#kas4kwc

[kashimos-hajime]

Far From Home | b.b.

summary: Bucky Barnes hates you. You play music too loud in the morning, you’re cold and closed off, you’re selfishly selfless, you confuse the hell out of him—the list could go on and on. He hates you, but when you go missing, he can’t stop himself from spending every waking hour trying to find you. What was that old saying? A fine line between hate and love? Yeah, Bucky walks that line like a man who’s had three beers too many.

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of addiction, vomit, angst, y’all HATE each other fr pairing: bucky barnes x stark!sister reader word count: 10.9k

a/n: written for @wkemeup​​​ and @captain-kelli​​​ who both achieved follower milestones!! congratulations, you two! :) both prompts are bolded below. enemies to lovers who are still enemies here we go! song inspo is far from home (the raven) by sam tinnesz

“How long?”

“Seventy three hours since last contact. Fuck, Steve. Where is she?”

“I don’t know. Last I saw of her was the party but for all we know she’s just sleeping in.”

“No. My sister is not a party animal. She would’ve called me. She knows to call me.” Beep. “What am I looking at, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Last known footage of Ms. Stark. She signed some autographs in Miami before departing for an unknown location.”

The air is frigid as the room goes quiet.

Steve speaks first. “Tony—”

Who’s gonna tell Barnes?”

A beat.

“We can’t tell him. We don’t even know if she’s missing or not.”

Bucky stops at the edge of the entrance, his ears pricked as he presses himself against the wall. Tilting his head to the door, he waits for someone to say something.

“I’m telling you that she is. I know in my heart that there is something wrong and I say that she has been captured, or injured, and that she might be scared and Barnes…” A bitter, cold, laugh that sounds more like a scoff. “He’s not going to stop until he gets her back. I don’t know about you but I don’t want some brainwashed super soldier killing everyone just because he didn’t have the balls to—”

“You can’t say that, Tony. She’s gonna show up.”

“Shut up, Steve. She would’ve found some way to call me. That girl never has her phone on 0%. She doesn’t go off the grid. This is Y/N, not some bimbo who doesn’t know better than to call her brother.”

“She isn’t a kid.”’

“She is to me! She is a kid. She is the little sister I have failed over and over to protect so why don’t you shove that little righteous speech about how she’s a grown woman up your ass.”

“Except you’re not treating her like the adult she is. You know she can take care of herself.”

Bucky can hear Tony’s soft inhale, feel the intensity of the man’s glare directed at Steve. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but a twitch of muscle would be enough to alert both men that he’s here. With the amount of tension crackling in the air, a brush against the wall would be equivalent to a thousand cymbals crashing in cacophony.

“Tony, Afghanistan wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have changed what the Ten Rings did, to you or to her. You’re not responsible for that.”

“Someone has to be. Who put her there, huh?”

“Tony—”

“You know what, I’m gonna try the London center, and go by her cabin.”

“Tony, wait—”

A door slams shut. It rattles Bucky’s bones and he swallows down the bruising in his throat as he closes his eyes, tilting his head back until it knocks into the metal walls. Missing. You, missing, and suddenly his chest is heavier than mountains. He feels like he could drown in his own blood, like every rib in his chest is breaking.

“Buck,” Steve calls, and he opens his eyes to a sting of cold air. Something tastes like iron in his mouth as he pushes off the wall and enters the room. Steve is standing there, his fingers pressed against the table as he continues to stare at the door Bucky assumes Tony left through.

“Who said she’s missing?” Bucky asks roughly in a way he hopes sounds unaffected. Steve’s eyes drag towards him, his blue eyes wide like a puppy and Bucky narrows his own gaze. “You know how she gets when she’s pissed.”

“Yeah. I wish she was more like Tony that way,” Steve sighs, his other hand hooked on his belt. “Buck, I don’t know what to say. You know what’s going on with her?”

“Nope.” His expression twitching, Bucky silently curses as Steve’s eyebrows raise, lips parting. He seems to struggle with what he wants to say and Bucky’s eyes fall to his shoes like a scolded child. Searching the tile, he swallows down the knot in his throat.

“Bucky.”

His head jerks up and he meets his best friend’s gaze defiantly. “Steve.”

“What’d you say to her?”

His lungs feel like they’re about to bust. An urgency tugs at his chest, his gut flipping over as he looks away, at the wall, anywhere except Steve’s curious, insistent gaze.

“Steve, I swear to fucking god I didn’t mean it.” His eyes flutter shut at the memory and he lowers his head in shame, leaning against the table by his hand. Everything inside him lurches and he feels like he’s going to throw up as the sound of you echoes in his head. Fury incarnate, hell freezing over at your voice. “She just told me she was stepping back. I just—” His words catch in his throat, and he can’t continue. Anger and guilt fight within him like starving beasts caged for far too long battling over a juicy flank of deer. The meat of his memory bleeds into his bones. “We had a fight before the party. It just piled up.”

“You couldn’t be coolheaded about this?” Steve asks quietly and Bucky looks at him with a terrible devil lurking in his gaze. No one has ever known—especially Tony, especially Steve. No one knows. “She’s the only person I’ve ever seen you lose your temper on, Buck.”

“You’d be surprised by what she brings out in me,” he muses flatly, that terrible thing melting into his voice. A bitter twitch to his mouth, he looks up and thinks of all the places he thinks you would go to, just to spite him. Pulling out his phone, he half-hopes to see some message from you, even if it is a drunk text. You off the rails is better than you going dead silent.

The cabin in the woods. London. Miami.

Something inside of Bucky aches for release—aches to put a hole in the wall just to feel something other than pain, rage, hate, hate, hate.

“You’re her friend,” his blond, Captain America, broad-shouldered, symbol-of-America, friend Steve says, because despite what some people think that Steve and Captain America are two different personas, there will always be parts of Steve in the Avenger, and parts of the Avenger in Steve. They both want to believe in something good. They are, after all, one in the same.

Just as how Bucky and the Winter Soldier are the same man despite everything. HYDRA simply amplified the hate, fertilized the seeds of rage, curated the quiet thunder within his soul, within James Buchanan Barnes so that the Winter Soldier could thrive.

He has spent more than half his life believing the Starks are the enemy, and half of his waking moments, wondering if it’s true. Whenever he looks at Tony, he sees Howard—the title FRIEND crossed out with violent strokes, ENEMY written in blood. Whenever he looked at you, he felt something that walked a fine line.

“We barely tolerated each other.” Bucky brushes it off, pocketing his phone and turning away. He doesn’t want to think about your damned starlight eyes that sparked with rebellion, the rope of hair you always had pulled back in a ponytail, the smear of oil, the smudge of dirt, the raw scratch of your nails. Something so primal, unadulterated ecstasy.

It was the effect of you on his mind, his body.

“That’s not what Tony thought.” Steve’s words crawl after him as he turns to walk out of the room and Bucky pauses at the silence that follows. He knows Steve well enough to know when he wants to keep going. “What is it?”

“What I said?”

“No. Buck,” Steve sighs, his name echoing coldly against metal walls. Bucky turns to see him, nearly glaring daggers, “what is it between you and her?”

Anger. Grief. Hate. Lust.

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugs despite how much it feels like there’s a thousand pound weights on his shoulders. “If she ran away without telling Stark, he’s gonna be insufferable about it, but that’s not on me.”

“So you think there’s nothing to worry about.” Bucky turns to Steve who crosses his arms, leaning against the edge of the table. His eyebrows are still raised—he wants an honest answer.

If Bucky were an honest man, he would’ve told Steve everything since the beginning, but he hasn’t and he isn’t, and Bucky does not want to hide things from Steve, but he will always make and has always made exceptions for you.

“I’ll worry when there’s something to worry about.” Steve doesn’t believe him, and Bucky chews on his cheek, stepping back into the room. There’s something he has to prove to Steve, something that isn’t even real, and Bucky feels a million pairs of eyes bearing into his back. I will not slip, I will not slip, I will not slip. “Look, she can take care of herself. She’ll show up because someone picked a fight with her and lost, and then she’ll be fine.”

“Bucky. Come on.” Steve’s trying to appeal to the kindness in his heart but Bucky doesn’t have room for it with all the unbridled fear that lurks in his chest. It carves out a home in his ribs, sits on every crevice of his sternum, sinks its teeth into his flesh. He’s terrified even though he doesn’t show it: he can’t. He can’t. “You’re not even a little bit worried?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you can’t act like you don’t care when you care more than anyone.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what was London?” The protesters. “São Paulo?” The earthquake. “Vancouver?” Freezing cold water.

“Look, I care if Stark’s gonna run us over trying to find her. I care enough because she’s part of our team. Come off it, Steve. I know she can take care of herself. I’m gonna take a nap. Dr. Cho said no partying post-Singapore and what do you know, we throw the biggest party ever.” Stiff to the bone, he puts on a smile. “See you in a bit, pal.”

Steve sighs, and the sound follows him like a ghost as Bucky leaves the conference room. His flesh fingers curl into a fist and his nails dig in hard enough he draws blood as he walks the halls, the paths engraved into his head. He takes the longest route to his room, tries to scatter his thoughts of the words shackled with fury.

He walks past your room on the way to his and he does not spare it a glance as he walks into his room and turns on the tap. The water runs copper and the sting bites at his palm as he tries not to think. Tries to focus on the numbing cold that runs over his skin.

Don’t worry. I won’t.

It’s all he does now—worry. It consumes his mind as he stares at his own reflection and curses the way his eyes seem to shimmer from cold predator to docile prey. They are always at war within him. It wasn’t until he met you that he realized it was okay to be both.

.

The first time Bucky meets you, he is unkempt, exhausted, and probably smells of old laundry. Black moons are printed underneath his eyes and he doesn’t remember what the light looks like as he stares blankly at the wall, at the curtains drawn over windows. He hasn’t eaten in the past few days and neither has he spoken. He’s tossed and turned on his bed, his mind still hyper fixated, his blood still congealed in his veins. He’s too exhausted to get out of a room he’s been stuck in for the past seventy two hours.

It’s been two months since Steve brought him back here. Two months and he’s still so fucking tired.

“Buck,” said friend begins and Bucky doesn’t make a sound to give any indication he’s heard. He has a pillow shoved between his head and arm, staring at the analog clock that reads 3:29 PM. “I’m coming in, okay?” He closes his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable stream of light that’s about to blind the shit out of him and he burrows his face into the pillow. The door slides open.

He can hear Steve take in a sharp breath at the state his room’s in. There are clothes strewn everywhere and the meals that’ve been sent up are lined up on the top of his dresser, untouched, and Bucky wishes he were asleep to avoid a confrontation he knows is coming. It always happens when Steve wants him to suck it up and get out in a gentle way, but this time, Bucky can’t scrub off the blood on his hands long enough to enjoy the fact that he’s alive.

Nah. All he can remember is every bullet fired, every news headline, every pair of eyes that have ever looked at him like he’s a monster. Beast. Feral.

“You gotta get up, Buck. Pull yourself outta this slump.”

“I don’t want to.” His voice is foreign, a terrible, growling thing that pushes out of his throat uncomfortably. “I’m tired.”

“Tony’s sister’s back from Somalia, and he went to the airport to pick her up.” Steve continues, walking around the room to clean up. He begins to fold clothes and throw dirty ones into the basket in the corner of his room before walking into the bathroom. Turning on the lights, he starts rooting around for something. “Gotta make a good first impression.”

“Why should I care?” He rolls over away from the light as Steve flushes the toilet and turns on the vent. It smells musty, the air thick with not enough oxygen and too much old. Bucky lifts his head from his pillow, squinting against the pale light of his bathroom.

“Because Tony loves his sister more than life itself and she’s great. You’re gonna like her.”

“If she’s anything like Stark, I doubt it,” he grumbles, letting his face fall back to the pillow for two more seconds before rolling onto the edge of the bed and sitting up. His head spins and black dots impede his vision as he rubs at his eyes blearily. Blood rushes down his body and he lets out a groan when his muscles stretch in his back.

“That’s the spirit, Buck,” Steve says. Bucky gets up on unsteady legs, his feet strangely stiff against the floor. “We’ve got some leftovers from lunch that you can have but first just get a bit cleaned up. Wash your face, brush your teeth. Promise you’ll feel a lot better.” Bucky’s lips twitch into an almost-smile but it fades just as soon as he realizes he has to look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom.

“Yeah.”

Steve nods, heading for the door. “I’ll heat up those leftovers.”

“Thanks.”

As a parting gift, Steve sets the lights in the room on a dim setting just for him. Bucky lumbers over to the bathroom and switches on the shower, the hiss of the water running white noise for his aching head. When he steps in, he just stands under the pelting hot rain, letting it wash away the oil in his head, the feeling of wearing someone else’s skin melting just a fraction.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he does figure making a first impression is key.

He runs his fingers through his hair, scrubs the smell of sleep off his skin, and trims his beard until he’s happy enough with how it looks before changing into new clothes. He almost feels like new as he leaves his room. He tucks his hair behind his ears, walking mindlessly, just enjoying the languid stretch and bunch of his muscles.

Eventually he makes it to the kitchen, sliding into one of the stools on the island. Steve’s just taking some glass container out of the microwave when he spots his best friend.

“Hey. Spaghetti and meatballs.” Sliding it over to Bucky, he also hands over a fork and Bucky stabs at the spaghetti. His stomach rumbles at the smell and thought of eating, but he still doesn’t feel hungry enough. He feels weak. Tired. He wants to go back to bed but he also wants to stay out in the sun for a few hours more. The sun kisses his skin through the windows and he squints against the blue sky, wondering.

“Thanks.” Turning his gaze back to the leftovers, he twirls a fork into the spaghetti just as the sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y. overhead catches their attention. He looks to Steve who’s drying a mug with a towel and he shrugs. Bringing a bite into his mouth, Bucky swallows with a relieved sigh as Steve sets down the cup and towel, heading out of the kitchen to meet their visitor.

Biting into a meatball, Bucky feels something uneasy in him coil around him tight. He knows he’s in no shape to meet new people but he’s not going to be rude about it. Practicing a smile, it feels awkward on his lips but he can’t do a thing about it as he tries to think of what to say. He knows about you from what he’s heard Stark say about you and his own digging on his teammates. You have your own Wikipedia page and everything, just like your brother, and he knows it’s an extensive article.

Just be polite. Be yourself. A voice inside him is telling him things he should know but instead, another thought whispers, But what is ‘yourself’? You barely know who you are.

“I’m tired. Guess that’s to be expected but it’s fine.” He hears you before he sees you. Bucky pretends to be as casual as he can as he listens to the four sets of footsteps approach the kitchen. He ducks his head, focusing on the spaghetti and trying to fill up his stomach to stop the uncomfortable growl that’s rumbling inside. “It’s good to see you.”

“A year is too long,” he can hear Steve say and he arches an eyebrow. Miss her that much? Bucky doesn’t want to think about it. He’s only been back two months, and it’s already hard readjusting to his own new life, not to mention Steve’s new one too. “Let me help you with your bags.”

“Thanks. Is Jenny around?”

“Girl misses you.” Stark. “It’s been hard without her sponsor, but we’ve, or more I, kept her on track. God, is this what it’s like to raise a teenage daughter?”

Sponsor. Huh.

“It’s what it’s like to sponsor a teenager who thinks she knows everything, so you’ll have half the challenge.”

“Oh, great. Hopefully, they’ll be more like Pepper.”

“I’m hoping for that, too.” Ms. Potts is here, too. Bucky pauses to listen for the telltale clicks of her heels, and when he does, he resumes eating. He’s seen her once or twice, and it’d been made clear she wouldn’t judge him for his state when she’s seen everything with Tony. That eases some of the burden from his shoulders.

“Thank you, guys. I hate leaving her here alone.”

“She’s a strong kid, Y/N,” Steve says. “Just like you.”

“Don’t suck up to my sister, Rogers. She’s been back for all of two minutes.”

Agreed. If she’s so great, just plant a kiss on her, Steve. God knows you’re the better of us now.

He raises his head just in time to see Steve enter with bags hoisted on his shoulders and a giant smile on his face. Following after is Stark in a pristine suit, not a crease in sight, and the man gives him a quick inspection before he pulls off his sunglasses and folds them, slipping them into his breast coat pocket.

“You want something to eat, G.I. Jane?” Stark asks, pulling aside and that’s when Bucky finally sets his eyes on you. His back goes stiff as he straightens up and Steve barely hides his smile as he sets down your bags. You stand there, holding on to Pepper Potts’ arm when the smile on your face fades as soon as their eyes meet. His eyes rake over your face and your body—black eye, split lip, no sleep, field uniform. They must’ve just pulled you out and by the way you try not to heavily lean onto the woman beside you, it’s medical related. Still, there’s a glint to your eye, a hunger, and he’s not blind enough to not realize you aren’t one of the most attractive people he’s ever seen.

“I’m good,” you reply, your voice no longer as light as it was. Instead, it sounds masked, fake, and Bucky nearly frowns before forcing a smile onto his face. You sound like your brother, and if Bucky wasn’t just as good at lying to oneself as you think you are, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed. It’s like you’ve donned on a façade, a personality the media loves to eat up. He can read it in the eyes. It hasn’t seemed that way but the few times he’s been out with the rest of them, he’s seen the effortless switch Stark can make between Tony Stark and just Tony. “Uh, care to introduce me?”

Right. He’s forgetting himself.

Bucky slides off the kitchen stool, quite sure that there’s no spaghetti sauce on his lip, and you soak in his haggard appearance, an appearance you seem to mirror.

“Hi,” he says, sticking out a hand but you only look at him, unimpressed. His fake smile falters but he still keeps on despite how uncomfortable this situation is getting. “I’m Bucky.”

“Oh, right.” Your voice is flat, uninterested, cold, as you stare at him. “You killed my parents.”

Shit.

“Right, anyway,” Pepper cuts in before Tony, Steve, or Bucky can say anything. “We should be going to bring her to her room. Tony, would you…” The CEO nudges her head in the way of you and he perks up, sliding into his wife’s place and looping an arm through yours. The two leave the kitchen, heads bowed together and Pepper grabs the bags.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says, eyes focused on Bucky. “It’s been a hard year, and—”

“It’s fine,” Bucky murmurs, turning to sit back down. His stomach growls and he grabs the fork, stabbing a meatball.

“Well, I’m glad to see you, Mr. Barnes,” Pepper adds softly, and she sends a smile his way before hoisting the bags up. “See you later, Steve.”

“Yeah.”

The woman leaves, and Bucky swallows, the lump of meat sitting like rocks in his gut.

“She hates me,” he says flatly and Steve looks at him with a gentle smile—a smile he doesn’t deserve.

“She holds grudges. She’s like Tony that way and he forgave you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Bucky sighs, looking down at his spaghetti just as Steve comes around the kitchen island, claps him on the back. “But I don’t think she’s like Tony.”

“Eat up. She’ll come around.”

.

You didn’t come around. Bucky thinks you never did as he leaves his room and stares at the one just across, to the left of his. How often has he tread the few steps needed to cross the hall and walk into that room often full of music or the sounds of frustrated yells?

Your room is quiet, still as the dead.

You never slept there unless it was mission-related and you needed some sleep, or Bucky really pissed you off. Sometimes it was both.

Pressing his flesh hand against the metal door, he clenches his jaw before letting it slide open with a soft swish. The absent smell of clean laundry and your perfume lingers in the air and he walks in, trying to find any difference between now and the last time he was here.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., when was the last time she was here?” he asks aloud.

“Four days ago. The last recorded entry was just before her disappearance but she has asked me to delete all footage concerning her on that night.”

“But you kept it?”

“Mr. Stark implemented a protocol Ms. Stark is unaware of. Should I make a rational call and believe that she is in danger, I am programmed to save any and all evidence that could be vital in securing her.”

“Then why haven’t you brought this to Tony?”

“Ms. Stark has coded in her own loophole in my program that Mr. Stark is unaware of. It prevents me from releasing any information that may compromise Ms. Stark and any of her activities she would rather keep secret. Like you, for example. Because I am unaware of her motives, I am caught in a bind between my two protocols.”

“Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Bucky shakes his head, heading into your bathroom and turning on the lights. All of your skincare and soaps are still there, your toothbrush untouched, and there’s a towel still hanging on the rack. Your first-aid kit is still on the counter by the sink, not clasped shut. Nothing here. Backing out, he switches off the lights and crosses his arms over his chest, frowning deeply.

“Did she take anything?” He spins around, eyes passing over your dresser, your closet. “Clothes, makeup, anything?” Walking by your made bed, he catches sight of your workbench and approaches it.

His hands brush over the screen surface and it lights up at the swipe of his fingers. The text lights up along with a login and password and he frowns thoughtfully, pressing a hand against the screen. A line scans his palm and fingers, and his eyebrows rise when it gives him access.

WELCOME BUCKY BARNES

“Run surveillance.”

The screen burns into his corneas as the feed runs and he leans over, watching as you enter the room. You’re still in that tight dress you wore to the party and you’re stuffing clothes into your bag with no rhythm or reason as you root through your dresser, through your closet. Your head isn’t turned to the camera but by the way you’re constantly wiping at your face, he wonders if you’re crying.

The timestamp tells him you took one of your suits home and he swallows when you finally zip up your bags, glancing around to see if you’ve missed something only you know you’re looking for. When you’re satisfied, you rush to the table Bucky stands at now and brings up a file, a keyboard spreading across the surface.

“What is she doing?”

“Analyzing now.”

You want me to find you, right? he wonders to himself. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, of why, and how, and I’m sorry, and he’s starting to feel sick as you plug something into the bottom of your workbench.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. makes a soft hum as she reruns the clip.

“A USB was inserted.”

“What was on it?” Automatically, his hand mimics yours and brushes against a slick black thing. Crouching, he spots the USB plugged in, blended into the metal of your workbench. Your initials are carved into the butt, jagged and so you.

“Scanning.”

Standing up again, he enlarges the surveillance feed. He looks down at your interface, at the suit designs you have saved in your files and mission reports you’ve yet to file. Steve was always on your ass about that before his eyes pass over to the feed again. It’s magnetic the way his eyes follow your movements, the dance of your fingers over an interface.

“It’s a collection of surveillance clips strung together. It appears Ms. Stark had a stalker.” The A.I.’s voice weaves into his ears as another voice streams through the workbench and Bucky frowns when a clip plays just as it does in the video.

“Can you play what she’s watching?”

The clip cuts to another and he looks at the time stamp and location. Three hours earlier.

Miami.

Shit. Bucky closes his eyes. He knows what this is. The audio continues to run and he pushes back, stung. He hears the sound of the slamming door and prays it’s the slam of the door when you walked away from him.

He is not so lucky.

“What the fuck was that?”

He stumbles back at the sound of his voice, his legs hitting the mattress. Bucky falls back, sinking into the bed, sucking in a huge breath as he stares up at your ceiling. You used to project stars onto the ceiling because it made your world so much bigger. He remembers, before everything got so fucking complicated, AKA the past week, he would spend hours next to you, pointing out constellations after he’d fucked you into the mattress.

How much simpler it was, then.

“What? You mean the reason I’m throwing a party in the first place?”

“Yeah. Yeah, the reason you’re throwing a party. This is what it’s for? Not because we just pulled off the fucking impossible?”

Your incredulous laugh: bitter, cold. “I’m allowed to choose I don’t want to do this anymore, Barnes. I’m allowed to fuck someone who isn’t you.”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“Isn’t it? That guy had his hands all over me and you couldn’t help but look like you wanted to punch his lights out. You just happened to want to talk to me the instant we started dancing. Just a coincidence, huh?”

“He is bad news.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do! It’s what you do when you’re sad. You latch onto people you think can give you the same high. It’s not healthy, robin.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are trying to control me? My fucking dad? Newsflash, you’re the guy who killed him and newsflash, he didn’t give two shits about who I really was. You think he saw me and thought I was a person? Fucking saw me as more than his perfect little charity case?”

“Y/N—”

“You have some fucking nerve thinking you have any say in what I decide to do with what life I have left. I’ve spent ten years trying to protect innocent people, and keep this together, but I can’t. I am miserable! I am so alone.” The cry in your voice splits Bucky in two as it did the first time he heard you, so weak, so isolated and little. You were cracking at the seams and he watched as you held yourself together in that room, sucking in a breath. “I am so alone except when I’m with you, and you know how much I hate that? I hate you!”

“I know, robin. I’m right here. Talk to me.”

A quivering breath—Bucky can hear your shaking through your voice as you clear your throat. “I just… I can’t, anymore. I can’t stand you. This needs to end, Barnes. I… I need to go after what I want, even if it means stepping away from this.”

“There are people who need you. I can help you—”

“I want a family. Kids, a guy who actually likes me more than my money.” He can imagine the tilt of your head, your ironic smile. His heart wilts at the thought of it. “Can you help me find a guy like that?” Pause. Your chuckle rings bitter. “Knew I wouldn’t be able to find it here.”

“So, this isn’t enough for you.”

Crackle. The audio cuts so quietly that Bucky almost thinks the footage has shorted but then he hears your voice, and he knows it’s not over. He can still replay the scene line by line, block by block in his head: straight out of a fucking movie.

“It isn’t.”

“Then, what was Singapore?” Quiet, remorseful, Bucky has never sounded so pitiful. It had been surprising in the moment, but now he only feels the wave of sorrow that slowly fills his lungs.

A moment, three beats of the heart. Bucky can almost imagine your brain turning in that small pause when everything inside his chest collapsed at the revelation that showed itself so clearly. And grief morphs into rage, if it is given the right rot to sink into.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re lying, because I know you, Y/N. I do know you, and you know me. You know I’m not afraid of you. You want a family? You got one right here.”

“Well, I don’t want this one.”

Ragged breathing. He swore he could hear I don’t want you bouncing off the walls.

Bucky wants to knock himself out to stop himself from hearing this torture, from reliving all the regret that comes down on him in waves but he can’t. He loves the pain that comes with you, the difficulty of knowing you. It has made his every day a welcomed challenge ever since he met you.

“Then what kinda family do you want, huh? Picket fence, apple pie on the weekends?” There is no answer. “Are you so incapable of recognizing what you want that you’ll jump into bed with any guy who shows the slightest bit of decency towards you? Because then you’re just setting yourself up for more hurt when you realize that you are not going to be happy with him.”

“I slept with you, didn’t I?”

In hindsight, Bucky knows it stings more than it did the first time around.

“And you hate me. And you’ll hate whoever you love who isn’t someone like us because he won’t understand the way you want him to. He will never understand you. You’ll hate yourself because you can’t love him the way you want to, the way he will love you, and you don’t deserve your own hate. You deserve better than that.”

“You have no idea what I deserve.”

He has a crystal clear idea of what you deserve. It is more than the world has to offer, it is more than he can ever give you.

“No.” Finality. The swing of a guillotine. Within moments, everything had fractured between you two. “I guess I don’t. I have no idea who you are, or your problems, or anything about your life. I don’t know you at all, so why not let me be honest since we’re complete strangers?” The sarcasm is dripping from his voice and you let out a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh, for the love of—”

“You‘re so terrified of opening yourself up again that the next time a guy hurts you, you’re afraid you’re not gonna make it. But you think you’re so riddled with problems that no one will ever love you. You’re so convinced that you’re unlovable.” Recording-Bucky pauses, watching your reaction. “Even though it’s not true.

“Yes, it is.”

“I don’t want to tell you for the billionth time that any guy would be lucky to have even a scrap of your attention, robin. I don’t want to keep telling you when you don’t even try to believe it. So, tell me, how are you gonna find your ‘dream man’ if you think you’re unlovable? Is he just gonna fly into your lap like a fucking angel? Do you even know what you’re looking for?” He waits, then: “I thought so.”

You exhale sharply, and it’s bitter against the roof of his mouth as delicate, fake niceties wave their way into your words. “You know what? I’ll figure it out without you, and I didn’t throw a party to be attacked by the one person who’s supposed to have my back. You don’t have to be happy for me, but you could’ve at least sucked it up and held yourself back from ruining my night. I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. Good luck with your new partner, Barnes.”

Fading clicks of heels that stop at his words.

“Oh, so now you’re walking away because I’m right?”

“Oh, no, I’m not walking away from your incessant need to be right. I’m walking away from you.” There is a moment of silence, as if to grieve what has come to pass, and when you speak again, you’re so incredibly sad that Bucky’s heart is in shambles in his chest. His lungs weep, his ribs ache, and he rolls onto his side, eyes closed as he lets the sound of words he still remembers wash over him. “You’re ridiculous. You know that right?” You laugh again, except it’s colder, more incredulous and shackled with sadness. He wishes he didn’t know you so well. “You’re fucking transparent.”

Echoing footsteps.

“If you walk away now, don’t bother coming back!”

Silence. Bucky can hear his own strained breathing, your soft sigh as you soaked in his ultimatum.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The door slams shut.

Bucky tells F.R.I.D.A.Y. to shut off the workbench and simply lays there on your bed for he doesn’t know how long.

He thinks he will simply shatter should he put his foot on the ground again.

.

You're cold, arrogant, and smarter than almost everyone in the room and you know it. You own it, and if Bucky didn’t hate that kind of person who thinks she’s better than anyone just because she’s rich, he’d admire both you and your beauty.

But you are rich, and entitled, and absolutely, in some way or another, the worst. You’re worse than your brother, spiteful, and quick to anger, but that might be because you hate Bucky in particular. That’s fine. Bucky doesn’t particularly have an inclination to be your friend either. In fact, he’d rather you stay away to avoid any clashes that have barely been prevented by your off-hand comment of him not being worth the energy and his talent for ignoring you despite how you get his blood boiling.

Unfortunately, your room is right across the hall from his, and what he gets out of you is a passing glance full of spite every morning to really start his day. Sometimes, he sees you and you’re on the phone or in the gym, running drills with Tony in the air, or just flat out ignoring him, but most of the time, you’re not even at the compound, and Bucky prefers this the most.

He supposes passive loathing is better than you, with your unlimited resources, actively trying to ruin his life. He can’t help but match your level of dislike when you blast music in the mornings and your rain noises at night.

He’s woken up to your music to shout at you to turn it down every day you’ve raised it above a decent limit, but you simply ignore him, close the door on his face, and emerge thirty minutes later for your morning jog.

Bucky can’t go back to sleep after, so he has no choice but to socialize with whoever’s awake at six in the morning who turn out to be Steve and Sam Wilson. He joins their gym competition, welcomes the stretch and pull of muscles in the early hours to wake himself up despite how hard it is to get his body to pull itself out of bed. Steve likes that he’s out of his room more often, anyway, so he supposes he should be grateful for small blessings, even if he doesn’t show it.

Whenever Steve brings it up, Bucky shoots back he can’t go back to his room because there is no existence of peace or quiet.

It’s on one such a morning that he’s standing outside, listening to the beginnings of some seventies jam pound through the walls, that he reminds himself of this fact.

“Open up, Stark!” he yells, telling himself if you don’t answer, he’s gonna pound that door down. “I’m not gonna ask again.” Something shuffles inside and he frowns, leaning in closer to try to listen in on the muffled voices before it swings open and he jerks back, face settling in a scowl his muscles are trained to do every time he sees you.

“What?” Your voice is sharper than the sharpest blade as you glower at him and the sight of you burns itself into its irises. He knows you’re put together. That’s the mask you like to put up—you’re a Stark, you have to be. Rarely has he ever seen your brother a mess around people he doesn’t know, but now you appear before him. You’re pale, in the clothes he’d seen you wear the night before, and everything about you reminds him of something fading away as you wait for him to speak.

“Are you alright?” he asks stiffly, and you merely stare at him blankly for a moment as if you were going to answer truthfully before the sound of someone throwing up catches both of their attention. Turning around, you disappear into your room, and Bucky stands outside awkwardly, waiting. The music is still blasting but he realizes it’s one he recognizes. Trouble Man of a soundtrack of the same name. Sam always recommends it to him whenever he mentions something even remotely related to music.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Come on, just get it out.” The sound of your voice, smooth and warm, draws him in and he tentatively walks into your room, eyes scanning his surroundings. Another bout of retching draws him to the bathroom where he sees a pair of legs sprawled over the tile. You hold a girl by her arm, the other scooping her hair behind her head.

“Glad to hear you’ve begun to wake at a decent hour, Barnes,” you comment without turning your head away from the girl hunched over your toilet seat. Finally, she pulls back and collapses against you, and you grab at a rag above your head hanging on the countertop and pat at her forehead. “Get her into bed.”

“No…” the girl moans, legs curling underneath her as she pulls into a ball. Bucky’s eyes widen. She looks so small. “Don’t wanna move.”

“It’s alright, darling. He’s gonna carry you.” Your eyes find his again and he walks in, crouching by her waist. “On three.” Bucky’s hands scoop underneath her knees and the other goes underneath her back as you grab the trashcan and stack of towels.

“One, two, three.” With a gentle yet hasty lift, the girl is hoisted into the air and transported onto the bed. Bucky backs up as soon as she’s down and you rush in beside him. You begin to tuck her into bed, your movements practiced, and Bucky is struck with the realization.

“This is Jenny,” he breathes, and you turn to him, eyes narrowed. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get a basin, fill it with cold water, and more trash bags.” Nodding, he turns back to the bathroom, opening the cabinet beneath the sink to pull out a plastic basin. “Fuck, Jen. It’s okay, let it all out.” Over the stream of water, he pricks his ear to the sound of a sob-wrecked voice.

“‘M sorry, Y/N. Just wanted to feel better.”

“I know.”

“It was so hard.”

“I know. Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you came to me, okay?” Turning off the sink, he walks back to the bed and sets the basin by your feet before procuring some trash bags and setting them by the trash can as well. You’re leaned over, dotting the girl’s brow as he takes the moment to look around your room. It’s messy, a mess of clothes and bags strewn everywhere, books on tables, forgotten cups, but it’s organized. He can see it. “Get some sleep, okay? You’re gonna feel pretty fucking shitty over the next few weeks.”

“I know.” Bucky’s gaze drags back to you as you pull back on your heels, standing up straight. Your eyebrows are drawn together still as you pull the covers up to the girl’s chin. Wiping at your own forehead with the back of your hand, you nearly back up into him and he holds out his hands to prevent you from bumping into him.

The instant his fingers make contact with your back, you whip around like a startled deer.

“You,” you breathe, sounding strangely spooked and he backs up, hands where you can see them. You swallow and the fear in your eyes washes away when you blink. Clearing your throat, you try to make yourself seem more presentable with a swipe of hair out of your face, a clearing of your throat, but he doesn’t know why it matters.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asks with a quick glance at Jenny who’s slipped away already. You brush past him, turning down the music from your phone, plucking a hoodie from a hook on the wall and jerking your head for him to follow.

“She’ll be fine.” Opening the door, you lean against the wall outside as Bucky steps into the pale, luminescent lights. It’s much cooler outside, the blue making the metal look cold as you pull on the hoodie and cross your arms over your chest.

You’re wearing an AC/DC hoodie, and Bucky counts himself lucky he hasn’t woken up to that yet. He gets enough from Stark blasting it as they take the quinjet on missions.

“Close the door a bit,” you say, but everything that comes out of your mouth sounds like an order. Still, Bucky complies before looking at you blankly. He’s come to expect nothing but hostility from you, and instead, you look almost relieved. “Don’t tell Tony why I brought her here. She texted me last night in the city and I had to pick her up.”

“I thought she was getting better,” Bucky says and you scowl. He knows you don’t like what he’s implying but he keeps his tone cool, even. “Stark took care of her the year you were gone, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but she was lying.”

“To Iron Man?” It takes guts, and a whole lotta skill. Bucky narrows his eyes at you, but you stand upright, unafraid to stare back. Normally, a passing glance causes recruits to scatter, but you merely let the cold slide off of you. “What kinda kid does that?”

“She’s an addict. Addicts are good at lying, Barnes, for whatever reason they have.” You fiddle with your phone in your hand before uncrossing your arms and looking at the screen. “Fuck. It’s seven, already?”

“Miss your morning jog?” he retorts half-heartedly, and you shoot him a glare, pocketing the device and brushing past him.

“Yeah, actually. I had more important things to worry about.” Letting the door click shut behind you, he listens to you shuffle around inside your room, presumably cleaning up and goes back into his room with a slam.

At lunch, you come down to grab an extra bowl of stew for Jenny and Bucky offers to make up your run with one together in the evening as he hands you a bowl he’s ladled with extra beef and carrots. You tell him you’re busy and brush him off without a second look back.

“And Jenny?” he asks lowly, but you merely shoot him a look that tells him to shut up.

“I can take care of her myself,” you growl softly, snatching the bowl and disappearing through the doorway. Tony makes a comment about grudges, Steve doesn’t say a word.

Before he heads to bed, Bucky hears you whispering tired phrases over the sound of Jenny throwing up again and lets himself in. You’re in too big clothes that nearly swallow your frame and you’re exhausted as you run a hand down Jenny’s back who dry heaves until she collapses against the tub. You reek of coffee and Bucky wrinkles his nose at the smell of acid and regurgitated beef stew, watching your limp hand flush the toilet.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” he asks, and you glance up, eyes barely open. Lips curving down, you shake your head and fight to stay awake as Jenny curls into a ball against the tile. Your arms are propped up on your knees and your head dips as you let out a sigh.

“Get out,” you whisper. Bucky frowns, soaking in your words before stepping inside. He ignores your stink eye as he scoops up Jenny again, bringing her to your bed, and he lays her down, pulling the covers to her chin. A stale glass of water and an empty bowl lay on the bed stand while his foot kicks into the first aid kid tucked underneath the bed.

Turning to the bathroom, his feet barely make a sound against the floor as he spots you frozen in your spot, head dipped.

Bucky doesn’t need to be a super soldier to know you’re fast asleep. Crouching, he listens to your steady breathing, the soft mumbles under your breath and he gently pokes your arm.

“Wake up,” he whispers and you jolt awake, your back ramming hard against the cupboard with a painful gasp. Your leg jerks back, your knee to your chest and he flinches back, hands raised just as your foot collides with his solar plexus. The air pushed out of his lungs, he slams back into the tub with a painful slam, and he sucks in a huge breath, clutching his chest. “Fuck—”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Your breathing is jagged, your chest heaving. Within your eyes, he sees something wild flare behind your irises and he sinks into the floor, slouched against the tub.

“Okay,” he replies, quiet. He doesn’t want to wake Jenny up and the only sound is your desperate breaths, your hiccuping sighs. Your eyes are still wild, and you stare at him with an open fear he has not seen ever reside in your gaze. “Y/N—”

“Get out,” you whisper harshly between your teeth. He can tell it takes all your courage not to scream, your whole body taut with the urge to run. He stands up slowly, hands open so you can see his every movement. “Get out.”

“I’m going.” Leaving the room slowly, he feels your stare burn into your back and there’s a clatter of something against the floor tile. The sound of whales humming ushers him out and the door slams shut behind him as soon as he’s out the door. There’s a ravenous hole inside him, devouring him in bit by bit the longer he stands outside your door, and his judgement gets the better of him as he turns around with the deepest sigh.

Pressing his ear against the door, he closes his eyes and tries to listen past the whale crooning but he can’t. Besides, it settles on his skin uneasily—a thick coat of oil and discomfort that traps him in. He returns back to his room and doesn’t sleep right away as he usually does.

He’s breaking habits around you, whether he likes it or not. Pulling out a notebook Steve bought for him a few days after he found him, he picks a pen from his small collection, and begins to write.

.

“You haven’t seen her?” Bucky asks, running a hand through his hair. On the other end of the phone, Jenny makes a small noise that tells him no.

“Not since the last meeting. She was fine, but she looked tired. That’s all.” Flipping over the sleek USB in his hand, Bucky runs a thumb along your initials and sighs. “You… you don’t think—”

“If she went off the tracks, there would’ve been warning signs,” he assures her quietly. “We know that. No McDonald’s, no spending spree, no random gifts.” Leaning against the rails of the compound, he looks at the crowd of news reporters outside. Tony has a press conference in half an hour.

It’s been two days since the Avengers social media accounts released a statement regarding a mission you’ve gone off to. It’ll buy them time without anyone expecting you, but as always, the media is questioning what mission, where, why, how. They want all the details.

“Completely off the grid operation,” Steve had offered. Tony agreed for lack of a better idea. The man was out of his mind, eye bags Bucky had seen frequently drag at your eyes brushing his face.

“Did she ever tell you anything about a stalker?” He dips his chin to look at his cleaned boots. There’s still a mud scuff on the toe from his walk through the woods earlier to clear his head of you, but it’s nothing a few swipes with a towel can’t fix.

“No, why?” Jenny’s voice twinges and Bucky sighs again. He doesn’t have enough energy to breathe these days when it’s all spent on trying to find clues of what you’ve left behind. “At the last AA meeting, she talked about Afghanistan. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her talk about it around a bunch of people she doesn’t know.”

“She went into detail?”

“Not too much. Just ended with what she always says.”

“‘You can’t wait for someone to fly underneath you and save your life. I think you have to save yourself.’” As Bucky quotes it, he can hear your voice saying it, cold, dead, ravaged by tears you’ve never stopped unleashing. God, it was one of your go to excuses for ignoring help even when he thought you needed it. It infuriated him—it made him respect you, anyway. “Well, she can fly alright.”

“Yeah. It was her go to thing to say whenever I wallowed in my self-pity, and decided enough was enough. I always thought she was the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“You probably know far worse,” Bucky replies distantly. You know me. “But she did something right. You’re okay, now.”

“I only wish I could’ve helped her somehow,” she says. “Since the day I met her… hah, she was an angry person, Bucky. And lonely, and sad. And she never counted on anyone. Never asked for a thing for herself. Never trusted anyone except herself.” For a moment, Jenny doesn’t say anything despite him knowing she has something on her tongue. Bucky’s flesh hand wraps around the pole, feeling it cool against his hot palm. “That changed when she met you.”

Liked. Was. As if you are dead and he has failed you. As if they’ve ripped off every tooth and claw off of you, drained you of your spirit that has shattered and mended too many times for him to count. As if you are missing, and he has fucked up, and his tongue is heavy in his mouth as he clears his throat and his mind.

“Mhm.”

“I know she never said it, but she did. She trusted you.”

“Yeah, well,” he breathes with a shrug, twisting so he faced the railing. The coil inside of him pulls tighter, “we’ll figure that out after we find out.”

“She talked about her death so often, I feel like it’s real this time. Like she’s really missing and she doesn’t want to be found,” comes the hushed reply. “I don’t want to give up, Bucky, but—”

“I know.”

“Call me if you find anything,” Jenny orders, sounding a lot like you. Bucky agrees, lifeless. As if he wouldn’t.

“I’d feel better if you stayed at the compound.”

“Maybe I’ll come over later tonight. I’m gonna go watch the press junket, see what Tony says, and then go to class. Keep my mind off of it, and the possibilities.”

“Okay. Stay safe, and call me. I’m still here for you.” Jenny hangs up and Bucky groans, tilting his head back and bracing himself against the rail. You are much better at handling her than he is. Always was.

“Hard night?” He cranes his neck to see Natasha walking up to him in a pencil skirt and dress jacket. Huh. Black Widow all dressed up and no place to go.

“Harder day. You going to the junket?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at her outfit and she smiles but there’s nothing to it. He figures. Natasha loved you like a sister. Loved. He needs to not pick up the habit of talking about you like you’re dead. You aren’t.

He would’ve felt it if you were. He knows it.

“Yeah. Tony needs the support, and I’ll be there in case he needs me to take over. He’s losing his mind over this. You?”

“No. Stark’s good at playing the press and he doesn’t need me there when I’m pretty sure he hates me,” Bucky says and Natasha’s smile shrinks, leaning in beside him. “I’m always fucking his family over.” His poor attempt at a joke makes her chuckle wryly, the sound coming out choked and wet. “You okay, Nat?”

“I know we’re trying to be positive here, but… she said someone was following her. I told her it was crazy. That no one would fucking snatch her when we’re there, but…” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closes her eyes and trails of tears race down her cheeks. “She was so worried about something else that I said I’d keep an eye out for her. If someone did catch her… and that’s why… I fucked up, James.” Her eyes meet his again, wide with fear, open to the softest spots of her. It’s rare and it alarms Bucky to no end. If Natasha’s scared, there’s a reason to be fucking terrified.

“We all did,” he murmurs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You should probably head down there before they kill you.”

“Ah, yeah. Give me a sec.”

“Okay.” Bucky turns and leans back onto the railing again, letting a gentle silence rest over the two trained killers. He doesn’t say anything when Natasha lets out a soft, shuddering breath and wipes at her face with a tissue from a pack in her pocket. In turn, she offers him one. He declines. Natasha shrugs and wipes away smears of makeup that she somehow knows are there. Bucky never understood the magic of it all—you and Nat had such a talent for seeming so put together it made you both impossible to read.

Bucky likes to think he’s gotten better at it over the past two years, for the both of them.

His throat aches as he blinks, and the stinging in his eyes eases as he sucks in a cold breath. The heel of his flesh hand rubs at his face angrily, swiping away his grief and Natasha pretends not to see it, putting away her pack.

“She’s missing. I know she is,” Natasha says with dreadful confidence. “But I also know she doesn’t want you to give up on her, you know? She liked you more than anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what people keep telling me,” he snaps, voice rough, grating. She doesn’t want you to give up, some part of his head notes, not doesn’t want ‘us’. Bucky’s gaze meets Natasha’s, and the woman merely smiles softly. She knows he’s caught her. “Funny way of showing it.”

“You know she didn’t hate you,” Nat whispers, a hand on his forearm. Bucky shakes his head, hair curtaining him away from his old student. “You know you didn’t hate her. It isn’t too late to make things right.” A pressure crushes him from the center of his head, a world placed between his shoulders as he struggles to hold up this façade you can wear for months on end.

He doesn’t hate you.

“It’d be much easier if I knew she was dead already. I know how to make peace with ghosts.”

It’d be much easier if he did.

Natasha’s mouth curls into a wry smile. “As if she’d ever make peace with you.”

.

The only time Bucky really is forced to spend time with you is when they run drills, and Bucky likes to think he works well with you if you can hold your tongue for more than two seconds. You’re a snarky little thing who can warn him not to bring up Jenny again with just a single glance and convey your intent to target with just the twitch of your lip. Then again, you’re easy to read on the battlefield. You make your objectives clear.

His knuckles ache wonderfully and he can hear a solid kick land a few ways off. Turning, he watches as you twist to launch a powerful sidekick at a dummy, letting it fly a few feet away before going to grab it.

“Where were you stationed?” he asks wearily as you wipe the sweat off your brow. Half of him yells for even approaching the beast, but he’s not afraid of you. You just piss him off so easily and by your arched brow in surprise that he’s talking to you, you know it. A call over the PA warns them of supper, and Bucky sighs, wiping at sweat with the back of his hand.

His muscle shirt is slick with the evidence of his labour as he hoists the dummies up to carry them back into the warehouse a little ways off. You pick up your own dummy and walk after him. “Before Somalia, I mean?” How did you get your own set of problems, he asks quietly to himself, because they don’t just start overnight and you don’t get help like everyone else. What is it with you? Pride?

“Former navy. Cryptologic linguist, two tours, then Afghanistan. I’m head of the Stark Relief Foundation, so I was touring with my brother at his insistence,” you say flatly. “It went wrong. That’s it.”

He stops along the track, meeting your eyes. You skid to a halt beside him. “Kidnapped?” Like your brother?

Your eyes are piercing but he doesn’t falter. He can tell no one really speaks your mind around you so when your eyes command him to shut up, he doesn’t. It might be pushing you a bit, but he has a feeling no one asks. Maybe they’re too afraid of you like you’re some princess, but he doesn’t care.

Bucky’s never met a princess quite like you before.

“None of your business,” you correct. He scoffs, rolls his eyes and meets your eyes again.

“You got a therapist?”

“Oh, you know what?” You put on a sickly sweet smile, dumping your dummy at his feet. “Put it away for me, won’t you, sarge?” The thing bounces against his shins, and the beginnings of his own smirk drop off his face as you begin to walk away.

“I don’t work for you, Stark. Clean up after yourself.”

He watches as your figure turns around, your lips turned in a mocking pout. “Oh, I do, but seeing as you’re about to become insufferable, I need to take a walk.”

“Can’t take it?”

“You’re the one with a million questions. Why don’t you figure anything out before you ask stupid questions like the paps? The internet exists for a reason.”

“I like to rely on the primary source,” he shoots back and you laugh. It sounds just as mocking as your pout looked and the sound strangles out any air in his lungs. His blood boils at your grin.

“As if the primary source is reliable. Which you should understand by the way.”

Your words work underneath his skin and his lips twist deeply into a scowl. “Thanks for the reminder. At least I’m getting help for my problems. When’s the last time you saw your therapist?”

“Don’t have one. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Really? Liar. “Who’s the one with the chip, anyway? I think that’s fucking dealing.”

Who’s the one who needs one? Bucky wants to say in kind, but he doesn’t. “You know just as well I do that it isn’t.”

“I hate you,” you tell him plainly. “You have no idea what happened or what I’ve been through and you’re making these assumptions that I need to deal with something. I don’t.”

“Does anyone really know what happened to you?” he snaps, dropping his targets to the grass.

He expects you to jut out your chin, say yes, obviously. Your whole life is plastered on social media—Instagram, Twitter, the occasional Snapchat story—that you’re a book everyone and no one knows how to read.

“No.” Your voice colder than the antifreeze in his blood and his eyebrows rise at the shimmer of doubt in your gaze. “And I don’t want to talk about it with someone like you.”

“Which is?” He keeps his tone even despite the simmering, bitter sensation that cramps up his chest and urges him to throw himself forward and scream.

“A killer—” You walk up to him, eyes unforgiving— “who thinks there’s damage in everyone just ‘cause the world fucked up with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Your eyebrows rise and fall as you shove your face into his. You’re tantalizingly close, and he frowns at the lick of fire inside his gut when you snarl, “I’m not fucking broken, Barnes. You don’t know shit about me. You don’t need to psychoanalyze me and try to figure out what’s wrong with the rich girl.”

“Something's always wrong with the rich girl,” he retorts, and you laugh. It’s empty, hollow, but still, you laugh and it makes him uneasy, cornered, prey.

“Not me. My life is fucking peachy right now. Hell, I’m talking to the guy who killed my mom and somehow not strangling him despite every thought in my head telling me to wrap my hands around your throat.” You tilt your head, and a saccharine smile somehow splits your face eerily. “Guess I’m the bigger person that way.” You begin to walk away from him and Bucky opens his mouth, his throat cinched shut as he tries to calm the rage inside him. “See you around, sarge.”

He waits until you’re gone before he begins the journey to the warehouse.

He has to make a return trip for the dummy you dropped at his feet, and he’s late for supper. Steve asks why he’s late, and Bucky doesn’t miss your sly smirk as you dig into your burger.

“No reason,” he lies. “Just decided to take my time from the warehouse.”

Two can play at that game.

#fic: far from home #kas4kwc #captainkelli500fam #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #my writing

[notyetneedcoffee]

No Take Backs

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, smut below

A/N: Written for @wkemeup​ ‘s 4k Challenge. My prompt, “Do me this one favor and I promise, I’ll never ask anything else of you again.” is in bold. Thanks for letting me play!

Steve Rogers stalked through the common room of the Avengers Compound as if he were steeling himself for war. Only he was headed for his suite. You looked back at Sam, who followed more slowly. He stopped beside you, snatching a handful of popcorn from your bowl.  

“Cap okay?” You asked.  

“Says he is.” Sam frowned.  

“But you don’t buy it.” Your gaze drifted back to the hall leading to the Captain’s rooms. “Is he experiencing side effects from Banner’s treatment?”

Sam grunted. “What does Rogers say? The serum enhances everything; his power, his health, who his is. I think when he got hit with that neurotoxin, Banner was right to basically hit him with something that kicked his system into overdrive to burn it out. But personally, I think he’s feeling – I don’t know – on overdrive.”

“Hmm.” You handed Sam the bowl of popcorn. A wild idea came to mind, something akin to poking a bear with a short stick.

You knocked on Steve’s door. It took a moment for him to answer. He looked down at you leaning on the door frame. “It’s not a good time.”

“Really? I have the feeling it’s the perfect time.” You pushed by him, into his living room. He said your name in exasperation, but didn’t kick you out so you pushed on. “I’ve been watching you. I think you’re not as ‘fine’ as you claim to be.”

He crossed his arms, glaring at the wall over your shoulder. “What makes you think that?”

“Steve,” you took a step closer and tipped your head to look up at him. “You are not just strung tighter that Barton’s bow string. It’s not just your metabolism and your energy that’s effected. I think all those strong feelings you experience all time are just exploding.”  

Steve wouldn’t look at you, he stared over your shoulder. You took a half a step closer, placing you mere inches from him, but he did not back away. His body practically hummed.  

“I think there’s something driving you mad, and you’re worried if you let it out you won’t be able to pull it back in.” You watched him take a deep breath through his nose. “What is it, Steve? What are you feeling that’s got you so wound up?”

He swallowed hard. “Just go.”

“Is that what you really want?” You breathed, so close you could feel the heat radiate off him.  

“Please, go” Steve closed his eyes. “Do me this one favor and I promise, I’ll never ask anything else of you again.”

“Why, Steve?” You risked placing your hand on his chest.  

His large hand encircled your wrist, and he leaned closer. You felt his breath against your lips. “Because if you don’t, I will do things I cannot take back.”

“What, Steve?” Your free hand slid across his waist. “What do you want to do?”

His hand gripped you by the back of the neck, his nose rubbing along the side of yours. “To fuck you.” He growled. “To make you mine. I want you and I can’t contain it right now.”

“I never wanted you to contain it.” You breathed. “I want you, have since the beginning.”

With a groan, Steve’s mouth crashed into yours. His arm pulled you tight against him, his hand cradling your head. Hot and wet, his tongue battled with yours. You moaned, chest heaving, and his fingers dug into your ass, pulling you practically off your feet. Your fingers pulled at his hair.

Steve broke the kiss, swallowing hard. He pressed his forehead to yours. “You should go. I should be gentle. You deserve...god, I should go slow, cherish you.”

You lightly nipped his lower lip with your teeth. “But I want you, Steve. Want all of you, not just what you think you’re supposed to be.” He moaned, rutting the hard evidence of his need into your body, hand tightening on your ass. You licked his lip. “You can show me. I trust you. I won’t break.”

Steve studied your face intently. A wicked smile curls his lips and he suddenly let you go. Shocked, you stumbled back, only to have him catch you by the shirt. With deft hands, he pulled your shirt over your head. When you reached for him, he caught your hands and shook his head. “I want to.”

He pulled his tee off, cause you to involuntarily lick your lips. His smile widened as he reached around to unclasp your bra with one hand, filling his other with your breast as he tossed it away. Kneading, thumb and finger pinching, he drank down your moan in deep kiss. Steve trailed wet, open-mouthed  kisses down your throat until sucking hard on your nipple.

“Ah, fuck yes!” Your fingers dug into his shoulders.  

His hands pulled at your pants, yanking them down so you could kick them away. Dropping to his knees, Steve pulled you close. His hands gripped your ass, mouth running hot kisses down your belly to your mound.  

“Great ass,” He breathed deep. “So sweet.”

You squeaked when Steve suddenly rose to his feet, lifting you with him. Laying you across the table, he angled your legs apart. Spread wide, exposed, being devoured by his hungry stare, you felt yourself dripping with excitement.  

Steve buried his face between your legs, lapping, licking, sucking, with vigor. Hot tongue dipping into your cunt. Lips sucking at your clit. Feral rumbles from his chest. You back bowed off the table. So good. Heat coiled low and your thighs twitched. You cried out, “Steve!”

Two fingers slid into your soaking cunt. He stood over you, pumping against your g spot hard. You squirmed, dancing on the cusp. His other hand closed over your throat with pressure, but not choking. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room. Your eyes clamped shut.

“Look at me.” Steve commanded. He stared into your eyes, “I want to see you come. Want to see you come for me.” He squeezed just a little harder, pumped his thick fingers into your pussy a little faster. “Now.”

“Fuck!” You came apart, shaking under his hold, flood over his hand, burning.  

Steve was suddenly gone.

You lifted your head to see him kick away his jeans. His cock in hand. He ordered. “Get over here.”  

Slipping off the table and onto your knees. He held himself in front of your face. You licked the precum from the head of his cock before running your tongue along his length. You wrapped your hand around him, licking him again before taking him fully in your mouth. Your other hand ran over his thigh, slipping around to his perfect ass.  

Steve fought to keep from fucking into your mouth, though his hands wound in your hair tightly. You sucked harder, taking him deep, humming. He growled, pushing deep. “Yes!”  

You enjoyed the noises, the reactions, you pulled from him. He was magnificent. Before he got too close, Steve pulled you to your feet to kiss you hard. His hand moved from your hair to your throat again. Steve spun you around and pulled your back against his chest. The fingers of his free hand slicked over your clit. His teeth nipped at the back of your neck. Shivers ran down your spine.  

The length of his cock pressed against you, rubbing between your ass cheeks. His breath washed over your skin. Teeth biting your ear. “Going to fuck you, Sugar. Want to watch you come apart.”

“Yes,” you panted. “Please, Steve, fuck me.”  

He bent you over the table, hands sliding over your ass. His finger gathered the slickness from between your legs. “So pretty.” He rubbed his cock along your entrance. “So soft.” He pushed in with growl. “So tight.”  

“Yes!”  

His fingertips dug into your hips and he pounded into you deep. Your breath exploded from your lungs. Steve fucked you hard, fast, his hands holding you in place. Skin slapping skin. You clawed at the table, tension coiling, heat spreading.  

Steve grabbed your hair, arching your back. His other hand spread wide, just over your mound, pushing. Your nerves exploded as his cock slammed into just the right spot, made more intense by the pressure of his hand. His wet mouth locked onto the junction of your neck. Your legs shook.

“Oh, fuck, Steve!”

“Yes,” he growled. “Feels so fucking good. Come for me.”

You did, shaking hard, coming over his cock, down your thighs.  

“Yes, sugar.” Steve flipped you over, back on the table. Pulling your legs over his shoulders, he buried himself in you again. Fucking you hard, you never came down. He only pushed you higher. His thumb rubbed over your clit. You panted. Whined. Nerves caught fire.  

“I’m gonna, ah fuck, Steve,” you practically cried. “I’m gonna come again.”

“Yes!” He thrust harder, faster.

You shook, coming apart, breath leaving you. You gave a silent scream, losing all control.  

His voice grew hoarse, tight. “So pretty. Ah, fuck. Gorgeous.”  

With a few more strokes, Steve let go, growling out his release. Steve’s head fell forward, resting between your breasts. His hands slid over your thighs, gentle and warm. Your legs and arms wrapped around him as you came back to Earth.

Steve slid from you with a sigh. He gathered you in his arms, picking you up. Arms around his shoulders and face nuzzled in his neck, you dusted his skin with kisses.  

“Steve?”

“Taking you to bed.” He settled you on the sheets, curling up around you. “You were right.” He kissed your face, your lips. “Everything feels more...intense. Like I can’t contain it all. Right now, I need to hold you, take care of you.”

“Mmm, like the sound of that.”

He kissed the side of your neck. “Maybe in a bit, we can try going slow.”

You giggled.  

Steve nuzzled into you. “It’s a good thing you have more sense than I do, otherwise I was just going to go beat the hell out of a few dozen punching bags. I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you.”

“Doesn’t matter now. No take backs.”

He laughed, full and joyous.

TAGS

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #kas4kwc #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fan fic #steve rogers fanfiction

[captainscanadian]

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 4)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Your high school reunion forces you to relive the trauma of your senior year. 

Word Count: 4100+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader

Warnings: HELLA ANGST, Heartbreak, Bullying, Insecurity, Anxiety, Alcohol

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup​‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

Perhaps having a Hollywood stylist on speed dial did have its perks, for the woman who had styled you for your multiple red carpet premieres was more than happy to assist you in deciding what to wear for your high school reunion. 

Natasha Romanoff had advised you that a pair of blue jeans and a comfortable sweater could really go a long way, and you took her word for it. “Did you bring your boots with you?” She asked you as you were on Facetime. 

Rosie had informed you that the dress code was casual, so you need not to worry about having to borrow Nick’s truck in order to drive all the way to Indianapolis and hunt down a designer dress. 

But that did not mean you were keeping it simple with your outfit for the night; you wanted to make an impression, and maybe even rub it in a few of the faces that you were going to be coming across. This was your moment now. 

“You mean my black thigh-highs?” You asked her as your lips curled into a smirk, and you reached down to grab them and held them up for the camera. “Did you really think I’d leave them behind in LA when you said that I fucking sass walk when I’m wearing these?”

“That’s my girl!” She exclaimed, looking proud as ever. “Add a leather jacket over that and you’re good to go. Keep the hair and make up simple. You’re going to be getting shit-faced anyways. No need to look too pretty.” 

You gave her a nod as you chuckled softly. “You cool with me adding a Gucci belt with that? I’d like to show these fuckers that I can actually afford one.”

“Fuck, yes!” She gave you a thumbs up. “You’re going to sass walk in there, look like a million bucks and you’re going to fucking own it, you hear me?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You were certainly glad that you had a stylist who was also the best hype woman you could have ever asked for. “I’m going to fucking own it.” 

“So, now that it’s your ten year reunion… are you and Mr. Hollywood Reporter finally going to get it on?” Natasha asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I’m totally assuming that he’s going to be there, but you did go to high school together. Maybe revisiting some old memories can light some kind of spark between the two of you? He seems like a good catch, Y/N.” 

“What?” You shook your head. “No… I mean, yes. He’s going to be there. But no, we’re not ‘getting it on’ or however else you say it.” 

“Why not?!”

“Because…” You let out a sigh. “Pietro is my friend.” 

Falling in love with one of your best friends had been hard enough. You could not afford to lose another friendship the same way. 

Out of all places that your ten year reunion could have taken place, it had to be at The Country Club of Indianapolis; you did not know if you should praise Rosie Bender for securing such a venue for the event, or curse her for somehow convincing you to come here. Not that you had ever been to that country club when you had been a resident of Indiana, but it was safe to say that the place did bring back some horrible memories. 

The words ‘Connie Chapman would be there’ made so much more sense to you now, as you were well aware that the country club was owned by her father. Boy, you could never come to terms with how much you loathed Connie as a kid. Her mere existence drove you up the wall. 

Ever since you were in elementary school, it seemed as though the two of were forced to compete with each other. From the good grades to the friendships you made; she had everything you wanted. She had a father who had raised her like a fucking princess, while yours had walked out when you were just a toddler. Her birthday parties would always take place at her family’s mansion in Shelbyville, and sometimes at the country club too. You were never invited to any one of them though, not that you ever wanted to. 

She was the teacher’s pet, which was most likely a result of her father’s rather heavy donation to the school. No matter how hard you studied, grinding through every assignment by pouring your blood, sweat and tears into them, she just happened to get a better grade than you did. It was frustrating to know that no matter how hard you tried, she just happened to be five steps ahead of you. She was oozing with privilege, and that made you feel quite bitter. 

During high school, she was the captain of the cheer leading team. While she was not the nicest person you’d known back then, it did not matter at all when she looked like some Victoria’s Secret model - when Victoria’s Secret was still relevant. It seemed as though she had somehow skipped the awkward stages of puberty and became attractive without ever paying the price for it; or maybe she did pay a price. You could never tell for sure. Every boy in school would fall at her feet, which was something that certainly boosted that ego of hers. She was the most popular girl in school, and you were a complete nobody. It fucking sucked. 

Despite the fact that Connie Chapman had everything you would have wanted in life when you were a teenager, you knew that you had something that she could never have, something that you believed that no one could ever pry out of your hands. Oh how stupid had you been. She had taken him right from your cold dead hands. 

As much as you hated to admit it, this was not how you had expected your senior year of high school to be. It seemed as though everything was going to shit this year, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of this shit show that was high school. 

The year had gotten off to a not-so-great start with your best friend ditching you to hang out with his new friends from the basketball team. While you had found yourself strolling through the hallways of Shelbyville Senior High School all alone during the lunch hours, your vice principal had forced you to befriend the two new students, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. 

Sure, they were both wonderful to hang out with. But deep down, you just missed Bucky Barnes more than ever. He was your best friend, had been for as long as you could remember. You had no idea why he had stopped hanging out with you since the end of junior year, and you hadn’t even bothered to ask. Things just seemed to be out of your control nowadays, you guessed. 

“Y/N!” Wanda had called out to you as she was rushing towards your locker, a panicked expression evident in her eyes as she grabbed your arm rather roughly. “Y/N, you’re not going to believe what just happened.” 

You set the algebra textbook that you had been holding in your locker before turning towards her, grabbing your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder. “Wanda, is everything okay?”

“Bucky knows.” She told you, looking at you with wide eyes as she breathed heavily. “He came over to my lab desk during biology and… he told me that he knows.” 

Her words had hit you like a freight train, as you found yourself closing your locker in a hurry when you began to feel your heart beating against your chest. “W-What?” You shook your head. “No, no, no… No, Wanda… no! How could that be? How would he know?”

“He said that he… he knows that you like him, Y/N. He sees the look in your eyes when you speak to him.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe you haven’t been all that subtle with him as you thought you were?” 

“Oh shit…” 

You did not know what to do, for you had not expected for things to get out of control like they had now. You had not intended for Bucky to find out about how you felt about him, not when he had drifted away from you just months ago. 

A part of you could not help but wonder if the reason why he had stopped hanging out with you was because of this revelation. Was he distancing himself because of how you felt about him? Was it because he did not feel the same way? Why had he told Wanda that he knew about it instead of coming straight to you? 

So many questions had flooded your mind at that moment, and you could not think straight. It felt as though the whole world was closing in on you, and all you wanted at that moment was to be held in someone’s arms and be told that you were loved. It was a simple wish. To feel loved and to feel like you belonged somewhere was a basic need for a human being. It was not meant to be a luxury, though that was exactly what it seemed to be nowadays. 

Your mind was telling you to run, but your feet were planted firmly against the tiled floor of the corridor. While you wondered how you were going to face him, you had felt it in your heart to trust him. He was your best friend; he wasn’t going to hurt you. 

All it took was that simple trust. That was all it took to break you. 

As you got out of the Porsche that you had rented for the remainder of your stay, you noticed a few familiar faces staring out at you in utter surprise. For starters, the car was bound to stir up some attention. But it was your outfit that was to die for. 

Just as Natasha Romanoff had suggested, a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt really did go a long way… along with a few other designer accessories that were worn for the sole purpose of making jaws drop. It was mission accomplished. 

Not that you minded being the centre of attention this time, but the thought that the people who had once spoken about you behind your back were now gawking at you with utter jealousy sure boosted that ego of yours. You had certainly earned that luxury. Perhaps coming to this reunion was not a bad thing after all. 

“Well, well, well…” Pietro Maximoff was quick to rise from his seat as you approached the table, greeting you with a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t you look like you fucking own this place.” 

“As ironic as that seems.” Wanda snorted, considering who actually did own the place. “Who would have known that Y/N Y/L/N still had it in her to cause a scene?” 

You rolled your eyes at her words, returning a kiss on her brother’s cheek. “It may have been ten years, but some things never change.” You noted, motioning towards the formerly popular crowd who were now staring at you like they had never seen a successful New York Times best-selling author in their midst. “They always fucking stare.” 

“Y/N, you made it!” The familiar voice of Rosie Bender caused you to turn around to greet her. “I’m so glad you came.” 

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” You smiled at her before you noticed the woman who stood behind her. 

Connie Chapman. 

“I love you, Bucky.” Those three words had come out of your mouth so naturally, that you did not even beat yourself up for having just confessed your love to him. “I’ve loved you for as I’ve known you.” 

A part of you had expected him to say it back in an instant, but you knew better than that. His actions during the last few months had been very clear. But the look on his face was not one of surprise, nor did he show any sign of reciprocation. He had just stood there in silence, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment too long before he nodded. “I knew that.” 

“I knew that… you knew that.” You breathed. “Wanda told me that you told her… that you knew…” Your eyes glazed over with every second, for a part of you had worried that he was indeed going to reject you. You knew that you were in for a heartbreak, but you could not handle it either way. 

“The thing is… Y/N... I like someone else, doll.” 

And... there it was. 

“Connie Chapman.” You laughed softly as you looked over at her. “I can’t believe it.” God, the years had been so unkind to her. 

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N.” 

“You too.” You lied straight through your teeth, causing Wanda to snort her drink and choke back her laughter. 

Pietro and Rosie looked rather amused by this whole interaction, but you had just shrugged it off when your eyes landed on the man who had just walked in. Dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, and a bright yellow leather jacket that seemed to match your black one, you could not deny that he knew how to make an entrance. 

The moment he entered the room, Bucky Barnes’ eyes landed right on you. Of course, you were the centre of attention; you should have always been the centre of attention. The way you were dressed in your jeans and your top, not to mention those boots; he could not deny how stunning you looked that night. 

Not that he had the courage to tell you that you looked absolutely beautiful, but he knew that he was probably the last person you wanted to hear those words from… for obvious reasons. He had screwed things up when he had the chance, so what even was the point anymore. 

“Hey Y/N, did you hear?! Bucky asked Connie to prom!” Brock Rumlow hollered at you in the hallway as you walked past him, causing you to break into tears at the remainder as his minions continued to laugh in your face. 

It had been two whole days since you had found out that Connie was the one who Bucky had feelings for. As much as it hurt to find out that you had lost the one thing that you had cherished the most in your life to her of all people, it hurt a lot more that you hadn’t found out from Bucky himself that she was the girl he liked. 

Instead, the news of Bucky’s elaborate promposal had spread around the school like wildfire, and Pietro had rushed to inform you after witnessing the gesture that had become the talk of the school. While Connie hadn’t even said yes to him, the fact that he had even asked her to prom was reason enough for people to start picking on you. And in a matter of days, you had become the joke of the school. 

But what broke your heart the most was not that Bucky had not reciprocated your feelings for him, nor that he did not have the decency to tell you that Connie Chapman was the girl of his dreams. It was the fact that Bucky had been your best friend since you were in elementary school, and he knew damn well how you felt about Connie. The rivalry that you both shared had not been a secret and Bucky had always known that. Even when he did not love you back, you had expected him to be loyal; and he had done the one thing that he probably knew was bound to cause you the worst pain. 

Wanda was quick to wrap her arm around your shoulder and drag you away from Brock and his minions, sensing that you were on the verge of yet another breakdown. Ever since things had taken a turn for the worst, she had been trying her best to keep you calm. She knew that you were a sensitive soul, which was all the more reason for her to want to protect you from your bullies. 

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t let them get to you.” 

You should your head as you hugged her tight, sobbing softly against her shoulder. “It’s not them, Wanda. It’s not… It’s him. I loved him, Wanda. I loved him so much and he… what is it about her that made him feel that way? What is it about her that made him… fall for her? What is it that she has that I don’t? Because I thought that he was mine, and now he’s not.” 

You had to blame your own insecurities for weighing you down like this. After all, you had always envied what Connie Chapman had; and now she had Bucky’s heart too. That was the worst. But deep down, you kept asking yourself over and over again. What was it about her that made him fall for her? What was it that she had that you didn’t? 

After a while, you had realized that you could never figure out the answer to those questions. But you wanted the answers, and you wanted them from him. You had been young, stupid, and hormonal. You had been so entitled to Bucky’s heart that you had been willing to fight him for it. 

Perhaps going up to him and asking him, ‘can’t you see how much I love you,’ wasn’t the way to go. Because you did love him so much. How could he not see that? 

The fact that she had rejected him to his face, and he was still pining over her while all you had for him was true love. You wanted to ask him why he was doing this? Why do you love someone who doesn’t love you back? Why do you humiliate yourself by pining over someone who could care any less about you?

Oh what a hypocrite you were… 

“Seriously, what the fuck is it that she has that I don’t?!”

Everything, you should have known that by then. 

“Can’t you see?! Just look at her! SHE’S FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!” 

And that was it. That was all it took for Bucky Barnes to break your heart at once. 

“So, I’m... am I not beautiful?! Is that what you’re saying to me?!” 

The whole school had been witness to your screaming match that ended up to be the final tug at your heartstrings. 

As you broke down in tears, Wanda Maximoff had dragged you away from him for the last time. 

Pietro had glared daggers at him before he followed behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around you to shield you from the nosy crowd that had gathered in the cafeteria. 

And that was the last time you had ever dared to look Bucky Barnes in the eyes. 

You had barely made it through the first course of the meal when you had lost your appetite. Being at this reunion had certainly stirred up your memories and made you relive the trauma that you had been through in senior year. 

You were quick to drop your fork and clutch onto Pietro’s wrist, every breath you took feeling colder than the last as you fought the urge to break down once again, just as you had done ten years ago. 

“Piet.” 

He turned over to look at you in worry, for he was well aware of how uncomfortable it must have been for you to be surrounded by the people and the memories of your senior year. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, the concern so clear in his voice. 

You shook your head, grabbing your glass of wine and chugging it down in one go. But no amount of alcohol could ever let you live down that dreadful day. “Take me home.” 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda frowned, seeing that you looked quite distressed. 

You looked up at her and shook your head. “I shouldn’t have come here.” You admitted, cursing yourself for thinking that being here could be so much as a means of finding writing inspiration. “I can’t do it.” 

Pietro let out a sigh as he nodded understandingly, setting down his fork before wiping off his mouth with his napkin. “How about we head to The Tavern and get shit-faced? Every minute I spend in this place makes me want to throw up, and I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling.”

His sister could not help but nod in agreement. “Honestly, I only came back home because Harry asked me to check in on you. This whole reunion business never interested me.” 

“And I came because there’s no way in hell I would let the two of you deal with these people on your own.” He admitted, chuckling softly 

“I love you both so fucking much.” You smiled over at the two of them before resting your head against Pietro’s shoulder. “What would I have done without the two of you?” 

“Oh you would have been so miserable that senior year.” Wanda joked. 

From the corner of his eyes, Bucky was able to see how close you and Pietro had been seated. To say that a part of him was feeling a strong sense of jealousy would be an understatement. 

Deep down he knew that it should have been him sitting next to you during your high school reunion, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while you laughed about the memories that were meant to be happy ones. 

But instead he had ruined it all by doing what he had done, and now he was forced to watch you from afar with Pietro Maximoff in the place of your best friend. 

Bucky never had anything against Pietro, not back then and certainly not now. Back when the Maximoff twins were just the new kids on the block, he could have cared less about them. 

He and Brock were tight then, so he hadn’t bothered befriending the oldest Maximoff. He had seen you and Wanda hanging around at lunch, but he never would have thought that you had become close friends. That place had always been reserved for him, and you never opened up to anyone else. 

Even when he had distanced himself from you, he had felt possessive over you. But now he knew that it was his actions and the twins’ kindness to let you lean on them at that time that led to him sitting at this reunion in jealousy, while the three of you dined together. 

“You know, it’s not that polite to stare.” Rosie Bender remarked cheekily as she nudged her girlfriend’s brother. “And it seems to me that you haven’t even bothered to take your eyes off of her ever since you got here.” 

“She looks beautiful.” He noted, finally turning over to look over at his friend. “So… radiant. She could always light up the room she walks into.” 

“Oh please, you’re the guy who told her otherwise.” She snickered. 

Bucky could not help but roll his eyes at the reminder. “You know it should have been me sitting next to her like that, not him.” 

“It could have been you, sure. But you managed to ruin that for yourself, didn’t you?” 

“Do you think she would ever forgive me for what I did, Bender?” He asked, a little unsure himself. “Would she ever love me the same way?” 

“How would I know?” She shrugged. “Truth be told, I hope she won’t. No offence, but… as someone who watched all of your drama for the sidelines, I’ve always felt that she deserves better than the guy who took her for granted and treated her like shit.” 

“I never realized how much you hate the idea of seeing us together.” He raised his eyebrow at her. 

Rosie was quick to shake her head at his assumption. “That’s not true.” She admitted, sighing. “You know, when I sold you those prom tickets, I seriously thought that you were buying them for her. All of us in the Prom Committee, we all knew that she had a thing for you. We were rooting for the two of you to finally get together and ride off into the sunset.” 

Not that she would ever admit it to Bucky, but she had always regretted the part she had to play in your fallout. Even though she hadn’t intended for things to escalate the way they had, she often wondered if things would have been different if she hadn’t sold Bucky those prom tickets. But she knew that if she hadn’t done that, then someone else would have. In the end, it was Bucky’s fault that he had ruined things with you. 

“Wow, I guess I was an idiot.” 

“That you are.” She agreed, laughing softly before shaking her head. “Bucky, I know that she’s much better off without you. She’s built herself a whole life after she left town and she doesn’t need you in her life anymore. But I’ve had to watch you be miserable ever since she left.” 

He wasn’t even going to deny that, for even he knew that losing you had been the worst thing that had happened to him. Not even being rejected by Connie Chapman could ever compare to the pain that he had caused himself. “Rosie, I...”

“Admit it, you’ve always felt like something was missing in your life, and it’s her. She may not need you, but you need her.You fucked up, and I know that you’ve realized your mistakes now. You could either keep sitting here and look stupid, or you could finally do things right. It’s your call, Barnes.” 

#kas4kwc #aj writes #hope #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #doctor!Bucky #doctor au

[buckthegrump]

Are You Leaving My Love Behind?

Summary: At lot can happen in five years, but even more can happen in a few months.

Warnings:  Angst, pregnancy stuff, mentions of violence, fluff kind of

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: this is for @wkemeup​ ‘s writing challenge my prompt was “please tell me that isn’t your blood” sorry it took me so fucking long to get it out

2018

“Ok, we’re gonna start trying,” Charlie smiled as his wife, Y/n, who smiled back at him. 

“I think now’s the best time, I mean we’re never gonna be really ready, ya know?” She lifted her wine glass.

He lifted his glass to tap against hers. But they never touched. Just as they were about to, Y/n’s fell to the ground and shattered. Charlie turned his attention to the mess she had made while Y/n stared at her hand in horror. He looked back up at her with a question on his lips that was never fully formed.

Painfully slow, they watched as Y/n’s body slowly turned gray then to dust. She looked her husband in the eye.

“I love you,” was the last thing she said before she disappeared. 

Charlie sat on the couch watching as the dust particles of his wife slowly fell to the ground.

2023

Y/n was sitting on a couch in a house. Her house, but this wasn’t her couch. The room looked like her living room, but there was something off about it, something different that she couldn’t identify. And it was more than just the fact that the couch was different.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice filled her eyes and relief washed over her. That is until she turned around.

Charlie was standing there with another woman. He looked different, older, tired, still hot though. But it was the other woman that stood there with him that had most of Y/n’s attention. It was the possessive hand on his bicep, and more so the blinding ring on her left hand.

“Charlie,” Y/n whispered, unable to hide the fear and hurt in her voice, “Who’s this?”

* * *

Y/n stared at the snack table in front of her. All the donuts had been sliced in half despite the fact that it was a full dozen and there weren’t even six people in the room. And she highly doubted that anyone else would join, her therapist said that it was a smaller group. 

Maybe it was so small because not many people knew about it. It didn’t help that it was in the gym of an old high school that was not only creepy but a little hard to find. Or maybe people were scared off by the superheroes that were sitting around the circle. Even though there were only two of them.

Y/n grabbed two whole donuts silently daring anyone to say anything about it and sat down in a chair. The two superheroes and one civilian sat next to each other and the leader of this grief group sat in a chair that was meant to be the head of the circle. While Y/n had secluded herself from the group.

“I think now is a good time to start,” the leader spoke, “My name is Sarah, for those of us who are new.”

Sarah very pointedly looked at Y/n who was still chowing down on her donuts trying to turn invisible.

“Anyway -” Sarah then made everyone introduce themselves and share something.

Sam and Bucky were here because they’d lost their friends. Y/n couldn’t tell if they were talking about Tony Stark or Steve Rogers, or maybe both. Maddi was there because while she’d just given birth when she got dusted and came back to a child that she didn’t know, which made Y/n feel stupid for her thing.

So she told them that she was just having trouble adjusting to life after ‘the blip’. Which wasn’t a complete lie but at this point, she was much more interested in finishing her donut.

Y/n didn’t talk much the rest of the time and let the others speak and work through their problems.

“Y/n,” Sarah addressed her at the end of group, “Are you sure you don’t have anything you’d like to share?”

“Not this week,” she answered.

And for a few weeks, she would answer the same way and Sarah would give her the same look. As time went on a few more people joined the group until there were a whopping eight people there, not including Sarah. (Still not enough for them to have any real reason to cut the donuts in half, in Y/n’s correct opinion.) Y/n hadn’t really bothered to commit their names to her memory but it’s not like she ever talked to anyone outside of this.

She hadn’t planned on saying much in group at all, she only came because her therapist said that if she continued to come he would bring some of his wife’s baking to one of their sessions. And she really wanted some cookies.

But, earlier that day she’d sat in an office across from Charlie. 

“Y/n, anything you’d like to share this week?” Sarah asked as she did every week. She was clearly expecting Y/n to say no.

“I shouldn’t hate Daniella, I know logically I shouldn’t but apparently the smart part of my brain is much smaller than the stupid part,” Y/n said. She almost left it at that just to get it off her chest.

“Why?” Bucky asked. Y/n and he locked eyes for a moment that seemed way too long for the setting there were in before she answered him.

“Why what?”

“Why do you hate her?”

Y/n laughed humorlessly. “She’s living the life I want. I know how that sounds but it’s true. I was dusted out of existence and when I came back apparently it was five years later and my husband, who watched me die, had fallen in love with someone else and asked her to marry him. So you can imagine his shock when I reappeared on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon as if nothing had happened.

“He still wants to marry her,” she could feel the lump in her throat begin to rise and did nothing to stop the tears from flowing. “So he asked for a divorce. And I know that it was five years ago and he’s changed, he had to live through my death. But he didn’t. . . I didn’t change. It’s only been four months since I’ve been back and he didn’t even try.”

She paused but no one spoke. They all sat there staring at her.

“And I know that my problems aren’t half as bad as some of the shit that y’all are going through but I just -” Y/n tried to swallow but it was hard. “Why the fuck does she get my life?”

* * *

Y/n was sitting in a forgotten hallway of the school, yes with the box of donuts in her lap. But she had lost her appetite.

“Ya know it’s considered rude to run off with the donuts.” She looked up to find Bucky Barnes standing next to her. She opened the box and offered him some. He grabbed one of the jelly-filled ones and sat down next to her. 

“We were going to try for kids, probably adopt some too, he really loved kids.”

“It’s really shitty of him for doing that to you,” he whispered.

“I lied, he didn’t ask for the divorce,” she admitted, “I did.”

“Why?”

“For the first month, I lived with them. I watched them interact and I -” she paused to compose herself. “He used to look at me like that. It’s not his fault I’m still living in the past. For a week I thought I was pregnant, and I was so relieved when I wasn’t. I don’t think I would’ve kept it if I had been.”

Bucky didn’t say anything and he hadn’t taken a bite of his donut yet.

“Sorry, group is over I shouldn’t be unloading all my bullshit on you.” She began to stand.

“It’s fine I don’t mind,” he told her.

“You’re very sweet, but it’s not like we’re friends or anything,” she smiled down at him.

He stumbled to his feet before she could walk away. “We could be.”

She looked at him expecting to see pity behind his gaze but she found none. What she did find was something that she couldn’t put a name to.

“Ok,” she agreed, “I don’t have many friends these days. Walk with me.”

So he walked her ‘home’ which was more of a temporary living situation. She had always been a babbler, it was something that Charlie constantly said would get her in trouble sooner rather than later. That day had finally arrived.

“I was sorry to hear about your friends,” she said as they walked.

“Thanks,” he said with a shrug.

“Do you miss him? Captain America, I mean. What do I even call him? Captain America seems so formal but calling him Steve Rogers seems too casual ya know?”

“It’s complicated. It’s not like we were dating or anything but I thought -” the nearly forgotten donut in his hand made its way to his mouth. Y/n walked silently waiting for him to continue his thought or change the subject. “I just assumed that we were something different.”

“Were you in love with him?” She blurted and he nearly choked on his bite. “You don’t have to answer that. In fact, forget I even asked.”

“I think so,” he answered once he was able to speak. “But clearly he didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why do you say that?”

Bucky chuckled. “That’s a little harder to explain.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” she said as she stopped in front of a dingy motel. “This is me.”

Bucky’s brows knitted together and his lip twinged in disgust. “You live here?”

“Well, I couldn’t really continue living with the happy couple, could I?” She asked. “Good night, Bucky. I’ll see ya next week.”

* * *

Charlie was talking about something to do with the divorce, but Y/n wasn’t really listening.

“Y/n,” he said pulling her from her daydreaming.

“Huh?”

“I know when you’re spacing out, is everything ok?”

Y/n let out a quiet sigh. What a loaded question. But the short answer was no. Of course, she wasn’t ok. How could she be? She was about to get a divorce that she wasn’t sure she wanted. Sure, she was the one who asked for it, but the look of relief on Charlie’s face when she suggested it-

If she hadn’t had said it when she did, sooner or later, he would’ve.

The paper was just sitting there on the table in front of her. The legal side of the divorce was pretty straight forward with a little leeway for Y/n after being gone for five years.

“I’m fine, Charlie,” she said. After taking a deep breath she flipped the pen in her fingers and signed the paper without a second thought. “I’ll see ya around, Ace.”

“Y/n,” he said.

Before he could get another word out she rushed through the doors. She walked faster than she needed to away from the building once she was outside knowing that Charlie would probably try to follow her. Well, at least her Charlie from five years ago would’ve. 

She wandered around the city for hours until she found herself outside the high school, that had recently reopened, where the grief group was held. It wasn’t until she saw Sam and Bucky walking towards her that she remembered that it was Thursday and they did have group today. She was also painfully aware of the tear streaks that stained her cheeks.

Sam made a b-line for the high school entrance, while Bucky walked right to her.

“What’s wrong?” He started to lift his had but put it back down at his side thinking better of it. She began to shake her head ready to deny that anything was wrong. “Don’t bother lying to me.”

“I signed the divorce papers today,” she whispered.

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line. “Do you wanna skip today?” She nodded and he gave her a small smile. “C’mon, I know of something way more fun than dealing with our emotions.”

* * *

Y/n was still crying but now they were tears from laughing too hard. Bucky had fallen on his ass for the seventh time in two minutes. One would think that a highly trained assassin would know how to stay upright on a pair of roller skates.

“Who knew that all they need to defeat the great Bucky Barnes is a pair of skates,” she giggled as she rolled over to him to help him up.

“Keep laughing,” he grunted, “I’m about to get the hang of this stupid thing and lap you so hard.”

“Oh, I don’t think so baby blue.” She offered him his hand, which he gladly took. But once he was standing he instantly almost fell again but Y/n caught him helping him balance. He was gripping her for arms as he steadied himself. He looked up from his feet to her face.

The lights of the roller rink dimmed and the disco ball was the only thing illuminating the floor, some 80’s love ballad started playing, and the rest of the people skating around them ceased to exist for a brief moment.

All the pain that she’d been feeling for that past few months, every thought of Daniella and Charlie, everything, except for Bucky, melted away. And for one glorious second, her heart wasn’t heavy.

But then the moment was over and it all came rushing back hitting her like a semi-truck barreling down the highway. 

She smiled and gently prompted Bucky to stand up on his own.

“Here’s your chance hot-shot, get the hang of it and lap me.” She stuck her tongue out at him and skated away from him.

Once she was facing away from him her smile dropped. If she had stayed in that position even a half-second longer she would’ve done something stupid. Like, try to kiss him, which only could’ve ended with him rejecting her. For a multitude of reasons on his end, and she just wasn’t ready for something like that. 

The universe was clearly playing some sort of cosmic joke on her.

About an hour later they were walking down the street in the general direction of Y/n’s temporary home but she almost didn’t want the night to end.

“Thank you,” she said bumping her shoulder against Bucky’s as they walked. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I meant it when I said I wanted to be friends.”

She looked down at the ground smiling. He shouldn’t be affecting her like this, she’d just signed divorce papers for fuck’s sake.

“Give me your phone,” she said when they stopped in front of the motel. He handed it over to her unlocked and she put her number in and handed it back. “There, now we don’t have to wait a week to talk to each other.”

“You might regret this choice,” he teased then bid her goodbye.

Later that night she got a text from Bucky. It was some video with the caption ‘I thought you would find this funny.’

* * *

A few days after she signed the papers, she found an apartment that was move-in ready. Things were finally starting to look up for her. She wanted to text Charlie and just talk to him but she restrained herself.

Instead, she distracted herself with social media, and apparently she hadn’t unfollowed her ex-husband because the first thing she saw on Instagram was a picture of him and Daniella. It was obviously some of their engagement photos, and whatever good feelings she’d had, flew out the window.

On a whim, she texted the only friend she had these days. She wasn’t expecting anything to come from it, but about forty-five minutes later Bucky was knocking at her door.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she opened the door.

“I brought treats,” he said walking in not waiting for her to invite him in. He set the brown bag down on her coffee table and sat on her couch. “And there are a bunch of movies that I’ve been told are classics that I haven’t seen yet, so help me catch up.”

She smiled at him as she sat next to him on the couch and dug into the bag of snacks.

They were halfway through the first movie when she was hit with a sudden wave of emotions and she started crying.

“Woah,” Bucky whispered putting down his drink on the coffee table. He turned to her. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s my best friend, or he was,” she wiped the tears off her cheeks, “Any time someone talks about getting a divorce they don’t talk about that you lose your best friend. I saw something stupid on the street a few days ago like right after the signing and I wanted to text Charlie so bad. And I had the message all typed and ready to go when I remembered that I can’t do that anymore.

“Not to mention that all my friends pre-blip weren’t blipped away and now they have all moved on and I’m still in the same place I was five years ago.” She looked down at her hands and picked at her thumbnail. “I just - all my life I was afraid of being left behind, and now I have been.”

“Well, I like stupid things,” Bucky said, “so next time you can text me. We’re friends, and I know what it’s like to be left behind.”

* * *

As the week went on Y/n realized a pattern in her behavior. Any time that she found something funny or just wanted to talk to anyone, Bucky was her first choice. She had other friends but Bucky had quickly become her best friend.

Thursday came faster than she expected it to. And for once, she was actually looking forward to it. 

That is until she opened Instagram. Charlie had posted again, and it used to be that he would post maybe once every month if that. So him posting again so soon after the most recent one, surprised her a little, but, she could handle Charlie and Daniella being cute in one post.

She was sitting in the chair in the circle while the rest of the patrons trickled in, and that’s when she finally really looked at the post and her heart nearly stopped.

“Alrighty,” Sarah said calling attention to herself, “Let’s begin. Does anyone want to start us off?”

Everyone was silent, Y/n sent a pleading look to Bucky who was across the circle from her. She knew that if no one else started it Sarah would -

“Y/n,” Sarah said as if she could read minds, “We missed you last week. Anything you’d like to share?”

Y/n snorted. “Two seconds before I was turned to dust, my husband, well ex-husband, and I had just decided to start trying for a kid. And now we’re divorced, and his new fiancee is pregnant. Or at least they just announced it, which means they’ve known for a few months. But I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck I did in a past life to warrant this kind of bullshit. Ya know?”

“Well,” Sarah started but Y/n wasn’t paying attention. All of her attention was on Bucky who was staring back at her. His gaze was unwavering. He offered her a small smile, which she returned.

At that moment, something deep inside her sparked back to life. She knew the feeling, she hadn’t had these feelings since the beginning of her relationship with Charlie. She had this feeling of almost despair with the knowledge that she could easily fall in love with this man if she wasn’t careful.

And Y/n was one clumsy fucker.

* * *

Y/n would like to say that she held out for months before she fell in love with Bucky.

It would be a lie, but ya gotta lie to yourself sometimes.

Three weeks had passed since Charlie’s announcement and Y/n hadn’t thought about it in a long time.

No, instead she was spending most of her free time acting like a high school girl who had a crush. When she was in bed at night texting him she would be grinning like an idiot. Or anytime he called her, her heart would skip several beats.

It even got to the point where one time at the support group he said something to her that was mildly flirtatious and her palms started full-on sweating. It was getting ridiculous.

Crushes weren’t supposed to feel like that as an adult. The butterflies in her stomach were supposed to be subdued, her heart wasn’t supposed to completely stop every time he so much as smiled at her. And yet, that’s exactly what she was going through.

* * *

There was one Thursday when Bucky wasn’t at group. He had sent her a text telling her as much, but she’d hoped that he was lying and was going to show up anyway. Because yes, they were friends and hung out outside of Thursday nights, but with the group, they got to see each other every week.

But then she didn’t hear from him for a few days, then a whole week. Which wasn’t the biggest deal in the world, people get busy Y/n understood that. She didn’t start to worry until another Thursday came and went without a word from Bucky.

Y/n was pacing her living room after group and was three seconds from calling Bucky and then the police if he didn’t respond. Then there was a knock at her door.

She opened it to find a beaten and bloodied Bucky standing at her door, and her heart dropped to her stomach.

“I forgot to text,” he whispered, but she was no longer worried about the lack of contact for the past week.

“Please tell me that isn’t your blood,” she whispered.

He gave her finger guns and the weakest smile. “I can’t.”

“Jesus, Barnes,” she pulled him in and closed the door behind him.

Y/n led him to the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked as he watched her sort through everything in the bathroom looking for the supplies she needed.

She glanced at him sideways before wetting a washcloth with warm water. As gently as she could, she began to wipe the blood away from his face. Y/n focused solely on his blood-stained cheeks, but she could feel Bucky’s gaze glued to her.

“Ya know that I’ll take a shower and be fine, I’m a super soldier I don’t need you to patch me up,” he said softly sending a shiver down her spine.

“Do you want me to stop?” She started to pull her hand away but Bucky caught her wrist in his hand.

“No.”

Y/n continued silently cleaning off his face, he hissed when she found a cut on his left cheekbone. She mumbled an apology but then found yet another half-healed gash on his face.

“Is this punishment for not telling you I had to go on a mission?” He teased.

“Is that where you were?” She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled sheepishly. “Well, now the lack of communication during the week makes sense. But what I still don’t understand is why you decided to forego a shower before showing up at my doorstep battered and bruised? Especially if you knew that you would heal up in a few hours. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll tell you what’s going on next time. And shower before I come over.”

“As long as you come over,” Y/n shrugged.

* * *

Sam was sitting on the couch when Bucky returned to their shared apartment. The grin on Sam’s face didn’t go unnoticed but Bucky was trying to ignore him.

“You didn’t even bother to shower before you went over to her place,” Sam unnecessarily pointed out. “How bad do you have it?”

“I do not have it bad-”

Sam interrupted him with a laugh. “Barnes, she got you acting like a damned fool. And don’t think I haven’t seen the way that you stare longingly at her during support group. And the stupid smile you have on your face anytime she texts you. Not to mention -”

“Ok, ok, I get it. You know I like her.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief. “That’s what you’re calling it? ‘Liking her’? Boy, I got some news for you.”

Bucky sighed and sunk into the couch next to Sam. “I can’t be in love with her Sam. We only met a few months ago. Not to mention she just got a divorce.”

“Well, you were apart of two different fights for the universe with no break in between. Your concept of time and the time you have left on earth has been altered. The timeline that you normally would’ve given yourself doesn’t really apply anymore. And if I’m right, which I am, you’re probably not gonna tell her that you’re in love with her for about 80 years after being on ice for 70 of those years, fighting a war or two and then leaving your best friends with little to no warning. Then somehow making your way back to your friends only to, I don’t know, take off your arm and saying ‘you’re in charge now’,” Sam said only mildly bitterly.

Bucky snorted.

“If it’s any consolation,” Sam said after a moment, “I think that she could be falling in love with you too.”

* * *

Y/n was sitting on Bucky’s couch. It was only the second time she’d been to his apartment. And she was trying to relax but she was trying not to think about the fact that she was falling in love with Bucky.

It was the fact that she was already so enamored by him and she’d just gotten a divorce.  She felt guilty. For what? Having feelings? Moving on with her life?

“Steve isn’t dead,” Bucky blurted.

Y/n looked at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Rogers,” Bucky continued. “He didn’t die in the same fight as Tony. He went back in time to be with Peggy, which is his own choice. But it’s like every time I got him back I lost him again, and this time he chose it. I don’t know, I just feel like I’m wanted.”

“I want you,” she said. His eyes were wide when he looked at her. “No, that’s not really what I meant but like -”

“I get what you mean,” he said then whispered, “I think.”

“Do you want pizza?” Y/n asked getting off the sofa.

“We’re not gonna talk about how you want me? Specifically for my body,” Bucky got up and followed her.

“I’ve decided to kill you and then you would be a joke in your community. A supersoldier, taken out by little old me, a human. You have a metal arm, Barnes, why was I able to take you down?”

“Well, I hope that you do well in your life after you murder me in cold blood.”

“It wouldn’t be in cold blood, besides I don’t even know how to throw a proper punch,” she shrugged.

Bucky chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to fight.”

Y/n looked down at the floor with the hint of a smile on her face. “Ok, thanks.”

“But do you actually want pizza?” He asked as he grabbed his phone. Y/n looked up from the ground at him. “Because I could order some and then have Sam pick it up on his way home.”

“Pizza sounds good.”

“Great.” Bucky unlocked his phone and started typing away. 

“You’d really teach me how to fight? I’m not coordinated at all, but I’m great at giving people bruises, so prepared for that,” she gave him finger guns.

Bucky chuckled. “Ok, Sam is gonna pick up the pizza and -”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Y/n blurted.

She and Bucky stared at each other silently for a moment. Y/n let out a noise that was halfway between a squeal and a laugh before running towards the door. Bucky grabbed her arm before she got far.

“It’s not fair to tell me something like that and then run away,” he said softly.

“But what if you judge me?”

“I have no place to judge you.”

“I shouldn’t have blurted it at all because now you might feel pressured to say something you don’t mean. Listen if you don’t feel the same way and want to just say friends just tell me right now, I can handle it.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side. “What makes you think I don’t feel the same?”

A beat. 

The tension between them got so intense Y/n almost couldn’t stand it. For a brief moment, she thanked her lucky stars that Sam wasn’t in the apartment because he definitely would’ve made a joke that ruined the moment.

“Do you wanna kiss me as much as I wanna kiss you?” Bucky asked.

“No,” she said and his face twisted in confusion, “Clearly I want to do it more.”

She cupped his cheeks with her hands pulling him into her. Once their lips met every worry she had about falling in love again went out the window. All the guilt and anxiety that had been building up over the last few months was gone. 

The door to the apartment opened and in walked Sam. Bucky and Y/n were still in each other's arms and they stared at Sam who stared back blankly.

“Shit, the pizza,” was all he said before he walked right back out the door.

“Just so there’s no confusion, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you too,” Bucky said.

“Good because that would’ve been awkward,” Y/n chuckled.

#kas4kwc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x reader

[captain-kelli]

Wayfarer // Fernweh Collection

Wayfarer (n): “a person who travels on foot”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Type: Challenge // One-Shot // Fernweh Collection

Word Count: 2,093

Summary: With a second lease on life, you and Steve cross off an item on your bucket list in Peru.

Warnings: mention of alcohol

A/N:  This outrageously late one-shot is for @wkemeup​​‘s writing challenge! Congratulations on the milestone, Kas! Thank you for being patient with me while I whipped up the inspiration for this. 💕

Prompt: “You’re going to have to trust me.”

Italics are thoughts

You’ve been dreading this day. 

Sure, hiking the Inca Trail has been on your bucket list since forever, but that dream does nothing to ease the pain currently shooting through your calves or replenish the air in your burning lungs.

Dead Woman’s Pass is the highest point on the route to Machu Picchu, its elevation making altitude sickness practically inevitable. To make matters worse, the never-ending stone steps carved centuries ago are unforgivingly steep. 

In this moment, you’re cursing yourself for not just taking the train to the ancient Inca citadel like most sane people.

But no, I wanted to earn my adventure.

The morning, though still filled with steps, included a trek through the jungle with lush greens and a raging river. The coca tea fueling your stride, it made for an enjoyable hike

But now your legs feel heavy and every breath is labored. The pair of hiking poles the only thing keeping you upright, you plow forward in an attempt to reach the rest of your group.

And Steve.

Steve, of course, is fine. The former asthmatic has no problem breathing now. The porters, locals who navigate the trail and carry the equipment, watch in awe as he passes even them. 

He looks over his shoulder in search of you and then his smile disappears. Close to the summit, he turns around to meet you at the back of the pack. A groan escapes your chest in anticipation of what you’re sure will be a painful pep talk.

To your surprise, he doesn’t say anything when he reaches you. Instead, he silently removes the pack from your shoulders and offers you a water bottle. The absence of the bag’s weight along with a break in the climb offer a much welcomed respite. 

“It’s beautiful up here.”

Steve’s positive attitude is refreshing - especially considering you’ve convinced yourself that this was to be your final resting place. 

Dead Woman’s Pass, indeed.

Silver linings. The bright side. Steve’s always been an optimist, but retirement has taken it to a whole other level. Ordinarily, it brings you joy. Today, however, he might as well be begging you to throw him off a cliff.

“Uh huh.”

He’s right, of course. The view is stunning. The peaks of the pass catapult into the sky, giant as they tower above you. The dried tall grass paints the valley a golden shade of yellow, the dirt path meandering through it with you and Steve standing in the middle of it all.

“I know you’re tired, but you’re going to have to trust me. The view from up there is worth all of this.”

Steve settles your pack atop the one already on his back and continues his ascent with you falling in alongside him. The tiny rocks on the trail grind against the bottom of your boots while the hot sun rages against your skin. Every last bit of energy you have is spent pushing towards the top.

I didn’t come all the way here just to give up. Not after everything that happened. 

Looking ahead, the rest of your group has made it. You’re not far. The immense agony you’ve been feeling is replaced by excitement. Joy. Digging the hiking poles deeper into the ground, the trail moves beneath your feet. Adrenaline courses through your body, aiding your breath. Closer and closer you climb.

And now you’re here.

The top of Dead Woman’s Pass.

Clouds loosely blanket the pale blue sky, their shadows crossing the valley’s floor. Standing in awe of the Earth’s creation, you marvel at the winding trail that brought you here. Looking to your left, you find a smiling Steve.

“I told you.”

It’s so fun when he’s right.

After a few moments spent memorializing the feat with photographs, you, Steve, and the rest of your group start the downward journey to tonight’s camp. It’s another three hours, but the descent is far more forgiving. 

When you finally make it down, you drop your gear and head for the meal tent. These group gatherings have become one of the highlights of the journey. Like you, several of them are chasing after old dreams thought lost to the blip and you find fellowship in their company under the Peruvian sky.

At the table, Steve shares stories of his adjustment to the 21st century while you and your new friends compare bucket lists. The meal is filled with laughter, gratitude, and hope for the days to come.

Not long after eating, you decide to sneak in a quick shower. The sweat from the day’s climb is sticking to your skin and you’re acutely aware of the stench reeking from your armpits, so it’s worth the momentary discomfort. The water rushes down from a mountain stream, the cold sending shivers up your spine and raising bumps on your flesh. 

Steve likens it to his time spent in the frozen waters of the Arctic. 

By the time you and Steve are clean again, the day is ending. The sun rests far beyond the Andean mountains, allowing the night sky its evening brilliance. Without the glow of the moon, the ink-colored heavens are brightened instead by a sea of stars and the world is quiet. Still.

Before crawling into your tent to sleep away the hike’s aches, Steve takes you by the hand and leads you to a place far from the group. On a blanket nestled in the grass, you lie wrapped in his arms reflecting on the accomplishments of the day.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here. We’re in Peru.”

Steve’s hand softly strokes yours while keeping his sights on the sky above, listening to you all the while.

“When I came back, it felt like the world passed me by. There’s a peace being in a place that’s somehow timeless.”

With this, Steve could relate.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. And no one else I’d rather be with.” He says this before placing a kiss on your temple, resting his head against yours, and closing his eyes. When you peek over your shoulder to find him this way, you insist on going back to camp. Sleep is calling.

The next afternoon brings with it an easier hike. It’s a relaxed pace after yesterday’s endeavor, the gentle ups and downs kinder on your tired legs. The umber mountain sides are replaced with a familiar forest filled with shady moss and various shades of green in a dramatic change of scenery. When you aren’t in the thick of vegetation, you are crawling through tunnels, clinging to cliff edges, and crossing ancient Incan terraces with Steve at your side every step of the way.

Though the longest day, it is easily the most beautiful.

The final group lunch is bittersweet and you’re loath to see your time with them come to an end. You’re not the only one to feel this way, you learn, when you find the porters have baked a surprise cake for the group. 

The gesture, this small hint at humanity, brings you to tears.

Lunch is quick and your group hops back on the trail. Hours pass before the day’s trip is done and fatigue finally takes over. Everything is throbbing - your ankles, your knees, your back. Your entire body is absolutely done with this foolish dream of yours.

Why couldn’t my dream be sitting on the beach with a margarita?

Dinner is swift and mostly silent, weariness quieting the usual conversation. Afterwards, you meet with the porters to thank them for a journey well navigated and tip each of them more than you ordinarily would.

Now, it’s finally time to rest. 

It’s time to prepare your heart for tomorrow. For the first destination of what you hope will be a never ending journey of discovery.

In the tent, you find Steve wiggling his way into the sleeping bag and it’s a funny sight. The giant, retired super-soldier fights for room in the bag, for comfort, and you can’t help but to laugh. Your amusement only adds to his frustration.

With infinite more grace and ease, you shimmy into your sleeping bag next to Steve. The nights in the mountains are far colder than the days, so you scoot closer to him in an effort to keep warm. Wrapping an arm around your back, he pulls you in tight.

His hand finds your cheek and he lightly brushes his fingers across it. In his eyes are wonder and adoration, the expression prompting you to lift an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

It’s his turn to be amused. As if you didn’t disappear for five years. As if he didn’t battle every day just to survive without you in his life. As if he didn't move heaven and earth to bring you home. Every time he looks at you, he’s filled with thankfulness. But he doesn’t tell you that.

“Nothing. Just tired.”

Instead, he resolves to follow you around the world for every adventure you dream up. It’s the least he can do after you suited up for every mission of his. His kiss lingers over your lips before he whispers his love for you like a secret into the night air.

Sleep isn’t longer than a blink, it feels like. Darkness still drowns the tent and the world is quiet, but Steve is awake. Tenderly he tries to rouse you, but you’re having none of it. Even while sleeping, your subconscious is aware of your body’s exhaustion and all you want to do is rest.

“C’mon, Y/N. I thought you wanted to be the first group through the Sun Gate.”

The Sun Gate. The entrance used by the Inca to reach their hallowed city hundreds of years ago, so named for the way the sun’s light passes through it in the early hours of the day during the summer. Steve knows you want to watch the sunrise from there, so he’s persistent in his pushing.

A promise of coffee does the trick.

It isn’t long before you, Steve, and the group are stumbling through shadows, rushing to beat other travelers to the first checkpoint. Then it’s a waiting game. Crowds at your back, you know you’ll have to race to beat them to the Sun Gate.

Your body strong and hardened from the days prior, you do so without trouble.

Because I am a badass woman following in the footsteps of the badass women that came before me.

Yeah, you’re worn out. Your muscles are practically screaming. You can’t help but be jealous of the serum surging through Steve’s body as he plods forward so easily.

But the anticipation charges your momentum, your mind pressing on despite the protests of your body. The encouraging words of the group guide serve as a reminder to maintain a rhythm and keep it without stopping.

And you do.

You do until you see it. Mist stretches across the valley, dispersing as a way to greet you to the lost city. When it clears, you’re met with Huayna Picchu, the soaring mountain standing guard of the remembered ghosts, showered in the morning rays of the sun.

You’re not sure if it’s the altitude or the view, but the ability to breathe escapes you.

The feeling of Steve’s fingers interlocking with yours brings you back to the moment and you let out a sigh. This is the end of Inca Trail. You’ve made it. Tears unwillingly stream down your face at the majesty below and the triumph behind you. More photographs, a kiss from Steve, and a mile walk separate you from the site you’ve spent the past four days trekking towards.

Machu Picchu is more than you could ever imagine. The guided tour is filled with an abundance of history. Steve steals time to sketch the mountains and the ruins tucked beneath them while you make friends with a llama.

Or is it an alpaca? You know what, who cares? It’s cute. 

When it’s your time to leave, you commemorate your expedition with a special stamp for your passport. A memory to keep with you. Proof. Taking one final look, you utter a quiet goodbye to the first adventure of your new life. 

On the bus ride back to Cusco, you watch the sun sinking behind the mountains nearly twelve hours after you saw it rise. Your head resting lightly on Steve’s shoulder, you’re reminded that life moves on and you’re grateful for a second chance at yours. If you had to guess, so is Steve.

And neither of you plan to waste a single second of it.

#kas4kwc #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers/reader #captain kelli fernweh

[mermaidxatxheart]

Surprise

This is my submission for @wkemeup‘s writing challenge. Congratulations on the milestone, love!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 1143

Warnings: Swearing. If you think I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: You try to get away with something, but Bucky catches you in the act.

Writing Prompt: This isn’t what it looks like

The phone rings while you wait impatiently. 

 “Barnes.” The deep voice on the other end picks up. He must have answered without looking. He’s usually happier to hear from you. 

“Hi, handsome. Quick question.” You start, aiming for casual. 

 “Alright.” He prompts. 

 “Where are you?” 

 “At the compound. Sam and I are planning our next mission. Why?”

 “So you plan on being there for a good while?” You ask innocently. 

 “Yeah, probably.”

 “Okay. I was thinking about making lasagna for dinner. I know it’s your favorite.” You tell him, hoping he’ll take the bribe. 

 He groans quietly. “You’re so good to me.” 

 “I know.” You smile to yourself. “I’ll see you later, lover. Say hi to Sam for me.”

 “I absolutely will not. He doesn’t deserve it.” Bucky says. 

 “Hey, Y/N! What’s good, girl?” 

 “No, don’t answer him.” Bucky sighs.

 “Hey, Sammy. Wanna come over for dinner?”

 “No!” Bucky groans. 

 “Yes!” Sam says. 

 “Great. I’ll see you two much much later.” You say, hanging up. You look down at the basket at your feet. “That went well.” You nod, lifting the basket into the backseat of your car. “Okay. I need you guys to behave.” You say to the mix-matched collection of small dogs. 

  The trip to the home you share with Bucky is relatively short. Not a whole lot of traffic way out here in the country and Bucky kind of likes that, so you don’t mind it. 

 You manage to usher all eight of the dogs inside and they are loving their new home. They’re trying to escape and go sniff everything, but you have to figure out where to hide them for a surprise for Bucky. 

 “Okay, puppies. Into the food pantry.” You herd them that way and start to shut the door, but then change your mind. “That’s no good, he’ll see you all there. He eats so much.” You sigh and start corralling them towards the coat closet. 

 “No way you’re all going to fit in there.” You groan. Curse Bucky and his ridiculous coat collection. 

 You steer them towards the bedroom and they all jump on the bed. “No no no no no!” You whine, but then you hear tires in the driveway.

 “No! Damn it, Barnes.” You groan and grab the nearest dog and set her gently in the closet, nudging the door closed while you try to get the rest. 

 There isn’t time! He’s coming up the stairs!! You grab the comforter and fling it out over the dogs, covering them. 

 You sit on the settee at the end and cross your legs, a perfect picture of innocence. Behind you, you can hear the dogs getting restless, and you feel like you’re missing something glaringly obvious, but for the life of you, you can’t think of what it is. 

 The door opens slowly and you fling your arms out, hoping to disguise the dog-shaped mounds on the bed. “You’re home early!” You cry and then your eyes fall on Sam.

 Bucky

 “What’s that?” Sam asks, looking behind you. 

 “Nothing.” You reply instantly and Bucky raises an eyebrow. You’re way too eager to hide whatever is moving on your bed.

 “Babe?”

 “Yes?” You look at him.

 He rolls his eyes and walks around you. You scramble up to stop him but Sam catches you around the waist. Bucky rips the comforter off the bed to reveal five dogs. He stares, completely dumbfounded. 

 “This isn’t what it looks like!!” You shout and they both look at you. “Surprise.” You mumble weakly. 

 God love you. 

 “Where did you get five dogs?”

 Your eyes widen as you look at them. “Shit!! I’m missing two!” You wiggle free and open the closet door, letting the poor dog free. 

 “Now one, right?” Sam asks and you shake your head, scratching the pupper’s ears. He licks your face happily, already loving you.

 “You got eight dogs?” Bucky asks incredulously.

 “I had to! Help me find them?” You bat your eyelashes at him and he groans. 

 “Fine. But then they’re going back.” He says, heading down the stairs. 

 “Bucky, no!” You rush after him. 

 “Sweetheart, we can’t keep eight dogs.” He says, his sentence trailing off as he looks around the living room, his favorite blue jacket inching along the floor. 

 “We have to.” You insist, heading for the coat. Just as you’re about to pick it up, a small head pokes out the end of the sleeve. He looks around and up at you, and you can see his tail wagging happily under the coat. 

 “Why do we have to?” Bucky asks as you free the doggo from the coat and scoop him up in your arms.

 “Because no one else took them and they reached the end of their time in the shelter.” You say, your voice wavering slightly. You nuzzle your face into the soft fur and Bucky sighs.

 How is he supposed to tell you no when you’re crying?

 “Sam, you want a dog or two?” Bucky offers.

 “You’re still missing one.” Sam reminds him. 

 “We were in the kitchen.” You offer and Bucky makes his way in there, looking around. He hears a scraping noise in one of the lower cabinets and he opens the door where the big stand mixer is. There’s a small dog sitting in the big bowl, just looking at him with the most trusting brown eyes he’s ever seen. He lets out a laugh and twists the bowl free. 

 “Found him.” He calls. He makes his way back into the living room, carrying the bowl with the little head poking out. Little dude is just along for the ride. 

 “Hi, handsome!” You scratch his ears happily. 

 Bucky looks around at your new friends, and he’s seeing the things that made you want to take them in the first place. 

 One dog is missing a leg, another is going blind. A few are older, the grey in their whiskers standing out against their dark fur. They’ve been abandoned, discarded for not being babies, or being broken, maybe too rambunctious. But you, you see the beauty in everything. Even the broken souls around you. 

 “Okay.” He says, looking from the dogs to you. 

 “Yeah?” You clasp your hands together around the furball in your arms. 

 “Yeah.” He turns to Sam. “Sorry, offer’s been rescinded.” He says, running his fingers through the soft fur. 

 “Damn, I like this little guy.” He says, leaning down to scratch one on the belly.

 Bucky looks down at you, his eyes softening as he realizes how rich his life has become. “Any other shelters around here?” He asks, already picturing the building in the back he can construct as a playroom for all the animals you could possibly want.

 Your eyes light up and you barely manage to contain a squeal. “As a matter of fact...”

  Everything Tag List:

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch​ @glide-thru @elliee1497​ @part-time-patronus​ @janeyboo​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @thirstybitchqueen​ @xxloki81xx​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @browngirlmagic​ @geeksareunique​ @nicoleplacee​ @lexshead​ @gambitsqueen​ @sebbbystaaan​ @lokisironthrone​ @imanuglywombat​ @nea90sweetie​

#kas4kwc #mermaidxatxheart-writes #bucky #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #reader insert #fluff

[elatedmarvel]

All Tied Up

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers comes to your rescue.

Work Count: 2k

A/N: Hello! Long time no chat! This was written for @wkemeup​‘s 4k follower celebration! Thank you for hosting this Kas! It was so much fun to write! If you have yet to check her out, go do it! Her stories are always soooooooooo emotional and good. Literally one of the best writers ever! My prompt was “ “Can you stop fidgeting? I’m trying to untie you.”. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hints of sex, talks of having children (in the future)

“Agent, what’s your status?” Steve whispers into his comm, somehow, it still sounds loud and echoes down the hallway.  

He stands in the shadows, trying to hide his giant frame, his eyes flicker to a new location every few seconds. He can’t risk getting caught, especially since he lost communication with you. 

You had told him you were going to acquire the target, and slinked off into the shadows before he could tell you it was a bad idea. Now, here he stands, worried they had captured you. 

Not that you couldn’t handle yourself. It had been a beautiful sight the day you brought Bucky Barnes to his knees when sparring. He swears he saw a few tears in Bucky’s eyes, which of course he vehemently denied. 

Hell, you’ve even taken him down. But usually, you would just bat your eyelashes at him and kiss him till he saw stars before claiming your victory. He doesn’t mind though, getting to kiss you was his consolation prize. 

The comm floods with static noise when he checks it again, never a good sign. Sighing in frustration, he checks his watch. It reads 2:30 PM, 10 minutes past when you said you would check in. 

His gut tells him something is wrong, and it is rarely wrong. Except maybe the one time he had convinced you to eat 4 day old pizza that had been sitting on the island in the common kitchen. He’ll never forget the hours you spent throwing up, crying in a ball, and cursing his name. You still cringe a bit whenever the team orders pizza. 

Sighing and resigned to his fate, he moves as quietly as possible down the hall. He can hear the targets chattering in the next room, noisy for people that were supposed to be discreet, but he hardly blames them, they were able to secure an Avenger. Slowly, he peaks around the corner, trying to hold his breath.

All four hostiles were in the room, too occupied by their tablets to notice him. 2 of them sat with their backs to the open door, the other 2 were huddled in the corner laughing about something or other. Scanning the room, he feels hope blooming in his chest when he doesn’t find you among them.

The common space is the only other place you could be. Tiptoeing across the open doorway, he pauses on the opposite side of the door. The noise is the same, no indication that they heard or saw him pass by. Hoping his luck holds out, he maneuvers almost silently down the rest of the corridor.   

Stepping into the room, he finds you exactly how he thought he would. Hands tied behind your back, legs and torso tied to the chair. Duct tape covers your mouth, and your eyes glower in a deadly manner. It would be almost cute if you weren’t in the middle of a mission. 

“Mmmmm, hmmmm” you hum as you see Steve in the doorway. Your body starts to wriggle about, and Steve is pretty sure you’re gonna knock yourself over if you continue moving with as much vigor as you do.

“Shh, be quiet, you’re gonna give us away with all that noise.” he scolds as he walks closer. He won’t admit it, but he takes great pleasure seeing you struggle against the restraints. And not just because he tries to get you to go to escape training seminars. He bet’s you’ll go with him now. It’s actually an impressive set up, better than he would have expected from the enemy. 

“I’m gonna take off the duct tape, but you have to promise me not to yell.” The cold look you give him makes him chuckle under his breath. You were always so fiesty, one of his favorite pastimes was riling you up. 

The chair starts to scrape against the floor with your thrashing. Finally, he takes pity on you and gently peels the duct tape from your mouth.

“Motherfucker! That hurt!” you whisper yell. He rolls his eyes at that, he knows for a fact that the duct tape was mostly coming off anyways. You had a slobbered all over it, he’s pretty sure, in an attempt to break yourself free. You could never wait for someone else to rescue you, it takes a few seconds to remember the last time you needed help on a mission was. 

“You’ve been shot before.” he reminds you as he kneels down in front of you, quickly he releases your right foot. It almost kicks him in the face before he jerks out of the way in the last second. 

“Finally!” you shout, and wiggle the foot around. “My feet have been asleep for 10 mins now.” You stomp the foot on the ground now, trying to release the static feeling. 

“Maybe if you listened to me, you wouldn’t be in this position.” Steve says, smirking up at you as he unties your left foot. This time, your foot hits him square in the chest. 

“Shut up Rogers, you know you loved me tied up.” you wink. His cheeks feel warm and he thinks about things other than you naked and tied to the headboard of your shared bed. The thought of Bucky and Sam’s last attempt in the kitchen takes care of his problem. 

Clearing his throat, he slides on his knees behind the chair. Both your hands were tied together and your torso was tied to the chair. Knowing you would jump free the moment your torso was free, he grabs your hands to work on the knot first. It would be a disaster if you went running around with your hands tied together, trying to take down the hostiles. 

The chair keeps moving with your excessive wiggling, making his hands slip from the surprisingly sturdy knot. If this wasn’t time sensitive, he would have let you struggle a while longer, just to see how long it would take you to get yourself out of the mess. 

“Can you stop fidgeting? I’m trying to untie you.” Steve reprimands and gives a slight tug on your restraints. 

You stick your tongue out, but realize he can’t see it from behind you. Instead, a middle finger on both hands proudly stands out from behind your back. A smirk finds its way onto his face as he sees them and swats the fingers away. 

“Be nice.” he breathes close to your ear, tugging one last time to get your hands free. The shiver that ran down your spine as you remember when those exact words were last said. With him on top of you as he kisses every part of your body. Sweaty body on sweaty body, moving together towards the grand release. You reprimand yourself in your head, you promised yourself you wouldn't turn into someone that daydreamed about her boyfriend over everything else. Mission now, sex later.  

“I’m always nice.” you reply, struggling out of the torso restraints harder now that Steve has untied your hands. The sound of disbelief escapes him before he can trap it, many examples come to mind, almost making him laugh if he wasn’t trying to be discreet and quiet.

Your breath gets knocked out of you for a second as you accidentally choke yourself trying to get free. With a small “hum”, you finally fall complacent and let Steve work on the final knot in peace. 

A minute, maybe two passes by before you feel the ropes slack. The moment you do, you jump up, giving a victorious cry and shove the chair back with your knees. Steve gets up in the exact moment, and misses catching the chair by a millisecond. 

Blue eyes meet your wild, shocked ones as the sound echoes throughout the hallways. He can hear the moment the rascals register what the sound was, as they frantically run out of the room. 

With nowhere left to run, Steve shifts slightly in front of you, preparing himself for the battle he knows is to come. 

“No!” they scream as they stampede into the common room. 

“We tied you up so good!” Morgan Stark yells, running at full speed straight into Steve’s arms. 

“We even used the heavy duty rope we found in Uncle Tony’s lab.” Lila Barton states as she jumps and climbs up Steve’s legs. With both girls in Steve’s arms, they start talking a minute a mile about how they need to change the tactic next time. 

Nathaniel rubs his eyes sleepily as he walks into the room, almost an exact replica of Clint after a long mission, and holds out his arms, silently begging to be picked up. You take pity on the young boy and swipe him into your arms, holding him almost like you would a newborn baby. 

You both giggle a moment, before you right him in your arms and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You’ll ignore the drool on your shirt for now.

Only Cooper Barton seems to care about the scene of the crime, and gathers up the rope that limply lays on the ground. 

He takes a handful of rope in both hands and tugs for a moment. Steve swears he murmurs something about using vibranium handcuffs next time. He’ll make an excellent agent one day. 

“So, what do we get for winning? Ice cream?” Morgan asks with a sly smile on her face, gaining Steve’s and your attention. The exact look was copied straight from one Tony Stark, and it shocks Steve just how much she looks like the billionaire. 

Lila nods furiously next to her, and both the boys hum in agreement. 

“Technically, I freed myself. So you didn’t win.” you counter. Steve snorts at your comment, and you stick you tongue out at him. 

“Right, the knots magically slipped away. Not like I had anything to do with it” he counters. The girls giggle, and you shoot them your best mean face. 

“You’re on my team, and my boyfriend so that’s allowed.” you explain, slightly swaying side to side with a sleepy Nathaniel. You hope if you sway enough, he’ll fall asleep and that’ll be one less kid hyped up on sugar running around. 

“I think we earned the ice cream by simply being able to capture you and tie you up.” Cooper bargains, a huge grin on his face. The girls nod furiously at the statement, and even Nathaniel gives a weak noise of approval.

You lock eyes with Steve once more, you were both pretty sure this was how it was going to end anyways, but you always wanted to be on the same page as him. He nods slightly, and his lips curl up so minutely, you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn't spent hours staring at his beautiful face.   

“Fine, but only one scoop.” you finally give in. 

The resounding scream of happiness they give out nearly deafens you. The girls scramble down from Steve’s arms, desperate to get to the kitchen. Even Nathaniel perks up from your arms, and wiggles his way down. Taking his brother’s hand, they follow the girls to reap their prize. 

“I can’t believe they actually managed to tie you down, we were supposed to be babysitting them.” Steve chuckles as he swings an arm around your shoulder and leads you to the kitchen.

“In my defense, you can’t kick and punch wards in your charge, so I let them.” you say and give his butt a pinch. 

He jolts away from you momentarily before laughing and spinning you in front of him. Lips drawn to yours, he kisses you slow and happy before moving away and pecking other parts of your face. 

“Stop,” you laugh, “you’re getting your spit on me.”

“You’ve never complained before.” he smirks at you, and laughs when your cheeks grow warmer. Giving you one last kiss, he takes your hand and drags you to the kitchen. 

It’s hard for his mind not to wonder what it would be like if this wasn’t babysitting. If this was really his everyday life, kids and a wonderful kick ass wife to share his days with. 

Would the kid have his eyes and your face? Maybe the serum would counteract the sickly boy he once was. He knows for certain that if he had one kid, he would want another. Being an only child, Bucky was his only savior for boredom and love after his mom passed away. 

As if you could read his mind, you rub your thumb across the back of his hand, catching his attention. 

“I’m glad Clint and Tony asked us to babysit, good practice for when we have some.” you smile at him. His heart races when he sees the excitement in his eyes. That’s just how you were, you complimented him perfectly. 

“Yeah?” he asks, elation growing in his body the more he thinks about his future with you.

“Yeah” you nod. Smile growing as wide as your face.

Steve leans in slowly, eyes still alight with joy and takes your face in his massive hands. The breath in your body leaves you for a moment, seeing the happiness in Steve Rogers is all you ever wanted. Having a front row seat was sometimes too much. 

Before your lips can touch, a shatter rings from the kitchen, shortly followed by a scream. A laugh leaves his mouth as he pulls you in for a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

“I didn’t do it!” little voices yell, and it makes the both of you chuckle even more. 

You bury your head into his chest as he yells out that you are both coming and to stay where they are.

“We probably need more practice though before we have our own.” you say as you look up at him. 

“Ours will be more well behaved than that right?” he asks back, unfolding you from his arms and walking towards the kitchen.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” you laugh.

The second crash and screams makes you both lightly job towards the commotion. 

As he watches you calm down a crying Nathaniel and Lila while mopping up the spilled ice cream, his heart feels so full it could burst.

He can’t wait to share in the chaos of life with you.

~~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Always open to comments and feedback!

#kas4kwc #Steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve fan fiction #steve fan fic #steve rogers fan fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic

[bobgasm]

lieutenant smoulder masterlist

BUCKY BARNES X READER

FIREFIGHTER!AU

summary: in which they get along like a house on fire – when they’re not trying to kill each other prompt: “i was made for you” | @wkemeup​ 4k writing challenge warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, nsfw [18+ only], previous lovers to enemies to friends to lovers, descriptions of pain, burning, loss word count: [tbd]

author’s note: i joined another challenge but have an inability to write bucky in canon so have another au. i don’t do tags

ongoing | masterlist

01: alight 02: blaze 03: combustion 04: devour ↳4.5: incandescence 05: embers 06: flare 07: glow 08: hearth 09: inferno 10: luminosity 11: pyre 12: scorching 13: sparks 14: tinder 15: warmth

other content:

♫ playlist

moodboard by me

#kas4kwc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #firefighter!bucky #firefighter!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #*lieutenant smoulder

[wkemeup]

Kas’ 4k Writing Challenge Master List!

Thank you so much to all the lovely writers who participated in this! This was my first ever writing challenge and I had such a fun time coming up with prompts and songs and reading all your incredible interpretations (some I honestly never would I thought of when I wrote the prompt)! I’ll definitely do another in the future so be on the lookout 😊

This master list will continue to update as writers post their challenge submissions so make sure to come back and check out ones you may have missed!

x Kas 

🌻Fics are ordered by publishing date (earliest at the top with new fics added to the end of the post as they’re submitted) Happy reading! 🌻

⇢ Hidden Beneath This Skin (Bucky Barnes) - @wintersoeldiers​​

⇢ Of Knowing (Bucky Barnes) - @marvelous-avengers​​​

⇢ Broken Heart (Steve Rogers) - @crispychrissy​​​​

⇢ Guess What’s On Your Mind (Bucky Barnes) - @tellmealovestory​​​

⇢ Lieutenant Smoulder (Bucky Barnes) - @baezen​​​​

⇢ No Take Backs (Steve Rogers) - @notyetneedcoffee​​​

⇢ NYC | FAR FROM HOME (Bucky Barnes) - @whistlingwillows​​

⇢ A Matter of Trust (Steve Rogers) - @anika-ann​​​​

⇢ Surprise (Bucky Barnes) - @mermaidxatxheart​​​​

⇢ The Proposal (Bucky Barnes) - @tropicalcap​​

⇢ Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: You Can’t Kid a Kiddo (Steve Rogers) - @what-is-your-plan-today​​

⇢ Right Where You Are, That’s Where I am (Bucky Barnes) - @corneliabarnes​​

⇢ A Simple Extraction (Steve Rogers) - @stuckonjbbarnes​​​​

⇢ Better (T’Challa) - @tarithenurse​​

⇢ Not Who We Used to Be (Bucky Barnes) - @xbuchananbarnes​​

⇢ “Give Me the Keys” (Thor Odinson) - @oplunket16​​

⇢ Caught in your Fire (Bucky Barnes) - @sgtjbuccky​​

⇢ All Ties Up (Steve Rogers) - @elatedmarvel​​​

⇢ From the Ashes (Bucky Barnes) - @flowerymoonlight​​​

⇢ Old Fashion Love (Bucky Barnes) - @angrybirdcr​

⇢ Call It What It Is (Loki) - @lailannajacobs​

⇢ Hope (Bucky Barnes) - @captainscanadian​ 

⇢ Are You Leaving My Love Behind? (Bucky Barnes) - @buckthegrump​

⇢ Just Us Two (Sam Wilson) - @nacho-bucky​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #Steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #thor x reader #t'challa x reader #writing challenge masterlist #kas4kwc #loki x reader

[lailannajacobs]

Call it What it is

Pairing: Loki x reader 

Summary: You and Loki never got along. Yet it doesn’t seem to change the way these missions always end. 

Warnings: Just a whole lotta fluff coming your way! 

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: This is my entry for the lovely @wkemeup​ 4k challenge! Congrats love you deserve all the love and more, thank you for letting me participate! Was a blast to write Loki again! Hope you enjoy! <3 

You stumbled, heart racing, but forced yourself to keep running. A shot zinged by your head, missing you by millimetres as it splintered into the brick wall to your left, spitting bits of rock across the alley. You ducked, shielding your face with your with your arm, refusing to slow as you were pelted with the debris. There wasn’t time. If you stopped now, you were dead. Or worse.

Your heart was a hammer in your chest trying to pound its way out, and your whole body screamed at you to stop, your mouth filling with the coppery tang of blood. Only your adrenaline kept you going, each breath harder than the last. So much for taking it easy on your first mission back.

Another blast obliterated all your thoughts and you moved on instinct, swerving to narrowly avoid the bullet aimed at your head. If your leg hadn’t been in a world of pain, you would have turned and fired off a few shots of your own, but you couldn’t risk your leg giving out. Your limp meant that they were gaining on you, and you couldn’t afford to slow down, even if it was to potentially kill one of the Hydra agents on your tail.

You skidded around the corner, praying that the alley wouldn’t lead to a dead end, dooming you to a shootout where the odds would be in their favour, six to one. It was nothing more than a fluke that you could keep going. You had no plan anymore, relying on instinct and luck from the moment your mission had been blown to bits twenty minutes ago. Someone had sold you out. You had walked into a trap, thinking the Hydra buyers had no clue you were really S.H.I.E.L.D. It was a miracle you had made it out, an explosive having gone off that wasn’t one of your own, providing just enough cover to make an escape. You had no idea who the hell had sold you out, but you couldn’t worry about it now. Not as you pushed over trash cans, hoping to create some sort of obstacle, no matter how pathetic.

Whirling around the next corner, you stumbled to a stop at the ten-foot chainlink fence blocking your escape. You swore. Your luck had run out. There was no way you could make it up and over with your leg in the state it was in. You scanned the alley, desperate for an escape that didn’t involve a shootout. Other than the large garbage container, the only other thing around was a beat up Tercel that was too far from the fence to use as an easy way over. You forced yourself to stay calm even if their echoing footsteps were getting closer. Then you noticed him. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other, shrouded in the shadows as if he controlled them.

You whipped your dagger at him, knowing there was no faster way of knowing if what you saw was an illusion or if it was real. The chances of him actually being here were high enough that it was worth the risk of losing one of the many knives you had tucked into the folds of your combat suit.

With ease that wasn’t human, his hand snapped up, snatching the dagger from burying itself in his chest.

“You weren’t cleared for duty,” Loki remarked, his eyes dropping to your leg.

You ignored the pointed look, grabbing your gun and aiming it at the corner where the Hydra agents were mere seconds away from turning, “What? Annoyed you got called in on your day off?”

He twirled your dagger between his fingers, pushing off the wall without a word. You didn’t spare him more than a glance as you approached him, only needing to know he was by your side.

You sucked in a breath of surprise when his hand slid along your thigh, placing the dagger into your thigh holster.

“You’ll need it more than I will,” He crooned.

“That’s only because I can’t conjure more every time I lose one. Like some people I know,” You retorted, firing two shots as the first Hydra agent rounded the corner.

He crumpled to the ground, no longer moving, and you waited for the others, knowing they’d now be smarter about how they approached.

“There are five others.” You warned.

You didn’t have to tear your eyes away from the alley to know he had rolled his eyes, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Just do your job and make sure we don’t die.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” He drawled, “Dying doesn’t take with me, darling.”

You adjusted your grip on the gun, “Fine. Then make sure I don’t die.”

“I thought you were capable of doing that yourself.”

A rain of fire came down on the two of you, and you dove behind the dumpster, dragging the God of Mischief with you. You leaned your back against the bin, the alley deafening with the blasts of gun shots.

“You’re hit.”

“What?” You fired around the corner, a cry letting you know you’d hit something you’d been hoping to.

You were about to fire off another round when Loki stopped you, the pressure of his fingers hurting far more than it should have, “Your arm.”

“What?” You looked down. Your combat suit was soaked with blood, but it looked like the shot hadn’t done more than graze you, “That’s what happens when you spend more time sassing me than watching my back.”

“You mortals don’t move fast enough,” He snatched your gun from your hands and fired a few shots of his own.

“Take that into consideration the next time you’re watching my back,” You answered, your voice dripping with venom.

You grabbed your gun back, but he shook his head and motioned toward the middle of the alley.

“Let’s not make things more complicated than they have to be, darling.”

Another series of shots seized your attention and you whirled to see what they were now shooting at. An image of Loki stood in the middle of the alley, a machine gun in its hands, pretending to fire at the three Hydra agents that were left. They had unleashed half of their ammo into the open air when someone yelled to cease fire.

Loki cocked his head in a daring gesture that seemed to ask if you ready.

The final shots echoed when you said, “I’m always ready, asshole.”

The two of you sprung from behind the dumpster, taking them by surprise. Your shots were quick and precise, providing cover for the god as he sprinted forward, knives in each of his hands. With predatory grace, he was death in emerald and black as he moved between the agents, finish the job with terrifying speed.

Loki ripped the dagger from the agent’s body and whirled to face you, “You should not have been on this mission.”

“The medic and Steve cleared me for duty,” You growled, “And this wouldn’t have been a problem if someone hadn’t sold me out. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

He strode towards you, stopping only when he was inches away, “What are you implying, mortal?”

You jutted your chin up, doing your best to look down at him despite the height difference, “Don’t ‘mortal’ me you arrogant witch. I’m asking because you have a penchant for chaos and have ears everywhere.

“Even if that were so,” He refused to confirm anything, darkened eyes searching your face, “Why wouldn’t I have said anything?”

You crossed your arms, brushing against his chest as you did, “I don’t know, Mischief, you have been bored lately.”

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” His voice was a dangerous whisper, void of all emotion, “But I will gladly kill whoever it was.”

You shivered involuntarily, “You can do that later. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

“You’re hurt,” He said to your back as you tried not to limp over to inspect the car for damage.

“Doesn’t matter,” You waved a hand. You were pleased when you saw there were only a few superficial bullet holes, “I’ll take care of it when we get out of here. There’ll be cops within minutes and there might be more of Hydra on their way here right now. There’s a safe house about a half hour drive from here, we can assess what to do from there.”

He said nothing, so you figured he agreed with your plan. With nothing to jimmy the lock, your only solution was to break the window. You were walking over to the driver’s side when the glass shattered. Your gun was out, ready for the threat, but it wasn’t necessary.

“What the hell are you doing?” You yelled over the sound of the alarm.

He raised a brow, his expression pure boredom, “Making sure you don’t break your mortal hand,”

“You didn’t have to be an ass about it,” You smacked him on the shoulder, “Give me a heads up next time.”

He stepped aside and you shot him a confused look, “What are you doing?”

“Giving you the chance to prove yourself, mortal.”

You swore and got in, your leg and arm feeling like an old elastic being stretched too far. You shouldn’t have been the one to do this. But the pain from the crouched position and the sound of sirens made it that you hotwired the car faster than you ever had and you tore out of the alley. A cop car raced down in the opposite direction as you pulled onto the street, and your heart lodged itself in your throat. You didn’t need the police on your tail as well as Hydra. Cops didn’t take kindly to dead bodies, even if they were Hydra and had been trying to kill you. Steve was already going to be pissed about such public murders, you didn’t need cops added to the equation.

“Mask the licence plate with a different set of numbers” You ordered, “When go through the tunnel, mask it again with a different set.”

Loki didn’t answer but you knew he would do it. The rest of the ride was silent until you made it far enough out of the city that your adrenaline had made way for anger.

“Can you explain to me why the hell you thought it was necessary to break that window if you weren’t planning on starting the car yourself?” You snarled, “And don’t you dare give me that mortal bullshit. I know you don’t actually care about my hand.”

You had cut it too close getting out of that alley. Setting off that alarm early hadn’t done anything other than alert the cops. Nothing about what had happened made any sense to you and the only thing you could think was that his stupidity could have had far more serious consequences.

“It adds a little excitement,” He chuckled.

“Dammit, Loki,” Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel, “Was it your plan to get me killed?”

He waved a hand, “Stop complaining. You’re fine, darling.”

“You should have hotwired the car yourself.”  

“I preferred not to.”

You sucked in a few deep breaths, counting down your inhales and exhales until all you felt was something that might have been disappointment, “I knew you were reckless and dangerous, but for christ’s sake Loki, you’re not supposed to be a danger to me.”  

There was a long pause, the soft drone of the weather update on the radio filling the silence.

“I can’t,” He muttered, his voice barely audible.

You tore your eyes from the road to spare him a glance, but all you saw was the emotionless mask he wore more often than not, “You can’t what?”

Another long pause, “Hot wire the car.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean you can’t hotwire a car?”

He clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“You can’t be serious?” Despite trying your hardest, you couldn’t fight the smile on your face. Didn’t want to, and a laugh bubbled out. This was the best news you’d had all day. “I’ve seen you do stuff ten times more complicated, but this? Really?”

“Midgaridan transport is crude,” He scowled, “Ask me to hot wire a ship instead.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time we’re in space,” You said, laughing.

The rest of the ride was silent, though you were in a much better mood. And although your arm and leg were throbbing, the knowledge that Loki couldn’t hot wire a car, made it easier to ignore.

You pulled into the driveway, thankful that the drive to the safe house had gone off without a hitch. At least one part of your day hadn’t been a complete bust. You knew if there was anyone you could relay the intel from your mission to it was the Avengers, but the safe house was a better place to lay low, considering you were now someone’s loose end. Walking into the compound could be like walking into a death trap. And there were so many safe houses, and only so many people who knew all of the locations, that being here instead bought you more time to think.

You shut the car door behind you, trying to shut away the million worries running through your mind. You’d take care of your injuries, eat and then figure it all out.

Following Loki up the stairs to the cabin, you couldn’t help but smile once again and try your best not to burst out laughing. When he turned to let you unlock the door - to use the keypad he didn’t have clearance for - he noticed your grin and his eyes darkened.

“I don’t appreciate being laughed at, mortal.”

You groaned, “Again with this mortal crap. Get over it.”

“It is what you are”

You shoved past him to punch in the code, “Doesn’t mean I can’t still put you in your place.”

He put a hand on the doorframe, boxing you in, “Choose your next words very carefully,”

“Why should I?” Turning, you looked up at him with a raised brow, “What are you going to do about it, Loki?”

He stepped forward and you backed up into the door, nowhere else to go.

“Do you want to risk finding out, darling?” He purred.

Tilting your head back, you held his stare, “Try me.”

His emerald eyes darkened, boring into yours. The tension between your bodies was electric and you refused to back down first. He leaned even closer in response to the wordless dare, and your breathing shallowed.

“My point exactly,” You rasped when nothing happened.  

As if your words had broken the spell, his lips smashed against yours, pushing your further into the door as he pressed his body up against yours. You buried your hands in his hair pulling him even closer. He answered with a moan, hands sliding from your jaw, down your neck and all the way down until to your waist. His mouth was rough on yours, taking what he wanted. But you were no gentler on him, demanding entrance with your tongue. He immediately took the lead, a battle of wills neither of you was winning.

A high pitch trill and the vibration in your pocket let you know that someone was calling you.

You pushed him away and pulled out your phone, Steve’s number flashing across the screen.

“We have to stop doing this,” You snapped, ripping open the door and answering the call.

“I can, darling,” Loki crooned with a wolfish grin, just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of Steve’s voice in your ear, “Can you?”

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #kas4kwc #Loki Laufeyson #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #fan fiction #loki x reader #fanfic #loki x you

[anika-ann]

A Matter of Trust

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 5470 (oops)

Summary: You and Steve get to go to a mission together after a while; free drinks, partying, dressing-up nicely, stealing blueprints, the usual. You might even enjoy this as a couple.

Or… not really. Of course something would go awry. What else did you expect when wearing these killer heels anyway?

A/N: Written for or @wkemeup​’s 4k writing challenge; congratulations! Well-deserved, no arguing here; shall the number continue to grow ;) Thank you for letting me participate!

Prompt: “Get in the closet, now!” (bold in the text)

Warnings: suggestive language, mentions of a kink, objectification, gun violence (brief), swearing (always), attempt at humour, fluff…?

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

In your whole history as an operative of S.H.I.E.L.D. slash Avenger, time had never dragged so slowly as it did at this party.

Not even Steve’s presence cheered you up, mostly because he was busying himself with being everyone’s company but yours despite you two coming here together. For a mission. To work, you reminded yourself.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been there for the plan-making which had resulted in mutual agreement of Steve falling into the role of an honourable man whose infamous good nature prevented him from saying no to anyone who asked for a moment with him even if it meant leaving you alone. Which you supposedly mind, because you were here with him only to sneak in here and possibly get your five minutes of glory if he stood by your side long enough

And that was only an act for people who would have noticed you had arrived together.

For the others, you simply attended the party – a known cover-up for a place of business in arms-deal among the powerful men of the underground world – to have fun and seduce some rich businessman.

Sipping from the very same glass of champagne you had helped yourself with about an hour ago, you scanned the room in the search for the big boss. No, not Steve, but the man of the hour, the one whose blueprints you were meant to steal. The blueprints of a potentially large bomb that could kill tens of thousands if it went kaboom and released the nanoparticles of a dangerous virus to the air.

Lovely. Someone clearly had too much time on their hands coming up with crap like that only to make your life miserable.

“What’s a gorgeous lady like yourself doing at this party alone?” a velvety voice interrupted your dark musing and you vainly tried to cover the shudder running down your spine, cursing at the heat curling in your stomach.

Was this how he was talking to all the women who were throwing themselves at him tonight? Probably.

Had you been through that before? Yes.

Had you expected it to happen tonight? Sadly, yeah.

Was it bothering you? Hell the fuck yeah, even if you knew it shouldn’t and that it didn’t mean anything but Steve doing his job right.

You cursed mentally at your weakness and sighed out loud, spinning around to face the man.

“Waiting for a bulky blond supersoldier to come save her, naturally,” you hissed back, hating yourself for letting your jealously get the better of you.

Steve had never ever made you as much as doubt that you were the one for him, but that green bitch of an emotion still intruded on you tonight. You blamed the upcoming visit from aunt flow and the rush of hormones arriving with it and the fact you were itching to leave and go home just for getting rid of those ridiculously high heels alone.

You usually enjoyed wearing high heels, they gave you confidence as gazes of many men and women followed you, but the stilettos you had got chosen tonight could be used as murder weapon.

Ha, maybe you could try and sell them here, you’d make a fortune!

A frown appeared on Steve’s face, one of curiosity, regret and surprise when he registered your irritated tone.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded quietly, whispering to your ear intimately, only making the situation worse.

“You shouldn’t be talking to me, Captain Rogers. You’ll blow it.”

His eyebrow jumped ridiculously high and you realized what you said; you groaned both at his cheekiness and your stupidity.

“Blow our cover. Get your mind out of the gutter…” you muttered, putting some distance between the two of you for the sake of the cover.

“Maybe I’m feeling a bit reckless tonight,” he hummed back, his large palm resting on your lower back and you had to take a moment to swallow the blissful groan at his gesture. You loved his hands and the heels were not only killing your feet, but also you back, and the warmth radiating from his skin felt like heaven. “But seriously, are you okay?”

“You could have asked through the comm.”

“I wanted to check up on you personally.  So?” he insisted and you couldn’t but sigh again, finishing your glass of champagne when you spotted Wagner, aka your target. You stepped away from Steve.

“Just tired. Want this to be over with. Go mingle, Steven.”

Pausing when you took a note of the harshness in your tone, you found his concerned gaze over your shoulder, whispering as softly as you could: “Thank you for your concern… Captain.”

You caught a glimpse of his discreet lopsided smile before turning away fully.

As you walked into the crowd, your long crimson dress curled around your feet with every step due to the provocative – read practical – slit ending mid-thigh. You hoped that the memory of watching you go would occupy his brain for some time while he talked to the flocks of both male and female admirers.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Two hours. It took you another two hours to ensure you’d be safe sneaking into the Wagner’s office slash bedroom.

Of course his bureau would be his bedroom; men like him knew nothing about good old sleep hygiene, because the thought of their money distracted them from the evil they were doing to the world and had them sleeping like babies.

Using the key-card you had snatched about three minutes ago, you easily entered the over-decorated room.

Looks like someone’s compensating for something, you noted mentally, not losing any time and activating the no-prints mode on your gloves; one of the perks of working with Tony Stark. You were wearing the nanotech the whole evening and no one had a clue, because the particles were imitating your skin. You’d leave a print on the glass of champagne if you wanted; if you planned on rummaging someone else’s office, leaving a trace was a different case and you wouldn’t take any risks.

Systematically starting on the right from the door and working your way through everything that looked even remotely like a possible hideout, you didn’t forget to gingerly place your palm over the wall-length closet so Friday could run scans.

God, you loved that Tony Stark was on the side of the angels despite not quite being one himself; according to him at least.

“No signs of anything else than overpriced shirts, tuxedos and sets for dom-sub play,” the AI announced, barely audible, and you cringed. Not what you needed to know. “Cuffs are men’s size. Dominatrix set for a wom-“

“Enough, enough! Gee, Friday…” you muttered under your breath, not liking the visual of Wagner in the middle of enjoying-

Gross.

“No need for that much detail…”

Shaking your head, you moved onto the desk; an obvious, perhaps too obvious choice, which was why you wouldn’t place your bet on it. But hey, you could never be sure enough until you checked.

The sudden noise on your right had you drawing your gun at instant, your pulse skyrocketing.

The first thing you saw was a large frame of the newcomer and neatly combed blond hair. Your shoulders slumped.

Steve raised his hands as he moved from the doorway to stand inside, his face visibly relaxing at the sight of you searching another man’s desk.

The door clicked shut behind him and you forced yourself to breathe in, shoving your gun back to the holster placed on your covered thigh.

“Jesus, Steve!” you whisper-yelled exasperatedly and resumed your inspection, paying him no mind anymore. You had more important things to do at the moment; not that you wouldn’t do him; Steve in a tux was sight to behold, like hold onto THAT, literally get your hands on it, but you were here for a job.

“You weren’t responding!” Steve replied in the same manner, causing you to freeze.

He had been trying to contact you? And you couldn’t hear him? But-

“Oh,” you let out intelligently, doing the math easily. “He must have some sort of a jammer in here, makes sense.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I’m fine,” you stated, shutting one drawer, opening another. “How did you even ge– never mind. You should go-“

“Don’t wanna cloooose my eyeees!”

The distant howl-like shout from the hall turned your blood into ice, your eyes widening.

You had studied Wagner the whole evening; you’d recognize his voice anywhere, even when he was singing ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ out of tune.

“-before THAT happens! Shit!”

As you pulled out your phone, the live-feed from the camera in the hall offered you a marvellous view.

Two gorilla-men were dragging Wagner towards his room as his feet barely kept him standing. Gorilla number three was walking behind them just in case that their boss’ face decided to meet the floor despite the support offered to him.

Shit, shit, SHIT-

Closing the drawer you were currently scouring, lips pressed into a tight line, you eyed Steve; he was already bracing himself for the fight, caught in the middle of the process of discarding the jacket to have wider range of movements.

You whined internally – firstly, what a sight, it would always make you weak in knees no matter what. Secondly, if this was to end in a fight, the chances were that you’d make it out without the plans and you had spent the night in those killer heels for nothing.

Oh no, you don’t-

“Cause I’d miss ya’ BABY—I don’t wanna miss a THIIIIING!”

Scanning the room once more, your mind running hundred miles a minute, your gaze fell on the huge-ass closet of which contents you had learned more than you’d like to.

Your lips parted in surprise at the plan forming in your own head.

This is a terrible idea.

It’s yours!

Exactly.

Yeah, okay, fair enough-

NO TIME TO COME UP WITH A BETTER ONE-

Steve was kind enough to follow when you grabbed his arm and pulled him from his spot in the middle of the room, though he did shoot you an utterly confused look.

You met his eyes and gulped when the singing approached the room way too quickly to your liking.

“STILL MISS YA’ BABY–“

“I need you to trust me now,” you pleaded in hushed tone, seeing Steve’s pupils go wide, covering the somewhat always warm blue of his irises.

“With what?”

Well, he asked for it.

“Get in the closet, now!”

A second of shocked silence followed your request before his brain made the connection and a scowl twisted his handsome face.

“What? No! I’m not leaving you alone to face them!” he raised his voice minutely and you covered his mouth to remind him that there were ears present, inching closer with each second passing.

“DON’T WANNA FAAAAALL ASLEEEEEEP-!”

“That’s exactly what you’ll do! That’s easier to play off.”

Steve very much not agreed if his eyes flashing with anger were anything to go by. His hand pushed yours away as he towered over you.

“I’m not leaving-“

“Look at the gorillas, Steve!” you shoved the phone to his face, unlocking the closet and throwing its door open. “One word from them to the rest of security and we’re screwed. Get in!”  

Something between a whine, a groan and a growl – neither of those sounds sexy given the circumstances – escaped his lips and you assumed he had to admit to himself that you were right.

Taking a mental note of his resistance diminishing, you easily pushed him towards the limited dark space.

“CAUSE EEEEEVEN WHEN I DREAM OF YOOOOOOOU- THE SWEETEST DREAM WILL NEEEVER DOOOOOO-“

“We can still play it off toge-“ he tried to protest one more time but you pushed against his chest adamantly.

“And say what? This isn’t what it looks like? We just happened to choose your office to get freaky? I’ll handle it. Trust me.”

Steve gave you his unfairly disarming pleading look, his puppy eyesTM, but backed into the closet without another word, clutching his previously stripped jacket to his chest, because he did trust you.

Fingers on the handle, you hesitated when you realized what could ruin the charade you came up with and planned on pulling off.

Swallowing hard at the terrible idea, you gave Steve a tiny encouraging smile as you drew your gun and three knives from your leg holster/sheath and pressed it to his hands.

“Hold these for me.”

Swiftly closing the door, the last thing you saw was the horror on his face.

As the door swung open and you spun on your heels, he had no chance to react.

The loud song which had been reaching your ears for seemingly endless time died on Wagner’s lips and the third extra gorilla of a man behind him instantly pulled out his gun.

And aimed it right at your face. While you had nothing to defend yourself but your bare hands.

Yay.

“Who are you?!” he thundered and like a charm, Wagner stood straight so the other two guards could have you at gunpoint as well.

Yet, what sent an unpleasant shiver through you was Wagner’s sleazy eyes travelling from your killer heels to your ankles, up to your partly exposed thigh, your waist and finally settling on your cleavage, not bothering to make it higher to look into your eyes.

So. He’s a pig. Shocker.

For once, you were grateful. Not that he was supposed to know that.

A sweet innocent smile spread on your lips as you eyed the weapons with what seemed to be almost a satisfaction, you hoped.

“A government agent, of course,” you said, voice pitched just a bit higher than usual. You felt a bit sorry for Steve at the moment; you were well-aware of nearly giving him a heart attack by saying that. “I work with Captain America.” Scratch the ‘nearly’. Poor Steve’s heart. “I was given the task to scour this place… very… thoroughly.”

Your tone husky now, your teeth bit down on your lower lip, your eyes watching Wagner with faked interest. He hypnotized your red lips before shaking his head as if snapping from a haze.

“They told me you’ve been a bad, bad man. I kept my eye on you all evening,” you admitted, not even having to lie.

The following smile you sent his direction was perhaps too predatory, but that could work. For him anyway.

“Who do you work for?!”

The guards were not as easily fooled as their drunk boss apparently; then again, you hadn’t expected them to.  

“Oh. A.R.M.O.R. America-Related Manpower Operatives and Reinforcements.” God bless their hearts if they were going to buy that, seeing you were obviously trying to imitate the SHIEILD acronym. Very poorly. Playing it up, you let a giggle escape you before your expression turned serious, guilty even. “Oh. Probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s only my first time, you see. I finished my training few days ago.”

“Mm… look at ‘dat…” Wagner drawled and nope, it had nothing on the way Steve spoke when his accent peeked through while he was drunk on Asgardian liquor or lust alone.

Not relevant.

Wagner waved off his guard dogs, gesturing to one of them to approach you. “Why don’t we search you first?”

“Make it quick. I have…” you let your eyes trail over Wagner’s body, licking your lips when visibly lingering on his crotch, “more important tasks at hand. I came here for a mission. I’d like it to… finish.”

Two men instantly went to inspect you, patting you from the back, from the front, up and down, way longer and more thoroughly than necessary.

And they found what they were looking for.

One large palm harshly slipped between your thighs and you closed your eyes, willing yourself not to throw up at the pawing.

Gorilla One’s head snapping up to you, he pulled out the only weapon left on you, handing it to his boss and Gorilla Two grabbed your wrists and locked it behind your back, causing you to nearly hiss in pain.

“Oops,” you shrugged instead, burning gaze locked onto the man who was holding both your weapon and your life in his hands.

Your heart was beating frantically in anticipation, your confidence wavering as Wagner inspected the knife.

A slow smile spread on his face, his left eyebrow rising and then he finally, finally burst out laughing.

A confused ‘what’ sounded from behind you as the man’s utterly smashed boss howled in hysterical laughter.

“This—this is GOL-DEN!” he choked out, tossing the item to the very man who had handed it to him.

“It’s a stage-prop,” Gorilla One sighed.

And that it was. Thank you, Natasha Romanoff.

“Oh. So it’s fake.”

“Told you I have more important things at hand… so if—my hands could find some release please…” you asked sweetly over your shoulder. The very next second, you remembered just what was in the closet; and you weren’t thinking Steve. So you switched tactics. “That’s an order, actually. Let. Me. Go.”

“What the agent said, Greg,” Wagner beckoned, still chuckling, a new twinkle appearing in his eye, his face free of mistrust. Gorilla Two, Greg apparently, released your hands with reluctance. You didn’t bother thanking him. “And let her work. Off you go.”

When the gorillas wavered for few moments, you felt your impatience grow along with the pain shooting up your calves. Damn heels.

“Have you not heard your superior? Do I need to teach you some discipline?”

Wagner licked his lips, taking two wobbly steps towards you. It seemed to seal the deal for the guards, because they left the room.

“Someone went out of their way to get you… Must be my birthday then,” he grinned sleazily, his fingers twitching as if he craved to touch you, his hands stopping few inches from your hip. “I’m all  yours, agent. Why don’t you go on with the… thorough inspection?”

Straightening your posture, chin stuck up, you nodded curtly.

“Of course. Sir, I’ll have to ask you to raise your hands to your head. Don’t move otherwise. I’m gonna feel for weapons now.”

“Yes, madam,” he responded breathlessly, but the second you started the process, his hand landed on your hip.

You stopped in your search, locking serious gaze with him. His pupils were blown, eyes dark with lust. His fingers squeezed, his gaze flickering to your mouth as you stood nearly chest to chest.

“Sir, this is highly inappropriate. I’m gonna have to ask you-“

His palm slid to your bottom, fingers digging into the flesh.

You narrowed your eyes, not even having to pretend you didn’t like that. You slapped his hand away, earning a sly grin. He didn’t try again immediately, which you were endlessly grateful for. Instead, he obediently raised his arms so he looked ready to be either searched or crucified.

Oh, you’d gladly.

“Sorry, Agent, I couldn’t help myself. What is such… pretty face like yourself doing in business like this?” he questioned in a husky voice and at that moment, you knew that your time spent around Tony Stark had taken its toll on you, because you simply couldn’t resist that pass.

“Stealing intel from pricks like you,” you mumbled under your breath, giving him just enough time to realize something was wrong.

A fraction of second later, the edge of your hand hit his throat, bruising his larynx and causing him to release a shocked huff of air. Kicking his knee next, your elbow met his face. A choked groan escaped his lips and you prayed to god he didn’t truly find his voice to call the guards.

You elbowed him in his right temple for a good measure, incapacitating his other knee so he nearly sunk to the floor. You slipped around him in one swift movement; your arm sneaked around his throat and cut out his airways.

Too stunned, he barely fought you and you felt all tension leave his muscles in no time.

Wagner’s body hit the ground as he slipped through your hands despite your best efforts. You winced at the thud shaking the floor; you quickly giggled loudly, playing it off as a drunken fun-time shenanigans. Just in case the guards were still at the door.

Satisfied and relieved when no one burst in with guns blazing, you walked to the closet, losing those damned stilettos on the way.

As soon as you unlocked the closet, Steve nearly hit you with the door when abruptly leaving the limited space. His eyes scanned you head to toe to find any sign of an injury, the flames in his glare fading only a bit when he found none.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” he whisper-yelled and despite the circumstances, you couldn’t but giggle, this time from honest amusement as he proved your earlier thoughts right.

There we go…

“Worked, didn’t it? Now help me since you’re here, he’s fucking heavy…”

Steve gave you an incredulous look, one promising a storm coming once you had the time for it, but he went to pick Wagner’s body up without protest.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Steve was kind enough to have you use the bathroom first, so by the time he emerged – around half past three a.m. – you were already tucked in bed, waiting for him. His feet shuffled against the floor and he seemed utterly spent, as if he had been fighting an army from space.

You had both left the party unharmed; then again, you could imagine that socializing the way he had had to could be as tiring as an alien invasion itself. Also, he had been the one leave Wagner office-bedroom through the window, while you simply walked out of the room, winking at the guards who had indeed stayed by the door.

Steve slipped under the covers and turned off the bedside lamp, the warm light replaced by inviting darkness. Your eyelids felt heavy after the long night and you couldn’t wait to enter the blissful land of sleep.

Having Steve’s arms around you, a pleasant habit of his, you knew you’d be out in no time, but you made the effort to shift further into his embrace, sighing in content and murmuring ‘goodnight’.  

Already halfway out as soon as you closed your eyes, you still registered his arm winding tighter around your waist, his nose pressed to your nape. A deep inhale, then another, warm breath and his lips inching closer with each second.

Pulled out of your slumber, limbs already heavy and yet floaty, half-hearted question left your lips.

“You ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, his foot wedging between yours to pull you impossibly closer, his exhale long and wavering.

The tremble in it alarmed you, urging you to check up on his expression, on him. Willing your body to move, your heart skipped a startled beat when he wouldn’t let you turn around.

“That didn’t sound-“

His fingers wormed its way under your side laid on the mattress, flexing on the flesh of your waist.

“I’m fine….” Bullshit. “It’s just… you have no idea how hard it was to stay put while listening to all that, do you?”

Eyelashes fluttering in surprise, you took in his words, the subtle taste of fear in them, concern for how your abrupt plan could have easily go awry.

You allowed yourself a few moments before responding, forcing your memories, the images of you helplessly lying pinned to the ground after you saw a building explode – a building with Steve still in it – out of your mind.

“I… I think I can imagine. I’m sorry. I came up with an idea and thought it was for the best,” you whispered.

Honestly, you were still convinced that it had been the best thing to do given the circumstances, but that was momentarily beside the point.

“You literally told him you worked with me. I swear to God- I–“

Hearing the shift in his voice, a different emotion interfering – the pure horror, laced with exasperation – you softened your next words even further, running your fingertips over the back of his hand coaxingly.

Without any real hope, you attempted to turn in his firm embrace; this time, he reluctantly let you, your palms instantly trapping his miserable face.

“Hey. Hey, Steve, it’s fine. We handled it. We’re good. I just remembered Friday told me that he was a kinky bastard-“ Steve nudged you at the word and you fought hard the eye-roll he had coming at that “-and decided to use it.”

“You gave me your weapons and went against him empty-handed– never ever do that again,” he demanded, voice equally pleading and firm. You couldn’t help but nudge him back, because in your line of work, promising that technically equalled lying. “If there is any other option.”

You sighed, understanding all too well how he was feeling, willing to promise the latter to ease his mind. And to erase the worried wrinkles on his forehead. You kissed him there, the tension resolving under your loving gesture.

“Noted. I didn’t do that to get off, to have a high.“ Unlike some people, who seemed to do that sometimes. "I promise.”

“I know you didn’t,” Steve said, having the decency to add an edge of guilt to his voice, your verbal call for hypocrisy not going unnoticed. He kissed your left collarbone, tender and greedy, his lips sliding an inch lower to faintly feel your heartbeat and lingering.

“You know me well,“ you stated, running your fingers through his still damp locks, musing. "It’s… nice. Not as scary as I expected once.”

“Thanks…?” he murmured against your skin unsurely and you chuckled, a tired but oh so content sound.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, heavy-lidded eyes boring into yours, finding your lips with his to deliver a lazy but heartfelt kiss, one you felt reaching your very soul.

Shifting so your head was tucked under his chin, you nestled into the most comfortable position possible and Steve hummed into your hair, once more pulling your body against his, not an inch of space left between you. You melted into his warmth and finally, you felt his muscles fully relax as well.

As you once more walked the fine line of dozing off, a sudden thought caused you to snap your eyes open, your heart skipping a curious beat.

“Steve?” An absent hum was his only response, but encouraged by any reaction at all, you continued, knowing that you wouldn’t fall asleep without having the answer. “When you said it was hard… you weren’t referring to a… certain situation of yours, right? … or were you?”

Even with his body turning rigid, a rock-solid prove he was fully awake, he put effort into sounding sleepy.

“Just go to sleep, woman.”

“…were you?! Do you want me to… do some thorough inspection of y-“ you teased, fascinated, never finishing your thought as Steve’s large palm covered your mouth.

You resisted the urge to release the surprised laugh bubbling in your chest. It wasn’t that you thought Steve’s desire was ridiculous; you were just that amazed that it never came up; a true wonder given your line of work.

Momentarily incapacitated, you didn’t speak, but grazed your teeth over his palm so he would release you.

“Hush!”

“ ’khay-“ You muttered and he removed his palm, sleepy blue watching you in warning. You strained your neck to kiss the previously teased skin of his hand. “We’ll explore that another time. I’m beat. Still love you. Goodnight.”

With that, you curled back into his body, feeling the wide expand of his chest followed by an exasperated puff.

“Goodnight, you maniac. I love you too.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Pins and needles in your toes ripped you harshly from the dreamland and you groaned quietly, rescuing your foot from the vice created by Steve’s own.

Shared sleep was blissful, releasing endorphins, the feelings of comfort and safety it provided irreplaceable and all that, but having your limb pinned to the mattress by a supersoldier was no joke.

You checked the clock on the nightstand; 8:27 AM. Sparing a glance at the man sleeping beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist, palm sprawled over our abdomen, you smiled despite the early hour.

Any other morning, you would have shaken off the cramp and scooted over to get even closer to Steve; however, determined to do something nice for him and make sure he was alright with what he had clearly considered an irresponsible stunt of yours yesterday, you thanked heavens for the unexpected get-up call and planned on wiggling out of Steve’s grasp.

“Where ya’ goin’?” he mumbled sleepily, the inches you had managed to put between your bodies erased as his arm pulled you back, his nose nuzzling your hair with a sigh.

“Bathroom,” you lied easily, lightly patting his forearm. “We’ve barely slept for five hours. You still have thirty minutes till your usual start of the post-mission day, you crazy-ass lark. I’ll be right back.”

“Mm-hmm… I’ll be waitin’.”

Chuckling silently, you freed yourself fully, this time without his protests.

“I’m sure you will, Steve,” you whispered, your smile widening when only ten seconds later, your words were followed by his quiet snort.

Grabbing one of Steve’s hoodies thrown over the backrest of a chair and sliding into it, you made your way to the communal kitchen instead. Your mission was to make Steve breakfast, secretly hoping you could talk him into skipping the usual run today and actually spending a day in bed. You thwarted big bad’s plans yesterday, for god’s sake, you both deserved a break…

As a reminder of the past events, a bruise the size of a boot on your thigh – which you didn’t remember getting – stared accusingly at you when you passed a mirror. You inconspicuously pulled the hem of Steve’s hoodie an inch lower in attempt to cover it. Vainly.

Rolling your eyes, you wondered just how nice you needed to be today; Steve had seemed more freaked out than anything else; nevertheless, the anger could come today and you rather if it didn’t.

Deciding pancakes, eggs and bacon were a safe bet, you hummed and opened the fridge.

It was the exact moment something caught you eye, a change in decorum; right above your head on the top of the fridge.

A big fat zero stared at you from the sign you had got Steve a while ago, a memorandum of your first first-hand experience of his utter recklessness on missions. Ever since then, you and the rest of the team made sure to have the board up-to-date, sometimes proudly and sometimes regretfully rewriting the number of ‘days without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’.

Now there was a zero. Your jaw went slack, your heartbeat skyrocketing.

It was not the only change on the sign.

Someone, and you had a very good idea who that might be (hint: he was sleeping in your bed), plastered your name over Steve’s.

Your smile froze on your lips and at that moment, you could have been knocked out with a feather.

Unbelievable.

Un-fucking-believable.

Shutting the fridge with a loud thud, bottles in its door clinking, you strode back to your shared room, sputtering curses.

The audacity of him!

When had he even- how had he done– all night— you had woken up before him-!

Forget pancakes, eggs and bacon; snark was on the menu today.

“STEVEEEEEN!”

You heard his laughter before you even reached the bedroom.

Looking at the bright sight of things, Steve being a little shit was a positive shift from his late-night anxiety. A brief smile crossed over your face before you stormed into the room, finding the blond culprit muffling his chuckles in a pillow.

Your pillow.

Jumping to the bed, you grabbed his own and opted to show him just how stupid you could get.

Because trying to take down a supersoldier in a pillow fight? The zero might have to stay on the board for one extra day.

As Steve’s carefree laughter echoed within the walls of your bedroom, filling you with pure joy, you decided you could live with that.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━  ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

If you’d like to know the origin of the board, I kindly point you towards my S.R. masterlist, specifically to Challenge Accepted…? Fair warning: it has more drama than this one.

Thank you for reading! ❤️

#kas4kwc #writing challenge #steve rogers x reader #marvel #fanfiction #mcu #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america imagine #avengers #avenger reader

[stuckonjbbarnes]

A Simple Extraction {One Shot}

A/N: Well this turned into pure filth. It’s 18+. Special thanks to @mushyjellybeans and @sebbbystaaan for their help. This is both for @official-and-unstable-satan’s fic-off challenge @valkyriesryde issued and for @wkemeup’s 4k writing challenge! I hope you like it!

Pairing: Steve x OC { Aria Barton }

Prompt: “Don’t look at me when I’m trying to leave.” (will be bolded) 

Warning: 18+, Oral (male and female receiving), DO NOT READ If Under 18.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Oh please! Don’t act like the thought of a recon mission alone with Aria isn’t getting you off, right now.” Sam laughs, as he follows Steve out of the briefing room. “You’ve only been pining for her since Clint introduced her to the group.

“She’s his niece.” Steve groans.

“That’s not a valid argument.” Sam shrugs as the two round the corner into the kitchen.

“Hey boys! Heard you and I are gonna be partners, Rogers.” She winks, throwing more fruit into a blender.

“Yeah, maybe you and Sam should go instead.” Steve shrugs, walking to the other side of the island.

“Oh...yeah, sure.” Aria frowns, wondering what she did wrong this time.

Her relationship with Steve had always been touch n go. Some days she was sure that they could be the best of friends and others, it seemed like she was the last person on earth he’d want to deal with. Which wasn’t really fair, Aria hadn’t done anything to get that sort of reaction from him. But today was one of those days, she guessed.

“No can do, baby girl.” Sam shakes his head. “Bucky and I are being forced to do some team building thing. Apparently we’re “hostile at best” towards each other.”

“What about Nat or Wanda?” Steve asks and she rolls her eyes.

“List one more avenger and my feelings might get hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to– I’m glad we’re teaming up.” Steve mumbles but his words don’t quite reach the smile he’s put on.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The mission was easy enough. Follow the targets to their meeting place, listen in on their conversation and collect important information; a simple extraction. Yet Aria could hardly focus on the task at hand, with Steve less than three feet away from her. But this was important and so she attempted some focus.

“That’s them.” Steve says, pulling her from thoughts of focusing.

He’s gesturing over the wheel to two guys, both of whom were lanky and looked more like goons from a mob movie than Hydra Agents. She nods almost imperceptibly and watches the men scope out the area. Aria assumes they’ll head straight into the bar and flips down the mirror to “check her lipstick”; it was a stain and it was perfect but as she flipped the mirror back up, one of the goons makes eye contact with her.

“Shit.” She mutters, looking away as if it was just random eye contact with a stranger.

“They’re looking straight at us. This isn’t good.” Steve mumbles and Aria rolls her eyes at the obvious. Thinking quickly, she turns off the comm system and removes the wires for good measure.

“Don’t move.” She leans across the center console and works the zipper on Steve’s jeans down, causing his breath to hitch.

“What are you doing?!” He’s looking around the parking lot, spotting two of their targets headed towards their vehicle.

“Saving this mission.” Aria mutters and she’s somewhat surprised when he repositions so that she can pull his jeans and briefs down a bit, “Man they weren’t kidding when they said the serum enhances everything. Are you always ready to go?”

“That’s all you.” He inhales sharply as she runs her hand down his hard length. “H-how is this helping the mission?”

“Sure, PDA makes people uncomfortable… but car sex scars people for life.”

“I don’t think…”

“Then don’t think.” Aria mutters, taking his head around her lips.

She starts to bob her head on his length stroking what doesn’t fit. Steve lets a groan slip out while his eyes are trained on the targets slowing down. Steve's eyes roll back. She hollows her cheeks while removing her mouth from his dick making a popping sound.

Licking her lips she smirks at Steve going back down, slower this time. Bucking his hips Steve groans louder, opening his eyes to see the targets stopped and trying to figure out what was happening. She hums around his dick causing it to twitch, and she knows he’s close. Steve whines at the loss of contact as she pulls her mouth off again and runs her tongue along his shaft. He grips onto the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.

Quickly putting his dick back in her mouth she bobs her head even faster, and feels his dick twitch yet again knowing he’s going to cum this time. Steve makes a noise and she knows he’s trying to get her off of him but she’s wanted this for too long. Shortly after, his hot liquid spurts down her throat and she moves away swallowing, with a smirk on her lips.

“Are they gone?”

“Long gone.” He sighs, looking blissed out. “You didn’t have to do...all that.” “What? Swallow?” She grins, sitting back in her seat, “Don’t get all shy on me now Rogers.”

“We could’ve figured out something else.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was that bad.”

“No you were great, I just...”

“Listen I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want–

“But I did. So don’t be sorry.” He smirks, looking her over. “My turn?”

“What do you mean? You hate me.”

“Hate is a strong word.”

“They’re already gone, Steve.”

“They could come back.” He suggests and Aria would be stupid to turn down the god of a man in front of her. But this has to be a dream.

“I wouldn’t say no but I don’t think–

“Now it’s your turn not to think.” Steve helps her over his lap and suddenly she’s glad she decided to forego panties.

His broad shoulders kept Aria’s legs open wide, both of her palms flat against the dashboard and her ass perched up on the steering wheel. Steve licked a broad stripe from her entrance to her clit, his lips used as a suction around the little bundle of nerves, using the tip of his tongue to roll around it. Aria moaned with her head thrown back and her legs quivering around his head. “God that feels so good!” She mewls, her nails scratching the plastic dashboard.Steve moans around her clit, the vibrations from his voice drove her crazy. Steve prodded her entrance with his long, slender middle and index fingers, pushing them in until only his knuckles were left with ease and began to stroke her walls in a come hither motion. His fingers grazed her G-spot and Aria cried out. 

“Steve!” She panted. The sweat from her body caused her body to start slipping down the steering wheel, her ass hits the horn and a loud blaring noise scares them for a moment.

Steve looks up, shocked momentarily. They hold eye contact and both burst out laughing, his fingers still knuckle deep in her dripping wet pussy. He reattaches his tongue to her swollen clit, her orgasm building quickly as he continues to abuse her g-spot.

“Steve- f-fuck I’m close!” Aria’s legs shake and her walls squeeze Steve’s fingers. She throws her head back and lets out a long, loud moan as she comes undone around his squelching fingers. 

“Oh my god.” She pants, trying to catch her breath, her skin glistening with sweat. Steve sits back, his chin soaked with her arousal and sucks one finger off at a time, moaning at her taste.

“Delicious!” He smirks, his hands resting on her thighs. Rolling, but more like, tumbling back to the passenger seat, Aria readjusts her skirt. She surveys the parking lot and clicks the comms system back on, reworking the earpiece into her ear.

“Aria...Cap….come in.”

“We’re here.” Aria mutters, trying to control her breathing.

“Comms went down. What’s going on out there?” Sam’s voice is edgy and Steve takes the lead.

“Targets have entered the bar, we’re going in.”

“Don’t draw attention to yourselves.” She hears Sam warn.

“Us? Draw attention? Never.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

After successfully collecting intel, Aria and Steve sit on the couch in one of the various debrief rooms. Fury and Agent Hill are running through the mission and Aria is trying her best to keep it professional but, every so often, Steve makes a suggestive face at her and she feels her cheeks burn.

“Way to not fuck it up.” Fury calls, walking out of the room.

“We lost contact with you two for a while.” Agent Hill looks between the two of them as Fury walks away. “Did something happen? We had the tech look at the equipment and everything came back fully functioning.”

“Weird...maybe the frequencies got messed up or something.” Aria stands up to leave, images of their mission flashing into her mind.

“Not so fast.” Maria puts her hand up and she sits back down, “I don’t know what happened...frankly, I don’t want to know what happened. But you two got lucky nothing went down. Okay, now you’re dismissed.”

Aria makes the mistake of looking at Steve, beside her. He smiles and her cheeks flush pink as she turns her head away quickly, causing him to chuckle to himself. She pushes herself off the couch mumbling, “Don’t look at me like that when I’m trying to leave.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Evans/Character Tag:@patzammit

Permanent Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @sebbbystaaan​ @valkyriesryde​ @donnaintx @geeksareunique @mypassionsarenysins @buckysmischief @my-drowning-in-time @mushyjellybeans @honeyvbarnes @captain-kelli @babblingbonky @pinknerdpanda @supernaturaldean67 @impalaimages @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @hopingforbarnes @dumbubblegum @murdermornings @constantaking

#kas4kwc #steven grant rogers #steve rogers #steve smut #steve rogers x oc #steve x oc #Marvel fanfiction #marvel

[tarithenurse]

Better - One-shot

Characters: King T’Challa x Reader. Prompt: The song “July” by Noah Cyrus ft. Leon Bridges – just the emotions it woke in me. Prompt is from a challenge by @wkemeup <3 Content: Sadness, depression (not labelled), angst, pining, giving up, heartbreak, fluff, comfort, self-deprecation, love, drinking (not excessive), low self-esteem, negative feelings of all sorts. Lots of emotional stuff. A/N: might have gotten just a lot more emotional/sad than I anticipated when I started. But I think...perhaps a lot of people can recognize some doubts they themselves have had, and in that case: don’t give up; don’t stress; find yourself first.

Better

The ache sits deep inside you, simmering mostly but bubbling over when you least expect it and splashing onto your hands or running down your cheeks. Unseen. Invisible to everyone but those that know you best.

Perhaps it is your own fault – at least that is what people keep telling you – for falling for someone so far out of your league that walking to the moon would be more realistic.

Yeah, sure...some people would already call your life a dream because your family is close with the royal family of Wakanda and you have everything you could ever want: the best education, dream job with amazing diplomatic travels, everything money can buy. You even have a handful of friends (like Ayo) despite the sporadic options to see each other.

So why so miserable?

You have grown up around each other, T’Challa and you; now and then blessed with periods of time extended to make it seem as though you could be friends only for your parents’ and later your own job to take you away somewhere. Uprooting you. The only factor that made you feel at home was seeing the prince’s gap-toothed smile. And somehow, over the years, he has found his way into your heart without really trying. A day away from him is a day drowning in hopelessness where you count down to the next time you get to see him again.

Now that has changed too.

For months, you have acted as a councillor for king T’Challa, spending hours right next to him and suffering through conversations both professional as well as private – to the extend that the king has time for such.

Your legs feel stiff, feet heavy whenever you have to leave his side and you shun the company of others for fear that they will tell you what you already know. Forget it. Knock him out of your head. But how can you when he has been a part of your entire soul for years? And so you walk almost like a zombie to your chambers, knowing that it will not be long before you are summoned for another council meeting where you will have to sit and pretend everything is fine while your feelings will be locked up like wild animals rustling the bars of the prisons.

Because you cannot say anything.

Family status or not, you are beneath him. What good would it do anyways, when he clearly does not look at you the same way? And finally...would you even be able to make him happy? You see women and men better fit to accompany T’Challa through life. People who are strong, smart, gorgeous...everything you are not.

That is why you spend you evenings crying and your nights dreaming euphorically about impossibilities.

That is why you make your mind one morning, standing in the shower as you switch the water from hot to icy cold simply to feel something else than the heartache.

“Let go,” you echo the repeated advice from Ayo, “move on.”

It ought to be doable to do just that if the days were not constant reminders of what you want, if you packed up and left there should be a possibility to eventually get past this crush. T’Challa would continue his life without ever knowing and he would find someone worthy of him one day and be happy while you...well, at first you might find peace in knowing he would be happy.

...

The staff is send into a frenzy when you announce the decision to quit. A day’s notice. That is all they get to bring in your replacement and get them up to date on your responsibilities including the who’s-who in the diplomatic world.

That evening you bring the new councillor with you to the very last court meeting you will attend and no one bats an eye or asks why because aids are brought along now and then. T’Challa does study you for a moment, making your heart stick like a lump in your throat, before his attention is drawn elsewhere.

It is the longest hour in your life. Thankfully, your replacement keeps you distracted from pining over the king and suddenly the room is emptying once more as the council meeting has come to a conclusion. For a second, you linger, contemplating telling T’Challa in person that you are leaving. As a perfect example of cowardice, it stays as a thought and you slip away home to pack the few things you have decided to bring when you are going to leave in the early morning.

...

The suitcase is packed. Dirty dishes done and placed back into the cupboards.  You are sitting on the living room floor with a half-drunk bottle of Barolo and an upturned box of old pictures depicting you and your friends through the childhood years. All of it is adding up to a sense of miserableness and self-pity perfect for wallowing in – even as someone knocks on the door.

“Guhhh.” Nope, there is no one you want to talk with right now.

The knocking continues as a mouthful of too warm wine slips down the throat, leaving a sensation of dust on the tongue. Discarding a picture (a snap shot of your best friend Ayo at elementary graduation), you are more focused on shuffling through the stack of memories around you than finding the coffee table for the glass and it shatters on the cool tiles with a jarring sound.

“Fuck...” It is only a whisper because suddenly you do not have energy for anything else as you watch the dark liquid spread across the floor in a sluggish pace.

Most people would simply...get up, get up and find something to dry up the spill with and a dustpan for the shards of glass. Most people. But sitting there on the floor, you just look at the mess while the knocking on the door turns into frantic pounding followed by a brief pause before dry wood splinters.

“What?” Again, it is barely audible.

There is no time to recognize who it is that comes sprinting towards you until you have been dragged up onto the person’s lap and they are looking you over for goodness knows what.

Reality does not feel real. “T’Challa?”

“Yes, it’s me, I’m here.” The padding of your limps and neck stops, big hands still holding on to your shoulders hard enough to almost hide their shaking.

Everything is happening outside a bubble that has formed like a second skin around you. Maybe it is just a dream? In a moment you will wake up to the sound of your alarm and you have to go through the day all over again, eventually leading you to...to what?

“T’Ch-...your highness...what’re you doing ‘ere?”

There is a pain in the soft darkness of his eyes and it hurts your heart to see it – the last thing you wish is for T’Challa to be unhappy.

“I heard...your office and then Ayo they -” He has to stop himself to take a deep breath steadying himself. “It was odd how you brought an assistant to the council meeting, so I asked at your office and, yes, I asked Ayo too -”

Squirming to avoid his gaze, you finally realize you are practically sitting on his lap and it makes the heat rise to your cheeks and your heart beat faster. “You...she told you...?”

“Told me what I feared’s right. How you hurt. How you...how you think...” A deep sigh fills the pause. “I don’t want you to leave. Please.” You do not want to look at him, afraid that the words are empty, but he turns your face with a soft grasp on your chin. “You’re not the only one hiding something.”

Now that gets your attention. Everything else in the room falls away as the personal bubble suddenly extends to encompass T’Challa as well. “What d’you...hide?”

“I love you. Always have.”

“I love you too. Whenever I’ve been away,” the words come rushing now, “it’s like a piece of me has been missing and it’s only when I see you that I feel right and oh, please don’t think I’m a sap or an idiot or something because I’ve tried t-to not be so swallowed by this except tha-”

You wanted to say a lot more now that the floodgates have opened, but everything is stopped as if frozen in time by T’Challa’s lips crashing onto yours with an impossible familiarity that answers any doubts.

#Better #King T'Challa #kas4kwc #T'Challa #T'Challa x reader #T'Challa x you #reader #reader insert #pining #heartache #pain #all the sadness #emotional #feels

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: You Can’t Kid a Kiddo

Intro: It’s April Fools’ Day…and Tony is out to play. Avengers, beware!

Warnings: Bad language, very mild smut...no one gets naked.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark 

A/N:This is written for @wkemeup​ ‘s  4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was dialogue- “I take zero responsibility for this…”

This takes place in the Stark Spangled Banner timeline in April 2015 just before the events of AOU. Steve and my OFC (Katie Stark- Tony’s sister) have been together for 2 years ish and are engaged at this point as well. There’s also another Easter Egg in here for me to set up another One Shot I’m working on...

You don’t have to have read SSB to understand or enjoy this but feel free to check them out if you so wish. Stark Spangled Banner, and the prequel Stark Spangled Man can both be found here on my Masterlist.

Please re-blog and send me comments/thoughts. That’s my jam!

Steve’s hands were hot on Katie’s hips, gently gripping her bare skin just above her underwear, the top she was wearing riding up slightly. Her bare thighs were straddling his as he gripped her neck, pulling her down for a searing kiss, grinding up against her, the TV programme was long forgotten.

“You know…” he said, pulling back slightly to look at her, one of his hands tangling in the hem of the plaid button down she’d stolen from him to sleep in, as usual “Captain America doesn’t approve of theft.” “Captain America is an ass hole.” she grinned back “Stevie is my favourite.”

He gave a chuckle and leaned back against the sofa cushions, looking at her for a second “How did I get so lucky?” he asked, reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ears. She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“What’s brought this on?” she asked, her hands sliding up his chest, resting on his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the collar of his polo shirt.

“Nothing.” he said, “Just seeing you before, today, with that reporter, just reminded me about how fierce...” he pressed a kiss to her lips “and loyal…” another kiss “and downright sexy you are when you’re angry…”

“He was a dick.” she mumbled, against his lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled back to look at him, his fingers gently tracing the outside of her thighs “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already launched the publicity campaign already…”

“Well it’s big news.” he smiled up at her.

“Of course it will, it’s Harlan Thrombey…” she shrugged “His books are huge!”

“Did you ever get to the bottom of why he’s reached out to SIP to run the next one when he has his own publishing company?” “Oh something to do with his Son annoying him and needing to be taught not to take things for granted.” Katie shrugged “I can ask him that in October when we meet him to go over the final edit and discuss the covers and stuff… but that’s by the by. That ass-hat reporter should have been at the press launch like everyone else, not trying to accost us when we went out for lunch. And what the fuck has whether we’ve set a wedding date got to do with it anyway? Nosey bastard.”

Steve chuckled at her rant and looked at her, his eyes shining. “We haven’t set one though.”

“Yeah well, we’ve kinda had a bit going on.” she said, “Maybe once all this business with the sceptre is sorted we can think about it.” Steve sighed “I know, it’s taking a little longer than we hoped.”

“Well it’s only the end of March.” she shrugged “I’ve always wanted a summer wedding so it’s not…”

She trailed off and Steve saw her eyes widen and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him. “Oh shit…”

“Kitten, what is it?” he frowned.

“It’s the 31st March…” she looked at him, swallowing. Steve felt the colour draining from his face "Crap." The reason for their horror was simple. Because, forget Christmas or Thanksgiving, April Fools’ Day was Tony Stark's favourite time of year, as his long suffering sister could testify. When she was a kid, Tony had done the usual stuff. Flour in her talc, washing up liquid in her shampoo, paper shapes of bugs (never spiders though, he wasn't that cruel) in lampshades so when she turned the lights on she'd think she had a huge cockroach in there, that type of stuff. But, as she matured so did the pranks. At one time whilst she had been at the tower for a meeting JARVIS sent her an alert that someone had slashed her tyres in the carpark. She had sprinted outside to see photos of Slash from Guns and Roses struck to the side of her tyres. Another year Tony had hacked her StarkPhone and Laptop and changed the language to Chinese. Of course she couldn't read fucking Chinese to change it back. When she found an agent in SHIELD who did and he reversed it for her, within 30 seconds it had flicked over to Russian. And when she fixed that it became Swedish and so on and so on... Steve had also been the butt of a few pranks since he had known Tony. In 2013 he had fallen for the old toothpaste Oreo trick when a box had arrived for him allegedly from the cookie company themselves after Steve had been papped eating a packet. That had nearly made him sick. And then last year there had been the none stop phone calls asking for Franklin. Every time it was someone different and Steve was getting more and more frustrated as to who exactly Franklin was and why people thought he was on his number. Then, as he and Katie had been on the sofa making out, he'd gotten one last call…

"Leave it..." she said, her hands in his face turning her back to look at him. He kissed her again, hands sliding up the side of her torso, grinding his crotch down onto hers making her purr with delight as her hands strayed to the buckle of his belt, soft fingers gently skimming his abs as she made to undo it, his tongue tangling ferociously with hers as he gave a soft moan of pleasure... But his phone was going again. Katie sighed as he dropped his head to her chest, mumbling a curse. "Unless that’s a Code Red, you can tell whoever it is to fuck off." she said with a frustrated growl, her head flopping back against the cushion as he reached over and answered it, still led over her. "Rogers..." he said sharply. It was another unknown number, but not an unknown voice. "Hi this is Frankin!" Tony greeted him Steve let out a growl of frustration as he realised he had been had. "Have there been..." pause as the inventor laughed "I'm sorry, have there been any calls for me?" "Tony I swear to god!" he spat through gritted teeth as the inventor cackled and hung up. "Your brother is a dick." he looked down at Katie, shaking his head. "Well yeah, I know that…" Katie looked up at her boyfriend "What did he just do?" "Those calls I’ve been getting all day. Asking for Franklin?" He looked at her and she nodded "it was him."

She paused and then let out a laugh “Ok, to be fair, that’s a pretty good one…” “I hate him.” he mumbled, dropping his head back to her chest.

She chuckled again, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Hey, Stevie…wanna get him back?" “How?” Steve queried, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her.. “Call him...” she grinned, leaning up and nipping at his jaw line softly as he closed his eyes “Leave the phone on the table...” she bucked up under him, wriggling her hips, his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight  again “and let him listen to us make out”

Steve hadn’t done that, because, well frankly the thought of anyone listening to them wasn’t a great turn on in his books so Tony had gone another year of getting away with it.

Simply put, Tony was king of the pranks, and this year he had the entire team at the tower to torment. 

“We should warn the others…” Steve looked at her, and with a sigh she nodded. She untangled herself from him and straightened the legs on her denim shorts.

“JARVIS?” she asked.

“Yes Miss Stark…” “Where are the rest of the team?”

“Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the Common Room.” he spoke “Thor is in his quarters as is Mr Stark and Dr Banner is in the Lab…”

“I’ll text Nat, Clint and Banner.” she said, nodding “Can you go see Thor…he doesn’t have a phone and I’m not asking JARVIS to do it in case Tony catches on…” Steve nodded “Yeah, I’ll pop down and see him now.” Giving her a quick kiss he straightened his pants slightly and headed towards the hidden elevator, selecting the right floor. Thor and Clint shared one of the highest floors in the tower, both preferring to be higher up, closer to the roof but it was still below their’s. Exiting the elevator, he turned left and knocked on the door.

“Captain?” Thor answered and stepped back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “It’s not strictly pleasure I’m afraid Thor…” Steve sighed “I’m hear with a warning.” “A warning?” he frowned.

“Yeah, you got five minutes? It’s gonna take some explanation.”

***** Tony was giggling to himself as he put the final touches to the last of his pranks, before closing the door to the Lab and heading back to his floor. None of the team were up yet, it was ridiculously early, but the early bird catches the worm and all that. Fuck Killian and his second mouse bullshit. He had been toying with setting it all up the previous evening but he didn’t trust Kiddo and Spangles not to do some kind of recon mission before they went to bed. 

“What have you been doing?” Pepper mumbled to him as he walked back into their dark bedroom.

“Nothing…” he said, with a grin, leaning down to give her a peck.

“Bullshit.” Pepper mumbled against his lips. “It’s April Fools Day…” “Is it?” he said, innocently and she rolled her eyes “JARVIS?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Hey buddy, I need you to set up an alert for me for today. If anyone goes into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my equipment I wanna know about it.”

“Of course Sir.”

Tony grinned as he headed into the bathroom for a shower. “Game on, Avengers...” 

Prank 1.

Steve was the first victim. He and Katie were making their way, cautiously, down to the large meeting room where they were all due to congregate to look over the plans of an abandoned British prison they suspected of being a Hydra base. They made sure to check round each corner before they walked round it, checking up high, low, everywhere.

But there was no avoiding this prank.

Steve pressed his palm to the Biometric Pad on the meeting room door and the pair of them gave a loud yell and a jump as their ears were assaulted by a sudden chorus.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Steve groaned as he pulled open the door, the song echoing through the PA system.

“Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America? From Hoboken to Spokane? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Clint and Natasha were stood, poised at the table, both wearing identical looks of astonishment on their faces. They turned to Katie and Steve as they walked into the room, the song still playing.

“We can't ignore there's a threat and a war we must win! Who'll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin?”

“I’m assuming this means Cap is the first of us to fall victim to Stark?” Clint asked, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Who will indeed lead the call for America? Who'll rise or fall, give his all, for America?”

“Please tell me it isn’t going to go through a full rendition…” Steve sighed, dropping into a chair.

“Who's here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Silence. The 4 of them waited with bated breath, but thankfully it had stopped.

“Just the first two verses…” Katie said, sitting next to him. “Suppose we should be grateful.” “Kiddo, you’re as much of a sneak as Tony…” Clint looked at her, as Thor walked into the room. “How come you’ve never managed to get him back?”

“He’s too smart.” she sighed, “I’ve tried and tried before. It doesn’t help that he has JARVIS either, watch this…JARVIS?”

“Yes Miss Stark?”

“Has my brother got an alert going for you to warn him if we try and prank him?” “I couldn’t possibly comment Miss Stark, on whether or not your brother has an alert set up to warn him if you attempt to tamper with any of his equipment…”

Normally she would chuckle at the AIs tone but she was too frustrated with her brother and the seeming lack of loopholes in any of his instructions she could exploit. She leaned back in her chair and gave a huff “See?”

“I could just shock him with some lightning?” Thor suggested

“Think that’s a little harsh.” Steve sighed. 

“See if you still think that by the end of the day when every time you open a door that song starts.” Natasha looked at him.

“What, you think…” Steve looked at her and then gave a groan. “It’s not just gonna be the one door is it?”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Of course it isn’t just one door…” _______

Prank 2.

Bruce was sincerely hoping that whatever inevitable prank Tony was going to pull on him that the Billionaire had been sensible enough not to shock him so far that the Hulk erupted. Bruce had a pretty good hold on him, so he wasn’t too worried but still, you never know.

He made it to his lab in one piece, opened the door and stopped dead.

In front of him on the floor, for about 2 metres square were cups of water. And they were positioned hat close together that there was no space for him to step over in any direction without them spilling all over the floor. Which meant he couldn’t get into the room. Had it been anyone else, they would probably have simply kicked them over, but not Bruce. He was always paranoid about the liquid seeping through the floors and down onto the machinery which looked after the Iron Legion. 

So if he was going to get into the lab, he was going to have to move them one cup at a time. 

“Damned you Tony!” he said with a loud, exasperated sigh “JARVIS? I need a bucket…”

_______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Good luck finding one Brucey…”

_______

Prank 3.

“I don’t think there’s much else to go on…” Steve sighed as the rest of the team finished looking over the plans “We need to get out there and do a recon really.“

“We prepping for another mission then, Cap?” Clint looked at him. Steve took a deep breath and nodded.

“I don’t think we have an alternative.” 

“Ok, well, if we get everything ready we can go at first light tomorrow.” Natasha suggested “I’ll get onto the British Authorities, let them know we’re planning on coming.” “Get Hill onto it” Katie suggested “She’ll go through the UN.”

With that an alert sounded on her phone and she looked down at it. “I gotta go take a conference call but I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Steve nodded to her as she stood up and left the room. She made it to her office, safely and swung the door open, pausing just to make sure nothing fell from the door frame. She darted through, took a look round and everything seemed to be in order.

Suspecting Tony of most likely sabotaging her computer or screen, she sat down on her chair and a loud horn sounded causing her to scream and involuntarily he entire body jumped, and her chair toppled backwards. She went with it, arms and legs flailing and she hit the floor with a crash.

After taking a moment to sort herself out she stood up, and looked at the bottom of her chair. There was an Airhorn strapped to the main leg which mean as soon as she had sat down, it would push the handle causing it to sound.

“I know you’re watching this you fucker!” she yelled, spinning round to the CCTV camera and flicking it off “I hate you!”

_____ Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Nice fall Kiddo…”

_______

Prank 4.

Given that there was nothing else to do, Natasha decided to head to the gym, as she did every Tuesday morning, to practice Pilates. It was a routine she tried not to break as it helped her keep supple and relax. Katie sometimes joined her, and surprisingly so did Steve. He said it helped keep his mind clear. 

She knew that the routine made her an easy target for one of Stark’s pranks, but she was damned if he was going to catch her out. She was one of the world’s best spies, no way was he going to get her with some stupid, childish trick.

She entered the room and glanced up and around, checking the corners, you name it. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out at her, and even if they did, she’d floor them- more fool you, Stark, she leaned up against the bench and stretched her legs out.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

She spun to see Steve shaking his head as he made his way into the room in his gym gear

“You joining me or hitting the bag?” she asked as they both tried to ignore the song as it continued ringing from the speakers.

“Joining you if that’s ok?” he said, “I went for a run this morning so…” “Sure.” she nodded, and as the song finally stopped they made their way to the store cupboards, picking out their mats. Natasha picked her favoured one, and lay it down on the floor.

As soon as she stepped on it there was a loud popping noise, like a gun going off, and she jumped backwards, dropping to the floor by instinct. 

“Nat…” Steve said, a smile tugging at his lips “It’s ok, it’s not a gun.” Angrily she stood up, stalked over to the mat and pulled it up off the floor. She examined it a little before she gave a snort.

“Bastard!” she exclaimed, slipping her hand into a small, almost invisible hole on the underside. She pulled out a tiny little firecracker, the type that kids used to throw on the floor in front of someone to make a loud bag. “He’s filled my mat with these!” 

______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Even Super Spies get fooled, Romanoff…”

_______

Prank 5 and 6.

Later that day the team met in the common room for lunch. Steve already had a headache from that damned song following him every time he opened a door, Katie was sporting quite a sore elbow after falling harshly on the floor, Bruce was pissed as it had taken him a good hour to get rid of the cups of water, and Natasha was seething at the fact she’d been caught out too.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with it for your entire life.” Clint said to Katie as he opened the fridge, pulling out a can of his favoured Dr Pepper. He grabbed a glass and a few ice cubes, the way he always like his soda and walked over to where they were all sat on the sofas with various lunch items on the coffee table. He poured the soda into the glass and set it on the table.

“Yeah well, you better be careful.” Katie said “You too Thor, there’s no way he hasn’t set one up for you both.” “I am mighty Little Stark.” Thor grinned, nursing a plate of his favoured chocolate and sugar covered strawberries he had snaffled from a tray in the fridge “it will take more than…” “SHIT!” Clint exclaimed, and with a loud yell they all jumped back as the soda in his glass was exploding over the top with such veracity it was showering them all in the sticky drink. As Steve and Natasha headed to grab some paper towels, Katie marched over to the freezer and yanked out the ice dispenser tray.

“He’s put fucking Mentos in the ice cubes!” she said with a shake of her head. “Jesus Christ…” “You gotta hand it to him.” Bruce sighed, wiping his glasses off on his shirt 

“I’d like to hand it to him.” she mumbled, “with my fist closed.” Thor gave a chuckle and popped a strawberry in his mouth, before he gave a grimace, gagged and spat it back out onto the plate.

“That’s…” he stood up, nearly pushing Steve over in his attempt to get to the sink. 

Katie watched him as he grabbed a glass of water and filled it from the tap. 

“What...” Natasha looked at Bruce who was examining a piece of the fruit, holding it in front of his nose.

“Salt…” Thor mumbled as he rinsed his mouth out “It isn’t sugar, its salt. He put salt on my Chocolate Sugar Fruit!”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Ice Ice baby... not so mighty after all Thunder God.”

_______

*******

“We have to get him back…” Natasha grumbled as they all sat in Katie and Steve’s apartment, having retreated to the relative safety as their living quarters were the one place there was no CCTV, and Katie had the authority to banish JARVIS from earwigging. (Tony had learnt that lesson one day after hearing something he really didn’t want to hear…)

“Believe me I’ve tried.” Katie sighed “And you heard J before, anyone tampers with his equipment and…” She stopped dead. That was it. That was the loophole. With a smirk she looked round the assembled faces. Steve arched an eyebrow at her, he knew that look very well.

“What you thinking?” he asked and she grinned at them all.

“Ok, listen up.” she said, leaning forward. “I have an idea...”

They listened attentively, Clint and Natasha sharing a grin as she outlined her plan whilst Thor slapped his thigh with glee. Steve leaned back in his chair and looked at Banner who was also smiling ear to ear.

“That might just work.” The Doctor said “It’s a pretty good loophole, and we have the stuff in the lab so…” “I’ll need a distraction.” Katie said, “something that’s gonna draw Tony out of his office for long enough for me to do it but…” “That’s easy.” Thor said, “I’m sure I can cause a good deal of noise in the Training Facility, break a few things with my hammer…”

“Fry something.” Steve said, looking round “If you do that then JARVIS won’t be able to fix it remotely, Tony’s gonna have to get his hands dirty.”

“You all know what you’re doing?” Katie grinned as everyone nodded. “Ok, Avengers, let’s do this…“

Operation Payback.

Tony heard the bang seconds before JARVIS spoke

“Mr Stark…”

“What the hell was that?”

“There’s been an incident in the Training Suite.”

“Course there has…” Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation at how stupid they thought he was. He wasn’t falling for a distraction like that. “Where is everyone?” “Miss Stark, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the shooting range.” Jarvis informed them. Doctor Banner was in his lab, although it appears he is now making his way down to the Training Facility to find out what’s going on. Captain Rogers is already there as is Thor.”

“What’s the incident?”

“It appears Thor has struck the speakers and the access pad with a bolt of lightning.” JARVIS replied “I’m currently assessing the damage but as a result he is locked in. And he isn’t happy.” Tony gave an exasperated groan and pushed his chair from his desk. “Suppose I best go see if I can help…remember what I said, anyone comes in here and tampers with my equipment…” “Of course, Sir…”

When Tony arrived Thor was kicking the door to the training facility, waving his hammer irately.

“Thor!” Steve was stood by the glass, attempting to calm him down. “Don’t buddy, we’ll get you out of there…” “I can get myself out…” Thor blazed, raising his hand and Tony blanched at the fact Thor was threatening to send his hammer straight through the wall. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the walls and glass to get damaged but they’d only just had it replaced after Steve and Thor had been practicing using Steve’s shield and Mjolnir to cause an outwards blasting shockwave. 

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, and Steve spun to him shooting him a glare.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on…” Thor roared “That infernal song…”

His hammer crackled ominously again and Tony looked back to Steve.

“He was fed up of hearing Star Spangled Man With A Plan ringing out every goddamned time I opened a door.” Steve folded his arms “So he lost his temper. And I can’t say I blame him.” “We’ve talked about this.” Tony looked at Thor “You need to use your words buddy…” “Words, I’ll give you more than words, Stark!” Thor roared “Now get me out of here!”

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, looking at the pad on the door. “Damage report?”

“The Circuit is completely fried Sir.” JARVIS said “I cannot access or override, you will need to do it manually.”

“Great…” Tony mumbled “Let me just go get my tools from the lab.” Mumbling to himself he set off down the corridor and once he was gone, Thor grinned and tossed his hammer in the air as he gave Steve and Banner the thumbs up before he caught it expertly again in his right hand.

“Good job!” Steve nodded with a smile as he pulled his phone out and dialled Katie quickly. “You’re up.” 

****

It took Tony roughly 30 minutes to replace the wires and unlock the door. Thor stormed out, pushed him harshly in the chest before he left down the corridor.

“Guess they don’t have April Fools’ day on Asgard.” Tony mumbled, rubbing at the front of his shirt.

“To be honest Tony, it’s pretty annoying.” Bruce sighed “Can you at least turn it off now, I mean its almost 2 in the afternoon.” “Yeah I suppose…” Tony sighed, before he grinned “it was a pretty good one though, right.” “Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, his hands falling to his belt buckle. Tony flashed him a grin and a shrug before he gathered up his tools and made his way back down the corridor.

“JAR?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Turn off Prank Spangles will you, before anyone else breaks more of my tower.”

“Right away Sir.” “And I’m assuming from the lack of contact no one’s been in my office tampering with my equipment?” “That’s correct sir.” “Today has been a good day.” Tony grinned to himself.

Once he was back in his office he sat down at his chair, and went through his emails quickly. He absentmindedly scratched at his beard, which felt a little dry to be honest. But he hadn’t oiled it since that morning. Reaching into his drawer he grabbed the small bottle, tipped a good amount onto his hand and spread it across the expertly groomed whiskers before he continued with his work. It took him a few hours but he cleared his inbox and then decided it was time to face the music. Heading down to the common room he found the rest of the team lounging in front of the TV. They were watching Kitchen Nightmares. 

“S’up Kids?” he asked and none of them looked at him. “Ok, alright, I know…sorry if I pranked you but if I buy takeout will that make you forgive me?”

No answer.

“Oh come on!” Tony said, crossing the room, sinking into a spare arm chair. “I’ll get Thai…"

The team exchanged glances before Bruce gave a sigh. He was always the one to cave first, the mild mannered Scientist found it hard to stay outwardly angry, which was ironic when anyone thought about it.

“To be fair, that trick with the water was pretty clever.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, and I suppose the salt strawberries were a little amusing.” Thor said, looking at Katie.

She shrugged, her feet resting in Steve’s lap as he was gently running his fingers up and down her calf.

“Oh come on Kiddo…”  Tony sighed, flopping onto an arm chair.  

“Payback’s a bitch…and so are you.”  she said simply, still not looking at him.

“You’ve never managed to get me back yet.” Tony snorted.

At that point he noticed that Natasha and Clint exchanging smirks. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clint said, shaking his head.

“I like your beard” Thor said, grinning “I have always admired how you keep it so neat and groomed. Maybe I should trim mine the same way.” Tony frowned. “Oh is this the part where you pin me down and shave it?” he rolled his eyes “You know I can call my suit to me in like 5 seconds flat.” “We know.” Steve said simply, looking at him. Tony’s frown deepened. The way the Captain’s blue eyes were shining with mirth made him uncomfortable.

He looked round as 6 pairs of eyes were all completely focussed on him now before Katie cracked up laughing.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t hold…” her laughter grew more and more as she threw her head back against the arm of the sofa “You look ridiculous…” Tony frowned and without a word stood up from the chair and made his way to the bar to glance in the mirrored surface between the shelves.

Oh. Holy. Jesus.

His goatee. His beautiful goatee...was blonde.

He spun round and the rest of the guys in the room cracked up laughing. Steve had his head thrown back, right hand clutching at his chest as Katie wiped tears from her face whilst Natasha doubled over on her seat. Besides her Clint slapped his thigh, his chuckles loud.

“What…how…” Tony spluttered, looking again at his reflection, before he glared back at the group.

“Slipped a little peroxide in your beard oil…” Katie managed to stutter between laughs, Thor’s loud rumbles continued, punctuated every now and then by a snort from Banner.

“JARVIS!” Tony roared “I told you to tell me if anyone went into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my stuff…” "I take zero responsibility for this...sir” The AI responded “And I believe your instruction was to alert you if anyone entered your office or the garage or anywhere in the tower and messed with your equipment. Technically Miss Stark didn't touch your equipment, only your Male grooming product. I believe they exploited a loophole.” That made the group laugh even harder as Tony went bright red, spluttering obscenities at JARVIS. Eventually he calmed down and sighed, before he glanced at his sister.

“You know I’m almost proud…” he said, shaking his head. “Almost…”

Katie gave him a wink in response. “You know what they say…you can’t kid a kidder, or in this case Kiddo…”

Tony gave a groan which turned into a resigned chuckle. He could always dye it back...

Yes, April Fools’ day was still Tony Stark’s favourite time of year.

@the-omni-princess​  @momobaby227​ @geekofmanythings16​ @angelofhell-666​ @thewackywriter​ @marvelfansworld​​  @cobalt-gear​  @asgardlover75​ @jennmurawski13​​​  @jtargaryen18​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​​  @navispalace​​ @patzammit​​  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​​  @icanfeelastormbrewing​​ @djeniiscorner​​  @ayamenimthiriel​​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​​  @disneylovingal​​ @madzmilllz​  @sgtjaamesbaarnes​

#stark spangled banner #kas4kwc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #thor #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #black widow #bruce banner #hulk #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

[marvelous-avengers]

of knowing

summary: I’ve fallen in love, and it’s better this time than I’ve ever known. For @wkemeup 4k follower celebration

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: fluff, smut if you squint

a/n: jess, posting a fic? hiya kids, happy 2020! this is for Kas’ 4k celebration! my prompt was “I’ve fallen in love, and it’s better this time than I’ve ever known”. I saw it and basically chugged this baby out. barely checked for errors but hey, this is something right? congrats to kas on hitting 4k, and i hope you enjoy y’all!

***

It hits him like a brick.

Unexpectedly so.

Like a brick that he stubs his toe on after there’s a car and another brick wall with the concrete behind it. But it’s after everything falls away¬–after the dirt and plaster fall from his hair and his eyes blink away the dust, that’s when the strange sense of calm washes over him.

It’s warm–it’s warm and light and then it’s like he’s drowning in the sensation of it. Filling his lungs and flowing in his veins until he feels nothing more than an overwhelming affection, and the realization is jarring. So jarring that he needs to seek you out, his heart pounding out of his chest and into his ribcage that it’s nearly painful. Painful that you are not near, that he’s not touching you right this second.

He finds you curled up on the couch, blanket tucked around your legs and a book in your hands. Perfectly content. Safe. Here. You look up immediately, taking in his expression with a crease between your brows.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Babe. A word that used to be so foreign, so mysterious and strangely intimate that he had shied away from it at first. He would blush and scrunch his nose and you would just smile. Because even though you use nicknames for everyone, “dear, darling, sweetheart, honey,” babe made him blush. There is a sweet nuance to babe–a different emotional attachment, a different association with the person. A sweet, gentle reminder of the intimate bond that two lovers share. The quiet tenacity and knowing that this person is mine as I am theirs.

He blushes now as his heart settles in his chest, fingers itching to reach out to you even though he stays planted in the doorway. “N-Nothing.”

The crease deepens and he immediately wants to wipe it away with his thumb. To kiss your skin and make it better. You stick your makeshift bookmark–a folded, blue post it note–into the pages and close the book. “Are you sure? You look flushed.”

He takes his first step towards you before your hand is even in the air to beckon him over. He’s tentative, cautious, and it worries you–but it vanishes immediately as he curls his body around your own, arms going around your waist and head on your chest. You settle together, arms instantly around his shoulders and a hand in his hair, legs flat and knees bent outward to accommodate as Bucky pushes himself close to you. Deflates like a balloon as he lets out a heavy breath.

He lets the weight of it all engulf him–the overwhelming sensation of love and security, of knowing–lets it seep into every crevice of his soul and he has never felt so free.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, still concerned because he hasn’t said a word. “Buck? You okay?”

He turns his head, cheek pressed to your chest and lets out another sigh. “Yeah,” he says, before reaching up to press a kiss to your neck. “Promise.”

“Good.” You give him a squeeze, and he feels the worry leaving your body. He thinks for a moment about telling you, and it nearly leaves his lips–but it doesn’t. He holds it captive in his heart for now, letting it build and warm in the hearth of his chest. Lets it simmer as you read your book, thinking of all the ways he can tell you.

He catches you by surprise later that night in bed, with a feverish kiss and needy hands. Whispers the words along your body in every curve and dip until there are tears in your eyes and a laugh in your smile. Says it confidently as he slides home, chokes on it as you mold and meld together, between kisses pressed to sweat-soaked skin. It’s breathed into the air as you finish and settle against each other, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

He looks at your face, dazed and satiated and utterly happy, looking at him with the same desperate love. Because you know–you know the depths of his love, have shown him and praised him and been with him. And he thinks that you knew it long before he did.

He’ll gladly spend the rest of his life saying it out loud if that’s how you’ll look at him.

#jess writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #kas4kwc #writing challenge #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction fluff #fluff #marvel #james barnes fluff

[flowerymoonlight]

from the ashes

pairing: Werewolf!Bucky x POC!Phoenix!Reader

genre: fantasy, really there's nothing else

word count: 1,483

summary: So are you gonna die today? Or make it out alive?

warnings: none really

author’s note: this is for @wkemeup‘s 4k challenge!! I entered so late ! thank you for hosting and I hope you enjoy it!! AAAHHH this is my first time writing fantasy. take that as you will

The first thing you noticed was the cold. It seeped into your bones and dragged you further down. You weren’t falling but you were floating. You weren’t sure if you could open your eyes because even when you did pitch black darkness was all that greeted you.

You didn’t know where you were or what had happened to you. But you still felt an odd sense of calm. You weren’t scared – you were waiting. You were waiting for someone, something, to pull you up.

You didn’t know how much time went by while you were there, everything felt still yet constantly in motion. It didn’t make any sense and yet you were never confused. It felt like you could stay there forever.

But there was an inch you needed to scratch.

From one second to the next you feel your lungs burning as they fill with oxygen and your eyes are blinded by the light. Your ears are buzzing but you can hear frantic voices behind it. Slowly you blink, trying to get your vision back to normal.

You start to remember bits and pieces about what was before the void. You saw a boy, face bright and knuckles bloody. You saw him smiling and it sent warmth down to your heart and a need to protect him from himself. Steve, your mind provided and you would have smiled if it wasn’t for your stomach turning.

Slowly opening your eyes again, having adjusted to the light in the room, you could make out forms around you and listen more clearly to the sounds coming from them.

“What’s happening?! You told me she would be okay.” One of them hissed.

“You need to give her more time. Let her body adjust to the change.” The second voice was miles calmer and sounded the furthest from you. You had a feeling it was lingering close enough though.

The next moment you felt a fire start inside you till it consumed everything you felt, everything you saw. Even the breath in your lungs felt like it was burning you from the inside out. You opened your eyes staring at the ceiling of the room and seeing past it, to the night sky. Seeing every star all at once and listening to them talk between them.

And when you turned to watch the ground you could hear the trees sing to you, pulling you to them. Birds flying past you, feeling the wind at the tip of your fingers and having the urge to chase after it. And all too soon you were dropped back into the room you woke up in. Panting out of breath as your memories came back to you all at once.

A breath later Steve was all over you, touching you and making sure you were alright. He was speaking but you couldn’t hear him past the sounds of the forest still calling to something buried deep inside you and asking to come out. To be let free as if it was caged all your life.

You hadn’t realized you had moved till you were across the room, pulling the door open and barely registering Steve yelling after you before he was stopped by Bucky. You didn’t stay to learn the rest of the conversation. You let pure instinct guide you forward as you run to the tree line that surrounded the cabin you were in.

You took a deep breath in, feeling the fire spread all over your back till it was burning your skin and it was breaking. You faintly realized that instead of the pain you were expecting to feel, relief flooded you. But that was overshadowed by wings flaring out from your back and lifting your feet off the ground.

Somehow the air in your lungs felt different, fresher, newer, right, when you were in the air flying over the trees. You felt your body start to change to accommodate. First were your eyes, changing and letting you see further than you ever thought was possible, and inside the forest, even catching a glimpse of Bucky’s pack as they run through it. You felt claws grow on your fingers and toes, ready to slice into any piece of meat you choose to. Your hair, being slickened back and away from your face.

But by far the strongest change was inside your ribcage, where the fire only grew until it was the only thing fueling you. Till it was all you could feel and only the wind over your wings would satisfy enough. It was addicting and you flapped your wings, doing laps and circles around yourself in the air. Filling with the elation of finally letting yourself be free.

You didn’t know how much time passed, nor was it your concern, before you found the cabin again. Seeing Steve waiting for you outside. You could see, even from above the trees, how he was biting his lip and bouncing his leg anxiously. It was the first moment that it occurred to you how new you both were to all of this and that he was most likely worrying himself sick.

You flew down to stand in front of him, and as much as you could see the relief in the way his muscles relaxed, you could smell the worry and confusion coming out of him. You frowned to yourself, realizing you could smell as well you could see, as well as you could fly into the sky.

“It gets less weird,” Bucky came out of the cabin, looking you over. You weren’t sure you would’ve cached the small twitch of his lips before but now it somehow let you know that he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“What did you do to her?” It was Steve’s turn to turn accusingly at him, pointing a finger and you could smell the fear and worry in him. You loved him for it but there was an answer to that question you could feel deep inside your bones.

“This is who I am.” It was the first time you had used your voice in a while but that still didn’t excuse how it sounded more like a growl than actual words. When your eyes went to Bucky he gave you a nod that calmed down some of your confusion.

“This is who you are?! Are you kidding me?! You are my best friend.” You could hear the wobble in Steve’s voice louder than you could hear your own heartbeat and it sent something unpleasant down your spine. And his eyes that were holding your own shone with unshed tears that made you gulp. “Who I trusted with a stranger that did god knows what to her!” Steve was turning back around to yell at Bucky and it surprised you when he didn’t look exasperated, not even for a moment.

“I didn’t do anything,”

“Steve,” you called his name before he could say something back to Bucky and make the situation even worse for himself. “This was always who I was, who I am. It was always inside me. I just couldn’t get it out until now.” Your voice came closer to normal as you talked, trying to soften it so you could convince Steve.

You could almost see Steve’s brain twisting and turning, trying to come to terms with it – and you. In the end, you loved Steve to death but you could never deny the fire inside you. Not even for him. Yet, when Steve sighed, seeming to at least accept your words for what they were, an unseen tension left your body at his acceptance.

“It’s time,” Bucky’s voice came over both of you like a cold breeze, chilling your flesh but urging you to follow after him. The fire inside you flared at his words, immediately understanding and itching to move.

You were turning to face the trees again before Steve stepped forward and bringing his hand up, stopping just short of your own arm. “Take me with you,” his eyes were pleading you and a big part of you was screaming for you to comply. But you knew in your heart this was something for you and you alone. He couldn’t fit in here.

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” You clasped his hand while it hovered in the air between you, being careful of your claws, and tried to convey with your eyes how important this was for you, but also how important he was to you.

With a last look at Steve’s eyes, hoping he would understand why you had to what you did, you turned. You watched as Bucky turned in his wolf form, gave one look your way, and started running towards the tree line. It was all you needed before you let the fire take control and take you up towards the stars.

It was your time to fly.

#kas4kwc #fantasy au #phoenix au #werewolf au #magic au #bucky x reader