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lifeontop · 2 years

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At peace?

Hey everyone! This is a little different from what I usually post and hasn’t been proof-read or edited but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

TW: none? lmk if I need to add anything pls

You had been feeling off lately. Like the world had suddenly turned gray and you just didn’t know how to turn the colors back on. It was as if suddenly your world had stopped spinning and slowed down, leaving you to live your days in eternal monotony. It was as if everything and everyone around you had lost its meaning. The real world seemed so far away, blocked by a veil of sadness that you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. And covered by that veil, you were slowly unraveling. Sleepless nights had turned your eyes into sunken holes. The lack of water and food had your ribs sticking out of your skin more than usual. Your mind had slowly descended into a chaotic state that impeded you from fulfilling even the simplest tasks.

And yet, the one question you couldn’t find an answer to was why. Why were you feeling like this? Had the world been turning grey at the corner of your eyes for a while, and you just hadn’t noticed? Or had it taken over suddenly? What had triggered it? You couldn’t remember. And somehow, you didn’t care. Day after day, you had gotten used to it. The cold feeling was so familiar. Like going back to a place you had known all your life. It lulled you right into a state of numbness that felt as natural to you as the oxygen filling your lungs.

As the days passed, the mission reports you were supposed to be filing remained untouched on your desk. Every day, you would sit down, turn on your laptop, log into the system and stare at the screen. The hours ticked by, your fingertips flying over the keyboard keys, your eyes growing tired and your head hanging low. And yet, the pile of reports never shrunk. Reading had always been like a second nature to you, it usually required no effort. Now, your eyes dragged themselves along the lines, your brain incapable of comprehending the letters and words that it was seeing, as if they were from an ancient language that possessed characters you had never seen before.

You hadn’t talked to anybody about it. It’s not that you didn’t want to. You had tried, but all you ever managed to say was that you were tired from work. It was a valid excuse. Afterall, you had been working on the dissolution of the original Avengers team for months. The decision to retire had been made on a random evening when Steve had mentioned retiring and starting a new career. And somehow, member after member, everyone had agreed, and they had concluded that they would all retire all together. Everyone except you and the new generation that is. While the team was leaving for good, you had decided to stick around for a little longer, you weren’t quite done with the Avengers yet.

It had taken a lot of assessing, planning and trials to get to where you were now. The plan was made, most of the team had already moved out of the compound and was settling into their new routines. While some had decided to settle close to the city, others had chosen to go back to their homes across the country. You had chosen the latter. At least for the duration of your break and mostly because your family needed you.

Today, you were going back to the compound. The trip had been planned for quite some time as you still had to pack up some things and sort out some paperwork there.

The wind was ruffling your hair, the speedometer showing that you had by far surpassed the speed limit, but you were too deep in thought to notice. The closer you got to the compound, the heavier your bones seemed to become. As you parked your bike in front of the building and took off your helmet, exposing your disheveled hair, your eyes wandered to the familiar structure. It still looked the same. The walls were still painted in the same graphite color. The mat in front of the door still looked run-down from all the feet that had stepped on it. The bulletproof windows reflected the path that you had just driven on. Despite its flaws, some part of you felt at home.

You were making your way towards the door, ready to get your hand scanned and input your secret pin when Jarvis’ familiar robotic voice rung through the air. “Welcome back Y/N, is there anything I can do for you?” A small smile grazed your lips at the AI’s question. How many times had you heard that same exact question before when coming back from a mission? You had missed it. “Hi Jarvis, is anyone here today?” you asked, while opening the doors. “No, nobody is here. The house has been empty for quite some time, I fear. Anything else I can do for you?” “No, thank you, Jarvis.”

Without waiting for the customary “You are welcome, Y/N”, you directed your steps to the command center. It looked unused. The silence felt too loud. Like it wasn’t supposed to be there, a foreign sound that had replaced the familiar cacophony of your teammates joking and scheming with each other. There were no overlapping conversations and commands being screamed across the room. No mission was displayed on the big screens that were built into the walls. Even the hologram table in the middle of the room was turned off.

Without even thinking, your hands had turned on the command system. The room came alive with a slow rumble, lights flickering all around as the screens turned on. If you concentrated hard enough, you could fool yourself into thinking this was just another morning. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the first one to show up. After all, your friends loved to stay up until the early morning hours and rarely showed themselves before midday. But the reality was that the compound was empty. You were surrounded by a different silence, one that didn’t match the usual wiring sound of Starks robots cleaning the building and the sound of the stairs creaking as people snuck into the kitchen for an early morning snack.

While your brain was running itself crazy analyzing the emptiness of the compound, a thought suddenly materialized in your mind. This was how it was going to be from now. The team had moved out. You were one of the few left. There would be no more whispering and laughing in the command center. No more grumpy “good mornings” and coffee cups collecting on the table. The sharp whistle of the kettle would be replaced by silence. There would be no more silent conversations with Steve while the others bickered. Natasha wouldn’t appear out of thin air anymore, commanding everyone’s attention. And Thor wouldn’t be there every day to make sarcastic comments and make everyone laugh.

And just like that your excitement about being “home” disappeared and your mood plummeted. This was all there would be from now on. The silence and you. The both of you, alone in the huge compound. As the realization settled in, your back slid against the wall, leaving you to settle on the cold floor. Your mind started replaying all the memories you had made with the team in that very building. They were much more than just your colleagues; they were your friends. You had lived your best moments and survived the worst with them. You had survived the Sokovia Accords that had threatened to split the team forever. You had fought through the endless missions that required the Avenger’s help, again and again. And been there for each other when one of you inevitably broke down. But you had also taken day trips together. You had spent entire nights laughing with them and teasing each other relentlessly. You had built a life together. And now it was gone.

The vibration of your phone suddenly ripped you from your daydreams. Wanda.

“Hey there, is there anything I can do to help you with those reports? I know it’s a lot, tell me if I can help you in any way.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. You had already told her countless times that you were fine on your own, that you would get the job done and that you wanted her to rest and enjoy her newfound free time. But she was stubborn like that. Somehow, it warmed your heart and made the darkness a little lighter.

Shaking your head, you dragged your limbs off the floor and towards the kitchen. Here too, the silence greeted you like a stab right through the heart. This was the spot where the team had spent most time together. It was also the best spot to exchange gossip and hear about the team’s adventures. After all, is there anything better than sharing food and news with the people you love? You could see Sam shaking his head “no” in answer and an unbidden smile appeared on your lips. This was also the very same spot in which your friends had told you that you couldn’t possibly do everything for everyone. And that you needed to start putting yourself first. Wise words. It had been a very much needed wake-up call.

Settling on a chair, you realized just how much you had changed since you had first entered these walls. Gone was the scared person who was so ashamed of herself that they were afraid to speak or reveal anything even remotely private. In their place stood a (more or less) confident person who had learned to open up. Or at least was trying their best to do so. Frowning, you tried to place yourself into your old self and remember your first day at the compound. You found that you couldn’t. That person didn’t seem like you anymore. This place really had changed you. And it wasn’t only the things you had experienced or the work you had put in that had made you into who you were today. You had learned something from each of your team members. Thor had taught you to stand up for yourself and be unapologetic about you wanted. Wanda had shown you that loving yourself was not a burden, in fact, it was a necessity and nothing to be ashamed of. Natasha, as unlikely as it seemed, taught you to open up. Or well, forced you and then taught you. Sam had reminded you that fighting for what you want is always a good idea, that you were not obligated to let go of your dreams just because someone deemed them unrealistic. And Steve? He had taught you that being quiet and reserved didn’t mean that you couldn’t have a place in the group. And that being part of the group did not mean that you couldn’t allow yourself time to breathe away from it.

Most of all, they had taught you that you could open up, that you could let yourself break and that they would be there for you. In a world that had taught you to hide yourself behind a stone mask and never let anyone see your weakness, they had reminded you of your softer nature. They had reminded you of how to feel things instead of locking them away. For the first time in years, you had felt human. And it had hurt. But it had also felt incredibly empowering. Like finding a piece of yourself you had been missing all along but hadn’t known how to find. They had reminded you of what love, real love, not conditional one, really felt like. The more you let yourself think, the more the darkness seemed to weigh on you. When had you stopped talking to them? When had you stopped randomly checking in? You knew the answer. But knowledge and acceptance were two very different things. You let your head drop into your hands.

“You know we are always here for you”. It’s Thor’s voice, ringing in your head. “I always have time for you”. Steve. “When you feel like talking, I’m here” Wanda. “Hey, you’ve been very quiet lately, are you okay?” Natasha. “Do you want to talk about what’s going on?” Sam. They had been there all along. You had never really been alone. You had just refused to acknowledge it and had reverted to your old ways of shutting everyone out. And the why was easy. You were scared. Scared of how lonely you felt when they weren’t around. How much you depended on them. Scared that one day those messages would turn into simple “happy new year’s” messages that you never responded to. Abandonment issues. That was your damn problem. The thought of not seeing them every day, not having them with you at the compound scared you shitless and, in your mind, it was better to detach yourself from them before they could abandon you and leave you broken. It wouldn’t be the first time someone did that. Somewhere deep down, you knew it was an irrational fear. They were not like that. And yet, you were still isolating yourself.

Determined, you spoke up: “Jarvis, where is Natasha? Shouldn’t she be in the city?” The answer came quick: “Ms. Romanoff is currently at work. Would you like me to call her for you?” “No, thanks Jarvis. I think I’ll drop by myself”. And with that, you were off. You had other obligations later in the afternoon but seeing Nat was worth a detour.

Once again speeding down the highway towards the city, you wondered whether it really was a good idea to just show up at Nat’s workplace. It would most likely bother her. Or was that only in your head? Well, you were already on the way, no turning back now. You quickly dropped by the grocery shop to get her a fresh drink and dragged your feet to the coffee shop. Anxiety was gripping your bones, leaving cold sweat to drip down your back. Nervously, you stood in line to get a coffee. Somehow, you realized, your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest, despite the anxiety coursing through your veins, you felt safe.

Natasha hadn’t seen you yet. She looked a little tired and you were happy you had at least thought of getting her a little reinforcement. Was it even appropriate to just drop by while she was working? You didn’t have time to think about it because she spotted you in that exact second. Nat’s face changed from surprise to confusion and to some kind of happy in a matter of seconds. Her face was hidden behind a mask but if the little twinkle in her eyes was any indication, coming to see her had been the right thing to do. One shy wave, little glances and it was already your turn to order. “Hey sunshine, thought I’d surprise you” you croaked out.15 minutes later you were sitting in the corner of the shop, an iced coffee in front of you. You had pulled out your laptop with the intention to get some work done but to be completely honest, you had barely managed to turn it on before your attention had shifted. Your eyes were wandering across the shop, taking in the constant flow of customers, and finally settling on your friend. Automatically, you recalled her reaction and a watery smile materialized on your face. The light going off in her dark eyes. The honest smile and the little kick of energy that had suddenly been ignited in Nat were everything you had missed. There had been no hug and although you would have love nothing more than one of Nat’s warm, tight hugs, the warmth and feeling of being loved that was spreading in your chest was everything you had needed to feel better. Not so surprisingly, the cold loneliness and fear that had been suffocating you for weeks slowly melted away from your body. Breathing felt easier, like you had been freed of a huge weight. The world seemed to shine a little brighter and even the future looked a little less glum. You were at peace.

Somehow, that single little smile and the little twinkle in Nat’s eyes, were enough for you to know that you’d be okay. Because you were finally not alone in the world anymore. You had found your family. And maybe, just maybe, when the next wave of sadness inevitably came, you could just let them know how you were feeling. And you wouldn’t been alone in your fight against it anymore.

As you were thinking about all of this and trying to inconspicuously wipe away the tears that were flowing down your cheeks, a funny thought stumbled into your mind. Maybe happy ever after really did exist, just not like in the way fairytales described. Maybe being happy meant having the freedom to fully be yourself and to be able to share yourself with people who loved you unconditionally.

#avengers #fanfiction #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #sam wilson #tony stark #friendship #friends #marvel imagine #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #nat x reader #natasha x y/n

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fanficwriting · 2 years

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Steve: what am I doing wrong??

Sam: do you want me to answer as a friend or a therapist?

Steve: I-a friend.

Sam: see a therapist.

#sam wilson #steve rogers #marvel #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel comics #i #incorrect steve rogers #incorrect sam wilson #he does not have time for white bullshit #go see a therapist #you have surpassed the friendship quota and are now definitely at the #you rlly need therapy and to stop asking what you did wrong #when we laid out and estaboished your destructive tendencies weeks ago #jjust saying #lol

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the-widow-sisters · 2 years

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Hi,

first of all, I just want to say that I absolutely adore all of your stories. You are one of my most favourite writers on AO3 who writes about Widow Sisters. ❤️

Secondly, I want to ask if it would be possible for you to write a role-reversal of Opening Her Heart?

I love that story and I'd love to see the reversal + maybe a little of Kate in it as well, since she wasn't in the original. 🤗

P.S. I love how you portray Kate + Yelena + Natasha dynamic. 🥰

A/N: Thank you so, so much 🥺💗💗💗 You are so sweet, and it means so much that you like the Natkatlena dynamic (and yes I just thought that up on the spot 🤣 It’s a working title) 💖 It’s always the best thing ever to hear from you guys 😊

And gosh, y’all.... Wow! Haven't had a mostly Natasha-and-Yelena-centered one in a while! Hopefully I haven't quite lost my touch when it comes to writing some of our favorite sisters 😂💗 I guess you’re about to dive in and find out 😅😬

I hope y’all enjoy! 🥰

Word Count: 1849

A text on Natasha’s phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. Natasha flinched minutely as she reached down and withdrew the thing from her pants’ pocket.

Natasha looked down at her phone, subtly sneaking a glance underneath the table as she diverted her attention from the utterly riveting meeting that she was being forced to sit through.

It was yet another painful meeting with Steve droning on and on about something or another that really did not have to be drawn out as long as it was. She was currently bored stiff, and Yelena was not even there to offer her entertainment of any sort.

Yelena had been spared from going because Carol was currently present for the meeting. Carol had been relatively open to coming to it, happily sitting next to Natasha and settling in, but now that it had gone on for at least an hour, Natasha could see how the blonde was shifting uncomfortably in her seat and casting one too many glances at the clock on the wall.

“Whatcha looking at?” Carol leaned over and questioned softly, her mouth close to Natasha’s ear as she whispered carefully. Natasha glanced in her direction briefly before tilting the phone to the side to show her the screen. Carol looked down as she eyed the phone alongside Natasha. Natasha pulled up the text that she had received, quickly recognizing it as Kate.

“Tasha I hope you’re done with the meeting! Yelena turned into Squishzilla!” Kate had sent to her, and Natasha raised an eyebrow, confused as she looked at the text. Carol chuckled heartily, trying to keep her voice down.

“Squishzilla. Gosh, I wonder what she did to get shortie fired up,” Carol pondered aloud in a whisper, and Natasha narrowed her eyes a little.

“You don’t know that she did something to fire her up,” Natasha optimistically expressed, trying to give Yelena the benefit of the doubt despite the fact that she knew Kate had likely done something inadvertently to rub Yelena just the wrong way and set her off.

“I accidentally fired her up!” Kate suddenly sent, following up her last text. Natasha paused before sighing, and Carol almost snorted, barely keeping it down.

“I called it,” Carol proudly pointed out, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at Carol half-heartedly. Natasha then shifted her gaze back up to look at Steve.

“I’ve got to go and see about this. And I don’t think he’s anywhere close to finishing up…”

“I can make him finish up if you want me to,” Carol offered, and Natasha looked at her uncertainly. Natasha finally nodded, and Carol replied with a nod of her own as she diverted her attentions to her boyfriend.

“Hey, babe, as hot as you are when you’re up there trying to be large and in-charge, we’ve got to get some relief,” Carol spoke up suddenly, interrupting him in the midst of whatever he had been going on about.

Natasha almost grinned as she looked between Carol and Steve. Steve turned redder than a beet and Carol was just smiling an enormous, suggestive, cheese-eating grin.

Tony immediately clapped his hands, offering full approval of Carol’s proposition, and Sam waggled his eyebrows at Steve teasingly. Bruce just stared at the group, shaking his head slowly, and Peter was almost as red-faced as Steve even though the comment was not about him whatsoever. Steve stammered for several moments until finally clearing his throat. Rhodey just chuckled at Tony’s overenthusiasm.

“Yeah, uh… Let’s… Take a brief break,” Steve agreed, his eyes locked onto Carol. Carol grinned, her eyes sparkling as she watched him mischievously. Tony got up, stretching luxuriously before patting Steve on the back affectionately yet roughly.

“See, Rogers, this is why I always said that you needed to get l—”

“Stark,” Steve warned, but his reddened face ruined quite a bit of the effect. Tony raised his hands in defense before heading over to talk to Rhodey. Carol flashed Natasha a thumbs-up as she stood up, and Natasha nodded to her gratefully, mouthing a thank-you.

Carol winked at her before heading over to Steve, and Natasha got up, making her way for the door.

“So… I have some more… specific… questions that I need you to address,” Natasha overheard Carol flirtatiously addressing Steve. There were immediate catcalls from some of the guys, and definitive groans from others.

Natasha just rolled her eyes, and without a word, left to go and check on Kate and Yelena and see why Yelena was being considered Squishzilla.

Kate finally sent her the location that she was currently holed up at, and Natasha soon found herself standing before two large columns that were separated just close enough for Kate to hoist herself up by spreading her legs to inch upward to the ledge above. Fortunately for Kate, Yelena’s legs weren’t long enough for her to inch up between the columns as Kate had done.

Which was why Yelena was currently standing at the bottom, her eyes narrowed as she glared up at the brunette. Natasha could practically feel the irritation rolling off of her baby sister in waves, and Kate was sitting just high enough to keep Yelena from effectively reaching her.

“Okay, so what’s happening here?” Natasha asked, and Yelena turned quickly to look at the redhead. As soon as Yelena made eye contact with her, she loosened up some. To the untrained eye, it was completely unnoticeable, but to Natasha, it was quite obvious. Yelena’s eyes softened just barely, and while there was still a large amount of irritation toward Kate, she was obviously happy to see Natasha.

“You say that like you knew this was going on,” Yelena astutely pointed out, and Kate let out a long breath.

“Thank you, Tasha… Squishzill— Yelena was getting out of hand,” Kate quickly revised her words, trying to keep Yelena from figuring out about the name she had used for her via text. Kate made a slight face, cringing as Yelena swiftly spun around again to glare at Kate.

“What did you call me?”

“Well… Obviously Yelena,” Kate chuckled nervously. Yelena narrowed her eyes.

“No, before that,” Yelena clarified, definitive danger in her voice. Kate laughed nervously, scratching the back of her neck a little as she fidgeted. Natasha glanced between the two. Kate swallowed, wetting her lips just barely before shooting Yelena a winning smile.

“Y’know… I said whatever you wanted me to say,” Kate declared, and Yelena just stared at her.

“I mean… I could’ve said Yelena… Could’ve said… Other mentorish figure… Other big si—”

“Get out of here,” Yelena tiredly interrupted, utterly and completely unimpressed with Kate’s efforts. Kate nodded immediately in reply to her.

“Will do,” Kate quickly replied before dropping down from the ledge she had climbed up on, barely keeping her footing as she darted away as quickly as she could.

Yelena groaned, and Natasha stepped a little closer as she lifted her hand slowly to brush against Yelena’s arm. Yelena immediately looked back at her, and Natasha felt her heart melt as she spotted the utterly soft and adoring look in her eyes as she regarded the redhead.

Yelena immediately turned her body to Natasha, offering the older woman her full attention as she eyed her. Natasha reached out to her lovingly, her hands cupping either side of her baby sister’s neck. Her thumbs gently rubbed the sides of Yelena’s neck, the callouses brushing softly against the soft skin. Yelena leaned toward her instinctively, attempting to draw closer to her.

Natasha’s heart warmed at the mere sight of her baby sister wanting to be so close, and she moved nearer to oblige her. Yelena immediately moved in as close as she could, her nose pressed firmly into Natasha’s neck as she took a deep, long breath of her.

Natasha shifted her hands away from the sides of Yelena’s neck to use one to cradle the nape of Yelena’s neck with the other rubbing her back softly. Yelena just leaned her full body into her, and Natasha steadied herself in order to keep Yelena from ploughing over her.

“Bad day?” Natasha whispered finally, already having her answer from the desperation that Yelena was exhibiting in her every motion and how she was seeking to be as near to Natasha as she could possibly manage. She did not bother asking what Kate had done because knowing Yelena, Kate did not really have to do anything. If she was in one of those moods, anything could have set her off.

Yelena just let out an indignant harrumph to Natasha’s words. However, it was largely half-hearted as she hugged Natasha’s middle with an arm and pulled Natasha’s shoulder closer against her face with the other to hide a little more efficiently from the world.

Yelena finally nodded against her, nuzzling her nose against Natasha’s jaw as she rooted her way around to resting her chin on Natasha’s shoulder. Natasha huffed lightly at her little sister, and she turned her head to deliver a gentle kiss to the side of the blonde’s head.

Natasha gently pulled Yelena over to the couch not too far away from them, and as soon as she pulled Yelena down on top of her, Yelena eyed her quizzically. However, her entire body was just relaxed heavily into Natasha’s.

“Don’t you have to be at a meeting?” Yelena asked uncertainly.

“Nah, Carol’s got us covered. She’s provided a pretty nice distraction,” Natasha chuckled, smirking a bit, and Yelena wrinkled her nose.

“Why does that sound like she did something gross?” Yelena asked tentatively and with evident disgust in her voice.

Natasha almost chuckled as she thought of Carol and Steve’s relationship and the fact that they would definitely not be going any further than kissing. Of course, with Yelena, it only had to be looking into each other’s eyes or talking about something less than perfectly unrelated to romance for it to be gross to the younger blonde.

“Because to you,” Natasha paused as she shifted underneath Yelena to tug her down into her arms a little more securely, “it probably is gross.”

Yelena laid her head on Natasha’s chest immediately, and Natasha stroked through her hair with her fingers, the fingernails brushing the scalp as she dragged long lines down from the crown of her head to the base of her neck.

“Whatever. As long as the Boomer keeps him busy,” Yelena finally resigned, and Natasha smiled gently, kissing Yelena’s head near her hairline as she held her in her arms.

There was silence for a long moment until Yelena dug her nose into Natasha’s shirt more deeply and sighed.

“U menya byl plokhoy den'... No eto uzhe ne tak. Ne seychas, kogda ty zdes',”1 Yelena mumbled into her, and Natasha smiled softly at her words.

“Mozhet byt', u menya i ne bylo plokhogo dnya, no ty vsegda delayesh' moy den' luchshe, detka,”2 Natasha assured her, and Yelena nestled closer as she closed her eyes. Natasha nuzzled her head, just enjoying her baby sister’s weight on top of her.

They just made each other’s days better.

(1) "I had a bad day... But it's not anymore... Not now that you're here."

(2) "I might not have been having a bad day, but you always make my day better, baby."

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stucktogether · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel) Additional Tags: Minor Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Mentioned Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, CEO Steve Rogers, Engineer Bucky Barnes, Flirting, Charming Steve Rogers, Smitten Bucky Barnes, Drinking, Mentioned Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bearded Steve Rogers Summary:

So, a blonde and a brunette walk into a bar…

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“Steve, I’ve had a great time talking with you. But I don’t really know why I even came here and… I don’t want to waste more of your time. I’m sorry.”

“You can waste my time,” Steve’s eyes soften. “As much as you want. I don’t really do this much these days but I just… You’re so pretty, Buck. And you’re sweet and I really wanna know how that whiskey tastes on your lips.”

Okay, so maybe Bucky can do one more one-night stand.

#stucky #stucky fic #stevebucky #modern au #flirting #sam wilson #natasha romanov #steve x bucky #buckynat friendship #sam/nat #steve rogers sam wilson friendship #ceo!steve rogers

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faeriecap · 10 months

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idc i don’t WANT old man steve to come back in cap 4 and pat sam on the back like his grizzled mentor or something i wanted THIS:

#literally why would you make sam the new cap the exact sam moment you write steve out of the narrative 😭#**EXACT SAME omg #we deserved more samsteve content where they’re on equal footing and sam isn’t just comedic relief or involved in steve’s shit #sam deserved sTEVE giving him comfort and support back!!! what did he even do for sam as his friend like fr #and this is why we deserved sam!cap at the end of catws or cacw!#safety #protection #for steve to return the friendship sam has ALWAYS given him #serpent society…. if you’re out there…..#steeb #sammich #i speak #samsteve #sam wilson #steve rogers #captain america #comics #cabnw #captain america brand new world

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anika-ann · 5 months

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Back and Forth - masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x agent! Inhuman!reader

Type: enemies-ish to lovers series

Summary: Calling yourself an Avenger would be overstatement, even if you have been joining them on missions quite frequently lately. Calling them your friends would be an overstatement also. Calling you and Steve Rogers friends, now that would be an insult to the entity of friendship – though unlike him, you have enough self-awareness to admit that he isn't the only one to blame for that. Most of the time anyway.

However, the Avengers need your abilities and so you and Steve tolerate each other – or at least you’re trying, your back and forth visibly annoying your colleagues and exhausting you both.

And then you’re thrown into a situation where mere tolerance isn’t an option. That should end well, shouldn’t it?

Characters to appear: Steve Rogers, ‘reader’, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, mentions of Phil Coulson, Daisy Johnson and few others

Setting: slight AU 'cause everyone lives thank you very much, no Civil War or further, references to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D without a fixed timeline

Warnings: besides canon-typical violence, this series deals with topics which might be trigerring for some people - please, read with caution and resposibility

Playlist 🎵 (NEW)

STORYLINE:

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3.1 // Part 3.2

Part 4.1 // Part 4.2

Part 5

Part 6.1 // Part 6.2

Part 7

Epilogue

Number of parts/chapters is estimated. Did I add one extra already? Yeah, but shhh

Dividers by firefly-graphics, moodboard by me - and created for the vibes, for it does not necessarily reflect the reader's appearance.

Taglist open 🥰

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #agent reader #shield agent reader #inhuman reader #avenger reader #steve rogers #captain america #back and forth #back and forth masterlist #anika ann

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ltbarnes · 4 months

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‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

#stark u #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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burberrycanary · 1 year

Photo

Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) by @burberrycanary

Stucky, Endgame Fix-it

Coming back from as good as dead to a changed world is easier the second time around. But then Steve supposes that, like with most things, you get better with practice. (Sequel to The Same River, Twice.)

—

A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky Endgame fix-it where even if you can’t go home again, you’ve got to go somewhere.

Thanks to my amazing betas @deadalien, @zenaidamacrouras1 and @village-skeptic 💖

—

Read it on AO3

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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MCU characters, any of them, would they just flirt or pine after their crush?

Hm, so just one or the other? Hm. Okay, I'll try not put too much overlap then cause... flirting and pining goes so hand in hand for me.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, Shuri, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker x Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, angst, flirting, teasing, pining, kissing, feelings realization, protectiveness

A/N: I just realized that one of my other fluffy MCU posts got flagged lmao. Don't know for that cause there was nothing smutty in there so hopefully this one is ok for Tumblr.

Steve is a complete gentleman while he flirts with you. He's prim and proper, almost courtly in the way he always offers you his arm to take when you take walks... well anywhere, even just down to the coffee shop down the street. He buys you flowers, always has his jacket ready to give you when it gets cold, offers to buy you a drink or does a silly little bow when you walk past him. He'll enjoy how you blush when he kisses your cheek, almost able to feel them warming up just from a little touch of his lips. How would you react is he kissed you on the lips? You might pass out. You can, he'll catch you.

Bucky is pining hard after you. He tries to distract himself from it all, going on missions, spending time with the Avengers and the Thunderbolts rather then in your company in order to get his feelings to go away. He doesn't want to get hurt but more importantly he doesn't want to hurt you, or be the reason someone else hurts you. Your friendship is important to him and he hates the thought of messing it up. Even if you do return his feelings he can't help but think how he doesn't deserve you, that you're too good for him. However even with all those feelings he won't stop helping you, or protecting you when you need it, wrapping his arm securely around your shoulders when the two of you walk home from the dance club or playing the protective boyfriend when someone won't leave you alone.

Sam can be a flirt when he wants to be. He's not one to back down when he sees you at the bar, chatting away with your friends and he wants to approach you. The thing is... he's not the smoothest at first. It definitely takes him a little to get on your good side but he's looking so cute and handsome with his shining smile and warm eyes that you can't help but laugh at the jokes he makes or the way he leans over just a little and brushes his shoulders against yours, inviting you towards the dance floor. One thing that he really confidant in is his dance moves, let him show off for you a little tonight, or a lot depending on how the night goes.

Natasha is extremely confidant in her flirting skills. However there is a hint of pining in there too. Not in a sense that she thinks she can't have you, you're falling over yourself just from a wink and a touch. No she's worried if your feelings would last past the initial puppy love stage. She knows full well how easy it is to have someone wrapped around her finger, ready to do anything she says because of a little kiss. It's so damn easy, too easy. So she wants you to be a bit of a challenge, to make it fun, to make it real. A little game of cat and mouse, or widow and prey in her case, can go a long way when it comes to winning her heart too.

Clint wants to flirt with you so badly but instead he catches himself pining for you as you seemed to have moved on since the universe reset itself. Before he would have swept you off your feet, all charming smiles and quips, but he can't find the energy for that anymore, he just wants to know that you're safe and alive and well. If that means not making a move on you then he will make that sacrifice. He can watch over you from afar, or from close since you're still pretty good friends. Aware that you had feelings for him before he doesn't want to give you false hope in fear of breaking your heart.

Thor is one of the most cocky flirts out there. He's had many, many years to perfect his pick up lines, and sometimes he doesn't even need them, sometimes a heated look is all it takes. The feeling of you shivering against his muscular body ignites the thunder in his veins, the feeling of need in his blood that makes him want you right now. There are definitely sparks flying, and not just metaphorically, but from his fingertips, his lips, his tongue as it presses against the back of your neck, promising more if you'd only go home with him tonight and let him show you what worshiping a god will grant you.

Loki can flirt with you as naturally as he can breathe. At first he's just looking at you, letting you be drawn to him, letting you be the one to approach him first. He wants to feel chased, desired, needed. The next thing you know you are in his lap while he whispers sweet things in your ear that make your head spin, your heart skip a beat and your cheeks grow hot. He takes great pleasure in the effect he has on you just from his words alone, just imagine what he would be able to do if he were to touch you. Oh, you think he'd let you have him that easily, oh no, gods no, he's got much more planned before that. He intends to make you the one who pines after him, only after he's had his fun will he let you have yours.

Shuri is playful but proper when she flirts with you. She might be busy through the day with lab work but she makes a point to take a few minutes every hour or so to send you a little voice message. They might come at the most random of times for you but they don't startle you anymore. You kind of expect her sweet voice in your ear and when you don't hear from her for hours you get worried and needy. All the more cause to tease and flirt with you afterwards. She holds your hand was you walk the halls of the palace and always presses a long kiss on the back of your hand when its time to part.

Kate wants to be good at flirting but messes up half-way through because she loses the confidence. She's definitely overthinking it in her head, what she could have said differently or how she could have approached you better. The poor girl is so wrapped up in her insecurities that she doesn't realize that you're already head over heels, swooning for her as it is. Your kiss upon her cheek almost makes her fall out of the bar chair she was sitting on, her tie coming slightly undone in an extremely attractive way. Instead of giving you the chance to explain that it wasn't a pity kiss she just leaves, but forgets her card. So you have her number now, all that's left is to call her and tell her how cute she is.

Peter is most definitely pining in silence from the other side of the classroom. He averts his eyes when he sees you looking his way, going back to his notes quickly. Pulls his hood over his head when he passes you by in the hallways, too shy to talk to you outside of class or when you're working on a project together. Speaking of he's really looking forward to spending the day at the library with you, its where he feels pretty relaxed and he can focus more easily. Even after he's already been a hero for some time he doesn't risk letting his feelings show but out of worry and protectiveness, not insecurity this time.

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swan-of-sunrise · 5 months

Text

His Girl Friday

Summary: At Tony Stark's forty-fourth birthday party, the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist and his longtime personal assistant finally address what's remained unspoken but secretly acknowledged between them for many, many years.

Pairings: Tony Stark X F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first time writing a Tony-centric fic and I had a lot of fun with it, so thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

His Girl Friday May 29th, 2014 Avengers Tower, New York City (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Being employed as Anthony Edward Stark’s personal assistant was a challenging and often times perilous job, and that was before he’d announced himself to the world as Iron Man. But (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no ordinary personal assistant; she stood by the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist when he vowed to stop producing weapons at Stark Industries after being imprisoned by terrorists for three long months, she stuck with him when his secret illness and subsequent erratic behavior drove nearly everyone else away, and she flat-out refused to believe he’d been killed at the hands of the Mandarin. It was evident that Tony Stark was the closest thing she had to a best friend. Lately, however, she’d begun to notice a significant shift in her feelings towards her employer, feelings that definitely went beyond friendship and feelings that she suspected he was feeling as well; she tried her best to keep them at bay, fearful of ruining such a meaningful friendship and throwing away the only job she’d ever truly enjoyed on a baseless suspicion, and thankfully, there were always plenty of distractions to keep herself preoccupied with in her unique line of work.

From her place at the back of the room, (Y/N) scanned over the enormous checklist in her hands to see if she’d missed anything important; the guests were chatting, dancing and taking full advantage of the open bar while the DJ was playing all of Tony’s favorite songs in honor of his forty-forth birthday. All in all, not one of the worst birthday parties I’ve ever planned for him, she thought to herself, a reluctant smile playing on her lips as she recalled the disastrous thirty-ninth birthday party that resulted in the Malibu mansion’s near destruction at the hands of Tony and Rhodey. That particular birthday party was the reason why she’d initially been a little nervous at the prospect of the Avengers attending the soiree, but it only took a brief glance around the bustling common room to see that they were the perfect guests; Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson played pool with Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, while Bruce Banner hovered near the back of the enamored crowd of people that surrounded a slightly-inebriated Thor and listened to his enthusiastic re-tellings of the adventures he’d had on Asgard. Pepper and Dr. Helen Cho were seated at the bar and chatted over glasses of Chardonnay while Happy was hyper-focused on his phone, no doubt catching up on an episode of Downton Abbey. With an inward chuckle, the personal assistant returned her attention to her lengthy list of tasks as the classic rock music continued to play.

“Hey beautiful, how ‘bout a dance?”

“Sorry, but I’m worki-” (Y/N) looked up to see Tony Stark himself standing before her, looking as handsome as ever in his expertly tailored black tuxedo and flashing her his signature grin that never failed to make her heart skip a beat. “Hey, you. How’re you enjoying your birthday party?”

Tony tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged noncommittally. “It’s one of your better-executed extravaganzas, I will say, but it would absolutely skyrocket to the top if I could spend the rest of the evening with my favorite personal assistant.”

(Y/N) arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Tony, I’m your only personal assistant.”

“Exactly, which meant you get the title by default. Yay you!” The billionaire gave her a small applause and she simply heaved an exasperated but fond sigh at his typical theatrics. “C’mon, Girl Friday, you’ve been working your ass off all night and the Birthday Boy says that you should take a well-deserved break.” As his trademark smirk softened into a gentle smile, Tony took his hand out of his pocket and offered it to her in a clear invitation to join him. “Please?”

Although her heart was screaming at her to take his hand and allow him to whisk her into an evening of laughter and coy flirtations, the rational part of her knew that she had a job to complete and that anything more than a friendly conversation could jeopardize their platonic relationship. Masking her disappointment with a shrug and apologetic smile, (Y/N) shook her head and held up her checklist for him to see. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I still have so much to do; I’ve gotta do another check-in with Maria and the security team downstairs, make sure that the pastry chef brings out the cake on time, that the waiters serve the guests champagne at the right tempera-Tony!” She exclaimed when Tony’s hand shot out and snatched the checklist out of her grasp. “Anthony Edward Stark, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting rid of an obstacle,” Tony easily replied, holding the checklist above his head and snickering when she unsuccessfully attempted to snatch it back. “Seriously, Girl Friday, just one dance and I’ll let you get back to your boring planning. I’ll even avoid bugging you the rest of the night if it means I can spend a little time with one of my best friends.”

Tony’s rare sincerity softened (Y/N)’s heart, and she felt her resolve crumble as she stared into his gleaming brown eyes. “All right, one dance. Do you ever get tired with always getting your way?”

“Nope!” Tony happily popped the ‘p’ and tucked the checklist into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket before offering her his hand once again, and (Y/N) smiled to herself as the billionaire escorted her to the edge of the dance floor and whisked her into a slow dance to Bon Jovi’s ‘Bed of Roses.’ The warmth of his hand on the curve of her waist combined with the feel of his body brushing up against hers caused her heartbeat to quicken its pace, and she silently prayed that he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her. “You know, I was being serious before. You’ve truly outdone yourself tonight, (Y/N), and can I just say that you look amazing?” Tony’s eyes briefly glanced down at her red chiffon evening gown and he gave her an appreciative nod. “Mm-hmm, hot-rod red is definitely your color. So, what’s your secret? How is it you can organize and schedule a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist’s entire life and look drop-dead gorgeous while doing it?”

(Y/N) chuckled in amusement, the skirt of her gown swirling around her legs as he twirled her in a circle. “We all have our own superpowers; you fight aliens and terrorists in a red and gold Nitinol suit, and I oversee the hectic life of the man inside the suit to the best of my abilities.”

“Not sure which is the more dangerous job, to be honest.” Tony smirked, expertly guiding her back into his arms and holding her slightly closer than he had before. “But if I could do that death-glare that you’ve perfected over the years, then that would sure make my job a helluva lot easier and people would think twice before messing with Iron Man.” (Y/N) arched a brow and in response, Tony snickered. “Yep, there’s the death-glare!”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but this death-glare is tailor-made for Tony Stark and Tony Stark alone,” (Y/N) replied with a wry smile, and the billionaire’s grin widened as she looked into his sparkling brown eyes. They danced together in a comfortable yet expectant silence, almost as if one was waiting for the other to speak first, but both remained quiet while the 80’s power ballad continued to play; it wasn’t until she noticed the way he was biting his lower lip – one of the few tell-tale signs that there was something weighing heavy on the billionaire’s mind – that (Y/N) finally mustered her courage to address him. “You got a lot of cool presents this year, not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars in charitable donations gifted in your name. Not too shabby, huh?”

Tony shrugged and replied, “I’m a sucker for gifts and I’m beyond stoked that we’ve raised so much in donations, but…” His eyes briefly flicked downwards to focus on the fluttering movement of her chiffon skirt, suddenly appearing as anxious as (Y/N) felt. “Can we play a quick round of Hypothetical Hold’em?”

A nostalgic feeling washed over (Y/N) at the mention of their old game. Back in the more impulsive and less responsible days of Tony Stark, it had been an effective form of decision-making created out of the billionaire’s respect for her opinions and general advice; they hadn’t played very many rounds in the years since he announced to the world that he was Iron Man and while she was happy that he’d grown and matured so much over the years, a small part of her missed their little game. “I’m a little rusty but I think I’ve still got it. Shoot.”

“A guy I know, Walter, he’s got just about everything he could possibly want in life, except the only thing he really wants is something he can’t have. You see,” Tony expertly dipped her and her breath hitched at the sudden movement, their eyes connecting as he continued. “There’s this woman – let’s call her Hildy – and he’s been in love with her for a while. And Hildy, she’s goddamn fantastic: smart, kind, funny, gorgeous, the whole enchilada.”

Heart sinking into her stomach, (Y/N) mustered up a small smile to hide her pain while he slowly righted her. “Hildy sounds wonderful. So, what’s stopping this Walter guy from telling her how he feels?”

“A couple of things, actually.” He took a deep breath. “She’s not just one of his best friends, but…you see, she’s also his personal assistant.”

The din of the party faded away as (Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock at the billionaire’s candid words; if not for the seriousness written across Tony’s face and the longing gleam that had formed in his brown eyes while he stared into hers, she would’ve assumed that he was pulling her leg. But she knew him, knew him far better than almost anyone else in the world, and it was clear as day that he was speaking directly from the heart. “…Oh.”

Tony nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a tried and true attempt to hide behind a more lighthearted façade. “She’s taken such good care of him. He was a loose cannon for a long time…still is, in a way, but she’s gotten him through all the tough spots. He’s good friends with some ex-assassins, a super-soldier and a literal god, but she’s the strongest person he’s ever met and the only person he could ever imagine giving his heart to. But as much as he loves her, he’s not willing to roll the dice and risk losing her from his life forever; that’s why he…” Tony cast his gaze downwards and his hand gripped hers tight. “That’s why I never said anything before.”

“So, what changed?” She whispered as she slowly moved the hand that had been resting on his shoulder to press against the spot where his arc reactor once resided, feeling his rapid heartbeat and silently marveling at how perfectly it matched her own.

“Looking across the room and seeing you with your checklist; you’ve planned over a dozen successful birthday parties for me, but that didn’t stop you from treating tonight as if it was the first. It’s one of the thousand ways you show how much you care about me, and that’s what gave me the courage to walk to the back of the room and finally ask you for a dance.”

The booming opening chords of AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ filled the room and while more guests took to the dance floor for the lively song, (Y/N) grabbed Tony’s hand and practically dragged him away from the crowd, not stopping until they were tucked away from any prying eyes in Captain Rogers’ nearby office. When she closed the door behind them and turned around, she was met with an apprehensive-looking Tony and her subtle smile grew into an all-out grin as her eyes filled with happy tears. “You love me?”

“I love you,” Tony replied, his voice growing steady and his eyes filling with confidence at her obvious happiness. “C’mon, Girl Friday, you’re killing me here. Do you love me or what?”

Beaming with joy, (Y/N) brought her hands up to cup his face between them and nodded. “You’re such an asshat, but I love you with all my heart.” Tony’s grin grew to match her own and he leaned forward to kiss her, but was halted by her fingers covering his eager lips. “And in the spirit of covering both our asses, I’d like to take this moment to formally tenure my resignation, Mr. Stark.”

“Duly noted, Miss (Y/L/N). And since I’m such a good ex-boss, I’ll send your resume and a letter of recommendation to a certain defrosted super-soldier who could use all the assistance he can get.”

“Becoming Captain America’s personal assistant? It’ll be a cake-walk, but at least I’ll have my favorite hot mess to come home to.”

(Y/N) moved her hand and giggled at how quickly Tony’s arms wrapped around her waist to tug her closer, but her amusement soon gave way to passion as their lips finally met in a long overdue kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I figured that we all could use a little fluff, and what better way to deliver it than in a friends-to-lovers trope-fest? Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and I hope that you have a wonderful holiday season!

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