#yslbuckyxwritingchallenge

[lancsnerd]

Celebrations

Summary - Thor and his daughter are celebrating the reader’s birthday. (This is unapologetically tooth-rottingly sweet fluff with domestic Dad!Thor)

Pairing - Thor x f!reader

Words - 3.1k

Warnings - Mild suggestion of sexy times, plenty of toddlers and domestic fluff

A/N - This is the same family as in my other Dad!Thor fic Lightning Strikes Twice. It was written for yslbuckyx‘s writing challenge, based on the prompt “Hang on. Where did the baby go?”

*****

“This is an important task and there is very little time left, we cannot afford to forget anything.” Thor packed the last of the essential supplies in a backpack and threw it over his shoulder. Turning to face his teammate for the mission ahead, his expression was stern. “Very well, I think that’s everything. Shall we go?”

His gaze was met by blue eyes that matched his own, looking quizzically up at him. “Dada?”

Instantly his face lit up and he scooped up the eager toddler from her high chair, bringing her close to press a soft kiss to her nose as pudgy hands grabbed at his beard. Dada had been Freja’s first word, much to his delight, and his heart swelled with pride each time he heard it. “That’s right, my clever girl! You and I have to run some errands. It’s your mother’s birthday and we have to collect the food and cake ready for tonight. Oh, and flowers - plenty of beautiful flowers for your beautiful mother.”

Although the concept of errands was lost on her, Freja clearly liked the idea of going somewhere. Tiny fingers grasped his hair determinedly, her toes scrambling for purchase on his chest and digging into his ribs in her attempt to clamber onto his shoulder.

“Ow! You are getting so strong, little one.” Smiling affectionately, he gently tickled her arms to loosen her grip and distract her. This new game was also greeted with enthusiasm and she increased her efforts to get higher, wiggling and giggling in his grasp. In no time, soft tickles had become loud raspberries blown on her tummy and the urgent tasks had been all but forgotten, and would have been replaced with playtime altogether if Thor hadn’t caught sight of the clock on the wall.

Sighing, he gave her one last wet kiss on the cheek and lifted her up to his shoulder. “Sorry, princess, we need to go. You can use me as a climbing frame later.”

Holding her close so her arms could wrap round his neck, he glanced at the stroller and dismissed the idea out of hand - it was unnecessarily slow and cumbersome, and the handles were far too low for him to push easily. Plus she always preferred to be high up to see everything that was going on, not stuck in a chair near the ground. Carrying his daughter like this would be much easier and considerably more fun.

He grabbed Mjolnir out of habit as he passed, but paused in the doorway to reconsider. There would be several packages to carry on the return journey and although weight was clearly not an issue it would be better to have a free hand. Not to mention the trouble he had gotten into when you last caught him flying around whilst holding the baby.

Just the memory of it made him shudder. One look at your terrified expression as he’d landed next to you had almost made him turn tail and run - he would happily stand up to the most terrifying of enemies but it was a brave man indeed who wanted to face you when your maternal instincts were in full force. His protests that it was perfectly safe, that he would never let any harm come to such a precious cargo had done little to convince you, and even after you had been placated there had been a distinct frostiness in your attitude towards him for the rest of the day. No, definitely not worth the risk of upsetting you, not on such a special day as this. Especially when your last act before you left this morning was to give him a lingering kiss, sweet and slow and teasing, that gave him the distinct hope of a most pleasurable evening.

He bounced Freja on his shoulder, enjoying her gleeful laughter. “What do you say, princess? Why don’t you and I go for a walk?” Taking her happy noises as a yes, he placed Mjolnir down and strode out in the direction of the store.

*****

After all these months, he should have known by now it took far longer than expected to perform even the simplest of tasks when he had a toddler with him. Being a father was the most precious gift and he adored her utterly, but even the most devoted parent had to admit that taking small children shopping was slow going. Admittedly it wasn’t always her fault that they got delayed, he could never resist buying his lovely girl a new toy or a treat, but today that had been the least of the issues.

Firstly there had been a sudden wail of “Bobo ... Bobo” when Freja realised that her favourite toy had been left at home. As they were already halfway to the store he had debated whether to simply keep going and hope that she forgot but the fat tears running down her cheeks and the quivering lip had quickly convinced him otherwise, and there had been a swift trip back to find her beloved monkey.

Secondly he’d foolishly taken a shortcut through the park to catch up some lost time, forgetting that it meant passing the duck pond AND the swings.

But as usual, most of the delay was due to a problem that he and Freja had little control over - the sheer number of complete strangers who wanted to talk, take selfies or, most often, tried to come on to him. He was used to being the centre of female attention wherever he went, but it was still surprising how much more irresistible he seemed to be when carrying a baby. As a new father, he had optimistically assumed that women would flirt less when he had the baby with him, only to find out that the act of carrying a small child mysteriously made him even more attractive. Surely it’s obvious that I am spoken for, he had grumbled to you one night, why do they still try to win my affections? Suppressing a smile at his innocent confusion, you had agreed that it was most perplexing.

In any case, all the delays and unwanted conversations meant that there was barely an hour left before you returned home and there was still much for him to do. At least he’d had the foresight to take plenty of toddler-friendly snacks and a bottle of milk in the rucksack. The combination of a full tummy and an exciting trip to the store and the park had been more than enough to wear out a ten month old, and Freja had been asleep for the journey back, head lolling against his chest as he cuddled her tightly to him.

Once home, he’d dropped his parcels carefully and settled her in the cot for a proper nap, making sure to place Bobo nearby. He’d intended to make the most of the free time whilst she slept but even so he couldn’t help but linger for a few minutes stroking her soft blonde curls, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she lay so peacefully before reluctantly tearing himself away. Hurrying to the kitchen, he glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath as he bustled about placing flowers in water, putting essential items into the refrigerator and hunting for birthday candles.

Luckily there were no other delays and the rest of the jobs were complete by the time he heard Freja stirring. She was already sitting up, rubbing sleepy eyes and babbling quietly to herself as he entered the nursery. Seeing him, her face split into a beaming smile, arms instantly reaching out in his direction.

Knowing what she wanted, Thor grabbed her under her arms and swung her around and up over his head as though she was flying, being mindful of the ceiling height (he wasn’t going to make that mistake again).

“Up you come, little one. Did you enjoy your sleep?” He listened to her chatter in response, nodding in agreement at the unintelligible sounds as though it made perfect sense. “Oh really? That’s wonderful. Yes, we have had some adventures today.”

After a couple more swoops in the air he carried her over to the comfy chair and settled her on it, avoiding her attempts to climb back into his arms. “No, Freja, no more flying for now. First we have to get you changed into something clean. We want to look our best for your mother, don’t we?”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced by this suggestion, deciding that wriggling like an unco-operative octopus was way more fun than getting dressed. There were more than a few moments where Thor almost gave up on the whole damned idea, but eventually he managed to wrangle her into a pretty pinafore dress and still had just enough time to clean himself up before he heard your key in the door.

“Hey, I’m back. Where is everyone?” you called out, setting down your bags by the door and kicking off your shoes with a sigh of relief. Spending the afternoon shopping had been wonderful, a chance to catch up with friends and treat yourself to some new clothes that suited your post-pregnancy body. Although you were happy with your more-rounded figure (and Thor was extremely appreciative of your softer curves) it meant that less of your old wardrobe now fit properly so this day out had been just what you needed. It had been tiring though and right now you were eager to see your two favourite people in the whole world.

“Welcome home, my love.”

Turning in the direction of his voice, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Thor coming down the stairs with the little girl in his arms. Oh my, yes, you could definitely understand the appeal of a huge, gorgeous man carrying a cute baby. “C’mere and give me a hug, I’ve missed you both so much.”

They were more than happy to oblige, Freja snuggling contentedly in your embrace as strong arms enveloped you both and pulled you closer for a quick kiss.

“So, did our birthday girl have a good time?”

“It was great, we had lunch at the new wine bar on Broad Street - you know, the one near the bakery? Then we hit the mall. Managed to get a couple of new outfits and a super cute top for Freja.” You looked up through your lashes at him, giving a cheeky smile. “I bought a present for you too - something for me to wear tonight that I think you will enjoy.”

The lascivious grin that spread across his face made it clear that he most definitely approved of this idea and he immediately suggested you went to get changed whilst he finished making dinner.

Twenty minutes later, you were all set and hurried back downstairs, mouth watering at the delicious smells that were wafting through the house. Alerted by the sound of your footsteps, Thor appeared in the kitchen doorway to greet you and stopped dead in his tracks. You were wearing a well-loved red dress, one that you’d worn when the two of you first started dating, and he adored seeing you in it. The cut showed off your curves perfectly - it was a little snugger on the hips than before motherhood and there was considerably more cleavage on display, but he would be the last to complain about either of those things.

“Gods, you are more stunning than ever.” His eyes swept over your body hungrily as he approached. “This dress has always been my favourite, I’m so glad you chose to wear it instead of the new clothing you bought.”

“Oh, I was always going to wear this dress tonight.” Seeing his brow furrow in confusion, you leant forward and pulled your neckline lower to give him a tantalising flash of soft skin and black lace. “The stuff I bought today is underneath.”

Thor’s mind flashed back to the shopping bags you’d brought home, suddenly recalling one from your favourite lingerie shop. Licking his lower lip in anticipation, he slid his hand down your thigh, pulling at the fabric of your dress to lift the hem and see what awaited him but you swatted his hand away.

“Nope, that’s all you’re getting for now. You can have a proper viewing later when the baby’s asleep.”

“I shall try to control myself until then.” Taking your hand in his, he raised it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Would you care to accompany me to dinner, my lady?”

He led you into the kitchen, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight that awaited you. Normally mealtimes were a casual hurried affair, occasionally turned into a food fight if Freja decided something wasn’t to her liking. Not tonight though. The table was set with a crisp white cotton tablecloth, the fancy china that usually only made an appearance at Christmas time, and a vase in the centre filled with a large bouquet of your favourite flowers. Floating above it all was a huge heart-shaped balloon with the words ‘Happy Birthday Mummy’ on it, bobbing gently as Freja tugged on the ribbon tied to the back of her highchair.

It was simple and perfect, and your eyes brimmed with contented tears as Thor pulled out a chair and invited you to sit. There had been suggestions of a party to celebrate but there was nowhere you would rather be than here at home with your little family.

*****

After indulging in way too much pasta and birthday cake, you were snuggled up contentedly on the couch, his arms draped protectively around you. At the other side of the room a very sleepy Freja was tucked under a blanket in her bouncy recliner, facing the window as an electrical storm of Thor's creation lit up the sky. Thunder and lightning had fascinated her since she was a few months old and they were far better than any lullaby or bedtime story at calming her. The local news had recently noted the unexpected increase in the number of storms in the area though, much to your amusement, so Thor had agreed to rein himself in. But today was a special occasion and he felt perfectly justified in showing off a little.

Lying in his arms talking about the day you’d both had, you were slightly tipsy from too much wine and very, very happy. “Tonight has been amazing. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble though.”

“It’s your birthday, love, you deserve to be spoilt a little. And Freja helped me to get everything ready.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“No, not at all. But it was still more fun having her with me,” he admitted with a grin, fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh as he recounted the afternoon’s events.

“Well I’m impressed you had the energy to cook after that. You’ve definitely earned some more wine.” You stretched over towards the half-full bottle and glasses on the coffee table but didn’t get far, squeaking in surprise as large hands grasped your hips firmly and lifted you onto his lap.

“The only thing I need right now is to see what sinful things you’re wearing under that dress.” His lips left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck before nibbling and licking at the hollow of your throat, gently at first and then harder with each sigh of pleasure you gave. One hand remained caressing your butt whilst his other fingers slid up your back to find the zipper. “Actually what I need is to tear it all off you so I can explore every inch of your glorious body but FIRST I want to see what this new lingerie looks like.”

“Oh yes.” Your fingers were already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, equally keen to get your hands on bare flesh. Before you’d managed to get it half undone though, common sense hit the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t clouded by lust and you reluctantly pushed him away. “No, wait ... we can’t do this now.”

He pulled you closer again, grinding his very obvious erection against you. “Trust me, love, I am more than ready to do this now.”

“Me too, but Freja’s napping right over there. And she’ll wake up screaming for a feed any minute.”

“Damn, I forgot.” He let go of you, groaning in frustration. Cockblocked by parental responsibilities. “I’ll go sort out a bottle for her.”

“Let me do it, I’ve hardly seen her all day. Give me twenty minutes to put her to bed, and then you can put me to bed.” After a final longing kiss, you climbed off his lap, avoiding the grabby hands that kept trying to squeeze your backside, and headed over to pick up your daughter. To your surprise though, her little recliner chair was empty and there was no obvious sign of her nearby. “Hang on. Where did the baby go?”

Your eyes scanned the floor in confusion. Although she could crawl and pull herself up to standing, there weren’t many places she could reach and with the door closed there was no way she could have left the room, yet there was no sign of her anywhere. As Thor joined you in this unexpected game of hide and seek your ears caught the faintest giggle from behind the curtain and you darted over to draw it back. There she was, standing with her nose pressed to the window pane, eyes fixed on the storm raging outside.

With a sigh of relief, you knelt down on one side of her, Thor on the other. “We thought you were asleep, little lady. How did you get all the way over here?”

At that moment there was a particularly loud crash of thunder and she squealed with delight, banging her little hand on the glass as she turned to look at him. “Dada!”

“That’s right, I made the thunder just for you.”

She turned towards him, wobbling on unsteady legs but before you could catch her she took her first step, and then a second, before collapsing into the waiting arms of her shocked and very proud father.

“Our clever girl! When did you learn to do that?” He looked down at her in wonderment, then back at you with a huge smile on his face. “Did you see that?”

Throwing your arms around them both, you kissed the top of her head fondly. “Definitely the best birthday ever.”

[atsixesandcevans]

All Too Well

Summary: A collection of memories from your time with Steve, and the reality you now find yourself in.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/N: This was written for @yslbuckyx 1k celebration writing challenge, and my prompt was the song All Too Well by Taylor Swift. I had a lot of fun writing this, and although the song is quite angsty, I've tried to make the end of this slightly less so, as well as taking a few creative liberties to make the song work. It's technically also a modern-day au, but its not really mentioned, it just made it easier to make the song work. This also happens to be the first fic I've completed in 2 years, and my first fic for the mcu, so please be gentle, and I hope you enjoy! <3

Read on AO3

You cursed under your breath as you rifled through the storage boxes stashed under the bed, the ones filled with your winter wear, searching for your old scarf – worn and tattered but still your favourite – that you could’ve sworn you had put in there.

It was September, and the temperature had suddenly dropped, the world saying farewell to the long, hot summer, and you found yourself thrust into the chilled winds of autumn.

As you pulled out the last box, you heard a thud come from under the bed, and you ducked your head down to see what it was – a photo album. It sat, lost and forgotten, hidden from view, the memories too painful to look at, and too beautiful to get rid of. Distant sadness flooded through you as you realised what it was; the album you had filled with pictures of your time with Steve.

You reached under, grasping the solid cover, pulling it towards you. Your scarf forgotten, you perched on the end of your bed and started to flick through the pages, memories surging forward at the sight of every one.

The first picture was of you and Steve together, almost two years ago, right at the start of your relationship. You were huddled together, bundled up against the cold, snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes and the hair that wasn’t covered by your beanie. Wrapped around your neck was your old scarf, the one you had been looking for, the same one Steve had used to pull you closer to him so that he could press warm kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your nose. Your faces were bright, happy, the unbridled joy of the very first snow of winter.

In the picture, Steve had his arm around your shoulders, sharing the body heat he knew you needed, and he was looking down at you with the softest look on his face while you looked at the camera – though you couldn’t remember who was taking the photo.

Next to it was another, taken moments after the first, almost the same as the first, except in that one Steve had his lips pressed firmly against your cheek, the cold tip of his nose nudging the side of your eye.

Prospect Park had been beautiful that day, the light dusting of snow making the trees and grass look like something from a Christmas card. Families and couples had gathered all over the park, each with cold-brightened faces. Steve had taken you back to his apartment from the park, refusing to even entertain the idea of you walking all the way back to your place on the other side of town, even with him pressed tightly against your side.

It had been cold when you walked in, though Steve had immediately turned the heating on and gave you one of his sweaters to wear while he made cocoa. It was cold, sure, but you couldn’t help but think it felt so homely; pictures and trinkets placed on the empty surfaces, books lining the shelves, an easel set up in the corner by the window, some drawings and paintings pinned to the wall in an almost haphazard collage of both colour and monochrome.

You remembered, now, how you had left your scarf there that day. After spending the rest of the day cuddled with Steve, you had forgotten about plans you had made it the evening, and so left in a rush, your scarf forgotten on the coat rack by the door. You reasoned you’d take it home another time, but each time it remained forgotten until the warmer weather rolled in and you didn’t need it.

On the next page, there were three photos; one of the view from a hilltop, oranges and yellows and browns creating an autumnal sea as far as the eye could see, one of you in boots and a sweater, leg raised mid-kick through a pile of leaves, hair brushed back by the chill autumn wind, and finally one of Steve, crouched in front of a golden retriever, Charlie, face screwed up in a grin as his new companion gave him endless energetic kisses.

You’d come across Charlie on his walk during a trip you and Steve had taken upstate. On a rare day where you were both free, Steve decided the two of you would go on an adventure, so you took the car and lunch and just drove, not caring where you were going or if you got lost, only that you were together, full of that feeling that wasn’t quite love, but could be one day.

In a rare moment of distraction, Steve almost ran a red light because he couldn’t stop looking at you, the joy on your face as you sang along to whatever pop was on the radio. Steve didn’t care for the music, but it didn’t matter; the pure happiness on your face was all he cared about, and he found himself wanting to make sure you stayed that happy for the rest of your life.

And you were happy, then. Even now you could remember how right it all felt, how things were finally, finally falling into place.

The next page held just one photo – an old image, two young boys stood close together, wearing kid’s baseball uniforms, arms flung over shoulders and wide grins on their faces. One of the boys – Steve – was skinny, his uniform hanging off of his body. His dirty blond hair fell into his eyes, which were framed by black circular glasses. The tip of his nose was shiny and red, despite being in the height of summer, a sure sign of the hay fever he was no doubt suffering from at the time.

Bucky, in contrast, was taller, more filled out, and looked very much at home in the uniform, holding a baseball bat up against his shoulder.

It still baffled you how much Steve had changed physically since then. Obviously, he’d had one hell of a growth spurt, and now stood a little taller than Bucky, while he once only came up to his best friend’s shoulders. He was still the same at heart, though, from what Bucky had told you that day; soft, caring, but not afraid to fight for what was right. Always willing to stand up for the little guy, the one who couldn’t stand up for himself, just like Steve had been all those years ago.

Steve had taken you to Bucky’s apartment, a few months into your relationship, and the three of you had sat around the kitchen counter, box of photographs scattered across the surface, while Bucky told story after story from his and Steve’s childhood. Steve’s cheeks tinted pink as Bucky recalled the time he had thrown up after riding the Cyclone at Coney Island, and how the only real reason he got onto the Tee-ball team in the first place was out of sheer persistence as opposed to actual athletic talent. He really couldn’t play very well, but the coach had taken pity on him and let him on the team, placing him in a deep-fielding position so as to keep him as far from the action as possible (though it didn’t stop Steve from getting bruise after bruise from flying balls).

He told stories about how he had to come to rescue Steve on countless occasions when he got on the wrong side of one or other of the big kids that hung around the neighbourhood. How Steve’s mom would roll her eyes and fuss over him when he came home with yet another bruise or graze, yet how she never once told him to stop standing up for others, only to “be more careful,” quietly proud of her only son’s heart of gold.

It was the first time you had seen Steve truly embarrassed. While they had taught you about Steve’s past, you wondered, now, if they, like you, had thought that you were his future. Judging by Steve’s embarrassment, you had assumed he didn’t involve a whole lot of people in his past, and it broke your heart to think that he might think it was a mistake to let you in.

You’d stolen the picture. Or rather, it was given to you, by Bucky, while Steve was in the bathroom. He’d slid it across the counter with a wink, pressing one finger to his lips with a sly smirk which you had returned. You had never told Steve you had it, instead you’d tucked it away as soon as you had returned home, though you had been oh so tempted to frame it and hang it pride of place in your living room to serve as a reminder of the way your Steve had always been, kind-hearted and true.

That feeling was gone. Now, all the picture reminded you of was an easier time, and the promise of a future that couldn’t be.

A single tear hit the page and you took a deep breath, shutting the album abruptly. The memories were good, but you couldn’t help the way your heart ached just a little at what you had lost.

It had all changed so quickly between you and Steve, and you couldn’t place exactly what it was that had changed. Maybe the communication between you broke down, and Steve had become less open with his feelings, bottling things up like he had done when you had first met. Maybe the blame was yours; perhaps you had begun to ask too much of him, desperate for him to share his life with you. Or, maybe what you had was a masterpiece, a beautiful watercolour of bright oranges and pinks, until it was torn up by secrets and heartache.

Soon, it all became too much. Steve would cancel on plans with last-minute phone calls which almost always ended in an argument that was only ever partly resolved, neither of you wanting to be apart for long. During those arguments, you both became cruel, spouting hurtful things that neither of you really meant to say, but knew were at least partly true. You’d both attributed it to merely being honest with each other, but each time you both ended up feeling like crumpled pieces of paper, laying used and abandoned on the cold ground. Until it became too much, and you’d both finally waved white flags of surrender.

Time flew when you were together. There never seemed to be enough time, and you found yourselves spending as much time together as possible, neither wanting to say goodbye. Perhaps that’s where your relationship broke down; you both fell for each other so hard and so fast, perhaps neither of you stopped to think about whether you were even ready to commit fully to each other.

Now, though, time seemed to drag. You often felt paralysed by it, going through the motions each day with no real goal. You’d changed in the year since your relationship with Steve, you knew you had. The heartbreak had torn you apart, made you more closed off, submitting yourself to an altogether lonely existence.

You were still trying to find your old self again, the person you were – loving, open, optimistic to a fault, the very things that Steve claimed to have fallen in love with – before you dated Steve. Before the days he’d wear his plaid shirts because you’d told him they made him look like a sexy lumberjack, and mornings you’d wear nothing but that after a night full of nothing but love and passion and the promise of forever, forever, forever.

The finality of it all had hit you when you received a box of your belongings from Steve. You hated that you felt hurt by the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to give them to you in person. It had been shoved to the back of the closet as soon as you had opened it, the memories attached to the things inside too raw and painful for your aching heart. The rain poured that day, and where Steve once would have taken you home, insisting that he didn’t want you to catch a cold, you now trudged home alone, rain soaking your feet despite the umbrella clung tightly in your fist.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had kept your old scarf, had it stashed away in his drawer ever since that first week when you left it at his place. He takes it out sometimes, to remember a time when he was so full of light and hope, to remind him of your innocence and optimistic view of the world. It still somehow smelled like you, though the scent was fading, and he refused to wash it, clinging desperately to that last sliver of a better time, before he lost what he now realised what the only real thing he had ever known, the only time he had felt so truly, wholly in love.

Love like that was rare, magical, and although it had hurt when it ended, and still did sometimes, you were both grateful to have even experienced it at all.

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well.

[buckyownsmyheart]

Worth Fighting For [one-shot]

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 5.6k (I can’t help it I’m sorry)

Summary: As a new recruit trying to pass the enrolment tests, you need to prove to everyone that you deserve to be a part of the team. To do this, you push yourself to your limits, and get some help from an onlooker.

Warnings: A bit angsty, swearing as per, I was feeling some emotions when writing this

A/N: This is for @yslbuckyx ‘s writing challenge! Congrats on 1k! My prompt was “I’m sorry, I got a little too carried away” 

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

You ran purely on spite. You were tired of people telling you that you couldn’t, so you did. You joined S.H.I.E.L.D. 4 weeks ago, to spite your father who said you couldn’t, and had just passed the tactical and mental challenges. These had always been your strengths, learning and memorising new information was something that you enjoyed doing. It sounds nerdy, but frankly you had gotten over being called that since way back in high school. People were always going to talk, so you might as well do what the fuck you want, and for you, that was absorbing knowledge. Since high school, you had learnt Spanish, Japanese, Russian and were in the process of learning Cantonese. Your ability to pick up new things had meant that you were finishing top 5 after 4 weeks in the selection process. At the beginning, there were 60 new recruits, but by the end of the next 4 weeks there would be 10. It was a brutal process, on the first day they lined everyone up and split them in half, and then sent half home, saying that they don’t recruit unlucky people. From those 30, 10 would be removed after the intellect test, and 10 after the next step, the physical test, which was the part that you were most worried about.

 You had never been strong or particularly sporty. You often ran, enjoying the hours of solitude that it gave you, allowing your brain to sort through anything that it might be pondering or struggling with. There was nothing like the feeling of fresh air on your face, or the relief when you stop, and your calves relax and stretch out. But this wasn’t going to get you through the push-ups or sit-ups or whatever else they made you do, so you had to be smart about this if you wanted to make it through to the final 10. You had started trying to build up your strength, but so far you felt you hadn’t made any progress and it was infuriating, but your time was up, and you were absolutely shitting yourself.

 For the next 5 months, you would be put through hell. Testing your physical strength, your resilience and your adaptability to environments. For each month that passed, the 2 people at the bottom of the rankings would be sent home, and you weren’t sure you could face your father if you were sent home, you knew what he would say. “I told you so sweetheart, you’re just not cut out for that sort of thing, why don’t you try something a little more for you? A little more gentle.” You were going to make it through these challenges.

The 20 recruits stood in two lines of ten, some were turning to their neighbour and chatting, but you didn’t feel much like small talk, so you hid yourself in the backrow at the end, trying to avert all attention away from you. Maybe if they thought you were no one from the beginning, and let them have low expectations, then you might be able to surpass those expectations with what little strength you have. Everyone snapped to attention when Captain America and Black Widow walked into the large space you were all standing in, eyeing each and every one of you. You tried to stand tall and not shy away from their gaze, knowing that this was probably just a scare tactic, trying to spot the weak ones straight away. Luckily, from years of practice at school, you had become adept at blending in and becoming invisible, not too proud, not too shy, somewhere in the middle.

 “Recruits,” Captain America addressed the lines, “Today we’re going to start with some basic fighting, I’m sure you’ve all got some experience, so we’re going to pair you up and test your skills, let’s start with a warm-up.” Shit. You had close to no fighting experience, unless you count that one time in your debate class where a boy named Jimmy had tried to hit you, so you kneed him in the balls. That was when you were 12. Why hadn’t you thought about this. You assumed that they would teach you all the basics once you got in, and that this was just to gauge your fitness levels, not to put you up against each other and judge from that. You turned to the girl next to you, her beady eyes located a little too close together on her rather square-looking head. Her biceps looked like they could strangle you by giving you a glance. You looked wildly around but saw that everyone else had already paired off. You gave her a small smile, and Cap started the warm-up. Luckily, at this point there was no actual fighting, and you actually just seemed to be warming up your muscles. You copied your partner’s every move and looked around the room to see how other people were doing it. There were practice punches being thrown, body twists to focus on technique and some more cardiovascular exercises to get your heartrate up. You were glad about your runs, because although sweat was running down your forehead, your breathing was still pretty steady.

 “Alright everyone,” Black Widow’s voice carried across the room, causing instant silence. “We’re pairing you off against each other, this is a no-rule fighting situation. Nothing dirty, but all styles welcome. You two, up first.”

 You realised she was gesturing to you and your terrifying partner, there was no way you were escaping out of this alive. Your legs seemed to move of their own accord, jumping up onto the mat and dropping into a fighting position.

You gulped, took a large breath in and released it, trying to calm your heart thumping in your chest. It might give the opposition a confidence boost to see your chest shaking with how hard your heart was beating, and you couldn’t be giving them any more advantages than they already had. The two of you padded around each other, your fists were raised in a protective stance, and your opponent looked like she was ready to pounce at any moment, and then she did. You dodged the first attack, jumping around her arm and bouncing on your feet. After a few more circles of each other, she lunged again, her fist narrowly missing your torso, but as you were on the back foot, she delivered a kick to your knee, which immediately brought you down to the mat. You leaped back up, bouncing on your aching knee to try and get the pain to go away, and ran over to the other side of the mat.

 “Stop dancing!” A voice shouted from the side, and you shook some hair out of your face to try and focus. People around you were murmuring.

 “There’s no way she can do this.”

 “Look how weak she is!”

 “Hasn’t thrown a single punch.”

 Anger bubbled up inside you, this wasn’t your fault. It was unfair. But you wanted to show them that you could do this. Prove them wrong. And so, you dove back into the fight, trying to put as much weight behind your punches as possible and tightening your core. You got a few hits in, but your opponent was too quick and too strong. She blocked your hits after the initial surprise and fought back. Hard. A volley of punches hit you all over and kept coming as you stumbled back. They merged into one as the floor beneath you spun, and your vision became blurry. When the punching stopped, you realised you were on the floor. Everything hurt, your vision was still cloudy and there were still leers behind you. Determined, you got up, and raised your fists once more, trying to get the world to stop spinning. You focused on the woman in front of you and willed your legs to move. On shaky legs, you moved forward, before a hand was on your chest. You looked up to see Black Widow looking down on you.

 “Alright, show’s over. That’s enough for today. 0530, tomorrow, sharp.” As people left the room, you were still trying to make your legs obey you. You couldn’t appear any weaker in front of the one person you needed to impress, but her hand was still on your chest, holding you back. “Are you in the right place? Do you even want to be here?” Her voice was harsh and scathing, and it felt like a ton of bricks on your chest. Of course she didn’t believe in you either, you had made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. You’d be surprised if they allowed you to stay to the end of the month, maybe you should have stuck with an intelligence desk job. But that voice in your head that doubted you also reminded you of all the other people that doubted you, and you’d be damned if you let them win. You raised yourself up and looked her dead in the eye.

“This is where I’m meant to be, and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be in the top 5 by the end of the selection.”

Her voice softened, “You’ve got fire in your belly. Use it.” And with that, she left you, where you remained alone, wondering what you had just gotten yourself into.

 ⁎⁎⁎

Bucky was sitting down on the sofa, watching an episode of Brooklyn 99, his new favourite show, when Nat came in and slumped down beside him.

 “You know, for a world-class assassin, you have very little finesse.”

 “Says the guy who tripped over the very flat floor yesterday.” She sighed, “There’s a new recruit, she’s weak and can’t fight for shit. I don’t know if she’s ever fought before, but she’s so determined, and it breaks my heart that she won’t make it to the end of the week, because she’s exactly the type of person we want here. Someone with defiance and will do anything to break the odds, but the stupid recruitment team don’t think traits like that are valuable. They want meatheads, the intelligence tests they have to do are just making sure they can do high-school maths, and still half of them fail. Apparently, she was top after that, knows something like 3 languages, but they’re already trying to kick her out and move her to intelligence.”

“Wouldn’t intelligence be better suited for her if she can’t fight?” Bucky replied, looking up at Nat confused.

 “But we need strategists, leaders, not people that will follow every word we say, because we’re not going to be around for ever, and if the next generation only follow our orders, who’s will they follow next? She’s different, she thinks for herself, but Fury’s already on my ass about picking favourites, so I’m just going to have to let her go.”

 Bucky nodded, not sure what else to say, and they both watched the rest of the episode in silence. He did think about the new recruit though, he wondered who they must be to have made such an impression on Natasha, she wasn’t often one to care about people she didn’t know, but by the next morning, all was forgotten as Bucky headed down to the gym.

⁎⁎⁎

After visiting the medical bay, 5 stitches and lots of codeine later, you collapsed onto your bed. You had each been given a dorm along a single corridor, with shared bathrooms at either end. Now you had expectations to live up to and a top 5 to be in, you needed a better plan. One that was going to get you there, but first, you needed to learn how to throw a punch. Tonight, YouTube was going to be your best friend. You watched videos of fighting styles, how to perfect your technique, how to maximise your strength, how to read your opponent. There were tips and tricks on everything from making people make mistakes to building up muscle quickly (naturally of course, you didn’t think anabolic steroids were the answer here). By the time you had gone through these, standing up to practice and do slow run throughs of the moves, it was past midnight. You set your alarm for 4:00, if you were going to do this, it was best to start how you mean to go on.

Your alarm blared as you sat up, feeling like you had only had a few minutes of sleep. You rubbed the tiredness out of your eyes and threw on your gym kit. Before your brain could wake up and tell you what a terrible idea this was, you found yourself in the gym, starting the warm-up that the Cap had shown you all yesterday, and then building on it from the things you had learnt. For an hour you practiced, sweated, and improved. By the time the rest of the recruits had got down, you had had a shower and changed into some fresh gear, ready for the day. The day of training continued, and you found yourself doing exercises, punching bags and using a range of the different fighting techniques. The assessors moved around, taking notes and judging styles.

The days continued like this, but the end of the first week was rapidly approaching, and there was no way that you were not in the bottom two. Although you had improved massively, everyone else had such a big head start, that you were still being beaten in every fight you were put in. You struggled to meet Romanoff’s eye. It had become rapidly known if they called her Black Widow she would kick them out of the programme immediately. On the Sunday, you trudged down to the gym before the others, and saw that the list had already been published. Your heart stopped beating, and then thudded against your chest. Trying to breathe evenly, you looked at the list of names and the rankings. You were 18th. Somehow, you had made it through to the next week. Two names at the end that you didn’t recognise, but then again, you hadn’t really bonded with the rest of the recruits, were in red. Disbelief filled you, how could you still be in? Was the tiredness finally kicking in, and you had reduced your brain to hallucinating? Shaking your head, you looked at the words again, but you were definitely not being kicked out. You were sure others would be sad about losing two members, but you were glad they were gone because it wasn’t you. That’s the thing about running on spite, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for love in your head. You went over to the punching bag and started your routine. What you didn’t know, was that someone had accidentally stumbled onto your morning escapades and was impressed.

 Bucky looked onto the new recruit, smiling. He had first seen her the morning after their initiation into the compound, where he had gone down to the gym early to try and burn off a nightmare, to find someone already there. This must have been the recruit that Nat had been talking about, the one that had had her ass handed to her, but still found the strength to challenge Nat. He knew that although she would never admit it, Nat saw herself in that recruit, and wanted to get her through this process. As Nat was in charge of the selection process, she couldn’t pick favourites and help only them. Bucky, however, wasn’t related to the selection process at all, and so he did as much as he could to help you get through. That week, it was just telling Nat that you had been down here, sweating every morning, watching videos and trying to get your technique up. She had visually seen the improvements and had decided to keep you on. Bucky knew though, that this next week was more fight orientated, and that you needed more than the internet to get you through it. So, he took a deep breath, and approached you for the first time in a week.

 “You want to engage your core a little more, try not to throw your shoulders into the punch so much, rotate your entire body.” Okay, Bucky, you could have started with something a little less harsh, the whole getting people to like you thing Sam was talking about.

“I’m sorry, you are?” There was a hardness to your voice, but your face was soft and open. Seeing you up close, he could appreciate the finer details of your face and the subtle movements of the muscles as different emotions intertwined themselves within your features.

“Sorry, Bucky Barnes,” he stuck his hand out to shake, which you hesitantly took after removing a glove, “I want to help you get through to the next round.”

 “Why?” You asked, still looking unsure at Bucky’s face, and then around as if you were looking for other people around him.

 “Let’s say I’m helping a friend out. I’ve seen you here before everyone, and staying after they’ve all left, and I’m impressed. If you want my help, I’m happy to give it to you.”

 You narrowed your eyes at him, and Bucky thought you might turn down his offer, “Isn’t that cheating?”

 He couldn’t help himself but laugh a little, “Darl, this is life, there’s no cheating, only people who find ways to cope and people who don’t.”

 You didn’t respond, and Bucky could see the conflict in your brain as cogs turned. You considered him, and then shrugged, “Okay, engage my core, what else?”

And that was that, your training together started.

⁎⁎⁎

You were beyond sceptical of Bucky and his help. He coached you for an hour, and all the pointers made sense, but you couldn’t help but feel something was off. Why was he being so nice? His excuse didn’t really make any sense, and you didn’t trust someone without motive, because people always had motive and if you didn’t know it, then it’s most likely to be against you. Until you could figure him out, you decided to take all the advice you could get and try and stay in a little longer.

 When you came back from your shower after parting with Bucky, the group of other recruits had gathered early to see the list. There was an uproar and shouting, people mouthing off the system, and you. “She cheated, there’s no way she’s still in.”

“They need to take likeability into these tests.”

 “Diane and Charlie shouldn’t have been the ones to leave.”

 “I saw her with the Winter Soldier just now, trust her to sleep her way to the top.”

 With the last one, you froze, your blood turning cold. This explained Bucky’s motivations, he was not only trying to get you kicked out, but he was going to make your so-called teammates hate you along the way. Maybe he thought if he spread enough rumours about you, you would leave all by yourself. You weren’t going to let that happen. With 15 minutes to go until Romanoff arrived to start that days training session, you backed away from the murmuring people, trying not to let their words get to you, and trying to use the anger that was bubbling up inside of you to build your motivation. It wasn’t until you got into the changing rooms that the anger faded into irrevocable sadness that often lingered behind the emotions that surfaced. Trying to cough out the lump in your throat and looking determinedly at the ceiling, you focused on the good. You were here, you were through, you were improving day-to-day, and you had already proven people wrong. This was your dream, and you were going to get there eventually. Placing the palms of your hands in your eyes, you tried not to think about the deep loneliness that had etched its way into your bones, chilling you from the inside out. You tried not to think about the last time you had been touched that wasn’t violent or pitying. Repeating to yourself like a mantra, you affirmed, “You can sleep when you’re dead, and you can love when you’re finished.”

 “That seems an awfully lonely way of thinking, sweetheart.”

 Bucky’s voice startled you out of your trance, and you got to your feet, only seeing red. This was the man who was trying to sabotage you, spreading lies into the wind to break you down, and you were going to show him exactly what you thought about it.

“How dare you come in here, pretending like you’re not trying to sabotage my career, my life, by telling the world that I was sleeping my way to the top, and you have the audacity to call me sweetheart? Get out of my face, I never want to see you again.”

 “Woah, woah, woah, where has this come from?” You went to storm past him, rolling your eyes to hide the tears that were building again, but he stepped back, gently placing his arm in front of you. “Look, I don’t know where you’ve got all this from, but I promise I would never tell anyone anything that wasn’t true. I haven’t told a soul that I’m going to help you, and I would never make up something as obscene as you were repaying me with sex? I swear on my ma’s grave that whatever you heard; it wasn’t from me.”

 You looked at him calculatingly, trying to read his expression and find any tell-tale tics that he was lying, but his face was relaxed, his eyes open and almost pleading that you believed him. You had no idea why he cared so much, he had known you for all of two hours, and no he was pretending like you had some sort of trust between you? As if reading your mind, he spoke again.

 “Look, I know we don’t know each other but I’ve read your file, I know about you, about your life. You’re smart, and the sort of person we need as an agent here, Nat said so herself. I know she sees herself in you, but she can’t do anything about it so I’m here to help you. I want to help, I promise I would never do something to hurt you, and I will kick the asses of all of the other recruits for spreading shit about you.”

You couldn’t help but give a small smile at this, sniffing away some stray tears that you didn't realise had fallen. He did seem genuine, and everyone knows that there’s always a leap of faith at some point in everyone’s story, maybe yours was with Bucky.

“Is that a smile?” He asked, “I know this is a new age, but damn, it seems like pigs might be flying!” An unwanted laugh escaped your lips, unable to keep it at bay. How on earth had someone been able to cut through your mask so quickly? You blamed the lack of sleep and ignored any other point your brain might come up with. “You should get back to the other recruits, this week is strength and fitness, and if you don’t beat at least 3 people up that climbing wall then I’m making you get up an hour earlier each day this week.”

 He turned to walk out of the door, and as he opened it, he turned back to you, giving an award-winning smile. Were there butterflies in your stomach? Yes. Were you going to ignore them for all eternity? Also yes. Bucky had been in your life all of two hours, he wasn’t going to be the reason you failed, all because you were touch-starved and lonely. Shaking those unwanted feelings out of your head, you braced yourself for the onslaught of accusations that would be thrown at you, but somehow the prospect of facing them seemed a little lighter than they had before.

⁎⁎⁎

Over the course of the week, you and Bucky had spent over 25 and a half hours working together, not that you were counting. An hour and a half of that was on Wednesday, when there had been an unfortunate incident where you broke down and accidentally spilled your guts to Bucky, telling him everything that had ever got to you. You told him about your father never accepting who you were and pushing you into some mould by sending you off to some faraway school. You talked about how you weren’t even sure if this was right for you, and that you chose what to do next by seeing what people said you couldn’t do. Your hopes and fears spilled out, accompanied by too much snot and a slightly bewildered Bucky. To his credit, he comforted you, remaining silent until you had calmed yourself down. Before you had a chance to apologise, Bucky spoke in a collected but soft voice. He opened up too, telling you about his nightmares, about how after Steve left, he felt the pressure to become the hero that everyone expected him to be. You could still hear his voice crack as he laid himself out on the table, just as you had done.

 “After all I did as the Winter Soldier, I struggled with the idea that I could be a hero like everyone else. I felt I didn’t belong, and I pushed away anyone that tried to reach out. Then I realised that you accept the treatment you think you deserve, and you belong where you allow yourself to belong.”

 Through sleep deprivation, pushing yourself through limits and emotional sharing, you two had become closer than you had with anyone before. The butterflies in your stomach turned into smiles when he walked into the room. At night, you found yourself preoccupied with thoughts of him. Of stupid jokes he’d make throughout the sessions, featherlight touches that stayed hot for minutes after he moved and ways in which you could ease his night-time turmoil’s. He had been kind to you when no one else had, and you let him in where no one else could be. He was your light in darkness and the warmth within your veins, and you had a feeling that you were also his.

Although Bucky had eased your self-deprecating thoughts, they still surfaced every now and again. Frustration often triggered them when you struggled to see progress. You knew it had been such a short period of time, but you knew Bucky must be getting frustrated at you too, and you couldn’t deal with his disappointment among everyone else’s. Although he didn’t know, he had become the thing in your life that held you together, and if he left, you were certain you would fall apart.

 This was all whirling around your mind on Saturday afternoon, until Bucky’s voice cut through your thoughts.

 “No!” Bucky shouted at you, “You’re leaving your side exposed, someone can come in here.” He jabbed you and you let out a growl. You had been training for hours, Bucky putting you through your paces after making you get up earlier than usual, and then stay later afterwards. Today seemed to be one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did. You couldn’t seem to get anything right and were getting more irritated by the second.

 “Can’t you see I’m trying!” You yelled back at him, repositioning yourself to try again. As you lunged at him, he stepped you easily.

 “Too obvious, again.”

You rolled your neck to release some tension in your shoulders and tried again. You jumped to the other side, but Bucky pushed one of your shoulders, “Keep balanced!” You ignored him and went in for another punch. “Legs!” He shouted, sweeping at your ankles, making you stumble back into the wall as his arm crossed over your chest, pinning you down. You felt tears brim in your eyes, the overwhelming emotion from the past few months coming to the surface again. You couldn’t breathe past the lump that was stuck in your throat, and looked Bucky defiantly in the eye, daring him to say something else, because he was just like everyone else. He would leave when he realised that you weren’t going anywhere, and you would be left alone again. It was your fault for getting your hopes up. Instead, his face fell, concern lacing his features.

 “I’m so sorry (Y/n), Oh god,” He said softly, releasing you from against the wall, “I’m sorry, I got a little too carried away. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” He looked up at you, searching your face and brushing some sweaty hair off of your forehead, “I just really want you to get through, I want you to be in this team. Let’s stop for today, yeah? That was too much.”

You looked up at him confused, watching his shaking hands as they moved away from your face with curiosity. His words were a stark contrast to all the other voices of people that had told you that you were too weak, not made for this sort of world, that you couldn’t do it, but those voices rang louder in the back of your head. Before, they had spurred you on, but now you felt like maybe they were right, and you were stupid to try and prove them wrong. Bucky’s intentions resurfaced in your mind again, and you began doubting the friendship you had formed, wondering what he was doing helping you. You shoved him back, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to pour out of your eyes. “Why are you helping me? Is this some joke to you and Romanoff? See how far I go before I break? See how much I believe I have a friend, before realising you were making it up?” Every doubt you had about him was threading itself into your words, trying to hide your feelings deep under insecurities, and hiding those insecurities under anger and spite.

 He looked at you, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. Then his eyebrows furrowed, and he took another step back. He pointed his finger accusatorily at you, “What have I got to do to show you that I mean it? That I care about your outcome? I’ve known you for less than three weeks and you already occupy every space in my brain. I can’t stop thinking about you (Y/n)! And all you can say is that I’m not sincere? Not genuine enough for you? Shock horror, not everyone hates you, some love you, open your goddamn eyes.”

 Bucky’s voice was filled with a mix of passion and anger, his words shaking and his hands falling limp by his side as he finished. His chest was moving up and down heavily and realisation hit you. This wasn’t a one-way street. You had been so caught up in yourself that you failed to see the obvious. The way that Bucky was also getting up at ungodly hours, making training plans, preparing sports drinks and high energy snacks. He had shown you love in a way that you had failed to recognise because you had never been taught to look for it, and now he was pouring his heart out to you and all you could do was stare back at him. You had no idea what to say, what could you reply to that? How could you tell him that you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind, so you tried to kid yourself that it was all nothing? That he was the only thing keeping you going through this? That he was the person to replace your motivations of spite, to motivations of love?

“Kiss me.” Your voice said, sounding small, but Bucky didn’t need telling twice. He pinned you back against the wall and crashed his lips to yours. Your bodies moulded together, and your lips moved against one another. You both trying to express the repressed feelings, you your gratitude, and him his pure intentions. And whilst no fireworks went off, you felt a sigh of relief exit your body as he kissed you. The tension releasing from your shoulders, and the threat of tears subsiding from your eyes. When you finally broke apart, you looked at him, a small smile appeared on his face.

 “Now that, was worth fighting for.”

 “Bucky, I’m sorry,” you tried to say, but he cut you off.

“I know, I am too, I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

 “No, you shouldn’t apologise, I’m sorry for not appreciating you, you gave me everything I wanted, and I gave attitude back. I never could be scared of you. The only thing I was scared about is that I might fall in love with you, because that’s a terrifying ordeal.”

 He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead. “You showed me you appreciated me in your own way, you talked me through my nightmares, brought two towels because you know I always forget mine and laugh at my jokes no matter how stupid. You embolden the light inside me by encouraging me to be me. Maybe we both need to work on our communication a little more, but we also speak in a language that the other understands, so it’s okay.” You rested your head on his chest, finding solace in the steady beating of his heart and his hands stroking your hair. You could feel his lips moving against your hairline as he spoke again, “Come on, let’s get some food, too much shouting makes me hungry.”

 You couldn’t help but laugh, “Barnes, breathing makes you hungry, you’re an ogre.”

“A sexy ogre that’s going to take you on a date and ask for Nat for special treatment to pass you through the stages, because I am done with early mornings. I will train you in weapons myself at a reasonable hour.”

“That’s definitely cheating.”

“Maybe so, but it’s more fun.”

 ⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

[ultramarvelslug]

The Set Up

Pairing: Peter Maximoff (xmen) x reader

Words: 1535

Warnings: None

A/n: Done for @yslbuckyx 1k Writing Challenge. Congrats on 1k! Prombt will be in bold. Based sort of on a dream I had so yeah

---

“PETER, ITS STARTING!” You yell down the hall and feel a gush of wind in front of you. Standing in front of you, the silver haired boy hands you a pint of ice cream. 

“Here you go, chocolate chip cookie dough, so gross.”

“Shut up Peter. Come on I don’t want to miss the beginning.” You take Peters have and lead him to the bed. 

“What do you mean you don’t want to miss the beginning, you’ve seen The Force Awakens a thousand times.” 

“But its so amazing. Now hush.”

You sit on the bed and settle in. About halfway through, you nod off on Peters shoulder and Peter looks down at your beautiful face, wishing he could capture this moment. Peter had had a crush on you ever since the two of you met. He didn’t want to tell you in case you didn’t like him back; which he didn’t think you did. The two of you had a wonderful platonic relationship and didn’t want to jeopardize that. 

As the credits were rolling, you wake up and leap up from the bed, embaressed that you had fell asleep in such a compromised positon. 

“OhmygoodnessPeter, I’msosorry. Idontevenrememberfallingasleep.”

Peter chuckles, “Slow down Y/n, it’s fine. I really don’t mind.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Well I’m gonna go to bed now, bye” Your feet move faster than your brain and next thing you know you are running out the door and hoping Peter doesn’t follow; him being able to catch up with you quickly. 

Thankfully Peter didn’t follow, you didn’t know if you’d be able to face him if he did. When you first came to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Peter caught your eye right away. In truth, you thought he was hot, although you would never voice that to anyone. You had struck up a friendship with Peter, bonding over favorite movies and Queen. Over time your crush on him had grown but you were still comfortable enough around him to be functional. But probably not now. 

“Oh come on Y/n, it's not that bad.” Jean sat on your bed trying to comfort you after you told her your incident with Peter. You had told your best friend about your crush because there was no way you could keep it from her and you trusted her. Even those who weren’t telepaths could see your feelings for Peter and his feelings for you. 

“But Jean it was bad! He’s gonna know that I like him now!” You buried your face in your pillow. 

On the other side of the school, Peter was expressing his feelings about you to Scott. 

“And then she just left! Scott, does she hate me? I think she hates me. What if she hates me Scott?!” 

“Peter,” Scott sighs patiently. “She does not hate you.”

“Yeah? Well why else would she feel like she needed to get away from me as soon as possible?” Scott just looks at Peter with his eyebrow raised. “What an absurd idea Scott, Y/n does not like me you idiot.” Scott just shrugs his shoulders. 

“Maybe you would figure out that she does if you just told her how you feel.” Peter rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever dude.”

Scott walks back to his room after trying to calm Peter down and hears a voice. 

So how did it go with Peter? Jean. Scott and Jean would often have conversations like this whenever they were apart, which wasn’t very often. Scott had told her that Peter needed to talk to him and she noted his thoughts were growing louder and it seemed he was anxious about something. 

Something strange happened with him and Y/n, she ran out of his room with no explanation. He’s really worked up about it. 

Y/n said that she fell asleep on Peter’s shoulder and was petrified so she just ran. Ya know, I’m super tired of them pining after each other and doing nothing about their feelings. 

It really is exhausting. I have an idea of how we can get them together, meet me in the library. 

***

Jean and Scott put their plan into action the neat day at lunch. As usual, Peter and you were sitting next to each other talking quietly. You had apologized before class for running out so oddly the previous night and had blamed it on to much chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Peter had said that it was no big deal and that he was glad you were better. 

Scott and Jean abruptly sat across from you, stopping your conversation. 

“So guys we were thinking of going out to dinner tonight, you wanna join us?” Jean looked at you and you knew exactly what she was doing. 

“But isn’t tonight your guys date night?” Evidently Peter had no idea what was happening. 

“Yes, but Jean and I wanted to invite you guys.” Scott grinned widely. You looked nervously over to Peter, who just shrugged his shoulders. You followed suit. 

“Okay great! Well see you out front at 5?” Jean looks between the two of you triumphantly. 

When your classes end, you had two hours to get mentally and physically ready for this obvious set up. You choose a simple but classy outfit, no need to get all dressed up. Right? You had dinner with Peter dozens of times. So why did this time feel different? 

By the time you were ready, it was already 5:06 and you ran out of your bedroom door. When you reached the main doors, Peter and Scott were already there waiting. 

“Where’s Jean, she is always the first one here.” Scott looked at the two of you. 

“Um, she wasn’t feeling well. But she told me to tell you that there is a drive in movie at 9 and to have fun without us.” You exchange a chance with Peter, one that says ‘do you really want to go through with this’? 

“Well, uh tell her to get feeling better.” You plaster on a smile. 

“Ditto.” Peter so eloquently adds to the conversation. Then, with a whoosh your outside, sitting in one of the professors cars. 

“So that was weird,” Peter looks at you quizzically. “Do you really think Jean is sick?” This question causes you to laugh and looks at Peter. “What? If she’s sick maybe we should do something for her.”

“No Peter, I don’t think she’s sick.” You look back at him with a grin, causing butterflies in both of your stomachs to start looking for an escape route. 

“Oh, okay” Peter whispers and lowers his eyes. Clearing his throat, he continues, “Ok Y/n, we’ve always been great friends and able to talk about the most personal things, so why is it so weird all of the sudden?” 

̈ ̈Probably because Jean and Scott set us up on a date.” Peter’s jaw drops “You didn’t know this?” 

“No, I just I-hm. I’m just an idiot.”  He smiles and looks down at the steering wheel. 

“Peter, you are not an idiot.” You roll your eyes toward him. His eyes bore into you and you feel something in you stir. You stare back with as much passion in your eyes as him. 

Suddenly Peter clears his throat, looks ahead, and lowers his eyes; and just like that, the moment is over.

“So where do you wanna go for supper?” Peter stares forward. 

“Peter, do think I don’t notice you changing the subject.”

“Y/n its just- I mean- well,” he sighs, defeated. 

“Peter, do you have something to tell me?” Suddenly, a gush of wind ruffles your hair and all that is left of Peter is smoke. Before you can even register Peterś gone, he returns as quick as he left. 

“Peter, where did you go? I was wo-” Peter puts a finger to your lip.

“Y/n hold on, I have something to confess. Y/n I’m in love with you, I’ve loved you since the first day we met. I think about you all the time. Sometimes I can't sleep because you infiltrate my thoughts. It’s okay if you don't feel the same way-” Your laugh echoes through the garage and Peter looks downtrodden. 

“Oh just come here and kiss me you dork.” Before he can respond you press your lips to his effectively stopping him from objecting, as if he would. 

The kiss was as smooth and silk and tasted like honey. You and Peters lips melted together like candle wax and both of you felt the love very prominent in the kiss. Peter couldn’t contain the glee in his voice, “So, wheredoyouwanttogo? Wecouldgotodinnerorgoseethatmoviethatscottwastalkingaboutor-” You laugh out loud again. 

“Slow down you’re losing me, what was that?” Peter’s cheeks turn pink and he looks bashful. 

“Sorry, its just I never imagined that you would actually like me back and I just like you so much.”

You kiss him again, this kiss being better than the first. 

“Now I wish I would have told you sooner.” Peter grins his trademark grin and you melt.  

“How about we go have that dinner you were talking about?” Peter agrees, puts his arm around you, and the two of you are off. 

[jbbuckybarnes]

Universe Bracelet

Description: So this is for @yslbuckyx ‘s writing challenge and the first time I’m writing for a challenge and I’ve been wanting to do this “Changing Universes for a day” AU for quite some time and this was the perfect opportunity. Could be better, could be worse. Hope you enjoy! Feedback on writing and especially formatting would be nice (Tumblr formatting is weird sometimes lmao)

Prompt: “Is that my sweater?” | Reader x Bucky (hinted)

Word Count: 2000+

For: @yslbuckyx

Warnings: None. Unless you are allergic to fluff.

M A S T E R L I S T

You opened your eyes slowly after sleeping for what feels like 10 years. It doesn’t feel normal from the second you slip back into consciousness. Your eyes open up to see a room you don’t know. Wait! You weren’t much of a party person and you didn’t leave your house in a week. Sleepwalking wasn’t usual for you either. You concentrated on your body. No sign of pain or exhaustion. What happened?

The cozy socks you were suddenly wearing reached the ground very quickly and you went to open the blinds. It felt oddly familiar but not like you were dreaming. All your eyes could see was nature and a part of the building you were in. You shook your head trying to think about your next few steps.

“How do I find out where I am and if I’m in danger?” Those words calmly left your lips while you started pacing through the room.  After five minutes of contemplating if you weren’t in a dream, which involved some weird activities to find out if you were dreaming, you decided to try getting out of the room.

With silent steps, you opened the door which led to a little hallway. There was a bookcase standing there and a basket full of clothes. All you could do was go on a little adventure through the building. There was a kitchen and living room area that was completely empty but visibly used the night before. Your eyes found a sweater and your body clearly needed it to stay warm right now.

*I can’t just wear some random sweater or look into that fridge over there if I’m not dreaming.* your thoughts went on. Your body and trust in this being a dream overpowered you after a while and you put on the cozy oversized sweater. Only when you looked out of the window of the living room did you realize where you are. The Avengers compound. So it needed to be a dream, right? You read somewhere that your dreams can be very detailed when you’ve recently consumed movies and books about something and this fit the criteria well. The way to the fridge was a little bit more fearless than the sneaky behavior before. Fruits, soda, cheese, leftover pasta, leftover pancakes, pudding. You took the pudding, still assuming that this would definitely add nothing to your life. It’s just a dream.

“Can you authorize yourself, Miss?” the voice was F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Y/N Y/L/N. I just woke up in a room here. I-” the nervousness made you stop, what if this WASN’T a dream? What would be the chances of you falling asleep and waking up in a fictional universe? Stressed out by your thoughts you went to lean on the countertop behind you. “I also don’t know why I’m here. I just know that you’re called Friday. And that all of this is completely fictional where I went to sleep. Please tell me this is a weirdly detailed dream.” the last part was more for yourself. Your hand went over your face as it set in that this seemed to be real. “Boss, we have another case of parallel universes overlapping after the blip. There is no trace of her in any system and I can’t track a way she came in. This is the 7th case this month. The second time to happen near an Avengers facility since we started tracking it. She seems to be the first one to know where she is. Shall I send someone to check on her?” the computer voice went on. Everything went silent for a while and you were nervous about any noise as you ate your pudding. Well, you didn’t know whose pudding it was.

“You’re eating Sam’s pudding.” a deep voice came from the door and you flinched. Why did you expect to hear anybody coming? This was a house full of assassins. “Glad to know that it wasn’t yours or Natasha’s.” you tried to smile but you were nervous. That man might be cute in your universe but you didn’t know which year of what kind of timeline you landed in. “Is that my sweater?” he pointed down on you with a small smile as he came closer. “I guess so. Was laying on the couch over there.” you pointed there with your spoon. “Which universe are you from?” he asked interested. “The multiverse is only a theory where I’m from. You and everything here is fictional in my world. Most cities in this world exist in mine but Wakanda or Sokovia aren’t a thing in my world. They were inspired by other things, I guess. God, this is so confusing. You’re not...you.” your brain needed a second. “What do you mean?” he frowned. “Well, you’re played by an actor in my world. He also exists in this world probably if this is made after the fiction in my world since they created this little plot hole in the last movie. Gosh, this is...why is this happening?” your heart rate didn’t calm down. “So you know everything about all of us?” he asked dipping his head to the side. He was clearly intrigued by what you had to say. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes, people call you Bucky. You were born in 1917, lived in Brooklyn, had two sisters, were drafted, part of the Howling Commandos, went MIA, brainwashed by Hydra, are the assassin of the century as that brainwashed Winter Soldier, got found by Steve, someone pushed the fault for a bombing on you, lived in Wakanda after that, don’t know what happened after the blip. Everything after that isn’t confirmed in my world.” you held your head and his jaw was on the floor. “Tell me about Wakanda, so I can be sure that you’re not sent here for spying.” he crossed his arms. “It’s a beautiful and advanced little country that had a meteorite full of vibranium impact it. There are four tribes, three of them living together and another in the mountains with their own king. T’Challa is the Black Panther, but Shuri is the mastermind behind his constant improvement if I’m being quite honest. God, she is really nice and smart. I wish I was like her.” you started rambling and he had a soft smile on his face as soon as Shuri started being a topic. “She is a gift,” he said after a short moment of silence. “Duh! She kinda changed your life.” you smiled up at him. ____

“So how do I get back to my universe?” you asked after you had been talking for a while and were back in the room you woke up in. You didn’t even know if you had to stay here forever and that thought scared you. “You could stay and let Tony find out how to portal back and forth.” he smiled. You must’ve done everything right with him since you never saw him smile this much in the movies. “There would be a chance of staying here. I don’t know if I wanna do that to the people in my life.” you played with your fingers. The fear of ruining the mood with this answer was intense. “Well, other than that the only thing that helped the others is sleeping in the place the awoke in this universe.” he shrugged his shoulders. He still smiled but it was a smaller smile. Like the one he had at the start of your conversation. “Can I keep the sweater?” you grinned to lift the mood. His nod had you breathe out relaxed “You’re my favorite Avenger. You know?” “Why that?” he was visibly surprised by those words. “You have a good heart. And let’s not lie here, I really like your arm. It’s kinda cool.” You visibly blushed after those words left your mouth. “Uuh, thanks.” he also clearly didn’t know how to react. “Natasha is pretty awesome too. I guess I just like the mysterious ones.” you tried to put the attention away from him. A knock on the door and Steve was standing there a second later to check the situation. If this didn’t feel unreal before, it felt unreal now.

The rest of the day went by like a bullet train through the train station on a hot summer day. Fast, comfortable and hitting you right in the face at some point. You had been with the two soldiers for most of the day but Tony had some questions and gave you a tracking device to find out more. Sam was targeted by Bucky and you and definitely not happy about being lowkey bullied by a girl from a different universe. “You know what that means. She disses me, means she likes you.” and he left a room full of blushing people. F you for that, Sam! ____

A ton of the hours with them were spent explaining the problems in your universe and they explained what was going on with their world. It was weird but also made you feel special. Knowing their problems were underwater earthquakes, some Asian governments, and the usual US bs. Kinda made you feel like every universe had some type of problem like that. You mainly told them about all the climate problems and how right-wing everything currently got all over the globe. Very much to the dislike of Steve, for obvious reasons. “If I ever come back I want to be in one of those jets once.” you crossed your arms with a serious face at the end of your deep conversation about politics. “That can be arranged.” Steve smiled his typical smile back at you before taking a sip from his mug. “I’ll count on it.” you grabbed your mug that had hot chocolate in it, cause Steve secretly was a total mother hen. ____

And then the time had come to go to sleep. You had found out that this would’ve been Peter’s room if he had joined the Avengers like this. The thought of sleeping in Spider-Man’s room didn’t help your heart rate to calm down. “Before you go to sleep.” Bucky’s right hand went into his pant pocket and pulled out two Kimoyo beads on a bracelet. “They gave this to me in Wakanda and I feel like you deserve it more than me. Don’t do anything stupid with it.” he took your hands and put it into them. “I can’t this is a technology we don’t have, Bucky,” you said with wide eyes up at him. “Then don’t do anything stupid with it.” he gave you a soft smile. “Why? Cause I’m taking all the stupid with me?” you smirked. “That’s right.” he chuckled, “Goodnight, cosmic girl.” He left the room after a short hug and the last thing you remember before falling asleep is putting on the bracelet and playing with it till you got tired. ____

Waking up in your world the day later in his sweater and with the bracelet made you feel more at peace in your own home than you expected. You held the beads in your hand before seeing one light up. You pressed down on it and a hologram came up, making you jump a little. “Y/N?” Shuri’s voice came through and the picture came next. “Yeah?” you were confused, why was this happening? “YES, these can communicate between universes.” she jumped and clapped in the projection. “Bucky told me that he gave you his beads before you left and I CAN’T BELIEVE IT WORKED...wait, is that his sweater?” she had a suggestive smile and you could only blush as an answer. “Let’s find a way to bring you back and forth so he can get it together and ask you for a date,” she said typing things beside her and you just went into full red mode. “So, one of the beads is obviously a communication bead. The other one is technically a portable lexicon, you need to squeeze it between thumb and middle finger with the thumb on the icon on it.” she went on to explain a lot of things before going through a ton of possibilities to create a passage between the two universes.

This was gonna be a long journey...

[daredevile]

The Art Of Assassination Masterlist

Summary: All your life, you’ve been trained to achieve the utmost perfection in the art of assassination. After all, it was your area of expertise. However, a dilemma awakens when a charming and astonishingly persistent stranger enters your dangerous world. [Assassin AU]

Warnings: None

Chapter One // Chapter Two

indefinite number of chapters at the moment

[daredevile]

The Art Of Assassination - Part One

Summary: All your life, you’ve been trained to achieve the utmost perfection in the art of assassination. After all, it was your area of expertise. However, a dilemma awakens when a charming and astonishingly persistent stranger enters your dangerous world.

Warnings: Steve Approved!

A/N: Hey guys! Haven’t written anything in a while and I miss all the frustration of forming cohesive sentences. Anyway, this one’s for @yslbuckyx and my prompt is assassin au. I can’t tell you how excited I am for this!!! Hope you enjoy :)

The knife was tucked neatly into the holster, a tinge of red evident on the piercing blade, almost as if it were blushing. It was an empty hallway. The lights of scrutiny blared at you like a spotlight as you walked away from the room of wrong. Hands reaching up to the buttons of your speckled white shirt, you discarded the identity into an unmanned cart. Now in gray, you’re less recognisable to the people around you.

A ding announced the opening of the elevator. It’s not empty. A house-keeping member acknowledged your presence with a compulsory smile. She seemed busy, the light tapping of her impatient foot caught your attention. Another ding and she’s already walking, you nudged her shoulder with enough force, an apparent accident. Her balance is lost, but your hand supported her. A quick, bashful apology escaped your lips, the element of surprise is valuable, your hand reached into her coat pocket.

“I’m so sorry ma’am. Do you happen to know where the lady’s room is?” Your mannerisms were more feminine, she pointed in the direction and darted away. Her dark sunglasses in your possession. It’s a lavish hotel, everyone was occupied with one thing or the other. Nobody noticed your wig thrown under the maroon couch or the full cup of coffee you swiped from the marble table. Only the sound of your heels stabbing the ground with each step drew all the attention, but you were out of the building before they even knew it.

The streets were crowded. Yet no one was there. All eyes glued to black mirrors, descending into the land of eternity. There was a small seating area mostly with men eating hotdogs and slurping large cans of soda. You spotted an easy prey. He was frustrated, typing away on his device. Your deceiving smile was back and he fell for it. You pretended to stumble and before he could have the satisfaction of being your knight in shining armour, your coffee attacks his clothes. He stands up, hastily wiping it away. Hand placed on his arm as you offer him tissues from the table, a distraction. He mumbled unimportant words and you bid him adieu. His phone twirling in your hand. You pressed on the worn-out numbers, the melodic tune drowned into silence.

“The subject has been eliminated,” Your words were sharp and short. The phone is crushed under your fingertips and thrown into the nearby fountain.

The motel was crappy but manageable. Creaking stairs, broken elevator and friendly neighbours were the problem. Your neighbour is irritatingly nice, she baked chocolate chip cookies when you had first moved in and since then, you were forever bound to unnecessary conversations with her every time she saw you. It was troublesome, especially in the beginning, her unannounced visits forced you to shove the array of weapons under the bed.

It was midnight when you left. The roaring winds and sudden flashes of lightning provided the perfect setting for heavy rain. Down the street, the flickering neon sign of your favourite diner made your stomach growl. Midnight meant no people, no hiding. You sat in the furthest booth, the teasing aroma of food on the table tickled your senses.

“Can I sit here?” Your eyes opened, hand slithering to the knife tucked into the holster. A man in his 20s maybe, gestured to the empty seat.

“My father always told me never to trust a stranger,”

“Your father is right,” He sat anyway, silky brown hair falling on his face. He pushed it back in a second, unveiling the ocean in his eyes. He was attractive, your type even. Maybe in another life.

“Elliot,” His hand extended over the table, you raised yours and instead of shaking his hand,  you reached for your food. A short laugh from him congratulates your humour.

“Don’t waste my time, Elliot,”

“They told me you’d be nice,” His words break the smile on your face. They?  “Details for the next subject will be delivered to you tomorrow,” A proud smirk forming as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Is that all?” Standing up, your jaw clenched and the tone of your voice, dangerously low.

“Your father wants to speak with you,”

--------

Bucky threw his keys onto the tray, shutting the door rather furiously. This was not a good day for him. First, the electricity was out, then, someone spilt coffee all over him and now his phone was missing. Sighing, he removed his shirt, tossing it on the sofa. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, only the soft glow of the fridge being opened lit up the apartment. It was empty. Bucky slammed the door, rubbing his temple in defeat. He stared out the window, watching tiny streaks of raindrops race each other. The rain was nowhere near calming down. The sound of his stomach rumbling snapped him out of his train of thought and just like that, he was back in his car, going to the only place open at this ungodly hour.

Just as he parked, a woman walking away from the diner caught his eyes. He wondered who would be insane enough to be out in this weather and alone too. Thunder erupted from the sky and he saw the woman jump. It seemed awkward, for him to follow a stranger and attempt to reassure them in the middle of the night. His footsteps were mute, Bucky didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

“Um, hello?” His hand was touching your shoulder, and in an instant, he realised what a terrible idea that was. One swift motion and your knife was kissing his neck. Bucky took a step back, hands in the air. Panic morphed into realisation.

“You stole my phone!”

A pause. This was new, you never see them again. Nothing comes out of your mouth and Bucky wonders for a split second where he wrongfully accused you or not. But you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were set on the dark-haired man inside the diner.

“Could you take me home?” Bucky sensed your discomfort based on the eagerness in your voice. He wasn’t one to help thieves, however, an unsettling sensation plagued his mind. He didn’t want to leave you there.

The silence was loud. Only the periodic swiping of the windshield wipers kept you awake. From the corner of your eye, you could tell he wanted to speak. Probably didn’t know what to ask.

“Who is he?” Curious eyes focused on you. The lack of street lights casting a dark aura inside the car.

“He’s been following me for a while,” That was it. No invitation to continue the conversation and he didn’t, for which you were glad. A few minutes passed before he tapped your shoulder and motioned to your building. Lightning cracked through the dark canvas as if it were the jarring flashes of an omnipotent camera. You flinched again. The door was hesitantly opened and he knew you weren’t going to ask for help.

“Hey, I’m kinda hungry. You don’t mind if I…,” A lie to accompany you. It was a pleasant surprise, he was extremely observant and thoughtful, even after the coffee incident. His warmth chased you up the creaky stairs to your doorstep. With one long glance and unexchanged words, he was stepping into your home.

Father was wrong after all. 

To be continued