in black and white, videos of what you’d all done in defense of the people, you knew the decision would be an easy one. Til he looked up at you with bright blue eyes, defiance swimming in them and your heart broke.

Or, the one where Captain America refuses to sign the accords and the ink of your signature was practically already drying on the page.

Pairing: Steve/Reader (female pronouns)

A/N: Hi there, so this is going to be my attempt at a multi part story and I kind of liked the idea of lovers torn (the reader and Steve are already in a relationship from the start). The first few parts will be the whirlwind that was the first part of cap3, up til they get arrested and then from there you will start to get backstory on Steve and her, how she was found and joined the avengers, plus angst and swearing because I am apparently part sailor lol but thanks for reading and hope you enjoy lovelies

Disclaimer; i own nothing but the reader’s basic personality and Marvel if y'all want that, you can have it lol

“You have to take responsibility for your actions.” Ross had demanded, showing the havoc the lot of you had wreaked all over the world. “While some see you as heroes, a great many see you as vigilantes.”

You had felt smaller than an ant as he stared you down, eyes beaming directly into yours when he pulled up a video of what you’d done in Sokovia. You had the ability to manipulate the elements, and the gust of wind you’d used to take out a hoard of Iron Legion bots also leveled a whole - empty - block. You had sunk in your chair, eyes darting to Steve’s as he reached out to take your hand with a sorry gaze.

“That’s enough.” Steve had commanded, the clip of Wanda accidentally sending Rumlow through an office building playing behind him. “Cut it off, you made your point Ross.” Then the accords had been introduced, landing in front of you on the table with a resounding bang.

‘Approved by 117 countries’ is all you could hear. 117. 117 countries saw you all as a liability, as borderline a problem. 117 countries wanted you to take responsibility for what you’d done. Where did that leave all of you then? You didn’t want to be owned by government officials, with agendas and problems that didn’t fit your job description. That’s why you signed up for the Avengers in the first place, so you wouldn’t be some lab rat. Steve’s hand tightened in yours, your eyes meeting his as he gave you and encouraging smile before glancing over at Tony.

“The UN meets in Vienna three says from now, talk it over.”

-

You had read through the gist of the accords, double and triple checking for loopholes or any kind of mistreatment of you all as humans and so far you couldn’t find any. Sam and Rhodey had been getting into it all afternoon, something about medals and criminals but you weren't really paying attention as you switched between watching Steve read the accords and Tony sitting despondently - he seemed utterly concentrated.

“I have an equation.” Vision started, earning groans from Sam but you were willing to hear the android man out. And you were glad you did because he made far too much sense. Strength had always bred challenge, Steve’s immediate defensiveness sitting heavily on your chest. You had never felt so disconnected from him then in that moment. You couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, didn’t know what that stone cold expression on his face meant but you knew Steve, knew he’d make the right choice and you’d probably follow right along with it.

“Tony, you’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.” Natasha pointed out what you’d all already noticed. Tony shifted and it was like a cold breeze through the room.

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind.” Steve’s jaw tightened, hand crumpling the papers a bit as Tony stood. Your eyes went wide, mind catching up to your eyes and relaying the message of understanding. That wasn’t despondent posture you’d noticed. It wasn’t concentration, it was acceptance and the relaxation in his choice.

“Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” Tony deflected. He tapped his phone against the wireless photo display, letting a photo of a young boy none of you recognized pop up on the screen. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul... before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.” You looked away from the photo with tears stuck in your throat. You had been the one to level most of Sokovia. “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” What was Steve doing? Did he just not hear what Stark said? Responsibility needed to be taken for what you’d all done.

“Who said we're giving up?”

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames.” You were this close to arguing him when Rhodey cut you off.

“I’m sorry. Steve. That... That is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

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

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

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” Why was Steve fighting this so much? He had a good point but was he fighting being under supervision or afraid of another Hydra-Shield situation?

“If we don’t so this now,” You finally broke in, “Do you think it’ll be done to us?” Tony nodded. They’d force your hand.

“You're saying they'll come for me, and you.” She placed her hand on your arm, accepting your pained smile with one of her own. She’d been your best friend through all this - minus Steve, of course. But she understood you in a way no one else could.

“We would protect you, both of you.” Vision explained. But they couldn’t dedicate their lives to protecting yours when there was a whole world out there.

You had never felt so confused in your life with both sides of the coin having equally valid opinions. You had to take responsibility, that was the agreed upon consensus but how? By letting others help decide so it was less likely for there to be so much collateral or was it truly just shifting blame around so it didn’t rest on all of you? Or was it arrogant like Rhodey said to think you could make decisions that involved innocent lives when aliens and sentient AI robots were involved?

“Perhaps Tony’s right.” All of your heads went on a swivel to Natasha. What? “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer but if we take it off, then nothing.” The way Sam’s neck elongated, hands folding over his chest as he leaned closer would have been comical in any other situation but you could feel an impending fight and for once, looking in Steve’s eyes didn’t calm you in the slightest because you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry, aren’t you the woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam exclaimed. “Then released all the Shield files?”

“I’m just reading the terrain.” She explained, rolling her eyes when Tony held up his hand. He was grinning like the cheshire cat.

“Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I mishear you or did you agree with me?”

“I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed - I win.” Steve’s phone chiming interrupted the small moment of comedy, the look on his face telling you that no one would be winning today.

“i have to go.” You stood with him, following him as he practically flew down the stairs. He stopped halfway, only to turn and drag you into his arms as tears welled in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Peggy.” he didn’t have to say more. You simply let the moment be, forgetting about the accords and how you didn’t know where you stood let alone where he would. You just held the man you loved, while he cried for the woman he never truly got to.

-

Sharon Carter was a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes to match. She held herself with a poise you’d seen in old photos of Peggy, but more than that, she held herself with a confidence you wished you could possess. So much confidence that when she started to speak, for the first time that day, you truly listened.

“Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of SHIELD... but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy. She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related. I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move... it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say " No, you move.””

It was in that one minute long speech, that one paragraph of profound thinking and intense truth that you made your decision. You don’t know if it was the fact that Peggy Carter, the woman who stood up stronger then she fell, said it or if it was because you’d known all along and just needed a little shove in the right direction. Whatever it was, you finally felt settled for the first time since seeing the accords.

Then you looked over at Steve and it was like someone took your heart in their hands, crushing it with all their might. It was such a strong feeling, such deep emotion that you felt yourself tear up because bright blue was already looking back at you. The resilience in his eyes, the downright stubbornness of a man who was about to be the cause of an absolute shit show, made you question your own resolve enough that you don’t think he realized the truth yet. Not like you had, because you knew it’d break his heart.

He wasn’t going to sign those papers, but you had to.