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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Your legacy is my nightmare [½] Re-written

Avengers: Age of Ultron / Post Civil War

Pairing: Avengers/Tony Stark x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Your past was marked by Tony Stark, ever since a Stark Industries bomb hit that restaurant when you were 10 years old, during an attack on Novi Grad, the capital of Sokovia. From that moment on, the rage for revenge took hold of you, but things didn’t turn out the way you expected.

Warnings: Angst. Trauma. Deaths. Violence.

Word count: 5378

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic Force Projection. Psionic force fields that she can manipulate in various ways.

When you were five years old you discovered that there was a completely different world inside that magic box. A world that seemed far away from the small town you lived in, a world that could capture your attention, that made you laugh, that grabbed you, and that you dreamed of living in in the future. It was then that American sitcoms became your world.

Your childhood in Novi Grad, the capital of Sokovia, was like that of any other child, totally happy. You were an only child, you were born and raised in a hard-working and extremely loving family, your parents loved you and you loved them, because all they wanted was to make you happy. Your birth took place on a sunny morning in June, creating the tradition that every birthday you went out to do something special, something out of the ordinary routine of everyday life. On your sixth birthday your parents took you to the amusement park, discovering that you weren’t too fond of Ferris wheels. During your eighth birthday your parents opted to take you to a football match, which you enjoyed quite a lot. On your ninth birthday, the three of you took a little trip to the mountains, discovering that you were completely allergic to wasp stings, but on your tenth birthday, everything changed.

For several weeks you had been pestering your mother to go to the new restaurant that had opened in the city centre. Remember that you were madly in love with American sitcoms from the 1950s, which were constantly on reruns on Sokovia television, so you couldn’t have been luckier when you found out that they had opened an American-style restaurant in the city centre. Your mother used to make excuses for not going, but not because she didn’t want to, but because she wanted to wait until your tenth birthday to go and have lunch with the three of you as a family, and that’s how it happened. The morning of your tenth birthday, Novi Grad dawned bright and shiny, there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the sun was shining. It was Saturday, so there was neither school nor any job that would prevent you from spending the day apart. Your face changed to excitement when you discovered a note along with a special breakfast, informing you of a surprise lunch at Fred’s, the American-style restaurant. At the time you thought you were the luckiest girl in the universe, and that nothing and no one was going to change your mind, but things never work out the way you expect them to.

At around 13:15 you were seated at a table, and you yourself had decided which table you preferred, opting for the one right next to the large window, where you could watch the crowds passing by on the street. While your father informed the waitress about the menu you were going to have, you played with the bottle of ketchup while looking out of the window, on Saturdays the centre was usually crowded and that put you in a good mood. A Jukebox harmonised the atmosphere with typical songs of that decade, you had no idea what the song was, but you knew that you had heard it before in some sitcom. You were delighted, you seemed to be part of one of those comic scenes that made you laugh night after night, however something outside caught your attention, making you drop the bottle of ketchup from your hands. The scene was strange, people were no longer walking, running, no longer laughing, shouting, but you barely had time to utter “Mum…” before a bomb smashed through the large window.

Trauma. An inconsistent word that has so many negative connotations for the person who suffers from it. You never thought that a life filled with numerous catastrophic experiences could ever find the meaning of the word ‘Peace’ again, yet there you were, searching for it. The placid singing of the water crashing against the stones of the riverbed was the best melody you could wake up to every morning. After so many years you had found a place away from civilisation, far from the terror of humanity. A hut in the middle of the green and brown fields of Wakanda, a place where nothing and no one could disturb you. You could say, you could barely remember the time when you were at peace with yourself, maybe your childhood, but there was nothing left of that. However, the harmony around you, together with the humility of country life had given you back all the strength you needed to be able to go on with your life.

But now the question is how you came to Wakanda and why. It had been almost a year since a terrifying experience in the maximum security prison for humans with superpowers, also known as the Raft, prevented you from ever finding inner peace again. During the indeterminate period of time you were held in that underwater facility, the guards did terrible things to your brain. Fear for your powers caused them to take the initiative in using brain torture methods, the only way they discovered that was effective in overriding them. It left scars on you that would last a lifetime, if you made it out of there alive, which you came to believe would be impossible.

The next question is how you came to find yourself in that situation, but we’d better go back to the beginning, when that bomb hit that American-style restaurant in your hometown of Novi Grad. The darkness came moments after the projectile pierced the glass of that building and found its way into the ruins inside, creating a gaping hole underground. The loss of time and space came upon you, when you opened your eyes there was nothing, it was all darkness, yet a red, flickering light was just a few centimetres from your face. You could not move, your limbs were confined by the debris, you could only see the light that slightly illuminated the small air chamber in which you found yourself. You saw that metallic object in front of you, which had written on its side words that were engraved in your memory forever 'Stark Industries’.

It was a long period in which tears silently flowed from your eyes, it was indescribable the way fear clung to your body, with a small hope of being found that flickered on and off with that red light. You hardly knew what that light meant, that it really was a 'lucky break’ for you, at least that’s what all the news said when you were rescued two days later. Eventually you discovered that the bomb must have exploded, that like your parents and all the other members of the local, you must have died.

Your life after that did not improve, but you found them, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Your similar experiences during the bombing of Sokovia brought you together, they had also lost their parents and now you were three orphans who were confined from house to house waiting to come of age and flee the place. The country of Sokovia became a war zone, with US troops frequently invading the streets, causing protests by the locals to intensify. During your youth you were a very active part of them, along with the twins, especially those against 'Stark Industries’. What those experiences generated was that the hatred you had hidden for Stark resurfaced again. The three of you wanted to purge your nation of foreign conflicts, so you met a division fighting for the same thing called HYDRA. You joined together, hoping to change the world, hoping to seek peace and freedom again, but that is not what happened. That group had very different ideas, ideas that you three were obviously not a part of, yet your innocence played a trick on you. Stucker, the leader of the division, offered you power, an outlet in the fight against violence, and you accepted, exposing yourselves to a series of physical experiments, called the 'Miracles’ programme. The programme consisted of exposing your bodies to radiation emitted through a sceptre that you had no idea what it was. Thirty-two people participated in the experiment, only you three remained alive. This caused a series of supernatural powers to develop in each of you. In your case, the psionic force took control of your body.

At this point HYDRA had got what it wanted, three superhumans to fight the Avengers, including Iron Man, aka Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries. It was impossible to admit that this was too juicy an incentive for you to pass up. The Avengers travelled to Sokovia with the intention of stealing the sceptre that gave you your powers. It was then, at the age of 25, after fifteen years of waiting for that moment, that you came face to face with the creator of the bomb that killed your parents, in that HYDRA operations centre in Sokovia. For the first time you could look him in the eye.

“Hey, J, a quick infrared scanner to the room,” he said in the middle of that wide ship, he had shed the suit, which was now operating on its own.

“The column to your left, I detected a human presence, with radiation levels off the charts,” the suit spoke up, discovering your position.

There was no point in staying hidden, it was the opposite of what you wanted, you wanted him to see you, to have the courage to look you in the eye, to not know who you were and let him know. Tony turned quickly towards that column that the inner voice of his suit had informed him about and bumped into you. The moment came. The brown of his iris projected towards you, he looked terribly harmless, he raised his left hand and Iron Man’s limb covered his own, projecting the palm of his hand towards your body. A smirk of arrogance amplified on your mouth.

“I mean you no harm,” his voice came out fast.

“So late,” you whispered without wiping away the smile, as you slowly raised your palms, creating a psionic field in a circular shape.

Just as Iron Man’s limb had attached itself to yours, the entire suit suddenly encircled your body. At that very moment you projected the psionic field towards him, starting a fierce battle in the middle of that ship. A battle that lasted no more than ten minutes due to your lack of ability to control, manipulate and project your powers. But that would be the first of many times you were to encounter him, that first encounter left you with a thirst for vengeance that would eventually fade, but at that moment it was impossible for you to know.

Things evolved over time, from HYDRA you came to ULTRON, who immersed you in his power, told you he was coming to save the world, but also to wipe out the Avengers, trapping you again in his intentions, believing his were the same as yours. Baron Von Strucker was killed shortly after by Ultron, now it was just the four of you, Ultron, the Maximoff twins and you.

At Salvage Yard, on the African Coast, was the second encounter. Your little group had headed out to meet Ulysses Klaue, an international criminal and underground black market arms dealer, to obtain the world’s most durable material, vibranium, however the Avengers also showed up, making the encounter more interesting. Thor, Captain America and Iron Man stood before the four of you in the middle of a gorge of corridors inside that container ship. There was Iron Man again, covering the body of Tony Stark inside.

“Are you comfortable?” Pietro turned his gaze to a set of missiles that were located on the lower deck. “Like the old times?

"This was never my life,” Iron Man replied, his voice neutral.

“Of course not,” you interjected, stepping to Pietro’s side. “He’s just the enforcer, isn’t he?”

“You can still walk away from this,” Captain America interjected, offering a nostalgic gesture from under his helmet.

“Oh, we’ll do it,” you said with marked indifference. “When the time comes.”

“I know you have suffered,” Captain America commented, eliciting a broad smile from you.

“You know that…” you whispered with a grin, lowering your gaze to your hands where psionic force was slowly concentrating through your fingers. “I really don’t care if you know.”

“It’s about me,” Tony’s stiff voice hit the mark.

“Bingo,” you said wryly just as a wide psionic field formed between your hands offering the signal for the battle to begin.

Disproportionate beams of light slammed into your pupils, energy bursting from each of you, causing the others to stand on guard and find their opponent to carry out their actions. Ultron’s minions moved to counterattack, while you scattered without a specific destination. You had had weeks of training to be able to face the new encounter you all knew was coming, and you could feel your control over your powers becoming more extended, but to do so you had to have your full attention focused on your actions.

The clash between you and Iron Man sent you off course, into a maze of dark corridors and passageways that were only illuminated by the energy coming out of that armour. Your psionic strength kept at bay the radiation that poured from the palm of his gauntlets and the monorail on his chest, causing it to bounce hard off the iron blocks of the walls.

“I’m not who you think I am,” Tony Stark’s voice came through the armour.

“Very subtle when you hide behind a mask,” your words caused the mask that covered Tony’s face to be exposed.

You stared into his eyes, feeling the energy burning inside you, feeling it building up in your hands, so you raised the palm of your hands without holding back, letting all that power come out and collide with the stealth lightning that Tony Stark let out of the palm of his hands. As if the two segments of energy were fighting a battle of their own they connected. With each draw of energy, exhaustion began to wash over you, knowing that you couldn’t last much longer than a couple of minutes in that situation. The clash caused sparks to reach each of the four sides of that corridor, denting the iron, melting it, but neither of you noticed.

At the third minute you pulled your hands away and threw yourself to one side so that its beam would not hit your body. Almost out of breath you dropped to the ground holding your palms up, Tony stopped the repulsor bolts of his gauntlets and turned his gaze upon you, but just as he took a step to approach you, a sharp, screeching noise caused you to change the destination of your gaze. What your eyes saw caused a nightmare to cling to your memory, the ceiling began to collapse, your exhaustion prevented you from creating a psionic field, your body became unresponsive and your mind locked. Your only institute was to close your eyes as tightly as you could, not knowing what was going to happen, but at that very moment when you heard how everything started to collapse, arms caught your body clutching it against a rigid chest and pulled you out.

So it was that once again a new failure was added to the list of your interventions. When you opened your eyes your body was lying prostrate in a corner of the main ship’s nave, where it had all started, but where there was no one left. The consumption of energy you had expended had left you without a shred of power within you. You looked up, your eyes a representation of the terror that had just reminded you of that moment, barely able to keep your breathing calm, and barely able to keep the words in your mouth when you saw Tony Stark’s face in front of yours again, before he looked away and walked away.

That was a turning point, for the next time you met Tony Stark face to face, you were on the same side. After the battle at Salvage Yard, the four of you, Ultron, the twins and you travelled to Seoul where Ultron’s true intentions were revealed. Ultron intended to create a genocide of humanity as a whole, he intended to create an enhanced body to dispose of his own. This horrified the three of you, causing you to flee from his power, causing Ultron’s wrath to prevail, creating a conflict in Seoul, in which the Avengers appeared. But the important thing in that was that the three of you joined the Avengers to save what had been your city, the place where you were born, Novi Grad.

You knew of Ultron’s plans for humanity, his intention was to create a device that would lift the city of Novi Grad into the sky, then drop it to Earth in a meteoric impact. On the way back to Sokovia, the place where it all began, a host of inexplicable feelings came to you, anger, shame, humiliation, hypocrisy… all related to your actions. Silence was present over the three of you, no conversations except those present to plan actions upon your arrival.

“Ultron knows we’re coming. Odds are we’ll be riding into heavy fire, and that’s what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia, they didn’t. So our priority is getting them out, ” the words coming from Steve made you nod, keeping your eyes averted. “All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that’s not going to happen today.” You felt Tony’s eyes on you, you looked up to confirm it, but this meeting of glances made you uncomfortable, changing your position. “But we can do our best to protect them. And we can get the job done, and find out what Ultron’s been building. We find Romanoff, and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us.” He paused. “Ultron thinks we’re monsters and we’re what’s wrong with the world. This isn’t just about beating him. It’s about whether he’s right.“

Those last words crashed into you, you had been asking yourself the same question for weeks, you also needed to have an answer to it. So that’s how the end of the beginning began. You could never imagine what it would be like to see hundreds of people running through those streets again, the streets where you had grown up, where you had fought for your ideals and where you were now saving all those people so that the events you had experienced would never happen again. Each of you had a specific area, your mission was to guide the population to the safe side, protecting them from Ultron’s minions. Everything seemed to be going as assured, however time ran out, the ground began to crack, creating cracks, splitting the earth, causing an area of the city to rise into the air.

The terror of the scene brought you back to your childhood, you leaned against a building keeping your breathing as calm as possible and looked around you, the horror was present again, the screams of the people made a dent inside you, you closed your eyelids as tight as possible and put your hands to your head trying to erase that sound from your mind. Your back was slowly sliding down the wall until you were sitting completely on the ruins of the building.

“Hey!” Steve’s voice sounded close to you. “Are you okay?” his question barely got an answer from you, you felt his hand resting on your shoulder. “Hey, look at me. Are you okay?” you opened your eyes again and with a terrified look on your face you nodded, looking for the strength to face it. “I need you, those people need you, I know this is crazy, I know you’re terrified, but so are they.” You looked around you contemplating the massacre. “You can help them, they are your people.”

Again, Steve’s words gave you the courage you needed to find the calm within yourself, stand up and do everything you could to stop those robots that Ultron had built and turned into his allies. You knew what your mission was, you had a mission now and you couldn’t let it paralyse you.

“Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely. The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed… walk it off.”

The population was congregated in a specific point of the city, there was no solution to evict them if that part of the city did not come down and land again, until a ship, the Helicarrier, appeared between the clouds to create a solution to one of your problems, the eviction of the population. Now all that was left to do was to get that piece of land back in place.

“Avengers, time to work for a living,” Tony announced over the intercom. While the population was getting to safety in the boats, you as a whole had gathered at the church in Novi Grad, where Ultron had located the core, or rather the button, with which he would bring the city down, destroying all of humanity.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, confused by the situation.

“This is the drill. If Ultron gets a hand on the core, we lose,” Tony replied pointing to the vibranium contraption in the centre of the shattered dome.

In front of you hundreds of robots captained by Ultron approached without stopping their pace. You sucked air into your lungs, awaiting the arrival of one of the most crucial moments of your existence, perhaps the most crucial, for in a few hours you could possibly be extinct along with humanity.

“This is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me,” Ultron also had his plan and that was. “How could you possibly hope to stop me?”

“Well, like the old man said,” Tony looked at each of you. “Together.”

The battle for survival began. You thought the previous battles you had fought were the ones that could change the course of your destiny, the ones where you had faced Tony Stark, but you couldn’t have been more wrong, that was nothing compared to what you were going through right now. Each of you was part of that team, your energy was renewed every time you used it because you were fighting for a reason, the strength in you shone through. You were all a team and you were getting through this together. One by one Ultron’s robots fell, until there were none left standing, but it wasn’t over.

“We gotta move out. Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I’ll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you,” Steve asked just after the last robot was down.

“The core-” began Tony after he had bared his face, but you barely let him finish his words.

“I’ll protect it,” you said firmly, giving a slight nod to yourself, “it’s my job.”

Tony connected his eyes with yours offering you a slight nod, just before he covered his face again and flew away. “I’ll stay with you,” added Wanda to whom you offered a faint smile before everyone disappeared from the scene and Pietro was ordered to return to you once everyone was in the boats. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, only a few straggling robots were presenting themselves to you with the intention of overthrowing your mission, but something happened. You felt your friend’s body collapse right behind you, you turned your head and saw Wanda’s face distorted, your eyes widened in confusion as she began to utter a scream that made your eardrums ring. She fell to her knees, causing her powers to spiral out of control in the crash, destroying every element in her path, so you had to create a force field around yourself in the hope that you would be unaffected. Your thoughts began to connect, trying to find an answer to his attitude, and you found it. Pietro.

You both walked through the streets, but she scattered within minutes Wanda disappeared in search of Ultron, leaving you there, but there was no one left to fight with, or fight for. It was at the very moment you questioned the functionality of your existence that Novi Grad plummeted thousands of feet into the air, offering you the answer to your question. Your eyes closed but you were no longer afraid, on the contrary, you had been able to find peace, everything came to an end in the same place where it all began. But as if someone had been watching over you, you felt arms holding your body and slowing down the frantic rhythm of the plummeting fall. You opened your eyes and found yourself being held by Iron Man’s armour.

“ I got you,” he said flying in the opposite direction, managing to dodge the ruins of that city. “Now Thor!”

A new turning point that changed the course of your actions and your destiny lay before you. Despite your best efforts, nearly 120 lives were lost during the Battle of Sokovia, including that of Pietro Maximoff. It was a before and after, symbolising the power of war and what could be its fatal consequences. For you it was a judgement, a learning experience, feeling guilty for much of what had happened, for helping HYDRA, for helping Ultron, to elaborate his actions. Your guilt led you to rethink your future, the course of new events led you and Wanda to a new country. You arrived in the United States, welcoming the New Avengers Facility as a new home. Offering you a roof to sleep under, training for your powers and a new family, though you didn’t feel that way at first.

You spent many hours in search of solitude, at the end of that green esplanade, when the tall oak trees were beginning to remind you of home. It was one afternoon in the first week, when you were still adjusting to it all, and you found yourself reading, leaning against a tree trunk.

“Hiding?” Tony’s voice pulled you out of your reading. “Oh, Sylvia Plath, great,” you looked at him, but offered no response, so he opted to sit awkwardly right in front of you on the grass. “Listen, we haven’t had much time… you know,” he took off his sunglasses and shrugged. “I’ve been looking through the files and … I know what happened to you… with your parents.”

“You know,” you said with a raised eyebrow, putting the book aside. “Do you also know what happened to the other thousands of people or do you only have a file on me and a file on Wanda and Pietro?”

The confidence in your voice was at odds with the insecurity Tony was showing, so when you saw him turn his head to the right side as he crumpled his face you opted to do what you had been thinking about for the last few days, call it a day.

“Listen. I’ve spent many years imagining what it would be like when I had you in front of me,” you began to say calmly, keeping your gaze fixed on your fingers as Tony watched you with his head cocked to one side, listening to you intently. “In what I was going to tell you, in the way I would let you know the pain I felt inside, because to me you were to blame for everything bad that had happened to me,” you paused, took a breath and thought about what you were going to say next. “But the moment I had you in front of me I didn’t say anything I had planned to say, I let my anger and pain guide me, and it didn’t do any good. The same thing happened the second time, and the third time it was pointless because there was something much more important to fight for.”

“I…” Tony interjected.

“Please, let me finish,” you cut him off, causing Tony to nod and turn his attention back to you. Sadness clouded his features. “So now I have you in front of me again I just want you to know that I have realised that…” you paused causing Tony to make a slight gesture of approaching you, but when you started to speak again he stopped. “I have no intention of you bearing my ghosts, but I need you to know that I spent two days under the rubble waiting for Stark to kill me,” your voice cracked, and Tony’s eyes reddened. “Watching your name light up on the side of that missile every time that flashing red light illuminated the darkness, hearing that beeping sound that I still can’t erase from my mind, terrified that my breathing would cause that bomb to detonate because my limbs could barely move.”

For the first time you raised your face to meet wide open brown eyes, reddened and unable to hold your gaze for long. Tony’s face was pale during those moments, his body was no longer upright and he was nervously running his hand over his lips.

“With that said, it only remains for me to let you know that I will not let the hatred and vengeance of a ten year old consume me,” you looked back down at your hands, allowing Tony’s eyes to fall on you again. “I’ve seen the power that resentment brings with it, I don’t want that for myself,” you connected your gazes. “Then I suppose I must forgive you in order to move forward.”

Silence. Silence flooded the room leaving heavy breaths in the air that symbolised the tension of the situation you were both experiencing for the first time right now. There was no right answer to everything you had said, it was clear to you that Tony didn’t know how to act at that moment. You sat cross-legged on the damp grass, watching him, seeing how he couldn’t hold your gaze since you had explained that you saw his name reflected in that missile. Yet he fought against it and focused his brown eyes on yours.

“I promise you…” he began stiffly, but again you cut him off.

“Tony, don’t promise me anything,” your voice was soft, as if you were talking to a small child. "Please.“

After your denial of his action, he only nodded. He merely nodded as he intertwined his fingers and began to fidget restlessly with his left leg.

"Then I don’t know what you want,” his tone offered an enormous insecurity marked by nervousness.

“That’s the point. I don’t want anything, Tony,” you said without fidgeting.

“All right,” he nodded confusedly, rising quickly but awkwardly from the grass in an attempt to get away from the situation. “So… I hope it’s all to your liking.”

With that said, he turned his back on you and left the same way he had come. Leaving you under the shade of that oak tree with Sylvia Plath.

Now, too much had happened since then, much of it was why you found yourself in Wakanda trying to juxtapose all that had happened, but what you didn’t know was that on that placid morning when you went for a walk along the banks of that small riverbed, Shuri and T'Challa would come to inform you that he was there and that he had asked to speak with you.

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Sam: “Has anyone seen Bucky?”

Y/N: “No, why?”

Sam: “He left another one of his erotic novels in the living room again.”

*Y/N looks up”

Y/N: “Hey, that’s my diary! Wait, did you read it?!”

Sam: “Wh-? Wait, this is your diary?”

Y/N: “Yes!!!” *taking it out of his hands*

Sam: “Okay. First of all I didn’t know it was your diary, secondly why are you leaving it in the living room? And thirdly, when are you going to bring out the sequel?”

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Will you ever make another part to Your legacy is my nightmare?

Hello! Yes, I have it in mind, but these weeks I've been busy with my studies because I'm starting new exams. Sorry, I hope to upload all the chapters I have started soon. Thank you very much for your interest. ❤

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Welcome Seaville. Chapter One. [T.S. / J.H.]

Series: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”

Prologue

Pairing: Tony Stark/Justin Hammer x Fem!Reader / Best Friend Steve Rogers

Summary: 1987. The exchange term is over, so you return to your hometown, Seaville, just before Christmas. The reunions with friends, the first day of school, everything goes back to the way it used to be.

Warnings: Insults, piques.

Word Count: 3465

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

December 1987

It would have been enough to say that this was just another ordinary Christmas in the small Maine town of Seaville, but it was not. The Christmas lights were brighter, the streets were more beautiful under the clear splendour of the moon, and the wind brought a sweet smell of sea salts that gave you a pleasant sensation. You peered through the passenger window and let the east wind envelop you and welcome you home again. Seaville was welcoming you in its entirety and you were leaving it.

It had been just four months since you had left the coast of Maine to head off to fulfil one of your many dreams, to spend a term in the French city of Paris. Nothing in your life could have compared to that singular experience, and you even hoped to return next year having been accepted to the University of Paris, but, equally, nothing could compare to the love you felt for home.

"Please roll up the window," your father insisted. "I don't want you to spend the whole Christmas holidays with the flu."

And of course nothing could compare to your dear father.

As you rounded the corner into your little residential area you could almost smell the sweet scent of hot chocolate and puffy clouds that your father had promised you when he picked you up from the airport. You got out of the car so quickly that you barely paid any attention to the bundle of suitcases your father was trying to pull out of the boot without any help.

As you had predicted, as soon as you turned the lock and opened the door, the smell of cocoa filled the whole house. You allowed yourself a few seconds to take in the view, the fireplace lit and adorned with the three corresponding boots, the Christmas tree in place, without the star on the top, as that was your job, and the coats sorted on the hanger by colour. All the same as always.

"Don't worry, I can manage," your father said almost breathlessly as he climbed the porch steps.

You laughed and grabbed one of the three suitcases that were blocking your father's path. You both closed the door behind you and followed each other into the kitchen as if it were tradition. The chocolate was still warm and the clouds had dissolved, just the way you used to like them. The conversation with your father went on for so long, explaining to him everything you hadn't wanted to tell him over the phone, or through letters, a method your father had forced you to maintain, for we should note that his job was as a literary writer, although he sometimes resorted to writing a few newspaper columns to make a little extra money.

The point is that the little family had been talking for hours on end, not realising that midnight had already passed, and that tomorrow you had to go to the institute to settle bureaucratic matters due to your return.

"Bonne nuit, chérie," your father said in a chaste French accent, kissing your forehead.

"Bonne nuit, papa," you smiled back, preparing to be reunited with your room.

Your room, which you had not yet had the pleasure of entering, was as usual, oblivious to the fact that your father had changed the quilt on your bed so you could sleep warmer. You flopped on your back on the bed, but just as a memory came to you, you quickly got up and went to the window. What your eyes beheld brought a laugh and a sense of relief and happiness, how could you not have noticed it before?

By chance of life, you were lucky enough to have discovered true friendship in the person who lived right across the street from you. When you and your father moved to Seaville, due to your mother's death 10 years ago, you chose that quiet residential neighbourhood to settle down and raise a small family. You met Steve Rogers on your first day of second grade, and from the moment you discovered you lived across the street from each other, a beautiful friendship was forged.

For ten minutes you couldn't take your eyes off the window of the house across the street, right next to yours. A large light blue cardboard covered the whole space and a few letters in capital letters decorated it with "Bon retour". Obviously you had kept Steve constantly in mind during your term away, long phone conversations and a few postcards proved it, but during the flight back you were afraid that he had forgotten about the day you were coming back, a rather stupid fear. So, with the comfort that gesture had brought you, you decided it was time to go to bed and get some rest, as the next morning was a long day ahead.

The sunbeam fell incessantly on your face, the curtains could barely block its power, you had assumed that you were not a good early riser, but that morning you woke up in a good mood, not even the strong smell of charred toast was going to take it away from you.

"Wow, nice smile," your father notified, offering you a plate with two pieces of toast blackened under raspberry jam.

"Thanks!" you took the plate and took his usual seat. "I'm looking forward to seeing Steve, and catching up with Natasha. Although I hope they've got things to tell me too. What are you doing today?"

"I have to finish the chapter of the book to hand in to the publisher," he sat down next to you. "And I also have to go to the mall to pick up a gift."

The smile on your face that morning widened, there were only two days left until Christmas, so it was obvious that the gift I was supposed to pick up would be for you. Even though you had everything planned, and had brought some presents from Paris, you still had to buy the last detail for your father.

Just then the front doorbell rang, and you realised that time had run out on you when you noticed that you were still in your pyjamas.

"Shit!" you exclaimed, taking the last bite of toast and heading upstairs. "I'll be down in five minutes!"

Just as you disappeared your father headed off to greet his visitor. You could hear Steve's voice as you hurriedly went about getting dressed, combing your hair and getting your backpack ready for class, not forgetting to grab two rolls of film to develop, but when you heard his laughter you couldn't help but laugh too, even though you had barely heard the reason for his action. You rushed downstairs and from the third step practically threw yourself onto Steve's back in a laughing embrace.

"Have you grown up? No way, let me see you," Steve scoffed receiving your customary punch on his shoulder.

"Hey, nice cartel," you arched an eyebrow pointing to his house.

"You think so?" your friend asked. "I'm glad you liked it. I spent three poster boards until I was proud of my work. "

Steve's sincerity did nothing but thank you for the small detail he'd had for you. But time was passing and you still hadn't left the house.

"Come on, guys! You're going to be late for class," your father informed you, offering you your lunch bag. You took it with a kiss on the cheek and ran after Steve, who was waiting for you by your bike in the garden. That morning you couldn't keep a smile off your face and Steve couldn't take his eyes off you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you said getting on your bike.

"You're so happy. It's not normal to see that smile at eight o'clock in the morning," Steve's comment made you laugh a little.

You both set off in the direction of the school, it usually took you ten minutes to get there by bike if you cycled at a leisurely pace, but you were still able to catch up. On the way Steve was interested in the photographs you had taken during your stay in the European city, as you had sent him some of the ones you had had time to develop. Photography was a way for you to escape, your mother had dedicated all the years of her life to the art, and perhaps it was an incentive for you to admire her.

"It's different, Paris inspires me, it's so romantic and bohemian that it's very easy to get carried away," you explained. "That doesn't mean Seaville isn't, it's... different."

Steve listened attentively to your every word, possibly one thing you both had in common was a sensitivity that you only showed when you were both alone.

It didn't take you long to realise that the school was nearby, as the amount of cars queuing at the entrance informed you of your arrival.

"Welcome back," said Steve as he entered with you through the main door leading to a long corridor lined with lockers.

You both headed towards your locker area, you didn't know why you expected anything to have changed, but everything, literally everything, was still the same.

"There you go again! Have you been deported?" that voice, which you hadn't missed, made you roll your eyes. "I had hoped that you would have climbed the Eiffel Tower and let yourself plummet. But here you are, again."

"I had hoped that one of your absurd inventions would have exploded and you would have been shot to pieces with them," you shot back with a sarcastic grin. "But not all dreams come true."

"And I had hoped that being a senior in high school you two could get along," Steve interrupted. "But I see that's impossible."

A wide wry grin on Tony's face competed with yours, but you added a snip and he countered by trying to bite your finger.

"Lovely welcome Tony," Natasha joined the group hugging you from behind, depositing a kiss on his cheek. "Wait, do I smell Parisian perfume? You haven't turned into one of those French repipes have you?"

You were grateful for Nat's presence, who was your ally against the daily struggle against Tony, for after all Steve was a neutral lynchpin in the battle. Nat shook Steve's hand and when he went to greet Tony he tried to give him a kiss on the lips, which resulted in him getting punched in the arm. The bell rang, breaking up the group, depending on which subjects you were in.

"Meet me later in the cafeteria and continue to catch up?" you commented to Steve who was going the other way with Tony.

"As always."

You gave him a parting smile, but your gaze met Tony's who blew you a kiss in the air, causing you to squint and grimace.

"And we're still catching up?" repeated Nat with a quizzical arch of his eyebrow.

"I've got a lot to tell you, and I hope you've got a lot to tell me..." you arched an eyebrow.

"It all depends on the present you brought me from Paris," replied your friend, winking at you.

You laughed, but the two of you parted ways just inside the administration offices, where a long morning of tidying up awaited you.

After two hours of filling out forms and making photocopies of the documents you had brought from the institute in Paris, you had become quite an expert. You had hoped to have an hour to spare before lunchtime to escape to the developing room to develop the film, but that seemed impossible. When the bell rang, you had barely had time to approach the room and put the film in your locker, which you had been assigned to since sixth grade when photography had become your obsession, so you made your way to the cafeteria and found your friend sitting at your table, right next to the big window overlooking the football field.

"Where were you? I was waiting for you to start eating together, but this pizza... it was tempting me," Nat took a bite of pizza like there was no tomorrow.

"If I tell you I've been reading absurd, meaningless documents all morning..." you snorted sitting down across from her and pulling out your sandwich. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be going to Paris."

"You know that's not true," Nat arched an eyebrow drawing a smile from her. "You would have gone to Paris even if you had to repeat one more grade in high school."

"Anyway, I need an update," you began, turning serious. "Has anything interesting happened while I've been away? Anyone new? Anyone who's been stirring things up?"

"New? No, anything interesting? Neither. This Seaville Murph, there's nothing going on here," Nat shrugged finishing his slice of pizza.

"I'll look for the bright side. At least I haven't missed anything," you shrugged.

"I guess you could go away for ten years and when you came back everything would still be the same," Nat looked around. "Where are the boys?"

"I'll bet you five bucks they're on the football field," you commented. "By the way, have you written the application for Brenau yet?"

"It's practically finished," your friend reported. "I'll go over it during the holidays and send it off in January. Are you ready to move to Paris next year and drive the Parisians crazy?" Natasha winked. "You haven't been hiding some movie adventure from me all this time?"

"Oh! Of course," you said wryly just as Steve and Tony made their big appearance. "Now that you mention it, as I was strolling the first evening in the Luxembourg Gardens I heard a sweet melody in the background and headed for it. There was a man playing the saxophone and I stopped to listen to him for a couple of minutes. I was so absorbed that I hardly noticed that a boy had stopped right next to me until he said 'Ne pensez-vous pas que Paris a un charme particulier?' Then I looked at him, he had the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen," you paused your story to make a false sigh. "Then we strolled until late at night, and we met every evening so that he could show me the most beautiful corners of the city. I think those were the most romantic months of my life."

Three pairs of eyes stared at you showing completely different feelings. Natasha, who was sitting opposite you, was holding back her laughter, Steve, who was standing holding his tray next to Tony, looked completely confused by what had just happened and Tony was arching an eyebrow somewhat curiously at the story. At this point neither of you two could hold it in and started laughing, snapping the boys out of their trance.

"What was that?" asked Steve sitting down next to you. "Is that true? Because it would annoy me if you hadn't told me."

"Come on! He's pulling your leg," informed Tony jokingly and taking his place next to Nat.

"Wait how are you so sure my story isn't true? Couldn't I have my romantic history with a Parisian?" you rebutted somewhat indignantly at his certainty.

"Was he blind?" Tony arched an eyebrow.

For your part you squinted, just as Tony got a jolt of shock after getting stomped under the table by Nat because of his comment. Steve's change of conversation made it easier to keep the argument from escalating, but something always happened to spoil civilised conversations. A few minutes later, Tony was struggling with the Ketchup sachet which he couldn't open to spread on his burger, such was his desperation that when he took a bite of the sachet, it burst causing the sauce to hit your dress. Nat's eyes along with Steve's widened in anticipation of the contest between the two of you.

"You're an idiot Stark!" you quickly grabbed a couple of napkins Nat offered you so you could remove the sauce before it left a mark.

"At least it matches your dress," Tony interjected, holding back a laugh.

Cursing through your teeth, you headed for the food counter with the intention that some cook would have one of her magical ideas to make the stain go away. Tony followed you without letting go of his burger, even though Steve and Nat advised him to stay quiet and sit down.

"Come on Murphy! It's hardly any different from the red fabric of the dress," he said stepping up beside you, and knowing how much you hated it when he called you that.

"How many times have I told you not to call me Murphy?" you said scrubbing the stain with soap and water.

"It's your name," she shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not my fault your parents decided to name you that."

You bit down hard on your lip so you wouldn't have to blurt out all those things that were running through your mind, and put on an act in the middle of the cafeteria. You were lucky that at that instant someone appeared and diverted Tony's attention.

"Ready for Stark debate class?" Justin Hammer, with whom you shared a few classes introduced himself to you.

"Of course Hammer. I can't wait to see you try to put your meager vocabulary together in one sentence," Tony took a bite of his burger, causing sauce to smear his mustache and chin.

"Come on Tony, you've got a lifetime to be an idiot why don't you take a day off?" Hammer smiled slightly.

You couldn't help but smile at the comment, to which Tony noticed and became uncomfortable.

"Hammer, everyone has the right to act stupid for a while, but I'm not really the one abusing that privilege," Tony took another bite of his burger. "So fuck off."

Justin Hammer had gotten what he wanted, and his success was grounded in a half-smile as he walked away, leaving Tony frustrated. Within seconds he turned to you, so you gave him a raised eyebrow.

"You don't abuse that privilege?" you asked, referring to what he had just said to Hammer. "Please, Tony..."

Your smile faded just as Tony dipped his finger into his burger, and, bathed in what little ketchup he could get his hands on, rubbed it all over your right cheek.

"You're despicable!" you exclaimed wiping your cheek.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"Don't thank me for the insult, it's always a pleasure," you cocked your head to the side and widened a fake smile leaving him alone, returning to the table.

The doorbell once again brought the lunch hour to an end. Tony followed you and jumped on Steve's back with the burger still in his hand, while you and Natasha gathered up your bags and belongings.

"Hey, what are you doing this afternoon? I thought we could all go to Barry's and catch up," you suggested to Natasha as you headed towards the lockers.

"I've got dance class, and I guess since it's the last one before Christmas it's going to run until dinner time," she lamented.

"Did someone say Barry's?" Tony slowed his pace and interjected into the conversation.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," said Steve. Barry's at 7pm?

"Nat's got dance class," you commented, opening your backpack to put your books in your locker.

"Guys, I know I'm a one-off, but you can go without me, don't worry," Natasha shrugged. "We can meet up tomorrow."

"Okay, but tomorrow you have to come with me to the mall, I'm still missing a present for my dad," you leaned in front of her.

"That means you already got mine," Tony winked at you, you hated his sudden mood swings.

"Yeah, a single ticket to the farthest place on the planet," you said, cocking your head.

"You know you'd miss me," he cut you short and you nudged him.

Oblivious to Tony, you added, "So I'll see you at Barry's this afternoon, and it's okay if you don't show up Stark."

"Believe me it's the last thing I feel like doing, but where Steve goes I go."

Taglist Open (DM) - @ravishingreid

MAIN MASTERLIST

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ladyeliot · 3 years

Photo

28th March

Good afternoon, I hope you enjoyed the week. Here I am for another Sunday with some Marvel recommendations, and while I'm at it, I'd like to comment on something.

The other day I received the first anonymous 'criticising' the fan fiction I write, I guess it won't be the last and I guess it will have happened to all of you more than once. I think that all of us who are on this social network, sharing our writings, are here for different reasons, many of them related to "fleeing" or "escaping" from our daily lives. For me, being here writing about my favourite movie/comic universe is an escape from my stressful life, it helps me to disconnect, to reduce my stress and anxiety. I know it might be a stupid thing to write, silly, but it works as a personal therapy for me. I believe that for many who are here writing, or reading, it also helps them, that's why I think that hate, rude comments or any kind of action against, what it will generate is that these people who are in TUMBLR to escape from their life, don't feel safe here. I just ask that if you don't like what people write, fine, but respect it. There are plenty of insecurities in real life, don't create them here too. Finally, I want to send all my support to all those who are here.

Love to all of you.

P.S.: I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, I'm not an English expert.

Avengers

A New Hope by @fallingfavourites

Bucky + Steve + Sam / bit of spoilers for TFATWS

Bucky Barnes

it’s ok if you forget me ✧ bucky barnes by @starrybrock

it’s ok if you forget about bucky—it’s what he deserves.

Carol Danvers

Sunset by @kram6496

Drabble

Parties and Jealousy by @sarahp-stan

[+18] Something with Carol. I need a Carol x reader where reader is making Carol jealous at one of Tony's parties so she could go home and finish what she started.

Clint Barton

December by @toomanyrobins

Clint Barton, college football star, has a new interest: Y/N Y/L/N. But with her father gone all of the time, a younger brother, and going to college, Y/N has no time for dating. Will Clint get the yes, or will life get in the way?

Johnny Storm

Satan’s Angel by @operation-619

[+18] She was hidden from the world as the age of 16 when something within her awoke. Something demonic. But she has her brother to hold onto when things start to get worse, because he’s there for her. Right?

Maria Hill

Lost by @marvels-writings

She’s lost without you, and when she finally finds you, a goodbye looms in the distance.

Natasha Romanoff

My girl by @junajackson

You and Natasha have been dating for a while, maybe it’s time for the team to find out

Pietro Maximoff

The Hearts of the Hopeless by @sunny-reys

You are utterly in love with Pietro Maximoff, but he’s an Avenger, and way out of your league. Pietro is utterly in love with Y/N L/N, but she’s an effortlessly cool S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and completely beyond him. However, they may reveal certain truths after one jealousy-filled night at a local bar.

Tony Stark

I miss you by @johnnyshellby

Inspired By: Gorgeous by Mansionz

Sam Wilson

The art of self care by @dameronology

After a long week at work, sam wilson waits for you at home

New suit by @pointbreak-odinson

Black!Reader - This fic does not have any TFAWS spoilers and (as usual) does not give a fuck about Endgame, meaning our favorite dysfunctional couple Tony and Steve are alive. Steve simply passed on the mantle.

Steve Rogers

Somewhere in 1949 by @interstellarflowers

tw: sad, depression, grief, allusion to PTSD

Valkyrie

Valkyrie ~ Queen’s Stress Relief by @captains-simp

[+18] Established fwb (kinda) relationship, dom!Valkyrie, spanking, degrading, oral, strap on

116 notes · View notes

ladyeliot · 3 years

Note

please keep your fan fiction out of the main tag it’s a pain to scroll through and the last thing i wanna see

I'm sorry, I have no idea what you mean, I really don't. Can someone explain it to me? I'm sorry if anything has upset you.

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ladyeliot · 3 years

Photo

Fragile [2/3]

Part One

Based on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Who would have thought that fate would bring you face to face with your father's killer? 13 years old, an orphan girl who was taken under the protection of the United States, who was educated to serve the nation and who was now assigned by the CIA to guard what was once one of the most dangerous men in the world.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, psychological problems, violence.

Word count: 3981

A/N: Post Endgame. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

The city of sin is empty, and so are you. There is no one around you to judge you. The rhythm of their heartbeat seems to take over your body, it seems to lure you into the darkness, into which you have already entered. You have been alone for so long that you can barely remember when you felt a caress. The lights seem to blind you as they fall on your skin through the window panes, you can't see clearly where you're going, or what your next move is going to be, but there's something that grabs you, that compels you to kiss his skin. You look into his eyes, offering yourself, inviting him to love you. You look around you, drowning in the night, but there he is, the only person who can ignite you with a caress.

The Japanese restaurant across the street from your building was the place selected for the date that Bucky had worked so hard to set you up with, but after you saw him show up on your doorstep with the most charming bouquet of orange tulips you'd ever seen in your life you didn't care where he planned to take you. The place was quite popular in the neighbourhood, so that night most of the tables were packed with diners, a fact that seemed to make your companion uncomfortable as you walked into the establishment.

"Would you rather we went somewhere else?" you asked when you saw his gaze sweep over the place.

"No, it's fine," he stepped forward, heading to a free table that was quite far away from the others.

"You know, I don't remember ever having tasted Japanese food," you said, sitting down across from him. "I guess you'll have to walk me through this."

A complicity intensified as Bucky flashed a smile, lowering his gaze in response to the comment you had just made. Your eyes lit up, creating a visual conformity as he raised his countenance again and focused his eyes on you. It was at that precise moment that you discovered that beneath the blue mantle of his iris were small greyish flecks. You had arrived in this place almost three months ago, in this Brooklyn neighbourhood full of charming Asian culture, and you had never felt more at home than you did at that moment. You knew every detail of the life of the boy sitting in front of you, every detail that the government had wanted to give you, but you realised that you didn't really know anything about him at all.

It was a long two minutes in which you spent inspecting the person in front of you. He was wearing a black denim-style jacket, a black T-shirt that seemed to match the jeans you remembered he was wearing, and of course his black leather gloves, the ones you assumed he wouldn't take off all night. You rested your elbow on the table and dropped your chin into the palm of your hand without taking your eyes off his for a second. Bucky's jaw was slightly stiff, his lips were pursed waiting for you to say something and his expression was highlighted by a frown. You held it in for a few seconds until again your mouth curved up in a smile causing laughter to erupt from within you, causing a blush to rise up Bucky's cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked doubtful of the cause of your smirking laughter.

"Nothing," you said sincerely, shaking your face as your laughter died down and you took the menu of dishes in your hands. "What do you recommend?"

"I don't know," he said repeating your same gesture and hiding his face behind the paper.

"I thought you were a regular," you commented ignoring the variety of dishes and put the menu down so you could look at him again. "What about the nigiris?"

"The truth is that whenever I come here it's always Yori who decides what to eat," he commented pulling the paper away from his face leaving you to stare at his uneasy countenance again.

"Wow... do you think we should call him for dinner recommendations?" you whispered making Bucky blush again as he chuckled.

"I think we can manage," he commented looking back at the list of dishes.

But really your attempt to make a varied selection of Japanese cuisine was in vain when the young waitress approached you both and you decided on a random selection based on the most curious names you had found, so that after she left you were once again alone in front of each other. You noticed that in those long weeks that you had unexpectedly coincided Bucky had never made a comment about his past, it was obvious that he took it for granted that you knew who he was, everyone seemed to know who he was.

"Can I be frank with you?" you asked, playing with the small vase in the middle of the table.

"Please," he replied, giving way to your question.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem nervous enough to have dated girls before, you know," you commented in a delicate tone avoiding scaring him away. "Is this your first date in... this long?"

Bucky's nostrils flared as he averted his gaze to the side and took a breath.

"Well... yeah, you could say that," he replied turning his focus back to you as his fingers played. "I've been trying... God, what's the name of the app?"

"Tinder?" you suggested arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, that," he nodded as his eyes widened in surprise. "It's crazy, that's not meant for me, it's like how am I going to find someone there? I don't know."

"I know," you laughed at his facial expression. "I tried it once, but I had a bad experience."

"What happened?" you inquired curiously as the waitress brought the first dishes to share along with the two beers you had ordered.

"I was supposed to meet a blond guy, curly hair, strong build, light eyes, about thirty or thirty-five, supposed to be British," you began as you took a sip of your beer. "All right, I was in the bar waiting for him to arrive, obviously we were meeting in a public place, we said to wear specific clothes so we could easily recognise each other, although I thought it was a bit absurd as I had seen pictures of him. By the time a completely different guy from the description I just gave you stood next to me, wearing a red tie and introducing himself as Matthew, I picked up and left."

"Are you sure that app is legal?" he asked when you finished telling the story.

"Sometimes I ask myself the same question too."

The atmosphere seemed to envelop you over the course of the dinner, Bucky tilting his face whenever you recounted any of your experiences, which were yours, not the character you had created to conduct your research. The comfort was so pleasant inside you that you even felt guilty on several occasions that he didn't know who you really were, a CIA agent sent to keep him under control. Even though it would have the worst consequences for you, for your career and you could never be willing to throw it all away, at least you had never been willing or thought about it until now. Although it had also been a long time since you'd felt like this.

"So...?" you arched your eyebrows with a lopsided smile, waiting for his honest answer.

"A hundred and six," he replied finishing his second beer.

"And I was complaining about the guy who showed me up on that Tinder date, because he was fifty-three," Bucky ducked his gaze somewhat nervously, as you shrugged. "You really are a fascinating guy, Bucky Barnes."

Those words were the most sincere thing you'd said since the night began, plus they brought with them a fresh batch of knowing glances between the two of you, where seconds ticked by, no one said anything and the din of laughter and surrounding conversations seemed to subside above you. You discovered that you weren't curious to find out if everything in those documents was true or not, if he really was the monster they were trying to make you believe. What really mattered to you and why you were curious about him, you wanted to find out for yourself who he really was, his experiences, his future plans, if he was lost, if he was afraid, you didn't want answers to the morbid questions they used to ask him, you wanted to know Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier.

That was the first time you had ever been on a date, with all its letters, rarely had you reached dessert before you had slept with the guy in front of you, rarely had you felt so comfortable chatting with someone, rarely had you laughed so much and stayed until the place closed.

"You're in the 21st century, do you know that women can pay for dinner and we can buy if we want to?" you said approaching the bar and taking your wallet out of your purse.

"Please," he determined almost in a plea as he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers.

"All right," you raised your arms, heading for the exit door. "I'll pay for the drinks.

As you stepped outside you could feel Bucky's eyes on you through the glass of the restaurant as he was waiting for the extra money/change. It was a pretty cold night in March, but no one really seemed to care because it seemed like everyone had gone outside to enjoy the Saturday night. You heard behind you the tinkling of a little bell and Bucky was perched next to you, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Well, where..." you started to say before a voice cut you off.

A whistling sound coming from somewhere near you tried to get your attention, but it wasn't until you looked up that you saw a tiny face peering through a window on the first floor of your building.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, tapping Bucky's chest and pointing at Yori who was waving at you.

"Oh gosh..." commented Bucky raising his hand in greeting.

"How was the date?" your neighbour asked raising his tone so he could reach you.

"Great Yori!" you exclaimed trying to let him hear you from the first floor of your building. "Bucky is such a gentleman! They don't have men like that these days!"

You didn't see it, but your companion had no idea where to put himself at that moment, his hand on the back of his neck and his uncomfortable glances around as he blushed gave him away. You raised your arm to wave goodbye to Yori who was saying goodbye as he said something, but it barely reached your ears. Bucky simply nodded showing an awkward smile on his face.

"Come on," you laughed tugging on the lapel of Bucky's jacket causing him to start walking aimlessly.

"Where are we going?" he asked walking beside you.

"I don't know," you shrugged without stopping walking. "I'll remind you that I'm just a tourist, I've been in New York for three months and I've barely left the neighbourhood. But I think you know it a lot better than I do," you bumped his body with yours in a friendly way.

"I don't agree. You may be a tourist in New York, but I'm a tourist in the 21st century world," he commented, hitting you back with his elbow.

"In that case... let's discover New York together," you smiled, and he smiled back, letting you know that he was enjoying the evening as much as you were.

"There," your companion raised his chin, gesturing slightly towards the narrow building looming above you.

"There?" you asked, arching your eyebrows in surprise at what he was telling you.

"Fourth floor," he continued speaking without looking at you, resting his eyes on the place he was describing. "It was a tiny flat, I could get from the kitchen to the bedroom by just jumping up and down. If I opened the window at night, the smell of mozzarella from Nicollini's came in. It was an Italian restaurant," he paused thoughtfully, perhaps wistfully. "Wow... I didn't come here until now."

You stood parallel to Bucky, his eyes seemed to appear brighter than usual, the light from the streetlight allowing you to take in every feature of his face. You were silent for a couple of minutes while he seemed to be distant from the place, obscured in his thoughts, in his past. The time you had spent with him had not allowed you to see him like this at any time, he used to keep his emotions very much in check, not allowing anyone to glimpse them, only letting you see the shame or confusion when he spoke to you.

"So... when was the last time you were here?" your volume was soft, trying not to interrupt him too much, but upon hearing your voice, he fell into your presence and began to pace.

"Maybe... in 1943, just before I left for Europe," he cleared his throat, undoing the knot that had formed in his throat.

It was in that precious moment that you realised how hard and complex his situation must really be. Bucky Barnes was all alone in the world, all his knowledge of his old present was of little use to him now, it might be the city where he grew up but nothing was the same anymore. He also had to live with his legacy, the legacy HYDRA left him. Silence flooded around you, however, it was not a complicit silence, it was an uncomfortable silence, caused by the situation you had just lived.

"My father died when I was thirteen," you didn't know why, but that confession came from inside you, Bucky turned his face and focused his attention on you. "My mother had abandoned us when I was five, so when my father died I was all alone."

"I'm sorry," Bucky whispered making you realise he was really sorry when you looked at his face.

"It happens," you shrugged. "I guess that makes us feel luckier when we find someone we connect with."

That was the first time you looked away blushing as you met Bucky's smile, but he kept his eyes fixed on you. The two of you had made your way to an aimless spot, letting the night fall on you by the riverbank.

"Answer me something, when was the last time you enjoyed the New York night?" you said looking at him, as behind him you could see a wonderful view of the island of Manhattan.

"New York night..." he said looking down thoughtfully. "Well, I remember the last night I spent in New York, my best friend Steve and I went to see The Stark exhibit along with two girls," he turned his gaze to the horizon, "Connie and Bonnie, I think their names were."

"Your girlfriends?" you asked curiously delving into the story.

"Not exactly," he laughed looking at you, "it was like a double date, but they weren't our partners. Those times were more complicated, you know," you nodded and waited silently for him to continue the story. "I had planned for the four of us to go dancing, but Steve was not very receptive, he had other things on his mind, so I ended up going dancing with the two of them by myself.

"Wow, what do you know..." you arched an eyebrow causing Bucky to blush with laughter, gazing at the lights coming from Manhattan. "That means you're quite the expert dancer."

"Not exactly, I mean, maybe in... in the past, it's possible, but..." he didn't know how to express himself, his words were hindering him.

"Show me," you interrupted taking him by surprise.

"Uh?" he asked stopping his steps and frowning.

"Come on, it's time for me to be the one to get out of your time. I have no idea how to dance..." you pointed out, making him understand that you didn't know how to dance in a couple. "Please."

Your companion took a breath as you presented him with the palm of your hand inviting him to take it right in the middle of a small riverside park. Bucky was hesitant but your lower lip bitten by your teeth and your pleading eyes made him definitely decide to hold your hand and accept the challenge. The triumph was depicted on your face, which made it easy for Bucky to oblige by flashing you a smile.

"You're really testing me tonight," he murmured, slowly approaching you.

You first felt the roughness of his leather gloves as his left hand took yours to mark a closer position. Your bodies were close, too close, you could hear his raised breathing and see the mist of your breath connecting. Bucky gently placed his hand on your waist, but nothing else happened, you looked at each other, with a very uncomfortable smile.

"This is weird," he muttered, wrinkling the expression on his face.

"Why?" you looked around you, it was lonely. "There's no one."

"I know," he looked up. "There's no one, there's no music."

"Sing," you said quickly with a laugh, making Bucky laugh too as he shook his head. "I would, but I don't know any songs of the time."

"I don't plan to sing," he decreed without barely moving an inch away from you.

"Then use your imagination," you whispered lowering your gaze for a second, meeting his neck at eye level.

As if time had rushed backwards you were caught in a completely different place, the yellowish light of the street lamps above you and behind you a Manhattan skyline set the perfect mood for the moment. The hand that was perched on your waist began to subtly exert pressure, guiding you to imitate the movement of his feet that he had begun. Embarrassed by your clumsiness you quickly lowered your gaze to his feet to try to imitate what he was doing more accurately.

"Look at me, don't look at my feet," he sentenced with a small laugh. "Look at my eyes."

And you did, so much so that you did, letting yourself be enveloped by their blue, making you blush because of the proximity to them. It was strange, perhaps it was much stranger to you than it was to him, as you bit your lower lip hard trying to escape the awkwardness and embarrassment. How could a moment that could look completely ridiculous from the outside feel so intimate on the inside?

"When was the last time you danced with a girl?" you whispered, trying to keep the situation not too intimate.

"I think it was in London," he replied without stopping his movements. "When I was on leave."

But as he finished his answer you again found yourself under those piercing blue eyes trying to maintain eye contact with you. Again you caught your lower lip between your teeth, thinking of a new question to ask him. Bucky had taken control of the situation, something you weren't used to, and that made you feel alert, he knew it, for the first time he seemed to be in control of the situation, and that was your fault, you had given it to him when you said to teach you to dance.

"Are you alright?" he whispered in front of you with a half smile to which you nodded forcing a smile.

Just as you finished your nod you felt Bucky press harder against your waist and pressed his body against yours leaving your forehead pressed against his cheek. His scent wafted into your nostrils, drifting into your brain, projecting a pleasure that made you close your eyes and let yourself be completely carried away. You accepted that you wouldn't last an hour in the 40s in a dance hall, the second you'd fall at the feet of any young man like Bucky. You didn't know if it was your imagination, because right now you had entered an alternate universe, or if Bucky was humming some tune, but you heard it, you heard how your subtle movements had music.

"And..." you parted your lips, pulling your forehead away from his cheek, trying to formulate a question that didn't come because you felt the melody stop, realising that it was Bucky who was asking it.

His face with a sweet smile on it paralysed you, making you come out of the bubble that had been created around you, feeling guilty for the situation that you yourself had provoked. What the hell were you doing? He was your mission, everything was getting out of context, it had gotten completely out of hand and you needed to stop it as soon as possible. You shook your face, trying not to be too rude to him, and you broke the proximity between the two of you. Bucky didn't understand what had happened, because within a second the happiness was wiped from his face, showing some concern for your actions.

"I'm sorry," he said, raising his hands subtly by way of caution. "If I've done anything inappropriate..."

"No!" you exclaimed shaking your head smiling at his apology. "It's just... I think we should get back, we still have a long way to go and I wanted to get up early tomorrow."

"Of course," the disappointment you saw on Bucky's face almost broke your soul.

The walk home was too stealthy, and that made you uneasy. You couldn't stop replaying over and over the moment in your mind, the feel of his hand on your waist, the proximity to his body, your scent, and the warmth of your forehead against his cheek. It was torture, because on the other hand you felt extremely guilty for violating all the clauses of your job by entering into this kind of relationship with Bucky. It was suffocating, you felt almost breathless inside. Firstly, you should have started by refusing the proposal to go out for dinner, and secondly, if you did go out for dinner, you should have gone straight home, no dancing and no further conversation. In the midst of all these thoughts, you arrived home.

"Please," he said, offering you first the way into the building.

"Thank you," you mumbled without looking at him.

The walk to the third floor began, you had never realised that there were so many steps and so steep until you reached the door of your house, it seemed like a climb up Mount Everest and the worst thing was that Bucky lived right in front of you, on the same landing. You amused yourself rummaging through your purse for your house keys, avoiding having a conversation until you arrived right in front of the door.

"Well..." you started to say by way of an awkward goodbye.

"Again, if I've done anything to upset you..." Bucky repeated again with a gesture of concern.

"Really, Bucky, it's been... great," you concluded, smiling kindly at him. "I promise."

"All right," he ducked his face, not entirely convinced by your answer. "So, good night Susan."

"G-good night Bucky."

Susan? Of course, that was you to him, all a lie.

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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hi can i pls be included in the taglist... thankyou so much!

Of course! You are already added to my Taglist. 🧡

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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The nearness of you. Chapter Two [B.B]

When she met him masterlist

All of me. Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader [Michelle]

Summary: While you try to live a new life in West Berlin, forgetting your past, the Winter Soldier can't forget you as he carries out his missions.

Warnings: Murder. Mentions of violence.

Word count: 3075

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

West Berlin, June 1954

The last few weeks had been the ideal of aspiration that any girl would wish to live in her youth. That was the phrase you symptomatically repeated to yourself every morning when you woke up and looked at yourself in the mirror. However, Berlin was not a paradise to start fulfilling your dreams, let alone to start a life as a couple. The fact that you had been hanging around the most select and exquisite clubs in the area did not take away the fact that it was an occupied city after a world war that had lasted 6 years and 1 day, and that it had to be shared with the opposite side. The images of the chinks in the conflict that appeared before your eyes every morning made an impression on you. You had barely been living in Germany for a month and you felt that your work was minimal compared to that of other women.

You looked calmly at your hands, especially that finger that you had thought would contain a ring a couple of weeks ago, when you had celebrated your birthday together. However, that moment never came and you began to question whether you were really playing the right role in your life. There was no lack of champagne, no lack of jewellery, no lack of kisses, no lack of nights of passion, so you told yourself that there was nothing to worry about. Moreover, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, things were moving forward without you present, for every week your dear friend Nancy would update you on your mother and Charles, to whom she had definitely become engaged. At such a discovery your emotions clashed in a battle of happiness and anger, happiness for the fact that two of the most important people in your life had found love, and anger for several reasons, the first being that you had not been present with them and the second that you had not been able to share the same news yourself. On the other hand, you had barely been able to maintain contact with your mother. You had assumed that the pain your departure had caused her was terrible for her, and it was acceptable that she did not want to answer your calls. The situation made you feel sick inside, imagining having lost her husband in Europe because of the war, and now having lost her daughter because of your departure to Germany, it was logical how bitter her mother must have been.

"... one of the most charming and talented voices to settle in this city", Richard's voice sounded in the distance.

You lifted your gaze which had become lost in your own thoughts and with a falsely unfounded joy you took a puff on your cigarette and smiled at each of your partner's friends sitting around you. Like every night, it was your turn to be present at Richard's long, boring meetings. Occasionally you could count on some female company, probably a companion of one of the generals, who at most talked banalities with you, but that night there was only male company.

"Darling, I think I'll retire to my room," you whispered in his ear, hoping to get rid of the atmosphere as soon as possible.

"Would you like me to join you?" he asked, instantly stubbing out his cigarette.

"Oh, don't bother," you got up from your seat and grabbed the sling. "I just want to take a hot bath and get into bed to rest," you placed your lips on his. "Enjoy your night."

"Okay, sweetheart," he kissed you again.

The racket that broke out as your figure walked away from the table reached your ears.

It was inevitable that your thoughts of guilt would arise in situations like these, when loneliness found you and you were in a world of your own. You had faced complicated experiences throughout your life, which were only forgotten when you got on stage and managed to express all your feelings in those lyrics. The music comforted you, it showed who you really were.

As you got into the lift you closed your eyes, waiting for that moment when your feet would rest bare on the carpet of the room, your dress would show your nakedness and your body would get into the hot water of the bathtub. But the only thing you felt when you dropped into the warmth of the bathtub were those blue eyes staring at you from afar, sitting on the bar of the 'Central Club'.

For as long as you can remember, every time you prostrated yourself before a stage and a large crowd, you were curious to discover what the many gazes before you were hiding. What were they hiding? What were their lives like? Each one of them was different, each one of them expressed a series of feelings and hid others. However, that one left a trace in you. It was not at all difficult to find him night after night in the crowd, he always occupied the same seat, he always disappeared after the first song, but there he was night after night, watching you, captivating you from the left flank of the hall. He wore the uniform of a private in the American army, you had made up your own story about him, maybe he was a soldier, he had just been sent to Germany from Kansas, his father had fought in the Battle of the Atlantic and you wanted to honour him. Whatever his story was, you wanted to discover it and you knew that nothing could stop you.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Berlin.

For the past couple of weeks his mission had been to maintain contact with the west side of Berlin, while remaining unnoticed by the soldiers and officers, both American and British, who had been sitting in the western part of the German city. His procedure had changed, however, and a departure from the other days was about to take place. His knowledge of the area was almost self-evident, he knew their most frequented locations, as well as the connections of the officers and superiors of both nations. He knew their activities and which of them had the most to lose and deserved the most, so it could be said that the orders given to the soldier had been carried out with high expectations and HYDRA knew it.

The young private was walking through the streets of the village, the sun was beating down, but there was still life in the village. A group of children no more than eight years old were hiding in the barricade of wooden crates he had formed, the soldier passed them and at that very moment they rose to shoot him with an imaginary weapon they held in their hands. Their feet stopped and a stern glance was automatically directed at them, who soon fled in terror at the gesture. Those impassive blue eyes turned back to the front to continue on their way to the Concordia Hotel club, mostly known for its variety shows offered to a purely male audience.

Like every Wednesday night, the main lounge was open to British and American soldiers, where alcohol was drunk and poker games were played until the early hours of the morning. It was casual to find men from the upper echelons mixed in the crowd, for they were the main procurers of the fortunes at stake on those nights. The soldier entered with little trouble, marking his territory by looking around, hoping to find someone who would capture his full attention, but he never arrived. He knew she was staying there, he had seen her come and go on more than one occasion with the expensively dressed civilian.

In the centre of the stage a girl in full figure-hugging clothes was trying to attract the attention of the men in the room, but he was hardly interested in her. He approached the bar and ordered a brandy, waiting for the right moment to carry out his mission. The stuffy atmosphere, especially the smoke from the cigarettes and cigars, made him sick, he could hardly focus his attention on the figures seated around the tables, and the noise didn't make it any easier either. A British sergeant he had met a couple of nights ago raised his hand to salute him from across the room, but he gave him a slight nod and remained seated there.

As the minutes, and later the hours, passed, he came to the conclusion how alcohol can really affect a person's physical and mental capacity. He discovered it not with himself, but with those people he had not ceased to contemplate. To her right, almost to the exclusion of the crowd, was a round table of British officers and only one gentleman, not in uniform, was her partner.

"Gentlemen, you know I cannot give you the answer you seek," laments came from the mouths of the three British officers. "What kind of a man would I be if I revealed one of my beautiful partner's many qualities?

"Come on Miller, who are you kidding?" asked a dark-haired officer as he took a puff on his cigar. "That I've known you for years."

The four of them burst into laughter at the same time, still keeping their cards hidden. In the centre of the table stood a large amount of bets they had been placing throughout the night, and the soldier did not know where they had come from.

"You really have brought with you the woman with the most beautiful lips in all of New York," asked one of the participants. "What are your plans for her? Will she last longer than the last one? What was her name? Astrid?"

"No, that was Rebecca, the one with the lush breasts," the third in discord added to the conversation. "Now that was a woman, her gifts did not go unnoticed."

Again they laughed at the same time. At that moment the soldier, still seated in front of the mud, took a sip of his second drink of the night.

"To tell you the truth, I think my fortune has come with her," said the out-of-uniform civilian as he took a letter, "and I mean in many respects. It's inevitable not to recognise the charm in her voice, I think she has a lot of talent and I think she has possibilities."

"Of her talents there is no doubt," the jocular tone was apparent among his companions providing amusement to the matter again. "Were you the first to discover them, Richard?"

"What do you think, Alfred?" the man pulled his cigarette away from his lips and arched an eyebrow, creating suspense among his friends. "A young girl, a New Yorker, an only child, from a good family, who had just been accepted to NYU and hadn't left the city. I think that's more than obvious.

The dark-haired officer delivered a blow to the back of Richard, who seemed to feel as if he had just deposited a decoration on his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, the soldier was watching the scene to his right, impassively concentrating on his newly refilled brandy snifter. His jaw stiffened at the words that came in a steady stream through his ears.

"Miller, don't tell us about his life, you know what we're interested in," reacted one of the members. "I didn't remember you being so haughty, perhaps the trip to America has taken its toll.

"Dear Arthur, just tell me what you wish to hear and I will fulfil your requests," the gentleman jokingly replied as he stubbed out his cigarette. "You know I would never let you down," he said.

"Don't say that twice." Alfred laughed, taking a card from the deck.

"Alright," he nodded lighting a new cigarette which he took out of the box. "Let's start with her lips, since you mentioned them. If what you really want to know is the way her virgin lips run over every part of me, I must tell you that you would never think that those red lips had ever rested on anyone."

The soldier clenched his metal fist, which was kept hidden under a glove, as he surprised himself by remembering the image of those lips within earshot of the microphone a couple of weeks ago. The conversation became increasingly coarse until it reached a point where he was explaining in detail the gestures and sounds the young woman made at her moment of pleasure. The soldier clenched his jaw tighter in anger at those words, at that very moment a cracking sound was heard in front of him and a burning sensation began to emerge in the palm of his hand. It took him a few moments to realise that the force exerted by his fingers had caused the glass of the cup to fracture and cut his skin. He hardly said anything about the situation, nor did the waiter notice, as the number of people in the room kept him somewhat busy. He removed the glass embedded in his own flesh and took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his hand.

Not more than ten minutes passed when two of the latent officers in the poker game rose to their defeat, so after saying goodbye they continued on their way to the exit door. The soldier hid from them with his back to them and with a sea of doubts in his mind, for he desired more the prey that lay before his eyes still seated at that round table, the one called Richard. Nevertheless, he decided not to reject this good opportunity offered by destiny, so he walked briskly after them, hiding both hands in his trouser pockets. Outside there was a placid relief after two hours in the dreary hall, the officers stood on the pavement in front of the roadway waiting, presumably, for a car to come for them. The soldier mimicked the gesture, but always keeping a few feet away.

"If I told you the number of times it had crossed my mind to smash his face in, you couldn't count them on your own hands," the brown-haired British officer nodded as he listened.

"Don't worry Arthur, I don't think you'll be the first or even the last one to think that."

Yellow headlights approached from the far side of the road, it was barely midnight, yet it was not a very busy area. The car stopped in front of the door, and both gentlemen after finishing their cigarettes opened the doors and stepped inside. The soldier waited for both of them to take their seats and the car to start so he could carry out his mission, which was all tied up with threads, however the dark-haired man, before closing his own door, became aware of his presence.

"Hey, soldier!" he called out from his seat. "Do you want us to take you somewhere?"

The young man blinked slowly, taking in the information and processing it for his own benefit.

"Thank you very much colonel," he approached the car.

"Come on, get in the front and we'll drop you off wherever you say," the officer reported again, closing the back door.

The soldier thanked them again for the offer and informed them that he was going to a suburb of West Berlin. In those moments he was fascinated by the facilities that lay before him that night, after that moment when he thought he had lost his own control inside the premises. His mind worked quickly, making connections between the events that were generated and his orders offered by his superiors. He formulated a map of the route he was to follow according to the direction given, and waited five minutes until they reached one of the less crowded streets of the place. The officers were engaged in an unrelated conversation until they asked him about his fortune that night.

"I hope it gets better," said the soldier with hardly a hint of interest in his words.

"I take your words soldier, I have lost a great deal of money tonight," the dark-haired officer replied. "Though I suppose it would be better with a young lady by my side. Do you have one waiting for you?"

"Not my priority sir," he argued.

Both occupants laughed at this response, and began to talk to each other again, leaving him aside, which he was grateful for, as he had to keep all his senses focused on the road. He watched the driver out of the corner of his eye, inspecting his every move, and then noted that there were only a few yards to go before they reached their destination.

Darkness fell over them, for they had left the city centre behind them, and there was barely a glimmer of light on the street. Before them lay a new paradigm that the soldier had forged in his head to carry out his mission. The road became narrower, with a series of curves that brought their journey to an end. Cold sweat broke out on every part of his body, as the thunderous laughter inside the car rumbled in his head. He looked to his left at the driver who barely seemed to realise what was about to happen, his full attention was drawn to his hands, which were gripping the steering wheel tightly, and then he looked down at his own, one of them wrapped in a bloody handkerchief and the other of them under a black glove. He hid his wounded hand in his pocket, for he did not wish to leave any marks on the spot, while with the other in a flash he brought it to the driver's neck, causing him to run out of air on the spot. He quickly hit his right leg, which gave him an increase in speed, and then swerved, sending the car crashing into the face of a ruined building.

The sensation he felt in that millisecond was unheard of, but it was the first of many that he would come to feel and that decades later would barely let him sleep.

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