#might do a part two to counter all the negative Steve self thoughts

[blushweddinggowns]

Now with Part 2!

Steve didn’t have the best track-record when it came to relationships. It’s not that he had a problem getting into them, he just had an issue staying in them. Or more accurately, getting someone to want to stay with him.

Nancy was the worst example of that by far, but even before her, there was a trend in Steve’s life. People broke up with him, not the other way around. And he knew why. Steve wasn’t stupid, or at least, not as stupid as people thought he was. He knew he was clingy, he knew he fell in love too fast, got intense too fast, he was painfully aware of the fact.

And he wasn’t going to go through it again. Robin had been the last straw, in both a good and a bad way. The romance aspect was obviously shot to shit immediately, but at the same time, she was the one person in his life, who wasn’t a literal child, that didn’t think he was too much. She was the one person who loved him back unconditionally, all of his clinginess and care one hundred percent accepted.

And Steve would take it. He got lucky enough to get someone to want to be in his life while knowing the real him, why push? A platonic soulmate was probably more than he deserved anyway. So Steve accepted the fact that this was it. Maybe down the line, he’d do what his parents did, get married for convenience instead of love. Have kids, the whole normal life shebang. But for now, he was happy to keep all that crap away from him.

But then came Eddie Munson.

Stupid, reckless, annoying, adorable Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson who almost died protecting Steve’s favorite child, Eddie Munson who had the prettiest eyes in the state of Indiana, Eddie Munson who ended up being the sweetest, funniest person Steve had ever met. Eddie Munson, who latched onto Steve with lightning fast speed, and made him feel like his life had fucking color again.

They became fast friends, half because experiencing hell together was a really great bonding experience, and half because Dustin refused to hang out with them separately now that their weird jealous feud was over. The little shit was obviously trying to play as a friend matchmaker, and it worked to Dustin’s delight.

Despite all their differences, Steve and Eddie just clicked. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different, but underneath it all, they were eerily similar. Both had shitty parents who hated them, both were fucking terrible at academics and would side-eye each other when one of their genius friends went on a smart person rant. They were both snarky shitheads who could make the other laugh like no tomorrow. They both wanted out of this shitty town, but were too afraid to leave their friends behind. And they just…liked each other. A lot.

Steve could, and had, spent hours talking to him on the phone, about anything and nothing. And as embarrassing as it was, falling asleep on there together was not a rare thing for either of them. Soon enough, they were almost attached at the hip. Even at work they couldn’t stay away from each other, either Eddie was loitering on the Family Video floor chatting up Steve, or Steve was impatiently waiting in Eddie’s passenger seat as he did a drug deal. And it was all so fun, just being with him. Steve kind of felt like he was on top of the world. 

But then it happened. He didn’t know how it happened, but it happened.

One second, they were on their way to the movie theater, arguing about what they were going to see, and the next Steve realized it. He stared at Eddie, still in the middle of his rant on how The Fly was going to be so much more memorable than Stand by Me.

An uncomfortably familiar feeling was building up inside him. Familiar but different, more intense than anything he could remember. But he still knew what it was. It was that horrible, fluttery feeling he had with Nancy, but worse. Because with Nancy, Steve had been trying, he had worked to impress her, had opened himself up on purpose to get his heart broken.

But with Eddie? It felt like he was taking a piece of Steve without permission. He hadn’t even thought about it when he opened up to him, he just did it. He never pretended with him, he was just his bitchy, overly attached self, and Eddie had never had a problem, if anything he encouraged it.

In hindsight, Steve had never had a chance.

He was in love with him. He was in love with him and he wanted to puke. He had Eddie take him straight home after that, with a half truth about feeling like shit. And then he had to wave him off from trying to take care of him, the ass. Like making Steve fall in love with him wasn’t enough, he had to genuinely care about him too? It just made him feel worse.

He had called Robin immediately, because what else could he do? He told her the whole shitty story, and like the angel she was, she talked him through it, sexuality crisis included. She made the argument that if he could fight demons with his bare hands, than he could more than handle being gay for one dude. Which...maybe wasn’t the most sound reasoning, but it worked.

They developed a system, Steve could whine and cry to Robin about his hopeless infatuation, and hang out with Eddie like nothing was wrong. And when Eddie eventually moved on with a girlfriend, Steve would just lock himself in his room for two weeks and cry like a loser until he got over it. It was a good plan, and he felt like he had everything under control.

Until he didn’t.

It was another Friday night, and Steve was always over at Eddie’s on Fridays. And Saturdays. And Sundays. And occasionally on Wednesday and Thursday. Almost always on Mondays and Tuesdays.

Okay, so he borderline just lived there when he wasn’t working, but so what? Eddie always seemed happy to see him, and Wayne didn’t mind. He was reading a comic on Eddie’s bed, while Eddie was fiddling with his guitar, staring into space.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hm?”

Eddie was quiet for a second, pausing before asking, “Why don’t you date girls anymore?”

Steve was only half-listening, still engrossed in what he was reading, “Don’t really have the time.”

“But you do have the time. Like…now is the time. You can tell me if I’m the one getting in the way of that.”

Steve shrugged, flipping the page, “You’re never in the way. I just like spending time with you more than random girls, y’know?”

He could hear Eddie put down his guitar to join Steve on the bed, his voice a little shaky, “Steve, if I ask you something that’s, uh, kinda out there, will you promise you won’t be mad?”

Steve rolled his eyes, impatient as he re-read the same part over again, "If it’s quick, I’m getting to the good part here dude.”

Eddie took a deep breath, voice soft as he asked, "Are you in love with me?”

Steve could feel his heart stop in his chest, and for a brief second, he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a heart attack felt like. His head shot up, comic forgotten, eyes wide as he stared at Eddie’s questioning face. His mind was racing too fast to form a coherent thought. How did he figure it out? Was Steve that obvious? Was…was he mad? Would he be mad? Would he hate him? Call him a queer and kick him out of the trailer? By the time he thought of the simple answer to just deny it, he had already been staring at Eddie with his mouth hanging open for a full minute.

The window for believability was definitely closed on that front.

The whole thing felt unfair. He…he had tried this time. Really, really tried to not let his stupid feelings come into play, but here he was again, caught and about to get his heart smashed to a thousand pieces.

Eddie was still waiting for an answer, tense as he searched Steve’s face. Steve licked his lips, opening and closing his mouth like an idiot before managing to squeak out, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie was still staring at him, expression unreadable as he asked again, “So…you are?”

Steve looked away, staring back at his stupid comic book as he nodded, vision blurring. Christ, he was going to cry. Eddie was going to scream at him, or never talk to him again, or god forbid try to be understanding while shutting it down. He’d have to watch their relationship slowly dissolve while Eddie kept a healthy distance away, probably take the time to fall for some pretty girl who wasn’t a clingy and annoying fuck like Steve was.

He froze when he felt Eddie’s hand on his chin, forcing his head up to meet his eyes. This was it, the end of everything. He could barely fucking see with all the tears in his eyes, but then Eddie was wiping them away and he was…smiling at him?

“Thank God,” Eddie breathed, leaning in until their lips touched. They were kissing. Eddie Munson was kissing him. And even through his shock, Steve was damn sure kissing him back.

Eddie was trying to talk to him, pulling away to get a few words out before going right back in to press their mouths together, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Steve was the one who had to pull away, as reluctant as he was he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming here, “Y-you’re not mad?”

Eddie seemed to vaguely understand that they still needed to talk, but that wasn’t stopping him from kissing every other part of Steve’s face, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because…” Because I’m a guy? Because you could do better? Because I’m a suffocating freak who already takes up most of your time? “Because I’m me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Oh no, the man I’m in love with is himself. Whatever will I do?”

Steve froze for the second time at that, a smile slowly spreading over his face, “You love me?”

“I love you, you love me, and I would really appreciate it if we could just make-out on my bed now that-”

Eddie didn’t even get the full sentence out before Steve was on him, tackling him on the bed to smash their lips back together.

And sure, Steve was still scared shitless about the possibility that Eddie would wake up one day and realize he could do better, but for now? He’d take it.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #you'll pry my insanely long posts out of my cold dead hands #Yes Steve #you are that obvious #might do a part two to counter all the negative Steve self thoughts #this one's forever kiddo #but can you blame him? #nancy did a number on the boy

[frightenedofrabbits]

To Thine Own Self Be True

Summary: Billy grapples with the causes and effects of his alcohol addiction while celebrating one month of sobriety.

CW: References to past child abuse, mentions of alcohol addiction and recovery, brief use of the f***** slur in reference to one's self. Be safe and take care.

Word Count: 2940

Also available on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541203

Billy sat quietly on the park bench outside the church where he was waiting to be picked up. Between his lips rested a lit cigarette that was supposed to be calming his nerves but was hardly effective at doing so. Instead, his mind continued to race with all the thoughts about how fucked up he was, how impossible it seemed to ever really change. Unconsciously, Billy gripped tightly onto the small metal coin in his hand, gripping it so hard that the smooth metal edge dug into the palm of his hand, hurting a little and then a lot. When the pain became too much Billy loosened his grip and  glanced down at the coin in his hand, it was a bronze color with the words ‘To Thine Own Self Be True’ etched into it. He’d just received the coin that night as he celebrated one month of sobriety. 

Billy’s mind raced with what this meant for him. He had made it one whole month without a drink. According to his sponsor this month was the hardest, it would get easier from now on, now that the withdrawal symptoms are mostly over. Billy recalled the sleepless nights, the headaches, the mood swings, and the overwhelming anger he’d cycled through this month. It had been horrible, he had been horrible. But now things were calming down a little. He could make it an hour or two at a time now without thinking about having a drink. He could trust himself to walk to the store without wandering towards the liquor store where the old man behind the counter would give him a nod as he bought bottles of cheap booze. 

But sobriety was not easy nor was it enjoyable. Billy hadn’t even thought he had a problem until that night over a month ago when he got pulled over for drunk driving and was arrested and given a DWI. Billy had driven while intoxicated so many times before, but this night he got caught. Getting arrested by the man who was like a father to him had finally started to awake Billy to the reality that he might have a problem. Then, the next day Hopper and Steve sat him down, and told him he needed to get help. It wasn’t an intervention nor an ultimatum, but it was a heavy suggestion from the two people he valued most in the world. Billy had tearfully agreed to give up drinking and it was from that day on that he hadn’t had a single drink of alcohol. 

Billy wanted to be proud of himself for receiving his 30-day chip, for making it this long without a drink. But his pride was overshadowed by all the negative thoughts racing through his mind. Drinking had been fun for him, he’d started drinking at a young age, going to parties and getting wasted was a way of life as a teenager. It wasn’t a problem because he was a good student, he kept his grades up and played sports. So what he spent his weekends getting so wasted he couldn’t remember most of what he’d done? It was just having fun so it was no big deal. After graduation Billy had gotten a job working for a local mechanic, he had the grades for college but not the money so he was still stuck here. But it wasn’t all bad, he had his boyfriend Steve and they had their own place on the edge of town. 

Except slowly but surely the drinking began creeping into the week. A drink right after work, turned into a whole twelve pack right after work. Eventually this led to a few beers before work which to be fair Billy knew was wrong. He knew it was bad enough to be drinking in the morning that he hid it from his boyfriend.  Going to work drunk had begun to create its own set of problems. Just a few days before his arrest, Billy had almost dropped a car onto himself because he’d been so out of it he almost pressed the wrong lever on the car jack. His boss had been standing right beside him and caught it in time but it was a close call. 

The first thirty days of his sobriety had been difficult and would certainly have not been successful without Steve’s constant presence and support. But his new sobriety left Billy with a lot to grapple and he began to realize the reasons he probably drank so much in the first place. The worst part of sobriety had been the near constant voice in his head, that of his father reminding him of what a piece of shit he was, how disgusting he was for being gay. Even though Billy hadn’t seen his father once in the three years since high school graduation, the legacy of his father’s abuse still lived with him. Now he was reminded of his father’s words every time he held onto Steve’s hand for comfort or laid his head on Steve’s lap while they watched TV.  He had his father’s voice calling him weak, calling him a faggot. He’d have to fight with himself to keep his hand in Steve’s and to keep his head on Steve’s lap where he felt so safe and comfortable. 

Billy began to realize one of the reasons he drank so much is because it dulled the memories and the pain of what his father inflicted on him. Every punch to the face, every kick to the rib, every horrible word his father had screamed in his face felt so much clearer now. The memories of his mother were clearer now too. The good came along with the bad. He could remember her beautiful golden curls and the smell of her perfume better. But he could also remember the fights and seeing his dad hurt his mom. Worst of all he could remember too clearly the day his mom killed herself, the day his dad found her hanging in the garage. Having to see the paramedics wheel her body down the driveway and to their vehicle in a black bag. 

Billy found himself unable to sleep much because of the memories and the way they assaulted both his waking and sleeping hours. He tried to hide his pain still, tried not to let Steve see him breakdown when it all became too much. But just last night, Steve had found him curled up and crying on the bathroom floor and finally Billy began to start opening up to Steve about his mom. About the reason they’d even moved to Indiana in the first place because he kissed a boy and his dad found out and broke several of his bones. Billy knew he needed to open up about his past more and he knew both Steve and Hopper wanted to help him but it was easier said than done. 

He’d been alone for so much of his life, alone with his pain and heartbreak. He was always so alone with anger and fear and his only outlet had been to lash out at others, to spread his pain around so he wasn’t the only one with it. But then he’d found Steve, he’d wisened up enough to apologize to Steve and having someone around who genuinely cared had helped him so much. But love couldn’t fix all the demons that lived within Billy and he was just starting to realize he had a lot more work to do. 

When Billy thought back to the night of his arrest it was mostly a blur. He had been a 12-pack deep by the time Jim Hopper pulled him over so any memories he had were fuzzy at best. But he remembered the feeling of sobering up in the jail cell, of looking out and seeing Hopper looking at him with sadness and disappointment. Waves of shame had rolled over Billy as he realized the gravity of his mistake. Hopper had been there for him since high school, since that time when his dad went too far. It was thanks to Hopper that the last half of his senior year was injury free and Hopper had even rented his old single wide trailer to him and Steve after they graduated. Hopper was someone Billy looked up to and wanted to be like and it was in the moment that he sat looking out of a jail cell that he knew he’d let the man down. 

Billy had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard or seen the Beemer park in front of him. It wasn’t until he heard his name yelled that Billy looked up and saw his boyfriend waiting for him. Billy rose from the bench where he sat in front of the Grace Emmanuel Church, the basement of which his AA meetings were held. Steve was smiling softly, his brown hair tousled gently in the soft summer wind and his face aglow from the golden light of the setting sun. Billy held his breath for a moment as he gazed upon perfection. His chest panged with a moment of doubt, doubt that he deserved someone so perfect while he was so fucked up. Steve was good, easily the most kind hearted person he knew. Billy wrestled with his own selfish desire to love Steve and what his mind reasoned was the right thing to do and let him go so he could be with someone more worthy. 

Billy tried to shake the thoughts from his mind as he walked forward and went to the passenger side door of the Beemer. His Camaro sat idle in their driveway at home as his license was suspended for the next five months. As soon as Billy sat in the car Steve leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Hey baby, how was your meeting today?” Steve asked in a gentle and interested voice. 

Billy shrugged noncommittally. “It was fine, I got this,” Billy said as he held up the thirty day chip to show Steve. 

Steve’s smile grew larger as he took in the bronze colored metal chip that signified the 30 days Billy had been sober. “Wow babe, I am so freaking proud of you. I know how hard it’s been but you’ve stuck with it.”

Billy felt slightly embarrassed by Steve’s praise. Part of him was happy to be recognized for his efforts because it had been really fucking difficult. But another part of him felt ashamed to be in this position in the first place, the only reason he was here and getting this chip was because he was so fucked up. 

“Thanks Steve,” Billy muttered quietly as he kept his other thoughts to himself. They were quiet during the drive home, the only sound in the car was the Led Zeppelin cassette Billy had bought for Steve when they first started dating playing gently in the background. Billy let his mind wander as the music and the gentle pressure of Steve’s hand resting on his thigh helped to ease his racing mind. Finally Steve pulled up to the single wide trailer that was their home. The two of them were saving up money to move, but it was slow going. 

Billy followed Steve into the house, all the while clutching the coin in his hand. Once inside, Steve spun around and pulled Billy into an embrace, one which Billy melted into. Steve was and always would be his happy place. “So proud of you baby.” Steve muttered into Billy’s ear once again before moving to plant a sweet and gentle kiss on his lips. They parted but Steve still had his arm wrapped around Billy’s waist as they moved to their small and cluttered kitchen. Steve loved to cook but wasn’t always the best at it, but he practiced a lot and was genuinely improving. Billy only had to pat his slightly pudgier midsection to appreciate how far Steve had come. Gone were his days of being a high school athlete, the lean muscle of his younger years had faded fast once he was no longer playing basketball. 

Billy let himself be led to the kitchen and was surprised to see a chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table. Steve led him over to the cake and Billy stopped when he saw it. “Surprise!” Steve shouted, a smile spreading across his face as he watched Billy take in the sight. On top of the cake in sloppy white writing it read ‘Happy 30 Days Sober’. Billy couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the cake. 

“Steve you shouldn’t have,” Billy muttered shyly.

“I wanted to surprise you and celebrate your accomplishment. You amaze me everyday with your strength and dedication and I just always want you to know that I see it. I see your struggle and your perseverance and I love you more because of it.”

Billy felt like he might just cry upon hearing Steve’s words to him. He fought back the tears but let out a small chuckle. “No babe, you really shouldn’t have,” Billy said as he patted his stomach. “I don’t really need anymore cake babe.”

Steve swung around so he was facing Billy once again, this time his expression a little darker. “You’re still the single most sexy man I’ve ever seen in my life and you always will be. You’ll definitely be just as sexy to me after you eat some of the delicious cake that I made you.” Billy swallowed, suddenly feeling a little turned on by the way Steve was looking at him and Billy let any worry about his physique melt away. The two turned back to look at the cake and that’s when Billy saw an envelope sitting on the table next to the cake. 

“Did you get me a card babe?” Billy asked as he reached for the white envelope. “No,” Steve said as he shook his head. “Max dropped it off earlier. She wanted to give it to you herself but she has to study for a big exam tomorrow so she just left it with me.” 

Billy tore the envelope open and inside was a card with a cute little orange kitten on it. Inside the card Max had written about how proud of him she was and that she loved him and was happy to have him as her brother. This time Billy couldn’t hold back the few tears that streamed down his cheeks.”Fuck,” Billy muttered as he swiped at the tears frantically, he still held so much shame about being a boy who cried. He tried to remember that it was normal to cry and it didn’t make him weak but his father’s voice still lived within him, taunting. 

Steve wrapped Billy up in his arms and held him as Billy cried. He cried for the little boy he’d been. The boy whose mom killed herself, the boy who realized he liked other boys, the boy whose father hit him, the angry boy, the sad boy, the anxious boy, the self-doubting boy. He cried for the man he had become. The man who was surrounded by love but still damaged by his past. The man who was trying so hard to fix his life and be someone worthy of the love and affection of those around him. It was all so difficult but he only had to realize he was wrapped in the arms of the man he loved to remember that he wasn’t doing this alone. He only had to look forward at the polaroid images that littered their refrigerator where he saw a photo of him and Hopper shoveling his car out of the snow last winter. He saw the photo of him and Max wearing matching Santa hats, her smiling and him grimacing. He saw the photo of him and Dustin mid-argument during a game of Dungeons and Dragons, with Steve sitting behind the two of them looking bored out of his mind. These were the photos of his family, of the people who loved him and supported him. 

Billy’s tears finally dried and the heaviness that had been in his heart eased up a bit. Steve still held him but slowly Billy was able to pull away. “I love you so fucking much Steve, wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you.”

Steve smiled gently, “It’s a good thing you never have to be without me. I love you Billy, so so so much.”

Billy smiled and pushed away the thoughts of doubt that tried to creep in. He let himself enjoy a sense of calm as he watched Steve cut them both a much too big slice of cake and pour them each a glass of milk. The two ate their cake and made easy conversation about their day as they ate. As Steve talked about one of the kids he watched at the daycare center Billy looked down at the bronze coin which rested on the table beside his plate. He took in the etched triangle design and the giant number 1 inside of it. He had made it 30 days and all he had to do was take it one day at a time. It was in that moment as he took the last bite of delicious chocolate cake and listened to the love of his life talk that Billy finally felt some assurance that he could do it. There would be more coins in his future, for the first time in a month, Billy finally felt like he could make it.

#harringrove #billy hargrove and steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfic #billy hargrove and steve harrington fanfic #alcoholic billy hargrove #billy hargrove recovery

[honeypiehotchner]

clementine (steve rogers x reader) -- part two

I’m back! And there will probably be a part three...I’m a mess. But, I watched the first Captain America movie last weekend and guys...I can’t wait for the semester break. I’m going to get sucked into this universe so quickly; I’m apologizing in advance because I will probably be writing up a storm.

Warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, maybe a tiny bit of sadness/angst, but mostly fluff, probably some out-of-character stuff happening here, Tony being a little shit, the works

Word Count: 3.6k

I left my daydreams at the gate because I just can’t take ‘em, too/I know my heart still has a suitcase, but I still can’t take it through...

The mission takes a week and a half.

Natasha ended up staying behind with you. She wouldn’t tell you, but you’re almost positive Tony asked her to stay behind to keep an eye on you. You don’t really mind because you know the mission wasn’t going to be that difficult at all anyway. The guys can handle it.

You’ve enjoyed the week off. And getting to spend it with Natasha and Pepper has made you feel miles better than how you were feeling when the week began. Something about watching movies in bed with your best friends heals all the bad feelings in your bones.

Of course, the topic of Steve Rogers did come up. And of course, you told them how he had asked you out in the gym.

They were both conflicted between being frustrated with you for turning him down and being proud of you for standing your ground. 

“I’m just scared I ruined it,” you had admitted, the movie on the TV screen long forgotten. “Like, he’s probably given up now, hasn’t he?”

Natasha shook her head. “I don’t think he has.”

“If he really likes you, he’s not going to be turned off that easily,” Pepper added. “You didn’t tell him you weren’t interested, did you?”

“I just said not right now,” you shrugged. “Because I want to. I just couldn’t. Not the literal day after I told him I was upset about him bringing a girl home because I thought he and I had something. That just felt like a pity date.”

“No,” Pepper nodded in understanding. “You did good.”

“And if I taught him anything -- believe me, I tried -- he’ll ask again. Trust me,” Natasha winks, poking your arm.

~~~

I don’t need anyone...

Steve had never felt more distracted on a mission before. And he knows everyone on the team noticed. He’s not an idiot. He saw the looks the guys were giving each other.

No one has spoken a word to him about it, but as soon as they return home, he can practically hear all those unsaid words.

“Okay,” Steve turns around, looking between Tony, Bucky, and Sam. “What is it?”

“What’s what?” Sam asks, deciding to play dumb, which only earns him a harsh look from Steve.

“You all want to say something, so lay it on me.”

“Alright,” Bucky shrugs. “I think you should stop being a coward and ask her out.”

Steve gives Bucky the look, too. “No.”

“Why not?” Bucky laughs loudly. “It’s painful, man.”

“It is,” Tony agrees.

“She said no.”

“She said not right now, dumbass,” Sam joins in. “It’s been what? Two weeks almost? You can ask again.”

“She doesn’t want to,” Steve replies weakly.

“Listen, ‘76--”

“Stop calling me that.”

“No,” Tony snaps, holding up his hand. “I know you don’t know how dating works in today’s day and age, so let me enlighten you.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“She said not right now because you can’t ask her out after that conversation,” Tony explains. “You were stupid for asking that soon. She’s stubborn and protective, so you that was stupid on you to ask right away. But you’ve been away for a week or two, and she’s been with Nat and Pepper, so you need to ask again. If you don’t, she’s gonna move on without your ass, and we won’t be able to help then.”

“You’re not even helping right now.”

“I’m telling you to quit being an idiot and shoot your shot.”

“Shoot my what?”

Tony glances around at the confused faces and rolls his eyes. “Peter said that the other day. I’ll tell him it doesn’t work. Anyway,” he turns back to Steve. “Ask her out. Don’t be a wimp.”

“I’m not a wimp!”

“Then ask her,” Bucky replies seriously. “Or she’s gonna move on. Seriously.”

~~~

The building is quiet.

Well, it’s nearly two in the morning, so that’s probably why, but you feel like the guys should be up...celebrating or something. The mission went well, as expected, or so you heard. Maybe it didn’t go as well as you heard and that’s why they aren’t celebrating.

Who knows.

You sit in the main area, your blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You can’t sleep because you’ve done so much sleeping. Your hand has healed completely, but you’ve been advised to take it easy.

Which is the only real reason you’re not in the gym right now. You also should try to sleep at some point, if you can. Whenever that is. And if you even want to. It’s much more peaceful sitting out here on the couch, looking out at the stars.

Steve can’t sleep either. He’s been thinking about you since he got back, but he hasn’t seen you. He’s been too nervous, so he’s been careful to be everywhere you’re not -- which isn’t hard when you were busy with Pepper.

So you can imagine why he stops dead in his tracks when he walks into the main room and sees you. You’re normally asleep by now in bed -- to be fair, so is he -- so when he sees you sitting there, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders while you look out the window, he freezes.

He could turn and go back to his room. It would be so easy. 

Or he could go talk to you. Just talk. Just see what happens. That would also be easy, but it’s much more terrifying than the first option.

His heart makes the decision for him because before he knows it, he’s walking over toward the couch to you.

You see movement out of the corner of your eye, and your mind assumes it’s Tony coming to scold you about being up so late, but when you turn your head, you see it’s Steve.

Your lips stretch into a smile before you can stop them. “Hey you.”

Steve smiles in return, relieved to not see a trace of any negative expression on your face. “Hey.” He settles onto the couch next to you, not too far away, but not close enough. If you didn’t have as much self-control as you do, you really would scoot closer and curl into him. Despite the blanket, you’re freezing, and he’s always so warm. He’s just in a t-shirt and some sweatpants, but his chest looks comfy as hell--

But you can’t think about that right now.

“How was the mission?” You ask, deciding to focus on something else, something safer.

“Good,” he nods, his smile turning teasing. “Business as usual.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course.”

“How was your week off?” He asks, looking over at you sincerely.

“Good,” you reply with a nod, then elaborating. “I needed it. Nat and Pepper and I basically watched movies all week.” And talked about you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you smile a little, glad you can say that and mean it. “A lot better.” You pause, tugging on your blanket. “Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

“How are you doing?” You finally ask after a second. You remember how sad he looked the last time you saw him because you told him not right now on the dinner date. You didn’t want to make him feel bad when you turned him down, but you saw it on his face, even though he had smiled at you and said it was okay.

“I’m okay.”

“Steve,” you whisper, not meaning to reach out and touch his bare arm, but you do. You register how insane it is, but you don’t move, and neither does he. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry,” he finally says, shaking his head when you try to tell him it’s fine. “And I know you said it was nothing, but it wasn’t nothing. It really hurt you and I’m so sorry. I never meant to stress you out like that.”

You almost tell him it’s okay, but you stop yourself, remembering a conversation you had with Pepper.

“Thank you,” you nod, letting your hand naturally fall from his arm, but you take the moment to shift around, so you can discreetly move closer. “You’re forgiven.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, settling further into your blanket. “I forgave you the day I told you about it.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a tendency to read too far into things,” you murmur. “And I fantasize a lot and end up hurting myself, so when you had no clue what I was talking about, I figured it was just in my head.”

“What was in your head?”

“The flirting.” You didn’t think you were going to have to spell it out for him, but maybe this is a sign that since he’s been away on a mission, he’s lost interest. “Never mind,” you chuckle.

“No, wait,” Steve rushes out, even though you’re not leaving, but he’s scared you might, so he speaks carefully. “It was…flirting. I just didn’t know-- I’m really bad at this. I thought I was flirting, but I didn’t know if you felt the same, so I just never brought it up because I didn’t want to upset you.” He pauses, staring down at your hands. If he wasn’t so scared, he’d reach over and grab yours. “I also just didn’t know if it was in my head, too.”

His words ring in your ears long after he finishes, and you don’t look at him for the long moments of silence after that.

“You’re not bad at it,” you say, not entirely sure why, and it even confuses Steve.

“What?”

“You’re not bad at flirting,” you repeat, a small smile gracing your lips. “I miss it.”

He laughs, but it isn’t really a laugh, it’s more of a grin with a relieved breath and he shakes his head, mostly at himself. “Me too.”

“Are you going to hate me if I hug you?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

You take that as a no, so you scoot closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. “I’m fucking cold.”

He laughs again, this time wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “I don’t know how.”

“How are you always warm?” You counter. “It’ll be freezing outside and you’re walking around in shorts like a maniac.”

More laughter, the rumble in his chest causing you to smile. When he stops, you close your eyes, and you’re suddenly aware that you’re listening to his heartbeat.

You never understood why it was written -- and why you wrote -- in fanfictions that laying on someone’s chest and hearing their heartbeat was so intimate. Now you understand. Now you don’t want to move.

~~~

Natasha leaves her room and heads toward yours, ready to wake you up for your morning workout. But when she finds your room empty, she starts to worry.

Her worry doesn’t last long because she stumbles upon Tony in the hallway, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. And when she sees what he’s looking at, she understands.

You have a blanket wrapped around you, but you’re curled up on Steve’s chest, the both of you sleeping soundly on the couch in the main room. Nat has no idea when the two of you came out here, but it must’ve been late, because it’s almost nine and you’re both asleep.

“They talked.”

“I don’t know,” Nat replies, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You meant it when you said Tony was like a father figure to you. And even though he came to your room with the pizza Steve ordered and told you he thought Steve was still a good guy, he’s still going to be protective of you. Tony does think Steve is a good guy with his heart a little misplaced sometimes, but not often. But that won’t stop him from being hard on Steve to be sure he’s good to you.

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“You can say you are,” Nat snickers quietly. “I know you are, anyway.”

“If he breaks her heart again, I’ll kill him.”

Nat rolls her eyes, patting his shoulder. “Something tells me she’ll kill him first. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

You smile a little, halfway between sleep and consciousness as you listen to Natasha and Tony. You’re closer to sleep than you are consciousness, though, because you fall back asleep a few seconds later, tightening your grip on Steve’s waist.

Steve feels the movement and opens his eyes only a little, seeing your sleeping form on his chest. He leans down to kiss the top of your head before drifting off again.

~~~

It’s close to noon when you wake up again, your knees screaming from how you’ve been laying. You stretch out your legs, sitting up to find Steve awake, looking at you through sleepy eyes with a small smile gracing his lips.

Your face flushes red when you realize you fell asleep on him. “Morning.”

“Morning,” he pauses to shift his arm. “Did you sleep good?”

“Yeah,” you admit, a little sheepishly. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. I slept better last night than I have in a while.”

“Seriously? With me wrapped around you like a koala?”

“Koala...can I call you that now?”

“Steve!”

“What?” He grins, shoving your shoulder lightly.

“Are you two done?”

You both freeze, turning to look behind you where the voice came from -- Tony’s voice. It sounded teasing, but you honestly aren’t sure. He’s hard to read sometimes.

But when you see the knowing grin on Tony’s face, you know he’s fucking with you.

“Sleep well?”

“Yes, actually,” you cross your arms over your chest, not letting his teasing get to you. “Why?”

“You looked comfortable, that’s all.”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” Tony breathes deeply. “I’m going to lunch with Pepper.”

“Have fun,” you call out as he starts walking away. “Tell her I miss her.”

Tony pauses, getting an idea. He slowly turns around, walking back into the main room with a smile. “You should come with. Bring Stars and Stripes, too.”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head.

“I’ll come, just let me get dressed,” you slide off the couch, your legs bumping against Steve’s, causing him to look up at you. You smile softly at his expectant gaze. “Do you want to come with?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, obviously trying to act nonchalant around Tony, but you know if you didn’t ask, he would’ve been a little sad.

Tony tries to hide his grin. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

~~~

You and Steve meet up again in the elevator purely on accident. Bashful smiles are shared as he presses the down arrow.

“What are we getting ourselves into?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Steve chuckles. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you let out an awkward laugh of your own. “It’s too late now.”

The elevator doors open, revealing Tony and Pepper standing in the lobby. Pepper grins widely when she sees you standing with Steve, glad the two of you have talked things out at least somewhat. She, of course, doesn’t know the extent of which the two of you talked, but she hopes it was enough.

And judging by the way Steve let you walk out first, his eyes lingering on the back of your head a little too long, she thinks you talked. He looks to Pepper, seeing she’s caught him, and he smiles sheepishly.

Pepper shakes her head. She knows that look, and he’s got it bad for you.

Tony claps his hands. “Ready, lovebirds?”

You roll your eyes. “Stop it.”

But Tony only grins. He’s going to have fun with this, and you all know it.

~~~

Since lunch was originally supposed to be Tony and Pepper only, it’s at quite possibly the most romantic restaurant Tony could find. And since he’s Tony Stark, they had no problem with him changing his reservation from a party of two to four.

Only now this seems like a double-date.

Steve pulls your chair out for you, causing you to smile without registering it. He takes the seat next to you, with Tony in front of him and Pepper in front of you. Pepper gives you a wild grin, raising her eyebrows.

It doesn’t help that you poured your heart out to her and Natasha last week about Steve. And now you’re on a (possible) date with the man.

This is going to be chaotic.

“So, Steve,” Tony begins as soon as the waiter leaves with everyone’s drink orders. “How are you?”

You’re giving Tony a hard look from the second he opened his mouth. He didn’t use a nickname for Steve, which can only mean he’s up to no good.

“I’m good,” Steve replies slowly, glancing to Pepper for help. “How…How are you?”

“I’m great,” Tony grins, leaving the conversation at that.

You roll your eyes, leaning forward a little to give Pepper a pleading look. “How do you put up with him?”

“I ask myself that every day,” she replies sincerely, then turning to give Tony a look. “Stop it.”

“Stop what? What am I doing?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

You know what he’s doing, too. Tony is obviously going to shift into protective-father mode now that you and Steve have settled things.

Well, you’ve kind of settled things. You’re on good terms again, at least, and the awkward tension has gone.

Or at least it was.

“So, Y/N, what have you been up to?”

You knew the question was oddly worded and brought up at an odd time in conversation because you never would have predicted what he was going to say to you. At the table. In front of Steve.

“Did you do any writing, you know, to pass the time?” Tony waves his hands. “Write anymore of Lavender?”

Your face falls, and you swear all the blood in your body dries up. Steve is still looking at you because he didn’t know you wrote anything at all. Granted, neither of you have opened up to each other about your past all that much. It has come up in conversations sometimes, but nothing in depth. So, he had no idea you wrote.

And you had actually planned on keeping it that way, until Tony had to go and open his big damn mouth.

“What’s Lavender?” Steve asks, God help him, curiosity in his eyes in the most sincere way, a true contrast from the wicked grin on Tony’s face.

And the confused look Pepper is giving you, which makes you feel better, knowing she wasn’t in on this. You’re not happy about this moment either way, but at least it was Tony’s scheme alone. You should’ve expected this from him, if you’re being honest. And it’s a true miracle it’s taken him this long to find it.

“It’s just a book,” you explain, trying to brush it off. “I wrote it when I was a teenager, nothing remarkable.”

But Steve thinks it’s remarkable, and so does Pepper. They’ve both got wide eyes.

“A book?” Pepper gasps. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“You wrote a book when you were a teenager?” Steve whispers, staring at you in disbelief.

“How long is it?”

“I don’t remember,” you chuckle, hoping that talking about it this way will get Tony to drop the topic entirely. Maybe he’ll see it got enough of a rise out of you, and he’ll leave it alone.

But you know better than to think that.

“It’s more of a novel,” Tony gushes, but he’s making fun of you. “I think I saw it was close to a hundred thousand words?”

“That is a novel!” Pepper practically yells. “Y/N! What was it about?”

There it is.

“Just a cheesy love story,” you shake your head. “Nothing special, just got me through the lonely days as a teenager, that’s all.”

“That’s not all…” Tony’s voice trails away, giving you the chance to fill in what he’s no doubt leaving out, but you glare at him. You’re not going to say it, and you dare him to. You fucking dare him to.

“Have you read it?” Pepper asks him, incredulity in her face and words. “And you didn’t tell me about it?”

While they argue, Steve nudges your arm, his sincere gaze meeting yours as he asks, “What’s it about?”

“You don’t want to know, really,” you reply truthfully.

“Why not?” He asks, nudging your arm playfully. You can tell he’s trying to lighten the situation because you’ve been visibly uncomfortable since Tony brought it up, but it isn’t working.

You’d really rather all conversation about this stupid fanfiction of yours stop immediately.

So, you shrug your shoulders, hoping that it’ll stop. “It’s not that great.” You’d also probably think I’m creepy and you’d never want to be near me ever again.

“It is great,” Tony presses. He’s going to keep doing this, pressing just far enough but not crossing the line because he wants you to cross it instead, but you refuse to.

The conversation is broken then by the waiter returning to the table with everyone’s food. And thank God for Steve Rogers, because he starts a completely different conversation with Tony, distracting him enough to get the topic off of your book.

You and Pepper talk idly while Steve scolds Tony for something you can’t even remember now. All you remember is talking with Pepper, and stealing glances at Steve whenever he’d say something particularly sassy.

Pepper caught you looking once and gave you a knowing smile, causing your face to flush.

Apparently, you’re both so obvious.

Who knew.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x avenger!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #this was supposed to be a one shot #now it's a mini series #because i'm a hot mess #but what else is new? #fluff #maybe some tiny angst at the beginning #mostly fluff #teeth rotting fluff #tony stark #pepper potts #tony being a little shit #but again what else is new?

[anonthenullifier]

Post Hoc

An “And They Were Research Collaborators!” AU

Inspired by this post - “we invited an eccentric billionaire to our fake wedding in the hopes of getting a free present, but then they said they would come and now we have to have an actual fake wedding for them to attend.”

Abstract

The current research seeks to marry the fields of quantum mechanics and social-cognitive psychology to present the first study of its kind to apply quantum probability to prosocial behavior. Helping behaviors of the elite one percent were tested using a novel paradigm that involved the low-impact, positively valanced behavior of gift giving for a wedding. It was hypothesized that the monetary amount of gifts provided would align with pre-determined factors of entanglement informed by the literature. The hypotheses were partially supported. The application of quantum theory to psychology is discussed as well as the unique and unexpected extraneous variables that should be included in future models.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: Introduction

This room, just like all other rooms, is predictable. What at first appears a hodgepodge of chattering people quickly dissolves into order. Clusters of academics dot the rows of pleather chairs, each department banning together to save seats and gossip about who just got turned down by that one reviewer again or why Mathematics is currently not speaking with Chemistry. This in-group favoritism does not stop here, however, these smaller groupings branching into larger ones, the right side of the room, closest to the doors, are the physical scientists, and then there is an almost straight line of empty seats going from the front of the room to the back, cross over it and you reach the social scientists, similarly grouped by department, similarly chatting about successes and failures in attaining funding and how the tepid fifteen year feud between criminology and political science just heated back up with a passive aggressive email. 

Vision technically is sitting on the correct side, about two rows from the other psychologists, but he does not mind the self-ostracism since sitting in the back of the room allows him to better observe the meeting unfold into a dance of egos and sharp wit. Or so he assumes, this is his first all staff meeting with the Marvel Institute, but it is far from his first academic gathering, and people have a tendency to follow patterns. Next to him, contrary to where she should be seated based on the flow of allegiances, yet in line with some of the literature on prosocial behaviors, Natasha slouches, one foot on the back of the chair in front of her, eyes rolling at the heated story coming from the front right corner of the room. 

“Is there a special significance to the meeting today?”

She leans her head back and smiles at him, not unlike the snarl of a panther that has just happened upon a gathering a defenseless baby monkeys. “Oh yeah, people are going to be so pissed.” 

Some people find negative events, well, negative, while some relish in the misery of others.  Natasha is a proponent of the latter, the cutthroat nature of their job the perfect environment for her to thrive, something he has been envious of since they first met through mutual friends in graduate school. For what it’s worth, Vision has never been one for even casual schadenfreude. “Why is that?”

“Steve,” one of the main administrators of the think tank who also happens to be on a bowling team with Natasha, “said the board is threatening to cut funding if we all don’t start collaborating.”

Vision mentally scoffs, not really at the idea of collaborating since he intends to work closely with demography and sociology once he’s better established, but at the way the administration is speeding past all other avenues of empirically sound persuasion straight to the tactic most likely to cause defection. Perhaps he should send them a summary of the key findings in the area. “What are they going to do, throw our names into a hat and choose at random?”  

“Please don’t give them any ideas.”

An authoritative tapping of heels silences most of the gossiping. The head of HR steps up to a podium at the front of the room, her well-tailored pencil skirt, white silk shirt, and fuchsia cardigan creating an overall persona of power as she clears her throat into the microphone.  “Can I have everyone’s attention please.” At this point, there is nothing to argue about, so no one counters, voices dropping off into a wary silence. “Today’s meeting will be brief on my end,” a sardonic hooray comes from somewhere in the social sciences. She ignores it with aplomb. “If you recall, at our last companywide meeting, it was requested by our donors that you all,” patronizing tones are not an ideal way to get people on board, another thing he may need to add to the research brief for HR, “needed to embrace the trend of multidisciplinary research and give the Marvel Institute an even higher standing in the world today by providing even more cutting edge ideas.”

Natasha interrupts his attention with a whispered, “Ten bucks she’s about to tell us about another memo.”

He whispers back, “That seems a guarantee.” HR has already sent five memos this week ranging from appropriate attire for the workplace (someone had the audacity to wear flip flops on casual Friday) to cleaning out the fridges in the common space, to some useful ones like new grant sources and the changes to the workplace harassment policies. But it’s only Wednesday so there will be at least 5 more and Vision only takes Natasha’s bets if he has at least a 68% chance of winning. “I believe I will save my money.”

A shoulder nudges him, “You’re no fun.” Vision scoots an inch to the left.

“Immediately after this meeting, I will email you all a memo of what I am about to share.”

As usual, his calculations are correct, the ten dollars happily remaining in his pocket. “Being no fun for the win.”

“Shut up.”

The woman addressing the room straightens her spine, voice dropping into what she likely hopes is the best pitch for compliance. “The board of directors have mandated that every,” she pauses as grumbles begin to surface from all parts of the room, whispers of dissent and bemoaning of academic freedom, a privilege all of them in this room waived (for the most part) when they went into the private sector. She remains unfazed by the slow roiling of animosity, re-beginning and then ending the comment with her head still held high. “They have mandated that every employee must develop a multidisciplinary project with someone else working at the institute.” 

Out of the grumbling sprouts the first open dissent, the head of Computer Science, a lean, well-dressed man, stands to offer his thoughts. “Listen, why don’t you all tell the board to shove their mandates where they belong, because…”

Natasha’s whispering distracts Vision from the end of the comment, yet again, “That’s the other Victor.”  

“Oh.” On his first day he was informed that there was already a Victor working at the Marvel Institute, a man who is so vastly influential, revered, and hated that it might be in his best interest to dissociate from his birth name. Which wasn’t a huge issue. In graduate school he quickly took on the moniker Vision, not by choice, necessarily, but he did not protest the nickname. He hadn’t gone by it since getting his doctorate, determining Victor sounded more professional, yet now that he can watch the other Victor it makes complete sense why Vision was the one asked to use a different name. This Victor is impassioned, powerful, and utilizing the exact body language and tone to compel people to follow him. 

Victor finishes his speech with a hefty, controlled punch to the air, “You will never pry my intellectual freedom from me!” A few amens! rise from both sides of the room. 

“Well,” the head of HR grips the edges of her cardigan, tugging it closer to her body as she bristles at his tone, “no one is taking your freedom. You are free to choose the topic of your study and free to choose the person with which you will be working.”

Victor rolls his eyes and his whole body follows, “So this,” he raises his hands to add air quotes to the next word, “freedom you speak of is conditional?” The woman nods slowly, eyes beginning to look a little cornered. “Fine, then tell the board I already collaborate with Chemistry, Robotics, Engineering, and sometimes even with Physics when I’m desperate.”

“Yes, well, that is wonderful to know, and we thank you for your compelling work, except,” the cardigan is pulled even tighter as she prepares to drop what Vision assumes is going to be the talk of the hallways for a long time, “the board has set the requirements so that you must work with a colleague in a department that is more theoretically and methodologically different from your own. I have a list in the back of the room with acceptable multidisciplinary pairings.” If Vision had realized the handouts would be behind him, he would have sat in the back corner because at the moment every single person is staring at him, well, technically they are staring past him, but it feels the same. “A good rule of thumb is that you must work with someone who has an office in a different wing than your own.” 

“This,” a second dissenter stands, this time from Vision’s side of the room, the fur stole slouching around her shoulders giving off the image of a widowed socialite more so than the world-renowned researcher she is, “is preposterous and a clear sign of distrust and animosity from the board, not to mention a bit draconian of a measure this early on into the initiative. How can we, as independent scholars, be asked to work under such shackles, thrive under the oppressive weight of what people with no understanding of empiricism think is best?”

Vision will give credit to the head of HR, face remaining stoic despite the (not completely unearned) vitriol slung her way. When her hands finally release the wrinkled hem of her sweater, her voice takes on the non-questioning tone parents pull out when all hope seems lost, “Yes, we are forcing you to work with someone new. Yes, we are limiting some of your freedom, but you all use the funding of our donors, enjoy the bounty that this company gives you, have all the newest technology and programs, and for once, you are being asked to do something out of your comfort zone. If you don’t want to do it, fine, but know that it means you will lose your development funds for the next quarter.” 

Nat breathes out, “Told you,” in between this revelation and the next.

“We don’t care how big or small your study is, it can even be a pilot study or a grant application, but you will work together and you have to find your partner today before leaving this room. Have a nice day.”  

She scurries out of the room, leaving them in stunned silence, a rarity with academics, until a mousy man with disheveled hair and a solid stoop to his shoulders walks up to the microphone. “Um so, yeah, we,” he waves his hand around the room to show them the army of interns standing at the doors with clipboards clutched in their hands, “will write down the collaborations you all set up. We only need your names, departments, and a three to ten word description of your idea. Thanks a bunch!”

No one moves, the part in the sea of chairs remaining firm as eyes begin to shift, assessing first if anyone is going against the orders and second, who might be approachable. Vision angles his knees confidently towards Natasha, “I believe we could find a compelling empirical question between our two areas.”

“I’m actually going to work with Sam.” 

Dumfounded, Vision turns to see the colleague in question sending him a jolly little smile and a victorious wave, unable to fully reckon with the sense of abandonment swirling around his head. “But, but you are the only person I, I know…”

The factoid slides away with an easy shrug, “He and I have had an idea for a while, figured we would use this as our opportunity to finally do it.” Which is fine, Vision won’t stop people from collaborating and he, if he considers it logically, can better grasp how Sam’s research on identifying psychological risk factors in the military marries much better with Natasha’s research on advanced mechanized weapons than Vision’s own work in helping behaviors during extraordinary circumstances.  It is a nice melding for them. But, all things considered, it still means that Vision is at a loss. “Just think of this as a way to finally meet people.”

“But I don’t—”

“You know if you had just come out for happy hour and actually met people, I wouldn’t have had to do this.” Predatory smugness rests easy on her lips.

He has only turned down three invitations, all for the sake of unpacking his boxes and organizing his apartment and avoiding the awkwardness of small talk. That is not something worth such a heavy punishment. “Perhaps we can work as a trio?”

Nat’s hair tap dances along her shoulders as she turns down the offer. “Steve sent the memo to me last night, if three people work together, all have to be from different departments.” 

“Wonderful.” Vision joins the rest of the people in the room, sympathetic system in full gear, heart pounding and head a little woozy while he scans the faces around him, not recognizing any of the people on the side of the room he needs to pick from. “Do you have any recommendations?”

“I do, actually, come on.” Blindly Vision follows the red-head, weaving in between the chairs, trying not to make eye contact with any of the desperate faces that sail pass. “Hey,” he spent so much time watching the speckled floor tiles that Vision almost slams into Natasha’s back, “found your partner, as promised.” 

In front of them sits a petite woman, her dark hair falling well below her shoulders in loose waves, the layers of her weathered black clothing blending in with the pleather of the chair. Unlike Vision’s own nerves, she looks impressively unperturbed. “Oh yeah?”

Nat steps aside and pushes Vision closer to the woman, “Meet Vision, from Psychology.” Then she disappears leaving him alone with his collaborator.

“Um...” The woman’s gaze is steady and slightly unnerving. Vision finds himself shifting on his feet, expecting her to stand and then realizes that it makes no sense that she should have to make herself less comfortable to greet him. A new purpose discovered, Vision lowers himself onto the seat two away from her, allowing the comfort of one empty chair for easier conversation. “Hello, I’m, um, Vision.” he sticks out his hand, gray matter flopping uselessly around instead of pulling up all the research he has read on how to make a strong first impression.  

She grips his hand, giving it a solid shake and a, “Figured. Wanda,” before her fingers dive into the pockets of her sweater, and Vision’s, likewise, retreat to tangle in his lap. “So you a clinician like Sam?”

The most logical question would have been a broader, more open ended option like What do you study? for which he has a prepared 30-second elevator pitch he can ramble off in his sleep. He almost does it too, assuming that was the flow of the conversation. Luckily, he catches himself before his misstep, “No, I am a social-cognitive psychologist.”

“Which is?” 

This is a very different elevator pitch, one he has not given in a long time. “Oh, yes, so it simply means that I empirically examine the way situations, external factors, and other people influence an individual’s behavior, beliefs, and thoughts.” 

“Nice. Must be interesting.” 

What had been perceived friendliness at the onset wilts slowly into a polite disinterest and Vision feels oddly more comfortable for it, slipping into his usual comments meant to eschew the common misconceptions of his field. “Please do not be alarmed, I am not reading your mind nor analyzing your every behavior right now.”

Her lips form a marginal curve, falling back into a pucker that matches the scrunched skin of her forehead as she studies him.  “You know, I once had a roommate in college who was convinced I could read her mind because she misread my major. Even bought me a ouija board to help me do my thing.” Now it’s Vision’s turn to be confused, trying to figure out what she could study, since spiritual studies isn’t something to find at this institute. “Physics, Vision...I’m a physicist.”

“Oh,” a low, embarrassed chuckle comes out, “oh that makes far more sense than where my mind went. How long did you let her think that?”

“Based on the occasional emails we send, I think she still believes it.” 

The instant Wanda offers an uncertain little smile, he can feel his own mouth mirror it. “Well, if you are not going to interpret my star sign, what do you do?”

“I primarily focus on quantum mechanics with a specialization in optics.” The explanation stops and Vision tries to nod encouragingly, faintly aware of quantum theory due to a rainy Saturday in grad school when procrastination clearly took on a desperate hue, but that’s not enough to really understand what she does or what their collaboration can be. “I do a lot with wave functions, entropy, and lasers”

“Fascinating.” This doesn’t help him any, lasers not a big methodology in psychology.

With introductions out of the way, they reach a standstill, staring at each other, well, looking at each other and then looking away, Wanda choosing to study the sticker peeling off the chair in front of her while Vision glances towards the exit. This is exactly what people are angry about--being forced to find a common ground when collaboration, in Vision’s experience, always goes better when it happens naturally from two researchers who have similar but slightly different theoretical views on life. Vision tries to place himself back to his day spent going down the quantum rabbit hole, attempting to find anything that might bridge the gap between his world and the woman in front of him. Except he has nothing.  “It has been roughly twelve years since I took a physics class.”

“About ten for me since I had intro to psych.”

An unsurprising parallel, one he won’t let derail his thoughts, “From what I recall, quantum theory is all about predicting the movement and behavior of particles?”

“That’s the gist of it,” based on the way she says it, it seems that he is approaching the dark room of their collaboration with what might amount to an eraser sized flashlight on the last legs of its batteries. “Most of what I work with are unstable or ambiguous particle systems.” 

This Vision latches onto, feeling his thoughts growing a bit brighter. “I strive to predict behavior, often in unstable or ambiguous situations.” 

A few moments pass before realization erupts on Wanda’s face. “So quantum cognition?”

“If that is a real area.”

He’d like her, “I think so,” to be firmer, more excited, maybe?

“Well wonderful.” It is a start. With most collaborations, he has an idea of how the other person’s theories and methodologies differ from his and where they might meld. That is not currently the case. “I must confess that, other than a couple of review articles, I am not well versed on anything quantum related. Regardless, empiricism is universal and I am certain we could construct a relatively simple experiment where we examine traditional psychological theories of a particular behavior against, um…”

Wanda grins, finishing his thought. “Quantum probability. See who’s better.” He almost points out it’s not a competition, but holds back, uncertain how she might take the comment. “I think it at least sounds good enough to get us out of this room and let me get back to writing my grant.”

This seems doable and a mite exciting, though he can already sense a light panic at not understanding what he has agreed to. “I think we should maybe take some time to read up on the current literature on quantum cognition, perhaps send key articles to each other and see if that sparks any ideas. We can meet later today or tomorrow to hash out a workable study?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Three hours later, Wanda leans back in her chair, a low-grade headache knocking at her temples. The literature on quantum cognition is straightforward when it comes to the mathematical probabilities at play, what is troublesome is the often paradoxical findings and competing thoughts on human behavior. It’s not even the paradox that is frustrating, chaos is near and dear to her heart, a thrill running down her spine whenever she gets to watch the discombobulation of particles as they attempt to settle into their final reality. The moment where all realities are possible is her favorite. No, really it is the human behavior part that concerns her. The articles Vision sent along included experiment after experiment where people chose illogical actions that will harm others. Sure, occasionally there has been a study where they actually help, but it’s depressing to see confirmation of the state of human behavior. Growing up in a war-torn country and seeing the depths of human evil is part of what pushed her towards particles and molecules. That is an entropy she can enjoy, one that won’t set off bombs in apartments or shoot children in the street. She can bask in the glory of not knowing what the end result will be when no lives are at stake. How a man like Vision, who’s face just screams I’m so terribly sorry can study this is really confusing. Not as confusing as the fact that she has now read twelve explanations for the prisoner’s dilemma that all argue different things. 

Wanda shuts her laptop and shoves it in her bag. 

The building is divided into two wings, each wing then divided into six floors housing departments segregated based on closeness of discipline. It means she has to walk extra slowly from one side of the complex to the other so the scalding tea sloshing dangerously close to the edge of her mug doesn’t spill over. 

She waves stiffly at Sam as she passes his lab, a little salty at the betrayal of her friends, and continues down the hall, glancing through the windows of each room until she spots Vision. 

The psychologist is bent over his desk, face resting in his hand with the glow of the computer casting slanted shadows on his face. Wanda stands in the doorway watching him, trying to will him to glance up at her, but he only squints and moves closer to the screen. She shifts her bag behind her, switching the tea into her left hand. “Hey,” her greeting precedes the knock, both of which startle the man into a rigid stance. “You busy?”

Vision tries to reassert his calm, hands flattening the invisible wrinkles of his navy sweater. “No.”

“Awesome.” The expectation is he’ll invite her in, a researcher’s lab holier and more sacred than most people’s homes, only he doesn’t move, palms still attempting to dominate the phantom creases. What she doesn’t want to do is talk over the chasm of the lab, so she takes control, entering the room, a mixture of awe, jealousy, and fear forming at the spotless space. Despite the impressive cleanliness there is only one chair and he is currently sitting in it. “Figured we could talk, um,” the only available place is a table, her bag and cup coming to rest on the gleaming surface, “you know, make sure we’re on the same page.” 

“Of course,” Vision waves her to come in farther, his arms crossing casually, and then uncrossing, seemingly trapped in a state of superposition about how to act in the presence of another person in his space. His polite “Please,” finally collapses his uncertainty into a stiff-backed position, with one arm on his desk and the other resting on his crossed knee. 

Wanda accepts the invitation and perches on the edge of the table, legs swinging idly through the air. “So any thoughts so far?” 

“Some.” This remark implies more is coming, so she waits, fingers curling around the edge of the metal table, trying not to stare too hard as he scoops up a pile of stapled packets. When Vision stands it is fascinating to behold, his body unfolding forever, her neck twitching at the instinctual need to crane up with his progress until he is at his full height, which even from her position on the table, is still much taller than her. Somehow she hadn’t noticed this before or how it seems to amplify the clear discomfort her presence is causing him right now. The pile of papers is lovingly placed about a foot from her, allowing her to see the tell-tale structure of peer-reviewed articles. “I have been attempting to not only understand the fundamentals of your area,” the exhaustion cutting his words makes her feel a bit better, worried that only she was struggling with the cross-disciplinary readings. “While also attempting to think of behavioral analogs to the ideas.”

This is what she was hoping for, her end of the project is pretty much set regardless of behavior, the theory relatively stable minus confirming certain things with him. “I’m all ears.”

“All right, so superposition,” Vision picks up a dry erase marker and writes the word in uniformly sized and spaced teal letters. “I believe I understand the gist of what Schrödinger—”

“I like to call him the cat guy.” The attempt at breaking the tension flutters to the ground where he momentarily stares, “It was a joke...” Now he provides a polite snort, turning back to the board so she can’t see the rest of his reaction. 

Any annoyance or disappointment from her attempted levity is short lived, the uncapped teal marker in Vision’s hand waving as he speaks. “The whole thought experiment is based on superposition, that until a decision is made, all possible options exist together.”

“Correct, the cat can be both alive and dead until we pop open the box and collapse reality.” There is more to it, a laundry list of deviations from this basic component, but she doesn’t think muddying the explanation with qubit states or decoherence will be useful for their brainstorming.

The marker kisses the board again, his voice punctuated by the squeak of the silicone polymer, his ideas flowing into a visual while he speaks. “I’ve been trying to think of it with behavior and it could be like if I were to ask you this,” he underlines the question on the board, scrawled in the most perfectly legible writing she’s ever seen. “Are you happy? Until you answer the question,” a Yes and No join the phrase on the board, “you would exist as both happy and not happy.”

For a beginning example it is okay, though they will need a more nuanced approach in their own research if they ever want to publish it. “Yes, to you I would be both happy and not happy until reality exists and the superposition collapses. But, like the cat in the box, I personally would know my own reality, it’s just you, the researcher that wouldn’t.”

Her words are given careful consideration before he responds. “I hate to use this phrase, but…as a social psychologist,” a little leeway can be given in not categorizing him as a pompous, egotistical academic since he does seem genuinely distressed at sounding just like a pompous egotistical academic, “I am not certain I wholly agree with the assertion that people know their own emotions or even thoughts. For instance, we can shift the probability of your response by adding another question. Like, um,” Vision turns back to the board, hand busy writing out another yes/no question, “this.” Pointing at the question is overkill, but he does it anyway. “If we were to ask someone Are you currently hungry? and then ask if they are happy, we have now changed what their response could be because they are now potentially thinking about how ravenous they are,” which she is in fact considering, something that she wasn’t prior to the example and isn’t particularly happy to have in her mind since it also reminds her that she forgot to eat lunch today. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice the change in her own mood, still professorating towards the board, “and this happens even though the two questions are meant to be independent.”

Wanda tosses aside her angry stomach and slides from the table, joining him at the board, mulling over the marker choices he has and deciding on the red marker he keeps off by itself. “This is actually in line with quantum probability, specifically interference, where the probability of happiness changes depending on other factors. You all use classical probability—”

A very meek correction is given, “I am also trained in Bayesian probability.” 

“Either way, both, for the most part, say things are commutative and order doesn’t matter. But we know it does. In quantum probability we take into account the order of events when we calculate probability.” For a peaceful moment, she considers the questions to be like waves, watching as the two exist together, undulating around and around until a reality is set. Then she writes it down, her slanted, questionably readable letters marring his pristine board. “This example would be what we refer to as destructive interference. Assuming the person is, as you put it, ravenous, it would eliminate the chance of happiness in the second question.  On the other hand, if a person was either not hungry or comfortably full, it could be a constructive effect, where it resonates and boosts the happiness.” 

“So, context matters.”

There’s a cunning smirk on his face when he says it, a tiny, unexpected danger entering his voice that she finds a little academically enticing. “Yes, it does, that’s one of the underlying components of quantum theory. We must examine the context of the behavior we are predicting, whether it’s particles, light, atoms, or even people.”

Vision steps back and leans against the table, studying the board with a casualness and ease he hasn’t shown yet, one she imagines he only has when working. “Now we are getting somewhere. My entire area of research is on how the context of a situation can shape behavior, especially in ways that seem irrational or counterproductive.” He seems the type to want to explain and control illogical actions, no one else would button their collared shirt all the way to the top otherwise. “Consider helping.” A far cry from food, which will hopefully stop her stomach from grumbling. “If you were to be walking down the street and saw someone lying on the ground, what would you do?”

“I, um,” it seems a trick, something she tends to assume is a characteristic of those who study human behavior or ethics, so she turns to face him more directly, leaning back against the white board and mirroring his casual stance, “would check on them.”

“What if there was someone already with them?”

Ethically she knows she should check, but she is also aware that, once or twice or a handful of times in the past, she has continued walking by such a scene. “I would likely slow down and assess if more help is needed.” 

“One extra person and it changes,” the marker moves through the air as he talks, “we know that helping is influenced by myriad factors —the presence of others, the feeling of ability to help, the ease with which you can get to help them, whether you know the person, if they have similar demographics as you, if—”

This list is no doubt endless, especially with how his voice revs up with each new factor. Even if he seems nice, decently well-adjusted, and non-threatening, she doesn’t want to spend hours listening to this. “Are you saying you want to test quantum cognition with helping behaviors?”

“Not necessarily,” displeasure seeps into his voice, and then it twists into uncertainty, “well maybe,” and then slides into something close to defeat, “I really do not know, I’m just trying to think through it all.”

A fair approach to take but she also doesn’t want to drag this collaboration out longer than need be, especially since it will take valuable time away from her primary research. “Well, is there a theory you want to test?”

He shakes his head, capping the marker and placing it down on the table, careful to cage it in with his fingers so it doesn’t roll away. “For my part, it is easier to decide the behavior and then identify the most appropriate theory.”

“Okay.” The easiest thing to do is to just tell him they’ll go with helping and be done She’ll check on him in a few weeks, see what he’s concocted on his end and then she’ll step in. Except part of her wants to use this opportunity to also throw a middle finger at the administration for forcing their hands and taking them away from what they are paid to research. She just doesn’t know if this man is the best partner for something rebellious. “What do you think about all of this, the forced collaborations?”

The question surprises him, mouth dropping open and arm lifting to respond, inadvertently releasing the marker to roll onto the ground and under the table. He bends to retrieve it, still looking a bit lost when he resurfaces. “I believe that multidisciplinary research is the future of all our livelihoods,” definitely not going to be the right partner, perhaps she should have gone for the political scientist that goes to every protest in the region, “yet they are not using ideal methods to encourage such collaboration and are essentially stirring discord that will not further their wants.” 

Maybe Nat wasn’t crazy to have paired them up after all. “What if we choose something ridiculous to study?”

“How...so?”

Wanda shrugs, hands diving into the pockets of her sweatshirt. “I don’t know, something that’s kind of stupid but still theoretically applicable.” Apathy paints his face while a flicker of horror at the defacement of science dances in his icy blue stare. “You’re new, right?” Slowly he nods, arms crossing as he does so. “Each year there’s this unofficial award that we all vote on, we give it to the researcher who managed to publish the most outlandish study in a decent journal.”

His face doesn’t change but he does stand straighter, looking like he’s about to sprint out of the room, except his voice is borderline intrigued. “Like what?”

“Last year someone published a paper on how the fonts that protestors use on their signs invoke different emotions in their opponents.” 

The topic dangles in the air, Wanda a patient fisherman waiting for him to grow curious enough to nibble. Vision’s fingers tap the inside of his elbow and then his shoulders drop. “What font made them the angriest?”

“Comic sans.”

He laughs. The sound starts loud, like he wants to give it his all, but then is cut short into a contained social politeness, presenting her a brief, joyous huff. “Well,” Vision collects himself, shoving his enjoyment away and fixing the unruffled hem of his sweater, “so long as we have a theoretically informed study, I will consider any suggestions you might have.” 

Nothing screams out to her now, and even if it did, she wants to wait, look through the news to see how far she might be able to push him on this olive branch. “Let me think on it.”

He concedes. “We can speak more on it when you are ready.”

“There you are!” They both turn towards the door where Natasha stands. “I’ve been texting you for like half an hour.” 

Wanda’s hands search through her pockets while she glances to an old, black-rimmed clock on the wall. “Oh shit,” no wonder she’s so hungry and no wonder Natasha is upset. “Sorry, it’s on silent in my bag.” 

“Well, come on. Sam’s saving us a table.” 

Wednesdays are $3 nacho night and the last time she lost track of time, the bar ran out of cheese and it took a week for Sam to forgive her. She rushes to her bag, tossing it over her shoulder and chugs her tea. “Let’s go.”  

She’s a few feet down the hall when she realizes Nat isn’t next to her and also, with a mild pang of guilt, that she never officially ended her meeting with Vision. Both of these issues are being rectified by Natasha’s commanding tone, “Vision, I swear to God, if you don’t come with us, I’m never talking to you again.”

Condensation pools and drips along the surface of the electric blue drink gripped between his palms, a treat from Natasha for finally “being a human and joining them.” The other three are comfortable and amicable with each other, at least six inside jokes already lobbed into conversation and they have only been at the high top for ten minutes.  “Okay,” Sam is technically his closest colleague. They are in the same department, they attend at least one weekly meeting together, but still a stranger. Regardless, every encounter thus far, including tonight, paints him as exceedingly nice, personable, and unafraid to take control of a situation, “tell me a fun fact you learned this week that is not work related.” Vision is grateful not just for the inclusive conversation starter but also for the parameter. “Wanda, go.”

“Oh, um,” a creamy cocktail sits in front of her, the array of rings on her fingers, which he had not noticed before, despite watching her write, clinking the glass each time she takes a drink, “I learned that Papua New Guinea has over 800 spoken languages.”

Sam’s approving, “Nice,” accepts the fact and Vision looks expectedly at Natasha, assuming any rational person will move the game clockwise. “Vision, my man, what you got?”

Vision freezes, mind suddenly blank of all the things he has read in the past week, attribution theory even oozing out and falling through the cracks in the tile floor. “Well…” what he had for lunch is the closest he gets to any sort of memory, leftover broccoli soup sloshing through his mind. “Broccoli is a man-made product, created through selective breeding of a common mustard plant.”

“Seriously?” 

All three stare at him as if he has sprouted another head and, in this moment, he believes that perhaps he should have taken the risk that Natasha would never speak with him again. “Yes, same with cauliflower, kale, cabbage, Brussels sprouts…” Finally, their attention leaves him, contemplation manifesting in fingers gripping glasses and long, slow sips of alcohol. 

Sam tips his pilsner in Vision’s direction, “You’ve changed my life.” A well-meaning and empty exaggeration. “Okay Nat, can you top that?”

The easy swill she takes always proceeds a victory, something Vision would welcome, gladly forfeiting the prize of attention and questions to her. “I was reading a news story the other day about how this couple decided to invite a bunch billionaires to their wedding, hoping to get free gifts from them.”

“Did it work?” Thankfully Wanda asks the question before he feels compelled to do so. 

“Apparently, they got gifts from almost half of them.” 

This has to be a function of the secretaries for said billionaires simply sending a gift in the belief this person must somehow be connected, because Vision imagines the secretaries would know any names that would deem an actual RSVP. “Do you think,” Sam’s drink is forgotten as he stares up towards the grubby ceiling of the bar, “you could just send an invite and get a gift, even without a wedding?”

“That would be fraud.” The moral correction comes out before his social mind catches it, three sips of life-endingly strong alcohol enough to lessen his inhibitions, apparently. 

Despite the legal and moral point, no one else at the table seems bothered at the clear violation of federal and state law. “But they’re billionaires, what would one little wedding gift really do to their wallets?” Wanda seems friendly enough, intelligent, driven, and a bit uncomfortably rebellious. This all means he shouldn’t be surprised at her thought, but he’s still a bit scandalized at the complete disregard and even exhilaration in her voice when she speaks of breaking the law. 

Then Sam doubles down on the suggestion. “Exactly. Unless everyone starts doing it, what harm does it cause?” And to think this man is governed under the same ethical guidelines as Vision. What would the APA think of such reckless disregard for the law? “But seriously, would it work?”

For the second time, Vision jumps in more quickly than he should and with a far more sardonic tone than he intends, likely due to the influence of his ruffled feathers. “Still very much illegal but anything can be studied empirically.” Once the words are out, he immediately regrets it, not wanting to spur this conversation any more. It is possible (desired even) they ignore him, Sam already seeming to disregard his addition as he leans towards Natasha. Whatever Sam says is drowned out by a prickle traveling up Vision’s spine, his fight-or-flight response activating at the feeling of being watched. Slowly he turns his head towards Wanda, who levels a discerning, alcohol infused squint in his direction. “Yes?”

“Could you repeat that for me?”

“I, um,” Vision isn’t sure why she’s asking or why he feels like he should change what he said. “I stated that anything can be studied empirically.” 

As he finishes the sentence, Wanda’s lips tip into a wicked smirk. “What a ridiculous idea.”

#scarlet vision #vision #wanda maximoff #alternateuniversescarletvision #thescarletvisionnetwork #no powers AU #never thought i'd write one #but here we go #a warning: this is going to get real nerdy #mine

[jbbarnesandnoble]

Forever and Always: Part 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to date, until someone got in between you two. After a year without seeing him, he pops up in your life again, and old feelings with him?Harsh words can never taken back, but can they be forgiven?

Chapter Summary: After an unexpected run in with Bucky you find yourself in need of some relaxation. your roommate Natasha sets up a girls night with two more of your best friends. 

Warnings: it gets bit angsty in the middle -if you want to get the most feels play Happier by Ed Sheeran while you read-  

Word Count: 1,767 

A/N: I kinda suck at summarizing stuff not gonna lie to y’all. So I might stop posting a Chapter Summary. Just one more thing, I now have a Twitter and Instagram under the same user name if you want to follow me over there.

You stand there in complete shock. Watching your friends laugh in the living room. Natasha your roommate and Steve laughing at a slightly annoyed Bucky who just rolls his eyes. They only seem to notice your presence when you drop your purse and jacket at your feet. Suddenly whatever they were laughing about moments ago seems completely irrelevant.

Natasha is the first one to break the awkward silence. 

“Hey Y/N, you're home early.” the feisty redhead says all too casually. 

“I had a..” stopping you realize you don't want Bucky to know about your meeting with his mom today. You pull your hair in a loose bun, thinking over your words. 

“It was a pretty slow day and I'm really tired so I thought I would head home early. Maybe even make dinner for once.” Natasha notices your lazy lie instantly, whether the boys notice or not you don't care.

“I just came over to ask Nat for some advice, we… I have a date with Peggy tonight.” Steve says the words in his usual calm voice. He's always been a gentle and kind person, he very rarely lost his temper. Whenever he did you knew he was deeply hurt. He’s been like that for as long as you've known him. You always admired that about him. 

“Right.” you mutter. 

“Y/N.” hearing your name come from Bucky’s lips makes you suddenly tear up, he has always said your name with so much love in his voice. This time is no exception.

You don’t look at him, not wanting to risk breaking in front of him. 

You begin to feel regret well up inside of you. You broke this wonderful man's heart, yet he still says your name so kindly. He should hate you for the things you said to him.

“We should probably go, Buck.” Steve cuts in. Your eyes find their way towards Bucky's, despite how close you are to crying. You forgot how beautiful his bright grayish-blue eyes are and how easily you can get lost in them. 

After a few seconds he finally meets your eyes. You look away first. You can't stand seeing the hurt in his eyes, especially not when they used to look at you with so much love. If they still do you don't notice. 

Whether he actually still loves you or not you can't tell and if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t want to. One thing is for certain, no matter how much you still love each other. He has finally been able to start moving on with someone else. Someone who can love him more than you ever could, more than you ever can. Someone who is worthy of his love. 

“Bye doll.” Bucky says before closing the door. You give him a slight smile, not wanting to risk breaking down In front of him. 

After they leave, you don't know if you want to laugh, cry, or yell at Nat. Somehow you manage do you all three. 

Hot tears roll down your pink cheeks, you let out a soft chuckle. Before turning towards your roommate, who's just standing there staring at you with her surprisingly soft emerald eyes.

“What the heck was that?” you finally decide on yelling, putting your hands on your hips. Hoping the action will emphasize your anger. 

“Steve needed some advice.” Nat shrugs her shoulders like it's no big deal that your ex, who you haven't seen is almost a year, wasn't just standing in your living room looking as annoyingly handsome as ever. 

“and that advice had to be given in our living room? Not -I don't know- over the phone, and Why didn't you warn me? I would have gone out for dinner if I knew.” you let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your hands over your eyes. 

“Cut the crap, Y/N. You know you can't avoid him forever. You're both in the same friend group, you're bound to run into each other at some point. You might as well get used to it.” she plops onto the couch, taking a sip of her beer. 

To most, Nat comes off as rude and headstrong. But she actually cares, more than she leads people to believe. She means well and has more common sense than you. She's your best friend, without her you would've made a lot more dumb decisions in your life

“I know, I'm sorry.” you sit down next to her on the couch. 

“But my living room was the last place I expected, or wanted to have our first meeting after nearly a year.” you say, sitting down next to her.

“So, want to tell me why you're really home early? Or are you going to pretend that, ‘it was a slow day' is the truth?” she makes sure to emphasize my words, using her fingers to be extra dramatic. 

“Stressful day is all. I will tell you more after you tell me what advice Steve so desperately needed.” she just sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Fine, he was going to propose to Peggy tonight.” she has to cover her ears due to the loud squeal you just let out. 

“Gosh woman, let me finish.” you let out an inaudible sorry. 

“But I told him he should wait until London.” you find yourself super excited for one of your best friends,but also a little bit jealous. 

Peggy and Steve started dating around the same time as you and Bucky. You always talked about wanting to have your weddings close together, and having kids at the same time. 

Quickly you push your negative emotions away and focus on being happy for your friends.

Soon you begin to share with Nat the events of your day, starting with your meeting this afternoon. Although you leave out your dream from last night, wanting to keep that memory for yourself. 

She's fairly calm when you mention that Bucky might still have feelings for you, though you don't seem to notice her slight smirk, she doesn’t say anything about it. 

“I can't believe she actually had the balls to visit you like that. Especially after everything she did to you.” Natasha exclaims popping a munchkin into her mouth. 

“But I'm proud of you, ya know.” you lean your head on her shoulder. You don't ask her to explain and she knows she doesn't need to. You already know what she means. I'm proud of you for how you handled Bucky tonight.

After a long week you're happy to have a day to sleep in. You wake up slowly to the smell of bacon and coffee wafting through the air. You make your way to the kitchen.

To your surprise you find Nat with two plates made up of bacon, pancakes and a fresh pot of coffee being made. 

“You, my friend, are an angel.” you smile tiredly at your amazing roommate. 

“Only on the weekend.” Natasha laughs, setting a full plate of food in front of you. You are rarely ever able to have breakfast with your roommate except on weekends. 

It's a nice chance for you both of catch up.

After breakfast you start to clean up. You both have a rule, whoever cooks gets a free pass from clean up duty. 

“Hey” Nat says from her place at the kitchen counter. 

“I asked Peggy and Wanda if they’re up for a girls night tonight.” you acknowledge her by nodding, you're busy washing dishes. 

“Wanda's down, Peggy said she has to work it out with Stevie.” Stevie is Peggy's nickname for him. He secretly loves it when she calls him that, whenever we tease him about it he gets all flustered. 

“I'll make sure she's here. Even if I have to drag her here by her perfect neck.” that makes you laugh, something you feel like you haven't done in a very long time. 

“Good luck with that. Steve is practically glued to her side.” Nat smiles back at you, ignoring your comment 

“Was that a laugh, like a real genuine laugh?” she smiles brightly at you, poking you in the ribs. You roll your eyes at her.

Peggy and Wanda arrive around eight with enough snacks and drinks to last until next year -given that New Year's Day is only two months away- you haven't been able to hang out with your friends like this in a while. 

Wanda owns her own antique jewelry shop and tends to get busier during the Holidays. 

Peggy is constantly traveling between London and New York. Especially since her dad has been needing more and more help with his real estate company. 

As for Natasha, she is a yoga instructor. Although you would think teaching self defense or Martial arts would be more her style.

You and Peggy are sitting on the couch chatting about her date with Steve last night. Wanda and is sitting at the coffee table making jewel while Nat is sitting on the floor near the couch painting her toe nails a bright shade of red. They’re both listening intently on Peggy's story. 

“I was convinced he was going to propose. He was so nervous, we even went back to the place we had our first date.” she whinges in her perfect British Accent. 

“Steve, propose? Hun, your gonna have to be the one proposing. The man can't ask for a favor without getting nervous.” Wanda says bluntly, measuring a ring she just made. Nat bursts out laughing at her bluntness. Peggy just rolls her eyes at them. 

“Well” you start, a small smirk spreading on your face. 

“You and Steve do have a trip to London planned. Maybe he's waiting to do it there.” If looks could kill, then Nat would definitely be throwing daggers at you. Peggy on the other hand looks like she could pass out from excitement. 

“Do you really think so?” You suddenly feel bad for saying anything. 

“It’s just a guess, I don’t know what he’s thinking.” instead of making the situation better you feel like you only made it worse. 

“Have you guys seen that movie that Chris Hemsworth is in?” Wanda cuts in so I don’t run my mouth even more than I already have. She knows it’ll easily distract Peggy, seeing as she loves Chris Hemsworth -I mean, who doesn’t- You grab the T.V remote to set up the movie. 

Nat and Peggy go to the kitchen to grab more snacks from the fridge. Soon enough you’re all squeezed onto your suddenly very small couch. 

You let out a sigh, happy to be around your best friends.

Part 3

@justreadingfics @soopranatural

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky x reader fanfiction #my fanfiction #always and forever #always and forever fanfic #marvel #modern au #modern bucky #modern fanfic #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #angst #bucky barnes #steve rodgers #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #peggy carter #reader fanfiction #writing #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[littlelolay]

THORN? TORN. *FIVE

A/N: Surprise! I know I said probably on Monday or Tuesday, but I couldn't help myself. I adore you guys so much already, so here's a little gift from me. The next chapter of Thorn? Torn. I'd like to call this chapter, "The Calm before the Storm." Lol, anyways. That's the only thing I'm giving out about the next one, not gonna give out any further details. 

CHAPTER(S): ONE. TWO. THREE. THREE/2. FOUR. FIVE. SIX.

PAIRING: READER X ???? (It's still a secret, but you guys can draw up to your own conclusions ehehehehehe *insert tom laughing

PREVIOUSLY ON THORN? TORN.

I wanted to scream, I couldn’t breathe. I look at Loki one last time who now stood before me, concern etched on his face before shaking my head, more at myself– disapprovingly. This was wrong. I stalked away, my feet taking me away from the living area in search for the comforts of a room that I currently now resided but before I could get away too far, I felt his cold hand again– this time on my waist. He pulled me back, spinning me around to face him. “Y/N, breathe. Please.” he said calmly, his hands now moving to grasp my arms.

“Please– please…” I cried, shaking my head as I start to push him away. “Please, just leave me alone.”

I avoided his gaze, even as he releases me from his grip. I didn’t even bother to look at him as I ran away.

Ran towards my room.

Away from someone who just wanted to help.

They can’t help you. You can’t be helped.

You’re dangerous.

I wanted to scream. These voices pounded in my head. I wanted to tear myself apart.

I was falling apart.

And instead of asking for help, I pushed it away.

Pathetic.

CHAPTER FIVE

My eyes meet the white ceiling again as I awoke, the light from outside peeking through a small gap from the curtains– hitting me just right across the face to awaken me from my slumber.

After my encounter with Loki last night and me running away from his help into the comforts of solitary, it took awhile for sleep to consume my exhausted self– my own thoughts ganging up against me as I stared at the ceiling my gaze is currently locked on. I had even imagined burning holes through the ceiling in irritation, maybe if I continued to stare at it for a little while longer it just might happen.

At the moment, I'm in a current battle with myself whether to get out of bed and seek for comfort food but it was up against negative thoughts of meeting the Avengers. After certain events from yesterday, I was positive they would be walking eggshells around me. That's the last thing I wanted to happen, for people to hide their true self from me.

Maybe Loki can assist. I scowled at myself at the thought. No, he doesn't really want to help you.

"Y/N?" Stephen's voice rang through my ears. I fight the urge to let out a sigh, not wanting to worry him. I immediately plastered a smile on my face and push myself up to sit on the bed as I heard his footsteps approaching. "Oh, good. You're awake. Get up, let's get you some breakfast."

The thought of breakfast makes my stomach grumble but I'm still in a battle of leaving the comforts of this room to face people who clearly don't want anything to do with me. "You really sure that's a wise idea, Stephen? After everything–"

He cuts me off with a stern look as he holds his hand out for me to take, "Don't beat yourself up for that, Y/N. We've talked about this."

My gaze drops to his hand, staring at it for a second before letting out a sigh. "Fine, just let me get ready. I'm not getting out of here looking like a train wreck." I muttered underneath my breath and I gestured him to go outside. I watch him leave the room, the door shutting behind him before climbing out of bed and entering the adjoined bathroom.

I was instantly met with a reflection of myself and it was disappointing. I already felt weak, and yet– I look weak too. The bags under my eyes were darker than usual and my skin tone was paler. Was it even possible to have sunken cheeks in just a day?

I wanted to smash the vanity mirror into pieces. I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes for a minute to contain my emotions that were suddenly starting to go insane again. When things like this happened, I usually had the gym to take it all out but unfortunately– there hadn't been time, nor do I know where the gym here was located. I had assumed there was a gym; they would need to get in shape after all– for being 'superheroes'.

My muscles relaxed as I regain my composure, splashing cold water to my face a couple of times to awaken my sleepy state. Grabbing a towel that was provided for the room, I gently patted the soft material against my skin to get rid of the excess water. Placing it aside afterwards so I can pull my hair up to a high ponytail– trying my best to make it as neat as possible before conjuring up a black hair-tie with my fingers and using it to tie my hair up in place.

I give myself one last look before retreating from my room, Stephen waiting for me patiently with a worried look on his face. "You're going to look a lot older if you keep looking at me like that."

He shook his head with a laugh, the muscles around his face relaxing as he holds out his hand for me to take. I stare at it for a second before grabbing it with my own, our fingers lacing and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "Everything will be okay, Y/N. You'll see."

Somehow, I doubted it.

Just by approaching the kitchen where the rest of the Avengers were, confirmed my assumptions that everything wasn't going to be okay.

Fake smiles. They don't really care; they're just trying to save their own butts.

"Y/N, hey…" the one I've come to know as Captain America, Steve Rogers greeted as Stephen and I approached one of the counters. I felt Stephen give my hand another squeeze– a sign that I should interact back, but I refused, keeping silent. "Bucky and I over here were just discussing, and he'll love to have you join him in the training room. That is, if you're okay with that."

I look at him then at the man beside him, keeping my best poker face on as I create scenarios in my head. A part of me was screaming to say no, but I needed to release some stress out anyway. I give him a nod and looked back over at Steve, "Thank you. I suppose later will do."

"Right. So once you're ready, Bucky will be waiting for you. No rush." He said coolly, a smile of reassurance plastered on his face. There was something about the Captain that made me feel safe, his aura was calm and gentle. I watched him move away from his spot before looking back over to the man that Captain had called 'Bucky', I couldn't put my finger on it– I couldn't read him as much as I wanted to, which was a surprise.

Releasing Stephen's hand, I placed both of my hands on the cold surface of the counter before Stephen begins to pull a plate for me, food appearing instantly on the platter as he uses his mind to send the flood on the plate instead of picking stuff on his own. I meet Bucky's eyes once more as I felt his gaze never leaving on me. Clearing my throat as I felt awkward in the situation, lightly nipping on the bottom of lip as I find the right words to say in my head before speaking, "Uh, Bucky is there a way you could help me though? I'm not really sure where the training room is."

He watches me for a second before giving me a nod, "Sure, we can train before lunch. I'll be in the common room when you're ready."

All I could muster up was a nod of appreciation before lowering my gaze down to the plate Stephen had pushed towards my direction. "Thanks." I mumbled softly to Stephen, my hand conjuring up a fork. Not removing my gaze away from the food, I started picking on the piece of bacon with the fork before looking back up once I felt that Bucky's presence had retreated. I released a sigh of relief.

"See, you're doing fine." Stephen said reassuringly, snapping me from my thoughts. I scoffed; of course he would think such a thing. "Go on and eat some breakfast so you can get ready for training." I simply nodded as we ate in silence, not bothering to look around the room full of avengers who I felt steal glances towards my way. I can practically feel their stare burning through me like lasers, it's not like I'm going to get someone killed.

I didn't eat much, not really having the appetite to do so. I mean, I was hungry before entering the kitchen– but their stares were more of an off factor for me, it threw me off guard– was watching me eat so entertaining?

I left as soon as I could– eating just enough for Stephen to not pester and fuss about my health. I didn't even look back as I retreated back to my room, even though Stephen was calling me back. I just wanted to be alone, and I wanted to release all of my anger soon.

Time rolled by fast as I prepared for the day to meet with Bucky. I got myself cleaned and dressed into appropriate clothing– a simple sports bra and a pair of black leggings, with matching shoes to go along with it. I honestly didn't know what Bucky had planned for the day. It was probably something I wasn't accustomed to– training with assassins meant being lightweight and quick with every move. Agility and Stealth being the most important things that Master Jia Li and Ru Shi have taught me– but they constantly told me I was nowhere near ready, nowhere near an assassin; my emotions being my mortal enemy, as they like to put it.

I was finally able to track Bucky down at the living area where he patiently waited for me. As soon as I came into his view, he gave me a nod and gestured me to follow him and I obliged– wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

It took me at least an hour to get used to Bucky's strength, not wanting to use my abilities to have a fair fight. I wanted to, deep down claim– that I could handle his strength but I had a good feeling that he was being easy on me. I inwardly scoffed as I keep my eyes locked on Bucky who didn't even look tired compared to me. I was practically out of breath without using my abilities. He pushed me on, claiming it'd be okay for me to use them but I had refused.

And I'm kind of regretting that now– now that he has me pinned down onto the padded mats, his hand around my throat. My gaze was blurry, as I looked up at him, not really bothering to listen to what he was saying. I had enough of this.

Using all of the energy that I had left, my hand gripped onto his wrist and spun it around causing him to yell in pain. At this moment, my vision was a blur as I pushed myself up– quickly using the advantage to roll us over, using my knee to pin his metal arm down the padded mats and my right foot pressing his now injured hand down causing him to yell out in pain once more, my hand wrapping around his neck.

We stayed in that position for quite sometime, my panting going at an abnormal rate before my eyes widened at the sight of Bucky underneath me. His face was scrunched up in pain and I moved myself away, pushing myself off of him.

I did that.

And I had no recollection as to how I did it.

Everything was a blur.

What the fuck just happened?

"I…" I muttered underneath my breath as I stare down at Bucky who was slowly pushing himself to sit. I shook my head and spun around heading towards the door. It was all too quick, but I don't know how Bucky could have pulled me back by the arm.

"Don't, it's okay." He whispered and I fought the urge to spin around and look at him. It wasn't my intention to hurt him. "You didn't hurt me, Y/N. It's okay, I'm fine. Hey– hey, Y/N. Look at me."

He demanded and I slowly turned, my face scrunched up in worry. "You're just saying that–I…"

"I said, don't." He repeated firmly and all I could muster up was a nod. "I get it, your emotions are all over the place but don't keep it inside. Let it out."

"The moment I let it out, you got hurt! Don't lie to me, I could have broken your wrist!"

"But you didn't!" he barked, causing me to jump a little on the spot, both of his hands now gripping onto my arms, his metal hand pressing against my skin caused me to shiver from the coldness. Just like Loki's. I shook the thought of Loki out of my head as I feel his grip on my arms tighten– his metal hand relaxed, he didn't want to hurt or scare me. "It'll heal, it's fine. You need to understand the more that you keep it all bottled up and you get into situations where you let your emotions take over– that's it! You won't be able to realize what you're doing anymore, and I get that you're scared of that but you need to accept that they are a part of you. Stop being so scared!"

As the day passed by quickly, Bucky and I were attached to the hip. After he had yelled at me, I supposed something snapped and we were yelling back and forth. Stephen worried, but I said nothing. I had wanted to stay by Bucky as he showed me around the tower and eventually I had decided to be left alone once we've reached the library that was provided, it wasn't huge like the one in the manor but it would have to do. Giving Bucky one last look, memories of what had happened in the training room start flooding my mind.

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't need your fucking help!" I screamed at him as I pulled away from his grasp. "Have you ever thought that just maybe, just fucking maybe– that I don't need anyone telling me to do!"

He scoffed. "Continue telling yourself that, doll but you and I both know that I'm right. You hide away in that little room of yours because you're afraid– afraid of the judgment that might come your way but news flash, princess– that isn't going to help you one bit so stop fighting back and listen!"

"Well, I'm fucking tired of listening! I feel like shit and everything is just too much!" I cried out, stepping forward– and suddenly my fists were punching Bucky's chest as if he was a punching bag back at manor. "I just want everything to stop! I want the people in my head to fucking stop! I want to be left alone! So why can't you do that, huh? Why can't you fucking leave me alone! Why do you have to act all mighty and decide to help me, it's no fucking use! No one can help me!"

"If you think for a second I'm going to feel sorry for that sob story of yours, doll. Think again." He snapped, grasping onto my hands with his own. "I'm not going anywhere, whether you like it or not."

"Y/N? You alright, doll?" he asked snapping me from my thoughts, worry evident in his eyes. The corners of my mouth tug up to a small smile as I give him a nod. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then. Training room, usual time."

I watched his retreating figure, my heart beating faster than usual at the thought of training with Bucky tomorrow. He was– he was a person I could trust now, somehow. He was treating me just like what I yearned for– like a person who needed to be put in her place, someone who needed to be slapped of reality without thinking if it's going to affect me because I was an adult who needs to be capable of doing things her own– unlike Stephen, who treated me like a child. Yes, I felt comfortable around Bucky. 

A sigh escaped my lips before I spun around to face the scene of books before me, inhaling the scent of books that surrounded the atmosphere. The library at the manor used to be what could calm me down; reading books would remove the negative voices in my head as I go on certain adventures.

"You seem rather close to the winter soldier."

My attention snapped to the intruder, my position shifting to an alarming stance– ready for an attack, just as like what Bucky taught me earlier.

"Always the feisty one." My intruder chuckled as he began approaching me, his brow arching in curiosity, "What? No dagger this time? I'm disappointed. I quite like your choice of weaponry."

"Loki…" I whispered as my muscles began to relax, shifting my feet to stand straight; my gaze never leaving his figure, "What're you doing here?"

"Well, darling…" he drawled, standing in front of me now, "This is where most of my time is consumed."

He was kidding right? I searched his eyes, his features; even his body language to try and detect an indication that he was telling a lie but to no avail. "You read?"

"Is that such a surprise?" he quirked an eyebrow as he took another step forward. Too– close. "I'm offended. Now, tell me– darling, why is it that you decide to spend time with the soldier but when it came to me you run away? Do I frighten you?" he asked, his voice soft– almost like a whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. Yup, he was very close now. "You seem nervous now, Y/N. Has a feline gotten your tongue? Do I make you nervous?"

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shake my head before lifting my hands up between the little space we had between us. I press my palms flat against his chest and pushed him away ever so slightly as I spoke, "No, Loki. I'm fine."

A smile almost tugs upon his lips at my actions but before I could push him away further, he holds onto my hands with his– and my heart skips. "Please, don't run away from me this time. Let me help you."

"I–I…" I stuttered from his actions, my hands feeling slightly cold from his touch. I tried my best to avoid his gaze but I was completely failing at doing so. One of his hands moves away and I swear– I had wanted to grab onto it once more like a baby losing his favorite toy, but his next move shocks me even more. I feel his fingers brush along my jawline and he tilts my head back by my chin with his thumb and index finger. My legs felt like jelly. I wanted to melt as those eyes bore into my own. My lips parted– my mind searching for something to say but instead I decide against it, not trusting myself so I gave him a nod.

His smile blew me away and before I could comprehend what was happening next, his fingers were intertwined with mine as he dragged me to one of the couches that were situated in front of a modern fireplace.

And somehow, instead of running away…

I felt–

Peace.

A/N: LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK, KISSES. I'm going to start apologizing now because if you're reading this and you've finally jumped into my ship, you are about to go on a rollercoaster ride. I'm someone who likes to write conflicts, sometimes– even have love triangles, and obviously from where this is headed, our little reader is already starting to develop feelings for not just one man. Buuuuut, I'm not saying anything further ehehehehehe. Okay, signing off. Again, let me know what you guys think! If you have any suggestions on what you want to see in this series, don't be afraid to do so! 

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

TTTAGGED: @alessia--winchester @totobyafricaa @wipplog

#thorn?torn #avenger #avenger x reader #avenger imagine #avenger imagines #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers iw #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange imagines #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange imagines #doctor strange imagine #loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson imagines #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson imagine #loki odinson imagines

[avengershavethetardis]

Jealousy?

Okay, I took the challenge from the beautiful @sanjariti and I wanted to make it really nice so I had like a million rough drafts and I hated them all so here is the one I hated the least. It’s probably like a really long and cringey little piece of writing but I did it and I hope it isn’t too bad. I took the prompt “Don’t be mad because I’m doing me better than you’re doing you with Bucky Barnes and reader. ( @sanjariti again I’m so sorry) Also the word count came out to 4,099 so it’s a long cringe fest.  

For seventy years, Bucky had been trapped in a cage of loneliness and despair. His head, thoughts, and motivation had all been trapped under the hand that was HYDRA. Life had been a tragedy for as long as he could remember. He thought that he was going to be stuck in this never ending spiral of despair and loneliness. But there was a small piece of the old Bucky that was constantly fighting to hold onto a small memory of hope that showed itself through kind blue eyes. Those deep ocean blues that let him know everything would work itself out. He was finally able to see the owner of those eyes when he ran into the man on the bridge.

It had been like any other mission but it ended up being so much more. Bucky thanked God every day for giving him the chance to start over again with his childhood best friend and those blue eyes. Of course, it took a while for him to get used to life as Bucky Barnes and not the Winter Soldier. He always had Steve there though.

He lived with Steve first in a small apartment in his home city of Brooklyn (even if rent was a little on the high side). In the beginning, Steve had worked day and night trying to get Bucky back to the smooth and confident man he once was but he couldn’t. Bucky felt like he had failed his savior by not being able to function like the young man Steve remembered. He thought a lot about his own personal sufferings and the “burden” he was for not being the old Bucky. Sam was the first to notice the negative thoughts that Bucky was having and quickly stepped in even if Bucky found him to be an “annoying birdbrain” who always called dibs on shotgun.

It might have been a long, very difficult and sometimes violent process to get Bucky to be stable and finally understand that he was Steve’s best friend till the end of the line, but they got there.

When rent got a little too pricey for even America’s living and breathing landmark (Tony’s words), Stark had offered the Avengers facility to the two best friends. Bucky was nervous about meeting the rest of the team seeing as they were the closest thing to a family Steve had after he “died”. At first, Bucky was closed off and unengaging. Steve had such amazing friends who made his life easier. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore but he didn’t feel worthy enough to hang with the likes of Tony Stark or Thor. So he did what he thought he had to do for Steve. However once Pepper found out that he didn’t join in family dinners or participate in weekly movie nights, she gave him a passionate and very terrifying rant about how he’s a part of the family and better start acting like it.

Bucky showed up to every dinner and movie night after that.

The team warmed up to him quickly and vice versa. He quickly became the center of attention and became a crucial asset to the team on and off the field. Working for HYDRA ruined a good portion of his life but he did learn a lot under their control. Everyone knew he was a skilled fighter but his level of leadership and ability to come up with infiltration plans was a level of genius that not even Steve could parallel.

He traded fighting techniques with Natasha. He made fun of Steve with Sam. He loved the same kind of movies as Clint. He learned to cook with Wanda. He learned about modern life from Vision. And he learned to deal with trauma from Tony.

Bucky became quickly everybody’s favorite. He was gaining popularity and steadily keeping it. To say he enjoyed it was an understatement but Bucky’s time in the limelight was quickly cut short with the arrival of Y/N. _________________________

“I’m tired of eating pizza every night. I just want something new and better than a slice of Leone’s,”  Tony groaned. The Avengers were sitting in the dining room arguing over what to eat: homemade, takeout, fast food, Indian, Chinese, etc.

“I don’t see why we have to change things up. I love Leone’s,” Steve countered.

“Listen, Old Man, you used to boil everything you ate on a raggedy stove so you have no say in what quality food is,” Tony said. “I actually agree with Steve here, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it,” interrupted Clint.

“You can’t be serious Legolas, you’re siding with Flag Boy here!? Come on who else is joining him?” Tony asked. Clint’s and Wanda’s hand went into the air. While Vision raised his too wanting to be on the same side as Wanda.

“Okay now, who’s on my side AKA the winning side?”

Bucky’s, Natasha’s and Sam’s hands went up meaning there was a tie. A huge argument regarding food choices broke out dividing the team in half. The sounds of complaints and whining filled the room making it look like a classroom and not the home of the world’s most powerful individuals. Not wanting to have the fight turn into an all out Civil War, Bucky was about to offer to cook something for all of them when the loud ding of the elevator broke the commotion.

No one was expecting to be bothered with work on their day off so the emergence of a serious looking Fury at the hallway was a surprising one. However, Fury did not walk in alone.

Next to Fury stood one of the most beautiful dames Bucky ever had the pleasure of beholding. She was of about average height. She had glowing bronze skin with bold and wild curly black locks. They framed a face with warm brown eyes, the kind you can stare into forever without realizing you’ve been drowning in them the whole time. Her lips were thick and plump covered in red lipstick.

Her looks weren’t the main thing that drew Bucky to her though. It was the type of attitude she released. She walked with sturdy strides that screamed confidence. On her lips, she wore a small smirk that suggested she knew something you didn’t. Her aura was both intimidating but welcoming at the same time. She looked like she could encase you in the warmest hug of your life but snap you in half if you got on her bad side. And Bucky loved it.

Once in front of the kitchen island Fury took it upon himself to explain the situation to the Avengers who stood there staring at their new guest with looks ranging from confusion to excitement.

“It’s nice to see that the team I assembled behaves like grown adults who know how to resolve conflicts and compromise,” Fury said with his arms crossed, “But solving your dinner problems is the least of my concern at the moment. Avengers, I want you to meet your newest member, would you care to introduce yourself, ma’am?”

Bucky was half expecting her stutter over her words or sound kind of nervous after all they were the Avengers and it’s not every day you meet master assassins and enhanced human beings. He remembered being in a position similar to her own a couple months ago. He was introducing himself to Steve’s friends and messed up on his own name. To this day Sam still calls him Borky. However, to his surprise, she didn’t do anything like what he did.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N and I’m looking forward to working with all of you,” she said with a sweet and self-assured tone. The moment those words escaped her mouth Bucky couldn’t help but hear her subtle accent. He didn’t find it to be a bad thing, no on the contrary he wished that she would open her mouth again and speak his own name with that same accent.  At the same time, Bucky was a little jealous that she was able to speak in a poised voice when in the same situation that introduced him to a new level of embarrassment.

“She will be moving into the Avengers facility and you guys will act as hospitable hosts, teaching her how things function around here. Barnes and Rogers, you too will be in charge of setting up a training schedule for her and helping her prepare for your next mission in two weeks. I hope you all solve your dinner dilemma.” Fury nodded and ended his last sentence with a tone of voice that made it clear there would be no taking of questions. He walked out leaving the Avengers with a strange woman in their presence.

“Well this isn’t awkward at all,” Y/N said with a laugh. After a few more moments of an uncomfortable silence, Y/N responded with, “Well don’t all rush to introduce yourselves.”

“Oh right! Sorry about that, we just weren’t expecting a visitor much less a new member all of a sudden. I’m Sam.” said the handsome man with warm brown eyes. “This is Steve, Tony, Wanda, Natasha, Clint, Vision, and Bucky.” he continued gesturing to the name’s respectful owners.

“It’s so amazing to be here with all of you. I mean I never in my life thought that I’d reach the same status as the likes of Captain America or Iron Man. So this pretty surreal for me.” she said gazing around at all of them with kind eyes. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything too important before I got here. I heard you guys arguing about something like Pizza or Lord of the Rings before I walked in.”

“Oh yeah, we were just deciding on what we were going to eat for dinner. It kind of spiraled out of control. Don’t worry about it though. Actually, why don’t you pick today’s dinner seeing as it’s your first team dinner,” suggested Steve.

“How about I do you one better and cook a nice traditional home made meal for all of you,” replied Y/N.

“Ummm, you know Y/N I was going to offer to cook something up-“ Bucky started.

“Oh no that’s fine I can do it and I don’t mean to brag or insult your skills but I’ve been told I’m one of the best cooks out there.” Y/N said with a smile that Bucky couldn’t help but adore.

About an hour after Y/N entered the kitchen, there seemed to be delicious smells of food and spices coming from the kitchen. While Y/N was working her magic in the kitchen, the rest of the Avengers waited eagerly to taste what Y/N was cooking.

“A comer!” shouted Y/N from the dining room.

“Jesus that smells amazing Y/N. What did you make?” said Tony while entering.

“Muchas gracias, they’re called sopes. My mom used to make them for me all the time when I was younger.”

The Avengers quickly washed their hands, sat down and dug their hands into the warm delectable little tortillas. All except for Bucky who couldn’t help but feel a tiny ounce of annoyance. Cooking for the team was always kind of his thing. After missions, he would cook up some nice warm soup or some tasty spaghetti. He loved the little compliments he would get over his dishes. To hear them directed at someone else irked him a bit but nevertheless, he enjoyed the food like the others (maybe, even more, knowing who prepared the meal.)

Tony, deciding to take initiative of the conversation, asked their newest member some questions to get to know her a bit better. They found out that she was born in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. She lived there until it got too dangerous for her family because of the crime and drug wars. She and her family then immigrated to California when she was 12 years old. She was fluent in Spanish, was proud of her culture and where she came from which Bucky couldn’t help but be attracted to. Women in the 40s all kind of threw themselves at him. And these women were all amazing and kind people but they lacked this confidence and attitude that he saw in Y/N. __________________________

And it seemed that every other member of the team recognized that confidence that she had and the unapologetic attitude she showcased and they loved it too. She became everyone’s favorite member of the team.

She would joke around with Tony and Sam. She traded traditional recipes with Wanda. Bonded with Natasha over ways of playing their “weak female” appearance to their advantage. She taught Vision how to act more like a person and how to be mindful of the emotions of others. She had heated debates with Clint over everything but they were all out of love and mutual respect.

And her and Steve could not have gotten along any better. They both had what they called unparalleled bravery but Bucky called it stupidity and irresponsibility. They traded stories of playground scuffles, acts of courage, traumatic confrontations and just plain stupid fist fights. They were like two peas in a pod and Bucky hated it.

He hated the fact this beautiful lady could just walk in all smooth like. She could easily win over the hearts and trust of the Avengers, she could become the new center of attention, and steal precious moments away from his best friend.  

But what Bucky hated most was that he couldn’t hate her. Despite her stealing every ounce of praise away from him, he couldn’t help but also grow a soft spot for her. She was kind and confident and beautiful and strong. He hated that he couldn’t hate her and it seemed everyone noticed his sour change in mood including a certain super soldier.

Bucky sat at the dining room table waiting for Steve and Y/N to get up so they could start training again. When Steve came down he noticed the childlike pout on his face.

“ You have that look on your face again.”

Bucky looked up, “I don’t have any look on my face, punk.”

“Oh come on, what’s on your mind? You’ve been acting like this for weeks now.”

“It’s nothing don’t worry about it. Besides is her royal highness ready yet?”

“Her royal highness? Oh, I get what this is about now!” Steve yelled excitedly. “You’re jealous of Y/N and all the attention she’s getting, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie. Besides, you have nothing to be jealous about. We just want to make her feel welcome, loosen up.”

“You loosen up Steve, I’m tired of her strutting around with her soft hair and pretty smile on her lips,” Bucky let slip but instantly regretted it.

“Soft hair? Pretty smile? Oh, this isn’t jealousy. Is it love that I detect?” Steve said bursting out into laughter.

“Yes! I mean no! Shut up punk!” Bucky let out flustered.

Steve’s chuckles were quickly tuned out by Bucky because at that moment, Y/N walked into the room from out of the hallway. And she had a puzzled look on her face wondering what kept her friend in giggles.

“Did I miss out on a funny joke or something?” She questioned with a small smile.

“No, it was nothing. Steve’s being stupid. Let’s just go train.” He said curtly while pushing past Y/N.

Now Bucky’s rude and quiet behavior did not go unnoticed by Y/N. She very easily figured out that he had something against her. It didn’t take her too long to realize that he was most likely jealous of the new found attention that focused solely on her. But as much she tried not letting it get to her it still did. Usually, she would brush it off and think nothing of it but she was kind of angry that Bucky didn’t like her after all she had not intentionally done anything wrong. This small part of her wanted him to like her but she wasn’t exactly sure why that part of her kept growing in size each day. __________________________

Training used to be one of Bucky’s favorite things to do but ever since Y/N made an appearance he hated it. She was extremely skilled in the art or combat and weaponry. Not to mention the added bonus of her ability to control metal. Bucky found this to be the worst. Typically Bucky could beat anyone in hand to hand combat but now the brown eyed beauty could take him down (emotionally and physically) easily with the smallest of movements. Today, Bucky was feeling more annoyed than usual.

They had all been training for about two hours. Steve and Y/N had been caring nice and light conversations about whatever popped into their head. Y/N occasionally tried to bring Bucky into the conversation as a way to get on his good side but he just brushed her off with a grunt, silence or if he was particularly sour a scoff.

It was after the 3rd scoff and 12th attempt to make conversation did Y/N finally crack under pressure.

“What’s your problem?!” She yelled out.

Bucky just stared playing confused.  

“No seriously what is your problem? You always start to look away or leave a room the moment I step into a room. I try to make polite conversation and get you involved with your new team member but you just brush me off and pretend that I’m not here. You treat me like the scum on your shoe and you know what? If all of this is because you feel jealous that your team is getting along with a new member then you are an absolute idiot who needs to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around him. God! Don’t be mad because I’m doing me better than you’re doing you.”

With that loud and bold rant, Y/N quickly walked out of the room and slammed the door with so much force and anger that she broke the metal door knob and tore the door off of its hinges.

Bucky was not expecting her to go off on him so much and verbally call him out like that. He didn’t for once think about how she felt with him ignoring her and not giving her the attention she deserves. And to think he wanted to have a chance with her.

“I think I made a huge mistake.”

______________________

The rest of Bucky’ day was spent looking for the opportunity to explain himself to Y/N and try to confess his true feelings. However, he never got that opportunity because Y/N had locked herself in her room for the whole day and didn’t want to come out. Bucky decided to give her that day to cool off and hoped that the next day she would be a bit more willing to hear him out. However, he woke up the next morning to find out that she was gone and had left for a mission.

Steve had informed Bucky that it was a small low-risk mission with Sam and that they’d likely be back during the evening. They were supposed to check in at around 12 pm to let everyone know the mission was going accordingly but when they didn’t receive that call, everyone began to worry.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Sam forgets to call in and do things all the time,” Steve assured the team.

“Sam might do that but we’re also talking about Y/N. She would ever be even a minute late to make the phone call.” Countered Natasha.

The rest of the team stayed silent and the tension grew thick. Everyone was nervous to figure out what happened to two of their favorite team members. And poor Bucky was practically pacing and leaving holes the carpet. His mind was racing with terrible thoughts. What if Y/N died and she never forgave him? What if she came back and refused to ever see him again? Or what if she just didn’t care anymore?

His thoughts were put to rest when the team l received messages that said Sam and Y/N had made it back and were in the hospital wing. The team quickly rushed over to find out the status of their family.

When they got there, they saw that Sam was okay and had suffered minor wounds which was amazing news. The bad news was that he only suffered so little because Y/N had taken so many hits for him and wants to protect him as much as she could. However, this meant Y/N’s status was more severe than Sam’s and she would likely have to stay in the hospital for a couple weeks before she was okay.

The team could finally relax knowing that they had not lost any close friends that night.Though Bucky still wanted to see, Y/N for himself. So he did the most rational thing he could think of in that moment, break into Y/N’s hospital room and be by her side when she woke up.

Bucky sat on the chair looking down at the woman he hurt for such petty reasons. He didn’t realize how much of a real douche he was being and now he could only hope that he would be forgiven.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. I was a real idiot. I don’t know how I was stupid enough to be jealous of the team giving you attention.I mean you deserve every ounce of that praise and care. I wish I could go back and be just as welcoming because if anyone on this team is worthy of praise it’s you. God, I wish you won’t just forgive me but let me make it up to you somehow. I didn’t want to admit it but there’s something about you that just makes me want to be near you all time. I want to hear your beautiful accent fill my ears. I want to see your curly hair bounce around when you giggle at something funny. I want to hear you scold the team in Spanish. I want to hear your loud music blasting from your room next door. And I just want to be near you every time you’ll let me.”

After a few moments Bucky laid his head in his hands and with a sigh whispered, “God, I’m so pathetic.”  

“No, you’re not.”

With a startled look up Bucky saw Y/N’s big brown eyes look back at him with so much sincerity. He suddenly turned red when he realized that she could have heard his pathetic excuse of an apology and creepy rant about his affection for her.

“Oh Jesus, I’m sorry. I broke into your hospital room because I’m an idiot and wanted to see if you were fine. I’ll head out now.” he rambled quickly trying to apologize for his invasion of her privacy.

“That was beautiful.” she interrupted.

“Wh-what?”

“Your little speech or should I call it a confession?” she teased with a little smile.

“Oh… you heard all of that?”

“Yeah. The big bad Winter Soldier was jealous and had a little crush on me didn’t he?” she said with a cocky smile.

“I- uh,”

“Don’t be embarrassed  I think it’s kind of cute. Oh, of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive you all at once with that lame apology because frankly, I deserve better, but I’ll give you a chance to make it up to me. And who knows I just might return those feelings back one day, I mean you are kind of handsome when you aren’t acting like an idiota.”  she said with a big smile on her face.

“I’ll make it up to you I promise. How about dinner? Next Saturday at 6?” Bucky asked hopefully.

“No, no, no, no, no. You aren’t getting by with just dinner. You owe me a whole day of fun. So next Friday bring your A-game and get your good apology ready because I don’t want a rocky start to our relationship.”

“Relationship?” Bucky asked with his mouth open.

“If you play your cards right Barnes.” she said with a smirk on the corner of her mouth.

Bucky grew a big smile on his face and knew that next Friday was going to be the day he made it up to Y/N and the day a lifetime of laughter and happiness would begin. And Bucky could not contain his excitement.

#carosgameofprompts #my lame attempt #at writing