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natashaslesbian · 6 months

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We Saved Each Other (Part Three)

Summary: Natasha finds herself feeling protective over you when you have to go and see Doctor Bruce

Word Count: 1.9k

Parings (Natasha Romanoff x Kid!Reader)

Warnings/Content: Red Room references, medical check up, needles, crying, Fury appears, Nat being the biggest softie

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You woke up with a slight panic, the unfamiliar feeling of the sheets over your skin confusing your small brain. You reached out a single arm and folded it over to pull on your cuffs, but they didn’t seem to be there. You peered around the dimly lit room and your gaze caught a larger frame on the floor, sprawled out with curly red locks. So - yesterday hadn’t been a dream? You were still in your fluffy clothes and in the company of the one person who had ever shown you kindness. Almost on cue, Natasha began to stir. She groaned slightly, probably relieving the ache in her neck from sleeping on the floor. You pulled the duvet up to your chin, afraid the woman would see you and change her mind at hospitality she was offering you. When the redhead saw you were awake too, she smiled. So warmly. So calmly. “Good morning sweetheart!” Her soft nature had you itching to smile back “did you sleep well darling?” She asked, you only managed a nod. Natasha peeled herself from the floor and came to sit beside you, she opened her hand towards you “it’s okay, you’re still safe I promise” she could read you so well. You reached your hand out and slotted it into hers. “No chain?” You whispered.

The older widows heart dropped. They still did that? “No, no chains darling, you’re free to leave the bed whenever you’d like” this was so alien to you, but you sucked in a sharp breath and used your feet to push down the duvet and reach your other arm to Nat. She helped you down off the bed “thank you” you said “you’re very welcome, would you like some breakfast?” You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had eaten, and you were definitely hungry “no thank you” you lied. “It’s alright, you can have something to eat if you’d like” Natasha said “bread?” You questioned, “how about some toast?” You thought inquisitively “toast?” You had never heard of it before “it’s just like bread” the agent started “but it’s warm and you can but butter or jam on top” you were defiantly curious now “please may I have toast?” You smiled “of course”

You decided you wanted to have whatever Natasha was having on her toast, and today she chose butter. You watched her every move as she prepared the simple breakfast. “Here we are” she said. It was almost comical how excited you were over such a basic food but Natasha knew your taste buds hadn’t explored much at the red room. “Is it good?” She said “yes! So tasty!” You squealed, making the most noise you had since Natasha met you, she was loving seeing more of your personality. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long. “Good morning agent Romanoff!” Fury loudly made his presence known. You slid right back into your shell, not daring to look up from your plate “good morning” Romanoff said. “I’ve set up a doctors appointment for the young one, in an hour at the tower with doctor Banner, I thought you might like to take her there” take you where? To see a doctor? Didn’t Natasha say you were safe? The red head sensed your tension and came to Fury for a quiet word “um, is there any chance doctor Cho could see her? She might feel more comfortable with a female” she said “she’s away I’m afraid, it’s doctor Banner or no one” Fury boomed “he’s just gonna give her a check up and take some blood so we can get some information on her” Natasha felt her blood rising “she’s not a lab rat” she shot at her superior “No. but she is entirely unidentified to us. We don’t even know her name. It’s not to scare her Romanoff, it’s to help her okay. Try not to worry. I understand it’s close to home but I promise we’ll keep her safe” Nick’s words calmed Nat slightly, she still knew you would be terrified but she also knew this was important. Who knew what injury’s you could have.

You followed Natasha’s every instruction. Followed her to the car. Sat silently the whole journey. Quietly followed her into the avengers tower. Of course she was looking out for you, trying to assure you that you were safe but you were still scared. “Okay little one” she said as she came down to your level outside of a white door “my really good friend Bruce is a doctor, and he’s going to have a little look at you okay? He’s going to make sure that you’re well and that you’re not hurting. I promise he won’t hurt you” you hoped and prayed that ‘doctor Banner’ would be a girl, but no, instead it was a man, your biggest nightmare. The door opened to reveal a small hospital room, medical equipment littered everywhere, and everything you were afraid of was clear to your eyes. You couldn’t step foot in there. Silent tears crept towards your eyes and the widow was instantly at your side “hey, hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re safe I promise. I’m gonna be here the whole time and I’ll protect you, I promise!” She soothed, it worked for a moment and you crept towards the bed “can I lift you up?” Nat asked, you nodded. You sat in a nervous quietness and as promised, Natasha stayed right by your side. The door crashed open. A doctor came in. You whined quietly and leaned towards Nat. She was slightly took by surprise but immediately wrapped her arm around your shoulders, shushing you softly.

“Hi there, I’m Bruce” the doctor said. He had been filled in on the basics so decided to skip most of the small talk. You apprehensively let him check your temperature, eyesight and blood pressure. At the mention of having to look over your body for injury you focused your attention to the red head. “You don’t have to be ashamed of them, remember?” She said, quoting from your conversation last night. While keeping your dignity, you undressed and sceptically let Bruce take a look at you. He took notes, so many notes on his clipboard. He was probably writing down everything that was wrong with you. Banner made the examination as quick as possible, sensing how uncomfortable you were. He was glad to note down that you didn’t appear to have any recent injuries. “Ok” he said “there’s just one last thing we need to do okay. We need to have a blood test to make sure you’re all healthy inside and so we can learn a little more about you” what did they need to know? There’s nothing wrong with you. “It’s just a quick little prick darling. It’ll be over before you know it. And then I can find out your name. I’m sure it’s just as beautiful as my new friend” you didn’t quite understand her, who was she calling beautiful? Bruce tried to be discreet, but as soon as you saw the needle you flipped.

“NO. NO. NO.” You screamed as you pulled away from them both “you say safe! You going to hurt me!” You started crying your heart out. Natasha was taken aback. “Sweetheart it’s okay I promise, we’re not going to hurt you it’ll just be a small prick” her words brought no comfort. You cried and cried. It was happening again. You trusted her and she was betraying you “No! Let me go!” You screamed as arms wrapped tightly around you “I’ve got you darling, I’m gonna keep you safe I promise” Natasha whispered into your ear. You calmed ever so slightly, her voice bringing you comfort. You were to weak to fight her, there was no where to go. Bruce came towards you with a sharp needle. you would tell them anything they wanted to know, anything that would stop the pain walking towards you. Nat’s grip tightened around you, suffocating you in her warmth. The doctor decided this was his only chance. The needle pushed past your skin, sinking into your blood. You let out the most gut wrenching scream, Natasha had to hold back her tears, she knew all to well what you were going through. “Y/N!” You screamed “my name is y/n” your voice was hoarse, like you were swallowing glass “I promise. Please!” it was hard to comprehend but Natasha heard it “y/n” she cooed “it’s okay y/n. Your safe” nothing seemed to stop the pain and memories that filled your little head. The only thing you could do was squeeze your eyes tightly shut, just hoping and praying it would be over soon. all your strength was gone, small whimpers were all you could release.

“Hey y/n, look” her soft voice caught your attention. She pointed over Bruce, on the other side of the room. “It’s all done” she said “you did so well y/n” you continued to whimper into her shoulder for a few moments and although you were hurting, Natasha was loving holding you so close. “Well done y/n. We’re all finished now” Bruce said. The older widow was quick to remove you from such a frightening environment and headed to her bedroom in the tower. The morning had taken its toll on you, you were in desperate need of a nap, but you knew you weren’t allowed one. “Here we are y/n. This is my bedroom, and you can stay here for as long as you need. You hummed in an unsure agreement “would you like to take a nap sweetheart?” Natasha said as she sat you down her bed. “I can have nap?” You said as you rubbed your sore red eyes “of course you can y/n. It’s okay if you’re tired and need a rest” you shyly nodded and crawled up to the pillows with Natasha’s approval. Nat helped to tuck you in all snug and then set off to the door “Natty?” You whined. Her heart stopped, the first time you used her name and it was the most beautiful nickname she had ever been given. “Yeah y/n?” She said “will ou howld me pwease?” You mumbled, already falling to sleep “of course” the redhead wasted no time and climbed into her plush bed with you, you wrapped yourself around her and fell into a deep slumber.

Natasha was too shocked to move. This tiny little person she had known for less than 48 hours had given her so much trust. But Nat knew she was a monster, even if the little y/h/c haired girl didn’t. Natasha was still traumatised by her past, how could she help you deal with yours? She didn’t know the first thing about caring for a toddler, or even about caring for herself. The widow thought of countless ways she could give you a better life, she could take you to an adoption agency, maybe Clint’s family could take you in? But every idea came back to the same thought, she would miss you so much. Natasha couldn’t imagine ever letting you go, she wanted to hold you like this forever. She carefully reached for her phone and dialled her new found friend “Hey Natasha” he answered after a few rings “Hi Clint” Nat said as she took a deep breath “her name’s y/n” Clint smiled, although Natasha couldn’t see it “how’s she doing?” He asked “she’s frightened, scared, afraid, she just fell asleep…” she trailed off “and?” Clint said, already knowing his new partner so well “and” Natasha started “I’m gonna keep her”

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I’m loving writing this series, please please send me any ideas you’d like me to include or touch on!

-Astara🩷

#marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x little!reader #clint x natasha #director fury #nick fury #clint barton #autistic spectrum #natasha x y/n

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yourdailymarvelmemes · 27 days

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#memes #marvel #marvel memes #mcu #loki #nick fury #director fury

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jonasdirection101 · 1 year

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Fury: “Strange! Where is Stark?”

Stephen: “Sorry director, I haven’t seen him since that last time I saw him.”

Fury: “And when was that?”

Stephen: “The last time I saw him?”

Fury: “Yes.”

Stephen: “It was definitely the time I saw him last.”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect quotes #ironman #tonystark #doctorstrange #stephenstrange #ironstrange #nick fury #director fury

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year

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Sunshine

Summary: Steve pays a visit to the Smithsonian’s new exhibit honoring Captain America, and a little bit of sunshine unexpectedly breaks through his cloudy day.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a candid depiction of depression and its symptoms, and brief depictions of PTSD

A/N: I wanted to start this new one-shot collection off with a look into Steve’s POV, specifically when he meets (Y/N) in the Smithsonian. It was my favorite moment to write in The Winter Soldier and I had so much fun revisiting it from a new perspective! Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope that you enjoy!

Sunshine March 2014 Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, Washington D.C. (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Although it had been over two years since he’d been discovered alive and frozen in time within the wrecked remnants of Schmidt’s plane, Steve Rogers still didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had work, of course; completing missions on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. was familiar, reminiscent of his past and all the work he’d done alongside the SSR as the leader of the 107th tactical team throughout the war. But outside of work, he struggled to find ways to keep himself occupied. The notebook he filled with seventy years of various pop culture references kept him busy but as his understanding of the 21st century grew, so too did the disconnect he felt from the people and places that surrounded him.

So, on a beautiful spring afternoon that others were no doubt spending with their friends and family, Steve found himself sitting alone in the screening room of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum’s ‘Captain America: A Living Legend and Symbol of Courage’ exhibit. The filmed testimonials of various men and women who’d been directly or indirectly impacted by his actions included an emotionally-charged interview of Peggy Carter from the early 1950’s, several years after the creation of S.H.I.E.L.D. and her promotion to its first Director. Her hairstyle was different and her brown eyes had the hardened look of someone who’d seen far too much pain in such a short span of time, but to Steve she looked exactly the same as she had when they’d fought through Schmidt’s mountain fortress together in 1945.

“That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve…Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a Hydra blockade that had pinned our allies down for months.”

Steve remembered the battle, just as he remembered each and every battle before and after. His elevated body temperature and high metabolism kept him from feeling the chill of the blizzard that raged on as he fought, but nothing in the super-soldier serum could keep his body from going numb when he saw the frozen and broken bodies of hundreds of soldiers scattered amongst the snow. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from visualizing the explosions ripping through Panzers and hearing the roaring gunfire ricocheting off his vibranium shield, and he took a deep breath before opening his eyes and refocusing on Peggy.

“He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would…who would become my husband, as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life.”

He looked down at the compass in his hands and studied the black-and-white photograph he’d clipped out of a newspaper back in ‘44. He was happy that Peggy had gotten to live a long and happy life surrounded by loved ones and he made sure to tell her every time he visited her in the nursing home, but he couldn’t help but envy her a little; she’d lived the life he’d always wanted back before he took the serum and became Captain America, but after all he’d seen and done since, he wasn’t even sure what sort of life he wanted to live. He was lost in an unfamiliar world filled with people who believed he should be grateful for a chance at a new life and who didn’t care to know how he truly felt about his situation. It didn’t take him very long to learn that only one thing remained constant after seventy years: the rest of the world only saw Captain America, the Star-Spangled-Man-With-A-Plan, and not Steven Grant Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn who hated bullies and who only wanted to do the right thing.

The video continued to play as Steve stood and exited the screening room, slipping his hands into his jacket’s pockets and bowing his head while he went. The rest of the exhibit was filled with tourists eagerly examining artifacts from his life before and during his time of service, and Steve felt a familiar twinge of discomfort at the sight; it’s like they don’t understand that they belonged to real people and not characters from a story, he thought to himself as he walked past a group of young adults snidely critiquing Dum Dum Dugan’s combat gear displayed on a mannequin along with the rest of the 107th tactical team. There were far fewer people near the display dedicated to Bucky, so Steve gravitated towards it and studied the old photograph of his best friend; he was smiling and there was still a sparkle of life in his eyes, eyes that hadn’t yet seen the brutality of war, the unspeakable horrors concocted by the Nazis and the gruesome torture inflicted on him by Hydra while he was a POW.

Steve’s memories of Bucky and that fateful mission in the Alps were suddenly interrupted when the young woman standing in front of him turned and collided with his chest, dropping her notebook onto the ground and scattering its loose papers across the floor; she immediately knelt and began gathering up the sheets and Steve winced at the accident he’d inadvertently caused. “Sorry! Here, let me help you with that.” He kneeled on the ground before her and assisted her. “I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry-”

“I’m the one who should say sorry, I was so wrapped up in writing that I didn’t see…” The young woman’s voice faltered when she looked up from their shared work and her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in recognition. “Steve?”

Steve’s own eyes widened as he finally recalled just where he’d seen the woman before. “(Y/N), right? From yesterday morning?”

(Y/N) nodded. “That’s me.” She took the papers and tucked them inside her well-worn notebook as they stood. “What brings you to the Smithsonian?”

He shrugged and took a moment to adjust the bill of his baseball cap while he thought up a suitable answer. “I had the day off, and I guess I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. What about you?”

“Research,” She answered with a smile as she proudly brandished her notebook. “I’m writing a novel, so I was looking up information on Soviet Cold War-era missiles. Then when I finished with that, I thought I’d also see what all the fuss was about. I actually had another spark of writing inspiration before I smacked into you just now.”

Steve’s brows rose with interest. “You’re a writer? Have I heard of any of your work before?”

“Well, this novel I’m working on is actually my first.” They both stepped aside to let a group of schoolchildren read Bucky’s display. “I’m trying to become a historical fiction novelist, and I chose to write about the Cold War for my first novel.” Steve couldn’t help but admire the brightness in her smile and how the simple gesture illuminated her entire face, so much so that he nearly missed her question. “So, what do you think? Is everything here historically accurate?”

“Pretty much. What do you think of it?”

(Y/N) considered his question for a moment before answering. “I don’t know yet; on one hand, I think it’s great that an exhibit like this exists to educate people, especially children, about history, but part of me can’t stop thinking that it’s also an invasion of privacy.” Taken slightly aback by her reply, Steve frowned in confusion and watched as she gestured towards the many display cases surrounding them. “Like these, for example. These are private sketches of your family and friends that I’m sure you never meant for others to see. And over there, they have your underwear on display, for God’s sake!” A nearby middle-aged couple threw her a disapproving glare at her exclamation and Steve did his best to stifle his chuckle. “I don’t know, I think that they should show more respect when they create exhibits like this, especially if the person they’re about is still alive. You may be Captain America, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a little privacy, too.” The earnestness and underlying indignation in her words of defense took him by surprise, and it wasn’t until her head tilted to the side in curiosity that he registered the small smile playing on his own lips. “What is it?”

“Nothing…you just sound a little different from most of the people I’ve met since coming out of the ice.” Steve looked over at his best friend’s display and awkwardly cleared his throat as he struggled to keep their conversation going. “It’s lucky that I ran into you, actually, I was gonna try and stop by the VA today but I have no idea what the address is.”

“Oh, I’ve got it right here!” She reached into her pocket for her cell phone and began tapping away. “Let me see, where did I-ah, found it! It’s 50 Irving Street Northwest. All you have to do is go down North Capitol-wait, it might be 6th Street instead…and of course, no signal in here…” A small line formed between her brows as she frowned. “Urgh, if I had my car with me, I’d just give you a ride since I’m going there later anyways but Sam took it to work this morning…”

“I could always give you a ride, if you want?” Steve blurted out, praying that he wouldn’t start blushing as she considered his abrupt but sincere offer. “It’d be no trouble at all.”

(Y/N)’s smile brightened her expression and she nodded. “Okay, then. I’m pretty much done here, so just let me know when you wanna leave.”

“Let’s go.” They walked out of the exhibit and Steve snuck a clandestine look at the writer walking beside him; she was undoubtably pretty, with strikingly intelligent (Y/E/C) eyes and lips that seemed perpetually ready to curve into a teasing smile, and just as he’d done the day before when they’d first met by the National Mall, he compared her to sunshine breaking through a cloudy sky. She was vivacious and so full of life – a shining example of a modern 21st century woman – but at the same time, something about the way she talked and carried herself reminded him of a different time. He’d gone on a couple of dates since coming out of the ice but up to that point, the only woman he felt comfortable being around was Natasha, his coworker and occasional mission partner at S.H.I.E.L.D.; with (Y/N), though, he felt unusually at ease and the only discomfort came from the shyness she brought out in him. C’mon, Rogers, there’s nothing scary about just talking to her, he scolded himself before swallowing thickly and speaking up. “So, how far along are you with your novel?”

“I’m actually almost done with it, thank God. Not that I don’t enjoy writing, of course, but some days it feels like I’ve been writing this thing for a decade.” (Y/N) hitched the strap of her messenger bag higher on her shoulder and flashed him a thankful smile as he held the museum’s front door open for her. “Today was my last day of research. All I need to do is finish writing the last few chapters and then I can send them to my publisher for final approval.”

Steve smiled at the enthusiasm he detected in her voice. “Have you already chosen a title?”

“It’s called For Queen and Country, but there’s a funny story about how that came to be. I originally titled it The Détente Paradox, because the novel chronicles how a female MI5 agent discovers a plot to infiltrate and destabilize peace talks between the United States and the U.S.S.R.; my publisher argued that even if American readers knew the English translation, they wouldn’t understand the story from the title alone-”

“The Relaxation Paradox; makes perfect sense to me.” Steve felt himself flush as (Y/N)’s brows rose in surprise. “I, um, speak a little French. Sorry, you were saying?”

She looked impressed as they made their way towards the museum’s parking lot. “The criticism got under my skin and I couldn’t think of anything else until one night, my publisher called me after binge-watching some classic James Bond movies with his wife. In a couple of them, James Bond sometimes says he does the things he does as a spy ‘for Queen and country,’ and-wait, do you know about James Bond?”

“Nope, but I’ll go ahead and add him to the list,” Steve replied as he pulled out his notebook and jotted down the fictional spy’s name.

“So anyway, my publisher convinced me to change the title to For Queen and Country. I’d hate to boost his ego, but it sounds a lot better than anything I thought of.”

Tucking the notebook back into his pocket, Steve scanned the parking lot for any potential threats while he remarked, “In my day, authors usually sent a completed novel to a publisher instead of sending it in separate parts. I guess that’s changed, too?”

“No, that hasn’t changed; this publishing company’s co-owned by one of my old friends from high school who also happens to be the only person I trust to edit my writing. My situation is a little unorthodox, though; to convince his publishing partner to give a first-time novelist like me a chance, he’s been giving him some of my short stories to read. His partner likes them so far, so as long as I keep sending in things that he enjoys he might agree to publish my novel once it’s finished.”

Steve hummed to himself, even more impressed by the writer walking beside him than he already was. “Sounds stressful.”

“Well, it’s not ideal but it makes balancing research and work a little easier, and I’m not about to quit now, not while I’m so close to being published.” (Y/N) shrugged and looked over at him with a kindly smile on her face. “But what about you? What’re you doing to keep busy these days?”

Hastily deciding that (Y/N) didn’t need to know how he spent his free time alternating between visits with his ninety-three year old first love and moping alone in his apartment, Steve replied, “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Whenever I have some free time I read the internet and go through my list to mark things off. I didn’t have much to do this morning, so I listened to some of the soundtrack from American Graffiti; it’s not what I’m used to, but I liked it. All the songs sound unique from one another.”

The writer’s eyes lit up when he mentioned her music recommendation, and he felt his heart stutter at the beautiful sight. “Right? My mom was born in the sixties so she grew up listening to that type of music. Whenever my brother and I had to help on chore day, she’d put on her old records so that we’d have something fun to listen to while we cleaned the house.” They walked through the parking lot and as they turned down an aisle, Steve subtly checked that they weren’t being followed while an unaware (Y/N) continued to talk. “Sam thinks that music from that era is too cheesy, but this is also the guy who thinks that Marvin Gaye’s better than Jimi Hendrix so what the hell does he know?” He stopped beside his motorcycle and she sucked in a quick breath. “Is this yours?”

“Yep, it’s a Harley-Davidson Street 750. The one back there in the exhibit’s a Harley, too, a modified ’42 WLA Liberator. I’ve always preferred motorcycles to cars, so it was nice to see that they haven’t changed too much over the-” The rest of his sentence died in his throat when he caught sight of the unreadable expression on (Y/N)’s face, and his heart instantly plummeted in his chest. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that I didn’t have a car. If you’re not comfortable with-”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ve always wanted to ride a motorcycle!” (Y/N)’s exclamation took him by surprise, but he managed to return her excited smile with one of his own. “Do you have a spare helmet?” He pulled a helmet out of the bike’s back compartment and tossed his baseball cap into it, trying his best not to think about how cute she looked when she placed the helmet on her head. “Wait, what about yours?”

Steve flashed her a teasing grin. “Super-soldier, remember?” She rolled her eyes as he swung a leg over the bike and sat, giving the empty space behind him a pat before placing his hands back on the handlebars. “Hop on.” She followed his direction with less than perfect grace, doing her best to respect his personal space while also trying her hardest not to fall flat on her face, and Steve bit back a smile as he watched her progress in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be able to hear you over the engine noise, so feel free to give directions as we go. And make sure to hold on tight, okay?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Chuckling, Steve revved up the engine and backed out of the parking spot; the writer seated behind him predictably panicked at the sudden movement and involuntarily moved her hands from beneath her seat to rest on his waist, causing Steve to blush as he gently took hold of her hands and guided her to wrap her arms around his torso. If he weren’t a super-soldier with heightened abilities, he almost certainly would’ve crashed the motorcycle because of how distracted he found himself by (Y/N)’s presence. He could feel the warmth of her body through his jacket and smell the faint scent of her perfume as she clung onto him and on a wild impulse, he sped up and grinned when she shrieked in delight and tightened her hold on him. True to his word, he heard her give him directions amidst her laughter and much to his disappointment, they reached the VA in under fifteen minutes.

Steve parked the motorcycle in front of the building and switched off the engine before turning in his seat to look at his beaming passenger. “So, how was your first ever motorcycle ride?”

“Amazing!” She held onto his shoulders as she clambered off the bike and removed the helmet. “I might even have to trade in my baby for one!” Steve’s eyes widened at her remark, and she hastily shook her head. “No, no, that’s just my dumb nickname for my Volkswagen Bug! I don’t have an actual baby, of course, and if I did I certainly wouldn’t trade it…um, so yeah, no baby…and no guy, either, in case you were wondering. I’m single, single like a Pringle.” (Y/N) cringed at her own words and dropped her head in her hand to avoid eye-contact. “You can stop my dumb rambling anytime now, Steve…”

Steve’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, it’s not dumb. Entertaining, yeah, but definitely not dumb.”

The writer shot him a glare that would’ve intimidated him if it hadn’t looked so adorable on her. “You know, you’re a lot more of a pain in the ass than the history books make you out to be.”

Just as he was prepared to say something flirtatious, his cell phone chimed with a notification and when he looked to see what it was, his heart sank in his chest and reality came crashing back down on him.

Nurse Alia: Mrs. Carter’s been having a rough day. Might do her some good to see an old familiar face.

Steve tucked his cell phone back into his pocket and looked back up at a confused (Y/N) with an apologetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry but I’ve gotta go, something just came up. I’ll try and make it for the end of the meeting, though.”

“Okay, I’ll be sure to let Sam know!” Their fingers brushed as he took the helmet from her and stowed it away, and she gave him a half-hearted wave as he revved the engine and backed out of the parking spot. He returned her wave and sped off down the street, the image of (Y/N) standing by herself on the sidewalk with a befuddled expression on her face burned into his memory while he navigated the streets of D.C. to reach Peggy’s retirement home. But while he drove, he recalled the way his heart lurched when (Y/N) smiled at him, how lovely her laughter sounded as he gave her her first ride on a motorcycle and just how – for the briefest of moments – he hadn’t felt so alone and unseen. Like sunshine breaking through a cloudy sky, he thought to himself once again, resolving to see the writer who uncovered Steve Rogers from beneath the façade of Captain America again as soon as he could.

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A/N: This was my first time writing from Steve’s POV, so let me know how you liked it so I can decide if I wanna write from his POV in a future one-shot! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and I hope that you enjoyed it!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

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Stumblin’ In Book I: “The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

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#stumblin in #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #peggy carter #director carter #nick fury #director fury #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe

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figures4fun · 4 months

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Don’t try to herd cats, Nick. Trust us on this one, it doesn’t work.

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lemonnsss · 1 month

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Moral of the Story Chapter 6

A/N: School is pain. ALSO- I changed MC’s(?) I’m universe name to make it more GN

Warnings: Trypanophobia

Chapters: 1,2,3, 4, 5, 6

Taglist: @vicmc624 , @mostlymarvelgirl , @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy , @moonlightreader649 , @whattheduckisupkyle , @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan , @mrsbarnes32557038 , @imyourbratzdoll , @weallhaveadestiny

Word Count: 1.2k

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A bright blue light accompanied by the sound of the Iron Man suit’s beam powering up came as a shock, seemingly out of nowhere.

She brought her arms back up and turned around, shocked, obviously not expecting his appearance.

“You know, if you’re going to kill someone, then at least don’t call their boss to let them know their assistant’s awake. Amateur move, honestly. Although, I guess this would be your first time intentionally killing someone.” He moved his other hand languidly, illustrating his point.

Her hand moved down again, the needle almost grazing my skin, “You don’t understand. I don’t have a choice.” Unspilled tears broke her voice.

“Everyone has a choice, though the other option may not be so appealing.”

She started shaking her head from side to side and let the syringe drop against my skin, “You don’t know what it’s like to be so poor that you are used to the feeling of borderline starvation. To work two or more jobs so you don’t end up on the streets.” She couldn’t help but let the tears flow. That much was evident despite her face being turned away from me.

“So, your loyalty lies with money? How much did they pay you?”

“About forty thousand euros, enough to afford my son’s treatment.”

“What? Isn’t healthcare free in Europe?” he shifted his weight onto his other leg.

My heart was pounding in my chest so hard it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Despite that, I was breathing too much too fast. I did everything I could to stay focused and present as they spoke. I was trying to prevent myself from hyperventilating.

“... It is. He is very sick. The specialists are in America. They are his best chance.”

His features softened, still firm, yet now more sympathetic, “I can’t say I know what it’s like, financially I mean, but my mother died when I was seventeen. If I were alone in a foreign country when I discovered she wasn’t coming back. I don’t know what I would’ve done. Put the syringe away, and I’ll put double in your account. Does that sound okay?”

I couldn’t understand why Mr. Star-Tony, was doing this. Eighty-thousand euros? That’s what- fifty-six, fifty-seven thousand dollars? What could he gain from this? Is he doing this as an act of charity?

She looked at me, tears streaming down her face, staining her shirt, "They know where he is, or at least where to look. I can't put him in danger." She turned back to Tony, "I'm sorry."

The needle plunged through my skin unnoticeably initially, the sharpness of the needle to blame - then, not even a second after its insertion the entire area stung with a pinch.

If I wasn’t shaking before I was shaking now. My whole body shook as the threat of my death was coming closer to fruition. Whoever ordered my death had succeeded.

The high-pitched hum that had previously filled the room dissipated with a high shriek and a beam of bright blue light. Her arm was blown off along with the plunger of the syringe. Her arm, the muscle structure, tendons, nerves, everything that had been attached to her not even a second ago was now incinerated, leaving nothing but the blood that was spurting across the bed.

She cried animalistically at the burnt-off nerve endings screamed out in pain, her blood spat out drenching the fabric of my hospital sheets and the floor beneath us.

The syringe was still in my arm. I expected the morphine to flow out of the needle; instead, my bloodshot up through the needle, mixing with the pain meds. I couldn’t move. Tony dashed over to me, ignoring the woman writing on the ground, and pulled what remained of the syringe before an air bubble found its way into my bloodstream.

A little blood came out of the insertion point but Tony pressed his armored hand around, stopping the overall, minor blood flow.

Finally, another nurse ran into the doorway looking into the room, he gasped slightly, face turning white, at the sight of his coworker on the ground, her blood surrounding her.

He ran over to her, grabbing gloves and a tourniquet along the way, “What happened here?”

“Your colleague tried to kill my assistant.”

His head jolted up, “What? Maria attacked you? I-I’m sorry. You must know she hasn’t been in a great mental state recently. She isn’t normally like this.”

“I’ll be requesting a transfer to a different hospital in the area, I’d also like to recommend telling your manager that I’ll be suing until they are transferred though I will not be leaving their room which I hope will be changed. Okay?”

After the nurse, whose name was Maria apparently, was taken out of the room to fix the end of what remained of her arm I was taken to a new room where I took a shower and returned to a new bed. The only people in the room were myself and Tony. Now felt like the best time to pop the question that had beset in my mind.

"Why did you do that?" He looked up from his phone, swiveling his head to the door I was standing beside.

"Do what? You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"I don't know. Maybe shooting a person's arm off?" He raised a brow, my sarcasm not lost on him.

"You're the first person who hasn't tried to jump my bones, who's been offended at the notion of it, in a few years. If you died, Pep would kill me. Simple as that." He shrugged his shoulders before leaning on one of the arms of the chair, “How did you transfer the gunshot wound from my body to yours? And why would someone pay to have you killed, or at least subdued? And are those questions related?”

I looked down at my feet, “I don’t know why someone would try to kill me. And I don’t know if it’s related, but I would assume yes.”

“Hm…” That was all the response I got.

It’s been about a year since I started working for Mr. Stark. Thankfully, the topic of how I healed him hasn’t come up again. His security team got buffed after the incident and I got a bonus plus the sign-on bonus plus my first month's salary - the total of which, after taxes, was more than my yearly pay from Xaviers. Things were calm.

When I came into work today the main door to Mr. Starks office was locked. It wasn’t unusual. He rarely came into work, so when he did it was typically earlier than I came in. I went to my office to finish up what I could for this week's paperwork.

A quiet ring came from the in-office phone, Mr. Stark’s line. I picked up the clunky handset- which probably hadn’t been replaced since the nineties- “Hello, Mr. Stark-”

“For the last time, it’s Tony. Stop it with the, ‘Mr. Stark’ nonsense.”

“Apologies, Tony. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah, do you mind coming into my office? There’s someone for you.”

“Of course, give me just a moment.”

I stood up and flattened the creases in my clothes before walking through the door that joined our offices. A man was wearing all black with an eyepatch standing in front of Tony’s desk.

“Hello, Mx… Eirsson?”

“Yeah, a bit of an odd last name, I know. Pardon but, what is this about?”

“My name is Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

#steve rogers x reader #captain america #mcu #mcu fanfiction #captain america x reader #fanfic #captain steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #mcu x reader #nick fury #director fury #tony stark #iron man

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