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soulgazingwithbucky · 1 year

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Details (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Maybe you and Bucky just weren't meant to be. Alpine (dis)respectfully disagrees.

Based on a prompt from this generator: "Y/N and Bucky break up, but they have a pet and neither of them want to give it up. Then they spend a few days each with the pet separately. But it kinda helps them get together again."

Warnings: mentions of food & alcohol

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Writing this fic taught me that the Venn diagram of romantic flowers and things toxic to cats is a circle. I wrote this listening to Trust by Brent Faiyaz radio on Spotify, so I have no choice but to share it for any other hip hop/R&B fans <3 If you find yourself enjoying this, feel free to check out my other works here <3

You were the sun up above, he was fallen snow.

You were the beauty of flower petals, he was the strength of tree roots.

You were a song belted out loud, he was comfortable silence.

It took you a while to fall in love with Bucky Barnes. But,

as they say,

good things come to those who wait.

You were big picture, he was details. You were looking too broadly; he slipped between the cracks. You crept into every corner of his brain until it was an overfilled balloon. Oh, how he had pined until you finally saw him as he saw you. It was torture, those few months before you took his hands in yours, leaning in for that first kiss that ignited every nerve in his body.

The more time you spent with him, the more certain you felt about his psychic abilities. He knew you so well, like he was reading your thoughts. Or seeing the future. Was it an effect of the serum? But he indulged you in his secret: he just paid a painful amount of attention.

When you scratched your throat, he would get you a glass of water. Always three ice cubes.

When you shifted in your seat, he would take your leg and message it, pressing firm circles into the back of your calves.

When your eyebrows scrunched and made that little crease in between, he would kiss it. When he pulled away, it was gone.

He was details.

You mused that he should reserve that expertise for saving the world. He left a flutter of kisses on your knuckles, telling each finger that he would have no better use of his skills than to keep you happy.

You were grander than life. He was sure that if you had been the one alive for a century, you would have lived each year to its fullest. He looked up to you, his idol, his inspiration.

The sound of tape unraveling broke you out of your stupor.

Loud, screeching, sudden.

A fitting call back to reality.

Bending at the knee, Bucky gingerly placed the box in front of you. You knew he could’ve lifted and dropped it with just his pinky finger; it would’ve been the equivalent of you dropping a sheet of paper.

But he was always so considerate of you. Your feelings.

Your reactions.

You.

“I think that’s the last one,” he told you. A lie. He knew it was the last one.

“Thank you,” you said, staring at the box, rotating it to find the cutout handles.

CLOTHES, he had scribbled on every side in thick sharpie, the writing comically large. He was thinking of you, in your new home, surrounded by replicas of the same brown cardboard box. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you.

It, the situation he had put you both in.

You were larger than life. But he had made you feel smaller than an atom. Like a child's once overused coat that now collected dust in the back of a dark closet.

Your name, so tender on his gruff tongue, drew you out of your thoughts.

You kept your face stony. You didn’t dare think what it had betrayed when you dove into the recesses of your mind.

“Sorry,” you spoke.

“Don’t be,” he murmured. Stay, he thought.

You stood, rummaging in your pocket. Well, his pocket. His sweatpants. You acted like you forgot they were his; he acted like he forgot, too. At least some part of him would still be with you.

A silver key emerged in your outstretched hand. His finger twitched. You noticed that.

He taught you to.

Then he reached out, closing the space between the two of you. His fingers curled over yours, ridding the key from sight.

“Keep it,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“Shared custody,” was his attempt to lighten the mood. As if on cue, Alpine rounded the corner.

you summoned, dad? she seemed to say, grazing the doorway as she made her way over.

Be strong, you had demanded earlier, pointing at yourself accusingly in the rearview mirror. Do not give in. Don’t let him see you falter.

But this beautiful, aggravating, wonderful cat was your whole world (surpassing Bucky, you made sure to tell him regularly), and you felt the tears well up. You thought you had finally run out. What an awful time to find you were wrong.

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure,” he said firmly. “I-”

The syllable lingered in the air. He had to be strong, for you. It was the least he could do. He brought this on himself, and he had to see it through. He had no idea how to balance the whole hero thing and being in love thing. He had never done it before. What an awful way to find out he did everything wrong.

He would never forget the day the straw broke the camel’s back. He had told you he needed to reschedule your Saturday date, not knowing the day you had planned out. But Wakanda had requested his and Sam’s presence at a UN meeting; you both knew they seldom called in favors from him. Your lip quivered in failed restraint until you abruptly stood up, nearly toppling over the takeout containers on your lap. Everything poured out of you in that moment, loud and endless and angry. Bucky had shut down, staring straight ahead with hardened eyes until you grabbed your things and left.

He was details. He was a quick pick-me-up after a hard day at work. He was a quiet back rub during a feel-good movie. He was a gentle reminder about that one errand you could never seem to remember.

He wasn't big picture. He wasn't a step back to see the writing on the wall. He wasn't the pieces coming together. He wasn't the painful realization of you weren't happy. Not until it was too late, anyway.

“I'll walk you to your car,” he offered. He hesitated before picking up a few boxes. Don’t be stupid, James. Don’t hope for her to change her mind. “Get the door, doll? Sorry. Could you...get the door, please?”

You managed to nod, though you felt as if every bone in your body had merged into one. You opened the door and watched him walk away with your life in a few measly boxes.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, dragging in several bags of groceries. You harped on him for having a total of three items in his refrigerator, and stopped your movie night to go to the grocery store at 10pm. The clerks were not happy with you.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, gingerly holding Alpine in her carrier. He did let you hold one thing that time- Alpine’s medication. You both loved her too much to let Bucky carry anything else but her, especially after the scare she had put you both through.

“Get the door, doll?” he had said, muffled over the armfuls of flowers, chocolates, and balloons. Your last Valentine’s together, though neither of you knew it would carry that title. You had laughed at the ridiculous sight of wine bottles tucked into his back pockets.

“I'm sorry,” he said after loading the last of the boxes into your car. He left enough space in the middle seat for you to still use your rearview mirror.

“Don’t,” you whispered. You had had enough of empty apologies. So do something about it. So end it if you wanted to focus on work. So ask Sam to enlist the help of literally any other superhero. Dr. Banner could get it done in, like, five seconds, you once huffed.

“But I am.”

You knew he was. And that made everything worse. The deadly Avenger with the unstoppable arm, capable of defeating Outriders and Flag Smashers. But to you, just your sweet and gentle Bucky. Your sweet, gentle Bucky, who revealed a side to you that no one else got to see. The hero of incredible strength, who held you like you were the lightest of feathers.

You knew that this was as new a world to him as it was to you. You had many a mirror pep talk reminding yourself of this. But you couldn’t help that empty feeling. You became a longing glance at other couples, kissing and hugging and laughing, while you sat in the empty booth. Another last-minute mission for your mighty hero meant another drink for you, liquid in your cup deterring the glistening in your eyes. You became a forced smile, an ongoing habit at work parties and social gatherings, dismissing everyone’s questions about why the hero wasn’t by your side. You became nostalgia, looking at old videos of Bucky on your phone, because you could count on the memories of the man more than the man himself.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you said, speaking to your car door handle. You hadn’t met each other’s eyes once this entire time. You were kind of glad. You just knew one look would leave you gasping for air, lungs suddenly rid of breath and replaced with a whirlpool of ocean blue, the gray and cobalt turning your intestines into a loop.

You didn’t stay to hear his response. You got in your car, turned on the engine, and reversed out of the parking lot.

Don’t look back

Don’t- Oh, for god’s sake. Of course you looked back.

There he was, still and staring. You knew he wouldn’t leave that spot until your car was completely out of sight. Making sure you were safe.

The next few weeks were filled with lots of ice cream, cheap wine, shitty movie nights, social media algorithms feeding you breakup posts, loud bars with too many people, your friends and family checking in, more tears (fuck, they never run out), takeout delivered to your doorstep, maybe an impulse buy or two…

When you were in distress, Alpine would always sit on your lap until your uneven breaths were in line with her quiet purrs. You would stroke her fur and mutter a thank you while you kissed the top of her head. She would eventually be irked by your flurry of kisses and promptly leave, knowing you were okay.

And so you found yourself turning onto an all-too-familiar street, pulling into an all-too-familiar lot, walking up to an all-too-familiar door.

Whatever trance you were in broke as soon as you felt the jagged edge of the key in your hand. You came to your senses long enough to reluctantly send Bucky a text, asking if you could pay your favorite girl a visit.

His response was almost immediate, shining brightly on your phone screen.

Open invite.

You sighed gratefully, though his response didn't indicate whether he would be in attendance. You pressed your ear to the door, and were greeted with silence. Carefully, you entered your former home.

It smelled like amber, like pine, like leather. Like Bucky. It was overpowering, threatening to shut off all your senses until-

Your heart melted as you spotted Alpine, summoned by the sound of the door. You hadn’t even let yourself into the space, instead falling to your knees and spreading your arms right there by the door. She came to you, stepping on your thighs and pulling herself up to your chest. You embraced her, and your tears fell.

You and Alpine stayed like that for a while, until she wriggled out of your grasp and disappeared.

that's enough, she seemed to say. dust yourself off.

You retrieved a few treats from the cupboard, leaving it for her on her favorite spot on the coffee table.

Your rendezvous continued every week. You seemed to have found the magical window of time where Bucky Barnes was never in his apartment. A weekly debrief with Sam, you guessed by the sticky notes on the fridge. You time, Alpine time.

At first, you stayed in front of the door, not daring to leave the space occupied by the doormat. Alpine would come to you, until she wouldn’t.

She coaxed you to the kitchen first, pawing at where Bucky kept her food. You gave her a little extra in her bowl, knowing that Bucky had already fed her. He was religious about it.

If she could roll her eyes, she would.

i’ll indulge you this time, she seemed to say, nibbling while you sat on the ground and petted her.

Next was the living room. She walked across the cushions, inviting you.

i haven’t got all day, she seemed to say.

You sat next to her, feeling the familiar sink of the cushion beneath you. Though you sat uncomfortably, your spine stick straight and your bum right on the edge of the couch.

You left her treats every time, in the same spot. You didn’t notice how the bag seemed to magically refill every time.

On your next visit, Alpine napped peacefully on the glass coffee table, right next to a thin vase of flowers.

You flinched. He had decorated. For someone else? But as you stepped in, you recognized the blush pink hue of camellias.

Alpine’s eyes slowly opened until she registered your presence. She walked around the vase, tail adding a dramatic flourish. Totally unnecessary, as the plant stood out enough in Bucky’s horrifically monochrome home.

dad said they were your favorite, she seemed to say.

A week later, Alpine purred in your lap as you leaned back on the soft couch, even daring to turn on the television. You were greeted by an array of music videos lining the search history. All the songs you told him to listen to, but thought he never did.

“This one is the best,” you told Alpine, gesturing to the most recent video played. She looked up at you.

dad’s only played it a million times, she seemed to say as she lengthened her body into a stretch.

“Huh,” you said on your next visit. A single magnet sat on the fridge door, a cartoon bear operating a gondola. A souvenir Bucky picked up after a conference in Italy. Also known as, your old message to Bucky when he came home in the dead of night from assignments. It meant, food inside. eat, please, then come to bed. i love you. He would sit his aching body, massaging a bruise or picking at Sam's shoddy gauze work, and enjoy the meal you prepared.

It must have been a fluke, but you found yourself pulling open the fridge door. A nearly empty fridge, save for a styrofoam container perched on the middle rack.

You sat at the kitchen table, enjoying your comfort meal from the Thai restaurant you could never stop praising, while Alpine watched you lazily.

“Tell him thank you,” you told her sheepishly. “I guess.”

i’ll think about it, she seemed to say as she yawned and walked away.

Every time you visited, there was a small gesture to make your stay just a little more comfortable. Your favorite tub of ice cream. Your favorite candle. Your favorite author's new book. This was Bucky's love. It was quiet. It was subtle. It crept up on you, like the smile you didn’t know you were wearing. He was details.

You filled up his fridge, a colorful combination of fruit, vegetables, and snacks. You brought in bags full of throw pillows and blankets, arranging it carefully in his home. The muted colors looked blinding in contrast with the monochrome pieces Bucky preferred.

And this was your love. It was the big-ass elephant in the room, if the elephant also yelled, "Hello! I'm here!" It was a clown car, pouring out in impossible amounts. It demanded to be seen, it demanded to be heard.

“Big it is,” Bucky said, feeling the cool air of the fridge, staring at the arrangement of food that threatened to spill over.

Alpine had the honor of watching you both. There was a lot she seemed to say.

You hummed, turning the key until you heard the lock free itself.

Balloons grazed the ceiling, shaped in cheesy hearts and shining proudly in metallic pink and red. Bouquets of forget-me-nots and roses, asters and camellias greeted you from the tables and countertops. You heard the familiar rhythm of your favorite song filling the air.

Alpine stood in the middle of it all, mewing happily and swiping at one of the many balloon strings.

Bucky stepped out from the doorway that led to his bedroom, just barely. You could make out the blue shirt that stretched over his chest, the wrinkles in his pants, the nervous twitch of his jaw.

"No debrief?" you said hesitantly, stopping short at the door.

"Cancelled. I had something that took precedence.

“Alpine insisted on the decor. I told her it was too much,” he said sheepishly, still gauging your reactions, gesturing towards his pet that paid both of you absolutely no mind.

You stared at him in disbelief, still not sure he was really there, in front of you, but you couldn't help but laugh.

“I worked on a schedule,” he said quickly, “with Sam. We called Clint, we got his advice.”

“Uh-huh,” you said absentmindedly, dropping your bag on a chair.

“Even Scott had some advice, but a lot of it depended on being on house arrest…”

“Sure,” you said, fingers grazing over rose petals.

“All this to say, I'm sorry. And I know you hate hearing it, and I know I don’t deserve it, but if you were-”

“Bucky?” you interrupted, taking one last step to close the gap between you two. In his anxious state, he hadn’t realized you were making your way over to him. Your fingers reached out, the prickle of his stubble tickling your fingertips. He sighed into your touch as you traced the chain of his dog tags, setting off the familiar jingle of metal.

“Yes?” he breathed, barely audible. His arms stayed at his side, heavy as anvils, the desire to trace your curves overwhelming but wondering if he was deserving.

“Say what you need to say,” you murmured, “quickly.” You wrapped your arms around his neck; he lowered his head until your foreheads rested against each other. His hazy blue eyes rested underneath furrowed brows, tense with regret.

“I'll do it right this time.” He spoke to your lips, and you watched as his eyes dipped low, masking the blue behind a curtain of eyelashes. “For you. For us.”

“I'm just here for the cat, Barnes,” you responded with a smile, pressing your lips to his.

He chuckled, feeling sensation return to his arms. He cupped his hands underneath your thighs and lifted. You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his torso and your hands gripped the back of his shirt.

Alpine paused her playdate with a curling ribbon just long enough to watch you two disappear into the bedroom.

my job here is done, she seemed to say.

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thund3rst0rmm · 2 years

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Avengers Incorrect Quotes #1 [Reader]:: "Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?" Steve, staring at [Reader] with a confused and lost face:: "You're a hazard to society." Bucky, standing beside Steve with a smirk:: "And a coward doll, do twenty."

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 1 year

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Until We Get Home

Title: Until We Get Home

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Verbal harassment and threats, language, mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summary: It’s 2am and you should be in bed, but you’re on the subway instead. Unfortunately, so is your ex.

A/N: This is based on the song “Another New York Love Story” from the musical “In Pieces”. As always, thanks for supporting me in all the ways you do. Lots of love, and thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Tara had promised you that dinner wouldn’t be more than a few hours, especially since you’d worked all day and you have work again tomorrow. It would be a few drinks, some food, and then maybe a little bit of catching up if the restaurant wasn’t too packed. The restaurant is packed, but it’s packed when you get there, so your college friend makes the executive decision to move your shindig to the bar across the street. That bar turns out to be a club that’s equally as packed as the restaurant, but clubs are supposed to be packed, so no one complains. You don’t complain either, considering you haven’t seen Tara and the others for almost four years.

I should’ve complained, you think. Maybe only a little, though.

The stairs down to the station seem to be moving as you climb down in your suddenly precarious heels, and it takes you a second at the bottom to right yourself. Maybe you had one drink too many. Despite your giddiness at spending so much time with your friends, you’re exhausted. It’ll be okay, though, because it’s two in the morning. There’s bound to be plenty of open seats on the train, meaning that you won’t have to stand for a little while—fourteen stops, to be exact. You’ve got some time to sober up.

You swipe your metrocard and board the train as soon as it arrives, then plop yourself down into a seat. It’s one of the cars with two long rows of chairs separated by an aisle, and the rest of your row is empty. Only three other people are in the car, and all of them ignore you as you get on. The older woman down the way continues to knit in silence, and you spy an airpod tucked behind her hair. It looks like she’s making some kind of underwear, if you’re being honest. You try not to stare.

A man a few seats down from you on the other side of the aisle stands grasping one of the metal poles. There’s nothing particularly interesting about him, but he looks about as tired as you feel. He stares out the window behind you at the station, then at the passing bricks and darkness when the train lurches into motion. The man sways a little as you move through the tunnels.

I’ll bet we all look like zombies right now. You half-heartedly try to fix your hair a little, but give up a minute later. It doesn’t really matter this early in the morning, anyway.

The third person is a young girl, young enough that your protective instincts kick. She’s hunched over in her seat with her bag in her lap, the picture-perfect vision of a girl who’s never ridden late at night before. She’s hyper vigilant and glances over when she feels your eyes on her. A pang of sympathy goes through you at the sight, and you make a mental note to make sure she stays unbothered while you’re riding.

Fourteen stops. No one gets on or off.

Thirteen stops. Still, no one gets on or off.

A few minutes later, the train slows to a stop at the next station. You look up from where you’ve been shuffling through the music on your phone, despite the fact that you’re just going to listen to the same song on repeat, then freeze as a new man enters the train. His stature is large, big enough to stand out in a crowd, but here on the train he seems like a behemoth.

Steve doesn’t take the subway, you think, but it’s definitely him. He’s wearing the same brown jacket and blue t-shirt that he wore on the first time he took you to Brooklyn, and though his golden hair is covered with a baseball cap and he’s got those stupid black-framed glasses on again, you’d know him anywhere.

The doors hiss shut as Steve takes one of the empty seats. He’s across the aisle from you, a few seats down but not as far as the woman knitting. Though he doesn’t look around, you know that he’s taking in his surroundings. He’s always hyper-aware of what’s around him.

There’s a book in his hand and you’re too far away to read the title, but you recognize the cover. It’s the one that you bought him from your favorite bookstore, the one that you still have a hard time going into because it makes you think of all the afternoons the two of you had spent wandering the aisles together.

Steve always said that New York was his city. It’s his home, his safe place, and his beating heart. Once, he’d told you that you were his beating heart. It’s hard to be in a city that reminds you so much of him. The pain never quite leaves, an ever-present ache in your chest as you go about your day. If you could break your lease, you’d leave, but that isn’t an option, at least right now. Instead, you’ve changed as much as you can. You don’t take the same routes to and from work anymore. You shop at a different grocery store, and you don’t eat Thai takeout from the place around the corner that he loves, no matter how many menus and coupons they put in the mailroom. Memories of him are in every monument, every crosswalk, and every tucked-away apartment. They come in on whispers of wind and the crash of trash cans outside your building, and they break your heart every single time.

As subtly as possible, you shift until you’re sitting at an angle, facing away from him. If you’re lucky, Steve won’t see your face and try to start a conversation. The two of you haven’t talked since he broke up with you in the lobby of the Avengers Tower months ago.

You’d come to bring him some lunch. He’d been on his way to tell you that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. While five months had been enough to make you certain that you could spend the rest of your life with him, it wasn’t enough for him. Steve’s words had cut deeper than any knife ever could. A small part of you wants to hit him in retaliation for the way he ended things, though you know your punch wouldn’t do much at all to him.

Only twelve stops, you tell yourself. You can do this. You can totally go unnoticed for twelve stops. Just sit very, very quietly.

The train starts moving again and you close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Thankfully, this car doesn’t smell as bad as some of the others you’ve been in. There’s movement in the aisle and you open your eyes to see the man approaching you. He’s leering, something between a creepy smile and sneer on his face, and you tense. You only have one earbud in, but even if you didn’t, you still would have been able to hear everything he says as he creeps towards you. It’s disgusting and your stomach churns. The girl down the way is watching with wide eyes and while you’re thankful it’s you and not her, you still don’t want to be in this situation.

He keeps his distance, thankfully, but he’s shouting at you in a way that makes you want to curl up and hide. His eyes are crazed as they look you up and down.

“You whore! You can go back to wherever you came from! You’re not gonna get my money! You’re not going to get anything from me, not until the boss tells me you’re dead!”

You try your best to ignore him, fidgeting with the cord to your portable charger and clutching your bag in your lap. There’s pepper spray inside, but you’re not sure if that would help. You refuse the instinct to curl in on yourself. The best thing to do is to stay strong, to look tough.

“I’ll bet you’re gonna go home to the boss and tell him all the nasty things we did together! That’s right, tell him all the things you want to do to me. I’ll bet you're ready for a good lay, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Steve’s closing the distance between you now. His book has disappeared from his hand and his posture is undoubtedly less casual than when he’d been sitting in his seat. You hadn’t even realized that he was watching you, but you suppose that outbursts on an almost empty subway are hard to miss. Part of you is grateful that he’s stepping in, but a small part of you rises up, indignant, and insists that you could’ve handled it yourself. You’ve handled worse.

“That’s enough,” Steve firmly tells him, positioning himself between you and the man. He’s like a brick wall, and you relax a little in his shadow. You can’t even see past Steve’s figure, and if you’re being honest, you’re trying not to look. His ass is right in your face, and if you look too much, you’re bound to say something utterly embarrassing about it when this is all over.

“You should leave her alone.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?” the man taunts.

Steve draws himself up a little taller and you peek up to watch him remove the baseball cap and glasses. It only takes a second before the man retreats.

Captain America saves the day again.

Once the man is back on the other side of the train, Steve turns to you and you quickly look down before he can catch your eye. The screen of your phone is black now and your earbud has fallen out, sliding from your shoulder to your lap. Miraculously, it hasn’t fallen onto the floor of the train. You tuck it into your palm and make a fist.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentler. When you don’t answer, he tries again. “Y/N? Please just let me know if you’re okay.”

I don’t want to talk to you.

“I’m fine,” you finally respond. You force yourself to look up, unsure if you’re more grateful that he’s helped you or if you should roll your eyes at his inability to let someone else take over. Steve never was one to back down from a fight, even when it’s not his own.

He nods. “Good. I’m glad.” Steve pauses, grabbing onto one of the horizontal bars for balance as the train sways. “How have you been?”

You hold back a groan. Of course he wants to small talk.

“Okay. How about you?” you ask, not really wanting to hear his answer.

Please don’t say that you’ve been good, you tell him in your head.

He holds your gaze for a second before looking away, nodding a little bit more than necessary. “Good. I’ve, uh, I’m okay, too.”

He replaces his glasses and the hat before grabbing onto the bar again. You shift awkwardly in your seat and glance over at the girl. She’s watching the man warily, but the train stops again and he makes a quick escape. The girl relaxes, and so do you.

You glance up at the map as the announcements play in the car. Eight more stops to go.

“Why are you out this late?” Steve’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up at him from your seat. “You’re usually in bed at this time of night.”

“I went out for dinner with some friends,” you answer.

“Not Natasha?” Steve replies, like he already knows the answer, and you shake your head.

“Tara,” you tell him. “Lindsay and Mallory were there, too. Lizzy was supposed to come, but she got sick and decided to stay back at the hotel.”

Steve looks surprised. “You haven’t seen them in years. Why are they in town? Did you get to meet Mallory’s daughter?”

He remembers that she had a baby?

It takes you a second to process his questions. While Steve remembers a lot, it’s strange that he’d remember such specific details about your friends, especially after so long. It’s not important information. You’re certain that you only mentioned them a few times in the months you dated. You and your college friends don’t keep up except to send each other funny posts and videos.

“Um, no,” you stammer after a second, knowing that it’s been a little too long of a pause. You’ve made things awkward. “No, her husband stayed home with the baby while she’s in town. They have concert tickets for tomorrow, but they all flew in a day early to do some sightseeing. They asked if I wanted to go out to dinner after I got off work.”

Nodding, Steve searches your face, and you feel your cheeks warm under his steady gaze. You shift in your seat again, adjusting your grip on the earphone in your hand just to give yourself something to do.

“You look good, Y/N. Work’s going okay?”

You nod back and glance at the floor. There’s gum everywhere. Someone’s left a styrofoam takeout container underneath a seat.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. Yours is good too, from what I hear.”

His expression is neutral when you finally look up again. “I’m not dead yet,” he tells you. “That’s normally a good sign.”

You could get lost in his eyes. How is it that it’s been months and you’re still able to be drawn in so quickly? Steve has the kind of face that comforts, that reassures. You love that about him. It soothes your soul a little and washes away the last dredges of fear the man’s harassment had brought on.

You’ve been staring too long, your brain helpfully chimes. He’s just being friendly. Small talk and public relations are a part of his job.

You blink, then look back over at the map above the windows opposite you. “So where are you headed?” you ask.

“Manhattan,” Steve answers. When you look back at him, you get the answer to your next questions without even having to ask. You’re both getting off at the same stop, just like you always used to when he came to pick you up from work.

Clearing your throat, you look back down at your locked phone. “Right.”

Only three more stops. That’s not as long as it feels like.

Down the train, the girl grabs her backpack and exits the train. The doors hiss shut a moment later, and when you look up, you realize that the other woman has left, too. It’s just you and Steve on the train in the early hours of the day.

You swallow thickly and wrack your brain for something else to say. All you can come up with is, “It’s been pretty cold lately.”

Steve is quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think Nat said something about it snowing this weekend.”

You nod and try not to fidget, try not to look nervous. Why is he still standing so close?

“She’ll like that,” you reply.

He nods again. “Yeah.” Steve pauses. “Tony won’t, though. He hates the snow.”

You nod again, then curse yourself for nodding so much. How many times has that been? You haven’t looked up in a while, should you look up again?

“So where did you have dinner tonight?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said you went out to dinner.”

“Oh. Right.” You look up, and when he doesn’t say anything more, you realize he’s still expecting an answer. “Oh. Um, well, we were going to go to this one place—Rio? But it was too busy, so we went to the bar across the street. Well, it’s more of a club than anything.”

Steve leans against the pole next to him, one hand still holding onto the railing above him. “Tuscano, right? I’ve been there.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been to a club?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he answers, though there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks. When your expression doesn’t change, he explains, “It was Tony’s birthday a few weeks ago. He insisted we go to as many clubs as possible in one night—something about him and Pepper taking a break? We were only there for twenty minutes, I think, but it was long enough.”

Nodding, you relax and smile a little at the mental image of Steve standing in Tuscano. “Sounds like a fun night.”

“Something like that. I think I’ve been to Rio, too. It’s not too crowded if you go for lunch.”

Steve carries on the conversation like it’s easy. It probably is. He’s friendly in a way that reminds you a little too much of how he talks with strangers and fans. He doesn’t once ask you anything too personal, nor does he bring up anything about your last interactions or the months you dated. It stings, thinking that you mattered nothing to him in retrospect, but when he glances out the window at the second-to-last stop, you catch a glimpse of something you hadn’t noticed before—sadness.

You recognize it immediately. You’ve seen that same look in your eyes every time you’ve looked in the mirror since Steve broke up with you. You feel it every time you pass by the bookshop or hear about him and the other heroes on the news or in conversation. Every time you pass by the corner deli he likes or the vintage candy store, you think of him, and it twists the knife just a little.

A small part of yourself asks, “What if he misses you just as much as you miss him?,” but you’re too afraid to entertain that thought for long. You want to tell him. You want to tell Steve everything, starting with how much you miss him, but you can’t. That wouldn’t be fair—not to him, and definitely not to you. You’re working hard to recover from being disposed of, and another rejection could be the final blow. You push the thoughts away, willing yourself not to speak up.

The two of you ride in silence until your stop, and you follow Steve off the train and up the stairs without a word. When you reach the sidewalk, you get out of the flow of traffic and stand together, both of you with your hands in your jacket pockets. It’s strange to be standing here with him again, but you don’t want to leave yet, and you busy yourself by glancing at your phone to see if you have any missed calls. You don’t, but your music has been playing this whole time. You wonder if Steve could hear it the whole time.

Silently, you pause the song and unplug the portable charger, then tuck your earphone into its case. Steve watches you as you arrange your belongings.

“Y/N…”

“Whatever you’re about to say,” you say, stopping him before he can go any further, “Please just know that you… I’m having a really hard time with this.” You gesture between the two of you and break eye contact, knowing that you won’t be able to hold his gaze while you say this. You inhale deeply through your nose and close your eyes for a second before focusing yourself on a building across the street. “I can’t have my heart broken again by you, Steve. It was too hard the first time, and I’m still getting over it.”

Strangers walk past as you blink away tears. The light turns red and cars roll to a stop. Somewhere down the street, a siren wails. Footsteps sound in chorus all around you in the city that never sleeps, though a hush has fallen over the sleeping public, as if the world is holding its breath just for a moment.

“Me too,” Steve says. “And I’m sorry.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. “It would make me feel better to know you got home safely after what happened on the train.”

You pause, taken aback by the question, but after a few seconds, you nod and wipe your eyes, a little embarrassed.

Steve moves forward and you turn around, naturally falling into step beside him as he heads towards your apartment building. The sidewalks are less crowded than normal, but you walk together in silence, side-by-side, until you reach the door to the building’s mailroom. It takes all your willpower not to reach out and take his hand as you walk.

”I’m sorry for what I said. I was… I was scared and I panicked, and that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t think I was ready to be in a relationship. I’m in love with you, Y/N, and that scared me. I didn’t think that I should fall as hard and as fast as I did for you. It felt too dangerous, but now I realize that it wasn’t a bad thing. Being with you feels like being home, and that’s something I’ve been searching for for a long time,” Steve says.

You shake your head a little. “What?”

He searches your face, mouth gaping a little, before finally answering with, “I’m in love with you.”

“But you broke up with me,” you say, feeling a bit lost. It’s like he’s taken the script in your head and completely flipped it upside down. What are you supposed to say?

“I know,” he replies. Steve looks down at his shoes and rubs the back of his neck. “Y/N, I— I’m sorry. I don’t think anything I could ever do will make up for what I said and what I did, but I want to try.”

You press your lips together and look over at the glass door that leads inside. You could go. It would be easy to leave him standing outside your building, and you know that if you told Steve to never talk to you again, he’d listen. You’d never hear from him ever again. A tiny voice tells you to do that, to pull away from him before he inflicts even more pain.

He kisses you on the cheek.

Your eyes fly to his, and there’s guilt flooding the blue that’s always been a safe haven to you.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shake your head. You’re not angry. You’re…

“I love you too.” The words you’ve wanted to say for so long are finally out in the open, hanging between you in the night air.

“You do?” he asks, and you nod.

“I do.”

A smile appears on his face, your heart settles a little in your chest, and then you realize what it is that you’re feeling.

I’m home, you think, and you smile back.

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fanfic-scribbles · 2 months

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Dinner Date Chapter 30

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter (in progress)

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 30: Fight Fight Fight

Chapter Summary: All couples have their problems. Some of them are just a little stranger than others– the problems, that is. …And the couple.

Chapter Word Count: 1312

A/N: This is just a weird little thing I found too funny for my own good. Similarly, the next few chapters will probably be a lot more random than usual, as I clear out some of the old vignettes and pieces I have that I really like but that probably won’t work with the next part of the story that’s coming. What next part? Don’t worry about it :)

Steve was mad at me.

“Thanks, sweetheart; you’re the best.”

The only problem was– I didn’t know why.

“I’m really glad you invited me over today.”

I squinted at him, but all he did was smile sweetly. “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes widening with concern. With fake concern. I didn’t know who he thought he was fooling– certainly not me– but I had nothing to really call him out on. All I had was a suspiciously forced cheerful attitude, a plethora of compliments, and overwhelming sweetness. Like, the compliments were…fine; nothing insincere, it was more the way he said them. The way he said everything, actually. It was starting to make my skin itch, and he had to know it. He knew how I felt about him being…saccharine.

Still. Bringing it up would be awkward, and if he was mad at me…well, I probably deserved it. If all he was going to do was be a little petty, maybe I could work it out and apologize properly instead of making it a bigger fight by admitting I didn’t know what he was mad about.

“Nothing,” I said and held out the bowl.

“Thanks sweetheart,” he said and took a handful. “I really love how generous you are.”

Yeah, I was definitely in the doghouse for something. I just had to figure out what.

Try as I might, though, I could not get to the bottom of this.

“You’re so sweet.”

I did glare at him for that one. Again, I was faced with innocent blinking eyes. I glared more, but then he lifted a brow and held out the bowl of chips, and I tentatively reached out and took one. “Thanks,” I said, for lack of anything better.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

The way he said that was so weird I knew it had to be a hint. So: food. It had to do with food. Stealing food? But I hadn’t stolen any of his food that I could think of. We shared bites of things all the time. What would drive him to needle me for nearly a week straight? It was weird. And unsettling.

“That’s…good?” I said uncertainly.

“I think so,” he said mildly, and when I twitched he nearly grinned. He looked at me, like he was waiting for something…

…and fuck that. Whatever I did was not bad enough for all this irritation. It couldn’t have been. I would have remembered it, I would have.

The smile was gone, but he looked over me with an air of self-satisfaction that made me twitch again.

I hoped I would remember it soon.

“Hey Honey.”

“Oh what the hell is that?” I asked and turned to face him.

Again I was met with blinking innocence. There was something about that boyish expression that made me…I didn’t even know. It was cute. It was too cute. And he was trying so hard to be annoying and completely succeeding in a way that made me jealous. If I tried to be that sickly sweet it would be disgusting (or hilarious) but he pulled it off in a way that completely caught me off-guard every single time.

“I just wanted to try out some new nicknames,” he said. “Is that a ‘no’ on that one?”

“Yeah, no,” I said and watched his face. He didn’t so much as twitch. I opened my mouth, ready to ask him why he was acting like this, but I stopped. I was going to figure this out.

“What do you think about going out, Pumpkin?”

I had to figure this out.

“Would you like a bite, Sweetie?”

“Is it too cold in here, Cupcake?”

“Look at this, Sugar Pie.”

“Can you pass me the syrup, Sweetness?”

I hit my fist on the table. “Okay, okay, okay,” I said and, because dignity what dignity no I didn’t know her, dropped to my knees next to his chair, clasped my hands, and groveled. “Please stop. I’m sorry, I’m sorry; I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry!”

He smiled sweetly but said nothing. Just sipped his coffee, and I knew, just by looking at him, he had no intentions of letting up. I groaned. “Please, I can’t take this anymore! I swear I’m sorry!”

“If you don’t know what you’re apologizing for, then are you really sorry?” he said skeptically.

“I am!” I insisted. “I have been trying to figure this out for two weeks now but you know my memory is shit.” I looked up at him and tried for the most pathetic expression I could manage.

Apparently, it was suitably pathetic, because he broke a little, with a snort and a smile that cracked open before he could put his hand to cover it. He sighed and dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stop.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief. Then I studied him. “So,” I said. “Your method of tormenting me is giving over-the-top compliments and stupid cutesy nicknames?”

“Mm hm,” he said smugly.

“And you were willing to call me shit like “Bonbon” for weeks?”

“Or longer.”

“You bitch,” I said in awe. “You’re so petty. So sadistic.”

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’ extra hard.

I stared at him, just sitting there, calmly drinking his coffee while I lost my mind. He shot me a devious little smirk, but there was a softness in his eyes, and he kept looking at me like he was gauging just how bothered I was by this. Toeing the line, but I knew if he thought he’d gone over, he would have stopped immediately.

“You are the perfect boyfriend,” I said, overcome with just as much softness.

He blinked, then blushed and ducked his head.

“Dude,” Clint wheezed, and I suddenly remembered we were among friends.

“You two need therapy,” Sam said with mild awe. “Not couple’s therapy; just, in general. Good Lord.”

“There isn’t a therapist in the world qualified enough to deal with either of them,” Natasha said, still reading her paper.

I got off the floor and dusted my knees, a little embarrassed. Steve pulled me in with one arm and I hugged him, feeling the walls break a little. “I am sorry,” I said. “For whatever I did that annoyed you enough to keep this up for two whole weeks.”

“I’ll forgive you.”

Satisfied, I let that be it.

…Well, mostly satisfied.

“Now that you aren’t mad anymore, will you tell me what I did so I can never do that again?”

He sighed heavily and frowned at me as he let go. “I mean it!” I said. “I really have no idea what happened.”

He rolled his eyes. “You remember that breakfast we had? From the French place with the really good pastries?”

I had to think. “Like, the Sunday before last?”

He nodded. “When you ate my pastries?”

When I–?

Oh. Wait a cotton fucking second.

I stared at him. “You mean that day that you decided to get something different so I got the special croissants?”

He frowned. “But…you also got the tart.”

“The tart was for later,” I said, watching him start to close in on the memory. “Remember how I said I was bummed I didn’t get to mooch off your croissant? And that I had to get my own? I complained about it so much that you complained?!”

He squinted. I folded my arms and waited for Mr. Eidetic Memory to catch a clue. And so did everyone else– Clint and Sam leaned in like they were watching a dramatic play in a sports game, and even Natasha deigned to lift her head.

When it finally, finally clicked, Steve’s cheeks flushed pink and he ducked his head into his shoulders. “Oops.” He gave me a very, very sad expression. “I’m sorry?”

I narrowed my eyes.

He sure as shit was going to be.

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#steve rogers x reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #captain america reader insert #avengers reader insert #dinner date

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supraveng · 2 years

Text

We were never friends

main masterlist

Summary: you confess your feelings only to be rejected (friends to enemies)

Word count: 897

Pairings: Choose your avenger x fem!reader

Warning: swearing, mean Avenger, insecurities..tell me if i missed any

A/N: I love angst but never able to write it since I love all the characters too much to allow them to hurt me.....I came up with this idea and couldn’t decide on who could possibly break the readers heart, so I left the Avenger up to who you decide....it’s a little odd, I know

You had just walked in and about to start your shift when Jenna come running up to you.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but I just sat the Asshole Avenger in your section, per their request” She looked like she felt guilty, and you knew she shouldn’t be, this was your issue and unfortunately a bunch of people got caught in the crossfire.

“Hey, it’s not your fault, don’t feel bad” you shrug your shoulders before herding out of the kitchen “here goes nothing” you mumble as you make your way over to your former friend / crush.

The two of you hadn’t had a civil conversation since you confessed your feelings and were harshly rejected. Not seeing a point to continue any sort of friendship since you apparently didn’t mean as much to them as they did to you.

Approaching the table you took a deep breath, ”hi I’m Y/N, would you like to hear today’s specials?” trying your best to remain professional.

They automatically scoff at you, and shake their head, “yeah, I know who you are.”

You roll your eyes at the audacity of the situation, as if you are the one interrupting their day. “So do you know what you would like to order?” smiling and trying not to show any emotion to them.

“No, I don’t want to order anything, I came here to talk to you since you aren’t returning my calls” they seemed frustrated now and you could honestly not care less.

“I think you said everything you needed to say a few weeks ago. I’m not good enough for you, I get it, you don't need to keep repeating it to me” Your nose was flaring at this point, but you were doing your best to keep your voice down.

“That’s not, what I came here to say” they looked at you then as if they could crack at any moment, but you weren’t about to feel sorry for them or pity the pain they were now experiencing.

“Really? Because you were the one who let me know, more than once, that I’m not good enough, so now you have something new? Did you find another flaw that you forgot to point out before?” At this point you knew you were getting louder, but you really didn’t care.

Maybe the rest of the world saw the Avengers as the world's mightiest heroes, but you knew they were damaged just like the rest of humanity.

“That’s not fair, we were friends, and you threw that away because I didn’t return your feelings. Don’t lay your issues on me” by now, half of the restaurant was listening to your conversation, but you ignored that fact.

“Friends? We were never friends. You know why? A friend wouldn’t point out that I don’t look like a supermodel, or not educated enough, or come from an impoverished upbringing. A true friend would respect me enough to be honest about their feelings not being reciprocated without making me feel like garbage” you are glaring at them, hoping for an apology.

“So now I’m not a friend because I was too honest with you? I’m an Avenger, I have an image to maintain, and I’m sorry you don’t fit into that, but that shouldn’t change our friendship”

All of your hopes for an apology went out the window, so you decided to take the gloves off.

“Why would you want to remain friends with someone that doesn’t fit into your perfect little bubble? Huh? Imagine being caught by the paparazzi with a friend that looks like me? What would happen to your precious reputation?” breathing heavy after your rant, you looked at them fully for the first time in a long time.

“It’s funny how you don’t want to be with me, and yet you are the one who keeps coming back to me. Bringing back those reminders, I’m curious now if you are trying to convince me or yourself…” you notice a look on their face change to regret, you could almost laugh at the fact you finally figured it all out.

“That’s it isn’t it? You know what we had was more than friendship, but I don’t fit with what’s expected of you. So, did you think that breaking my heart would make it easier for me or you?”

They now had unshed tears in their eyes, but you couldn’t give a damn, it didn’t change the way they treated you.

“Well, this was an interesting little therapy session we had, but I have work to do, some of us don’t have billionaire money to support them” you walked away into the kitchen as quickly as you could, trying your best to keep from crying.

Before you could even take a full breath, your manager, Todd came over and pulled you into a hug. “It’s ok, I got ya” he mumbled into your hair as you let out all the emotions that were swarming inside of you.

“I’m taking your tables, go home and we can talk about all this tomorrow” he told you without leaving any room for discussion. You could only respond with thank you before grabbing your bag and heading to the subway, hoping to get away from the mess you just went through.

#AVENGERS ANGST #avengers fanfiction #avengers reader insert #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barns x reader #marvel fanfiction #clint barton x reader #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #bruce banner x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader

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slightly-smarter-nat · 2 years

Text

Super Saiyan || Avenger Reader: Part 1

Pairing: Avengers x Super Powered Reader (Platonic).

Warnings: Discussions of self harm and scars; mentions of death; mentions of destruction of Planets; mentions of blood; character death; mention of sedation; mention of hospitals; degrading tones used; explicit language; mentions of violence; mentions of injury; mention of alcohol; mention of weapons/combat; mention of (social) anxiety. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 8,575 words (18,803 in total for Parts 1 & 2).

A/N: I'm back! I can only apologise for my absence and I thank you all for your continued patience and interest in this fic, I really appreciate it. Also, thank you to the anon that requested this, I really appreciate the request. I'm going to admit now, I'm not well versed on the Dragon Ball franchise so all the information included is based entirely on research- if it's wrong I apologise. I wanted to note that during the first section of this fic, there isn't as much interaction with the reader during the meeting- this is to highlight the social anxiety of the reader and the distrusting nature of the Avengers. Also, when the name 'Broly' is used for the reader, it's more of a hero name such as Natasha Romanoff being widely known as the 'Black Widow'; it's still under 'y/n". Anyways, I really hope you all enjoy! NOTE: Tumblr wouldn’t let me upload the entire fic in one go, so it has been split into two parts! Please note this is an au so some characters behaviours may be different to what is expected.

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Masterlist

Part 2

Super Saiyan- Avenger Reader:

“Yes! Come on, that’s what I’m talking about!” Sam shouts as he launches himself up from the compound’s living area couch in celebration; whilst in the process, spilling a bowl of potato chips all across the floor.

Tony rushes in from the kitchen area, having been gone for less than a second on his journey to seek out more beers for the Falcon and himself to share during the basketball game, “What?! What!? What did I miss!?” He hurriedly questions.

Sam smacks his hands together in glee, “You just missed the ultimate, and dare I say it winning basket for the Lakers. If we win you owe me fifty bucks Stark.”

As Sam begins a supportive chant of the Laker’s name, Tony shakes his head in refusal, “No, absolutely not. The Knicks have this in the bag. They’re just warming up.”

Sam laughs at Tony’s words, “What, for 23 minutes? These quarters have been owned by the Lakers man.’

Tony pinches his fingers together as he moves them to emphasise his words, “Um, remind me again of your winning track over the last season. Oh right, you’ve won thirty three games and we’ve won thirty seven, what are the odds of that, Wilson. The better team is on top.”

Sam scoffs as he begins to scoop up the dispersed potato chips on the flooring, knowing Steve will scold him for making such a mess after the ‘soda bomb’ incident he carried out with Bucky and Peter Parker- there’s still cola tainting the walls to this day, “That means nothing, you’re just pissed that we have the most skilled players in the entire Nation.”

Just as Tony is about to retaliate, the TV screen goes blank in combination with the cheering crowds being silenced, causing the two Avengers to gaze around the room in order to locate the source of the disruption.

Their eyes land on a stern looking Steve Rogers, aiming the TV remote at the screen before addressing the two avid basketball fans, “Fury’s here, we’ve got a mission and it’s not good.”

Tony and Sam’s stomachs drop, sending a surge of bile to their throats at the severity of Steve’s perturbing tone, “W-what is it?” Sam barely lets out, never having seen Steve be this vexatious in concern with a mission briefing.

Steve hardens his stare impossibly more, “Just… just come to the meeting room. Everyone is waiting.” Steve casts his gaze to the scattered food decorating the floor, not even having the tolerance to bring it up at this moment in time.

As Steve turns to move away from the scene, Sam meets Tony’s troubled features, knowing it’s safe to say that the battle for the best basketball team is the least of their concerns right now. The real battle is awaiting them inside the Avenger’s meeting room, little did they know that failure from this mission could be detrimental to not only the team, but the entirety of the World’s population.

If only it was as simple as betting a couple of dollars on the best team to win, the Avengers cannot afford to lose such a luxury.

—

You stare blankly at the singular window that decorates one of the many walls from within your compound bedroom. The light source barely illuminates your room as ruinous grey clouds take over the sky; removing the only brightness that seems to occur in your life at this moment in time.

There isn’t much to highlight in your room, the walls are bare, except for a few grey scuff marks from unknown origins. The bedding that delicately covers your bed is ordinary. The sheets remain barely disturbed after another night of nightmares and your innermost fears clouding your mindset.

You can only hope that one day you won’t fear yourself as much as you fear the outside environment of your room.

You make a point to shift your position in your intolerable, plastic desk chair; having faced it towards the window to gaze upon the calming raindrops that will soon fall from the sky- well, you hope they will. You need all the calm and serenity you can get in this place.

You shift your legs underneath your body, hoping to make yourself as small as humanly possible, you feel as though your presence takes up too much space in this compound as it is.

In no way do you hate the compound or the Avengers; they’re your team and you have nothing but respect for them. Leading to the reasoning of you retreating to the safety of your bedroom more times than none. You know it’s for the best, yet you can’t deny the way the heavy feeling of loneliness lays upon your chest. You want to fit in with the team, more than anything in the world.

Though for their safety, you need to stay away. You just hope they’ll come to understand that sacrifice one day.

Three firm knocks on the wooden barrier of your bedroom door disturb you from your internal thoughts. You barely turn to acknowledge the presence entering your domain, knowing only one person would have the decency and courage to come and check up on you- Nick Fury.

“Rise and shine y/l/n, your ass is required in the meeting room.” He bellows around the room, taking in the simplicity of the area surrounding him.

Fury is the only member you can trust fully in your comfort zone; practically a Father figure. Having saved you in more ways than one, you’ll always be grateful for him keeping you out of S.H.I.E.L.D’s maximum security base upstate, or worse the R.A.F.T.

“I’m not going.” You barely let out, desperate to focus your attention on the outside world and away from Fury’s orders.

Fury makes his way towards you, lining himself up to lean against your window- removing your preferred view.

You close your eyes as you release a disheartened sigh, knowing you have to engage in Fury’s requirements, “How bad is it?” You don’t even need to ask about the nature of his visit, knowing he only comes to you without warning when a high risk mission is in play.

“Bad, I’m talking about the end of civilization as we know it.” He puts across clearly, allowing you to understand the seriousness of this whole situation.

You open your eyes to refocus your attention on the Director, “Fury, you know I can’t-“

Fury instantly silences your doubts, “Ah, ah. I don’t want to hear any of that. You know you’re one of the strongest people on this team. We need you, hell the world does. You are not, and I will repeat this, you are not sitting here attempting to hide your gifts when the world suffers in your place.” Fury portrays the role of a guardian giving tough love for a necessary cause.

Unwanted tears of trepidation flood your eyes, alongside a crack of desperation in your voice as you address your boss, “I-I don’t want to lose control again. I don’t want to put them in danger-“

A pained sob escapes your lips as you cover your face from view, Fury takes a step forward to place a supportive hand on your shoulder as he crouches down to your level, “Y/n, look at me.”

You lift your teary gaze towards him, “I know you’re scared, heck I’m scared too. We need you for this one y/n, your team needs you. You’re not protecting them by locking yourself away, you’re pushing away the main people who will do anything to protect you-“

You scoff at Fury’s words, “Yeah right, they hate me. I know it.”

“They don’t hate you, they are wary of you. They’ll come around, I know they will; and if they don’t I’ll put their asses in line.”

You smirk at Fury’s words, appreciating the defence.

“Now please, come to the meeting room with me. We need all the heroes we can get on this one.” Fury asks as he studies your features, hoping to see a shift in hopefulness.

From the referral of being worthy enough to be considered a ‘hero’, you remember why you agreed to start this whole ‘Avengers thing’ in the first place- to protect those who needed it.

Now more than ever, it’s your time to prove that you’re worthy of being an Avenger, and you may be the only person who can protect Earth from its ultimate demise.

You just hope your team are willing to put past tensions aside in the sake of justice for the Universe.

——

You slowly trail behind Fury as the two of you arrive at the meeting room door- dreading to know what information is waiting for you on the inside.

You adjust the hood of your hoodie across your face, attempting to shield as much of your features as possible. Fury takes a moment to look at you, sighing slightly at your hesitant state, “Relax your fidgety ass, you have every right to be here.” He lets out encouragingly.

You release a breath of frustration as you pull your makeshift shield down, “This is ridiculous, I’m adding more of a danger factor with my presence right now-“

Fury holds his hand up to silence your words, knowing where your explanation was heading.

“The only thing that’s dangerous about you right now is your attitude. This is serious y/n, we can’t have you backing out of this one-“ Fury’s statement is interrupted as Tony Stark makes his presence known in the looming corridor, desperate to input his unwanted opinion.

“I’m sorry, but isn’t that what she does best? Back out of important missions.” Tony utters viscously, causing a hurtful pang to invade your system; conflicting against your barely controllable powers.

You cast a worrisome gaze to the figures approaching, noticing how Tony is casually walking alongside Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers.

“Leave it man, we have bigger issues to deal with.” Sam helps deflect some of the negative tension away from you, something you’re extremely grateful for.

You scan each of their faces for an indication of their apprehension towards the situation; if a selection of the strongest team members are worried, you definitely should be too.

However, your wicked insecurities cloud your judgement, tainting their features as hostile.

You bow your head in shame, knowing your chosen isolation periods have had an impact on your reputation in regards to the team.

You feel a firm grip latch itself onto your shoulder, causing a sonic shock to subtly play on your system. Steve Rogers attempts to sympathise with you, knowing that your actions have been carried out for a valid reason.

Though his usual words of encouragement don’t come, you turn your sight to him, wanting to shrink under his pitiful stare.

Instead of offering the wisdom you crave, he releases a pained sigh and moves to enter the meeting room.

Sam gives you a polite smile, closely following Captain America himself into the room ahead.

You start to shift uncomfortably on the spot, wanting to take a step forward into the room, but being held back by your concerns.

Tony produces an obnoxious breath, highlighting his annoyance, “Just don’t screw this one up.” He directs towards you as he moves to the direction of the doorway in front of you.

Inevitable tears invade your eyes, struggling to keep your anxiety at bay. Fury notices your hurt and decides to make an example out of Tony.

“Stark, I’ve had Mayor Rollins on my ass all week, asking ‘Why has Tony Stark still not made a generous donation to their fund from the stupid-ass destruction that he caused’. I may have paraphrased it just a tad.” Fury flicks back his black, leather trench coat as he places his hands on his hips for good measure. Knowing all too well that Tony is expected to make a large sum of a donation to the City for damages caused by his rogue test subjects; associated with his Mark XLVII suit.

Tony raises a surprised eyebrow at Fury’s words, “It’s on the ‘To-do list’. Why do you ask?”

Fury smiles widely at Tony’s revelation, “Oh nothing, nothing. Just wanted to humble you Stark, and highlight that we’re all prone to making mistakes from time to time. It’s how we deal with the lessons that come from them in the long run.” Fury looks towards you with his restricted sight, homing in on some of your self doubts.

Tony scoffs as he removes himself from the situation, clearly agitated in concern with the situation at hand.

“Thank you.” You mumble under your breath as soon as Tony leaves.

Fury gives you an assured nod; taking a step into the meeting room to encourage you to do the same.

As you look at the members present, you feel as your buried anxieties claw their way to the surface.

Surging yourself into a set of well calculated breaths of relief, you take the dreaded steps inside the room, knowing that whatever follows is going to be hard to embrace.

—-

As you emerge into the room reluctantly, you can’t help but feel everyone’s glare land on you. Sending waves of nausea through you at the unwanted attention. Situations like this enhance the surge of your powers coursing through your veins- practically a ‘fight or flight’ response, waiting to be unleashed.

However, you vowed to yourself that a loss of control would never happen again. Due to this, you make quick work in finding a lone chair, situated at the back of the room, away from the present Avengers currently occupying the atmospheric dismal space.

Your attention is recaptured once you hear the telltale sound of an individual clearing their throat, in anticipation to speak, “Good Afternoon, Miss y/l/n. How are you?” Vision politely asks, barely noticing the dumbfounded features tainting your fellow teammates’ faces.

Just as you go to respond, you notice Wanda places her hand on Vision’s- a silent warning for him to avoid engaging in further conversation with you.

A flood of sorrow enters your system. This is usually how the days within the compound go now. The team is under the impression that you feel no respect for them; that you hate them. Those factors couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re protecting them from landing the same fate as those on Planet ‘Vegeta’- your former home before the incident happened…

You quickly shake those thoughts from your subconscious, knowing the last thing anyone needs is you entering a downward spiral from your cruel thoughts.

As soon as you notice Stephen Strange make his way to the front of the room to address the very few team members present. You can’t help but study the crimson lacerations covering his face. Violet bruising highlights his eyes, making you ponder as to what could have caused his beaten-like state to have occurred.

“Is that everyone?” He coldly questions Fury.

Everyone’s confused gazes reach Fury’s pitiful one, “The only ones in any fit state to carry out this mission. He’s taken out the rest one by one” The rest being the fallen Avengers who have been exposed to this mission far longer than those present with you at the compound.

The cryptic words spread a wave of perplexity throughout the team and yourself.

“Hold on, what the hell is going on? We’ve been shoved into a room together with little to no explanation and now you’re talking in some sort of coded way. Just spit it out, one of you.” The prolonged refusal of releasing key mission details gets to Clint, aiding his outburst.

Fury raises an eyebrow at Clint’s behaviour whilst Stephen makes his effort to explain his unusual presence at the compound, “Alright Barton, I’ll cut it short to please your child-like temper.”

Heightened emotions begin to show, the last thing the team needs.

Steve puts forward his leadership approach, “Strange, I think we can all agree that we’re all a little on edge; isn’t that right Barton?”

Steve attempts to work Clint out of his anger, causing the Avenger to scoff, “Yeah, sorry man, whatever.”

Natasha makes a point to take a seat next to Clint to calm him down, knowing he’s just worried that whatever the mission entails will put everyone he loves at risk; causing the lashing out.

Stephen releases a miserable breath, attempting to waver through endless thoughts and explanations to deliver to the team present, “It’s regarding the Infinity Stones-“

The team glances at one another in alertness, except you. You have never come across anything referring to these ‘Infinity Stones’. They must be before your time with the team.

Your suspicions are proven once Tony raises a point, “What about them? We cleared all that mess up with them being hunted down years ago. They’re safe.”

Stephen subconsciously grabs at the ‘Eye of Agamotto’ decorating his neck and harvesting the precious, emerald green Infinity Stone within.

“Correct, we did clear that mess up. However, there’s someone else who wants them, someone who is well equipped, even beyond our skill set I fear.” Stephen explains to the group.

You choose to watch the details unfold, knowing any engagement will cause the team to stutter in progress, as you attempt to piece together the unknown situation at hand.

“Strange, who is after the stones?” Wanda timidly questions, attempting to navigate her way through the information being provided and to determine the overall safety of Vision and the Mind Stone situated within his system.

“The culprit in question is Thanos. He’s a Titan, not of our world. He’s dangerous, he has even the big guys at S.H.I.E.L.D scared. He’s not working alone- has a close following, who are also determined to get each and every one of those stones that we are all responsible for the protection of.” Fury chooses to take some heat from Stephen, whilst giving out key details.

“This all sounds great and all, truly wonderful but we already stopped Galactus wanting his fair share of the stones, so this should be a piece of cake. God, you know you two had me going there, I thought this was going to be a challenge.” Tony sarcastically remarks towards the statements made, refusing to see the bigger picture of the threat at hand. To him, there is no one out there as powerful as Galactus, meaning anyone who chooses to seek his demise is welcome to it- the Avengers will show them what it means to threaten their World.

“Stark, in case you hadn’t noticed, several of your team members are not present. I don’t think this is a joke.” Fury sternly puts across to the eccentric Avenger.

“Wait, where’s Buck? Why isn’t he here?” Sam worriedly enquiries, causing Fury and Stephen to focus their disturbed stare wherever it chooses to land.

“Where is he?” Steve stands up to back Sam, wondering why one of his closest friends isn’t present at the current meeting if the situation is as severe as can be.

“H-he’s gone.” Strange says in a monotone way, trying to remove himself from the dark memories that still cloud his mind from his most recent battle alongside the Winter Soldier.

The mixture of confusion etches its way onto the group’s faces, “Gone? Sir, what do you mean like a vacation?” Peter Parker lets out alongside a voice crack, desperate to understand the meaning behind Stephen’s words.

Strange releases a sigh at Peter’s innocence, “No kid… like Director Fury said Thanos has a following behind him. We didn’t stand a chance on our own. That’s why I’m here to plead for your help.”

Sam furiously makes his way to the front of the room in an attempt to intimidate Strange with his anger, causing Steve and Bruce Banner to block his path-being the closest individuals in his way.

“You swore you would protect Bucky! You swore on your damn life, Strange. He was sent to you for help and guidance-“ Sam’s outburst is interrupted once Stephen makes a move to plead his case.

“I did what I had to do to protect the ‘Time Stone’. Bucky was well aware of the sacrifice he was making, it was he who bet his life on it, Wilson. There was no stopping him. If it wasn’t for Bucky, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

The rising tensions in the room have raging consequences to your self control, or lack of it. Your skin starts to burn furiously as it attempts to harbour your cosmic-like abilities. Feeling the surge of power rising you make a point to stand and leave the room quietly in order to not disturb the meeting.

“Oh look, what a surprise, y/l/n is leaving us again. No explanation, nothing.“ Tony Stark unfortunately notices your attempt at leaving.

Tears start to flood your eyes as you work on some much needed breathing exercises to remove your rising anxiety- especially with knowing that the attention is now on you.

A wildly unimpressed Nick Fury goes to defend you, however Natasha Romanoff beats him to it, “Tony, just for once in your life, can you not be a total ass and actually make an effort to treat this whole group as a Team. Past tensions or not, we need to work together. Y/n is part of the Avengers, she’s not our enemy.”

You quickly turn around in surprise at the Black Widow’s words, never having heard her defend you in such a way before.

Clint turns to his friend, “Nat, it’s not like she has a great track record of teamwork. I mean come on y/n, do you even want to be here right now, to actually help us?”

You stutter out a reply, “I-I know it may seem like I don’t like you guys, but I do. Just with my powers, I don’t want to mess up and hurt any of you.” You bow your head down at your revelation to the team, knowing now is the time for honesty.

Stephen makes his way towards you to place a gentle hand on your shoulder, showing no sign of fear, “y/n, out of all people, it’s you we need. I know your abilities, and against Thanos, they might actually give us a chance. I come to you as a… friend. Please can you help us? Use your fears to create something to be proud of, because hell I’ve seen you fight in more realities than one. I know in this one, you’ll be our saving grace.”

Your lip begins to twitch in worry, knowing you want to believe Strange’s words. That you can in fact do good. Though the majority of the team remains ignorant to your past mistakes, you can’t let them keep controlling your actions in the present.

Even though you can’t fully trust what he’s saying, you know you can’t find it within yourself to decline his request for help. You mutter a barely audible ‘Okay’ and make your way back to your seat. Quickly concealing yourself in the comfort of your charcoal hoodie.

Soon after, Thor barges his way through the doorway of the meeting room, standing tall and mighty as ever.

“Fellow Avengers. I came as soon as I heard your distress call.” Thor releases in a fatigued manner, having seemingly travelled a great distance to the compound.

“Thank you for being here Thor, I assume you understand as to why we have called upon you for your assistance.” Stephen asks the God of Thunder.

Thor absent-mindedly swings the Mjölnir weapon he rightfully carries in his worthy possession back and forth as he addresses Stephen, “I do, Heimdall explained the situation before I took my leave from Asgard.”

Stephen hums in acknowledgment, “Excellent, we’re going to need all the help we can get. Is there anything else you can enlighten us with concerning this ‘Thanos’ character?”

“I believe I can help with that.” Stephen’s words are quickly followed by the God of Mischief himself- Loki.

Displaying his characteristically sly smirk, he paces himself into the room with his hands displayed behind his back- removing a defensive stance.

You study him carefully as he makes a point to engage in eye contact with all those present- ultimately intimidating some, due to past instances of battle.

For you, this is your first encounter with the infamous Loki.

“Oh hell no. He’s not working with us. We’re desperate, but not that desperate.” Nick Fury answers in a stern tone, highlighting his complete distrust for Loki.

Loki leans against the wall near you, sending you an amused smile at your curious state before addressing Fury with a harsh whistle, “Ooh, that’s no way to speak to your saviour. I mean honestly, I am the only one in this poor excuse of a sanctuary who is qualified enough to understand what we’re really dealing with here. Thanos is not to be underestimated, he’s bold, cruel and ruthless. He will not hesitate to destroy worlds, universes and dimensions to gather those stones in that wretched gauntlet he so chooses to wear.”

Steve quirks his eyebrow in interest at Loki’s words, “Gauntlet? Nothing has been mentioned of the sort. What’s his plan?”

Loki pushes himself away from the wall with a sigh, preparing to explain his knowledge associated with Thanos, “I know what you all think of me. How my desire to rule Asgard tilted my judgement in, well let’s just say wicked but intelligent ways.”

The Avengers display the same unamused expressions as they follow Loki’s walk across the room; having been on the receiving end of most of his cruel tricks and schemes.

“As I assured my brother, that desire is being put on hold- for now. Thanos must be stopped. From intel I so cleverly managed to gather upon my temporary alliance with him and his army, I know he wishes to use the stones to replicate the destruction caused on his home planet of Titan. He defines his mission as an attempt to create balance.” Loki states to those gathered around the metal table, being filled with notes as new information comes to light.

Stephen scowls at one of the table legs displayed in front of himself, having remained standing from addressing the group, “Genocide, I’m aware of his past actions. The question is, how do we stop him for good?”

Loki takes a moment to bite his lip as he uses his hands to gesture to the group, “The Earth’s mightiest heroes have protected the Infinity Stones once before against an individual even more powerful than Thanos. I’m sure you can think of something.”

Natasha shakes her head as she concludes the informative sentence she was writing during Loki’s speech, “Okay, so we need a plan of attack, does anyone have any suggestions?”

At that moment you attempt to shuffle yourself further into your chair. That is until you catch Stephen’s eye, causing him to raise his eyebrows in an expectant way. With a small grunt of effort, you straighten your posture to seem engaged with the group.

Thor is the first one to say, “Perhaps it would be best to retreat for the purposes of protecting the stones in our possession.”

Loki gives his brother a dense look, “Brother, hiding is never the answer. Besides he will find you in an instant, how do you think he located the other stones, and regrettably killed some of your friends in the process. You need to outsmart him. Fight him on known territory.” He lets out in an obvious manner- to himself at least.

Wanda’s lips part slightly once an idea enters her mind, “I know a place. It’s out of the way, we could manipulate it to be a common ground for us, and a foreign area to him.”

Vision directs his gaze to Wanda, “You don’t mean The Temple?”

She nods at his question.

“Temple? What Temple?” Clint demands, hoping that they’re getting somewhere with this mission.

Wanda twists her expressions in hesitation, “I haven’t told anyone other than Vis, but I have been looking into the teachings associated with my role as the Scarlet Witch. I know I should have mentioned it to you all, but I wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting myself into before revealing the… harsh realities of the lessons I am to undertake.”

Stephen lets out a knowing sigh as he moves to rub at his strained temples, “Do I even want to know what magic this is concerned with, Wanda?”

With a quick shake of her head, Wanda continues her briefing to the team, “The Temple itself is located on the top of Wundagore Mountain. We could use the base of the Mountain as a fighting front. It’s out of the way- no civilians will be harmed and most importantly I know the area, we can make it a worthy battle ground and retreat if necessary.”

Nick Fury praises Wanda’s efforts, “It’s a good start Maximoff, well done.”

Wanda feels a swirl of pride run through her system, until Bruce Banner interjects, “Not to rain on your parade and all, but Thor did strike up an excellent point.”

The God of Thunder looks around in surprise, “Oh well, thank you Banner. I am known to be the smartest son of Odin after all.”

Loki folds his arms as he directs an offended, ‘Hey’ towards Thor, to which the blonde responds with a pert smirk.

Steve allows his pen to steadily tap against the desk in front of himself as he raises his input, “What do you have in mind, Banner?” He can’t help but keep his eyes focused on the actions he’s carrying out in front of him, desperate to absorb the information being given without having to stare into the sorrow expressions within the room.

Bruce fidgets awkwardly as the attention is guided over to him, “Well, what if we split the team up? Some of us retreat, hide even. That way if Thanos finds one half of the team, we can make it difficult for him to locate the others-“

“Because if we’re all in one place, we’re practically handing him the stones.” Sam finishes off Bruce’s point, causing the Scientist to gesture towards The Falcon with a nod of approval.

Tony adjusts his signature A.I. enhanced glasses to sit comfortably on the bridge of his nose, “Alright, so we split the team up; disperse the stones in our possession.” He nods towards Stephen harnessing the Time Stone and Vision with the Mind Stone. “What if he doesn’t take the bait?”

The team ponders for a few seconds until Loki brings up a point, “Perhaps we shall take some of the members present to Asgard. It’s safe, we’re well prepared for any battle and I don’t think Thanos would consider looking for two stones there-“

“Two?” Thor questions, knowing the plan being created involves the separation of the stones.

Loki sighs at his Brother’s questioning and uses a force of his own to reveal the Tesseract in his hand.

The team’s eyes widen at the Space stone, relieved that Thanos has not yet obtained it. Yet hesitant that Loki is currently acting as its guardian.

Loki quickly removes the Tesseract from his hand using his magic, knowing its signature radiation trace can be detected by the Titan himself, “What? You didn’t really think I came here unprepared did you?”

Peter Parker leans on his chair towards Sam’s ear to whisper, “Why don’t we trust him again?”

Sam simply looks at Peter with a bemused expression, wondering why the teen was questioning him over Loki, “Dude, I don’t know. Ask Tony.” Sam replies in a similar manner.

Peter twitches his mouth before using his foot to guide his chair over to Tony to redirect the same question, hoping for an answer.

“So far the plan is worth considering. If we make it harder for Thanos to get these stones then we’re in with a chance. The only question is, who’s going to Asgard? Keep in mind, we want him at the Temple to use Wanda’s advantage so consider Asgard as a ‘safe retreat’.” Strange puts across to the group.

Wanda immediately follows his words, “Vision will be going. I’ll stay at the Temple and fight.”

“Wanda, it’s too dangerous. I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for me.” Vision expresses as he grabs his love’s hand.

“I can’t lose you Vis, even if it means putting myself at risk. I need to try and protect you the best way I can.” Wanda shakes her head in an attempt to stop the pained tears from flowing.

Vision uses his thumbs to wipe them away as Wanda fails to conceal them. He knows once her mind is made up, there’s no changing her decision. He pulls her into his embrace, knowing this may be the last time he can seek comfort from Wanda.

The team looks away to give the couple some space to appreciate the time they have together.

Tony speaks first, “Peter, you’re going to Asgard, I can’t put you in harm’s way. Strange, I’ll go to the Temple.”

Stephen nods in appreciation of Tony’s willingness to help, knowing at this point he will be the bait at the Temple-using the Time Stone as a lure.

Peter’s eyes widened in horror, “No, Mr Stark. I can fight, let me help. I can-“ Tony releases a heavy sigh, silencing Peter’s plea.

“Kid, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you. Please, go and protect Vision.”

Peter bites his lip in disappointment, though he nods to take in his mentor’s words.

Tony gives Peter a Fatherly pat on the back, knowing he must do what he can to protect him.

“Let’s move this along. Who here wants to go to Asgard, raise your hands.” Fury orders the team.

Thor, Loki and Bruce raise their hands in confirmation.

A few seconds later Sam raises his hand, “I want to be there if that son of a bitch even thinks about taking the final stones. I want to do this for Buck. Is that okay man?” He directs to Steve.

Steve smiles sadly, “Make us proud up there, Wilson.”

Fury nods in respect, “Understood Wilson, I will also be in attendance, we can’t take any risks if he gets the Time Stone.”

Clint smacks his hands on the table as he gets up, “Alright, so it’s settled,‘Team Wundagore is: Me; Nat; Wanda; Strange; Rogers; Stark and…” Clint hesitates when he faces you, causing a gnawing sensation to play within your stomach.

You know the team is waiting on your decision, to which you’ve already decided throughout the process being discussed.

“Y/n, maybe it would be best if you went-“ Fury starts until you cut into his sentence.

“I’m going to Wundagore Mountain, I want to fight- to help.” You say with a shaky intake of breath and a firm grip at the hardened material forming the chair beneath you.

Your insecurities are still there, but you cannot just stand aside when your team needs you, no matter how scared this upcoming mission is making you.

You want to prove to not just yourself but to the Avengers that you’re still strong and that you can do this. You’re worthy of a place on this team, and you’ll do what you can to show that after your past withdrawals.

“This should be fun, let’s see how long you last on the battlefield this time y/l/n.” Tony lets out with a trace of a callous nature.

Yeah, this is going to be harder than you anticipated.

—————————————-

“Wanda, how do you know about this place again?” Natasha asks as she studies the desolate grounds around her and takes in the snow covered rock formation beneath them.

“Maybe we shouldn’t ask questions we don’t want to know the answers to.” Wanda says with a grimace, knowing her acting mentor wouldn’t be best pleased with the contents of the Darkhold’s teachings.

“Yeah well it couldn’t have been somewhere warmer? Where the hell are we anyway?” Clint asks through multiple shivers, hating the piercing cold temperatures acting upon his skin.

Stephen closes the portal used to transport the team to the Mountain, “Come now Barton, you’ll soon warm up when you come face to face with an ‘unbalanced’ and deranged Titan.”

Clint lets out a dramatic shiver and grumbles as he addresses Natasha, “He’s joking right?”

Natasha shrugs at her best friend’s antics. “You are quite dramatic.” She says in a teasing manner, not caring for the crisp air around her.

The Hawkeye himself rolls his eyes as he drags his feet towards the makeshift group huddle being formed, standing next to you in the process.

Stephen addresses the group present, “Team, I’m not going to lie to you, I don't know how we will fair out on this one. Some of us may survive, others… may not. This is dangerous, play it safe. Do what you can to protect not just yourselves, but your team members, your family.”

You bow your head as you take in the words being directed to the team. You can’t fail, not again. You want to make everyone proud, to prove to them that your isolation wasn’t out of spite, but out of protection for all those concerned with the Avengers. You just hope your powers are maintained throughout the upcoming battle.

Steve takes a moment to add to the guidance being given, “Strange is right. Stay close, work together and have each other’s back. Most importantly, keep a level head, keep calm-“ Just at that moment, a voice is heard from behind the group, startling them all.

However, the surprise presence catches Clint off guard mostly, causing him to release a high-pitched shriek, alongside a well targeted arrow from his quiver- sending it straight through his unanticipated target. You stumble away from him at his actions, attempting to avoid his frantic state from influencing your already creeping anxiety.

Loki proceeds to watch the arrow pass right through himself, snapping his gaze back to the archer, “Ouch, it’s almost like you meant it Barton.” Loki teases, feeling no sensation from Clint’s defensive actions- with having the ability to become present at the Mountain through his Astral-projection capabilities.

“Oh for the love of- what’s ‘Reindeer Games’ doing here?!” Tony releases in a fed up manner- taking note to comment on Loki’s full, royal and battle worthy attire.

“Play nice Stark, keep in mind we will cross paths again if this plan works out for both teams today.” Loki warns the Billionaire, causing him to release an unamused scoff.

“I was sent to ensure that you were all prepared. Your Director seems on edge, though I can’t understand as to why?” Loki lets out in a mocking manner as he witnesses Clint seeking warmth from an impatient Wanda, as she uses her hand to create a gathering of Scarlet red tendrils- to provide him with enough heat to keep his annoyance at bay.

“We’re fine, how is the situation on Asgard?” Steve redirects to Loki.

Just as Loki goes to answer, the group feel an increase in the breeze travelling through the grounds of the mountain.

You squint your eyes in an attempt to focus your vision on what could be causing the unnatural force.

That’s when you notice in the clouds above, the looming and frightful spacecraft hovering above. Equipped with a menacing red light, circling through its system and no doubt powering its impressive, yet intimidating structure.

“I must return to Asgard, I can only wish you luck. Whatever you do, don’t underestimate them, and don’t cower in fear against them. Show them what you’re capable of, what you’re destined to protect.” Loki raises his voice to compensate for the blaring sounds of the spacecraft’s engines and the wind it produces.

Just as Loki is about to vanish he catches your gaze, “Show them who you really are, own your gift.”

You stand there in a struggling manner as you attempt to combat the force eager to have you floored. However the team has presented Loki’s mischievous ways, you can’t help but take on his wisdom directed to you. Even when you fear that your team will doubt you, Loki shows you that you’re trusted to fight against Thanos, you just need the courage to do so in your super powered ways.

A cerulean blue beam travels from the metallic form in the sky, alongside it the winds settle down, allowing the team to stand together against the presence attempting to take the stone delicately hanging from Strange’s neck.

“Looks like they took the bait.” Stephen muses to Steve.

“It was always going to be this way, he wants to pick us off one by one. We can’t let him get to Asgard and fight the others.” Steve replies as he resides his iconic Captain America shield in front of himself for defence.

“One problem at a time, Rogers. We will find out what we’re really dealing with here and then we can figure out how to stop them from seeking the Mind and Space Stone- happy?” Stephen finishes off abruptly as four menacing figures grace the land in front of them, having used the beam to teleport down to Earth.

You can’t help but allow your breathing rate to increase. Knowing at this point, the situation is becoming very real- you may not win this fight.

The Avengers replicate a line formation in solidarity, attempting to show their willingness to fight the unwanted newcomers. As they tense their muscles and ready their grips on any weapons that they choose to possess, you join the end of the line, hoping to recapture a steady mindset in order to concentrate on your potential attacks that will assist the team in any which way to protect the Infinity Stone.

As the spacecraft’s beam vanishes, it allows one of the members from the opposing side to take a minor step forward as they use their purposeful hand to gesture to themselves and the three alien-like creatures standing by- wasting no time in terms of introductions, “Hear me, and rejoice. You are about to die at the hands of the ‘Children of Thanos’. Be thankful, that your meaningless lives are now contributing to-“

Having heard enough of the raw-boned individual’s attempt at intimidation, Tony raises his voice, “I’m sorry, Earth is closed today. You had better pack it up, and get out of here.”

The self proclaimed Child of Thanos tilts his head in disbelief, wondering who could muster up the courage to address him in such a way.

A few seconds pass as they direct their conversation towards Strange, “Stone keeper, does this chattering animal speak for you?”

Tony scoffs at the insult relating to his supposed nature. As he readies himself to retaliate, Wanda holds her hand up to silence him, knowing Stephen should take the lead of the conversation- in hopes that a deal can be settled opposed to a lethal battle.

Stephen clears his throat to address Ebony Maw- who’s identity remains unknown to the Avengers, “That’s a little harsh, but I’ll allow it-“ Tony snaps an offended glare at Strange as his words.

“Let it be known that you are trespassing on this planet. Leave now and we won’t have to initiate our defence.”

Another member of the Black Order comes forth to interact with the team, “Don’t worry, we won’t take long against your puny defence. Give us the Stone, and we’ll be on our way. We may even spare your lives.” Proxima Midnight makes an effort to twirl her weaponised staff

Natasha displays a hardened expression as she attempts to unnerve the opposition, “Over my dead body, the Stone remains with us. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

Proxima Midnight activates her weapon, sending sparking blue charges across the top of the device- ready to fire, “That can always be arranged.” She goads Natasha, knowing that if it comes to it, the Order will not hesitate to kill any member of the Avengers- that is if they continue their stubborn efforts to protect what they came for.

Ebony Maw raises a hesitant hand to his fellow Black Order member, “That shan’t be necessary. The ‘heroes’ that see themselves worthy enough to protect the Stone will understand the great Titan’s vision and therefore allow us to proceed with our quest to obtain the fourth Stone.”

The team tenses knowing Thanos has at least three stones in his possession, they can’t afford to let him seek another.

However, Clint refuses to stand down to the threat present, “Come on, you’re more delusional than we thought. You can’t seriously believe that your ‘great Titan’ is doing this for the good of Humanity?!”

You guide your vision to study the Children of Thanos, trying to gauge their reaction to Clint’s statement. Though to your discomfort, you come to understand that one Black Order member in particular- Corvus Glaive is observing you in interest.

You feel your system tense as he goes to whisper unknown words into Proxima Midnight’s ear, making her aware of his recognition of your identity.

Once he pulls away from delivering his hushed words, she displays a sinful smirk- to which you remain ignorant to its nature, that is until she announces their awareness of you.

“Who knew we’d be fortunate enough to be in the presence of not just an Infinity Stone, but one of the last remaining ‘Legendary Super Saiyans’. We came to the understanding that your kind ceased to exist, not long ago.”

The team looks between themselves to deduce who she is referring to, that’s when they notice your pale features becoming present from the sickening feeling of worry coming from Proxima Midnight’s words- and the harsh reality of your past actions once again looming in your mind.

You can feel the stares of your teammates burning into your skin, knowing they’re in need of answers that you’d rather run away from than clarify, “I-I’m not sure that I follow-“ You begin to stutter out, playing ignorant towards her statement. However a mocking sneer from Proxima Midnight sets your panic in motion.

“Do not mistake us as fools, your powers of destruction are legendary. We could use you on our quest for balance, for justice to those who choose to wrong us, such as these ‘heroes’ you choose to stand with.”

Steve stands out of the line to view you in an uncertain way, “Y/n, what are they talking about?”

You never did explain the full nature of your past mistakes to your team members. Fury and yourself thought it was wise to change key details, to protect them from the worry of the capabilities you attempt to hide at this point. To their knowledge, Fury took an interest in your combative skills and offered you a place on the team- everything else was on a ‘need to know’ basis.

“Y/n? How noble of you to think that one simple change of your name can remove the severity of your actions. You remain a legend throughout our entire universe… Broly- an alias that you are choosing to deny? You must harvest powers that would equal to at least three Infinity Stones, join us.” Ebony Maw stretches out his hand towards you as he decides to add to the clarification of your past life, fuelling your heightening emotions.

The sound of your laboured breaths fills the atmosphere, you rack your mind for any answer that you can muster up under the attention of the Black Order and your teammates, “T-that’s not who I am anymore. I’ve changed for the better, I help people, I-I’m not a bad person. I just lost control-“ You cannot help but allow yourself to ramble your thoughts, feeling hot and desperate tears cascade down your face.

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Proxima Midnight aims her weapon directly at you and sends three uneven, cosmic blue charges surging towards you.

The team barely has time to flinch at the actions as you can’t help but allow your defence mechanisms to kick in. One of your abilities has always been enhanced reflexes, meaning you’re able to anticipate and dodge each charge before they even have a chance to enter your personal space.

As the first blast torpedoes its way towards you, it’s as though time has stood still for you and before you know it, your martial arts instincts kick in.

With a determined swing of your arms you push your body down; anticipating the force needed to throw yourself into the air, to dodge the oncoming attacks. With a forceful kick of your legs, you surge your body upwards- levelling out to perform an intricate ‘Butterfly kick’.

As your body briefly glides through the air, you can feel the scorching heat radiating from two of the blue charges as they soar just below the skin of your abdomen. Finishing off with a graceful twist, you land on your dominant foot before throwing yourself into another flip to miss the final charge.

Power being forced through your leg muscles allows you to kick yourself up into a tuck position before branching your legs apart to compensate for a light landing-having mastered a flash kick in your early days of training.

Once you’re confident all of the offensive charges have passed, you steady yourself before sending your own orbs of attacks. Channelling the ki energy from within, you do not hesitate to send several luminous green ki blasts towards the Black Order, alongside a breath of exertion from the force you’re having to use- in an attempt to fight back.

The four members stagger in different directions to dodge your unexpected attack, however you manage to land a hit on Ebony Maw’s head. Causing him to release a grunt of pain.

A scowl makes its way upon his features, as the burning sensation caused by the hit increases on the surface of his skin.

You release breaths of a mixture of anxiety and excitement. You’ve kept your powers on a lowdown ever since the incident, causing you to rely heavily on your combat skills when it came to team missions.

Having this in mind, this justifies the dumbfounded expressions across the majority of your team member’s faces. Some being unaware of your unprecedented gifts.

“Holy crap! Since when could you do that?!” Clint exclaims, not knowing whether to be intrigued or worried about your hidden, enhanced side.

“Who cares? Keep this up y/n and we might actually have a chance at winning this battle.” Natasha says towards your direction as she goes to smack Clint around the head for acting hysterical in front of the Children of Thanos.

As the tensions rise, Steve addresses the team, “Alright Avengers, assemble.”

The team readies themselves to charge forward with their own unique forms of attack. Unlike Tony who sighs at the Captain’s words, “You just had to ruin it, Cap.” As Tony powers up his suit in anticipation to fight, he guides his harsh stare towards you, “Just… don’t mess this one up. Think you can do that, just this once?”

You ignore the meaning behind Tony’s words and internally boost yourself up for the battle.

You can do this, this should be easy right.

Right?

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

Taglist: @beefromanoff

Part 2

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

Text

pov: your camera roll if you were an avenger (chaotic ed.)

when this picture was taken, tony and bucky still had animosity between them. steve had the "genius" idea to host game night to boost team morale and strengthen friendships or whatnot. in short, tony and bucky got in a fight while playing candyland and were put into time out together.

when nat proclaimed a girl's night. you and yelena were expecting face masks and gossip; instead, nat took you to a vineyard where you all got hammered. yelena was complaining, but she cheered up instantly after getting the number of the pretty girl working up front.

tony had just ordered an iron man themed electric toothbrush only to have it go missing two days later. the poor man had accused a total of six SHIELD agents of petty crime before he ransacked the entire tower. turns out, morgan had taken it.

bruce had invited dr. strange to his lab to study the mirror dimension using quantum physics analysis. tony was conveniently hosting a backyard barbeque and strange was confronted by his greatest weakness: hot sauce. once he started eating his spicy wings, tony quickly got him drunk and he never ended up returning to the lab.

after fighting extraterrestrial creatures that had escaped from asgard, thor suggested getting a snack. instead of destroying a shwarma restaurant like last time, tony ordered takeout. a lot of takeout. they had leftovers for three days.

yelena wasn't the best cook, and after all the leftovers had been eaten, she ended up having to make her own meals. you took this picture after the two of you had managed to turn off the smoke alarm. (she burned her chef boyardee pasta.)

wong had challenged wanda to a game of jenga—with a twist. instead of removing blocks with their hands, they had to use their magic. the two of them got so competitive that they ended up playing until 3AM. the game only stopped when wanda fell asleep and fell onto the table, knocking the tower over altogether.

strange and wong had gone out to go shopping for their new apprentice's birthday gift when bruce had flagged them down. banner had begged them to let him investigate their emporium, which they reluctantly agreed to. it was better than hours of quantum physics equations in the lab.

shang-chi had recently set up a room in the tower but was still traveling between his personal apartment and the avenger's residence. you didn't understand why until he'd invited you to his apartment, where you met his hyperactive dog. yelena wasn't the biggest fan of dogs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

moodboard made by me (i do not own any of these images)

taglist: (comment to be added)

@yourallihave @im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87

masterlist | marvel masterlist

#avengers masterlist #avengers moodboard #marvel crackfic #avengers camera roll #bucky barnes camera roll #bucky barnes x reader #marvel reader insert #avengers reader insert #avengers team #peter parker x you #yelena belova

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catyo90 · 2 years

Text

Bucky x F!Reader: Sensations

Being the Avengers Medic was definitely a...odd job to say the least. Lets just say you never thought alien attacks or magic would be part of it. But you still did the job like a damn pro. Many times the others would come with all kinds of issues whether they were physical or even subconscious pain from old wounds and even a few times psychological pain.

The latter being mainly from the Bucky, he would usually come into the late of night into your office having awoken from a nightmare of his time under the control of Hydra. And tonight was no different. At least you thought it would be.

This time you were in your room reviewing over some of the medical records and started getting ready for bed that is until a knock on the door made you pause in your work. You opened the door to see a very tired and frustrated Bucky standing in the doorway with a pair of sparring pants on and a black tank top.

“Bucky...Are you alright.” Quickly looking over his body you saw no wounds or any kind of physical damage.

“I can’t sleep...”

“Oh...” You said looking around and motioned for him to come inside.

“Another nightmare?”

“No...surprisingly not this time.”

As you closed the door you noticed he was sitting down on the nearby couch examining his metal arm. Now that was new. Usually when it was something with his arm he would go to Tony or Bruce to have them look at it. Why he came to you was a mystery.

“Your arm?”

Bucky merely nodded as he felt the metal adjust as he moved it.

“You know I can’t fix that right. If your having technical issues Tony or Bruce would-.”

“It’s not that either.” He said a tad bit annoyed at the insinuation that he wouldn’t have done that. He sighed as he ran a hand though his hair taking a deep breath.

“Sorry. Its just...Every time I look at it...It just reminds me of all the innocent people I hurt...I know I could just rip it off but it does nothing to help, the nerves in my body attached to it become too painful...Not that I dont deserve it.”

You looked at him and then to his arm. You stood in front of him and gave a quick overlook until you spoke.

“Take your shirt off.”

Bucky looked up a bit confused.

“Don’t worry. I wont touch you too much. But if I can see where exactly its hurting then maybe I can try something to help.”

Bucky was about to speak but he knew how well you were with this sort of problem. Heck this probably wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened. Might as well do as the doc orders.

Taking off his shirt, it gave you a pretty damn fine view of his muscles and his scars as well. Some from when he was under Hydra’s control and others from his fights with the others. For moment you felt your face get a bit heated at the sight but you shook it off as you sat down next to him. You had feeling for him there was no denying that but you were certain he wasn't looking for anything like that, to believe he could feel the same way was simply hard for you not to want. Bucky was a good man, who has gone though hell. You never saw him as anything else than a victim and it pained you everyday knowing he felt almost nothing but hatred toward himself.

You looked at his metal arm and brought it to your lap as you turned it over to see near his shoulder and ribs were surgical scars. Clearly the ones where Hydra simply forced it onto the nerves. A shoddy job was an understatement.

“They did a shit job on you. No care or emotion in it.” You said moving his arm behind you onto the back of the couch so you could examine the points where the arm attached to the skin. You gently pressed your hand to the edge of the metal and saw Bucky flinch.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Its not that. It just tickled a bit.”

You smirked as your hand ran down the side of his torso for a moment before returning to his metal shoulder.

“I have to ask, can you even feel this?”

“Yes and no, I can’t feel your skin, but the pressure from it and the warmth as well. That I can feel.”

“That must be a strange sensation for you.”

You brought his metal arm back in front of you this time examining it with both hands.

As you were examining it, Bucky couldn’t help but sigh in relief from your touch on the metal. It wasn’t like he enjoyed others touching him but at the same time he did miss that feeling of someone caring for him. Even back during the war he had never met a girl like you. Someone who didn’t see him as just a soldier but as a man in need of affection.

You looked up at him and noticed he was staring at you, not in any bad way as far as you could tell. But those eyes. They were nothing like you had seen before. Once again you felt a bit warm in the face and this time you were sure you were blushing.

You brought a hand down to his wrist when he suddenly turned it over for you as his metal fingers felt underneath your wrist.

“Your pulse is slightly faster...Are you afraid of it or me.” He said felling the pressure of your fingers on his wrist as well.

"You could never scare me...even knowing this arm can crush metal and that you were once under Hydras control. I don't have any fear toward you."

"Then why are you nervous?"

"Because I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I hate seeing you like this. You seem..."

"Afraid?"

"Yeah..."

You let go of his hand and allowing him to move his metal arm away to adjust it.

"I'm only afraid I'll lose control. I don't want to hurt the others."

Bucky looked up at you and his features softened as he saw your eyes met his.

"I don't want to hurt you..."

He said gently grasping your hand in his metal one. You couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

"I know you can control yourself better now, but sadly it means that you have to endure more than the others could ever imagine. I know you would never hurt them...well maybe Tony when he bugs you enough."

Bucky chuckled at the statement as he sighed pushing his other hand through his hair. He watched as both your hands enveloped his metal one. Slowly it felt a bit warmer to him. Looking up at you he smirked and spoke.

"You know this is probably the best help I've gotten in a long while."

"Well I'm not sure about that but you are definitely welcome to come to me for any help."

"I'll take you up on that."

Both of you started staring into each others eyes. Soon you caught yourself and shook your head away trying you best to hide the blush slowly creeping onto your face.

“Ah hem, well you really should get some rest Bucky.”

“Yeah your right, maybe tonight I’ll even have a nice dream.”

Bucky stood up and walked toward the door with you behind him.

“Well...Good night”

“Wait...’

Bucky stopped himself at the entrance and leaned on the side of the entryway.

“Are you free Friday night? Natasha recommended a movie to me called “Moulin Rouge” I’ve never seen but it would be nice to watch it with someone.”

“Yeah I can stop by...but something feels like you had something else you wanted to say.”

“Well...”

You took a deep breath and planted a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips. Before he could even register what happened you quickly said goodnight before closing the door. You fell to the floor flustered and slightly embarrassed before you heard him speaking to himself.

“Yep...Still got it.” He started to chuckle and sighed as he made a small knock on the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow lyubovʹ“

Oh you most certainly would. You heard his steps fade away as you traced the edge of your face missing his touch already.

“I can’t believe I did that...” you said walking yourself to your bed grabbing a pillow and holding it close with the biggest smile on your face.

*lyubovʹ=Love*

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #reader insert #avengers fanfiction #fanfiction #catyo90 #bucky barnes #romance #new #winter solider x you #winter solider fanfiction #enjoy #avengers reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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peter-parkers-left-pinky · 1 year

Text

Y/n: I need to dye my hair.

Natasha: ...

Y/n: Or get another tattoo.

Natasha: ...

Y/n: Or a new piercing.

Natasha: Why?

Y/n: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

#marvel #mcu #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #y/n insert #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers reader insert #incorrect marvel #incorrect mcu #mcu reader insert #wanda maximoff #avengers #bucky barnes #incorrect avengers #incorrect avengers quotes

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missmonsters2 · 2 years

Text

Here You Are | Chapter 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x SingleMom!Reader

Summary: Natasha likes to think she's prepared for anything to happen. Nothing could ever surprise her because she was always prepared for the worst. But no one warned that she was sorely lacking in preparing for the best when it came to you.

Please do not repost/translate anywhere. Reblogs/Comments are much welcomed ♥

Series Masterlist || Library Blog

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications <3

Warnings: sorry you gave yourself a bad nickname for Tony to use against you

Count: ~4.1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I just—" Natasha sighs. "I just don't understand why I'm the one who has to stay with her."

"You don't want to?" Bucky asks as he licks the remnants of ice cream off his spoon.

"No, it's not that," Natasha shrugs. "I just—I don't know. She seems really uncomfortable around me."

"I think she's uncomfortable around all of us," Steve sighs. "I don't blame her. Whoever she's running from, it seems serious and she won't even talk about it."

"I think she likes me," Tony chimes in. "I mean, I'm definitely her favorite...or at least Anya's favorite."

Natasha snorts. "No, I think Bucky's her favorite."

"Or his arm," Tony grumbles. "What's so cool about his metal arm? I have a literal arc reactor in my chest."

Bucky merely has a shit-eating grin on his face as he continues to eat ice cream.

"Anyway, it has to be you for this to work," Tony changes the subject. "Now that a whole hospital was blown up, she doesn't really have a choice about bringing this guy in. It's Avengers business now and just because she won't go after them doesn't mean they're just going to stop going after her."

Tony walks to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee, measuring out a triple shot of espresso and ensuring it has an inhumane amount of sugar.

Natasha scrunches her nose in disgust at his cup. "That doesn't explain why it has to be me."

"Stop playing stupid, Romanoff," Tony wags his finger at her as he takes a long sip. "It's embarrassing."

"What?" Natasha mutters, but Bucky's just grinning again.

"Other than ignoring the fact that everyone else here has their own mission, you can't ignore that Anya looks the most like you. That dark reddish brown hair, her nose, and the shape of her eyes? You hiding a secret family like Clint is from us? Best friends don't have to do everything together, you know." Tony narrows his eyes in suspicion.

"Ha-ha," Natasha sarcastically laughs. "You know, that would totally be a plausible theory if I had a uterus. But I don't—because as you all should know—the lovely Red Room gives you an involuntary—"

"All right!" Tony cuts in, putting his hand up to signal Natasha to stop. "God, I hate when you use that one."

"And it never fails to win," Natasha smirks. "Hit me up when you have a comeback for that one, Stark."

"Whatever, Romanoff. You're still going to witness protection with her," Tony grins and starts throwing jazz hands. "Congrats on your new wife and child!"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You stare at the house outside as you hold Anya's hand. It was much more modest than what you had lived in before. In a way, you kind of liked how this cookie-cutter house on the edge of the street blended right in.

There wasn't much you had to carry into the house with the Avengers disguising themselves as movers and helping you as they checked everything out.

The move was when it became dark out to prevent too many nosy neighbors from coming up to introduce themselves.

"Are you tired?" You grin as Anya lets out a big yawn, swaying slightly on the couch.

Anya thought about denying it, but for once, she didn't need to push herself to stay awake. She nods, and you press a quick kiss to her temple before you pick her up.

You were cleared from the hospital a few days ago, fully recovering before you left to live in this new house—new life that Tony Stark had built for you.

"I'm just going to get her ready for bed," you look over to Natasha, who had been working on her laptop at the dining table.

"Oh, yes, of course," Natasha says stiffly. "Let me know if you need anything."

You only nod before leaving towards the bathroom. The entire day had an awkward atmosphere, and the majority of it was your own fault. You couldn't help but be stiff around the redhead.

You were nothing but a liar—a fraud.

A coward.

All you did was probably put Natasha at risk too.

You wonder what was going through Natasha's mind. You knew she was probably tasked with finding out more about who you were running from.

A part of you wanted to spill everything, but you knew better.

Everyone who knew died.

Granted, if you were found, they were all going to die regardless.

But for every person who knew, Anya paid the price. So, you were never going to reveal who it was. If the Avengers figured it out on their own, that was their prerogative, but it wouldn't be because you helped.

You could offer nothing to stop this person. You had nothing to offer, and you knew it was your own fault it was that way.

Helping Anya brush her teeth, you walk her towards your room and help her onto the bed. It was a three-bedroom house, but the third bedroom was to be used as an office space. If anyone visited, it would be strange to have three separate beds in the home.

You and Anya would share a bed while Natasha had her own room. There had been a bit of a fight over who would get the master bedroom. Natasha insisted that you should have it, while you insisted she should have for having to stick out here to protect the two of you.

In the end, Natasha won the battle, and you appreciate her tenacity.

You look at the time and find it wasn't as late as you thought. With it being winter, you sometimes forget that the sun sets at 4PM. It was 9PM now, and you did actually feel exhausted.

Determined to have a better start to the day tomorrow, you got ready for bed and slipped in next to Anya.

The way her chest expanded and fell in slow rhythm was comforting. She was so small, yet you don't think anyone could be braver than her.

What a remarkable child, and she was yours.

You brush her hair, and she stirs, only to settle on her side, snuggling into you.

The safe sound of her breath and nothing else lulls you to sleep.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha finds it difficult to remain asleep. She slips in and out of slumber every other hour, and it's making her irritated. Letting out a deep sigh, she turns on her back and stares at the ceiling.

The house creaks as it expands and compresses with the changing temperature. She can hear shuffling and a light snore from the room next to her if she's quiet enough. But she can also hear shuffling in the kitchen. Natasha sits up, sliding her hand under her pillow and grabbing hold of her gun. Clicking off the safety as she quietly leaves her bed, she opens the door silently. She remains slightly crouched as she walks against the wall.

As the kitchen comes into view, she finds she can't see anything. So, Natasha stands taller and quickly puts her gun behind her back when she sees Anya slowly pushing the dining room chair towards the counter.

Natasha should really say something; she knows she should. But a part of her can't help but watch the young girl so dedicated push the chair inch by inch to avoid scraping it against the floor. When it's where Anya wants, she climbs up the chair, trying to open the cabinet.

"Anya, why are you up?" Natasha decides to interrupt. The young girl jumps slightly and turns around to look at Natasha sheepishly.

"Oh, hi, Nat," Anya quietly says, her cheeks warm. "I can't sleep. Mom says she used to drink a glass of warm milk to go to bed. I want to try it too."

"And why isn't your mom with you?" Nat quirks her brow.

Anya fidgets on the chair, pinching her pajama shirt. "Mom's tired. She doesn't get a lot of rest, so I want to let her sleep."

Something in Natasha's heart clenches, and she lets a deep sigh out of her nose to relieve the pressure.

"Alright, how about I help you then?" Natasha offers with a small smile.

Anya seems to contemplate it before she nods. "Yes, please."

Natasha carefully makes her way over, tucking her gun into her pants at her back before she makes her way around to Anya. She opens the cabinet, grabs a mug, and grabs milk from the fridge and honey from a basket on the counter.

"You know, if you don't want to wake up your mom, you are always welcome to come to my room," Natasha suggests.

"You don't sleep?" Anya tilts her head to the side.

"I also have trouble sleeping at night but I probably don't need as much sleep as the two of you," Natasha explains simply.

"You should make a glass of warm milk too. We can drink it together," Anya smiles.

Natasha chuckles and moves to grab another glass. Anya doesn't say anything after, making Natasha wonder if the young girl is shy. She seems okay with talking to Natasha, but kids are usually much more chatty at this age.

There is a moment where Natasha contemplates asking Anya about who you would be running from. Would it be her father? Mother? Is someone related to them?

The last words of that woman imitating the nurse make Natasha believe it was a romantic interest.

"Cheers," Natasha holds her mug out towards Anya, who stares back at her curiously.

"You clink glasses and say cheers when drinking with someone else," Natasha smiles, tilting her head at the young girl.

"Why?" Anya asks.

Natasha hums. "Good question. People have been doing it for so long. I think to show that we're wishing each other a good time."

Anya's mouth forms a little 'o', and she carefully touches her mug against Natasha's. "Cheers," she mumbles, thinking about how she wants to try cheering drinks with you too.

Natasha drinks her milk slowly, observing Anya through the corner of her eyes. She feels reluctant to admit it, but Tony is right. Anya's reddish brown hair looks soft like Natasha's, and she can see the shape of their eyes and mouth are similar.

But Natasha knows that whatever they were thinking—what she couldn't help but think for a moment—is not real. The red room made sure of it.

So, Natasha starts to theorize who Anya's other parent could be. Tony had said Anya was definitely your match. So, whoever the other parent is would have to have genetic similarities to herself. She would have to look for an influential man with red hair, almond eyes, and thick lips. Or, if it was a woman, she would need to find clinics that did IVG procedures.

Natasha internally sighs. The scope is still too wide, and she hopes she can get more information as time passes.

Anya finishes her glass, letting out a yawn.

"Bedtime?" Natasha smiles, and Anya nods.

"I have to brush my teeth again. Mother doesn't like it if I don't brush my teeth," Anya mumbles sleepily.

"Mother?" Natasha repeats. Anya has been calling you mom, so—

Anya rubs her face, trying to stay away as she slides off the chair and makes her way to the washroom. Natasha follows after, helping the young girl grab her toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Can you do it?" Natasha asks, remembering how you had helped her earlier.

But Anya nods and takes the toothbrush, diligently doing it herself. Natasha wonders if you just prefer to spoil Anya, not that she could blame you.

"So," Natasha says quietly as Anya brushes her teeth, mentally counting in her head. "Does mother not like when you don't brush your teeth, or does mom not like it too?" It was a carefully worded question.

"I don't know," Anya says sleepily and a little gurgly with her mouth occupied. "Mom always helps me brush my teeth."

Natasha tries to ask more questions, but Anya doesn't seem to want to answer anymore. So, Natasha is left passing the young girl a cup with water in it before she walks Anya back to her room.

"G'night, Nat," Anya mumbles. "Thanks for helping."

"No problem," Natasha smiles. "Good night."

Standing alone in the dark hallway, Natasha is left thinking about what the young girl said.

How is it that you always help Anya brush her teeth if someone was upset before if Anya hadn't?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You're going to be a good girl, right?" You softly encourage Anya, despite your furrowed brows. You were anxious but didn't want to show your daughter that.

Anya nods, pursing her lips to prevent herself from crying.

"It'll be okay," you reassure her, brushing wisps of her hair out of her face. "I'm going to be back real quick. You'll hardly even have time to miss me."

"But I miss you already," Anya mumbles, and it's so cute that it pricks your heart as you hold her tiny little hands together. You kiss them and smile.

"Me too, but I'm sure Natasha will play with you," you look over to the redheaded woman and give her a small smile.

"Well, Tony has dropped off lots of coloring books and pencils. I'm sure it'll keep us busy," Natasha crouches down next to Anya.

Anya nods and lets Natasha grab hold of her hand as the woman stands up. You put your coat on with gloves and a big scarf, and it engulfs half of your face, and Natasha finds herself staring.

Cute.

"Alright!" Tony draws the attention to himself. "If we're as quick as Nikon says over here, we'll come back with some of the best hot chocolate."

Anya doesn't react as much as Tony hopes, but she does look curiously at him, and that's exciting enough.

"Nikon?" You quirk your brow.

"Yeah, you know, like the camera because you have—"

"Creative," you say dryly as you cut him off.

"I thought so," Tony smirks, ignoring your sarcasm.

"I actually used to be called Psych in college," you say offhandedly. "I majored in criminal justice."

"Wait, Psych like the show—" Tony starts to say excitedly.

"Ooh," Natasha hisses pitifully for you. "You're going to regret revealing that.”

"Everyone except Anya has to call you Psych from now on. Anything else gets them a punch in the gut,” Tony exclaims.

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Natasha sits on the couch, book in hand that she's stopped reading for quite some time. In front of her sits Anya on a cushion over the coffee table. The TV is on with old cartoons Natasha used to enjoy with Yelena.

The faint sounds of pencils scratching against paper accompany the television, and Anya is dividing her attention between the TV curiously and whatever she is drawing.

Anya had started with the coloring books but quickly grew tired of them before she moved on to drawing whatever she wanted on blank paper. There had been a couple of pictures she finished, and Natasha stared at them in scrutiny.

They were all pictures of you.

There are pictures of you sitting in the garden, cooking in the kitchen, in the dining room, or staring out the window.

Natasha knows that you have definitely instructed Anya to not talk about your...wife?

Anya would seem to start drawing another person before scribbling it out and turning it into something else. But Natasha wonders why Anya hadn't drawn herself in any of the photos.

"Aren't you going to draw yourself with mom?" Natasha asks as she closes her book and moves to join the young girl on the ground. She picks up some paper and pencils to help the young girl relax around her.

"I am in them," Anya says simply as she shades in your hair color. They're outside the lines slightly, but Natasha is impressed by the work nonetheless.

"Oh?" Natasha furrows her brow. "Where? I don't see you."

"I'm watching mom."

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Anya stares at Natasha with wonder in her eyes. She sits on the barstool at the counter, her little legs swinging back and forth.

"Do you like your bread toasted?" Natasha asks.

Anya nods.

"How about the crust being cut off?"

Anya nods.

"Do you want jam?"

Anya nods.

"Do you like it cut in half?"

Anya nods.

"Or left whole?"

Anya nods.

Natasha quirks her brow at the young girl.

"Are you just saying yes to everything? Do you even like all of these things?"

Anya fidgets with her fingers and shrugs. "I don't know. I haven't had it before. I'll eat whatever Nat thinks is good."

Natasha is taken aback.

"You haven't eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before?" Natasha asks with a frown. When Natasha lived with Alexei, Melina, and Yelena, she would eat them almost daily for lunch. She was sure it was a common food for young children still developing their taste buds.

The peanut butter sandwiches only stopped when Natasha returned to the Red Room.

"So, what did you eat before at home?" Natasha asks casually, returning to making the sandwich. She cuts it in half and only puts jam on one half of the sandwich to see if Anya will like it.

Anya hums in thought. "Chicken or salmon with vegetables and potatoes. Sometimes spaghetti or steak."

"That's all?" Natasha asks.

"Um," Anya frowns like she's being tested. "And salad."

"How about mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, pizza, burgers, fries, chips, or anything else like that?"

"Those are not good for you," Anya said gravely. "It will make you sick."

Natasha purses her lips, trying to not laugh at how serious the young girl looks. But Natasha also can't help but think it's sad Anya is missing out on such common foods other kids get to enjoy.

You don't seem like the type to be that strict on a diet because you had fed Anya M&Ms at the hospital. So, is it the other parent?

"But you had M&Ms before and you didn't get sick, did you?" Natasha points out.

Anya frowns again, thinking back before she shakes her head. "Mom eats M&Ms and she likes them and she's okay. M&Ms are okay."

Natasha can't help but chuckle then. What lovely logic. "I'm sure your mom has also eaten the same things I mentioned. She must like some of those things too. She's okay, isn't she?"

Anya is left thinking about what Natasha said, contemplating the logic.

"So," Anya drags. "They're okay? They won't make you sick?"

"Maybe too much of it will," Natasha smiles. "But eating too much of one thing isn't good for all foods."

Anya merely nods, accepting Natasha's words.

The peanut butter and partial jam sandwich is finished as Natasha places it in front of Anya, with no crust. She watches with amusement as Anya stares at it for a moment before carefully picking it up. She picks up the half that has peanut butter and jam and takes a small bite. There are a few careful chews, then a warm, excited smile. Anya takes a bigger bite, eating happily.

"Do you like the jam?" Natasha asks, and Anya nods, so she fixes the other half of the sandwich while the young girl finishes what's in her hand.

Natasha eats the leftover crust, scooping some of the remaining peanut butter on the knife.

They eat quietly, and Natasha thinks it's rather peaceful, and it reminds her of the days when Yelena was so young and they were happy. But unlike Yelena, who was boisterous and playful, Anya was more like Natasha, curious but quiet.

Natasha is about to say something else when she hears someone at the door before the keys jiggling, and it opens.

"Mom!" Anya smiles as she slides off the barstool, the sandwich still in hand as she runs to you.

Tony comes in after, suited down, and Natasha nods in greeting at him.

"Hi, sweetpea," you smile as you crouch and open your arms. "Did you have fun? What's that you got in your hand?"

"Uh huh," Anya nods. "Nat drew with me and showed me pinky and the brain and the powerpuff girls." Then she brings the sandwich to your face. "Nat made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It's yummy. Have you had it before?"

You look over at Natasha for a moment before looking back. "I have. It is yummy."

It's like your words confirm something for Anya as she bites her bottom lip for a moment before releasing it.

"Can I please choose what to eat for dinner?" Anya asks as politely as she can.

"Of course," you smile, kissing her cheek before brushing off some of the crumbs on Anya's lips. "What do you want to have?"

"Um," Anya looks up for a second. "Mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, pizza, burgers, fries, chips, or anything else like that."

Natasha is surprised by Anya perfectly recalling what she had listed and said.

You quirk your brow at the young girl, looking at Natasha for a brief moment. The other woman shrugs with a smile, and you return it.

"Alright, how about pizza? I'm pretty sure Tony will be happy to get us some since he's insisting to stay for dinner today," you turn your head back to look at him with a look.

"It's Uncle Tony, and I will happily order some even though burgers are better," Tony nearly sticks his tongue out at you.

"Burgers next time from Mr. Tony's favorite place," Anya says determinedly to appease Tony.

"You drive a hard bargain, kid. Also, it's Uncle Tony. Uncle."

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The evening passes with lots of chatter and laughter. Anya is warming up to Tony a lot more, and Tony is eager to get back and rub it in Bucky's face.

Anya claimed pizza was the best thing to ever exist, but Tony kept insisting the burgers next time would be better.

You hadn't said much during the evening, just smiling at the conversation and doting on Anya. Natasha joked and laughed along with Tony, but she couldn't stop watching you from the corner of her eye.

There were so many questions just on the tip of her tongue that Natasha wanted to ask so badly.

"So, how was it?" Natasha asks as she and Tony stand outside on the doorstep. "Did Y/—"

Tony glares at Natasha, and she rolls her eyes with a sigh. "Did Psych do okay out there?"

"It was insane," Tony replies quietly, adjusting his coat. "I've never seen someone with an eidetic memory like her. Most people who have it can usually only recall things for a brief period of time, and not in perfect detail. She's definitely got a photographic memory, maybe even perfect recall."

Tony looks back through the window to see you and Anya on the couch watching TV.

"You should've seen her out there. There was basically nothing left in the area. No footsteps or anything. Just banks of snow but she stared for two seconds before she started walking off in a direction. She just kept doing that until we encountered some bodies."

"Jeeze," Natasha huffed. "How did she react?"

"She didn't," Tony shrugged. "Not really. I think she expected them to be dead. I mean, there's really no means of shelter out there. She just asked if we could go home."

Natasha hums.

"Did you find anything out?"

Natasha shrugs. "Not much. I think it was definitely a woman that she was seeing. Anya mentioned another woman who was her mother. But I don't know if Anya has a bio dad that's not in the picture or if she was created with IVG. If it's IVG, based on Anya's features and traits, I have to assume this woman in question was also a redhead."

"A redhead who looks like you," Tony smirks. "Can't be too many of you walking around in a position of power. Are you sure it’s not you?”

Tony asks jokingly but Natasha answers seriously. “It can’t be. IVG was invented well after I left the Red Room. Not to mention children were considered a weakness. Also, Anya is only four, so it would’ve had to have been recent and I would definitely know if someone had used my cells after I left.”

Tony sighs. “Alright. So, a new mysterious, powerful redhead we have to find.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I don't think we're gonna find anything about this person publicly. We're gonna have to do some deep digging, but either way, we first have to find out how Anya was created."

"Perfect because nothing is ever easy for us," Tony sarcastically retorts. "Anything else?"

"Just some theories," Natasha shrugs.

"Share with the class," Tony says but then looks around. "Share with your classmate."

"Well," Natasha breathes. "I don't think Anya was allowed to be near Psych. Possibly she didn't even know about Anya until recently."

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