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ginnsbaker · 9 months

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Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her.

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet.

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue.

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes.

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation.

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you.

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents.

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold.

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act.

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger.

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name.

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters.

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening.

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #fic request

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 7 months

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The thought of beefy Bucky fucking me like he owns me (which he does😩) keeps running through my mind🤤🥵

SMUT DOWN BELOW!!

Bucky had you face down ass up on the bed. He was fucking into you with brutal and rough thrusts. You were a horny and whiny mess for your man.

“You’re so damn big!” You gasped.

“Fucking take my cock like the good girl I know you are.” Bucky says.

You jolted away slightly when you felt Bucky’s cold metal fingers rubbing roughly on your sensitive clit. His right hand pulled you back to him.

“What the hell did I tell you about moving away from me, doll?” He asks.

“N-Not to!” You whimpered.

“Then fucking stay still.” He says.

Your hands gripped the sheets, squeezing them for the life of you. Your orgasm was approaching you once again, but you had a feeling that Bucky was going to tell you to hold it again.

“Bucky, please let me- oh fuck! Cum! I-I don’t think I can hold it anymore!” You whined desperately.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl for me, go ahead, doll.” He says.

His metal fingers continued to rub your clit roughly. Your toes curled at the feeling of your orgasm coming closer and closer until you came so hard that your cum was dripping from in between your thighs and dripping down Bucky’s lower abdomen and thighs.

“Gonna fill you up till my cum is dripping out of you.” Bucky groans, tilting his head back.

“Please! I want it!” You begged.

“Of course you fucking do, you dirty little slut.” He growls.

Bucky came inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of his cum inside of your wet pussy. Bucky’s thrusts came to a slow stop. He was about to pull out, but you stopped him.

“No! Please stay inside of me!” You say, panting.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh and laid down next to you. He ran his metal fingers up and down your side.

“You did so good for me, doll.” He says softly.

“Mmm.” You hummed before falling asleep.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Beefy Bucky can have me😩

-Bucky’s Doll

#sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #beefy bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #the avengers #avengers #marvel #captain america civil war #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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fandomnerd9602 · 2 months

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Wanda: you know I can move things with my mind right?

Y/N: that’s not the only thing you can-

Wanda: detka!

Y/N: sorry. I’m a slave to your fingers

Wanda: I’ll show you my fingers later (winks)

Steve: can we focus on the mission?

Natasha: let them be, Rogers

For @lifespectator

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #captain america civil war #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff incorrect quotes

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vase-of-lilies · 11 months

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My Little Flower

❀ Grumpy!Bucky x Sunshine!Reader (F)

❀ Sexual Content, hand kink, fingering, fluff, loving sex 🥺, slightly jealous and possessive bucky, P in V sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, some douche bag trying to flirt with the reader, (if there is anything else please let me know!)

❀ Request: just some primal, sensual love with Bucky 😍 “Beefy Bucky for da win 🤤” (yes I agree!) ❀ Trope: Grumpy!bf x Sunshine!Reader

❀ A/N: This was requested through my blurb link! Thank you to the amazing anon who gave me this request! THANK YOU! I NEEDED THIS! I hope you enjoy it!!

When Bucky first met you, it was in your flower shop. He hadn’t seen such beautiful flowers since his time in Brooklyn back in the 40s. And once he saw you, he knew he needed to buy some flowers for you, his charm coming back once again. Even in hiding, he wanted you and he would hope you wanted him as well.

“Hello sir! How can I help you?” You ask the scowling man in front of you. He looked stunned at how happy you were, even in the presence of someone so… angry. Bucky couldn’t help but run his eyes over your bright yellow sweater and embroidered flowers on your jeans, a smile appearing on his face.

“Uh, what is your favorite arrangement that you have done?” He asks abruptly, catching you off guard with the question. You move from behind the counter and go to the large fridge holding all of your ready-to-sell bouquets. You point to a chrysanthemum and chamomile arrangement and explain the meanings behind the flowers.

“It’s my favorite because the yellow and pinks are just so bright, and it makes me happy.”

Bucky sweeps a hair behind his ear and into his hat, looking at the delicate bouquet that you put together yourself. He gently grabbed the brown paper bag-wrapped arrangement and walks to the counter with you. You tell him the total and he gives you what you need and then some. He then goes completely out of his comfort zone.

He musters up the courage and pushes himself, “Will you go on a date with me?”

You tilt your head at the man, a smile on your face. “I would absolutely love to. I get off in an hour, is that ok?” He nods and waits at the coffee shop just down the street from your shop, the flowers in hand and a small smile on his face.

From that day forward, you and Bucky had gone out and gotten to know each other. He trusted you enough to open up to you, and you were there for him when he had night mares. When he woke up in a cold sweat each night, you were there to calm him down and hold him until he fell asleep again.

He loved you, and he would never let you go.

When you came home from work, you seemed tense. Bucky could sense it when he met you at the door. “Are you alright, my flower?” You nod, but instantly sink into his arms when he wraps them around you. His scent of maple and brown sugar brought you comfort, and you knew that you were home.

“A guy came into the store today, a-and he-” You felt sick inside as you recalled the day's memory. “He told me no one would ever want to have sex with me, a-and that I would be better off with him. I- I made him leave and locked him out of the store, b-but I can’t help but feel he might be right.” Bucky growled to himself at the sound of someone hurting you, but his eyes softened at the tears that pooled in yours. He pulled you to the couch and kneeled down in front of you.

“Oh baby, that guy can go fuck himself. He doesn’t know who he’s talking about. You are so mesmerizing and I don’t know what I would do without you.” He pauses to grab your hands. “Let me show you how loved you are, and that you belong to me and only me.” He says in a low voice, his thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands comfortingly.

And boy, did he show you how loved you were. As you lay with your back against the headboard, Buckys thick fingers pump in and out of your soaking wet pussy. “Oh yeah baby, feel that? You feel how my fingers fit perfectly? No one else would be able to. Only me!” He growls possessively and you whimper in response. You reach for his other hand, his veins popping out as he flexes his fist in your hand. You bring his fingers to your mouth, and he smirks up at you. “You like my hand baby?” You nod shyly and smile around his fingers in your mouth.

He smiles in return and removes his jeans and boxers. He pulls your ankles to shift you down the bed and he hovers over your body. He was just getting started… “Are you ready, my little flower? You want daddy to fuck you?” You nod desperately and you run your fingers through his shoulder length hair, pulling it from its bun.

He moans as he pushes into you, and you bury your face in his neck. You cling to his broad shoulders and moan into his ear as you take his thick cock. “D-daddy, s-s-so big…” you whisper, making Bucky twitch inside of you. He lays you back down on the pillow and holds your hands above your head as he starts to move in and out of your wet hole. He squeezes your fingers and smiles as your face contorts into a face of pleasure.

As he fucks you, he talks to you and it makes you so happy. “I may be a grump, but you make my life so much better… my god you’re perfect…” he groans as you squeeze his cock, and he knows that you’re close. “Come on baby flower, I can feel how close you are, come apart on my cock.”

You listen to his command, instantly reaching your orgasm as moves his hand from yours to rub your clit. Your moans are like music to his ears and he nuzzles his nose against yours. His thrusts slow down and you reach down to hold his hips to yours, hinting you want him to cum inside of you. He looks at you just to make sure, and you nod. He thrusts one more time and his eyes close as his spend paints your cunt white.

“Mmm, baby flower.. I love you so much.” He whispers, gently pressing his lips your nose first and then capturing your plump lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue pushing against you. You happily open up, and he pushes all the way in. He stays inside of you for a couple minutes, rolling you over so you are on top of his chiseled body. You lay on his chest and he kisses your sweat-covered forehead.

“You’re perfect, and you’re mine… my little flower.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x Sunshine Reader #grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader #james buchanan barnes #James Bucky Barnes #Civil War! Bucky #Captain America Civil War

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espinosaurusrexex · 6 months

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I just found out about this and now I’m gonna need five to ten business days to recover - thank you 🥹

via @idkwidowsgrimm on TikTok

#excuse me while I cry myself to sleep #edits #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier #captain america civil war #natasha romanoff #winterwidow #james bucky barnes #marvel comics #rebecca barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader

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rogersideup · 1 year

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Nice to be Kneaded

Series masterlist

Nomad Steve Rogers x Baker Reader

Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. Steve Rogers face had been plastered on the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. It had been just a few long months shy of a year, just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, he found himself in the scanty town of Greenwood in the house right next to yours.

Chapters 1-18

⋆｡°✩ Chapter one: Welcome to Greenwood

⋆｡°✩ Chapter two: Inhale, Exhale

⋆｡°✩ Chapter thee: Nice to be Needed

⋆｡°✩ Chapter four: Captain-What’s-His-Butt

⋆｡°✩ Chapter five: Absdoughlutely

⋆｡°✩ Chapter six: Sunflower

⋆｡°✩ Chapter seven: Beautifully Natured

⋆｡°✩ Chapter eight: The Brewing Storm

⋆｡°✩ Chapter nine: Doomsday

⋆｡°✩ Chapter ten: The Snap

⋆｡°✩Chapter Eleven: Courage

⋆｡°✩Chapter Twelve: Homecoming

⋆｡°✩Chapter Thirteen: Cardboard Castle

⋆｡°✩Chapter Fourteen: Cinnamon Roll

⋆｡°✩Chapter Fifteen: Everything will be Okay

⋆｡°✩Chapter Sixteen: Crawl Home to You

⋆｡°✩Chapter Seventeen: Endgame

⋆｡°✩Chapter Eighteen: Good Luck Charm

⋆｡°✩ More fun stuff extended masterlist ⋆｡°✩

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waltermis · 7 months

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"I got red on my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out." Natalia Alianovna Romanoff Born: December 3rd, 1984 Died: August 2014/October 16th, 2023. Vormir. Daughter, Sister, Avenger Parents: Melina Vostokoff, Alexei Shostakov Sister: Yelena Belova

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #mcu #yelena belova #melina vostokoff #alexei shostakov #iron man 2 #avengers #captain america : winter soldier #avengers : age of ultron #captain america : civil war #black widow #avengers : infinity war #avengers: endgame

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ramen-flavored · 1 year

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Ladies and Gentlemen,

Him

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literaryavenger · 3 months

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Captain America: Civil War - 5

Summary: Team Cap gets taken to the Raft.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries. Language. Mentions of Y/N. A little angst if you squint. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Thank god it took me very little to finish this one! Hope you like it!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Raft.

That’s where they sent you after they arrested you in Germany. The fucking Raft.

You haven’t even seen Wanda since you were handed your very unstylish new clothes and they made you change.

You got separated from her when they took you to your cell between Scott's and Sam's. You dread what they're going to do to her, but you're powerless to stop them.

You sit on the ground of your cell and don’t move from there, barely registering what happens around you until the sound of clapping snaps you out of your trance.

“The Futurist, gentlemen!” Clint shouts but you still don’t move, just listening to the scene. “The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break, Barton.” You hear Tony say and almost show some emotion, but stop yourself. “I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on.”

You hear Clint spit and then say “Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint interrupts him. “Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Y/N, or Wanda. But here we are.”

“Because you broke the law.” Tony says.

“Yeah.” Clint says back and starts chanting “La la la la la” while Tony talks, making you grin slightly.

“I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it.” Tony keeps talking. “Alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side.” he says and your face falls again immediately, knowing Tony went too far.

“You gotta watch your back with this guy.” Clint says before slamming his hands on the bars angrily. “There's a chance he's gonna break it!”

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark.” You hear Scott say from the cell on your right.

“Who are you?” Tony says, his voice closer to you than before, and you can hear Scott mumbling “Come on, man.”

Tony gets to your cell and sees you sitting on the ground, hugging your knees tight to your chest, your head resting back on the wall while you look straight ahead.

Tony is nothing short of shocked when he sees your face all beat up and bruised, your arm bandaged with blood seeping through it showing just how big and deep the cut is, all courtesy of Ayo.

“I never wanted to see you like this...” Tony says softly but you don’t even react to his words.

He’s standing in front of you but it’s like he’s not even there, like you’re looking right through him to something more interesting behind him.

Tony sighs and shakes his head before moving to Sam’s cell.

“How's Rhodes?” Sam asks right away.

“They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… fingers cross.” Tony answers and you close your eyes, grateful that he’s still alive at least. “What do you need? They feed you yet?”

“You're the good cop now?” Sam asks almost in disbelief.

“I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.” Tony answers calmly.

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

“Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'.” Tony says, much too playfully for your taste. “We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his next sentence. “Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

Your eyes snap open at his apology and, even though you can’t see either of them, you know Sam’s feeling the same way as you, which is confirmed by his next sentence. “That's a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to-”

“Hey, it's alright.” Sam interrupts him, then you hear him sigh and after a little pause he says “Look, I'll tell you… but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.” Tony says and Sam proceeds to tell him all about the Hydra base in Siberia and the other supersoldiers.

When Tony leaves, Sam once again tries to make sure you’re okay even if he hasn’t had luck at getting an answer out of you since you got here.

He knocks twice on the wall between you two then pauses and then knocks three more times fast before talking, a thing you two started doing since you both moved into the Avengers Compound so you would know it was the other knocking right away. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and can hear him sighing before continuing talking.

“Look, I’m sorry you got caught up in this and-”

“I don’t regret the choice I made, Sam.” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, speaking up for the first time since you got arrested at the airport. “As much as this sucks, it was the right thing to do. I know it was.”

You don’t say anything else. Sam can tell you mean it and he knows better than to push you.

“They’ll be okay.” He says after a moment of silence and then lets you be.

You know he means Steve, Bucky and Tony but you can’t help but think he’s trying to reassure you that Bucky’s gonna be fine.

And you can only hope that he’s right.

A couple of weeks after Tony’s visit there’s a commotion in the prison.

You haven’t so much as made a sound since that day, aside from your daily knock on the wall between you and Sam so he can make sure you’re okay, knowing you well enough to know you don’t want to talk but still wanting to check in.

But you can’t help but let out a loud gasp when you see Steve just standing in front of your cells.

You look around when the cell doors open and you hesitantly get up from the floor and walk towards Steve. He hugs Sam, then you, then Clint and then pats Scott on the back, but doesn’t linger long before he’s guiding you towards another level where Wanda is.

You get to her just as the door to her cell opens and you rush inside with Clint to take off her collar while he takes off her straightjacket. You hug her tightly and wrap your arm around her with Clint to help her move you since she looks a little worse for wear.

You manage to move through the prison without problems. You have to hand it to Steve, he’s a hell of a criminal.

When you get to the landing pad you see the Quinjet ready for take off and you all rush inside just to see Bucky at the commands and you smile brightly at the sight.

You have no time to comment, though, as Sam shouts “What are you waiting for?! Go!”

Bucky rolls his eyes but calmly says “We have one more coming.”

You frown. One more? You turn to Steve confusedly but before you can ask anything you can see blond hair darting into the Quinjet and then Natasha’s there.

Bucky instantly takes off and you all take seats and buckle up.

There’s a moment of silence while everyone processes what just happened, but you break it while looking at Natasha that’s sitting directly in front of you.

“Are we gonna talk about the hair?” You ask arching your eyebrow with a smirk.

She groans in annoyance and you can hear the others chuckling while she says “We are not.”

After a few hours you all get to a safehouse and Steve ushers you in before showing you around.

It’s not bad: a secluded cabin with three bedrooms, not too big but Steve assured you you wouldn’t be staying there long anyway. Which makes sense, you're on the run now so this is just temporary.

After the tour Bucky approaches you in the living room and only then you notice he’s missing his metal arm.

“You flew the jet with only one arm? That’s impressive…” You can’t help yourself as you reach to touch his left shoulder, your eyes fixated on it. But stop on your tracks when you feel his right hand carefully cupping your cheek.

Your eyes snap up to his and you can see him thoroughly inspecting the wounds in your face that are still healing a little. He grimaces when he looks down at your bandaged arm and whispers “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sergeant.” You smile softly at him and put your hand over his still on your cheek, trying to reassure him that you’re fine.

“I bet you can, doll.” He chuckles.

You’re too busy staring at each other to notice everyone’s attention is on you until Steve clears his throat with an apologetic look on his face.

“We need to go, Buck.” He says and you look confusedly between the two men.

“I’m going back into cryo.” Bucky clarifies for you.

“Oh.” Is all you can say and your eyes widen for a second before you force yourself to put on a more neutral face.

“It’s okay.” He smiles at you, but you feel like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, doll.”

You try your best to smile and not look too bummed out. “I bet you can, Sergeant.”

You hesitate for a moment before surprising him, the others and even yourself by giving him a hug. He hesitates too before delicately hugging you back and, after a moment, you pull away.

He smiles at you with a faint blush and you smile back, watching him walk to the door.

Steve passes you on his way to the door and kisses your forehead, whispering “He’ll be okay” before saying goodbye to the rest of the team, assuring you that he’ll be back soon. Then he also goes through the door and soon both the supersoldiers are gone.

You turn around with a sigh and see Sam, Natasha and Clint standing there, grinning at you, Wanda and Scott looking more compassionate than teasing.

You narrow your eyes at the first three and say sternly “Not. A. Word.” punctuating every word by pointing threateningly at each of them.

They raise their hands in mock surrender while snickering but thankfully don’t say anything and everyone just scatters around the safehouse.

You see the Quinjet depart from the window and try your best to look at the bright side: This isn’t forever, you’ll see him again.

Right?

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse

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oneofthetorturedpoets · 29 days

Text

505

based on 505 by the arctic monkeys.

(not proofread)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

you walk down a darkened street, only thing to light up the sidewalk you walked on, is one flickering street light. you look to your left, across the road.

how'd you end up here? out of all places, what lead to here? you knew what it was. it was your thoughts. too busy thinking too notice were your mind was taking you.

you turn to look both ways before running across the street. you look up at the opened sign before opening the door. the classic ding, ringing in your ear.

"you need a room?" the man at the desks asks as he sits up.

"uh yeah... for the week" you step closer to the counter.

"any specific floor?"

"yeah actually, do you have room 505 open?" he clicks around on his computer, you tap your foot, impatiently.

"we do, can I get your name and your payment?" you dig in your front pocket for your wallet.

"y/n y/ln" you toss your cash on the counter. he inputs your info into the computer before taking the cash.

"alright, you're all set, here's your room key and the wifi password. enjoy your stay."

you walk down the parking lot, like deja-vu, you look up to see '505' printed on the door. you insert the key, opening the door. the smell of the room bringing you back to your thoughts from earlier. you look towards the bed and could almost see Natasha laying there on her side. you blink and the image is gone. you should've known she was going to haunt you.

"here's the key, our room is 505. i'll grab the bags" Natasha says before jogging to the stolen car. you sigh before walking down the parking lot, reading each door as you pass. you find the room and open the door just as she's shutting the car door. you hold the door open for her as she slips in, dropping your bags to the floor.

"it's nice" you try, she nods shortly.

"yeah, hopefully we don't get bored of it." she walks over to the bathroom area, taking off her jacket at the same time. you follow, grabbing the jacket before she tosses it to the floor. she smiles shyly at you. you look down at her blood-stained white tank top. she goes to pull it off but flinches. you urgently step forward.

"let me, nat" you lead her arms through the holes and slowly pull it over her head, revealing the dirty gauze on her side. you reach for it, pulling it off as gently as you could. "it looks infected." you comment. you lead her into the small toilet area and push her to sit down on the lid. you grab the motel towel and get it damp before starting to clean her wound. you try to ignore her staring.

"you think they followed us?" you shake your head.

"no, I saw them crash."

"how long do we have to stay here?" nat questions as she paces back and forth, her phone close to her ear. "are you serious? what about food and the payment for the motel?" she sighs "alright, ill talk to you soon, bye" she throws her phone on the bed, she sits by it.

"how long are we staying?" you lean on her, she lightly rubs your head.

"5-7 months."

"as long as its with you" she smiles tiredly.

you lay facing Natasha as she sleeps, trying to memorize every detail of her face. its been two months into your hideout, you've fallen for her. you both had no other choice but to get to know each other, going from strictly co-workers to something that has to be more than friends, you're not sure.

Natasha begins to stir, knocking you out of your thoughts, she opens her eyes, smiling she meets your stare.

"goodmoring, detka." she mumbles, before stretching out her arms. she goes to get up but you pull her back down. she inches away, close enough to kiss. her eyes flash to your lips, back up to your eyes. she leans in, laying her lips on yours. you lean into her, putting as much passion you could into the kiss. she melts into, kissing back harder. she climbs on top of me, one hand on my check, they other on my waist. she lightly pulls my hair, then pulls away.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long” she laughs as she talks.

“so have i” she just stares at you for a while, running her hand along your check, laying kisses on your neck.

weeks after your first kiss, you were confused by the situation. you guys didn’t mention the kiss, it was like it never happened.

Natasha sits at the desk, typing on her computer. you watch as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, focusing on what she was writing.

"Natasha" you call out, she doesn't respond. "nat" she peaks over her shoulder. "can we talk?" she nods and closes her laptop. you watch her walk over to you, sitting next to you.

"what's wrong, baby?" you turn to face her.

"what are we?" her eyebrows pinch in confusion.

"what do you mean?" you shake your head.

"you know what I mean, nat... you kissed me and its like you forgot about it. I just want to know if it meant something to you." she grabs your hands, gently squeezing them.

"it did mean something, im sorry for not clarifying my feelings for you. I've been in love with you since the start of this mission, I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. If you would take me, I want to be yours." you can't help the smile that spreads on your face.

now five months into your mission, Natasha is getting antsy.

"I don't think I can be in this room any longer, I feel like I don't have any space away from you." Natasha said exasperatedly.

you knew what she was saying because you felt it too. every time you too disagreed, there was no where for you to cool down. you both felt trapped. "Natasha-"

she interrupts your sentence. "shut up. I can't stand to hear you talk. just- let me use you for tonight." she walks up to you, pulling you into an mind-breaking kiss.

that's how most of your nights ended. her using you for her own pleasure. not that you minded, necessarily.

"you two are good to leave, please make your way back to the compound as soon as possible." both you and Natasha sigh in relief.

after you two pack up the little things that you had, Natasha grabs both of your hands. "I promise to be better to you when we are out of here. I know I haven't been what you deserve but when we are able to have our own normal lives, things will get better."

you smiled gently at her. "I know, my love." you kiss her, trying to show that you forgive everything.

"I just need space for a few more days, baby. I swear it's nothing you did, it's just- the whole hotel and all of the time we spent together nonstop, I just want to have a few nights for myself to recuperate." Natasha said as she shut the door to her room.

you two went from spending every waking second together to only seeing each other passing in the hallway. it didn't feel like you two were a couple anymore. you couldn't even remember the last time you two had kissed. it felt like 5 months you two were dating, didn't mean anything to her.

you show up at her room door, you knock a few times. "Natasha, it's me. we need to talk." the door slowly swings open, revealing Natasha in a white robe, looking as beautiful as ever. her curled red hair laying just below her shoulders, her green eyes holding your world. this is going to hurt worse than you thought.

"hey, y/n. come in." she moved over, creating space for you to walk past her. when you did, her perfume took over your senses. "is everything okay?"

you shook your head. "no, nothing is okay. why do I feel like I'm losing you? I mean I get that the months we had in the hotel were rough, I felt it too, but why does it feel like you don't even want to try to have a normal relationship? it feels like we're back to were we started." Natasha grabs your hand.

"i'm so sorry I'm hurting you, y/n. I just- I don't think I can do the whole relationship thing. the time we shared together was amazing but I think I realized I can't do it. commitment scares me and I don't want to do anything to hurt you more." with every word she says, it feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest.

after the break up, the team took Natasha's side. you had obviously expected that, they were closer to her than they were to you. what you never expected was the way they treated you.

every time you entered the kitchen and they were there, you got at least one dirty look, almost as if you did something wrong. Tony took everything he has given you away, including your dresser, night stand and bed frame. Steve has gone ten times hard on you during your sparing sessions. Bruce has refused to fix the hole in your suit, causing many malfunctions during battle. Clint has outright cussed you out, yelling at you for 'hurting' Natasha. Thor was the only one who was nice enough to ignore you.

you weren't sure what hurt you the most, the fact that none of them ever asked what happened, they just assumed you hurt Natasha and deserved to be punished or the fact that Natasha never corrected them.

it's now been a year since Natasha broke it off with you and you're still haunted of her. as you sit in the same hotel room that changed your life. since the break up, you have since quit the avengers, you felt more like a prisoner than a friend to all of them. you have been on the run from them for a few months now, since they declared you a fugitive.

you're not sure why you're back here. you thought you had moved on from Natasha. the whole in your heart half way patched up. as you sit in the old chair that was sat in the corner of the room, you stare out the window, watching as the rain starts to pick up. you see a figure just outside, in the middle of the parking lot. you slowly stand up, peeking out of the blinds as you watch it walk forwards. as it inches closer, you recognize her curves, the same ones you spent every night studying. you open your door, the wind slightly catching you off guard. Natasha finally close enough for you to see her face.

"what are you doing here?" Natasha says, you scoff.

shaking your head. "I could ask you the same thing... how did you find me?"

she chuckled. "I didn't mean to. I think we are here for the same reason. I'm running from the law now too." hearing her voice hurt more than you thought it would. "do you mind if I stay with you? I don't have any more money for a room, I figured id just break into one and stay for a night... but if you don't mind, I think it would be easier?"

you contemplate for a minute, your gut is telling you not to let her in, but you do anyways, slowly moving over for her to come in. she walks in, sighing at the warmth. she takes her jacket off, about to throw it on the floor but you take it from her before she can. the deja-vu making your stomach turn. she smiles at you, innocently.

"you know... I've missed you. I really have. when I found out you left, I felt like I really lost you." you roll your eyes at her statement.

"you lost me a while ago, Natasha." her eyebrows raise at your hostile tone.

she looks down at her feet, almost nervously. "I know, and I regret that night everyday. I was stupid to let you go."

she steps closer to you, clearly holding herself back from reaching out to you. "Natasha" her name came out more pathetic than you wanted, as you hold back tears.

"detka, I am really sorry for the way that I was. I swear I took this time to reflect on how everything played out and I am embarrassed for how I treated you." you turn around, not wanting her to see you cry. you brought the sleeve of your long sleeved shirt, up to your eyes, trying to stop your tears from falling. Natasha turned you back around, gently grabbing your hands, holding them. "you deserve so much better than how I was... I know I never said it before but I love you. with every inch of me, I love you. you have set my world on fire and I stomped it out because I was scared of how much I loved you. please, let me make it up to you." all of your tears seemed to fall at once as you practically fell into Natashas chest, looking for the comfort you never had.

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ginnsbaker · 8 months

Text

Bulletproof (2/?)

Summary: A continuation of this (You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell). Now that Wanda has offered to share her room, things get... a bit complicated.

Chapter word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Wanda catches you in a very compromising position, Unresolved Sexual Tension

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Series Masterlist

Sharing a room with Wanda Maximoff is not as trivial as it sounds.

The first night, her bed seems almost too big, especially for two people who don't know each other very well. Throughout the night, you’re acutely conscious of every movement, ensuring that you remain on your designated side, even if it means dangling one leg off the bed for balance.

On the second night, after realizing she'd unknowingly snuggled up to you during her sleep, she suggests putting a pillow in the middle–kind of like a boundary, you guess. The two of you share a light-hearted chuckle over the idea, yet a rosy hue stubbornly lingers on both your faces until one of you eventually heads out for breakfast.

Nights turn into mornings and that big bed starts feeling, well, not so big anymore. You both take to this pillow-in-the-middle setup, treating it like some sort of teddy bear you both have a claim to. It becomes an unspoken agreement, almost like a cozy buffer that you both secretly enjoy. Both of you would hold onto it, sometimes playfully tugging it toward your side.

On the seventh day, shortly after midnight, you feel a subtle shift as Wanda’s fingers, which were draped over the pillow, find their way to your waist. It's just a slight touch, but it sends your senses into overdrive. And as the fog of drowsiness lifts, you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you two.

The covers, which up until now felt just right, suddenly start to feel oppressively warm. Turning your head slightly, you can make out the silhouette of her face, bathed in the soft light filtering through the curtains. You're struck by the details—the curve of her cheek, the demure slope of her nose, her slightly parted lips. She's mesmerizing. You feel an undeniable urge to reach out and touch, to feel the softness of her skin, but you resist.

You think about shifting her hand back onto the pillow, but then, there's this part of you, perhaps the bolder side, that wants it to stay there. So, you let it stay, taking shallow breaths, hoping your racing heart doesn't wake her up.

You pull the covers tighter around you, trying to shake the thoughts, but it's no use.

All you can think about is the girl sleeping soundly beside you, and the night stretches on endlessly ahead.

You were supposed to get your own room, but honestly? It's taking a while, and you're not even sure you want it anymore.

There's something about Wanda's nighttime habits that you've come to love: the way she snores just a bit, the way some of her things would rattle around her when she’s having an intense dream, the scent of her shampoo when she washes her hair before bed, the subtle movements she makes when you know she has a hard time falling asleep.

And there's that special moment each morning: You always seem to stir just moments before her. Like clockwork, her eyes flutter open, and in that half-awake daze, she’d murmur a “Good morning.”

Yet, as this unexpected cohabitation with Wanda unfolds, a nagging thought keeps pricking at the back of your mind:

This delightful domestic bubble has an expiration date.

You know you shouldn't get too attached. But you're probably way past that now.

Which is why, to seemingly guard yourself, you pester Steve at dinner.

“So, Steve, any word on my room?” you casually drop the question one evening, trying to keep the tone light. Across the table, Wanda's attention diverts from her lasagna to the conversation at hand, silently watching the exchange.

Steve, looking a tad weary, responds, “Honestly? I'm not sure. And you've brought this up, what, three times today?”

“Maybe if Tony actually replied to my messages, we wouldn't be having this chat every mealtime,” you argue, mindlessly twirling your fork around your pasta.

Before Steve can retort, Wanda intervenes. “If you're worried about overstaying in my space, you haven't. It's been...nice, having you there.”

Your cheeks flame up, a quick surge of heat that’s impossible to ignore. The sudden candidness in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, you're tongue-tied, searching for a response. She, too, seems taken aback by her own candor, her eyes widening a fraction.

“I-I mean, I don't mind…” she says, trying to recover from her prior lapse. She then diverts her attention, a little flustered, burying herself in her plate.

“Maybe we can set up a rota? You know, split the week between Natasha and Wanda's rooms?” Steve suggests.

From across the table, Natasha halts, shawarma in hand, and deadpans, “Since when was my room up for discussion?”

Your focus, however, remains fixed on Wanda. “It's not about that, Wanda,” you reply earnestly. “It’s just... we all need our space, right?”

Something shifts in Wanda's eyes, a flicker of disappointment perhaps, but before you can fully process it, she masks it with indifference. “I'm sorry,” she murmurs, starting to collect her plate with only a few bites missing from her lasagna. “I thought you were in a rush because of... well, me.”

You stare at her, momentarily stunned, with a growing urge to apologize. The dinner table suddenly feels miles long.

Clearing your throat, you muster, “Wanda, it's not like that.”

She pauses, looking back at you, waiting.

“I just thought it might be easier for both of us,” you say, cringing as the words don't quite capture your intended sentiment.

Her face tightens further, her demeanor chilling by several degrees. “You're right,” she replies, voice sharp and edged. “It might be easier for you.”

Without another word, she stands up and leaves.

In the aftermath of Wanda's exit, an oppressive silence descends, punctuated only by the occasional scrape of cutlery on porcelain. Vision, always a touch out of step with human nuances, arches an eyebrow at Bucky. “Is there a particular reason the air's grown so dense?”

Before Bucky can answer, Natasha leans back, shooting you a pointed look.

“By the way,” she drawls, pausing for emphasis. “My room has an exclusive guest list. Only one name on it–mine,” she says and then nonchalantly bites at her meat wrap, clearly having said her piece.

The room's temperature seems to further drop another few degrees following Natasha's remark. Steve shoots you a sympathetic glance while Bucky suppresses a smirk, amused at the drama unfolding.

Trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back, Sam quips, “Well, at this rate, I might start charging for bunking in my room. Any takers?”

You can't help but force a chuckle, silently thanking him for the attempt to lighten the mood. However, Wanda's departure and Natasha’s dry humor leave you pondering whether sharing a room might have been the better option after all.

For two nights straight, you avoid the Avenger's compound.

Instead, you dip into your personal savings from past missions, booking yourself into a plush hotel downtown. The suite boasts modern amenities and a bed that critics might describe as 'a cloud'.

Yet, for all its luxury, it feels...empty.

The Egyptian cotton sheets, while soft to the touch, are cold. The lavish bathroom, with its marble counters, feels too sterile. The room, while spacious, feels too silent. Deafeningly so.

Gone are the soft snores, the slight movement of a shared bed, and the comforting scent of Wanda's evening shampoo. All replaced by a void that no amount of luxury can fill. Your heart aches, not for the lack of comfort, but for the lack of connection.

(The lack of a… friend. Maybe after nights of sleeping side by side, it’s fair to think of her as such.)

And as another sleepless night passes in the hotel, you find yourself wishing for the simplicity of that pillow barrier, the steady rhythm of Wanda's breathing, and the tender sound of her voice whispering, “Good morning.”

It's high time to step out of this lavish prison and head back to the compound.

More importantly, it's time to apologize to Wanda, something you should've done in the first place.

Pushing open the door to Wanda's room, you anticipate her familiar, mischievous smirk. Instead, a deafening silence surrounds you. The only telltale sign of her absence is the disarray of her belongings, possibly from prepping for an unexpected mission.

You have been looking forward to seeing her all day, unsure if she'd even welcome you back. Just as you consider heading elsewhere to find her, Vision suddenly steps out from a room further down the corridor.

“Wanda’s not here,” you state rather than ask.

“She's still in the debriefing room. The mission ran long, and discussions have been... extensive,” Vision offers, his head tilt subtle but noticeable, making you very much aware of his ability to read more than just your face.

You run a hand through your hair, weary. “Any idea how much longer?”

He seems to ponder, “At the rate they’re going? An hour, maybe more.”

The day's exhaustion settles on you, making your skin feel sticky and tired. You reason that perhaps Wanda might be more inclined to speak with you if you're freshened up and smelling good. With this thought, you let out a soft sigh, nodding in gratitude to Vision.

Slipping back into Wanda’s room and absentmindedly neglecting to lock the door, you dive into the shower without waiting for the water to warm up, welcoming its brisk, invigorating sting against your tired skin. It’s surprisingly intimate to be using Wanda's products again after days without them, and you try not to think about how it all feels a bit... like home.

Several minutes later, wrapped in a towel with droplets still clinging to your skin, you pad over to your side of the bed. The damp cold from your hair seeping through the towel sends a chill down your spine, but the softness of Wanda's sheets beckon. You can't resist the temptation any longer and, with a soft thud, you flop down.

The moment you sink into the mattress, Wanda's familiar scent envelops you, a comforting blend of jasmine and something uniquely her. Closing your eyes, you realize just how much you've missed her–not just the shared bed or the late-night whispers, but the girl herself.

The heart of it all.

Every thought of Wanda makes your heartbeat a tad bit faster. Your skin, slightly damp from the shower, feels hypersensitive against the silky sheets that smell so much like her. Every thread seems to graze your skin, reminding you of the presence you're currently missing.

Your thoughts start to shift, moving past innocent interactions you’ve had with Wanda so far. You’re now wondering if Wanda ever touched herself in this very same bed. If her fingers have lazily brushed against her core to thoughts of you, the way you’re doing now to thoughts of her. You wonder if she likes to tease herself, if she likes to pay attention to her clit or prefers to stuff herself with her own fingers.

You pull a pillow close, not just as a makeshift barrier, but as an anchor to steady the rush of arousal coursing through your body. But instead of calming you down, it sends you over the edge and deeper into your unchecked desires. The pillow is no longer just a fluffy companion; it becomes a stand-in for her–for Wanda.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not on the bed that belongs to the woman you’re imagining as you throw a leg over the unsuspecting pillow. In the midst of your internal conflict, your thighs still part to welcome the plush material as you’re about to lose all sense of control.

But the universe seems to have its own way of snapping you out of questionable choices.

Just as you're about to succumb to the overwhelming sensations, the door slams open. With a startled yelp, you topple off the bed, the towel that's your only semblance of decency barely holding on. The pillow, now a poor victim to your previous intentions, gets clutched to your chest in a frantic attempt to salvage some dignity.

There, framed in the doorway, is Wanda. Her eyes wide, an unreadable expression on her face. You've never wished for the ground to swallow you up more than you do in this mortifying moment. Your face heats up, unsure if you could ever look Wanda in the eyes again after this.

And just when you think it couldn’t get any worse, she speaks.

“Um... did I interrupt something?” Wanda asks, her voice teetering between amusement and genuine curiosity. She's trying, and failing, to hide a smirk.

You, on the other hand, are a mess of jumbled words and embarrassment. “I- I was just... It's not what it looks like,” you say, but the evidence around you paints a pretty distinct picture.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “Really? Because from here, it looks pretty... interesting.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow for a moment, the very one that betrayed you. “Can we just forget this ever happened?”

She chuckles, her earlier tension from the debriefing room (and the tension with you from days earlier) seeming to melt away in the face of your predicament. “Oh, I'm not sure I can. It's not every day I find someone... bonding with my pillow in such a way.”

Caught in a compromising situation with Wanda taking it all in, you cover your face with your hands. “I, um, Wanda, I apologize," you manage to stammer out, each word dripping with mortification.

She cocks her head, studying you. “It's... alright,” she murmurs, her gaze penetrating and elusive. In any other circumstance, you might've caught the faint trail her eyes make over your partially exposed form, but right now, anxiety shrouds your every thought.

You bite your lip, the action causing Wanda’s breath to hitch.

“Can I... could you give me a moment? Just to... get dressed?” you ask.

Wanda nods, her lips curving into a small, understanding smile. “Of course,” She takes a step back, her fingers brushing against the door frame. “Just... maybe lock the door next time?”

You chuckle weakly, nodding. “Definitely noted.”

Once alone in the room again, a ragged exhale escapes your lips. You immediately get to your feet, scrambling for your suitcase to find something–anything–that will save you from the most embarrassing moment of your life.

Outside the room, Wanda leans against the hallway wall, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the cool surface. The image of what she had walked into replays in her mind, sending tingles down her spine.

She feels the urge to peer into your head, see who’s starring in your wildest fantasies.

If she wants, she can find out.

But there's a line she knows she shouldn't cross, especially with teammates. Swallowing hard, Wanda decides to afford you the space and privacy to compose yourself.

Her reverie is broken by your voice, somewhat muted by the wall between you both. “I'm decent now,” you say, a touch of sheepishness clear in your tone.

For a moment, Wanda hesitates, her fingers hovering inches from the door handle. Taking a fortifying breath, she turns the knob and steps into the room.

“I'm so sorry,” you say as soon the door shuts with a soft click behind Wanda, eyes cast downward. The oversized Pikachu shirt you're wearing is probably the last thing she expected to see on you. Under different circumstances, she might have teased you about it.

Wanda shakes her head and smirks, crossing her arms in front of her. “Apologies for the pillow?”

“For what happened three days ago, during dinner. I never meant to offend you,” you say, still looking down.

Her eyes narrow, adopting a casual demeanor. “Offend me? I'm not sure what you're talking about.”

Risking a glance up, your eyes meet Wanda's, searching for a hint of the resentment or anger you're expecting. Instead, you find a relaxed, almost indifferent look in her eyes. No hint of upset, no sign of offense taken. Her nonchalance takes you aback.

“You know,” she muses, her tone light, “You were so caught up in your thoughts that you stayed away from this room for days.”

“Did I read the situation wrong?” you wonder aloud feeling a little foolish now that it seems you were reading into things too much.

Wanda shrugs her shoulders, her playful smirk returning. “Perhaps you're overthinking things a bit. Honestly, if I was truly offended, I would've said something. As for wanting space,” she continues, her gaze drifting over to the tousled sheets, “I didn't think it was a big deal.”

Swallowing your surprise, a tiny smile forms on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you've been looking at the entire situation wrong. Maybe the pillow barrier, the shared space, and the soft morning greeting weren't as loaded with meaning as you thought.

Maybe, with Wanda, things were just simpler.

And yet, somehow, you’re disappointed by that possibility.

It means she doesn’t care if you get your room sooner or later.

It means she wouldn’t miss you as much as you would when you permanently get to sleep in your own bed.

“So… we’re good?” you ask tentatively.

Wanda simply nods. An awkward silence quickly follows and your attention is inadvertently drawn to the pillow strewn aside, its memory fresh and horrifying.

“Uh, nothing happened, but,” you say, coughing into your fist nervously. “I’ll make sure to wash that pillow.”

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delicatebarness · 3 months

Text

bring him home | chapter one

Summary: It’s been three weeks since she lost almost everything. Her brothers, her best friend, her lover, her father.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Avengers: Endgame + Captain America: Civil War. Violence. Grief. A Single Mention of Nudity.

Word Count: 1334

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I’m really enjoying writing this, I haven’t wrote this much so quick in years.

Tags: @crazyforbarnes | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

Three Weeks.

“Dad?!” You ran towards the ship that landed in your back garden, your dad stood there with Pepper in his fragile arms. He lifted his head, a sigh of relief as he watched you getting closer. His little girl is safe. “Where’s Pete?” His expression changed within an instant, he scanned every inch of your face for a sign. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your face is slimmer than when he last saw you. Thankfully, not as slim as he had gotten. He watched your eyes flickering between the ship, himself and Nebula. He knew you’d already lost one brother, now, he’s witnessing your realisation of losing the other.

“I’m sorry, kid.” He whimpered as your eyes began to tear up as you looked into his own. Within a second, Steve had you nestled into his chest. Not another one, you didn’t think your mind or body could handle any more grief. As soon as your face hit Steves's chest and your body collapsed in his arms, for what felt like the millionth time in three weeks, you let out an uncontrollable scream. Your knees gave way, Steve did not let you fall. Instead, he lifted you and carried you back to your room in the compound.

Once in your room, Steve lay you down on your bed. He didn’t want to leave you, he had watched you grow up since you were 16, from a smart teenager with more compassion than himself at times. To, a resourceful, understanding young woman. He wanted to protect you more now than ever. Shield you away so nothing more could hurt you. Your dad felt the same, it was painful for him to watch Steve carry you to your room instead of him. His weak frame makes it difficult to keep himself up, never mind you.

Your room was like any other basic grey bedroom at the compound. However, you had Vision help you drape fairy lights and ivy all over the walls. Polaroids attached to the strings with clothing pegs, and images of you with various team members looking down at you. Over the last three weeks, if you weren’t crying, you were looking over all these photos. Remembering each loved one as they were and hoping you’ll see them again.

It broke your heart for years that you were never able to add your joyful times with Bucky to your walls. Those were kept in a locked box inside your wardrobe. Polaroids of cuddles in a hut, Bucky throwing around hay with only one arm, even a few x-rated ones which you hoped to Odin no one else ever saw. They were all of Bucky, the ones of yourself were kept with him in Wakanda. And, then there were your letters. There have been a few nights since they all vanished that you’ve fallen asleep surrounded by his handwriting.

Steve stayed with you until your sobs had stopped and you cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t hear him leave, your dreams clouded with memories. Memories of Bucky. Even in your sleep, you could not hide your love and grief for him.

Meet Cute.

You sat in the office watching over the security cameras with Steve, not believing they were treating another human this way. He was locked within a box, strapped down. All he had was a table and a chair in front of it. And, it wasn’t even for him to use. Some interrogator was sat there, asking him questions about his home. You were listening to everything.

You rose to your feet when the power went out, following Steve and Sam to find Bucky. Ignoring your dad's yelling. You started to believe Steve’s theory regarding someone framing his friend. Yes, they say ‘Why did he run if he's innocent?’ But, wouldn’t anyone run if they had someone in a blue soldier uniform with an indestructible shield, someone in a bulletproof catsuit and a guy flying around with mechanical wings chasing them? You knew you would. And, you were someone who had an outfit fitting to that scenario.

His head turns, Bucky or The Winter Soldier you weren’t sure who made direct eye contact with you. Your breath hitched as he dropped the guard currently in a chokehold and made his way towards you. You didn’t move. A hand came up to your throat, pinning you against the wall, tightening by the second. You noticed he hadn’t used his left arm, the silver metal never once touched your skin.

“James? Sorry, I-I know you like to be called B-Bucky but I don’t feel like I know y-you well enough.” You shuttered as his grip grew tighter. “I’m Y/N,” Placing your bare hand onto his wrist against his bare skin, you felt the grip slackening. “I won’t hurt you.” His grip was almost light enough for you to find your feet on the ground again, until…

“Put her down.” Both of your heads turned to where the voice came from, your dad. Palm raised, repulsor ready. You mouthed “no” over and over to him, feeling the grip tighten the longer he stood there. Your dad hits Bucky with a stun-blast which in turn causes him to drop you to the floor. Covering your ears, you sat down with your legs pulled up covering your face. You felt a weight on top of you as another blast went off. Looking up, he was staring down at you as he covered you from your dad’s blasts. Becoming your human shield.

The blasting stopped, Bucky stood up and pounded towards your dad, throwing punches. Your dad blocked almost most of them. He gave as much as he got to.

“Get out of here now!” Your dad yelled at you. You didn’t have your suit, you were no match to The Winter Soldier, it was the safest option. You stood up, legs shaking, as you watched them fight. “Now! Y/N! Go!” He continued to yell as Bucky’s eyes once again found yours. You wanted to stay, something telling you he needed someone to stay.

But, you ran.

Cheeseburgers.

When you woke up, you pulled out your burner phone. You only had three numbers saved, Vision (Baby Brother), Wanda Maximoff (BFF), and James Buchanan Barnes (Old Man). Instinctually calling the number under the name “Old Man” you hoped the ringing would stop and you’d hear his voice. “Hey, Doll.” Nothing. You started to sob as the ringing continued.

You didn’t hear him opening your door and appearing through the gap, he watched you sobbing with the phone pressed against your cheek.

“Hey Kid,” he choked after a beat, snapping out of your trance and hanging the phone up. “Who are you calling?” You shake your head in response, you can’t break the Bucky news to him just yet.

“No one you need to be concerned about, Dad,” giving him a weak smile, he wouldn’t have been concerned, he would have been angry. His little girl, his legacy, is in love with the man who killed his parents and broke his team up. Where did he go so wrong? You got up and helped him further into your room. “How are you feeling?” You lay him on your bed, getting him comfy with all your pillows and throws.

“Oh, never been better,” he joked as he tried to lift himself. “You know, had a planet thrown at me then got stranded in space for three weeks.” You helped him position himself better before getting into your bed and cuddling up to your dad. You didn’t realise until right now just how much you missed him and his humour.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you squeezed his hand while giving him another weak smile. “It’s been far too quiet around here.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smiled at you, squeezing your hand back, and then sighed. “We should order cheeseburgers.” You let yourself have a small laugh, for the first time in three weeks.

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urdepressedslut · 1 year

Text

Stray

♡ Pairing: The Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader/Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Just hours after the events in DC, you find The Winter Soldier unconscious, leaning against a gravestone in a cemetery near your home. Being sheltered you don't recognize who he is, and you care for him.

♡ Warnings: dark themes? light angst, fluff, vomiting

A/N: If you’re confused at the start, good. I tried to make the buildup very mysterious on who you are 😂

Part 2

His mind raced with questions that he knew would stay unanswered. The image of the blonde soldier defenseless, lying just out of the river.

I'm with you til the end of the line

Those words had ignited something in him, the foreign feeling of a fractured memory trying to come to life. He wasn't sure who he was anymore, he wasn't sure where he was, or where he was going. But his legs had a mind of their own, leading him far away from the smoke clouds.

10 hours later Location: Riverside, WA

You watched the dirt disappear from your hands, streaks of brown merging with the river. Taking a deep breath, you felt at peace, the ambience of the wind and water being the only noise you could hear for miles.

Your mind was finally clear, the static the lurked in your head gone. You were surprisingly doing better than you thought, considering what had happened. Maybe it was just the calm before the storm.

Long story short, no one would ever control you again, you were finally your own person.

Taking one last look at the river, you hoped that the calm that found you here would follow you back to the house. The house used to be a place you called home, but now the air was poisoned. Although you didn’t have a choice, it was the only place you had to live. Plus people would be looking for you now and you had to stay hidden.

The walk back to the house gave you time to think, gave you a moment to yourself before you reentered the poisoned air.

As you were passing through the cemetery as a shortcut, you noticed the angel gravestone had a real man leaning up against it. His form was unmoving, and could easily pass as a statue from how still he was.

Your body tensed up slightly, considering that this cemetery was private, nobody ever came out here.

He seemed to be a very large man, but from the way he was trying to make himself look smaller broke your heart.

You had always heard that “Two broken people will either fit together perfectly, or destroy each other beyond repair.” Whatever that means anyway.

Not that you were assuming he was a broken man but a normal person wouldn’t be sleeping against a grave in a cemetery… especially this cemetery.

You felt like you haven’t been living your life the way you want to live it. You were in control now and you wanted to do something good— be good.

Your bare feet tip toed through the overgrown grass, walking slow enough, sizing him up. He was dressed in military tatical pants with a black tactical vest covering his upper half.

He looked like a soldier, and you didn't understand how someone like him would be wandering around a cemetery in the middle of nowhere.

Finally getting close enough, you kneeled down into the grass, your dirtied dress flowing around you. The strangers shoulder length hair was covering the full view of his face. With careful fingers, you reached out, pushing the curtain of hair off his cheeks.

You were speechless as you revealed the strangers face, at a loss for words at his beauty. His skin was neutral, sweat mixed with water layering his face with a glow. His eyes were peacefully shut, while a crease stayed in between his brows. His left eye was ringed with an irritated bruise, one that seemed too fresh for it to be an old wound. His face had been shaved recently, but stubble could be spotted up close. His dully defined cupids bow guided you to his plump lips, beholding a pinkish color.

You had never witnessed such raw vision this close before, and you couldn’t help yourself from thinking that he was a fallen angel.

You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out, smoothing his stubbled cheek with your knuckles. It had felt like forever since you’d last touched a man, let alone a man this handsome.

His lip twitched at your feathered touch, making you rip your hand back to your chest in fear you'd woken him. The man groaned painfully in his slumber, and it was then you noticed his right arm cradled awkwardly to his chest.

This man was clearly hurting, and from the looks of it, he was running from something. It wasn't your job to care for him, but you knew you couldn't just leave him here. Without knowing his true intentions yet, you started your trek back to the house to gather some supplies for the stranger.

__________________________

Bucky woke with a groan, the discomfort in his shoulder still present. Without setting his arm back in place, he wouldn’t be able to heal himself. He’d forgotten how he ended up here, only remembering his chaotic mind trying to piece everything together, resulting in him collapsing. His head felt less cloudy, his mind able to create clear thoughts without the looming shadow of HYDRA.

HYDRA. Surely they were looking for him now, and as much as he hated to admit it. They still had power over him, even out of their clutches. His stomach knotted up, sweat beads forming on his exposed skin, the mere thought of being found by HYDRA enough for him to empty the contents of his stomach on the grass next to him. Although it wasn’t much, just remains of his last nutrient packet.

After moments of dry heaving, his body relaxed back onto the stone. It was then he noticed the supplies placed in front of him.

He found, two water bottles, a medium sized bag of fruit and vegetables, a pile of clothes, and sitting on top of the clothes lastly was a flower.

The supplies had sparked something inside of him, and he wasn’t sure if it was confusion on where they came from, or if it was guilt that he didn’t deserve such kindness.

Glancing around the vacant cemetery, he saw no one in sight. He sensed nothing, heard no heartbeat, or breathing. The water and food were too tempting to ignore, despite the possibility of it being poisoned lingering in the back of his mind, he gulped the water down. Despite his stomach growling, he nibbled on the food, knowing the effects of eating too fast, especially after living off of nutrient packets.

Suddenly, a paper ball landed near his legs. Startling him, he whipped he head up, scanning the area for the being. After finding no one again, he picked up the ball, uncurling it to reveal a scribbled message.

Walk 206 steps to your right for shelter

Storm coming tonight

Furrowing his brows, he was more confused than ever. After all the blood stained in his hands, the universe still thought he was worthy enough for a guardian angel? Surely this was all a sick joke, and the person behind these words were HYDRA.

Amongst all his chaotic thoughts, the one had stuck out, ringing loud and clear for him to hear.

What more do I have to lose?

__________________________

You were sitting on the front porch, training your eyes on the field where the earth curved. It was silly to trust a stranger, you knew that. It was even sillier to be waiting for said stranger to appear. Maybe it was because you were lonely, maybe it was pure curiosity.

You suddenly spotted the faint figure of someone far away walking in this direction. Doubting if you had made the right decision leading him here, you wrung your hands together nervously.

The stranger had seemed to spot you, with the way he was avoiding your stare. His hands were full with your supplies you had gifted him, even his awkwardly bent arm was cradling the bag of food. He hadn’t bothered to change into the new clothes, but you didn’t mind.

It felt like forever by the time he stopped plenty of feet away, obviously keeping distance between you both. You watched him sneak a glance at you, analyzing your expression with the way his brows furrowed in concentration.

Deciding to break the thick silence, you cleared your throat. As well as holding your palms out for him to see, to show you meant no harm.

“Uh… I’m not going to hurt you or anything… You probably figured that I mean— The water, food… Uh,” You rambled, forgetting everything you had planned to say, “I found you in the cemetery and I was just gonna leave you the supplies and that’s it. But then I heard about a storm on the radio back home and… Well, I felt bad thinking about leaving you there.”

The man watched you intently during your whole speech. Half listening, half taking in your features. He hesitated taking off in the middle of your rambling, but when you mentioned you had felt bad for him, and were thinking about him. It ignited a foreign feeling within him, one that made him feel important, something he’s lacked for god knows how long.

He was complete stranger to you, and here you were offering him supplies, thinking about his wellbeing and now you were offering your home to him? You really were an angel.

“You can stay if you want. You can stay out here on the porch, or you could come inside,” You offered, feeling embarrassed by your desperation for human interaction, “It’s just me here.”

He thought about your offers, knowing he could easily overpower you if the situation called for it. He was enchanced and could run faster than you, if he had to. He felt secure that if the worst came, he could handle it.

“Why?”

His voice startled you, you weren’t expecting him to respond considering his mysterious silent vibe he was giving off. His question confused you though.

“Why what?”

“Why let me stay?” He asked in almost a whisper, holding you gaze confidently. Although his eyes were haunted, holding a look of someone that had seen too much.

Your heart ached at what this man had possibly been through. His tone was sad, and it sounded like he almost didn’t believe he should be allowed to stay.

“Uh… I don’t know,” You told him softly, and he didn’t seemed pleased with your answer, lowering his eyes to the ground again. “Like I said, it’s just me here.”

You hinted, hoping he’d understand that you were desperate enough for human interaction that you were willing to invite a stranger into your home.

You glanced up to him, finding an empathetic expression upon his face.

“Okay, just for tonight.” He agreed, and you smiled.

A/N: part 2?? 🤔 let me know what you think

#reader insert #fluff #light angst #oneshot #imagine #marvel imagines #buckybarnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #captain america civil war #captain america the winter soldier #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst

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miley1442111 · 22 days

Text

speech time- s.rogers

a/n: intended for fem or male reader, so imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: your boyfriend cares less about his image than you thought.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: kissing

Being able to say you were dating Captain America, and have it be true was quite the experience. One you never thought you’d come to terms with, yet here you were at a gala, in front of the Captain America, his lips on yours in a dressing room.

“You’ll be called back out soon,” you whimpered, his lips finally pulling away.

“So what?” he shrugged, pulling your lips against his again. He was insatiable, you assumed the super-soldier serum had something to do with his stamina but you couldn’t be sure. It could just be Steve.

“Steve!” you pushed him back, getting his attention. “I do not want the entire US government on my ass because you’re late for your speech.”

“They won’t care,” he smirked, his ‘Brooklyn charm’ (Tony had decided on the name) on full show. His hands caressed your waist, leaving goosebumps behind.

“Yes they will.”

“I don’t care,” he tried to kiss you again, but you pushed him back.

“Steve,” You said sternly. “Later.”

“Now,” he demanded, his hands bruising your waist with how hard he was holding you. He pushed his lips back onto yours, a knowing smirk on his face. You obliged him and kissed back, your arms circling his neck. He lifted you onto the dressing rooms’ counter, pushing off the makeup you’d used earlier. He chuckled into your mouth and kissed you harder, his hands sneaking lower. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasped. “My beautiful-”

There was a knock at the door and you scrambled off the counter, getting as far away from him as possible.

“Yeah?” Steve answered the knock, clearly pissed off.

“5 minutes to speech time, lovebirds,” Sam’s voice made Steve scoff.

“Thanks,” he called back, sarcasm dripping from his words. You heard Sam’s footsteps retract.

“That was close,” he smirked, walking back over to you, his hands finding grip on your waist.

“That is why we can’t do this anymore,” you scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “I love you but-”

What. Did. You. Just. Say?

Fuck. You refused to meet his eyes, stammering out an apology when he kissed you. He kissed you hard. “I love you too,” he whispered against your lips. “A lot.”

You pulled back, your heart warming at his comment. “Good.”

“Good?” he chuckled. “You’re insane-”

You shut him up by wiping your lipstick off his lips, you pressed one last, soft kiss to his lips and pulled back, smiling. “Speech time Captain America.”

He rolled his eyes, but obliged you, leading you out of the dressing room and into the gala hall. He left you in the crowd with the other avengers, his speech was patriotic and inspiring, but your favourite part was the end, when he finished up and walked off the stage, finding you in the crowd and kissing you again.

You loved each other. You loved him.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #winter soldier #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #captain america civil war #mcu

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rogersideup · 1 year

Text

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter one:

Welcome to Greenwood

Series Masterlist

Next Part: Inhale, Exhale.

Word Count: 4,893

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

The sound of the bell rattling on the front door pulled your mind away from the cake on the rotating stand in front of you and the piping bag in your hand. Coincidentally, you had just sent your cashier to break so you moved your work station to the decorating desk visible to the doorframe into the kitchen of your bakery, allowing you to see the customers as they walked in.

"Hey there, honey! I'll be right with ya'." You greeted the customer as you piped out the final details on the custom ordered cake you had spent the last half an hour perfecting.

"No worries, take your time." A polite voice responded.

Your head immediately turned at the sound of the deep and slightly raspy voice you had never heard before. In a scanty little town like Greenwood, you swore just about every friendly face within thirty miles of your bakery had stopped by for a treat at least once. You could recognize just about anyone with a blindfold on and nothing but the sound of a friendly greeting, but that charming bass was one you'd be sure to recognize if you've heard it before.

It belonged to a face you'd also be sure to recognize. An over six-foot stunner with blue eyes, a nicely groomed beard, and what looked like dirty blonde hair hidden behind a baseball cap.

You grinned before looking back at your cake, trying to process the new specimen in the lobby. It only took a few seconds before placing the piping bag down and ripping off your gloves, curiously walking out to behind the counter to help him out.

"Sorry about that, what can I get'cha?" Since you closed most of the distance, nothing but the bake case between you two, you got to notice more detail.

There was some serious muscle happening underneath the black long sleeved shirt he was wearing. Also, he was really good at picking out jeans that fit him perfectly in all the right places. Oh, and there was just a dash of green in the blue of his eyes.

"Just a chocolate chip cookie please." He asked timidly. You could tell he felt a little out of place, rocking back and forth on his heels in attempts to sooth his unsettled energy.

"Anything else?" You grinned.

"No thank you." He gently shook his head and walked over to the register as you put his cookie in a pastry bag.

"Okay but I'm giving you two cookies, because I think anyone who only gets one cookie is lying to themselves." You called out with a friendly smile, earning a chuckle from the man.

It allowed you to get a good look at his smile. He had pretty pink lips and perfect pearly whites.

Now, it was time for the investigative process you perfected to the tee. It usually started with an extra cookie and a big sparkling smile, followed by some friendly questions, and ending with a 'hope to see you again sometime soon'. You didn't mean to be invasive, really, you just needed to have all the answers when your neighbor, Georgia, asks for more information once you inevitably ask her if she knows anything about the new stunner in town.

"Well thank you, I appreciate that." He grinned, pulling the wallet out of his jeans.

"I don't think I've seen you around before, are you driving through?" You asked.

Steve shifted once more as he thought about how to answer this question. Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. His face had been plastered on every the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. If he was still in the 40's he was sure his face would take the place of the missing persons on the sides of milk cartons.

It had been just a few long months shy of a year , just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, it had calmed down enough for him to feel comfortable trying to settle down for as long as he safely could.

He finally found someone to rent him a house in a town quaint enough for his liking that was willing to accept under the table cash payments in rent, no proof of income, and didn't ask too many questions.

"I'm actually moving to Greenwood in the next couple days, I just picked up the keys to my new place. Saw the bakery sign and decided to stop by, figured a new start is grounds for a little celebrating." Steve explained, convincing enough.

All he could do was cross his fingers in hopes you didn't care about politics or the news enough to recognize his face.

"Really? What made you want to move here?"

He shrugged, and his lips stretched into a straight line. "Just wanted to go somewhere quiet and relaxing I guess. You know, the simple life."

"Well, most people here spend their days chasing something a bit more exciting and busy. I think you're in for exactly what you hoped for" You reassured him. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't catch your name?"

The pet name that seemed to run off your tongue without a second thought felt warm and welcoming to him. In the big city, a sentiment like that was a title that was typically earned, but here it was given with almost an immediate understanding that everyone around was inherently good and trustworthy. He almost didn't want to tell you his name so he could keep hearing the word slip passed your lips.

"Oh, sorry!" He apologized. "I'm Steven."

Steven? Really? Already off to a bad start. He told himself when he settled down for a bit he'd be distant to the people around him. Never get too close, never tell the truth, go by an alias. But for some reason, he just couldn't get himself to lie to you. You just seemed too sweet for that.

As he took another look around his new surroundings, he chalked it up to be the homey atmosphere of the bakery. The walls were covered in tasteful art installations, celebrating the very pastries that were being perfectly displayed in the illuminated case. Although the color schemes of earth tones, contrasting yet complementary wood colors and grains, and mixed metals seemed like it wouldn't work for a bakery, it worked for this bakery. It was warm and inviting; the polished concrete floors reminded him of the home he once knew. The wall-full of jarred sprinkles in all sorts of different blends and colors to match with the bakery and playfully pull the interests of customers eyes made him feel a sense of child like wonder again.

The booths were built into cozy corners, there were lounge areas with low to the floor tables with alternate seating, a tasteful shelf full of board games for families and friends alike to play together while enjoying a coffee and a treat.

It smelled like browning butter and vanilla beans. There were throw pillows on the booths and lounges. On the main wall behind the bake case and above the beautiful espresso machines read the name of the shop, 'Nice to be kneaded' in a warm golden neon glow.

Steven it is.

"Well, Steven," You handed him the bag of cookies, he hesitated to take them from you. "Everyone who decides to make a home out of Greenwood deserves a warm welcome. Here's to a quiet and relaxing new start."

"Thanks I appreciate it" He smiled. "How much for the cooki-"

"They're on me today" You insisted.

"I couldn't possibly do that" he declined the offer. He was used to the generous hand outs as Steve Rogers, but never just as Steven. "Please let me pa-"

"Nope." You stepped back from the register. "Take them and go before I force you to take a third one!"

"So threatening!" He smiled and put his hands up in defense. "Thank you so much"

"Of course, have a good day! Hope to see you again soon." You waved, walking back into the kitchen to finish off the cake that was almost near perfect.

"Have a good one"

After finishing up the cake, you tagged the board with the invoice of the correct customer, then walked it back into the front to the cake display fridge to pop it in so it would be perfect and ready for pickup later that day.

You started tidying up the lobby of the store by re-organizing all of your retail items. Cute candy bars, greeting cards made by local artists, birthday candles, and the wall shelves full of sprinkles. You had a knack for making sure your store looked perfect and pristine at all times. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to where you were now, so you'd be damned if you let it be anything less than perfect.

You tidied up the bake case one last time and straightened up the register before the tip jar caught your eye, inside of it was a crisp $20 bill that definitely wasn't there before Steven.

Though there were a few customers in the store, all of them were students looking for a calm place to study. Headphones over their ears, their noses dug into their laptops. None of them had even moved in the last twenty minutes.

The smile and eye roll that took over your face was almost invasive, and you instantly knew the polite man would have no issue fitting in here in Greenwood.

Though you let your precious employees keep their well earned tip, you did take a $20 bill out from your own wallet and vowed to keep it with you every day until you hopefully found Steven again.

Just like every other day, you stayed at work until it was far too late before locking up and going home. You didn't even get passed your open car door in the driveway before your beloved neighbor Georgia was exiting her front door and running out of her house to greet you.

"It's about damn time, sweet cheeks, I was near ready to file a missing persons report!" She enthused.

Georgia never failed to be your best friend, gossip buddy, and the honorary mother you always wished you had. She'd send her husband to bed alone all night just to stay up and make sure you got home okay if she knew you were out late.

"Sorry" you giggled, grabbing the box of pastries you brought home with you and handing them to her. "Busy day! Treats for your troubles?"

She happily took the box from you knowing that whenever she was given one, there was always something mind-meltingly delicious on the inside. "You know Michael and I have put on a good five pounds in the last few months, and I fully blame you for it."

"Hey! I know you love a big boy, I'm doing you nothing but favors." You denied the blame. "Plus, you're pretty as a peach. A sweet thing like you deserves a sweet treat at least once a day."

"I ran over here to tell ya, we're hosting game night for the block on Saturday. If you don't come I'm going to keep rescheduling it until you do." She insisted.

"Saturday sounds lovely." You accepted the invitation. "What can I bring?"

"Just your pretty face"

"Okay, I'll bring salted caramel bars" You smiled.

"Bring a date" Georgia insisted.

"Now now, watch yourself..." You scolded, pointing your finger at her.

"You've been living in this beautiful house all by your lonesome for three years now. You know all I want is for you to be happy"

"I'm happy all on my own." You insisted with a smile you really had to force yourself to smear across your face. "I don't need a man to make me happy, I've got everything I need."

"You've got no one to prove that to but yourself, sweet cheeks." Georgia reached out and pinched your cheek between her fingers lovingly once she saw how deflated you became..

"Believe it or not, it's kind've hard to find someone worth your time in greenwood when your only options are guys you've already tried your hand at" You defended yourself.

"And what's wrong with that?" Georgia sassed.

"All the good ones are married, and all the bad ones are still bad. So if you don't mind, I'll be bringing some salted caramel bars on Saturday." You smiled.

"I haven't given up hope, and you shouldn't either!"

"Who said anything about giving up hope?" You furrowed your brows together and cocked your head to the side.

"...you have a good night now darlin'" Georgia smiled with a slight chuckle before waving and starting to walk away.

"Mmmmhmmm" You sassed. "Enjoy those pastries."

"I always do!"

The moment you walked into your humble abode, you could feel the weight of your day fall off your shoulders. Even more so as you put down your bag, kicked off your shoes, and dragged your feet up the stars with a heavy thunk on each step just to get yourself into the warm shower you had been dreaming of since waking up at 3:30am.

Just like a responsible adult, you cooked and fed yourself dinner then ate it on the couch with a thick faux fur blanket over your lap while watching The Great British Baking Show. Georgia liked to yell at you when she invasively yet also somehow welcomely showed up at your house with no warning and caught you using your time away from baking to, well, watch a show about baking?

Your defense was that their recipes are just so different over there! The difference in American and British flavor palettes was immense, and you loved getting new ideas for fun new pastries and flavors to implement onto the rotating menu.

After scolding you, you'd point to the Television above your fireplace to show her how they were doing a technical challenge to bake the perfect Victoria sponge cake, a quintessential and uniquely british dessert, and how that was so much different than your typical vanilla sponge in the States. Then, it would peak her interest.

You were never really sure if she was actually interested, or if she only payed attention because she desperately thought you needed someone to listen to you. Sometimes when you babbled on about baking, she would slow blink at your before gently saying, "Baby, you might as well be speaking a whole other language to me right now, but I'm just so happy you're doing what you love."

She'd get comfortable on your couch as you made her a cup of tea, the end up staying until her husband Michael called and reminded her that she had a husband at home.

But tonight you were happy to just be shoving some pesto pasta in your face with the company of no one but Netflix in complete peace. The small sensation of an almost distant ache in the back of your head also had you thankful that they had finally either finished, or were taking a break from construction on the little house next door to yours.

You didn't mind it much at first, you were gone for most of the day to miss the sounds of sawing and jackhammering, but sometimes the sounds would continue even after sunset and keep you awake past your geriatric bedtime. Sleep was very important when you had to wake up before the sun.

But your mama raised you to love thy neighbor and keep patience and grace close to your heart, so you bit your tongue for five long months and occasionally showered the construction workers in warm breakfast sandwiches and croissants. You hoped that their awareness to the neighbors occupation would keep them from working late into the night, but nope. You just continued biting your tongue a little harder.

Even worse than you was Andy and Phoebe that lived two doors down, the construction happened sandwiched between you two, and they had their new born baby girl at home through all of that banging and drilling. Apparently little Willow could now sleep through anything. Their dog barking at the sound of a door bell wasn't even an equal contender against the baby who had been subconsciously trained to stay calm in the midst of chaos.

You were in bed by 7 pm, up at 3am, back at work by 4am with $20 in your back pocket. A little part of you felt stupid while slipping the green bill into your denim jeans, it was quite delusional to assume the man would be back so soon, let alone at all, but a bigger part of you couldn't stand that his free cookies were not free.

The empty bake case was filled to the brim by 6:30am, all custom orders were done by 7. You barely even got a chance to wipe the sweat off your hairline from your face being in front of the oven before taking off your chefs coat and hair net and switching it to a front-of-house apron.

You had an excellent team of trained bakers, decorators, baristas, and a cashier, but that didn't stop you from getting your hands dirty by any means. Though your team was mighty, collectively you were tiny. Only 9 employees to hold the busiest bakery in the greater area down, you tended to step in wherever you were needed the most.

Today, you just happened to be taking orders and handing out latte's through morning rush before dedicating the rest of your day on getting a head start on custom orders for tomorrow.

Then tomorrow came around and all you did was start the dough for a few loaves of sourdough, your girls were going to take over after the first rise so you could focus on the payroll and product order placement that would be delivered on Friday. You got done all the boring stuff, responded to customer emails, printed out the invoices of all the orders through Friday, sorted through and organized the endless amounts of cookie cutters in the kitchen, then cleaned out the fridge to make sure all the ingredients were properly labeled and within date.

You worked one more day after that before having your first day off in 10 days. Yes, you made your own schedule. Yes, you worked far too much. No, that's not your fault.

You started by going on a short run, and taking a shower before going to the little diner 10 minutes down the road with Georgia for breakfast. The summer heat made your thighs stick to the leather booth beneath you, and the ceiling fans gently moved your hair around but you didn't seem to mind much. How could anything be a bother to your while you we're sneakily stealing a forkful of pancakes from your Neighbor's plate as her eyes were stuck on the news that was playing on an old TV in the upper corner of the diner.

You smiled as she peeled her eyes away just to glare at you while you stuck the syrupy goodness in your mouth. A bit of sticky maple caught on your lip, threatening to drip down your chin before you even got a chance to lick it off.

"Child, you are a mess." She shook her head at you and handed you a napkin. "How are they?"

"Heavenly." You giggled, wiping away the warm syrup on your face. "Hey, is it okay if I have a bite?" You questioned after stealing her food.

"You're like the child I never wanted." She insulted in good fun. Her being in her mid-fifties and you being late twenties- early thirty something, she loved to tease you because she knew you could take it in good fun. "See what you could've had if you didn't order... whatever that is?"

"An omelette?" You giggled. "I was in it for the side of hash-browns."

"Mmmm" Georgia tried to stay engaged, but her eyes kept wandering back to the news on the television.

You quickly looked up at the TV facing you in the opposite corner to the one she had her eyes on, but all you saw was pictures of Black Widow. She was beautiful, you always were jealous of her stunning fiery red hair and strength. You didn't pay much attention to why the bottom banner across the screen said 'Breaking News: Emergency Broadcast". Nothing Natasha Romanoff could've done was more important to the crispy shredded potatoes in front of you.

You didn't know much about the Civil War besides the basics. Most of what you knew came from Georgia and Michael. Politics was never your strong suit, you're pretty sure you almost failed government class back in high school. However, politics was something Michael was very... passionate about.

His political opinions were strong, and he wasn't shy to let you know about them. Whenever you were over at their house for dinner and the topic came up, you tended to just let him get it all out while you soaked it in and ate silently.

Though you didn't have an extensive knowledge on economics or how congressional issues worked, you did know how you felt about social issues. Most of the time; your opinions did not match up with Michael. And most of the time Georgia soaked in and inherited all of Michael's political stances.

Only a few times did you seek out information on the bombing of the United Nations meeting and the sokovia accords by your own means. Mostly because you felt like the information you were getting from Michael was probably influenced by his own stance on the matter. But from what you gathered, it was a complex issue you couldn't even begin to put your nose in. Especially since they were all superheroes arguing over what was the correct thing to do.

You grew up very much in the mindset of not judging people until you've walked a mile in their shoes, and walking in their shoes was impossible. Especially superhero shoes with jet blasters and and steel toes.

So as Georgia stated, "Miss Romanoff had so much potential, why she wasted it on protecting a brain washed assassin I will never understand." you stole another bite of her pancakes and shoved them into your mouth.

In turn, she stole some of your hash-browns and looked at you, waiting for feedback on her remark. "What did she do now?" You asked.

"She was found on American soil. The secretary tried detaining her considering she's a fugitive but she slipped passed his fingers." Georgia explained. "They're asking for tips trying to find her again."

You nodded your head in understanding of the urgency in the news broadcast, but you didn't exactly feel like having a passionate discussion about morals in the middle of a notoriously conservative small down.

"I guess I just don't understand why the government is treating Captain America's friends as criminals when they've all done so much to protect us... Aren't they just trying to do the right thing?" You questioned carefully as to not start an argument.

"Sweetheart it's not about what they used to do for us, it's about what they've done recently. They broke the law, destroyed public and private property, and broke out of the highest security prison in the world all because they didn't want to be controlled by the United Nations." Georgia explained.

"...but the issue was that they didn't want to be controlled, it was that they wanted to come up with a different solution because lives would be lost while waiting for the whole United Nations to decide what business they could stick their noses in, right?" You framed your opinion as a question once more as to appease any potential anger.

"Captain America and his whole team of friends became war criminals the moment they turned their backs on the government. It's really that simple." She insisted.

You looked back up to the TV to see the pictures of Captain America, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, the Falcon, the Winter Soldier, Ant-Man, and Hawkeye all looking back at you. The atmosphere between you and Georgia had gone quiet allowing you to hear the broadcasters voice.

'... if you see any of these individuals, do not approach. They are dangerous. Call 911. Remember, failure to report these individuals will be considered a misdemeanor punishable by jail time and a hefty fine. Do not approach.'

You observed the picture of the winter soldier in much more detail than the others, then your eyes grazed over Captain America.

One more big mouthful of your breakfast before an invasive thought overtook your brain and caused you to laugh out loud.

"What's got you laughing over there?" Georgia smiled at your antics.

"The winter soldier is so handsome, I think I'd become a war criminal trying to defend him too." You spat out between invasive laughter causing Georgia to laugh along with you no matter how hard she tried to contain it.

"I outta wash your mouth out with soap!" She laughed.

"Hey! No potty mouth here, just speaking the truth"

"This is why you need a boyfriend!" She smiled, pointing her pancake filled fork at you. "And a good one at that! I don't need to be seeing my baby girl all up in the news one day with the word 'wanted' written in bold red letters across her face."

"Hey, I've actually been meaning to ask you!" You started between bites. "A handsome fella came into the shop a few days ago. Said he was moving to greenwood in a few days, d'ya know anything about that?"

"What'd he look like, darlin'?" She questioned further. "I saw a stunner meet up with the owner of the house next door to yours while I was watering my peonies earlier this week. Watched him leave with a key in hand."

"He was tall, but I didn't get to see much to his face. It was blocked by a cap. I think his hair was dirty blonde from what I could see. He had really nice jeans on-"

"Full beard?" She asked.

"The most luscious and well groomed beard I've ever seen in this part of town." You confirmed with a giggle.

"I damn near blushed when I saw him from across the way! I bet he's moving in to that house then!" She enthused with a big smile. "Maybe this will be your escape from the Greenwood boys!"

"Are you kidding me? A man like that always comes a long with a wife and way too many children." You giggled.

"I bet that boy would make some beautiful babies" She kicked your leg underneath the table. "As would you."

"Not anytime soon" You shook your head with a blush in your cheeks.

"You know pregnancies over the age of 35 are considered geriatric?" She said backhandedly.

"Then consider me the oldest grandma in the nursing home." You denied once more

"I didn't see no ring on that man's finger, so he's single until proven married." Georgia smiled. "What did he get at the bakery?"

"One chocolate chip cookie" You hid your grin behind your hand holding your fork.

She raised her eyebrows mid pancake bite, chewing before speaking again as to not be impolite, but you already knew what she was thinking. "A married man would never get a cookie for just himself and not his wife. He's definitely single."

"Well he did say he drove into town for the key, so maybe he ate it before she even knew he had a cookie in the first place. Plus, I gave him two. You know how I feel about people who get one cookie..."

"So he's either single or the worst husband a girl could have. If Michael ever skipped out on getting me a cookie I'd divorce his ass on the spot." She shook her head.

"Why would you ever need Michael to bring you cookies when you have me, anyways?" You questioned, faking jealousy.

"Baby doll you're all I need" She smiled and reached over to squeeze your hand.

"That's more like it." You laughed.

Georgia smoothed over the pain of not being the only cookie provider in her life by paying the breakfast bill, even after you fought her over it for ten whole minutes because you invited her out to breakfast so you could treat her.

And when you two got home, you both immediately noticed all the construction on the house next to yours had been completely cleared out and it looked brand spankin' new.

What once was an older home with lots of rustic character looked more like all the surrounding houses with updated paint, new landscaping, fresh new features. It looked great without all of the dust and equipment blocking the view.

It was officially a home ready to be moved into, and any moment now you would have confirmation if your new neighbor was the same man you desperately owed $20.

Next Part: Inhale, Exhale

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