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fluffyprettykitty · 11 months

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sugar

Pairing: sugar daddy!Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 1200 words

Outline: Showing off your gifts to your benefactors.

Warnings: no powers au, pool sex, some power play, fingerfucking, dirty talk, pet names, switch!Nat, dom!tony, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), impact play maybe, if i missed anything major please let me know!

Author’s Note: based on my previous hds on tonynat & also used the precious help of the love of my life @that-sarcastic-writer 🖤also my first time writing a sugar baby au.

PS: dividers & banners by @saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・Tony Stark Masterlist ・❥・Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

"Just give it a twirl," Natasha says sitting back on the couch and crossing her legs. "You look absolutely beautiful in it." She continues admiring your body and the way the diamond bikini they had just gifted you looked on you.

"Just perfection." Tony mused taking a sip from his whiskey glass, his stare hard on you. It has been almost two months since that arrangement of yours started. Tony and Natasha both well-established socialites and business moguls were apparently so willing to share an end goal: you.

Three months ago you had walked inside that very office to apply for an assistant's job and by the end of the week, you had ended up on a private jet, legs apart with two tongues toying relentlessly with your pussy. Life was just amazing like that.

"Thank you." You beam and make a little curtsey. "Looks wonderful. Though not that practical." You wink at them and continue to strut around slowly.

"Well, it's for private sessions..." Tony said shrugging.

"Maybe watching you wear that while writing down Tony's speeches will have him actually show up to work." Natasha retorted and chuckled. "You know he needs it."

"Oh, she's mean already. I like that." Natasha just scoffed at his reply and you came closer to her, walking right in front of her.

"Turn around and kneel, baby." The red-haired woman instructed you and you followed suit turning around slowly and begging to kneel elegantly on the floor, showing off your accustoming diamond butt plug adorned in Natasha's business symbol.

"Now that's what I like to see, baby."

"Quite beautiful indeed. How about you go there inside the pool and see how well you can swim in that bikini." Tony said pointing at the warm indoor pool, its cyan waters looked mighty inviting. You slowly got back up and walked over to the ladder. Gracefully you get inside the pool and sink yourself inside rising back up.

"Just perfect." Tony mused as he came closer to sit by the chair nearby while Natasha ripped her dress off her body, and jumped right into the pool in her black underwear.

She crushed her lips onto yours pushing you against the pool's wall and roughly kissing your face and neck. You glanced a little just to watch Tony already palming himself at the sight of you.

"Don't you dare take it off," Natasha warned you holding your chin up and using her free hand to feel how your body felt under the water.

"N-never." You breathed out and just like that Natasha's lips were on your nipples, the diamonds slightly pushed aside and she was licking it around. It was hard for you to keep your body up so you tried sitting on the ladder steps for a grip.

Natasha gets rougher with each kiss and grasp of your skin, caressing the diamonds ever so delicately before roughly squeezing the skin underneath. Your hands stay on the barrister of the ladder trying to hold on as her one hand begins to rub on your pussy under the water, a unique yet familiar sensation. The red-haired woman was obsessed with fucking you in that particular pool and though she never has let you know about its sentimental value you're more than happy to follow her through.

Tony comes closer, dressed in his fancy robe. "I'm not in the mood to get wet tonight. Let's take her to bed." Natasha stops just to glare at him and that's when her hands begin to work faster on you.

"I don't feel like using the bed tonight."

"Natasha." He looks at her so sternly that has your own pussy clenching and clenching on Natasha's fingers, fuck, you felt coming close to an orgasm already.

"Don't you dare make her dumb this early."

Natasha only smirks before she adds more pressure to your clit and uses her fingers expertly to elicit an echoing moan from you.

"I-I'm cumming." You breathe out, your body shaking. "I can't-" You squeal as the coil inside you tightens. "Fuck, I can't." It's getting too much for you now, you need to release yourself and you can't be waiting for them to agree on something.

"Fuck!" You yell out and your body starts shaking your back arching.

"You're a really mean person," Tony says looking sternly at Natasha.

"You are a very annoying person." She chuckled and removed her fingers from you. "Go ahead, carry her to the master chamber."

Tony raises an eyebrow as he reaches down for you and ungrasps your hands from the banisters. "You've been such a good girl, now come with me to the bed and I'll show how annoying I can become for Miss Romanoff right here."

You were pliant to his touch as he helped you get up wrapped a towel around you and helped you walk to the chambers. Natasha followed close behind.

"On the bed both of you," Tony ordered the minute you walked through the door and you both got on the bed. Natasha sat with her knees together looking at you and caressing your cheek. "Have I been bad, Daddy?" Natasha mused rubbing her legs together, her short dress left nothing to the imagination.

"Yes, terribly, so." He chuckled, loosening up his dress robe. "You know what that means." Of course that was only a game between the two, Tony could never be mad at Natasha for whatever she felt like doing to you. Plus Tony was the greatest observer you've ever met during sex. He had previously spent hours upon hours watching you both straddle each other.

"Unlimited fun," Natasha smirked and pushed you down on the bed getting on top of you, pining you down to the mattress with her strong thighs. Tony chuckled and took off his robe allowing it to hit the floor before coming closer to the bed.

"Now open your mouth, princess." He instructed and you dutifully obeyed opening your mouth wide. He pushed his velvet boxers down revealing his hard erection and stroke it three times.

"Now get it very wet for me baby." You reached out with your hand to guide his member inside your mouth and kitty licked his tip first with a very satisfied look i your eyes. Natasha started moving her hips above you slowly, the hard diamonds adding a stingy sensation against your skin that you knew they would leave a bruise for tomorrow.

"Are we going to ruin kitten tonight?" Natasha asked looking at you as Tony moved his hips to force his cock down your throat.

"Hm, maybe we could see how much she can take. We got her such a special gift anyway, would be a waste not to treat as a specialty."

"Very well then."

And when Tony started with you, it was like he could never let you go.

And oh boy were you in for a night of fun....

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#selenewrites #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #iron man x reader #iron man smut #black widow x reader #black widow smut #tonynat #natasha romanoff #tony stark

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daniraevys · 1 year

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Tony(after nearly dying from space): You ever tried shawarma? I don't know what it is, but I really want to try it.

Avengers(internally): *sighing in relief* Oh thank god! We atleast got a fancy date after fighting off an alien army and seeing this adorable self-sacrificial idiot almost die!!

Loki: I would like to remind all of you that I was promised a drink first.

*Thor shutting Loki up with manacles and a gag*

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darsynia · 11 months

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Present Imperfect | Ch. 1: Day One

TONY STARK MASTERLIST | STORY MASTERLIST | NEXT

Written for @endlesstwanted for @tonysbirthdaygala!

Summary: After losing Pepper to Extremis, Tony decides to get the shrapnel (and thus his arc reactor) removed-- but he wakes up as President of the United States.

Tony's heart surgery is the last thing he remembers, a worst-case amnesia scenario that leaves the country with a leader who doesn't remember the last year of office, the election, or his marriage to the First Lady, Natasha Romanoff Stark. The country is two days into a national tragedy that's still unfolding, a biological attack on Washington, D.C. that has Tony and his key advisors underground as they coordinate the response-- but nothing about his situation feels right. Is Tony a national leader, a hero poised to save the country with a beautiful and beloved former colleague by his side? Or is he a billionaire superhero in need of rescue? Length/Warnings: 4,311 words // None this chapter

Note: Inspired by a Star Trek: TNG episode about long-term amnesia called Future Imperfect; Tony spends the story unraveling the truth about not just his own situation, but how he relates to someone he's known for years. This story has intrigue, twists, romance, and humor. It is at its heart a tale about two friends who don't truly see each other until that relationship is tested in various ways.

Excerpt:

“You’re not real,” he responds confidently. “I’m probably in a recovery room somewhere, and this--” Tony taps against the metal housing of his arc, under his sleep tee. “--isn’t going to be there when I wake up.”

Nat grabs the bedpost, her expression grave. “Cut it out, Tony.”

“That’s what the surgeons did, yes. No more shrapnel for me.”

The landline phone at his bedside table rings, and before Tony can pick it up to see what his narcotic-fuzzed mind will conjure up, Natasha’s already there. She picks it up and drops the receiver in a single motion.

“The surgery to remove the shrapnel failed five years ago. Are you saying--” she breaks off. Tony’s never seen her like this, casual, fond, half-naked under a fuzzy robe.

“I’d like to wake up now, is what I’m saying.” He slides his legs over to get up, but Nat doesn’t move away, which is odd. The worried affection on her face is odd, too. “Come on, President of the United States? I’d never be that stupid. National Security Advisor, maybe. All the credit, none of the bullshit accountability.” He stands up to mess with dream!Natasha, but she doesn’t move away. They’re right up against each other, enough that he can smell the spicy sweetness of her shampoo. Fuck, he misses incidentals like that. “We’d need more than five years of build-up for you to be willing to wake up in bed next to me, don’t you think?” Tony says harshly. He actually doesn’t know if that’s true, but he expects her reaction will be pretty revelatory.

Prologue, Christmas Day, 2013:

“Tony, I can’t regulate.”

He can’t let himself understand what she means, at least not before he clears his head. They’re crouched precariously on the ledge below where Pepper had nearly fallen, and he’s sure his ankle is broken. Tony doesn’t know which suit pushed the two of them over here after he’d jumped to catch her, but there’s no way to ask JARVIS. His earpiece fell into the flames below.

“Tony?”

“Give me a minute,” he says, his mind racing. “I gotta tell the suits you’re not a target.”

“I am a target. And Killian’s coming. Tony, promise me--” Pepper says, making a face and looking down, her eyes welling with tears. There’s a finality to her tone that he utterly rejects. Why didn’t he build a comm into his arc?

“It seems like your valiant rescue has warmed the lady’s heart, Stark!” Killian taunts, from across the twisted debris and open space.

He’s right; Pepper has started to glow slightly, her expression turning resolute.

“I almost figured this out drunk, Pep. Hold on just a couple more hours, okay?” He holds up his hands palm out as if he can stop her with just his will alone, shouting the words to remind their tormentor that Tony has info he needs.

“You don’t have that kind of time!” Killian jeers. He rears his head back and a jet of actual fire projects from his mouth, heating the metal gangway behind them, cutting off any escape.

“Do the suits know to catch you without the earpiece?” Pepper whispers.

Every cell in his body is stubborn iron. “I’m not leaving you.”

“How do you like the hot seat?” Killian asks, as Tony and Pepper scramble toward the edge to escape the heated metal.

“You’ll have comms, once I call one over with this,” she whispers, touching her chest as the eerie bright orange under her skin grows brighter.

“But, you said you couldn’t reg— Pep, Honey, don’t!” He can’t breathe; dread has displaced the air in his lungs.

Aldrich Killian leaps over, causing the structure to sag with an awful metallic groan. “This is better than live theater! No, no, do go on,” he exhorts, holding his arms wide.

“I love you,” Pepper whispers to Tony fiercely. “Take care of yourself? The company? I need to know you’ll let yourself be happy again.”

“Shut it down, Pepper. We’ll find another way!”

All of his suits are fighting elsewhere, too far to risk the jump. Shit.

Pepper’s come to that same conclusion. “This is taking too long. JARVIS, WE NEED YOU!” she screams, standing up.

Killian tsks. “Not sure you want to do that, Potts.”

“No, NO. Get down!” Tony begs desperately. She doesn’t know JARVIS is targeting the Extremis heat signatures-- but that’s just it: Extremis. If he can push her off, she’ll survive. He’ll be able to jump after her, if the approaching light he can see in the distance is what he thinks it is. Mark 42’s whole purpose is to stop him from the fatal fall he dreams about every night.

“Stay back, you arrogant jerk!” Pepper cries out, thrusting out her hand toward Killian. “We just want to live!” she adds, and the obvious lie shoots adrenaline through Tony’s body. He’s burning up-- the metal underneath him is searing, and Pepper’s gone so hot that her pants are burning off of her. His ankle has stopped hurting, probably because of the shock, so Tony forces himself to his feet, bracing himself for her outrage when he pulls them both out into thin air.

“You ready?” he says, directing his words toward Killian, but Pep should know they’re about her.

“As I’ll ever be,” she answers sweetly, still facing their enemy. With a quick look over her shoulder, Pepper says, “Forgive me,” and throws a red-hot hand toward each of them. Her palm strikes his chest hard just above his reactor, launching Tony off of the edge.

The pain from the immediate burn is nothing compared to how much it hurts to watch Pepper sink her other hand into Killian’s chest, pulling out his heart and reducing it to ash in seconds. She’s fighting Tony’s battle for him, and he can do nothing but watch, as he falls. The surface of the water is rapidly approaching, so he plugs his nose, hitting the water right before the heated flare of explosion shoves him deeper. A second later, the familiar comfort of an Iron Man suit encloses his body. Tony shuts his eyes, his soul and body aflame, adrift.

He knows what the explosion was. Pepper’s gone.

Day One

A gentle hand on his shoulder wakes him up.

“Mr. President? I’m sorry, sir. I let you sleep as long as I could.”

Tony opens his eyes. He’s hearing things, probably thanks to the anesthesia or whatever pain meds they’ve put him on, because his chest doesn’t hurt at all. He scrubs a hand over his face and rolls onto his back.

A strange woman is standing there with an apologetic look on her face.

He jumps back in surprise, scooting up to a seated position and pulling up the sheet in an exaggerated action of pretend modesty. Tony looks at the stranger in a business skirt set standing beside the bed. “Weird outfit for a nurse. I’ll hand it to SHIELD on the level of hospital bed luxury, though.”

“Tony?”

The voice is Natasha’s, and she’s buried in the blankets beside him like she belongs there. As he watches in stunned confusion, she lifts up, blankets falling away from her barely-there nightgown as she reaches a concerned hand toward his forehead. Tony doesn’t move away, even though his instincts tell him to. It’s been so long since anyone touched him. In the months since losing Pepper, he’d lived a monk-like existence, acting more like a recluse widower than his old carefree self.

“Forgive me Mrs. Stark, but the security briefing is in ten minutes, and--”

“It’s fine, Cora, thank you. Tell them he’ll be ten minutes late, will you?” Natasha says briskly. Tony tries to pay attention in the midst of all this confusion because there’s a lot of skin on display here, but, security briefing? Mrs. Stark?? “You can blame it on me, if you like,” she’s saying now. Her tone is loving, playful, and he actually relaxes. It’s obviously a dream. His attention-starved mind has finally lost it. The real Natasha Romanoff will kick his ass if she ever finds out this is what he dreamed about post heart surgery.

Tony folds his arms behind his head and watches as ‘Cora’ picks her way across the small, dark room and opens the door. The hallway beyond looks just as he’d have expected, utilitarian and soulless, logical for a medical facility in the heart of SHIELD. Does that mean he’s hallucinating instead?

“Okay, were you playing dumb to punish Cora for waking you up? I know you’re sick of being stuck down here,” Natasha says, getting up and putting on a robe that hides everything fun about Tony’s bizarre dreamallucination.

Nat grabs the bedpost, her expression grave. “Cut it out, Tony.”

“That’s what the surgeons did, yes. No more shrapnel for me.”

“The surgery to remove the shrapnel failed five years ago. Are you saying--” she breaks off. Tony’s never seen her like this, casual, fond, half-naked under a fuzzy robe.

“Don’t sell yourself short, babe,” she says, arching up to press a brief but luscious kiss to his lips. He doesn’t have time to react further, because she sidesteps over to a wardrobe, pulling out a suit and matching shirt. “Hot rod red for the tie? Or are you going to wear the yellow one again and bitch about not getting to see the sun?”

“The latter, obviously,” he says. This… doesn’t feel unfamiliar. “Uh, can we go back to the five years thing? I know this is a dream and you’re just as likely to sprout tentacles as anything else, but--”

Natasha's expression of vulnerability is back. “Get dressed? I think this-- how about I call Rhodey. If it is what I think it is…”

He starts undressing in front of her, but it occurs to him that out of all of the Avengers, Nat can keep her composure through just about anything. So much for trying shock value to jumpstart her out of whatever farce this is.

She’s standing there holding out his shirt, and he needs to put underwear on. “Turn around?”

Her face crumples for a split second, but Natasha blinks and nods, laying the shirt down on the bed. “One sec.” She makes her way past him, holding her hand in a fist as if preventing herself from reaching for him on the way, which is interesting. Lifting the phone, she asks for Rhodey rather than dialing anything.

There’s a tap on the door, accompanied by the words, “Ten minutes,” but Tony’s distracted by the fact that there’s a cover over his arc reactor. He walks the few steps to the narrow mirror atop a small dresser, noting that the cover is fitted, even beautiful, with a circular design not unlike his first model etched in relief on the metal.

“Put this on,” Natasha says as she comes up behind him with his shirt.

“Undershirt?” he objects, but she shakes her head.

“No time. We need you out of the security briefing with no more than five minutes overtime if you want to talk to Rhodes.”

“I thought I was the President! Shouldn’t I get to do what I want?” he teases, knowing full well this is not at all the case.

Her response is sobering (and more confirmation of the unreality of his situation). “There’s a reason why we’re in a tiny room with no windows, Tony. Do me a favor and try not to look surprised at anything you hear at this thing? If you do, play it off, and we’ll get you caught up after.”

He allows himself to be led through the process of dressing, impressed by her competency in using the brief moments in between to put together a killer outfit of her own. Tony’s slipping on his dress shoes when the door flies open with no knock, and the woman from before (Karen? Cara? The jury’s out) comes in. She leads Tony out into the cramped hallway, where two obvious Secret Service agents wait on either side of the door.

“Mechanic’s moving,” one of them says quietly into his wrist.

Tony’s so pleased they’ve chosen that over ‘Superhero’ or ‘Merchant of Death’ that he doesn’t take note of the path across the complex at all.

The security briefing doesn’t run long, which is good, because Tony has to employ every single ounce of acting ability he has not to react with incredulity. He has to repeatedly quash the urge to stand up, throw down the bullshit documentation, and yell that he wants out of the simulation. The problem is, if they really are facing a coordinated biological attack from both foreign and domestic enemies, having a President who seems to have lost his mind in the thick of the response would be absolutely horrific.

Tony crumples the summary briefing page in his hand as he waits in the ‘Bunker Oval’ to speak with Rhodey over a secure connection. The final line on the damned thing is still fucking with him.

The last body has been removed from the White House, so decontamination procedures will be underway by noon.

The landline phone he’s seated beside rings, and Tony lifts the receiver, wishing Nat was in the room to make forbidding faces at him again.

“Hello?”

“Tony! Natasha sent me the keyword, so I’ll skip to that in a minute,” Rhodey says. “But first: how is she, how are you? No one’s sick down there, right? They won’t tell us anything, but D.C. is shut down. Checkpoints to leave, the whole--”

Ordinarily he’d love to hear the difference between what he’d just been told and what’s really happening, but Tony’s on a strict timetable. He interrupts with: “Yeah, I got an update on that just now. I’m set to call the family members of those lost in the White House now that they’ve recovered them all. D.C.’s under quarantine.”

“Seems like a great time to lose all your memory and a shitty time to lead the country!” Rhodey says. Then, his tone sobers. “Tony, for what it’s worth: I’m sorry. What can you remember?”

“I went in for the surgery. I figured if it killed me, it’d be a better look in the obit than the past four months of articles about the Iron Hermit. Woke up the leader of the free world, but… what a world.” He sighs. “My Catholic grandmother would call this purgatory.”

Rhodes whistles under his breath. “You know, right around your wedding to Natasha, we talked about whether you should try to trigger this, set it off and fall in love all over again, so you could schedule it instead of living in fear. You said you didn’t want want to risk losing her.”

Tony realizes belatedly that everything he’s saying is probably being recorded, both in this office and on the line. The resulting sense of responsibility is almost crushing, so he does what he always does when that happens, and sloughs it off. His PR team was great back when he was ‘just’ a billionaire. Now, good PR for him is probably a matter of national security.

“What the hell did Killian do to me, Rhodey?”

“He didn’t. The water did. Some brain-loving organism that went dormant while you were wallowing, right up until the surgery triggered it. Your vitals went haywire. When they got you stabilized, the team decided it was too dangerous to take out the shrapnel. Stress of the surgery, that kind of thing.”

“You’re telling me I never tried to do anything about it? And neither did any of you?”

“We thought you were in the clear!” Rhodes sounds defensive. “Hell, Tony, you ran for President! If that stress wasn’t gonna do it, what would?”

“WWIII, I guess,” Tony says quietly, looking around the room. The recessed lights above two landscape paintings are doing their best window impression alongside the wood paneling, but no shrunken replica of Oval Office furniture in a room with a vaguely curved wall can hide where he really is. “Something inside me wants to reject all of this, Rhodey. They’re saying almost a hundred people are dead, from various locations all around the city!”

“I hear you. Two and a half days in and I’m still in denial,” his friend says. “At least this memory shit got you on the phone. I was worried.”

Tony can’t sit still anymore, but he’s used to JARVIS or a cell phone. It feels very 1990’s teen movie to have to grab the handset to start pacing around.

“You should be here. I don’t know any of these people.”

“I’ve got problems of my own, Tony.”

“What’s more important than supporting your President!” Bitchy and facetious, his favorite way to goad.

“That’s right, you don’t remember. I turned down all of your appointments, so you punished me by making me the Secretary of the Air Force. Gotta run, Mr. President. I’ll see if they’ll let me deliver the briefing tomorrow.”

There’s something alarming about how comfortable Rhodey is with the idea that they’ll still need the bunker by this time the next day, but Tony doesn’t get the chance to object before the man he trusts most in the world hangs up.

He needs to think, and he’d kill for a computer and access to JARVIS right now, so Tony keeps the receiver in his hand so they don’t realize the call is over. Whoever they have babysitting him is too smart for that, though, because there’s a knock before a minute passes.

“Yeah,” he says, already weary.

“Excuse me, Mr. President.” It’s Cora, someone he’s started to dread the sight of for no better reason than she always has an onerous task for him. He nods, and she steps in and closes the door. In a low voice that Tony identifies as discreet, she says, “Sir, I’ve taken the liberty of having the speechwriters come up with some language for the phone calls this afternoon, with the families of the victims? I understand that you are a good public speaker, and you’ve done well with condolences in the past--”

Tony raises his hand and nods, failing in his battle to stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. “I get it. Thank you. Have them copy over the text in those files with something else, something very boring, would you?” He holds his hand out for the folder.

Cora hands it over, brows furrowed.

“Erasing it would be against Presidential records law,” he says, clenching his jaw hard when he opens the folder. The list of names is long. “Writing something else over it is just a reasonable mistake made in a time of crisis.” Tony looks up, forces a charming smile. “You-- we worked with these people. We owe that to their families.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her eyes are wet. “Your next meeting is in seventeen minutes. I can come back two minutes before?”

“Good.” She’s almost through the door before Tony realizes that he needs Natasha to help him with the personal touches the scripts have left room for. “Shit. Find Nat for me, will you?”

The figure at the doorway freezes, and it takes him too long to realize why. He lifts up the folder. “The First Lady. Sorry, these…”

Cora bobs a nod that’s almost a curtsey, and leaves.

His next meeting is awful, all bad news. Lunch isn’t much of a highlight, though they have nailed his smoothies to a degree he’s almost jealous over. Despite his repeated requests to speak with Natasha, the hour he’s scheduled to call fifteen families with Presidential condolences looms without a First Lady in sight.

Finally, when Cora reports that there are twenty three minutes until he’ll be connected with the first family on the list, Tony snatches her cell phone out of her pocket and holds it up so it’ll unlock with her shocked expression.

“Wha--”

He sidesteps her half-hearted attempt to retrieve it, opening up the contacts. Once he finds the one designated First Lady, he taps to call her.

When it connects, Tony speaks up right away, still half-certain this is all some sort of elaborate ruse, an April Fool’s joke funded by the Avengers’ overflow slush fund or something. He knows just how to derail them.

“I resent that there are no kisses scheduled. I feel like they’ve been removed from the schedule, and I demand they be reinstated, starting in…” he looks at his watch, noting that it’s not the prototype he’d been designing with an emergency gauntlet and EMP pulse built-in. He’ll have to look more closely later. “Two minutes.”

With that, Tony ends the call, tossing the phone at a flabbergasted Cora, who nearly drops it. “That’ll be all, Jeeves.”

Tony paces as he waits, having foregone reading most of the platitudes in favor of speaking the names aloud using the special pronunciation cues so he can mark down the ones he's struggling to get right. Even if this is a fever dream, he doesn’t want to fuck with people’s worst memories just because he’s lost a chunk of his own.

The door flies open without preamble, leaving everyone in the desk-filled ante-chamber the chance to see the supposed First Lady of the United States stalk into her husband’s private room, grab him by his ugly yellow tie, and plant a brief but rough kiss on his lips.

“You realize I was on the phone with the Australian PM, right? Coordinating the MOM response?” she demands, letting go of him so she can shove the door shut.

Tony blinks at her. He’d been sure she wouldn’t kiss him at all, but figured if there was some kind of set up, he would at least get to enjoy a ‘dedicated to the bit’ kiss before telling her the gig was up. What Natasha did instead was more confusing, but so was his body’s reaction to it.

No time for that right now, though.

“Marmite Only, Mate?” he guesses, before snagging the folder with the names he needs to ask about.

“Multinational Organizatio--” Nat breaks off, frowning at him. “Right, never mind. What did you need, Cora told me ten minutes.”

“I’d take that as a challenge, but these people don’t seem to want to knock, so…” he dangles. Tony’s fifty percent sure this is all bullshit, and it’s worth it to him to chip away at everything that’s going on, just in case it is. He hands her the folder. “Whether this is real or not, it’s not worth risking giving these families trauma to make a point. Will you help me do this right?”

Nat’s brows furrow for a split second, but she doesn’t look guilty, just surprised. “Of course,” she says, dragging over a chair. Pointing to the Presidential chair of comfy overkill, she adds, “Sit.”

His lips twitching with amusement, Tony settles into the desk chair. Her aggressive affection is endearing enough as it is, but her ability to shift into professional-mode is impressive. Natasha goes over the correct pronunciations with him, adding a mentionable personal detail about each lost staff member as she does so, finishing just in time for the first call.

Though he’s struggling with finding the entire situation credible, the condolence calls are persuasive; these people are more than just names on a list, and the grief in the voices of their families sound so real that he falters in his task once or twice.

Each time, Natasha Roma-- Natasha Stark is right there beside him, silently supporting him in his task by squeezing his hand so hard he’s more worried about broken fingers than broken platitudes.

His schedule is solid right up until 11 PM. Tony gets into the ‘Presidential Suite’ at 11:05 to find Natasha asleep in a fire-haired huddle on ‘her’ side of the bed. Tony had been hoping to speak to her in quiet, hopefully un-recorded whispers, but he opts for a quick shower, instead.

The bathroom is laughably small, and the light in there is strangely dim for being in a bunker without access to natural light. The first thing he does is spend time examining the cage of metal around his arc, but it’s just too dark and cramped to get a good view of the thing. It’s obviously not designed to come off, meaning it's either a weak link in whatever treachery is going on, or there’s some security risk to the glow or resonance it gives off.

Tony supposes that if your world leader action figure comes complete with enough volatile substance for a dirty bomb, that’s probably reason enough to make it hard to access.

He gives up after his third yawn, stripping naked and stepping in. The water gets hot pretty quickly, and the towels are high quality, so that’s something. Tony doesn’t bother to be thorough, enjoying instead the feeling of the hot water and privacy.

When he starts drying off, he sees that his left inner elbow looks strange and feels tender to the fingertip. What’s more, when he drags his fingernails over the area, they come away with flesh-colored gunk underneath.

Tony grips the sink with both hands, suddenly wide awake. He runs the water, grabbing a wad of toilet paper instead of the tan washcloth he’d been given. The first swipe shows a vague peach color, and after he tosses that in the toilet and lathers up the area, the wet TP is smudged with what has to be skin-colored makeup.

On close examination, the area underneath is lightly bruised.

Tony flushes the second wad, his heart pounding. He dresses in a t-shirt and sweatpants, glad for the darkness in the bedroom that hides the part of his arm he's scrubbed raw. They’d put in an IV before administering the anesthetic, of course, but though he lies there in the dark for a long time thinking about it, Tony can’t remember where it had been located.

He decides to continue pushing buttons, but keep his discovery to himself. One thing is certain: he’s in danger, whether it’s from external lies or falsehoods from his own mind.

Next chapter...

((I'll post a chapter a day for 8 days))

#tony stark x natasha romanoff #ironwidow #tony stark fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x tony stark #black widow x iron man #iron man x black widow #tony stark smut #natasha romanoff smut #ironwidow smut #romance #fake relationship #friends to lovers #pining #amnesia #forced proximity

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incorrect-tonynat · 1 year

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nat: fine then!

tony: fine!

nat: fine!

sam, around the corner munching on some trail mix: they’re literally the epitome of love

wanda: and you’re literally so delusional

#tonynat #tony stark x natasha romanoff #tony stark #natasha romanoff #ironwidow #singlehandedly fighting for tonynat rights

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arcanes-fics · 1 year

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Sleeve

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark

SUMMARY: Natasha knows many things. Tony Stark isn't one of them.

WARNINGS: Mentions of canon-typical violence (none actually depicted)

A/N: Part 2 of Through the Years.

Read it on AO3

Natasha's pretty sure she has Tony Stark all figured out. He's compulsive, self-destructive, narcissistic and all around a bad guy to play hero. That's what she tells Fury when he asks for her report and that's what she honestly believes.

Iron Man, however, is a different story. Iron Man carries a nuke through a hole in the sky, saves countless lives, and does it all while not even beginning to think about the consequences of said actions. Iron Man is someone kids can look up to.

She knows this. Since aliens appeared in Manhattan and living legends fought beside and against her there aren't a lot of things she knows. But the world could stop spinning tomorrow and Tony Stark would still be a dick. She's counting on that.

When she jumps out of a building with a bullet in her arm and Iron Man catches her, she expects it. What she doesn't expect is for Tony Stark to step out of his suit and wordlessly rip his sleeve to use as a tourniquet so she doesn't bleed out. But he does it.

There's a flash of worry in his eyes when he sees the state she's in, but he must realize none of the injuries are fatal because in seconds he's back in his suit. The gold face plate and the stiff suit doesn't give away to anything he's feeling, but as the head rotates as he glances around the team once she pictures a similar worried expression.

"Make sure Romanoff doesn't die, yeah? I'm heading home." His tone drips with sarcasm, but somewhere behind it all she knows he cares.

(Tony Stark is Iron Man , she reminds herself).

#ironwidow #iron widow #tonynat #black widow #iron man #tony x natasha #tony stark x natasha romanoff #iron man 2 #marvel fics #marvel fanfiction #rare pair #marvel #mcu #avengers #the avengers #archive of our own #ao3

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quietlyimplode · 2 years

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@thepartyresponsible uploaded the Bad Things Happen Bingo - and then a lovely anon requested a fic with Tony and Nat + Shackled Feet.

Warnings for red room mentions, bad dreams, I’m not sure what else but maybe go with caution. Gif not mine, mistakes are my own.

Clint will know.

He’ll see the red marks, the bruising or scratches on her her body and he’ll know.

But.

Sleep isn’t coming.

And it feels almost distressing in the way her brain keeps thinking, making things up, pushing thoughts into her head.

Natasha knows what’s going to help.

She knows her body and more so; knows her mind; the only way she’s finding sleep tonight is with the cuffs.

She think if it hadn’t been back to back missions with three different changes of time zones, she’d be ok without them, but the jet lag has caught up and she needs it.

The shackles live under the bed in a wooden box lined in red. She’d promised that if she ever used them, she’d tell Clint.

She doesn’t want to.

She could break the promise.

She could lie, and know that what he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him.

But that’s not who she is now.

Despite the embarrassment of needing something extra to sleep, of falling back into bad habits and even worse coping mechanisms, she thinks this is a one time deal.

She won’t need it tomorrow.

Clint gets the message as he boards the plane to Spain. He smiles when he sees it’s from Natasha, and the his stomach drops when he sees the content.

“Just tonight.” It says with a picture of the wooden box.

“Shit,” he swears.

He lets the woman behind him go in front, and tries to call her.

Predictably, she doesn’t pick up.

He doesn’t even know who’s close to her.

“Sir?” The flight attendant calls out. “Sir, you need to board.”

He nods and hands over his boarding pass, his mind quickly running through scenarios.

He’s got ten hours on the plane, if the wifi works he could probably get through to someone to go and check in on her.

It’s not that he has issues with the cuffs. It’s more that he has issues with the why. Why they’re needed.

If she needs to talk to someone, work through whatever is going on in her head. He can’t; he’s about to board a plane.

He sends a message quickly.

“Tony, can you go see Natasha? She’s just got in from Guatemala. I’m just jumping on a flight to Spain. Will be incommunicado for ten hours.”

He hits send as he sits, and sends another message to Natasha.

“Tony might drop by, please open the door. It’s okay you need it, but think of what else you need too ok?”

The flight attendant motions for him to put his phone on flight mode, but it doesn’t matter anyway, the reception is next to zero as he wills the message to send.

Tony hears his phone and ignores it. He just wants to finish this, the energy cell that powers the under flow of his feet for a more accurate landing.

He turns them around and smiles. Now if he could figure out how to make it stop the noise or dull it.

Turning the shoe part of the suit, he dismantles it and grins. He knows exactly what to do.

Natasha sets herself up.

Carefully she straps in, the cuff as tight as she feels is necessary, the leather different somewhat to the metal but she has to admit that it’s safer, it still provides the same calm as it pulls right but none of the risk of the metal.

She’ll never tell Clint he was right though.

Dreams may come but she’s tethered and with it brings the power of ease.

If she had to explain why it works she knows she couldn’t, it’s a physiological pull and she settles in the bed.

Tony groans as he stretches.

He did it.

Glancing at the clock, he laughs at himself as he realises he’s only been down here for six hours. There’s still time for something to eat and then some sleep.

12am is respectable he thinks as he turns his phone back on, annoyed that it was beeping whilst he was trying to concentrate.

The two missed calls from Pepper and then a message from Clint comes through. He opens it and reads it, his stomach dropping.

There’s no context but for him to message and ask, leaves a sour taste in Tony’s mouth.

He grabs his keys, and leaves for Natasha’s apartment, sending a message to Pepper telling her he’ll be home soon.

Natasha dreams.

They are not kind.

The disjointed memories pull at her and she can’t hold onto thoughts. Darkness leads into shadows and the feeling of fear encompasses her body.

The shadows have no faces but she knows what they represent. There’s a foulness that she feels but it’s not deep enough to pull her out of a nightmare.

There’s a banging in her head that she can’t escape.

Get out, she thinks, get out.

Tony knocks trying to be polite as possible.

“Nat? Are you there?” He tries.

The complex is quiet and he’s on the top floor.

He tries again, and waits. No answer.

He knows he shouldn’t but he’s worried now; Clint won’t answer, and Natasha’s not answering her phone, so he does what any sane person would do, he picks the lock.

“Natasha?” He calls, opening the door.

“Nat?” He walks to the back where he assumes her bedroom is, feeling creepy that he’s intruding on her personal space.

He’s almost glad when he sees her.

She looks so tired even in sleep, dark bags under her eyes. Turning on the the light, he apologies, then sits on the bed near her feet, saying her name again.

It’s uncomfortable, and he stands uncovering her legs; just as she wakes to the over bearing light.

He gasps.

She’s shackled by the feet.

There’s a thick cuff around her ankle and a solid chain linking under the bed.

“Nat?”

She’s awake now and moving, producing a key from nowhere and untethering herself.

Alert and dangerous maybe, as he steps back, feeling like he’s crossed a line.

“Clint messaged..” he offers as she doesn’t talk.

“Nat?”

Licking her lips, she glances at him and throws her legs over the side of the bed.

He lowers his body to sit with her but away to the side just in case.

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to think why she would be shackled to the bed.

“I haven’t walking into a sex thing with you and Barton, and that was his way of inviting me to join in, right?”

He does it, he gets a turn up of her lips, almost a smile.

“No,” she says, fatigue on her voice.

“No.”

The cuffs are in her hands as she runs it across the leather.

He thinks she’s trying to work out just how much to tell him.

“Do you want to know?” She checks.

He does. Of course he does.

But he’s not sure if he wants to know at her expense.

“Yes,” he replies honestly. “But not if you don’t want to tell me.”

Natasha nods, a dip of her head.

“It used to be my wrists. When I was young, they’d handcuff us to the beds. Make sure we couldn’t go anywhere. Escape. Make sure no one could remove us from our beds.”

Tony changes his mind. He doesn’t want to know, but the abject curiosity tears at him.

He’s going to be thinking of little Natasha being chain to a bed in his waking thoughts, he thinks, a pervasive thought already.

“When I got out, I still needed it, bad habits and all that.”

She picks up her phone and checks it, opening a message and closing it again.

“He shouldn’t have sent you.”

Tony shrugs.

“He was worried.”

And then quieter.

“I am too, now.”

Natasha stands, moving to the other side of the room to pick up a box.

“It was Clint’s suggestion, that if I needed the cuffs, then I had to tell him, and I agreed, because last time..”

“Last time?” He’s too quick to jump in and she shuts up and looks at him.

“It’s a way of coping and getting sleep,” she finishes.

Tony feels guilty now.

“And I woke you up.”

There’s a pause as she gathers the chain and end and puts it into the box.

“Yeah, you did. I love waking up with someone uncovering me and standing over me.”

She says it with sarcasm, and he gets what she’s saying.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, getting up and standing with her, and then asks, “Will you come back to the tower with me?”

She says no immediately, harshly and he holds his hands up in surrender. Turning away, he glances back to find her tucking two daggers away, one back under her pillow and the other disappears by slight of hand.

It’s only then that he realises that Natasha could have killed him for what he did tonight.

It’s something, he thinks, that she had enough control to recognise him and restrain herself.

He makes for the door, turning one last time; but before he says anything, she cuts him off.

“Tony, you tell no one about what you saw here tonight,” she says opening the door for him, her words harsh and stilted.

“Okay,” he concedes, “if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I walked in on you and Clint…”

“Next time; don’t come.”

He walks out the door and she shuts it behind him.

She almost killed him.

Natasha breathes hard as Tony leaves and thanks whatever deity that she held herself together as she slides down the door.

Opening her phone, she messages Clint.

“I’m fine. Next time, don’t involve Tony.”

She groans and smacks her head against the door.

All she wanted was sleep.

Tony arrives back and greets Pepper with a kiss as she sleeps and has a shower wishing that he could get the image of little Natasha handcuffed to the bed out of his head.

Clint arrives and turns the mobile data back on his phone. He waits for the messages to come through, his stress at whether Natasha is ok, reaching peaks.

Two messages come through.

Tony.

Nat.

He sighs.

Wrong choices.

He messages back and hopes they’ll both forgive him.

Clint arrives home with mud under his nails and sweat dripping down his back.

Natasha opens the door and gives him a kiss and takes his bag.

“How are you?” he asks, taking her in.

“Fine,” she nods.

“How are you?”

“Tired,” he yawns.

“Dinner and bed?”

Natasha pushes pasta over to him and sits with him.

“I’m sorry about the thing with cuffs,” he starts.

She shakes her head.

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

Clint scoffs the food, desperate for a shower and says no more, talking of the mission and uselessness of the beretta.

It’s late when he wanders into the bedroom, sees the scuffs on the post, and knows that after that night, she hadn’t told him again when she’d used the cuffs; trust broken.

Dread seeps into his core and guilt hangs around him.

(Feel free to prompt another one)

#clintasha fanfiction #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #my fic #hawkeye #tony stark x natasha romanoff #clint/nat fic #clint barton x natasha romanoff #bad things happen bingo #tony and natasha

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realangelahernandez · 4 months

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Go to therapy or read another fan fiction of your favorite fictional character?

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romanoffshouse · 6 months

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[Natasha speaking Russian]

Y/N, sighing: Yeah, I know.

Tony: You speak Russian?

Y/N: No. I just know the phrase, "This is all your fault"

Y/N: She says it a lot.

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book-place-incorrect-quotes · 9 months

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Natasha: *before a mission* Who’s turn is it to give a pep talk?

Steve: *sighs* Y/N’s…

Y/N: *stands dramatically on the table* All right, people, let’s fuck shit up out there and not die!

Tony: *wipes away a fake tear* So inspirational

#avengers incorrect quotes #avengers x reader #avengers #mcu #mcu incorrect quotes #mcu x reader #steve rogers x reader platonic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader platonic #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark x reader platonic

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moonvis · 3 months

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IDIOTS IN LOVE

Steve Rogers x F! Reader

incl. Natasha, Wanda, Bucky and Tony

Summary: Being in love with Steve Rogers isn’t easy with all the dates Natasha sets him up with. One day you’ve had enough and ask her to set you up, something you’ve never let her before – and a certain blonde isn’t too pleased.

Warnings: Angst to fluff! Jealous! Steve and Jealous! Reader. Misunderstandings. Two blind idiots in love with each other. 4.3k words.

“Okay, I’m off to bed,” You said through a yawn and got up from the chair you’d been sitting in for the past hours, drinking and chatting with Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha took a sip from her glass, before asking, “See you in the morning for our run?”

“Count me in,” You nodded and walked towards the exit, your head facing Natasha, “Goodnight ladies.” The second you faced away, something tall crashed into you, making you trip on your own feet.

“Woah careful, doll!” A familiar voice said, as a hand grabbed you by your waist to steady you, “Are you okay, angel?”

“Steve! Oh- Thanks!” You felt a bit embarrassed as he was still holding onto you, his blue eyes looking down at you with what seemed like concern. His face was close, so very close, and his lips-

“Steve you’re back!” Natasha cheered from behind you, interrupting the moment, “How was your date?”

You immediately felt your heart drop at her question. Steve had been on a date. Again. You took a step away from the super soldier, looking down as he shifted his attention to Natasha, “It was good.”

You snuck out of the room in the blink of an eye, not wanting to hear about yet another one of Steves ‘good’ dates that never lead to a second one. Couldn’t he just choose one of the girls and make it official? That way you had no reason to hold onto the hope that he just might, someday, reciprocate your feelings.

You didn’t see the disappointment in Steve’s face when you suddenly disappeared out of sight.

You woke up in the morning with a burning headache. Partly because of the wine last night, but mostly because of Steve keeping you awake for hours. You always stayed to hear how his dates went, but it was always the same: “It was good, but there won’t be a second one, I’m afraid. Better luck next time Nat.”

Though what if it was different this time? What if he finally found the one? Your thoughts and feeling of regret were interrupted by a harsh knocking on your bedroom door.You knew it was Natasha and got out of bed. The floor felt extra cold this morning.

“I’ll be down in five!” You yelled trough the door and went to get dressed for your run. After swallowing some painkillers for your headache, you left your room to meet the redhead, desperately in need to get some fresh air.

You and Natasha jogged from the Avengers compound and ended up in the nearest park. As you felt the morning sun warming your skin, you felt a little relief lift off your shoulders. You needed this.

The two of you sat down at a bench, kind of like creeps, observing the civilians enjoying their own morning.

A dolled-up lady was walking her dog, or more like, the dog was walking her. You shared a laugh with Natasha at the sight. Your eyes followed her movements, watching as she passed a little girl blowing soap-bubbles. The little one let her tongue out to taste the bubbles, only for her nose to scrunch up in disgust.

“Cute.” Natasha commented from beside you. You smiled and let your eyes wander along with the bubbles flying away, which popped right next to an older couple holding hands. “Aww, look at them!” You commented.

The husband of the old couple, smacked his lady’s butt, growing a mischievous grin on his face. “Now, that’s cute.” Natasha commented this time.

“I know! Old people are the cutest.”

“I can only partly agree with you there. Buck and Steve are quite the old men,” Natasha laughed, “Wouldn’t call them cute.”

You chuckled lightly as your eyes left the old couple. To you, Steve was so much more than cute. He was the kindest, most caring man you’d ever met. He always listened to your small and bigger problems. He was always willing to drop everything to help you out. He was always by your side whenever you got hurt on a mission. You had no doubt he cared for you, and yet… he still went on all those dates like you weren’t even an option. He made you feel so special and loved, and you weren’t even each other’s. Oh, how lucky the one who wins his heart would be.

“Y/N? Earth to--”

“Oh, sorry!” You snapped out of your thoughts at Natasha trying to get your attention.

She gave you a concerned look as she spoke, “Are you okay? You seem down.”

“It’s just my head, it really hurts.” You excused, wiping away a tear you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m sorry. Should we walk back? We can take it slow.” Natasha asked and got up from the bench, lending you a hand.

You accepted her hand and cracked a small smile, “Thank you kind lady.”

Once you started walking back towards the compound, a familiar figure caught your eye. Steve, with a girl beside him, was walking in your direction.

“Would you look at that! Steve’s on a second date,” Natasha cheered at the sight of Steve and Sharon Carter coming closer, “He said yesterday they wouldn’t go on a date again.”

Natasha was clearly trying to share her excitement with you, but all you felt was a knot tightening in your stomach. You liked Sharon, you really did, but of course she, a Carter, would be the one to finally win Steve’s heart.

Natasha was waving at the pair, just to make sure they saw the two of you. The jealousy in your body didn’t help much with the headache, making you feel sick, “Nat, I’m just gonna go, okay?”

You weren’t in the mood to stand around and wait for Steve to arrive with his new love interest, you didn’t even bother to give Natasha a smile, “You can wait for them if you want. I’d like to have some alone time anyways.”

Natasha wasn’t sure how to react, starting to feel like it wasn’t just a headache bothering you, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.” You left without taking another look back, leaving Natasha to start worry about you.

You didn’t see Steve’s expression go from excitement to concern as he watched you leave Natasha behind.

Back at the compound, you fall down onto your bed, soft sobs rocking your body. You’re tired of loving a man you’ll never have. You have his friendship, but your heart is still not satisfied. Now that Steve has found a beautiful woman like Sharon, maybe you can finally try to move on.

You roll onto your back, looking at the ceiling as your tears dry out. What are you going to do?

Then, it hits you. Natasha.

Just a soft knock on the door and a hug later, the redhead asks what she can do to make you feel better. You let out a sigh and ask away, “Could you help me, maybe… find a date?”

Natasha wasn’t sure she heard you correctly, but when you nodded, her face lit up in excitement, “Of course! It would be my absolute pleasure!” She didn’t even ask why you wanted a date all of a sudden, she was just happy you’d finally give her matchmaking a chance.

“Oh my god! I have so many guys in mind. They would all be so lucky to have you Y/N. I have to pick one worth your time though!”

You chuckled as you listened to Natasha ramble on about who to pick for you, a feeling of excitement growing in your stomach. You were finally ready to give someone new a chance.

As the moon shone through your window, you thought about what tomorrow would bring. Natasha had already picked out a date whom you’d meet tomorrow night.

Busy in thought, you suddenly felt your stomach growl. Slipping out of bed, you put on a pair of slippers and wandered out your door towards the kitchen. Truth be told, you had been avoiding going around the compound in fear of meeting Steve, which also meant skipping dinner.

You fixed yourself a bowl of cereal and let your thoughts wander back to your upcoming date. What dress would you wear? Maybe the blue one? No. What about the white, the one you knew Steve loved so much?

“Hey.”

The sudden sound of a voice made you jump in your seat. As you choked on your cereal, you felt a hand patting your back.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. Are you okay, angel?”

You looked up to find Steve looking down at you. Damnit. You managed to embarrass yourself in front of him again.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Your voice sounded hesitant, your eyes going back to your cereal. You listened as Steve made himself a cup of tea behind you, not a single word shared. You felt awkward.

You hoped he would just make his damn tea and leave - but of course not. The man sat down, right beside you, half facing you as he took a sip.

“So…” Steve began, and you felt yourself wanting to disappear. You were in the mindset of moving on a few minutes ago, but here he sat, the man you were so in love with, alone, giving you all of his attention. “How’re you doing? We haven’t talked much since, well, yesterday.”

Steve’s voice sounded hesitant, and you knew, that he knew, that something was up. The two of you hung out every single day, so not talking for 24 hours was unusual.

“I, uh… I’m okay. I’ve been a bit tired lately, that’s all.” You lied, and you didn’t sound very convincing either.

“Nat told me about your headache earlier today, at the park-”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You interrupted him, a hint of annoyance in your voice. You really didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not think about the sight of Steve walking alongside his new girl.

You hear Steve let out a sigh at your answer. You were hoping he’d let it go, though you knew Steve too well. The blonde put down his cup and turned his body fully towards you this time, “Y/N,” His voice sounded serious, “I know something’s up, more than just a headache, and it worries me. So, please, what is going on? Did I do something?”

You didn’t know you had it in you to be angry with Steve Rogers, but when you felt your blood boil, there was no going back. You jumped out of your chair and looked at him with rage in your eyes, “Why do you care, huh?”

You saw the immediate hurt in Steve’s eyes, his expression shocked at your sudden outburst. You didn’t care though, “It’s been a fucking day, and you’re worried about me because I haven’t talked to you yet? You haven’t even been home! The last time I saw you, quoting Natasha, you were on a second date with Sharon! Shouldn’t you be with her now anyways?”

“Y/N-”

“No! Why the fuck do you sit here and talk to me like I’m the only thing you care about, like it matters how I’m doing? It doesn’t make any sense! You’ve always been like this, yet I’m just a friend sitting around while you go out and fuck all the girls Natasha find for you!” Your breath is heavy, tears threaten to spill from your eyes,

Steve was reaching out a hand to you but retracted it as tears streamed down your cheeks. You pointed a finger at the man, your teeth gritted together as you spoke, “And lastly, I am under no obligation to tell you anything about my feelings! So please, stop treating me like I’m your fucking girlfriend!”

Without taking another look at him, you spun around and left the room. As you disappeared out of sight, you ran down the hallway to escape into your room, not wanting Steve to follow. It was when you shut your bedroom door, you realised what you just did.

You yelled at Steve, for the first time ever. Worst of all, he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. That night, never ending sobs were rocking you to sleep.

As you stormed out of the kitchen, you didn’t see the look of heartbreak in Steve’s eyes. They carried more worry than before, confusion and a load of regret as he started to catch on to what was going on with you. It was all a misunderstanding, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

Getting ready for your date was supposed to be fun and exciting, but after you yelled at Steve last night, nothing seemed to cheer you up.

You regretted every single word you yelled at him. He came to check up on you, but all he got in return was your anger. Though maybe it was for the best, now he had no reason to care about you anymore. You were an asshole. The thought hurt like hell, but you chose to use it as an excuse to ease your feelings.

You dressed up in a white beautiful dress, paired with a pair of white heels. It was Steve’s favourite outfit of yours – he had told you so with words, but his eyes when he looked you, oh, they said so much more. That's were you got the nickname angel from.

It was time to give the outfit a new association, perhaps, the first outfit you wore out with your new potential love interest?

As you walked down the compound hallway to leave, familiar voices came from the kitchen. You knew snooping was wrong, but you couldn’t help listening as it was Steve talking.

“I’ve been a fool Buck,” Steve sighed, “What am I gonna do?”

“It’s all a big misunderstanding, right? Just tell her everything and I’m sure she’ll understand. Y/N always understands.”

“Yeah, tell her I’ve been going on a new date every week for the past year so that I can forget about her?” Steve groaned, “It sounds awful.”

It did sound awful. He really wanted to get rid of you huh? You didn’t understand why but his words hurt. “-so that I can forget about her.”

You sniffled and was ready to sneak past them, not wanting to hear anymore, but of course, both men noticed your presence. Stupid super hearing.

“Y/N?” Steve asked and walked a little closer to where you were standing, “Wow, angel, you look-” Steve gave you the same look as he always did when you dressed up. He looked at you in awe, which you usually loved, but now, you hated it.

“Princess, you look beautiful!” Bucky commented and walked over to kiss the top of your head, “Where are you headed off to?”

“Oh, I-” You looked at Steve, then shifted your attention back to Bucky, giving him a shy smile, “I’m going on a date.”

The words felt relieving to get out in front of Steve. Now he would know not to treat you like a girlfriend, since you were trying to see someone else, right?

“Oh, really?” Bucky sounded surprised, but you ignored it, “Have uh-” You noticed as Bucky gave a quick look at Steve, before plastering on a big smile, “Have a nice one then! Can’t wait to hear about it!”

“Thanks Buck,” You smiled, “I gotta go.”

As you rushed out of the room, you didn’t see Steve clenching his jaw and fists. He was irritated at himself for letting it come to this. The feeling of jealusy made him feel sick.

It was an hour into the date, and you were actually enjoying your time. The guy Natasha had set you up with was an agent you had met before during some mission, Christopher. He was cute and had such golden retriever energy - he made you genuinely smile for the first time that day. Apparently he had been smitten with you for a while now, and to no surprise, Natasha knew.

As time passed by, it was time to head home. Both of you had work in the morning anyways. Cristopher followed you all the way back to the Avengers Compound, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you for giving me a chance Y/N. I had a really wonderful time. Will I see you again?”

Busy with your date, you didn’t see Steve standing nearby, observing the whole thing. He was tense, saddened and growing more and more jealous as he watched you laugh with the other guy.

Steve had come out to get some fresh air, to clear his head, but was interrupted by your arrival. You looked so beautiful, and the sound of your sweet laughter made his knees weak. Oh, how he wished he was the one who caused it.

The morning after your date with Cristopher, you felt the best you had in the last few days. You hummed as you entered the kitchen, the smell of something delicious hitting your nose, “Oh, what’s that smell? It’s amazing.”

“’I made pancakes, so I hope you’re hungry!” Bucky cheered and handed you a plate. You accepted it gladly and sat down at the table next to Natasha and Wanda to your left, and Tony to your right.

“Hey girl, you seem happy. I’m guessing the date was a success?” Natasha asked as she took a bite of her breakfast.

“You finally went on a date with Steve? Rhodes owe me money-” Tony started at the information.

You almost chocked on your first bite of the pancake. Why would he even think that? Didn’t he know Steve was dating Sharon?

“No, Tones, wrong,” Natasha corrected him, “She went with that guy Cristopher. Remember that agent who wouldn’t shut up about her?”

“Oh yeah! The guy who was blabbering about Y/N almost as much as Steve does!”

Steve was blabbering on about you?

“Anyways, tell us how it went? When’s the next date?” Wanda asked, eager to know.

You chuckled a little nervously, “Well, you see--” You stopped talking as soon as Steve entered the kitchen, shocked to see his fallen shoulders and saddened eyes.

You observed as he grabbed a plate of pankakes, before heading over to the counter to make his morning tea. It was weird not hearing a good morning, or getting greeted with his soft smile. You had no idea what was bothering him, and it killed you inside.

"Y/N? You were saying?" Natasha questioned, as you had left them all hanging.

Your eyes didn't leave Steve's figure, even though he was facing away, "It uh... The date was good."

You watched Steve's whole posture tense as you spoke. Oh, how much you wanted to ask if he was okay. You just didn't feel like you had the right to. The last time you spoke, you were yelling at his face.

"Come on! Give us the details!" Tony pushed.

You shook your head, suddenly not wanting to bother Steve with details of your date. You plasteted on a forced smirk, "You'll have to wait and see if we weet again."

"No come on!"

As Steve was facing away, you couldn't see the tears forming in his eyes. You couln't see the absolute heartbreak on his face from the thought of having lost you. He really felt like he had lost the most important person in his life - and you didn't even know he saw you as such.

Over the past few days, you hadn't shared a single word with Steve, and it was starting to drive you crazy. You didn’t even face each other while in the same room - it was a good thing you hadn't shared a mission yet.

All you wanted was for Steve to be happy, and to be his friend again, so with that, you decided it was time to apologize for your behaviour – even if he wouldn’t forgive you for being such an ass, you knew it was the right thing to do.

Your palms felt sweaty, and your mouth all dried out as you stepped outside his room, “Okay… here goes nothing.” You knocked on the door, feeling your heart thump rapidly against your chest.

When he didn’t answer you knocked twice, then again and again. Giving up, you asked Tony’s A.I. for help, “FRIDAY, where’s Steve?”

“In the gym ma’am.”

You let out a sigh, “Is he… okay?”

“From what I can tell, he seems distressed and angry.”

You felt a knot in your stomach. It was 8 pm, and Steve never worked out in the gym that late unless he was upset, “Fuck… Thanks FRIDAY.”

Earlier that day, Steve had been walking past the door to your room at least five times, with the intention to make up. Though the super solider was way too nervous to bother you and chickened out. It was killing him not having your company every day. He missed you. So, with his emotions changing from heartbreak to anger, and the heavy regret from not telling you the truth and let your relationship come to this, he escaped to the gym.

You entered the gym and carefully closed the door behind you. It took you seconds to see Steve by the six destroyed punching bags on the floor, the seventh about to face the same faith.

Steve’s back was tense, and you could see the anger he was feeling in every punch. You felt the knot in your stomach from before tightening, your palms even more sweaty. Taking a deep breath, you walked up to him; it was time to face the music.

Speaking of music, before you knew it your ears were singing a high-pitched tone, your head hurt and your whole back was facing the cold floor beneath you.

“Oh my god!” Steve rushed to your side, worry in his voice, “Are you okay? I’m so sorry Angel!”

You blinked a few times before looking up at the concerned man above you. Putting a hand to your head, you groaned out due to the pain. Releasing deep breath, you let Steve help you up, “I guess I deserved that.”

You had been so smart to come up behind the Captain and stand in front of the punching bag. Because of Steve’s quick and hard punches, he failed to notice you in time, and punced the bag into you, sending you flying to the floor.

“Seriously, are you okay, doll?”

The concern in Steve’s voice made you forget why you came her in the first place. You only nodded and let him lead you to sit down on a bench. He didn’t let go of your hand as you both sat down.

Steve let out a shaky breath. It was clear it had scared him when he saw you flying in the air, and it was all his fault too. You could see the guilt on his face. He still cared so damn much.

You had enough of Steve feeling so down because of you, he didn’t deserve a second of it, “Steve I’m okay. I’m the idiot for creeping up on you like that… Also, I kinda deserved it after how shitty I’ve been treating you.”

“What are you talking about?” There was confusion in the Captain’s eyes.

“Just… let me talk.” Suddenly you had the courage to just get it out. You took hold of both his hands and looked deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m so sorry Steve. I’ve been an absolute asshole towards you.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but closed it as you shook your head, “Let me continue. You’re my best friend and I have so much love for you. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and I was yelling at you for it. Thinking about how good you treat me, your friend, I can only imagine how good you treat Sharon. She’s very lucky and I wish you guys the best.”

Your gaze fell from Steve and down into your lap, “I… I’ve been jealous. With all those dates you’ve been on… Why couldn’t you just pick one the girls and get it over with? I…”

“Cause none of them were you.”

You looked up at him, shock in your eyes, unsure if you heard him correctly. Steve plastered on a small smile, his eyes so soft as he looked into yours, “Y/N, there’s nothing between Sharon and I. The other day, when you saw us at the park, we were walking back from visiting Peggy’s grave. It was only a coincidence we were there at the same time.”

“Oh… but what about your date the day before? You said it was good?” You asked, feeling almost ashamed.

“You left too soon to hear what I told Nat and Wanda. I had a good time, but I wasn’t interested. I’d have way more fun with someone else there with me…” Steve’s voice was low, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, “I can’t hold it back anymore Y/N. I love you; I always have. And those stupid dates?”

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at his confession. Never in a million years would you have thought he loved you back.

Steve chuckled lightly, a hint of sadness in his eyes, “I went on those to get you off my mind. I never belied you could love me back, you’re way too good for me, Angel. Though every damn date I went on, I just couldn’t get you off my mind. Every time they wanted me to come home with them, I only thought; No, I can’t do that to my best girl.”

“Steve…” You felt so stupid for not having confessed your feelings earlier. All this misunderstanding could’ve been avoided, “I love you too. I love you so damn much Stevie.”

Steve breath caught in his throat, not sure he was hearing you clearly, “What?” The word came out weak, like he was scared to wake up from a dream, “What about--”

“Cristopher?” You giggled, “Oh, I had a nice time with him, but you know, he wasn’t you.”

Steve laughed loudly and you joined in. Both of you realised how stupid and blind you had been. You loved each other.

Steve caressed your cheek again, his thumb stroking over your soft skin. The look in his eyes were different than before; you knew it was love. His features, his voice, all soft, “Can I… kiss you?”

You only nodded and let him lead you towards his lips. The kiss was gentle, but a firework erupted inside of you. It made tears fall from your eyes, his too. Pulling away, Steve kissed the top of your head before speaking, “My beautiful, Angel. I can’t believe I finally have you.”

You threw yourself forward and let him wrap his strong arms around you. His embrace felt like home.

It felt so right, and finally, your heart was satisfied.

You didn’t see the tears continue to stream down Steve’s cheeks. You didn’t see the huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. He was so damn in love with you, and he already knew that someday, he wanted to call you his wife.

THE END! Thank you so much for reading, feedback is very much appreciated <3

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #sebastian stan #chris evans #natasha romanoff #tony stark #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #captain america imagine #captain ameirca #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader

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incorrectwandanat · 4 months

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[angry natasha storming down the hallway]

tony: uh oh.

reader: what?

tony: i see an angry wife heading our way.

reader: yours or mine?

tony: does it matter?

reader: if it's yours, there's a chance we'll live, but if it's mine, we're dead.

#natasha romanoff x reader #sfw #marvel incorrect quotes #tony stark #pepper potts #natasha romanoff

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daniraevys · 1 year

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Tony(Wakes up after being rescued by Hulk): PLEASE, TELL ME NOBODY KISSED ME!

Avengers: *avert eyes, looking guiltily*

p.s no they didn't kiss tony, but they were sure thinking about it

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darsynia · 11 months

Text

Present Imperfect | Nat/Tony Masterlist

Written for @endlesstwanted for @tonysbirthdaygala!

Summary: After losing Pepper to Extremis, Tony decides to get the shrapnel (and thus his arc reactor) removed-- but he wakes up as President of the United States.

I'll post a chapter a day starting 5/26 so I don't spam you all with 8 chapters at once!

DAY ONE DAY TWO DAY TWO.WOAH DAY THREE - MORNING DAY THREE - MOURNING DAY FOUR-SHADOWING (A GOOD) DAY FOUR (BEING A HERO) DAY SIXTY-FIVE

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incorrect-tonynat · 2 years

Text

Tony: knock knock

Nat: who’s there, tony?

Tony: when, where.

Nat: when, where, who?

Tony: tomorrow night, my place, you and me

Sam, clicking his tongue: damn, that was smooth. i’m gonna have to use that

#tonynat #tony stark x natasha romanoff #tony stark #natasha romanoff

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rxmqnova · 2 months

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Tony: So, are you two dating now?

Y/N & Natasha: Yes.

Tony: Why?

Y/N: I happen to find Natasha very appealing.

Tony: Yeah, I can understand that. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with Natasha.

#source: incorrect quotes generator #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #tony stark #iron man

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literaryavenger · 2 months

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Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related.

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training.

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch.

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity.

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do.

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked.

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down.

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing.

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo.

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days.

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely.

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life.

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it.

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates.

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me.

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear.

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with.

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?”

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?”

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!”

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again.

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

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