#wcnfbirthdaychallenge

[sunmoonandeddie]

my sweet girl

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 13,561

summary: After WWII, James finds you and rescues you from the rest of the world.

prompt: ‘whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’

warnings: swearing, violence, mental illness

a/n: This was written for @whiskey-cokenfanfic‘s 30th birthday writing challenge!  Happy birthday and I hope you enjoy!

“What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

I don’t move from my perch, my head leaning against the cool glass of the bay window.  The one I always sit in while I wait for him to come home.  The trees are fluttering in the late summer wind, and I can see hints of autumn starting to peek through.

Soon my garden would wither, and I’d have to wait until spring to tend to my beautiful flowers.

I can feel James’s stare from across the room as he sits in his chair.  His throne in his little kingdom.  If he’s the king in this place, then I suppose that would make me the queen. I have my own little throne in the bay window, with all its pillows.  But when he’s home, I prefer to curl up with him in the chair, my legs thrown across his lap and my head tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Sweet girl?”

I turn my head, a little surprised to find his eyes focused on me.  “Yes?”

“You’re thinking awfully hard there,” he says, mirth coloring his words.  He looks so regal in his suit, his hair nicely coiffed.  It’s no wonder that he’s such an important man.  “Talk to me.”

Shaking my head, I look back out the window.  “Just lost in a daydream, I suppose.”

“Must be some daydream,” he says, the book closing with a resounding snap.  His fingers run over his five o’clock shadow as he observes me.

Perhaps he’ll let you help him shave this time.

The brunet leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.  “Now, let’s try this again.  What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

“I…”  It’s the usage of his favorite pet name that gets me.  Because I like being his sweet girl, and sweet girls are honest.  But even so, I’m hesitant.  “James, do think your friends would like me?”

“Why do you ask?”

I shrug, my hands twisting in the soft material of my dress.  The soft cotton feels so nice.  Maybe I’d ask him to pick up more fabric tomorrow.  It’s been a few days since I’ve sewn anything and my hands were starting to get restless again. “I’m just curious.”

“Don’t you know the old saying?”

“What old saying?” I ask, brows furrowing as I sat up straight.  My mind isn’t very sharp anymore and it’s a little frustrating to know that the old me would’ve known what he was talking about immediately.

He’d take the old you to meet his friends.

James rises to his full six feet and my breath catches.  His oxfords are almost silent on the hardwood floor as he saunters over to me.  The way he takes his sweet time is reminiscent of a jungle cat—a tiger, maybe—stalking his prey.  My face always ends up ablaze whenever he does it, the warm spreading from my cheeks all the way down to my toes.  “Curiosity killed the cat, kitten,” he says as he sinks down, one knee on the ground.

A light bulb flickers on in my head.  “But satisfaction brought it right back,” I say, lips stretching into a bright smile.  With my excitement, I momentarily forget about what I was asking. “James, did you hear that?  I told you! I’m getting better every day!”

The smile he grants me sends my heart a flutter, because I know it’s the one he only gave to me.  No other person in the entire universe gets to see that smile.  “Yes, you are, sweet girl.  Yes, you are.”

“But…”  I trail off, getting quiet once again as I remember my question from before.  I am rather surprised that I do.  My mind tends to wander more often than not and I can be so forgetful.  “Why can’t I meet your friends?”  My hands find his, soft digits running over the calloused lines in his skin.  When asking such questions, I’ve learned to be touching him in some way or another.  It soothes him.  “Are you ashamed of me?”

His eyes simmer as he squeezes my hands.  “Of course not.  How could you ever think that?”

“I…  I watch you leave every day for work, and you always tell me all of your stories about your friends,” I say, eyes dropping once again.  If I upset him, I don’t want to be looking into those deep blue eyes.  Seeing him upset just makes me upset and that never goes over well.  “And I just sit here at home.  None of my stories are interesting, and—”

“I find your stories incredibly interesting,” James insists.  The setting sun beaming in through the window sets his face ablaze.  He’s still got his tan from all the time we’ve spent outside this past summer and I do hope that it’ll stay into the winter.  “I always love listening to you, sweet girl.”

“But none of them are any good!”  Despite the fact that I’m verging on whining, I can’t bring myself to care.

“What about the one about the bird that got into the house?  And you had to chase it around with a broom?”  He says, his thumbs gently massaging my hands as they rested in his. “And I love hearing about the books you read.  Like The Little Prince and Gone With the Wind.”

I still find it hard to believe, though it’s becoming easier and easier. But then again, I’d believe anything he said as long as he keeps looking at me like that.  Like I’m something precious.  “Really?”

“You’re an excellent storyteller.  Put all mine to shame,” he says, a soft grin spreading across his face.  “My friends won’t ever be half as interesting as you.”  He presses a gentle kiss to my nose, smirking as I dissolve into giggles.  “I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you more, James,” I say, as all my questions from beforehand are forgotten.

And to be quite frank, I can’t even remember why I asked in the first place.

“—just like this,” James said as he guided my hand. His chest is pressed against my back, his left fingers splayed against my stomach.

It felt good to be touched.  I hadn’t been touched in a nice way in so long, and all of his touches were nice.  Every time he reached out for me, I immediately leaned into it, whereas with anyone else I might’ve flinched away.

I stared at the royal blue stripe of paint that was now on the otherwise white wall of the master bedroom.  “Are you sure you like this color?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I was still a little unsure of where I stood with him, what my role in this house was.  “We can still pick another one if you don’t.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he guided my hand once again, painting another thick stripe of paint on the wall.  “Sweet girl, I told you that I love this color.”  His warm breath tickled my ear.  “And this is your house just as much as it is mine.  You get to decorate it however you want, remember?”

I nodded, a faint smile lifting my face.  “Yes, James.  I remember.”

“So tell me, Y/N.  What does your dream bedroom look like?” He asked as his cheek pressed against mine.  His two day stubble scratched against my soft skin.

Not that I minded.

Any touch from him felt so good.

“There’d be a four-poster bed with a canopy made of white silk.  Like the ones I read about in books.  And there’d be an ottoman at the end of it,” I said, my mind trailing off as I stared at the newly bought paintbrush in my hand.  “All of the wood would be mahogany.  And I’d have a vanity.  There’d be a piano beside a window so I could play while looking out at whatever view there is.  Though I’d prefer a forest.”  I paused, my eyes hazy.  “I always wanted to learn piano, but mama said it was too expensive.”

“What would you play if you had a piano?” James asked, gently bringing me back to reality as he swayed me like a flower in the wind.

“Everything.”

That night, after the room was completely painted and the walls were dry, the furniture back in place, I tossed and turned.  Even with the pile of blankets that covered me, I felt so cold.

So alone.

It felt so strange, trying to fall asleep without being able to hear someone breathing close by.  During the war and after, there’d always been at least several others sleeping in the same room as me.

And though I barely slept, I couldn’t tell James.  He’d already done so much for me and I couldn’t bear to burden him even more with my sleeping troubles.

But I hadn’t slept in two days.

I’d gotten into the habit of just staying awake until I passed out from sheer exhaustion, and yet release wouldn’t come to me tonight.

I stared at the ceiling, taking a deep breath before making up my mind.  I couldn’t keep going on as I was.  Dark circles were starting to form under my eyes and I could see the way James’s eyes would linger.  He could read me like a book and I knew that he could tell something was wrong.

The floor is cold under my feet, sending a chill up my spine as I make my way across the room.  The door opens with a soft creak, and I tiptoed down the hall towards the room James was sleeping in.

For the past two weeks, he’d slept in that room, away from me, and it felt wrong.  It had been years since I’d slept with him close by, and I wanted nothing more than to feel his body heat.

But he was determined to make me both utterly giddy with happiness and miserable at the same time.  He was such a gentleman, always being so proper.  He didn’t do anything more than kiss my hand in the two weeks since I’d come.

It frustrated me to no end.

I hesitated when I raised my fist to knock on his door, suddenly losing my resolve.  What if he was angry with me for waking him?  What if he said no?

You shouldn’t worry him with your issues.

“But he said—”

You don’t want to be more of a burden than you already are.

I stood there for another long moment before turning to head back to my room.  But I’m interrupted by the door swinging open, James’s voice calling out, “Y/N?”

I stopped in my tracks, my shoulders tensing.

“Sweet girl?” He murmured, stepping closer to me.  His fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, turning me to face him.  His hair is mussed, and his words are still slurred with sleep, but his eyes are alert, searching you for answers.  “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, before shaking my head.  “But it’s fine.  I’ll be okay.”

But his grip on my wrist tightened, stopping me in my tracks.  “Hey,” he said as he pulled me back to him.  “Talk to me.”  When I don’t reply, he adds, “I know you haven’t been sleeping since you got here.”

I just stared at the white tank top that covered his chest, mesmerized by the dusting of chest hair peeking over the neckline. Everyone I knew would be so scandalized if they knew that we were standing there in our pajamas.  He wasn’t even in proper sleep clothes, as he lacked the usual button down that would match his silk pants.  It was improper, immoral.

But it was thrilling.

He lit a fire in my heart that I hadn’t felt in such a long time. It absolutely terrified me.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed?” James asked slowly, trying to gauge my reaction.  We weren’t married, and if being this close while in our pajamas was scandalous, sleeping in the same bed was surely a one-way ticket to Hell.

But I nodded.

A fond smile tugged at his lips as he led me into what was technically the guest room.  It was just as bland as the master bedroom, though you knew it was because he’d been waiting to decorate the house until you were there.

I fell into the bed as an angel falls from heaven—knowing that the world would disapprove but not really caring anyway.  I knew if my parents could see me at that moment, they’d disown me just for allowing the only man who could ever understand me to wrap me in his arms and lull me to sleep with sweet nothings whispered into my ear.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed.  Despair bloomed in my gut as my hand splayed against the cold spot that James had been in just the night before.  The curtains were still mostly shut, though I could see that the sun was almost to it’s high point.

It was almost noon.

You never slept in that long.  Hell, you hadn’t slept longer than four hours or so in years.

“—right there.”

I frowned as I heard voices coming from the hall.  There were four or five from what I could tell, but I wouldn’t have any true idea until I poked my head out the door.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, I padded over to the door and cracked it open.  Down the hall, a group of men headed downstairs.  Once I deemed it safe enough, I creeped down towards the stairwell, wondering if I’d be able to find out what exactly they were doing here.

And also—where James was.

I froze as a floorboard creaked under my weight, though I didn’t hear anyone coming in my direction.  I’m almost to the stairs when I glance over at the master bedroom.  Its walls are now the royal blue I spent the day before painting it, but that’s not what catches my attention.

It’s the furniture.

With a final glance towards the stairs, I abandoned my earlier quest and found myself standing in the doorway of my room, completely speechless.  A long the left wall was a vanity.  A mahogany four poster bed was in the center of the room, white silk canopy fluttering in the wind coming from the open window.

And on the right side was a piano.

My mouth fell open in gasp as I stared at the sleek black grand piano that was sitting there like a mirage.  The white and black keys shone in the late morning light.  It was… stunning.

Why would someone break into the house and leave a piano?

“Do you like it?”

I whirled around to find James standing against the doorway.  His face was the picture of calm, but the way his jaw clenched revealed his anxiety.  “You…”  I swallowed as I glanced back at the piano, almost afraid that it would disappear.  “You got me a piano?  Why?”

“Because you wanted one,” he said, as though it were obvious.

Shaking my head, I tried to make sense of his words. “Because…  What?”

He smiled as he gently guided me across the room, his hand falling to my lower back.  The silk of my nightgown felt cool where his hand was.  “I told you that whatever you want, it’s yours.  Last night, you said that you always wanted a piano.”

“But this is too much.  This must’ve cost you a fortune,” I said, but I didn’t fight him as he pulled the bench out for me to sit on.

“Nothing’s too much when it comes to you,” he said.  “I have the rest of the furniture coming later today, and I’ll make sure to get you piano books next time I go into town.” His fingers carded through my hair, untangling it as he watched me run my hands over the keys. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I said after a moment.

James raised his eyebrows, knowing that there was a question on my mind.  “But?”

“Why are you doing all of this for me?”

“What do you mean?”

I turned to look at him fully, peering up at him. “You’re doing all these things for me. Why?”

He chuckled as if it were obvious, sinking down onto the bench beside you.  “Don’t you see?” He asked, brushing my hair back from my face.  “I’m in love with you.”  His eyes flickered to my lips and back.  “And I will spend the rest of my life taking care of you.”

My days are filled with gardening and books, exploring the estate even though I have found every possible nook and cranny, and playing piano.  Lots of piano.  But most days, I find myself baking.  It’s an easy way to past the time and there’s so many recipes in the cookbooks that line the kitchen shelf that I wouldn’t be able to get through all of them in a decade even if I baked every day.  James comes home often to find me covered in flour with lips tasting of sugar.

Singing softly, I make my way to the walk-in pantry.  The walls are lined top-to-bottom with everything you could possibly want.  Except—apparently—for peaches.  “Oh, dear,” I whisper to myself, biting my nails as I search the shelves.  I thought that James had grabbed some the last time he went to the grocer but perhaps not.  He wouldn’t go again until next week unless I ask him, but I want to surprise him tonight.

Well…  Town was only a short walk away.  Perhaps…

“No.”  My hands fist at my sides.  “It’s not safe.  Remember what James said.”

But James will be so happy when he comes home to a freshly baked peach cobbler.

“But he’d be upset that I left.”

Just be back before he comes home.  Town is only a short walk away.

Huffing, I glare at a jar of olives on the shelf in front of me, growing increasingly frustrated with myself.  Arguing with myself was horribly exhausting.  I can be so horribly stubborn.  James says it’s cute most of the time, but I know when I ask questions he can get so frustrated.  “But—”

You’d be back in time for lunch.  He won’t be home until this evening, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.

“Well,” I say, biting my lip as I glance around.  I almost feel like the brunet is going to be around the corner, waiting to pop out and catch me in my act of disobedience.  “He won’t ever know I’ve left.”

The air around me seems to shift at my decision. In James and I’s shared bedroom, I take care to open the bedside drawer without so much as a creak.  After slipping a few coins in the pocket of my dress, I head downstairs.  The front door looms in front of me.  A beast waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

And even though I’ve walked through that door many a times, I know that today is different. Before, I was only going to the front lawn.  I was lying in the cool grass while reading whatever books James picked up for me.

Now, you’re going to town.

“I’m going to town,” I say, butterflies coursing through my stomach.  But with the elation, comes a twinge of fear.

You’ll be home before lunch.

I open the door and carefully step out, taking a deep breath as I look at the path in front of me.  “Just follow the road, Y/N.  Just follow the road.”  With the door shut behind me, I take purposeful steps down the drive.  My heels click steadily on the pavement and a grin takes over my face.  “Follow the yellow brick road,” I sing softly, hands swinging by my side.  “Follow the yellow brick road. Follow, follow, follow, follow. Follow the yellow brick road.”

My voice joins with the birds’ as I make my way to town.  If I close my eyes for just a second, I can imagine that I’m in a blue and white gingham dress with ruby red slippers, a tin man, lion, and scarecrow at my side.

“We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.”

The walk to town only takes about thirty minutes or so, but my feet are already beginning to ache.  I’m not used to walking in my heels on uneven ground.

The closer I get to where the forest ends, the more anxious I get.  As the trees thin out, I find I’m no longer protected from the sun’s harsh rays.  My dress is starting to stick to my skin and it’s not the most comfortable thing.  Buildings are starting to peek through the trees.  Cars are rumbling just up ahead, and it sounds like a monster waiting for me to get closer so it can gobble me up.

Steeling myself, I roll my shoulders back.  “We’re certainly not in Oz anymore,” I say before continuing on.

As I walk down the main road, I find my resolve breaking with each person I pass.  Their stares make me feel like a spectacle even though I am nothing more than a stranger to them.  My hands are beginning to tremble with each step and I hide them in the fold of my dress.

They’re whispering about you.

“Stop it,” I say as my eyes roam the buildings.  My eyes light up as I see  ‘Harrison’s Grocer’ painted in bright red letters across the top of the building just a little more down the road.  “They’re just not used to strangers.”

Maybe it would’ve been better if you had stayed home.

A little bell chimes above the door as I walk in, blushing as everyone in the building turns to me.  I nod at them before moving to stand behind the counter.

“Excuse me.”

I’m a little surprised to find a man standing beside me, his eyes ablaze. “Hello,” I say slowly before turning back to look at the produce that lines the walls.  Even though I made it to town, my goal is to talk to as few people as possible.  I haven’t talked to people other than James for over three years now.

He got you out of that dreadful place and now look at you. Disobeying him.

“You can’t just cut in line,” the man snarls, shocking me enough that I take a step back.  The mean look on his face just makes him look even uglier than he already is, with his beady eyes and receding hairline.  His breath reeks of tuna.

He’d make a very good villain in a story book.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, eyes widening as I look between him and the two people behind the counter.  They seemed to be on the man’s side as they watched me with narrowed eyes.   “I didn’t see you.”

He elbows me out of the way, making a point to stand right where I had been, before continuing on telling the grocer what he needs.

James warned you about people like him.

“Shut up,” I huff, glaring down at the ground.

And he was right.

“Excuse me?” The man in front of me whirls around, his eyes feral.  His face is getting more and more red and the way his hand is raising terrifies me.

He’s always right.

“I-I was just talking to myself!” I say, rushing to calm down the situation.  The other people inside the grocer have gone deathly silent, watching me cower.  “I’m sorry!”

The man sneers before snatching the brown bags from the counter.  The door slams behind him as he storms out, and it’s quiet for a few moments before everyone resumes what they were doing.

“How can I help you, my dear?” The man behind the counter asks.  With his glasses sliding down his nose and his sparkling eyes, he looks very much like what I imagine everyone’s grandfather looks like.  I believe mine did, at one point.

He’s probably just as wicked as the man before.

“I-I just want some peaches,” I say, my voice trembling as I dig out the coins in my pocket.  They cling softly against the counter and I slide them towards him.  “As much as this will buy.”

The middle-aged man’s eyes get as wide as saucers as he looks down at the mess of coins.  “This is…  This is far too much.”

“I just want some peaches,” I say, my throat tightening.  “Please?  I want to make a peach cobbler to surprise my husband.”

He must see my panic, because he nods before taking one singular coin.  “One bushel of peaches.”  The rest are pushed towards me, and I smile as I slide them back into my pocket.

I’m not quite sure how big a bushel is, but my heart stutters as I see the large crate that is placed before me.  It’s overflowing with perfectly ripe peaches.

“Do you need someone to help you?”

“No!”  I swallow, willing my heart to not beat so rapidly.  He seems shocked by my outburst, and I quickly try to cover myself.  “I-I can handle it.”  I have to stand on my tiptoes to grab the large crate, almost dropping it as I pull it off of the counter.  “Thank you!” I call out to the man before pushing my way out of the grocer.

The street is still as lively as ever when I get outside, though I don’t look around as much since I’m too busy trying to carry the peaches.  The wood digs into my delicate hands and I know that I’ll end up having at least a few splinters.

You made a fool of yourself in there with that man.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I murmur, rolling my eyes.  I’m having to take small, decisive steps down the sidewalk.  Sweat is starting to from along my brow and my only reprieve from the summer heat is the cool breeze.  “The grocer was nice, at least.”

But now you have to carry that crate all the way up the hill.

I bite my lip as I look down at the yellow-orange fruits.  “I’ll be fine.  It’s not that long.”

Those men are looking at you.

Frowning, I look up from the peaches and, sure enough, there’s a group of six men staring at me.  They’re standing a little further up the sidewalk, leaning against a brick wall.  They’re covered in dirt and grime and I can smell the cigarettes that hang from their lips from where I’m standing.  My nose turns up at the smell.  The cigarettes are cheap, that much is clear.  They probably got them from the dollar store.

Thank the Lord James doesn’t smoke those.

“That’s because James has class,” I say softly, thinking about the Cuban cigars he loves so much.  “He’d never smoke something so cheap.”

“Where you going, baby?” One of the men calls out to me, and I shrink in on myself.

I know that my husband would never approve of me making myself smaller for other people, but something about those men just screams trouble to me.  If the street wasn’t so busy, I’d cross it in order to avoid them.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Ignore them.

“Don’t ignore us.”

Get home.  Get home and make your peach cobbler, and everything will be alright.

“Like that dress on ya.  Bet I’d like it even better off.”

My skin crawls as I try to walk past them, knuckles white from gripping the crate so hard.  Their raucous laughter reminds me of a darker time.  Of a time that I don’t like to think about.  Ever. I keep my head down, my h/c curls acting as a curtain.

As though you could hide from them.

“I don’t know what to do, Steve,” James says with a soft sigh.  His head is pounding and the summer heat isn’t helping.  The ceiling fans above aren’t making any difference.  “She asked if I was ashamed of her because she hasn’t met my friends.”

His best friend takes a long sip of his scotch, and the brunet’s eyes were drawn to the little drops of condensation that fall down the short glass.  “Maybe she should meet us.”

He sputters, disbelief clear on his face.  “Have you gone mad?”

“It’s not that strange of an idea!”

“She can’t leave the estate.  You know this.”

Steve leans forward, his hands folding together on the table.  “What if we came to the estate? Just Peggy and me.”

Their early lunch has already been finished, plates stacked at the end of the table for the pretty waitress to take.  She’s young, with lovely blue eyes, but not pretty enough to warrant a second look.  They fell silent as she comes around, asking if they want desert before taking the plates and disappearing.

“Come on, Buck,” the blond says, swirling his glass.  “Peg and I can come over for dinner some night.  Y/N can have girl time with someone who knows the situation.”

James’s suit is feeling stuffier and stuffier by the second.  “I just—”

He’s cut off by the sound of shouting outside the window.  Across the street, six men are standing in a circle. They’re clearly construction workers, and he briefly remembers that they’re building a new police station downtown.

His heart stops when he gets a flash of h/c curls.  He knew that hair.

“Hey, that’s—”

James is up and out of the chair before Steve can finish his sentence, bolting for the door.  His own glass of scotch left half-empty on the table.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

I stare down at the peaches as one of the men steps in front of me.  I try to step around him, but the others quickly follow his lead and circle around me, effectively stopping me from moving any further.

You shouldn’t have left home.

“Look at the little debutante, all dressed up and pretty,” one of the men says, yellow teeth bared in a sneer.  “Where you going so fast?”

“H-Home,” I say, jumping as one of them pinches at my elbow.  The others snicker and it seems to encourage him, because he reaches out and pinches me twice more.  With each one, I’m sent back a few more steps until I’m bumping back into the man behind me.  I quickly step away from him, cheeks reddening.  “Pl-Please stop.”

“Aww, come one, baby.”

“We’re just having a little fun, sweetheart.”

One of the men yanks on the crate, and I lurch forward as I attempt to hold onto it.  With one final tug, he manages to pull it from me and I stumble forward.  The wood scrapes my hands and a yelp falls from my lips. It stings worse than the time I got stung by a bee last summer.  I can feel something wet sliding down my fingers and I know without looking that my hands are bleeding.

James is going to know you left.  You won’t be able to hide your hands from him.

I gasp as one of the men yanks at the skirt of my dress.  The others seem to find this new game funny and their hands twist in the pretty soft yellow silk of my skirt.  A ripping sound fills the air and my heart breaks.

There goes your favorite dress.

I let out a cry as one of the men pulls me to him, hands grabbing my ass.  My hands push at him desperately, hot tears streaming down my cheeks.  I hadn’t even realized I had been crying until this moment.  “Let me go!  Let me go!”

“Whatever you want, princess,” he sneers before tossing me to the concrete.

I feel like nothing more than a rag doll as my head bounces off the ground.  My ears ring, my movements lethargic as I try to focus on what’s happening.  There’s a peach lying a few inches away from me, the fruits spilling everywhere after the crate was tossed to the ground.

A scream rips from my throat and I kick out as a rough hand wraps around my ankle, my skirt falling to expose my legs to the men. The man’s grip is so tight that I’m afraid the bone is going to snap like a twig.

“Nice stockings, baby.  Wanna—”

“LET HER GO!”

The oh so familiar voice catches my attention, but I can barely see through my tears.  The hand on my ankle disappears and I hear the men running away.  My body shakes as a warm hand wipes at my tears and I can finally see who’s kneeling beside me.

James.

My heart hammers as I shoot up into a sitting position.  Dizziness overcomes me as I try to scoot backwards, but my husband stops me, hands gripping my shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asks, checking me over.  There’s a sort of desperation lacing his voice.  The man winces as he sees the bloody mess my hands have become, the scrapes along my arms from falling to the ground.  I can already feel bruises forming along my shoulder blades.

My head alone feels like it’s going to explode.

“Sweet girl, look at me,” he says, hands cradling my face.  “Come on, look at me.”  My eyes slowly focus, his features becoming clear.  “There we go.  That’s a good girl.”

Another sob wracks my body as I look at him.  He’s being so kind.  So, so kind despite the fact that I disobeyed him.  I betrayed him and his trust.  “I-I’m sorry, James,” I say, voice cracking.

“Oh, darling,” he says, hands brushing back my hair.  His startling blue eyes are rimmed with tears as he pulls me into his arms. He doesn’t care that we’re currently in broad daylight and people are staring.  

It’s not as though they cared enough to stop those men.

He brings me back as he rocks me carefully back and forth, pressing soft kisses to my hair.  “It’s alright.  I’m here.”

“Y-You’re not angry?”

Of course, he is, you idiot.

“We’ll talk about it later,” James says with a deep sigh.  It’s a sigh that resounds through his bones and makes me feel even more guilty.  All he ever wanted was to protect me, keep me safe, and I just had to go out looking for trouble.  His strong arms move me so that he’s carrying me, cradling me against his chest.

I close my eyes and wish for the rest of the world to go away.  I just want it all to disappear so all that’s left is James and me.  I want us to lock ourselves away in our little castle and never go outside ever again. He shouldn’t have to be around such cruel people.

James takes a moment to talk to someone, but I can’t hear exactly what it is, nor do I care to.  As long as he keeps holding onto me the way he is, he can do whatever he wants, as far as I’m concerned.

My body shivers despite how hot it is.  From where my hand is resting on his chest, I can feel the stickiness of his skin, though it might be the blood from my hands that’s staining the crisp white shirt. “You’re sweating,” I rasp, eyes opening to peer up at him.  “I…  I will run you a bath when we get home.”

“I think you need the bath more than me, sweet girl,” he chuckles, his chest vibrating against my cheek.  He shifts me around so one hand is free, and I feel him open up the door of his car before setting me inside on the passenger seat.  “There we go.”

The leather of the car seats burns my skin as he gets in the driver side and turns the car on, but I don’t dare say anything.  Not when he’s being so kind, so gracious to me.

Others would’ve cast you out by now.

“But he would never,” I murmur, brows furrowing as I stare out the window.  I know that James is listening by the way his fingers grip the steering wheel that much tighter, but he doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of his parking spot and heads for the hill.

But you’re useless.  All you do is sit around all day.

“But I…  I do things.”

Not much.

The rest of the drive up to the estate is completely silent.  My body feels so numb.  I can’t even feel the pain in my hands anymore.

We break through the trees and my breath catches in my throat.  Even though I live in the house and I see it every day, it’s breathtaking.  The white stone is crawling with vines, the windows sparkling in the sun.  The lawn is as green as ever, though there’s a little patch where I always sit that’s been permanently trampled down.

James carries me inside and up the stairs, though I hardly register anything that’s happening.  I know that I’m falling into my head.  I can feel the fuzziness taking over.  My mind feels disconnected from my body, as though I’m a million miles away.

Maybe Spain.

Spain would be rather lovely.  Every book I’ve read that’s set in the country says so.  The Gaudi architecture and the lively colors that make up the gingerbread fairytale. The way the everything blacks out in the afternoon for a mid-day siesta.  The language that sounds like a symphony when it falls from the lips.

Yes, Spain is rather lovely, I decide.

I’m carefully set down, gingerly finding my balance as I stand.  My eyes are hazy, unfocused as I stare at the ground. Someone moves around me to stand at my back, and I feel my shoulders tense.

It’s when I feel fingers tugging at the zipper on my dress that I snap.  A scream rips through the air, and the only reason I know it’s me is because of the sting in my throat.  I jerk forward, desperate to get away from the hands that are grabbing at me.  Trying to defile me.

You need to get out.  Get away.

Hot tears sting my eyes as I bolt for the door. My heels clack against the hardwood floor as I tear down the hall, desperately trying to reach the staircase that I can see up ahead.  Maybe if I got there, I’d have a chance of escape.

“Y/N!  Y/N!”

I can hear someone coming after me, their footsteps pounding as they begin to catch up.  With how heavy their strides are, I can tell that it’s a man.

Another soldier.  Another man determined to take what isn’t his.

I push forward, urging myself to go even faster.  I’m almost to the stairs when my heel catches on a rug, sending me crashing to the ground.  I try to scramble to my feet, but the pain in my ankle is making it rather difficult.

And then I feel him.

Hands grab at my ankles and I let out another bloodcurdling scream, kicking away at my assaulter.

“Y/N!”

The stranger’s weight bears down on me as he crawls up my body.  He so easily holds me in place and even though I’m sobbing, I continue to fight with all of my might.  “Stop!  Stop!” I beg, though I know it will fall on deaf ears.

Invaders never listen.

“Y/N!  STOP!”  Thick thighs straddle my waist, holding me in place as calloused hands grab at my face.  My fists are desperately pounding against a rock-hard chest.  “LOOK AT ME!”

My chest is heaving against the constraints of my dress as I look up at the man above me.  His face is red, his sea blue eyes filled with so much pain.

“Y/N, it’s me.  It’s me,” he says, his hold on me keeping me locked in place.  “It’s me, James.”

James.

James.

Everything clicks into place, my mind suddenly coming back to me.  “James?” I croak, and his face floods with relief.

“I’m here.  I’m right here,” he says.  He leans over me, his forehead pressing to mine.  I can feel his thighs relax as he realizes that I’m back in my right mind.  Our breaths mingle together as both of us try to get our bearings.  “Nobody’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”

“I…  My mind…”  I swallowed, my eyes sore from all the crying I’ve been doing.  “I did it again, didn’t I?  I thought you were—”

A German soldier.

One of the men from town.

“I know,” James says, gently pulling me up so that I’m resting against his chest.  His hand carefully runs over my back, soothing the restless pounding in my heart as I come down from my episode.  Red blood is stained on his shirt, like his heart is blooming outside of his chest.  “Come on,” he murmurs, gently picking me up. “Let’s get you in that bath.”

This time, I allow him to undress me without a peep, the ruined dress falling to the floor like a waterfall.  His fingers are shaking as he carefully unhooks my stockings from my garter, the little black line along the back of my thighs disappearing as he rolls them down my legs.

“James, I think my stockings are ruined,” I say softly, eyeing the runs and rips that litter the nylon now.

The former soldier kisses my thigh and a shiver runs up my spine.  “I will buy you all the stockings you could ever want, sweet girl.”  He nudges me towards the tub.  “Let’s get you in, and I’ll take care of your hands.  Do you want rose, lavender, or pomegranate oil?”  An impish grin spreads across his face.  “Or what about olive oil?  I can go down to the pantry and—”

“No,” I giggle, feeling some of the tension dissipate at his teasing.  “Rose oil, please.”  He steadies me as I step into the porcelain tub, sinking into the hot water.  It’s perfect, as always.

Because he always knows what’s best for you.

James grabs one of the little glass bottles from the vanity, pouring a generous amount into the water.  The sweet fragrance fills my nose as the water soothes my aches and pains from being tossed around like a rag doll.  “Hands.”

I let my hands hang over the edge of the tub, water dripping from my mangled palms onto the tiled floor below.  A white cloth is gently wiped across my hands, staining red as it cleans out the wounds.

He’s going to yell at you whenever he’s done.

“No, he won’t,” I say, huffing a little as I stare down at my hands, watching as he carefully wraps them.  “He wouldn’t.”

“Sweet girl?”

I look up, e/c eyes meeting blue.

James’s face holds such my kindness that it hurts.  “May I be a part of the conversation?”

“It said that you would yell at me,” I admit after a moment’s hesitation.  “And I told it that you won’t.”

And he knows immediately what I mean by ‘it.’  What I call the voice that lives inside my head.  “I won’t yell,” he confirms, brushing a strand of hair from my face.  There’s a sheen of sweat covering my brow from the heat of the bath.  “But I do have questions.”  When my eyes drop, he tsks and tilts my chin up so I have to look him in the eyes.  “Can you please answer them?”  When I give my confirmation, he asks, “Why did you go into town?”

“I…  I wanted to make you a peach cobbler,” I say, cheeks rosy.  “But we were out of peaches. And I-I thought that I’d be okay if I just went and got the peaches and then went home.”  I sniffle, but no tears come.  It would appear that I’ve cried myself out for the day.  “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Is that why there were peaches all over the ground?”

I draw my lower lip in between my teeth.  “I-I stole some of your coins to buy them.  I-I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” James laughs weakly, caressing my cheek.  “My sweet, darling Y/N.  I don’t care about measly coins.  I just want you safe.”  His thumb tugs my lip out from between my teeth.  “And it wasn’t stealing.  What’s mine is yours.  You’re my wife, after all.”

The steam from the bath is filling the room, and James’s hair is starting to stick to his face.  He had gotten rid of his suit jacket at one point, but I can’t remember when.

“I never want to leave here again,” I say, my nimble fingers reaching forward to carefully undo the two top buttons of his white button down.  The little bit of chest hair that peeks out tempts me to keep going, but I know that now is not the time.  “You told me I was safe as long as I stayed here, and I disobeyed you.”

“Sweet girl, I am not your jailer,” he says, taking my hand and turning it over so that the diamond on my left ring finger glints in the light.  “I want to keep you safe, but I am not going to lock you inside our home.”

After my bath, he towels me off and dresses me in one of my silk nightgowns.  Sleep welcomes me heartily, the plush pillows on our bed carrying me away to a dream land.

When I come to hours later, it’s to a delicious smell rising up the stairs.  Languidly stretching, I wince as I feel the soreness in my muscles.  The sun is setting, the late rays dusting the room in gold.

Even though I would be content to stay in bed for the rest of the day, I slide out of bed and creep out of the room.  Some old jazz tune is playing from the kitchen, the notes reaching me as I come down the stairs.

The sight that greets me makes my heart flutter.

James is standing at the stove, humming softly with the radio as he makes dinner.  He’s freshly bathed, in a clean, short sleeve button down that’s tucked into his slacks, his hair back in its perfect coif.

“James?”

His head whips around and a smile spreads over his cheeks.  “How’d you sleep?”

“I…  Uh, fine,” I say, brows furrowing as I step up to the stove.  “What are you doing?”

He looks at me in confusion, glancing between the pots in front of me and then back to me.  “I’m making dinner.”

Now he doesn’t think you’re a good cook.  You truly are useless.

I immediately begin to nudge him out of the way, hands pressing against his chest to urge him backwards.  “I can make it.  You go rest.”

“What?” He shakes his head, hands moving to my hips.  His fingers gently hold onto me, twisting the silk that barely covers my body.  “Y/N, no.  I’m going to make you dinner tonight, okay?  You’ve had a rough day.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’” he says, pointing a finger at me.  There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he nods towards the door on the other side of the kitchen.  “Go look in the pantry.”

Still a little put off and confused, I take tentative steps towards the other room.  When I glance back at James, he motions for me to keep going.  When I open the door, a gasp falls from my lips, my hand reaching up to cover my mouth.

An entire shelf is lined with crates of peaches.

James threw his car in park, slamming the door behind him as he got out.  He was absolutely seething as he made his way up to the front door of the red brick building.  It had taken him hours to get there, and there was no way he was leaving without getting what he wanted.

Or who he wanted.

He’d passed a sign that said ‘Philadelphia State Hospital’ on the way in, and the energy had shifted the moment he did.  The air felt colder.  Like something awful was looming on the horizon.

The building felt more like a prison than anything else as he stormed through the doors.  When he found the front desk, he slammed his hands harshly down on the counter, startling the lone nurse there.

“May I help you?”

“Where’s Y/N L/N?” He demanded, leaning over the desk to glare at her.  He knew that she was less likely to help him with how coarse he was being, but quite frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit.  “I’m here to pick her up.”

The nurse tutted, her perfectly trimmed nails tapping against the counter. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not visiting hours.”  But she dug through the files in the cabinet beside her desk anyway, tugging out a file with the girl’s name on it.  “And it says here that the only people allowed to pick her up are her parents.  And you—”  She raised her eyebrows as she appraised him.  “—are clearly not one of her parents.”

But James didn’t care.  Because right beside her name was a room number.

He bolted towards the hall the sign on the wall directed him to, cursing his restrictive clothing.  Suit be damned, he needed to find his girl.  It took him months to find her and he wasn’t going to let something so trivial keep him away from her any longer.

He can hear the nurse calling after him, heels clicking as she scrambled from out behind her desk.  Two other nurses and a doctor joined her, and it struck him how few workers there are compared to how many patients he’d seen just along that hall.  There are patients that are littering the hospital, making it that much harder for those chasing him.  Some of them turn to look at him, but most stared lifelessly ahead as he ducked and weaved.

It’s more than a little disconcerting.

He finally found the right room and threw open the door without a second thought.  The room he entered was devoid of any color, other than the dirt and grime that coated the formerly stark white walls.  Five cots were along the far wall, so close together that he was shocked there was room to move. It’s cramped, unbearably so.

“James?  Is that you?”

Heart pounding, he let out a sigh of relief as he saw me sitting in a chair by the window to his left.  But at the same time, he felt something inside him break.  I looked horrible.  Like I did back in that cell back in the war.  My eyes were sunken in, my skin sallow.  The shapeless hospital gown did nothing to hide my state.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice cracking.  There was a hazy look in my eyes, and it was clear to him that the doctors had me drugged out of my mind.  “Not that I’m not happy to see you.  You know I am.”

“I’m getting you out of here, sweet girl,” he said.  Without a second thought, he picked me up, not knowing if I was capable of walking on my own or not.  With how sickly I appeared, he wasn’t willing to take the chance.  “I’m taking you home.”

Voices behind us were demanding that he stopped, and it sent a shiver through me.  Those voices belonged to the nurses and doctors that ripped me apart.

They were just as evil as the men across the ocean.

James pushed the door leading to the courtyard open with so much force that it splintered.  Alarms were going off all around us.  Within what felt like seconds, I was resting in the passenger seat of his car and the tires were squealing as he peeled out of the hospital drive.

“Get some rest, Y/N,” James said after we were a safe distance away.  I could tell when he felt we were going to make it by the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his hand reached over and grabbed mine.  “We have a long way to go.”

When he finally got back to his estate, the first thing he did was put me in bed.  He was sure that I hadn’t gotten a proper night of rest in forever, by the way that I didn’t stir.

The second thing he did was call Steve.

The blond got to his house in record time, and James met him at the front steps.  He brought him inside before breaking the news—that he had actually gone through with taking you from the insane asylum.  

“What the hell were you thinking?” His best friend asked as he paced the kitchen.  His hair was mussed from running his fingers through it in agitation, his shirt untucked from his slacks.  “You fucking kidnapped her!”

“I saved her,” James said, hands fisted at his side.

“You’re a government official, Buck! We work at the Pentagon!  You can’t just do illegal shit like that!”

“You didn’t see it in there!”

Steve went silent as he saw just how badly the brunet was shaking.

“I couldn’t leave her there, Steve,” he said, his entire body trembling from pure fury.  “It was disgusting.  There was barely any room to walk, there were so many patients.  And she looks just like she did when you rescued us.  She’s—”  He ran a hand over his face, tears pricking his eyes.  “She was starving.  Covered in bruises.”

The other man took in a deep breath as his own mind went back to when he first met you.

His hands pressed flat against the table.  Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do to wake you up when you were finally getting some well-earned rest.  “I searched for her for months, and—"

“I know—”

“No, you don’t,” James said, cutting him off with a steely gaze.  “You have Peggy.  You had her during the war.  I had to wait for over two years to find her again, and then I had to search for her for months after we got back.  Only to find out that her family stuck her in a fuckin’ insane asylum.  She—”  He shook his head, wiping at his face.  “She didn’t belong there, Steve.”

The other man sighed, looking all of his age in that moment.  Becoming Captain America had aged him, left him a little worn.  “But if you get caught—”

“I won’t,” he insisted, his mind drifting up the stairs to the master bedroom.  “I’m not letting anyone take her from me again.  I’m going to keep her safe if it kills me.”

“Sweet girl, where are you?” I hear James call from inside.

I feel a giddiness in my heart as I shout back, “I’m in the garden!”  My bare feet sink into the soil as I trim the roses ever-so-carefully.  There’s a stack of bright yellow sunflowers and pure white baby’s breath in the basket resting on the ground for the bouquet I’m putting together.

He appears on the back porch, his suit jacket already discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone.  “How are they looking?” He asks as he makes his way over to me.

“Just perfect,” I say with a warm grin, holding out a scarlet rose for him to inspect.  I’ve already trimmed off the thorns, lest one of us pricks ourselves.  “I think it’ll go rather well with the sunflowers and baby’s breath.  Don’t you think?”

“You’ve got a keen eye, you know,” James says, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger.  He then pauses.  “How are you today?”

I glanced over at the rose bush.  “Today’s a good day.”  And it was.  My mind wasn’t as hazy, though it’s still not as great as it once was.  “How was work today?” I ask as I place the roses I’d already trimmed in the basket with the other flowers.  Wiping my hand across my brow, I pick up the basket before heading for the house.  The first thing I see inside is the stack of new library books he picked up for me, his suit jacket thrown haplessly over a chair.

My husband follows after me, as I expected he would, his hands in his pockets.  “It was alright, I suppose. Work was work.”  When I set the basket on the kitchen table, he pulls on my hand to twirl me around, bringing me into him with a soft gasp.  My hands rest on his broad chest as one of his hands tangles in my hair, letting it down from the twist I’d clipped it into.  “I didn’t get my ‘hello’ kiss,” he says as his other hand curves around to the small of my back, bringing me impossibly close.

His nose nudges against mine and I can feel his lips brush against mine.  So close yet so far away.  “I apologize for my oversight. Could you ever forgive me?” I breathe, playing into his little game.  Even after all the years we’ve spent together, he still manages to make my heart race.  I feel like a school girl about to receive her first kiss.

“I suppose I can,” he teases.  “If you pay a price.”

“And what price would that be?”

“Five kisses.”

I bit my lip to try and stop myself from smiling, but it’s useless.  Standing up on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his forehead.  “One.”  To his left cheek.  “Two.”  To his right cheek.  “Three.”  To his nose. “Four.”  And finally, my lips slot against his like puzzle pieces.  Kissing him feels like coming home, like warm hot cocoa on a snowy day. “Five,” I say as I pull away.  “Am I forgiven?”

He grins mischievously, squeezing me closer to him.  “If I say no, will you keep kissing me?”

Laughing, I push him away so I can put the flowers into the empty vase resting on the table.  “What am I going to do with you?”

James watches with soft eyes as I carefully arrange the flowers, content to just be in my presence.

I never thought I would find someone like him. Someone who loves me enough to go against the law, to rescue me from a dreadful existence.  Someone who has patience for me, who understands that I’m trying my best and that sometimes my best isn’t that great.

Even from all of before this, I couldn’t have dreamt up someone as amazing as him in my wildest dreams.

He always says that he’s the lucky one, but I disagree.  I was lucky when he ended up next to me back during the war.  I had been alone for so long.  I can remember crying the first time he spoke to me.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says finally, moving towards where I’ve started to pull out the plates for dinner.  James gently takes the china out of my hands, placing them to the side so my full attention is on him.

“What is it?”  My eyes brighten at the prospect of a surprise.  “Is it more peaches?” I ask, thinking of the crates he had gotten me a few weeks ago.

“No, but I’ll make sure to pick some up when I go to the grocer tomorrow,” he says, grabbing my hips gently. His thumbs rub soft circles into my skin, having slipped under my loose blouse.  “Tell me, sweet girl, how would you feel about two of my close friends coming over for dinner later this week?”

He wants you to meet his friends?

“Your…  Your friends?” I stammer, trying to wrap my head around the concept of other people in this house.  Of spending time with people other than James.  It’d been weeks since the incident in town, and I’ve recovered rather well, but I don’t know.  I’m still apprehensive.

You’re going to mess everything up.

“It would just be Steve and Peggy,” the brunet reassures me, his blue eyes locked with mine.

Being so close to him is like drinking a glass of whiskey.  My entire body feels warm and I feel so relaxed.  Like nothing could ever hurt me ever again.  And I know that it’s his wish to make sure nothing does.  In the days after the incident in town, he doted on me even more so than usual.  He took a few days off work, choosing to stay home and keep me company.  He’d changed the bandages on my hands every few hours, massaged the tension out of my muscles.  There was nothing I went without.

“Still with me, sweet girl?”

I blink, realizing that I’d zoned out while he was talking to me.  “I’m sorry.  What were you saying?”

“You remember Steve and Peggy, right?  From back during the war?” James asks, his voice lowering to a soothing whisper.

I nod hesitantly, trying my best to keep the memories out of my head.  “You tell me lots of stories about them.”

“Well, they would like to have dinner with us,” he says, talking slowly as he gauges my reaction.  “It would just be us four here at home.  They’d be here for only an hour or two.”

“What if…”  I swallow, my eyes falling down to the hardwood floor.  “What if I have an episode?”

James leans his forehead against mine, his hot breath hitting my skin.  “Then they’ll leave and we’ll spend the rest of the night just like any other.”  He pauses. “But they won’t think less of you if you do.  I want you to know that.  They know about what happened and it hasn’t stopped them from wanting to really meet you and get to know you.”  The silence that stretches on afterwards is long and heavy.  Finally, he clears his throat.  “What do you say?”

James threw the door of Steve’s office open, storming in like and looking very much like a hellcat.  He absolutely radiated anger.

“Hello to you, too, Bucky,” the blond said without glancing up from his papers. He looked every bit the general he was. “It’s so nice of you to drop in.”

“Shut up.  I see you for over eight hours a day,” he said, tossing the file down onto his desk.

Steve raised his eyebrows as he finally looked up at the other man, the sky meeting the ocean.  “What the hell is this?”

He just motioned towards the file.  As Steve picked up the file, he grabbed a glass from the minibar that was kept well stocked, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch.  He stared out the window like some kind of Jay Gatsby.  The liquor burned his throat but he didn’t care.

“You found her.”

James nodded, throwing back the rest of his drink in one gulp.  “After eight months of digging, I find her.”  He scoffed as he tried to pretend that his throat wasn’t tightening up, that tears weren’t rimming his eyes.  “And find out her god damn parents locked her away in an insane asylum.”  He whirled around to face him, the hand with the glass pointing towards him.  “She’s not insane.  She’s not.”

Steve stood up, trying to quell his own fury.  “I know she isn’t, Buck.”

“She’s just—”  He ran a hand over his face.

“I know.”

“That god damned war broke her,” James snarled, shaking his head.  “She’s fought that war just like any other soldier, and this is how they treat her?  Like some kind… some kind of animal.”  But through all the anger, there was an overwhelming sense of helplessness.  A feeling that he was determined to squash.  “I’m getting her out of there.”

Steve sighed, his gut telling him that his best friend was about to do something incredibly stupid.  “We’ll find a way to get her out of there, Bucky.”

“No.”

He froze, shaking his head as he tried to comprehend what he just said. “I’m sorry—what do you mean ‘no?’”

“That’ll take too much time,” James said, slamming the empty glass back onto the cart.  He wiped his mouth as he began to head for the still-open door.  “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.  I’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Buck—come on—you can’t just bust her out of there,” Steve laughed, sure that his best friend was pulling his leg.  But when he didn’t laugh, he cleared his throat.  “You can’t be serious.  That’s…  That’s kidnapping.  You’re a fucking lieutenant general, for crying out loud.”

And any other day, James would agree.  After the mess that was World War II, Steve was appointed general, even though he still went by Captain America.  James and the other members of the Howling Commandos were appointed to various ranks for their service.  And he was proud of that.  He took his job seriously.

But this was his girl.

He rolled his shoulders back, fixing his best friend with a steely gaze.  “I’ll be back to work in two days.”

I don’t look up as I hear the door open, scrambling back and forth from setting the table in the dining room and the stove. I have several pots simmering as well as a crown roast with apricot dressing in the oven.  My face is covered with perspiration, but I don’t have time to think about that.

“The house smells wonder—” James broke off as he saw me running around like a chicken without my head.  “Woah, woah, woah—where’s the fire?”

“I have to finish dinner,” I say, shaking him off when he tries to pull me into his arms.  He doesn’t relent, though, and he wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.  And despite the anxiety that’s running through my body, I allow myself to sink back into his embrace.  “James…”

His lips press lingering open-mouthed kisses to my shoulders, trailing up my neck.  “Why are you so worried, sweet girl?”

“I—”

“And don’t say you’re worried about burning dinner.”

“I...”  I drew my bottom lip in between my teeth, my hands clutching at the arm wrapped around my waist like a lifeline.  “What if they don’t like me?”

James hums as he sways me.  “That’s nonsense.  Of course, they will.”

You’re a fucked up mess and they’re going to remind James of that.

I feel as though I’ll fall if not for his arm holding me up.  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

You should be back in that asylum.

He stiffens, his hold around me tightening. “Y/N, I know you’re nervous, but—”

They’ll convince James to send you back.

“They’re gonna think I’m weird,” I interrupt.  My eyes are trained on the white cabinets.  A hot tear trickles down my cheek and I sniffle. “I…  I know that I’m different from other people.  Before my parents sent me to the asylum, I heard people whispering about me everywhere I went.  Saying that it was a shame that such a… a lovely girl like me was touched in the head.  Said I would’ve made a pretty bride.”  I frown down at where his hand is splayed against my stomach, eyeing the golden band that’s on his left ring finger.  It matches the diamond on mine.  “People don’t think I’m smart or that I know what’s happening.  But I…”  I break off, choking back a sob.

He deserves better than you.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmurs as his other arm wraps around me like a vice.  “But you are so smart.  It might take you a while to get to the answer, and sometimes you forget things, but you are so, so smart.  You hear me?  You are the smartest, brightest person I know.”  James kissed my cheek.  “I’ll take care of all this.  You go take a nice long bath and get ready for dinner, okay?”

Two hours later, and I find myself pacing the parlor.  My heels are clicking against the hardwood floor, my fingers wringing in the silk skirt of my dress.

“My sweet girl, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” James muses as he appears in the doorway.  His tie is hanging loose around his neck and I immediately move to him, fingers reaching for the silk.  His mesmerizing blue eyes are roaming over my face as though trying to memorize every bit of me.  “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“What are you trying to butter me up for?” I tease as I deftly fix his tie, like I do every morning without fail.

He smirks, hands finding my hips.  The look in his eyes always makes my knees weak.  “I’m not buttering you up for anything.  Can’t a man tell the love of his life he finds her to be absolutely stunning?”

“I think you’re trying to get lucky later,” I say, tugging on his tie to pull him down into a languid kiss.

“Oh, baby.  I’m not trying to get lucky,” he purrs.  Our lips slot together like puzzle pieces and an innocent kiss quickly turns into something more.  His hands wander, pulling me as close as humanly possible.  It’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin.  “Sweet girl,” he moans against my lips.  “I—”  He’s cut off by a knock on the door.  Groaning, he nudges his nose against mine.  “We should send them away…  Tell them to come back another time.”

“No,” I say, giggling as he pouts his lower lip. “Come on.  Later.”

I stand behind James as he opens the door, revealing a tall blond man that I recognize as Steve and a pretty brunette that I can only assume is Peggy.  The super soldier looks a little older than I remember him.

The two greet James with excited hugs, even though the two men had just seen each other a few hours before.  My fingers fiddle together as I stand there nervously. It’s when their eyes find me half-hidden behind my husband that my breath hitches, my heart caught in my throat.

“Hello, Y/N,” Steve says, speaking softly as he flashes me a warm smile.

I glance up at James, who nudges me forward gently.

“Go on,” he whispers, lips brushing my ear.  “I’m right here with you.”

Licking my lips, I look back up at the blond.  “H-Hi, Steve.  It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you looking so healthy,” he says. He then puts his hand on the woman’s back.  “This is my wife, Peggy.”

She steps forward, holding out her hand for you to shake.  “Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. James and Steve had told me so much about you.”  Her accent lilts her quiet words.

“James told me that… that you were from England,” I said, taking a moment to find my words.  “What part are you from?”

She seems to light up at my willingness to talk. “I’m from Hampstead.”  As James leads the three of you to the dining room, she continues, “I went to school in London, though.  And you?  Where did you go?”

The conversation carries easily through the first thirty minutes of dinner.  We’re all laughing and joking around.  It surprises me how easily I’m able to talk to them, but then again, maybe James was right when he said they would like me.

They just feel bad for you.

“No, they don’t,” I say under my breath, glaring down at my plate.  What I don’t see is the other three all turn to look at me, their conversation quieting.

They’re only putting up with you because James asked them to.

“No.”

They don’t actually like you.

I bite my lip as I grip my fork so tightly my knuckles go white.  “But—”

“Sweet girl?”

I looked up, the spell broken, to see three pairs of eyes focused on me.  I shrink a little under their gazes, under their concern.  “I’m sorry,” I whimper, my cheeks flaming.

James shakes his head as he takes my hand, massaging my soft skin.  He’s turned in his chair so he can face me completely.  “Don’t apologize.  What’s wrong?”

I pause, eyes going to Steve and Peggy, but he gently turns my head back towards him.  “It…  It was saying that they don’t like me.  That they’re only putting up with me for you.”  I shrug as I look down at our joined hands, focusing on his touch.  I’m trying to downplay how I’m feeling, I know.  But I don’t want to ruin tonight.  “That they’ll get you to send me back.”

“Do you want Steve and Peggy to go home?” He asks. After I shake my head, he smiles and presses a soft kiss to my lips.  “You tell me at anytime if you want them to leave, okay?”

Almost an hour later, James shuts the door with a soft click after we say our goodbyes to our two guests.  He turns to look at me as that smile spreads over his face. The precious smile that only I get. “I’m so proud of you,” he say as he sweeps me off my feet, twirling me around the room., leaving me in a fit of giggles.

“Where are we going?” I ask breathlessly as he starts to carry me up the stairs.

“I’m finishing what was so rudely interrupted, my sweet, sweet girl.”

I hummed softly as I leaned my head back against one of the bars of my cage. The cold of the concrete floor seeps into my skin, but I can’t really bring myself to care.  Not when there’s so many other things to worry about.

Like the fact that I hadn’t eaten in over four days.  Hunger pains twisted my stomach every time I moved.  I’m afforded just enough water to survive.  I felt as though I was withering away, ready to die at any second.

And honestly, I wish I would.

But the worst part was the boredom.  The endless, never-ending boredom.  I’d been the only prisoner for what I thought to be about a month, but there was no way to be sure.  The days blended together after the only other person who was in there was taken to the operation room and never returned.  Hell, it’d been

I could only sit and count the cracks in the wall so many times.  My mind was starting to slip away from me. I could feel myself breaking a little more every day.  I could find myself starting to talk to myself.  To a voice that resided inside my head.

“Stars shining bright above you.  Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’  Birds singing in the sycamore tree.  Dream a little dream of me,” I sing under my breath.

“Y’ got a nice voice.”

I let out a scream as I scramble backwards, heart pounding.  By the door of the cell, the lump that I thought was a bunch of blankets began to move.  A soft groan echoed through the room.  “Wh-Who are you?!”

“Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th,” he said as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.  It took a little longer than he probably wanted.  “What’s yours, doll?”

I froze a little, seeing his face for the first time.  Despite all the blood and muck that covered it, he was stunning.  His startling blue eyes drank me in like he hadn’t had water for days.  His brown hair was sticking to his skin from the amount of grease coating it.

Even so, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” I say, my voice hoarse from spending so long without speaking.

“What’s a—”  He grunted, pressing a hand against his abdomen.  “What’s a pretty dame like you doing in a place like this?”

It surprised me, that he was able to flirt with me at a time like this. “Got kidnapped by German soldiers. What else?”

“You’re funny,” The brunet chuckled, though it was weak.  He leaned back against the wall.  “Half my regiment and I were taken.  Don’t know where they are though.”  He looked around the concrete room, at the bars that lined the wall, the tally marks that I’d given up scratching into the wall.  A long forgotten attempt to keep tracks of the days.  “What is this place?”

“People who are in here are… experimented on,” I said, going quiet as my eyes shifted to the door that the operation room lied behind.  I had been dragged to that room kicking and screaming more times than I could count.  “It’s always the same.  They strap us down and stick us with needles.  Put some kind of serum in us.”

“That’s…”  James swallowed as he followed my gaze.  “Horrific, for lack of better terms.”

“It is what it is,” I said before lying down on the ground, my back facing him.  Having another person in my cell was more than a little overwhelming.  Not to mention that I didn’t want to risk getting attached to him, only for him to be dragged away only to never come back.  It was clear enough that I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and he went silent.

Yet no matter how much I tossed and turned, sleep never came.

Three weeks later, and all thoughts of keeping my distance from me had disappeared.  Hell, I’d come to know him better than I knew myself.  It had happened somewhere, in between the two of us individually being dragged into the operation room, only to come back a quivering, incoherent mess.

We leaned against each other, back to back, and I relished in the feeling of another human’s touch.  “How’d you get here?  Why were you taken?” He asked.

“I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Come on, sweet girl,” he said, his fingers intertwining with mine.

I felt a rush of heat at his nickname.  He’d taken to calling me such within a week.  “I was a nurse for the 115th regiment,” I said, my voice shaky.  My nurse’s uniform had been trashed ages ago and I’d been left in whatever scratchy clothing my captors gave me.  “There was a snowstorm, and we were out of matches. Our men were falling sick and there wasn’t anything we could do to help them get better because we had no way to keep them warm.  We barely had enough blankets as it is.”  His thumb rubbed soft circles in the back of my hand.  “So I said that I’d go across the line to the German troops.  We had no reason to think that they’d hurt me.  I’m a woman.  A nurse.”

“You aren’t supposed to hurt women or children in wartime,” James grunted, tensing at the thought of someone hurting me.  “It’s not honorable.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  Honor didn’t exist in war.  Not truly. Only blood and fear.  “When I got there, they took me.  Knocked me out.”  The concrete walls of my prison felt like they were closing in.  “I woke up here months ago.  Almost a year, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pregnant pause.  “If I could get you out of here…”

“I know,” I said, interrupting him.  Something had changed within the last few days.  There was a new energy between us.  Lingering glances, whispered words.  We’d taken to sleeping as close as possible without actually touching.  “But you being here is enough.”  It was useless to try to put into words how alone I had been, how much I had needed human interaction.

That night, when James woke me with his nightmares, I was there.  I immediately jolted awake at his screams. They bounced around the concrete room, fading into soft whimpers when I gently shook him awake.

“James, it’s me,” I said, my fingers carding through his hair.  My heart lurched with every sob that fell from his lips.  I hated that there was nothing I could do except hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he cried into my chest.  His arms wove around my waist, squeezing me tightly.  His tears were soaking my shirt but I paid it no mind.  All that mattered was him.  “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” I murmured, kissing his greasy hair.

James sniffled, his fingers bunching up the fabric covering me.  “Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you sing that song again?”

“Stars shining bright above you.  Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’  Birds singing in the sycamore tree.  Dream a little dream of me,” I sang quietly, closing my eyes.  I could feel him start to slip away once again, his spiked heart rate slowing.  His tears weren’t coming as quickly as before.  “Say nightie night and kiss me.  Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me.  While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.”

Even after he fell asleep, I rocked him back and forth, reminding him over and over, that no matter the evil that was being forced upon us, we were still good.  The darkness inside me tangled with his and I was certain of only one thing in this world.  Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

#whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #wcnfbirthdaychallenge #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic

[my-emotional-self]

Mad (Chris Evans x Reader)

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Angst

Prompt: “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”

A/N: This is part of a writing challenge for @whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday writing challenge!

Chris was gone again, and he wasn’t out filming this time.  No, instead he was out with friends, opting to leave you back at home by yourself.  You knew you shouldn’t get mad, but you just had this feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling you; something or someone.  

Instead you had started to become that girlfriend and you hated every aspect about it.  But you just couldn’t help it; your emotions were all over the place.  You had become clingy with him, hovering, texting and calling every chance you got, waiting for a response from him.

You had been dating Chris for nearly two years now and you had moved in with him just four months ago. But it seemed like ever since you moved in, he was acting just a bit off.  Your biggest fear was that he was cheating on you, and more and more he would go out with his friends, saying he needed some guy time.

Sitting on the couch, you tried your best to pass the time getting lost in a movie, but it wasn’t helping. For the tenth time in five minutes, you had checked your phone, but there were no new messages or missed calls.

Growling, you opened up your text chat with Chris and texting him yet again.  

Y/N: Where are you baby?  I thought you would be home by now

Setting the phone down, your knee began to bounce up and down; your mouth chewing nervously on your lower lip awaiting his response.  

Two minutes, then three had passed and yet nothing.  Opening up your phone, you saw that the text you sent him had been read, but he hadn’t responded.  

Y/N: Really Chris?  Why can’t you respond to me?

Five minutes passed, and yet nothing from Chris.  You were getting frustrated and you didn’t know why.  Chris had never once given you a reason not to trust him, ever.  He was always honest and truthful with you and you didn’t know why all of a sudden you had been acting this way.  

You didn’t want to lose him, yet in the pit of your stomach, you had a feeling that might just happen if you kept on acting this way.  

Looking back through your texts, you had seen that you texted him over ten times already since he left to hang out with his friends.  Groaning, you placed your phone back on the table and sat back on the couch; arms crossed over your chest.  

After another half hour of time passing, you picked your phone back up and decided to call him this time.  The phone began to dial, but after two rings, it went to voicemail.  Ending the call, you looked at your phone, mouth hung open. “He rejected my fucking call! What the hell is going on with him??”

You had called him five times in a row, but each time he just rejected your call and all you heard was his voice for his voicemail.  Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you felt like your relationship was crumbling around you.  

Lying down on the couch, you closed your eyes as the tears spilled down your cheek, hitting the cushion of the couch.  You wrapped the blanket around your body, feeling more lonely than ever as your eyes grew heavy, shutting them and falling asleep.

The front door slammed shut, startling you awake.  Looking at the clock, you saw it was just after midnight.  Sitting up, you checked your phone but saw Chris never responded to any of your texts or calls.  

You heard footsteps and looked up, seeing a seething Chris standing at the edge of the living room; his eyes narrowed and lips in a thin line.  All he did was shake his head at you before turning around and walking down the hallway and into the bedroom.  

Scrambling to your feet, you followed after him.  “What’s wrong with you huh?  Why didn’t you answer any of my texts or calls Chris?”

You found him in the bedroom, stripping off his jeans and pulling on a pair of sleep shorts.  “Are you kidding me right now Y/N?  I told you I was going out for guys night and yet I have to spend most of the night looking at my phone because of all the texts and calls from you!” he roared back.  

“I just wanted to know when you were going to be home!”

“You are not my mother Y/N! I shouldn’t have to tell you when I’m going to be home!  I’ll be home when I’m home!”  His voice got louder with each word that came from his mouth.  

“Well so sorry for wanting to know,” you replied sarcastically.  

Chris just looked at you, throwing his hands in the air and letting them slap down on his thighs.  “I don’t get what your deal is lately Y/N. You’ve been so clingy the last few months and it’s driving me crazy!”

“Driving YOU crazy? Try being in a relationship where your partner doesn’t respond to texts or calls!  Try being in a relationship where you feel like your partner is hiding something from you and always wanting to go hang out with friends without!”

“When have I EVER given you a reason not to trust me?” he yelled back with brows raised.  You looked down to the floor, knowing you didn’t have an answer because truthfully, he had never done anything for you not to trust him.  “That’s what I thought.  I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”

Your eyes snapped up to face up, chin quivering.  “What-what do you mean by that?”

“I just need some time Y/N.”  He grabbed his pillow from the bed and left the room.  You saw him going into the guest bedroom down the hall and closing the door.  Your knees buckled beneath you as you slumped to the floor.  Holding your head in your hands, you cried quietly to yourself, knowing you just ruined this relationship.  

Tag List: @patzammit @brastrangled @miss-cap21 @princess-evans-addict @pumbibaby @kanupps06 @zohoffman @the-real-kellymonster @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @remember-that-one-blog @sincerelyfan @projectxhappiness @joannie95 @libbitinasdeath @guera31 @hispeculiartreasure @ssweet-empowerment @sfreeborn @jjlevin @crushed-pink-petals @badassbaker @sophiealiice @supernatural-girl97 @coffeebooksandfandom @poerebel @esoltis280 @mrs-captain-evans @thisismysecrethappyplace @laochbaineann 

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

[twittytelly]

The Snuggliest of Traps

Steve Rogers X Female Reader

A/N: This is my contribution as part of @whiskey-cokenfanfic 30th Birthday Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Well here's another nice mess you've gotten me into”. Hope you enjoy this and if you're not already following @whiskey-cokenfanfic​ then you should. Also happy birthday sweetie!

Summary: Steve's returned from a mission, but can he avoid the trap that lies in wait for him? Steve’s POV. All of the floof. Inspired by what my bf 'puts up' with.

Warnings: So sweet it'll rot your teeth!

“Well here's another nice mess you've gotten me into” you thought to yourself. You had let your guard own and fallen into Y/N's trap with no means of escape.

It was the early hours of the morning when you returned home after a long mission, so you were not expecting Y/N to be still up. Dumping your bag at the door you couldn't help but race upstairs to catch a glimpse of Y/N after so long.

Peering your head around the door you came across a familiar sight, there Y/N lay starfished across the bed. You were not surprised to see her hair was a mess and the duvet was crumpled by her waist. Y/N was always a fidget, and it was made worse by the fact she didn't sleep so well when you were away. Some people may have been annoyed by this, but you found it endearing; in fact the first time you spent the night together you couldn't hep but watch her enthralled, wondering what she could have been dreaming of.

You couldn't help but beam at her, hoping that she couldn't hear the sound of your heart pounding against your chest. Words could not describe the beauty in her vulnerability and her contentedness. You had travelled across the globe, seen people at their best brought together by a shared purpose; lands barely touched by man and abandoned bases taken over by mother nature; and you had seen life itself thrust into the light and ebb away into the darkness. But this. This would always be the most beautiful site you had ever laid your eyes upon.

So there was no question that you would jump into bed for a few minutes before heading into the en suite. However this would be a grave error. Within seconds she turned over planting her head upon your shoulder and placing her arm around your waist. If you didn't know any better you would think that she was lying in wait, ready to pounce as soon as she felt the mattress dip. But you did know better... in fact you should have known better.

You smirked to yourself as you looked down. Below you Y/N was splayed out across your chest, the light from the hallway illuminating her features. Eyelashes gently grazing her cheeks and lips slightly apart with a slight satisfied smile. After a few minutes the sound was punctuated by her mild snores. You had spent so long starved from her touch that it was easy to ignore the calls of nature, letting her warmth creep across your skin.

You had completely lost track of time when you could no longer ignore your bladder's call to arms. You had been hoping that Y/N would eventually fall into her usual routine and roll back over to her side of the bed; but not tonight. Tonight she was gonna hold on for as long as possible with no view of letting go. Not wanting to risk waking her by moving her you leant into her ear and whispered “Y/N I need to get up, I promise I'll be back as soon as possible. However, this had the opposite effect an Y/N's grip tightened, snuggling into you more.

As predicaments went you had a countless list of worse situations to be in. You tried your best to strategize the best way forward. But soon desperation set in and desperate time called for desperate measures.

You gently reached over to her hand, freeing yourself from her grip, setting your arm by your side. Then you slowly started to slip away from the bed. Luckily Y/N was so far gone that she was not disturbed. You made a break for freedom running to the bathroom as quietly as possible. After relieving yourself you hopped into the shower to freshen up and made your way back into to the bedroom.

Typically Y/N had moved across to her side of he bed with her back to you. You crawled back into bed. Putting your arms around her waist you pulled her into you, a quiet satisfied moan escaping her lips. A smile spread across your face. You places a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

“God I've missed this” you yawned. Y/N responded by snuggling into you more.

“'ove oo.”

You repressed the chuckle that wanted to break free from your lips and kissed her again before letting your sleepiness consume you.

“I love you too Y/N.”

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #Steve Rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction

[regulusirius]

Photographs

Masterlist

Written for @whiskey-cokenfanfic‘s birthday challenge Happy Birthday!!!

plot:  He looked over the picture closest to the edge of her dresser, which was enclosed in a small black frame, the memories rushing back to him.

pairing: steve rogers x female!reader

word count: 1236

warning: mentions of nudity, fluff

prompt: memories warm you up from the inside

He looked over at her; curled up against him, her bare body against his. Her hair spread across the grey sheets behind her. Her eyes shut, eyelashes fluttering every few moments. He held her tighter trying to relish this moment as the two had so few of them these days. He looked around the cluttered room, clothes scattered across the chestnut hardwood floors as evidence of the previous night. Seeing her many pillows across the white fluffy carpet made him smile, she always said a person could not have too many pillows. She nuzzled her head closer into his neck interrupting his thoughts; looking down at her once again, he smiled kissing the top of her head. When his eyes rose up once again he noticed the rising sun shimmering through the white curtains. His eyes focused on what was underneath the large window. A small white dresser, which housed many photos on the top of it. His heart fluttered as he saw the many memories the two have shared over the past years. He looked over the picture closest to the edge of her dresser, which was enclosed in a small black frame, the memories rushing back to him.

 He was wandering the busy streets of D.C trying to gather his bearings in this new city. After the Battle of New York, Fury thought it would be a good idea for him and Natasha to be based in D.C, as that was where S.H.E.I.L.D primary headquarters was, so he could better adapt to this new life. He was not resistant; nothing was holding him down in New York so he went where Fury told him, followed orders like a good soldier. However, when Natasha suggested he take the day to explore a city he had been living in for six months he was not as compliant.

“Nat we’ve been living her for a while I think I know my way around.”

“No you don’t. Most of the time we’ve been based here has been spent out of the country on missions. I’m positive the only parts of D.C you have seen is the route from the Triskelion to your apartment,�� Natasha said adamantly her arms crossed over her chest, “Just take the day, call in sick or something. We have nothing to do but train today.”

“I don’t know…,” he was not convinced on how this was necessary,

“Yes you do. Here’s a map have fun call me if you get lost or anything,” the red head smiled walking off towards her sleek black car speeding away.

So he found himself, wandering the streets ending up in a small park by a lake. He situated himself against a large oak tree across from the glistening and pulled out the map of the city, confused, attempting to figure out where he should go. Lost in his thoughts, it had taken him a few moments to notice the clicking of a camera. He looked up to see her. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail that was swaying along with the breeze and golden sunglasses on the top of her head. The black camera in front of her face was lowered, which revealed her green eyes that sparkled against the sun, as she realized he knew she was taking pictures of him.

“Sorry,” she said quickly nervously giggling, as she has been caught taken pictures of a stranger. “I love taking candid shots and the lighting was perfect,” she rambled on, he quickly noticed the large camera bag she was carrying “I promise I was going to give you them after and ask if was okay,” she smiled.

“Not its fine,” he smiled back at her standing up from the grass, “Would you be able to help actually I’m kind of lost,” he admitted to the stranger.

“Of course it’s the least I could do. Where are you headed,” she asked looking down at his map.

“I’m not entirely sure. My friend told me I should get to know the city, but I’m it entirely sure where to start.”

“Oh I get it. I moved here a few years ago and was constantly lost for a few months,” she took out a black pen grabbing the map from his hands, “If you go towards the reflection pool you can see the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. Walking down this way there’s the MLK and FDR Memorials,” she drew stars on the map on the important places to go to the route on how to go there.

“Thank you, I probably would have sat underneath that tree all day confused if you hadn’t helped me,” he smiled at her then looking at all of the places, she stared on the map.

“I doubt that, but you’re welcome. From there you can probably walk to the air and space museum at the Smithsonian, I think you would like the Captain American exhibit,” she smirked up at him.

“Oh, you know who I am,” he rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed, unsure on what to say.

“Well after New York, almost everyone knows who you are. I didn’t realize it was you until you looked up from the map though,” she admitted biting her lip, “Oh do you want to see the photos,” she lifted the camera that was hanging from her neck, clicking a few buttons until the pictures appeared on the small screen.

“You’re an excellent photographer,” he complimented her, looking down at the photos as she scrolled through them.

“Thanks, I’m actually in school right now for photography, so I hope getting this degree is paying off,” she laughed shutting the camera down, letting it hang from her neck, “Do you have your phone on you, I could text you the photos after I download them.”

He pulled out his phone handing it to her for her to put her phone number, when she gave him the phone back he noticed she put her name in as ‘girl from the park’ making him realize he never got her name.

“My names y/n by the way,” she said as if she could hear his thoughts.

“Steve, but I guess you already knew that,” he smiled, “thanks again,” he began to walk towards the exit of the park before he heard Charlotte call out his name.

“Hey Steve, if you want I could show you around, you know make sure you don’t get lost again,” she bit her lip once again.

“I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“I promise it’s not a bother at all, besides I haven’t gone and seen all the memorials in a while,” she met his blue eyes, making him notice the hope and excitement in hers.

“Well it would be nice to have some company,” he smiled, and she walked towards him, starting a lifetime of adventures.

He looked back at the photo on the dresser from the day that the met, his eyes following the surrounding ones. A smile unable to leave his lips, only growing larger as he felt the body next to him stir.

“What time is it,” he heard her mumble in the sheets.

“Almost seven doll.”

“Do you have to go,” she nuzzled her way closer to him, if that was even possible.

“Nope, go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up,” and he was because he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

#whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #wcnfbirthdaychallenge #Steve Rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff #Avengers #fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #reader insert #steve x reader #sandhyasfam #marvel fanfic #regulusirius

[captsstevengrogers]

The Blind Date

Summary: Blind dates are horrible. Right? 

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday, @whiskey-cokenfanfic! I hope you like it! 

She wasn’t sure why she had agreed to this. When her best friend, Maria, had suggested setting her up on a blind date, she had initially laughed it off. That was a week ago. Somehow she ended up sitting in a restaurant waiting for Maria’s neighbor’s brother to show up.

She knew nothing about the blind date other than the fact that he was wearing a blue button down shirt. Something that his brother had apparently forced him to wear claiming blue was his best color. It was all the information that Maria had supplied her with. She had been even less helpful while she was getting ready for the blind date.

“Can I just cancel? I don’t want to deal with people today,” she had asked Maria while getting ready. “Blind dates are just awkward. All first dates are awkward. And while I love you, I don’t trust your taste in men for me,” she added when Maria had laughed lightly.

“It is way too late to cancel, sweetie. And he is exactly what you said you wanted in a guy. He seems amazing,” Maria argued with a small smile, grabbing the shoes they had laid out for the date. “At least that’s what I’ve been told,” she amended quietly.

“You’ve never even met him, Maria,” said sighed, defeated. Going on a blind date with her best friend’s neighbor’s older brother was not exactly her idea of fun on a normal day. Add in the fact that she had had a terrible week at work and was still only a couple months out of a bad breakup and it was last thing that she wanted to be doing.

“I trust Scott. And you should keep an open mind. It won’t be as bad as you think,” Maria suggested with a shrug.

“It won’t be that bad,” she mocked. “It’s always bad. Men are trash and I don’t want to deal with another one.”

“Look, you need to trust me this one time. And I promise, if you need me, I will be only a text away,” Maria compromised as she moved to leave the apartment. “And I probably wouldn’t lead with ‘men are trash’. Save that for the second date,” she added before closing the door behind her.

She had been sitting at the table, reserved under Maria’s name, for ten minutes when she heard him clear his throat. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Have you been here long?”

“Not really. I --” she stopped, looking up at her date. “You’re Scott’s brother?”

“That’s me. And you must be Scott’s neighbor’s friend? I’m Chris,” he answered with a smile, taking a seat across from her.

“I know who you are,” she responded with a laugh. “I mean, you are a recognizable person. At least now I know why Maria didn’t mention your name, Chris Evans.”

He just laughed and shook his head. “I think Scott is actually the one to blame for that. It’s not the first time that he’s tried to set me up with somebody. Usually being set up with Captain America scares people off.”

“I can’t imagine why. Unless they were really dedicated to Team iron Man. Or they hate America,” she responded with a laugh of her own. “And I promise I am neither of those things.”

“So not really dedicated to Team Iron Man? Just run of the mill dedication then?”

“I do have a soft spot for Iron Man. Especially now with everything from the last movie. But I have always been on Tam Cap. Even got a Captain America tattoo,” she shrugs. “Which probably explains why Maria and Scott didn’t tell me who you are.”

He looked surprised for a moment before collecting himself. “You have a Captain America tattoo? I think that’s a first for me.”

She smiled before showing him the tattoo on her left arm. A small Captain America shield with the words “No, you move--” written above. “It’s my favorite quote from the comics. I was a little hurt that it was given to somebody not named Steve Rogers in the movie, though.”

“So, you’re a Captain America fan. And clearly you know about me,” he said with a small laugh. “What else should I know about you? Pets? Family? Work?”

“One dog, Zeus. I rescued him a few years ago. Yes, I do have pictures of him if you wanted to see them,” she answered, earning a laugh. “Two siblings, one brother and one sister. Parents are divorced. And I am the Director of Marketing for the Museum of Fine Arts,” she listed off. “Other than that, there’s not much to know. I’m kind of boring, at least according to Maria.”

“I doubt that,” Chris responded seriously. “Everybody has their life outside of work. So what do you enjoy to do that Maria might find boring?”

She thinks for a minute, pondering her answer. “I enjoy watching sports. I go to a lot of hockey games with friends. I used to watch a lot of football but I’m a jinx,” she responded earning a smile. “Every time I watch my team, they lose. I just can’t do it anymore. Couldn’t even watch the Super Bowl because of it.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a Rams fan,” Chris said with a shake of his head. “That would ruin things.”

“No, not a Rams fan. Big Patriots fan. Mostly by mistake,” she responded with a small laugh. “My dad is a Giants fan. He told me to root for the men in the red, white, and blue when I was three. During a Patriots-Giants game,” she explained, reading his confused expression.

“Now that isn’t boring. Do you watch all Boston sports now or are your other teams in the New York area?”

The conversation continued for hours, flowing easily between the two until long after they both had finished eating dinner and dessert. It was something that she hadn’t expected but was everything that she had secretly wanted the date to be.

It wasn’t until three hours into the date when she had to stifle a yawn that either of them checked the time. “It’s getting late,” Chris started with a frown. “I probably shouldn’t keep you out too much longer, you have work in the morning.”

“I do have work in the morning,” she responded with a frown of her own. “I should head home and should probably respond to Maria’s thousand messages. But I had a really nice time.”

“Don’t act so surprised. I make excellent company when I’m trying to impress my beautiful date,” Chris complimented, hand raised to his chest in mock offense. She couldn’t help but blush and look away. “Hopefully I can see you again soon.”

-----

It was late the next afternoon when Maria burst her way into her apartment. “I haven’t heard a word from you since I left here before your date. Want to complain to me over dinner?”

“Can’t,” she said with a smile as she bent down to put on her shoes. “I’m going out with Chris again tonight.”

Maria stood there, confused for a moment before breaking into a smile. “What happened to men are trash? Wasn’t that what you said to me a mere 24 hours ago?”

“Maria, I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then,” she said with a smile.

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #happy birthday #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chirs evans x oc #chris evans

[astheskycries]

Look Alike

Written for @whiskey-cokenfanfic‘s writing challenge! My prompt was “Surely, you can’t be serious. -I am serious… and don’t call me Shirley.” I really wanted to explore something fun with this one so I hope everyone enjoys it!

“Surely, you can’t be serious.” Steve says flatly, staring at the team in front of him.

“I am serious…” Johnny Storm smirks, making his way over with that little strut. “And don’t call me Shirley, makes me feel a little uncomfortable in the suit.” He slaps Steve’s shoulder. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a handsome son of a-”

“Don’t finish that thought if you want to keep that hand.” Steve bats his hand away, moving aside. “Sue, a word?”

I raise my eyebrows as he takes Sue and Reed aside, watching them all talk and Steve’s uncomfortable stance. “Wow, you must have really freaked him out.”

Johnny shrugs. “I tend to have that effect on people. Anyway, since we’re alone, I could always show you my-”

I lift my left hand. “Taken. By Cap, actually. But I’m flattered.”

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Man, I knew I liked you.” He nudges me. “So does he know we went to school together?”

I smirk. “Yes, actually. I just don’t think he ever made the connection.”

He smirks. “I can help with that.”

“Johnny.” I say firmly. “Knock it off.”

“Fine, fine,” He raises his hands in defeat. “When’s the wedding?”

“Not sure yet, but I’m sure soon,” I smile. “I really missed you, Johnny.”

My childhood best friend grins. “I missed you too. Hey, since Cap and I look alike, does that mean you liked me back then?”

I roll my eyes. “No. I almost didn’t date him, but he convinced me that he wanted to make it work with his avenging.”

Johnny smiles. “You look happy… I’m happy for you.”

I smile. “Thanks, Johnny.”

He winks. “Thank I can get his autograph?”

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge

[katsens-writing]

Bumpy Night, Part 7

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves one of the Avengers fighting for their life and the others fighting time to save them.

Pairing: A little Bucky x reader maybe?

Content: Loads of angst and whump, illness, and *Captain America voice* language! Please let me know if I need to add anything!

Word Count: About 2.2k (Does not include recap)

A/N: We’re almost done, just one more part after this! This is part 7 of a piece I wrote for a writing challenge. It’s the first thing I wrote for any challenge so it’s interesting. Thank you so much to everyone who has liked, reblogged or commented so far, you guys are all amazing!

---

     “How is--” Tony began, but he stopped mid-sentence, and the color drained from his face the second he saw your clothes. Steve’s eyes widened and Bucky’s lips parted in surprise. You didn’t realize your shirt was completely covered in blood as you took a few faltering steps toward them. Bucky took a hesitant step forward. You saw the worry on his face, and you saw his lips moving, but you didn’t hear anything. You didn’t even notice the pain shooting through your ankle when you took one more step before darkness rushed up and swallowed you as you collapsed to the floor.

---

     Tony’s heart was pounding against his eardrums, drowning out everything else. All he could see was Peter being whisked away on a gurney. He ran through the first set of doors, right behind Cho, Banner and you. When he got to the second set of doors, he felt two pairs of hands lock tightly around his arms, holding him back. He lunged and clawed and fought against them, shouting and yelling but Rhodey and Steve adjusted their grips and hauled him back by the chest and shoulders.

     Bucky quietly watched as Rhodey and Steve pulled Tony back and quickly glanced around before slipping unnoticed past them. He got in there just in time to see Bruce switch the room to private mode. He closed his eyes and cursed silently to himself. He knew that was going to happen, just like he knew he shouldn’t be in there but--

     “Bucky!” Came Steve’s sharp voice, jolting him from his thoughts. Bucky just turned and looked at him. The second Steve saw his eyes, his frustration vanished. “Bucky, there’s nothing we can do,” his voice softened. “We just need to trust the doctors and let them help Peter.”

     Under any other circumstances, Bucky probably would’ve made a crack about trusting doctors, but Steve could see the helplessness in Bucky’s eyes and it made his heart clench. Steve put a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder and was about to say something when the doors opened softly. Steve and Bucky turned as the rest of the Avengers silently walked in, coming to stand side by side.

     Steve hesitated before sighing. “We’ll stand watch. No one goes in the room, got it? No one.” He looked each Avenger in the eye, saving Tony for last. Everyone mumbled or nodded in agreement.

     The minutes slowly ticked by- fifteen, twenty, thirty... Not a word was spoken among them as they waited anxiously. Tony had paced for a while before giving up and just standing in front of the door about ten feet away from it, staring at it unblinking, just praying that it would open. Thirty-five, forty, forty-five... An hour had passed when Bucky looked up from the floor to Tony. He lowered his gaze and closed his eyes tight. He took a deep breath in, stood up, and walked over to Tony. He didn’t know if Tony still blamed him, but he did know Tony was worried about Peter, just like he was. Just as he stopped at Tony’s side, a soft creak shattered the thick silence that hung over the group. Tony’s gaze snapped to the door along with Bucky’s and everyone else’s. The door slowly opened to reveal you standing there, looking dazed.

     “How is--” Tony started, taking a step forward, but the words caught in his throat the second he saw you. Your shirt was covered in blood, stained with various shades of crimson soaking all the way through to your skin. You still held a wad of bloody gauze in your hand and Steve’s eyes widened when he noticed it.

     You took a few steps and Bucky looked at you, worried. They were uneven and he noticed your body shaking. He stepped forward and started to call your name when your legs gave out and you collapsed to the floor. His arms shot out as he lunged forward and caught you before you hit the ground.

     “Y/N? Y/N! Come on, wake up!” Panic crept into his voice as he cradled your neck in the crook of his arm. “Y/N, please, wake up!”

     “BRUCE!” Tony roared, crouching next to Bucky. Bruce opened the door, his face scrunched in annoyance. “Peter will be fine, Tony, but we need to run some tests to be sure! Didn’t--” his words cut off when he saw you sprawled out on the floor in Bucky’s arms.

     “Y/N? Y/N?” he dropped to his knees at your side, shaking your shoulder firmly.

     Dr. Cho walked out to see what the commotion was. Tony noticed and stepped back to make room for her. She knelt down at your side and placed a hand on your forehead. She checked your pulse and turned to Bruce. “Get an IV ready.” Her face softened as she looked down at you and sighed, shaking her head sadly with a dismayed tut.

     “What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, his voice a little unsteady.

     Dr. Cho gave him a small, sad smile, her eyes sympathetic. “We’ll have to check, but this looks like a classic example of exhaustion and burnout,” she looked to the rest of the team and was met with several concerned faces. “She hasn’t eaten or slept in a while, has she?”

     “She slept a few hours early this morning and... she had coffee when she woke up,” Sam replied slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. “But she didn’t eat anything today, or last night...” Sam’s voice trailed off.

     Dr. Cho hummed, her suspicions confirmed by the silence that came to rest over the group. She held your hand, softly stroking the back of it with her thumb and gently brushing your hair back with her other hand on your forehead. She looked up and scanned the faces of all the gathered Avengers and felt a twinge of dismay. They all looked worse for wear, disheveled, beaten and bruised, but she knew trying to convince them to get looked over was a long, exhaustive battle under the best of circumstances. Trying to now would be completely pointless.

     Bruce returned with an IV and Cho slid it into the back of your hand before rising to her feet. “If you’ll follow me, Sergeant Barnes, there’s a room open right next to Peter’s that we can use for her.”

     Bucky slid his arms further under you, making sure to support your head as he rose to his feet and followed Dr. Cho. She led the way to your room, right next door to Peter’s as promised. He laid you down on the bed and stepped back as Dr. Cho and Bruce began checking your blood pressure, heart rate, and other vitals. When they finished, they agreed that you were dehydrated. They gave you a few more IVs and told Bucky they would be back to check on you in a bit. Bucky mumbled his acknowledgment. Bruce lingered in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at Bucky before leaving. Bucky pulled a chair up to the side of your bed and sat down in it with a sigh, shifting around until he settled in. He wasn’t going anywhere.

~

     Peter’s eyelids hesitantly fluttered open and he immediately wished they hadn’t. His head and right arm were throbbing. Every muscle in his body ached, especially his chest. With every breath he took, a new pain rippled through his chest like a wave of prickling needles washing over him and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his ribs. He hissed softly and his back arched a little at the pain as he shut his eyes tight. Once the pain eased up a bit, he braced himself and slowly turned his head, opening his eyes to look around the room. Nausea swept through him and his vision went white from the pain and for a second he thought he was going to black out. He closed his eyes tight again and waited until the nausea subsided. He slowly, cautiously opened his eyes again. As his vision came into focus, he recognized one of the critical care rooms on the medical floor of the tower. He’d been in one of those more times than he cared to count, but only as a visitor or when Mr. Stark or someone was overreacting to an injury of his. He felt a movement at his feet but he was too weak to sit up.

     “Kid?” A cracking, questioning voice broke through the fog surrounding him. It sounded cautious yet so hopeful it almost broke his heart. Hearing it gave Peter the motivation he needed, and he slowly turned toward the voice.

     “Mr. Stark?” he asked weakly, barely audible. His voice was scratchy and he realized his throat was sore and dry.

     “Oh, thank God,” Tony choked, a relieved sob escaping his lips. Peter felt his torso being lifted off the bed and a pair of arms wrapping around him tightly. He lifted his heavy arms with difficulty and placed them around Tony, burying his face in the man’s shoulder. They sat there in a comfortable quiet, just taking in the comfort of each other’s embrace. Peter felt the occasional tremor as Tony’s shoulder shook with each muted sob of relief, and tears welled in his eyes. Tony held Peter tightly to his chest, making a silent vow to never let him go again. After several minutes, he pulled back just enough to look Peter in the eye.

     “May is waiting for you in recovery, but before you can see her, Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner want to run a few tests, ok? You were poisoned on the mission and they want to make sure it’s all out of your system, as well as check for anything else they need to worry about.”

     “Aunt May?” Peter’s eyes widened a little. He was exhausted and his body felt so heavy like it was made out of lead, but at the sound of his aunt’s name, his heart rate jumped. She couldn’t see him like this, she just couldn’t.

     “She already knows, kid,” Tony gave Peter a sympathetic half-smile as he eased the kid back onto his pillow. He understood Peter always wanting to protect May and save her from worrying about him as much as he could, much like he tried to protect Pepper. Peter groaned at Tony’s reply and Tony couldn’t help the smirk that found its way to his lips. Is that what I’m like? He wondered. Peter flinched as he laid back down onto the bed. He hoped Mr. Stark didn’t notice. “Great. What am I gonna tell her?” Peter moaned.

     “All of that can wait,” Tony spoke as he leaned forward, pulling Peter’s blanket up over him. The poor kid probably hadn’t even realized he was shaking. “Rest, Peter.” Tony smiled warmly as he watched Peter gently drift off back to sleep. Once Peter was asleep, he closed his eyes as grateful, relieved tears silently slid down his face.

~

     When Peter woke up again, Tony was still at his side. Peter sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes.

     “Hey, how you feeling?” Tony asked as he stood. He could already tell by how Peter was moving that he was doing much better. The tension in his own shoulders eased the slightest bit.

     “Th’ pain isn’t so bad,” Peter mumbled, scrunching his face. “Everythin’ looks a lil’ blurry though.”

     “Good, that means the meds are working. Come on, let’s get you to the docs.” Tony grunted a little as he helped Peter to his feet. “Easy,” he soothed tenderly. “There you go. Nice and steady.” He guided Peter out the door and to the right where they were joined by several of Dr. Cho’s assistants who had come to take Peter to another room to prepare him for testing. Peter blinked his eyes several times to clear his vision, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lighting of the medical floor.

     “Who... who’s that?” Peter looked over his shoulder as they passed the room next to his. He saw the outline of a figure lying in the bed.

     “Don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” one of the assistants assured him, but he kept looking back at the room. “W-wait... is- is that Miss Y/L/N? What...” Peter stopped and turned to Tony, his face creased with concern. “Wh- what happened to her?” he pulled away from the assistants and slipped out of Tony’s arm. He was turning to walk back to your room when Tony stopped him, grabbing him softly by the shoulders.

     “Hold on, kid. Agent Y/L/N got sick on the mission,” Tony told Peter gently.

     “Sick? Did she... she didn’t...” Peter’s voice trembled and fear began to fill his eyes. “Is- is she gonna be ok?” Peter finally asked and Tony’s heart broke at the look on the kid’s face.

     “She’s going to be fine. She’s got the best looking after her,” Tony assured him, but that didn’t ease Peter’s worry any. Tony gripped Peter’s shoulders a little more firmly.

     “Look, I know you’re worried, but you’ve just been through hell, and the docs need to check you over to make sure you’re in the clear, ok? What do you think Agent Y/L/N would say if...” Tony stopped for a second as he realized what he was saying. “If... if she woke up, and found you in the bed next to hers because you relapsed? How do you think that would make her feel?” he continued.

     Especially since she’s there because she wouldn’t leave your side, he thought, a distant look in his eyes. Damn it, Y/N! Why couldn’t you take your own advice?

     Peter lowered his gaze guiltily. “Ok,” he mumbled reluctantly. He lifted his moist eyes to meet Tony’s hopefully and Tony’s heart ached for him. “But can I come back and see her when I’m done?”

     “Of course kid,” he smiled warmly, touched by the kid’s concern. He pulled Peter to him and hugged him tenderly. He felt a pang in his chest as his misty eyes came to rest on your motionless form lying in the bed. “Of course.”

---

LAST PART   SERIES MASTERLIST   NEXT PART

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[clarinette07]

More Than Anything Else in the World

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge

#whiskey-cokenfanficbirthdaychallenge

Quote Challenge #24: “You should eat a waffle! You can’t be sad if you eat a waffle”

Summary: Reader is part of the SHIELD team that works closely with the Avengers. After a long mission, she comes home to quietly celebrate her birthday with her special family recipe only to be joined by the surly Winter Soldier. Little do they know they both will learn something new during their time shared together that will change their lives for the better. 

A/N Thanks to my wonderful Beta @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog for always giving such wonderful feedback and helping me brainstorm in a new universe & Happy Birthday to my birthday twin @whiskey-cokenfanfic, hope you enjoy this fic, Love! 

This mission had been a long one. Three and a half weeks away for a surveillance op that was supposed to only be a week-long, TOPS! (Great intel, Sam!) Now she could finally sit and enjoy her annual indulgence: Birthday Waffles! (Not that anyone knew they were birthday waffles. To everyone else, it was just another plate of yummy waffles.) Walking into the kitchen, she begins to gather all the necessary supplies when he walks in. Mr. Doom and Gloom himself - the Winter Soldier, grumpy as always, but that wasn't going to keep Y/N down. No, Sir! What some saw as an excuse to leave the room when he walked in, she saw it as a challenge. What positive reaction can I get from him today? She'd ask herself. If it was a smile, she'd take it. A multi-word answer, Score! Anything more than a silent look then walking away, she would consider a win.

So with that in mind, today's attempt would involve including the one person everyone considered cold and distant to join her in the activity that brought her the most warmth and joy in her heart.

"Hey, Buck, you hungry?"

"Hey, Y/N. Whatcha cookin' up today?"

Bucky, the once lively, extravert that was the life of the party and envy of all men and women alike had changed a lot over the years. Y/N remembered the stories that Cap would share about his best friend from Brooklyn and it broke her heart to see the shell of the former Hydra Winter Soldier. It wasn't until she noticed he would linger quietly in the kitchen when she would be making a pie or something for the team for dinner that reminded him of the old-time family-style meals that he started to open up to her.

Breakfast was one of those special times for them. When everyone else was sleeping in after a rough mission, Y/N just wanted to be in the kitchen and Bucky secretly just wanted to be near Y/N. He may not have talked about it much, but she brought a sense of calm to him that he never thought would be possible again after what Hydra did to him. There was just something about her homey, welcoming nature that brought him back to the '40s and allowed him to feel more at home in Stark Tower.

Here was her chance! Maybe he'll want to help me today, not just eat and run away?

"Waffles! Would you like to help me?"

This could all go south in an instant, but Y/N had to take a chance. It was her birthday wish, after all, to try and grow closer to the handsome Winter Soldier, and everyone knows the way to any man is through his stomach.

"Uhhh, Sure, I guess I could try and help," he nervously responded.

"Great! You're gonna love 'em! They're a family recipe."

As she finished gathering the necessary supplies and got him to measure the ingredients, she prepared the toppings. Fresh cut strawberries, chocolate sauce, and homemade whipped cream. YUM!!! When the last waffle was poured into the machine, they got their plates prepared to eat. Y/N was giddy with anticipation while Bucky just looked at her with wonder. Finally, after a long debate in his mind, he finally asked the question that has been plaguing him for a while.

"Why are you always so happy? Even after crappy missions, you're still happy and cooking all this great food. How do you do it?

Y/N was a bit taken back by his question, but she did want to grow closer and he couldn't have set her up with a better circumstance with which to do so. Taking a deep breath, she thought to herself, Well, here goes nothing!

"Well, Bucky, that's a really interesting and deep question. I'm not entirely sure how to answer it, but I'll try my best to." She said with a shy and bashful smile. "I've always been a happy child for the most part, and when anything would go wrong, my mother would always tell me that it was for a reason. Whether it was to keep us safe or end up blessing us in the long run, I just learned to look at life as if it were a glass half-filled, because it can get rather depressing if I start to let everything get to me and weigh me down. Like this latest mission. It was terrible, and even though it took much longer than I hoped, I can still eat my birthday waffles and remember the good times, no matter what the day. My mother used to sit me down when I was having a bad day and tell me, 'You should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle!' And you know what? She was right! I've never been able to stay down while eating a yummy, delicious waffle." She says with a smile lined with whipped cream.

Bucky took in all that she said, but then one detail hit him like a bolt of lightning from Thor's hammer.

"Wait? Did you say birthday? When was your birthday??? Why did no one say anything about it? Tony never misses an opportunity to celebrate and throw a party."

Ducking her head down with a blush, "It was on Tuesday, July 23rd", she explains how she had her files sealed so that no one, not even SHIELD, could access the birthdate, just the year she was born. Since her family's tragic passing, she never felt the same celebrating it without her loved ones around, but over time she healed little by little and was able to make the special waffles again without crying, only the good memories remained.

Well, if he didn't love her before, hearing this just made his heart swell for her even more. He vowed from this day forward to never let her go through another rough mission or birthday alone again.

"Well, Dollface, Happy Birthday. I hope all your wishes come true."

"Thanks, Bucky, that means a lot to me."

From this moment on, Bucky's cold demeanor had thawed around Y/N and over time, her wish did come true. They grew closer and eventually started courting. Some old habits die hard, but it was one attribute that Y/N welcomed. It was so flattering to be asked to be courted by Mr. Barnes and before they knew it, another year had passed between their times cooking together, going on missions with the team, and then finding time to go on dates. One morning Y/N is woken up by the smell of something absolutely delicious and she wakes to find Bucky at the foot of her bed with a tray in hand filled with her birthday waffles and a candle on top that reads "Birthday Girl". Bucky quickly places the try down and wipes a stray tear from Y/N's face that had slipped without her knowing.

"Oh, Dollface, you should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle" he says with a charming smirk and a wink. Throwing her arms around his neck she whispers

"Thank you, Buck. I love how you make me feel so special and loved."

"Because you ARE special and Loved, Doll. More than anything else in the world."

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge

[vampirethatcarlislegotbittenby]

Lost and Found

Evans was the first one to introduce me to the equal wonders and horrors of what the internet contained. From weird social media posts and blog posts to stupidly long and weirdly detailed stories attached to recipes, as a team, we found so many stupid things to laugh at together. Being a poorer kid, I hadn’t had much connection with the internet before the early two thousands – but it didn’t matter that sometimes, I fucked up and searched the wrong things, causing many… less savoury sites to pop up sometimes, all full of ads and spammy links. Not that Chris cared, of course. He hadn’t cared about any of the times that I’d messed up, or knocked things over, causing priceless objects like his families entire china set to knock over when were kids, or sent in the wrong essay for one of his college applications. He hadn’t cared, and somehow had ignored or missed all my faults. So many memories, heartbreaks and stress, all throughout our childhood, high school, college and now, our careers and professional lives. So many times and so many memories… but now, we seemed to be drifting. I mean, I understood – I was some broke anthropologist, new to her field and he was a successful actor, starting to get bigger and better roles. Chris was always in my line of vision, my thoughts – how could he not be? He was my best friend, my most trusted confidante. Our whole relationship followed the exact cliché of the stereotypical drifting ‘high-school besties’ trying to keep in contact and remain close after the environment and whole drama of school, relationships and early adulthood. Chris noticed a lot of things throughout our friendship about me. The way I flicked my hair, or only really grinned at twisted jokes. Stupid, I know, to hold onto all the minor things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of life, and work but how could I not, when my heart so belonged to him. The only thing Chris didn’t notice throughout our early friendship was the fact that I loved him. I mean, I never had anybody but him, but he had so many other girlfriends and other surrounding friends. I was too awkward to really fit in with others, before I lost him, so I kept track of us, our friendship. Yeah, I knew others I was semi-friends with, but it wasn’t as if I was invited to anything of theirs outside of school.He never noticed that fact. Saying goodbye to our closeness, our friendship… it was, for the lack of a better word, heartbreaking.

Unsurprisingly, our totally different career paths caused Chris and I to drift. Not in a bad way, we just… stopped talking as much. I studied old bones and the structure of ancient societies, and he acted our false personas and scripts for a living. Anniversaries forgotten, birthdays left behind… the distance between us just grew and grew for so many weeks and months that eventually, I forgot his voice and the small quirks he had, and the silly rituals we would perform, like the tic at the side of his mouth that he had whenever he got excited or happy about an event or job or something like that, or the way we would  dance and yell and celebrate together whenever it rained, no matter how long it was for. I forgot about those moments, those small things about us, and him, and I because of our stupid schedules and inability to communicate. And God, I regretted it so much. We’d promised each other, at our universities graduation that we’d keep in contact. We’ll keep in contact, we’d promised. Well, that hadn’t ended up happening, had it? I mean, looking back on the situation, it’s obvious – we could hardly catch up in person after graduation due to our respective hectic schedules and jobs. It’s a bit hard to keep in contact and stay friends when one person can’t talk in person and the other couldn’t talk over the phone, or online. We were so disconnected and fragmented that when it came to our ‘conversations’, one topic could drag on for days. I guess we just kind of gave up trying. We were both so surrounded by people, me on field and him always on a different and new set, but at the same time so alone. It hurt at the time, losing one of my closest friends, but distance and time, combined with our lack of communication, allowed us to lead such different lives and become such different people – for the most part, better I think, despite the feelings of missing another piece of ourselves over the years.

The years without Chris saw me become such a different person, it was almost hard for him to recognise me when I met him again. Four years had flown by, in a whirlwind of partners, drama, extra studying and new friendships and work opportunities for the both of us. We both had so much more of a safety net, and knew so much more about the ‘scary big, wide world’ as we’d both once perceived it. Not everything was so dependant on just each other anymore – even though I’ll admit that I’d once loved him, losing him wasn’t that big of a deal anymore. We were both so different – me, once a broke, socially-awkward butterfly, had finally emerged from her cocoon and had found other people just like her. Chris was successful, well known and while his personality was so different… physically, well let’s just say that he could still get it. I was so happy – in a stable job (finally!), with an apartment, friends and no pressing need for a man. My life was going well, in summary. Yes, sometimes work was stressful, or there was drama at home or in the friendship group or romantically, or there was a disappointing date or party, but that didn’t matter. It was overshadowed by the good. I was no longer the broken-hearted 22-year-old who was losing her best friend and romantic interest and was on the brink of financial ruin. I’d metaphorically dug myself out of that ditch. Life was mostly good, except for one small element – I didn’t feel like I had anybody to truly connect with. Not like I’d had with Chris.

Unexpectedly, it was at a party we reconnected at. I mean, yes, I was no longer uncomfortable in loud or crowded spaces, but at the same time, I didn’t quite feel totally comfortable at house parties or bars yet either. I still felt that I needed to get used to them a bit. I’d been dragged along to the housewarming party by a bunch of girls from my work that I was semi-friends with. Long story short, I was drinking punch, chatting to some other people from my work when Chris whirled around from a separate group and quite literally knocked into me. Luckily, nothing was left in my cup, otherwise I feel as if I would have punched him in the arm, regardless of who he was to me. I’d blinked, and stared at him, not comprehending who he was. Why the hell was he here? This was a party full of a group of nerdy anthropologists, archaeologists and other humanities-centred people who’s worked sometimes overlapped. What the hell was a distant famous actor doing there? Turns out he was just a plus-one of a friend who had been at the same university hadn’t wanted to rock up alone that night. Weird, the way that some circles overlap. On the outside… well, not much had changed. We still recognised each other, for the most part. Only minor things like haircuts and clothing styles were slightly different or changed. But on the inside? Personally? Our whole dynamic was different – we were both actual, working adults then – him, a distant star, me a lowly intern. Seeing him at that party… well, my heart cracked wide open. Memories, of our childhood, our teenagerhood, of the memories of camping, firelight, stars and smoke, of all of our secrets and myths and times spent together of the first twenty years of our retrospectives lives spent and spoken and whispered together, flooded my mind. The sounds of my friends talking faded into white static and the air tasted like distinct batter-acid taste of mountain dew for a few seconds before I snapped back into reality, and faced one of my oldest friends.

I may not have been sure beforehand, but when Chris smiled at me, and we started talking again, I knew while both of us were completely different in personalities, and interests and what we worked on, we still were very much the same in the way that we talked and acted. The coffee place that I had gone to loads of times in the past couple of years with friends was physically no different, of course, but to me it came to mean a whole lot more personally, just because of Chris. Numbers and tears exchanged, we agreed to meet up, as much as we could or at least once a week at that one location. Sounds stupid, I know, to always meet at one place when there are so many other places and locations to try but that local café was neutral territory, where we could catch up and get to know each other, a place to reminisce and remember as well as catch up. Plus, it had great milkshakes. And I fell in love all over again – with him, and his laughter and quirks and personality. Time had changed us both and our situations but had also brought us together again by one simple twist of fate or simple fluke. A few months after, I found out that well, he felt that way too. My emotions ran wild. Joy, sudden shock, laughing, crying. Overall, pure happiness over that. Finally, he’d really noticed me, and loved me in return. Our relationship became something different, but so much happier. Sunday mornings spent in the sun, weekends at the beach or random date nights mid-week whenever he’d drop back in town without telling me, taking a break from filming. Thought sets were so far away, and he was often so physically far away, we continued, marching on, not entirely forgetting what happened when you lost somebody you loved and reminding ourselves daily, to never lose contact. Being with Chris was like always being home – the constant feeling of safety, happiness and warmth. 

Chris’ smile at that party reminded me, and our renewed relationship reminded me – it doesn’t matter where you are, or who you are, the opportunity to find somebody is not restricted to a small group, or an elite. It might be a random stroke of luck, or through dedicated searching, you can find what you have lost. There’s always the opportunity to reconnect and find those you have lost. Yes, you’ll fight, yes, you’ll lose sometimes or grow a bit more distant or lose a person, friend or loved one but that doesn’t matter, as long as you care – because there’ll always be a way back home, no matter the distance. After all, it only takes one question from the other party - Why don’t you come up and see?

@whiskey-cokenfanfic (sorry this is so late. I didn’t have connection I apologise so much anyway here’s my submission my alt is @theboningseason by the way this is just my personal thanks sorry sorry)

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge

[katsens-writing]

Bumpy Night, Part 8

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves one of the Avengers fighting for their life and the rest fighting time to save them.

Pairing: A little Bucky x reader maybe?

Content: A little injury, a tiny bit of angst but loads of fluff and feelings and relief and happy stuff.

Word Count: About 2k (Does not include recap)

A/N: This is it, the last part! Thank you so much to everyone for your support! I honestly didn’t think this would get nearly as much interest as it did. I’m going to have another story ready to run soon, so keep an eye out, I may do a preview! Special thanks to @whiskey-cokenfanfic for hosting the challenge!

---

     Peter lowered his gaze guiltily. “Ok,” he mumbled reluctantly. He lifted his moist eyes to meet Tony’s hopefully and Tony’s heart ached for him. “But can I come back and see her when I’m done?”

     “Of course kid,” he smiled warmly, touched by the kid’s concern. He pulled Peter to him and hugged him tenderly. He felt a pang in his chest as his misty eyes came to rest on your motionless form lying in the bed. “Of course.”

---

     Darkness was the first thing you were aware of as your consciousness returned. Why was it so dark? The next thing, almost immediately, was pain. You felt a prickling, sharp pain in one hand and a throbbing pain in your ankle but you couldn’t tell which one. You couldn’t feel your other hand at all. Your eyes opened into slits and a blinding light split through the darkness.

     Ow. You shut your eyes against the searing light. That’s why it was dark, you thought ruefully. You lifted your hand to shield your eyes against the light but stopped when you felt a tugging on your skin. You opened your eyes again and looked around. Once your surroundings came into focus, your memory came flooding back.

     “Y/N?” A familiar voice broke through the haze. You turned your head slowly and the face beside you came into focus.

     Steve’s face flooded with relief and joy as you tried to sit up before he jumped up to help you. You winced at the pain that shot through your ankle as you moved your leg, but you tried to hide it. You felt Steve’s warm hand on your back supporting you and his other around your forearm. You smiled at him gratefully as you settled back on your pillow. He returned your smile before something dawned on him. His face slowly fell with a soft groan.

     “What’s wrong?” You frowned, your concern cutting through your grogginess.

     Steve opened his eyes and smiled wryly at you. “Bucky is going to be so pissed. He’s been sitting here waiting for you to wake up all afternoon. I finally managed to convince him to get some rest, maybe take a shower. I told him that if you’d been asleep this long, you wouldn’t wake up in the twenty minutes he’d be gone...” Steve rubbed his face with his hand, lamenting. “He’s gonna kill me.”

     You chuckled at the captain in spite of yourself. “Well if you want, I can pretend to wake up when he comes back.”

     Steve looked up at you with his eyebrows raised sarcastically. “Could you?” You both laughed at that, but your smile quickly vanished as more of your memory came back. Your heart raced. Peter.

     “How’s Peter?” You asked, your brows pinching together, worry quickly filling your face.

     “Well you, Banner and Cho got him stable. He’s due out from testing soon, but the docs are optimistic. If you want, I can go check...” Steve’s voice trailed off as he turned back to you and met your gaze. You sat there and stared at him with slightly wider than normal eyes and he could see the plan forming behind them already. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You aren’t going to stay put, are you?” You just shrugged lightly in response and he sighed again, shaking his head. “Fine, I’ll help you up. That way I can keep an eye on you,” he looked at you sternly. “But if Banner and Cho find out, you’re on your own.” He raised his eyebrows in emphasis.

     “Deal,” you agreed as you swung your legs out of the bed, your hair falling in your face as you did. You reached up to brush it back, wondering what happened to your hair tie when you discovered why you hadn’t been able to feel your hand. Your right arm was in a cast from your elbow to your knuckles.

     “Lovely,” you muttered under your breath. You turned your attention to your left hand and carefully removed the IVs sticking out of it before looking around. Your gaze fell on a roll of medical tape on a tray beside your bed. You grabbed it and, with only a little difficulty, you tore a piece off and stuck it to the back of your hand where the IVs had been to stop the trickle of blood. That’ll do, you thought.

     “Careful, you broke your right ankle too when you jumped out of the quinjet.” Steve cautioned, giving you his arm to use as leverage to stand up.

     “That explains the throbbing,” you flinched. You let out a small gasp and quickly pursed your lips against a profanity that was reduced to whimper and bulging eyes.

     Steve glanced down at you. “Maybe next time you’ll wait ‘til the plane lands,” he teased with a smirk.

     Not likely, you thought, remembering Peter’s limp body hanging in Tony’s arms. “You’re not one to talk,” you snorted, causing Steve to crack into a grin. You two slowly made your way to the door. Steve opened it and you hobbled outside, leaning on the frame for support. You found most of the Avengers gathered outside, talking quietly to each other.

     “Hey guys,” you greeted them sheepishly. They all turned and looked at you with mild surprise but mostly relief. You began limping painfully toward the group without waiting for Steve, who lingered a few steps behind. You looked around the room with a small frown. “Where’s--”

     “Miss Y/L/N!” A cry at the far end of the room drew your attention. Peter stood in the doorway that led to another part of the medical floor with Tony and his aunt right behind him. “You’re ok!”

     Your eyes widened in surprise as a wave of emotions hit you. Joy, shock, but mostly overwhelming relief. “Pet-oof!”

     The wind burst out of your lungs as Peter plowed into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly and hugging you. For a second you were stunned, more from surprise than being winded. You were shocked to see Peter not only awake after how you had last seen him, but up and moving around on his own. His words also stuck with you. You’re ok. He must have seen you before you woke up and had been worried about you. After all that he had been through, he had been worried about you. You quickly recovered and wrapped your arms around the kid, one around his back and one around his shoulders.

     “Thank you for saving me,” Peter’s voice was muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder.

     A lump formed in your throat and tears brimmed your eyes at his sweet words. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that, kid,” you murmured softly.

     “I know,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to.” You smiled into his curls and hugged him tighter, your hair falling over your left shoulder and around Peter. You felt a damp spot forming on your shirt from a few silent tears the kid shed and your eyes watered even more. “Thank you,” he repeated.

     “Peter?” You and Peter both turned at the voice, pulling away a little. Bucky stood in the wide entryway behind the other Avengers, his mission gear replaced with a medium grey, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. His eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted.

     “Bucky!” Peter cried. He immediately ran over to Bucky, throwing his arms around the surprised super soldier. You imagine he looked about as shocked as you had. A soft grunt escaped Bucky as Peter ran into him. “Thank you for saving me, Bucky.”

     Bucky hesitantly lifted a hand and patted Peter on the back, his eyes misting. After a moment his shoulders relaxed and a faint smile found his lips as he wrapped his arms around Peter. “Don’t mention it, kid.”

     You smiled softly and approached them quietly. You gently slid one arm around Peter and the other around Bucky. Bucky looked up at the sensation and was surprised to see you. “Y/N?”

     “Oh, Miss Y/L/N is awake too,” Peter murmured, briefly opening his eyes before closing them again. He shifted an arm from around Bucky and placed it back around you. You shook your head tenderly with a soft chuckle.

     “Miss Y/L/N?” You glanced at Bucky, noticing the confusion in his voice.

     “Oh, sorry,” Peter mumbled an apology, closing his eyes again. “Agent Y/L/N.”

     You chuckled lightly again, resting your chin on the top of his head, your face settling into a small, content smile. “Just call me Y/N.”

     “Peter?” All three of you looked up at the voice to see May approaching, with Tony right behind. Tony’s lips twitched into a faint smirk when he noticed you. “The tests all came back clear, but the doctors said you need to get some rest. Dr. Cho and I already spoke with your principal, she assured us you can take as long as you need off from school to recover.” May spoke gently.

     “And if you need anything at all, you have Bruce’s number. He’ll call every couple of days to check in.” Tony turned to fix Peter with a stern gaze. “You are going home to rest,” Tony spoke firmly, not giving Peter any room to argue.

     “Yes, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled dejectedly. He was too tired to protest anyway. He shuffled over to his aunt who wrapped an arm around him lovingly and guided him toward the door.

     As soon as they left, Tony turned his attention on you. “And don’t think you’re getting off so easily, agent,” Tony crossed his arms with a scowl. You flinched under his stare. “Be happy Banner and Cho aren’t here right now, otherwise they’d have you put in restraints.”

     “But...” you began to protest before pausing in thought. “... yeah, ok. That’s fair.” You mumbled reluctantly. You heard a snicker and shot Bucky a glare but he just shrugged. You realized you still had your arm around him and you let it fall to your side.

     “Come on, Y/N,” he gently tugged the same arm toward your room, looking over his shoulder at a noise he heard coming from the hall behind him. “Let’s get you settled back in before the docs show up.” Bucky’s gaze fell to your hand and the medical tape on it before he glanced up at you questioningly. You just shrugged like you didn’t know what happened. He sighed before turning to Tony. “You can redo her IVs, right?”

     Tony glanced at your hand with a raised eyebrow before rolling his eyes in annoyance, trying to hide his amusement. “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he scoffed.

     Bucky nodded toward your room. “After you.” You took a step and winced in pain. Bucky noticed and, before you could protest, he took your arm in his.

     “So... what happened?” You asked as soon as you turned away from the others, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly with your casted hand. You were a little embarrassed to admit you didn't know.

     “What happened?” Bucky scoffed. “What happened is you forgot to eat for three days,” he raised an eyebrow at you. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to not skip breakfast?”

     You put on a thoughtful expression, pondering his question. “It does sound vaguely familiar...”

     Tony snorted behind the two of you and Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Steve,” he muttered. You chuckled tiredly at his exasperation and as hard as he tried, Bucky couldn’t hide the smile fighting its way to his lips. You were clearly ok, and against all odds, Peter was going to be fine as well. After you were settled back in your bed and Tony redone your IVs, Bucky pulled up the chair again and sat down at your side. He stayed there, keeping close watch until you drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on your lips.

     He thought of everything that had happened over the past several hours. I can’t believe it all happened in less than a day, he thought. He let out a sigh as he leaned back into his chair, his gaze resting on your face. You were finally at ease after spending the whole night worrying about Peter and himself as well as the others. He made a silent promise then that he would help take care of you until you were better, no matter how hard he suspected you would make it. He quietly thanked whatever led Peter, you, and everyone else safely through the long night before finally drifting off to sleep himself.

---

Tags: (Thank you all so much for your support. I love you guys!) @xmarveled @parkerspicedlatte @sunmoonandbucky @southerngracela @jll72-blog @evanstush @bla-369 @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @supermoonchildbroski @ihopeyousteponarosepetal

LAST PART   SERIES MASTERLIST   Buy me a coffee?

#Avengers #Avengers fanfic #Marvel #Marvel fanfic #Spider Man #Peter Parker #Iron Man #Tony Stark #Captain America #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #insert reader #my writing #writeblr #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #wcnfbirthdaychallenge #Bumpy Night by Kat

[katsens-writing]

Bumpy Night, Part 4

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves one of the Avengers gravely ill and the rest fighting time to save them.

Content: Continued heart-breaking angst, a lot of tension, inaccurate science/medical stuff (I am NOT a professional, people), serious illness, seizure, mention of blood/IVs, language (sorry Cap!) Let me know if I need to add anything.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky maybe?

Word Count: About 4.5k (Does not include recap)

A/N: This is part four of a story I wrote for a writing challenge. The line I chose was “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.” (You can find it in part one.) This was my first time writing for a challenge so let me know what you think! You can find a link at the end for the story masterlist. This part is full of angst and tension and I am so sorry. My ask box is open if you want to yell at me! If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know, its no trouble at all! (To my followers, keep an eye out for an announcement soon!)

---

     Before Bucky could finish, you grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. He was caught off guard and you felt him go rigid in your embrace but you didn’t care. You couldn’t let him finish that sentence. You quickly pulled back and looked at Bucky and this time, it was his turn to be shocked.

     “It’s not your fault. Do you understand me?” You whispered fiercely, your eyes intense. “It is not your fault. Say it.”

     “I--” He began to protest.

     “Say. It.” You repeated, your cool gaze piercing his own.

     “It’s--”

     A rapid beeping went off behind you and you whipped around, startled. Your heart stopped and your mouth fell open at the sight. Peter’s whole body was trembling and jerking, the convulsions so intense his back was arching off the table. Your eyes fell on his vital readings and your blood ran cold. You shot a quick look over your shoulder at Bucky. “Get Bruce.”

---

     You turned back to Peter and slid your hand under his neck to keep it as still as possible while you readjusted his pillow that had almost been pushed off the top of the exam table.

     “What happened?” Bruce demanded, immediately appearing at your side with Bucky right behind him.

     “I don’t know, this just started,” you responded, cradling Peter’s neck. You indicated the vital readings to Bruce with a nod and a worried look. “Stage two?”

     Bruce glanced at the readings and grimaced. “Yeah.”

     “What’s going on? What’s happening?” Bucky asked, panic edging its way into his voice.

      “The poison has advanced in his system causing a seizure,” Bruce responded. “It needs to stop before--”

     Before he could finish his sentence, Peter suddenly fell motionless. His neck went limp in your hands and his chest stilled.

     “Before that,” Bruce gritted, sprinting around to the other side of the table. He flicked a switch on the wall and the exam table lowered several inches. The steady beeping from the machine monitoring Peter’s breathing changed to a long, solid drawn out tone and Bruce pulled the mask off of Peter’s face. He reached under the table and handed you another mask with a bag attached to it. He shot you a quick look. “Two, thirty.”

     You nodded numbly. Adrenaline was pumping through your system again and everything around you disappeared. The beeping of the machines faded into oblivion followed by everything at the edges of your vision. Somehow, your intuition fought through the panic and instinct took over. Your limbs felt cold and your heart raced as you placed the new mask over Peter’s face. Through the thick haze of panic you vaguely heard Bruce’s voice counting as he did chest compressions on Peter and you made yourself focus on that.

     “27, 28, 29, 30.” Bruce counted quickly, each number accompanied by a sharp thrust to Peter’s lower chest. You squeezed the bag twice, forcing air into Peter’s lungs as you took a deep breath yourself. You would be no help to Peter if you passed out.

     Steady. Your eyes flicked to your shaking hand, holding the bag. You willed it to stop and to your surprise, the trembling lessened.

     “25, 26, 27...” You heard Bruce’s voice again and squeezed the bag hard two more times when he got to thirty. As your hand released the bag from the second pump of air, you took another deep breath. A silent commotion caught your attention as the corners of your vision began to return. You looked up to see Tony standing in the doorway, lunging and fighting, desperately trying to get to Peter, but Steve and Rhodey were holding him back. His eyes flicked to yours and locked onto them. For a second, you saw the pure desperation and fear in his eyes, and you swallowed before tearing your eyes away. You had to because Peter needed you to.

     Focus. You frowned in concentration as Bruce counted again.

     “28, 29, 30.” Bruce’s arms were getting sore, but if he noticed he didn’t let it show. He wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. 

     After squeezing the bag the second time you lowered your fingertips to rest on Peter’s neck. His pulse was slowing, growing fainter with each time it passed beneath your fingertips. You looked at Bruce with fear, and when your eyes met, you both knew what the other was thinking- if Peter didn’t start breathing again in the next few minutes, he would go into cardiac arrest.

     You cupped Peter’s cheek in your hand. “Come on- come on kid,” you pled, tears brimming your eyes. “Come on, breathe.”

     Bruce glanced at the screen monitoring Peter’s heartbeat before looking at Peter. A sudden wave of panic and helplessness hit him hard, but he forced it down, focusing on the compressions. “26, 27, 28, 29, 30.”

     Before you could squeeze the bag, Peter’s chest sprung up, his lungs filling with air as he gasped several times. You quickly yanked the mask off of his gaping mouth and replaced it with the oxygen mask. You watched as his chest rose and fell. A few tears slid down your cheek like it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You cupped his face with both hands, stroking his cheek and murmuring. “That’s it, baby. Breathe... breathe...”

     Tony pushed past Steve and Rhodey and was immediately next to you at Peter’s side, taking his hand. You slowly straightened and let out a long, shaky sigh. As you rose you closed your eyes. You felt a stray tear lingering in your corner eyelashes. The feel of the room shifted as relief flooded over everyone. You and Bruce exchanged a quiet look as you both caught your breath.

     Tony straightened and shakily turned to you and Bruce. “Good... good work, guys,” he swallowed in an attempt to steady his voice. “Get some rest, you’ll need it when we get to the compound.”

     You and Bruce exchanged an uneasy glance. Tony caught it and frowned. “What is it?”

     “Tony, Peter may be in the clear now, but none of the readings mean a damn thing if the poison is still in his system. He will start seizing again if we don’t do something about it.” Bruce told Tony bitterly.

     “So do something! Give him medicine, a breathing tube, something!” Tony replied, his desperation rising.

     “With everything in his system already it’s too risky!” Bruce argued.

     “Riskier than doing nothing?” Tony exploded, throwing his hands up in frustration.

     “Guys!” Steve shouted over the pair. Everyone turned to look at the captain. “We’re all worried and stressed but we need to stay calm, ok? Arguing isn’t doing anything for Peter,” he turned to Bruce. “You can’t give him any medicine? Fine. What can we do?”

    “That’s just it, I don’t know!” Bruce replied, frustrated because he felt helpless.

     A heavy silence fell over the jet as the news sank in. You looked around at all the solemn faces and you were at a loss. Your eyes fell on Bucky standing quietly a few steps away from the exam table. His eyes were on Peter but he looked lost in thought.

     “What’s his blood type?” Bucky asked quietly, his voice breaking the silence. He wasn’t a doctor or scientist, but he did learn a thing or two while under Hydra’s control. Maybe...

     Bruce jerked his head up at Bucky’s voice, startled. “Uh...” He glanced over at a chart on the table behind him.

     “He’s A-positive,” Tony eyed Bucky suspiciously. “Why?”

     Bucky’s gaze lifted to you and your eyes widened a fraction. “I’m A-positive,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

     “So?” Tony snapped impatiently. “How is that supposed to help?”

     “No, he may be on to something,” Bruce interrupted slowly, his eyes shifting in thought. “The poison was strengthened by super soldier DNA, and so was Peter. The poison is weaker now, thanks to Peter’s immune system, but it can only do so much. If we had the right blood type...” his voice trailed off. “The only thing is, it may also strengthen the poison.”

      “That is a possibility...” You bit your lip before your eyes widened in realization. “But before... before, the DNA was mixed in with the poison. It wouldn’t be now.”

     Bruce turned to Tony, trying to keep his new-found hope in check with caution. His eyes widened and he spoke quickly. “Tony... I know it’s never been done before- hell, I don’t even know if it will work and the legality of it is questionable at best but--”

     “Do it,” Tony cut off the scientist. “Whatever you need to do, do it. I’m going to call May, let her know what’s going on.” He headed toward the cockpit for some quiet.

     Bruce looked at you and indicated Bucky. “Can you get him ready?”

     You nodded and moved to get the supplies you would need to draw blood from Bucky. You walked over to one of the seats in the center of the jet. You glanced over at Bucky and he followed, closely watched by Steve. You could’ve drawn the blood anywhere on the jet, but the passenger seats in the center of the main cabin were cushioned and probably the most comfortable. Bucky slowly sat down in the chair, his muscles a little tense. Your suspicions that the tension stemmed from more than pain were confirmed when Steve casually strode up to Bucky.

     “Bucky, are you sure you want to do this?” Steve asked quietly, eyeing you. You pretended not to hear or see as you got the IV bag ready.

     Bucky let out a little huff and smiled tiredly up at his best friend. “Punk, if I were to say no, I’d expect you to knock me out and stick the needle in me yourself.”

     A small smile found your lips in spite of your heart breaking at his words. It was no surprise to you that Bucky would hate needles after all that Hydra had done to him. Yet in spite of all that, he was going to let you stick a needle in him to draw his blood, and all of it for Peter. You didn’t want to make him do something he didn’t want to do, but even though you’d only known him for less than a year, you knew he would never say no, not when it came to a kid, especially Peter.

     Bucky rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. You grabbed a wrap from the supplies you had gathered and tied a tourniquet above Bucky’s elbow. You gently took his wrist in your hand and turned it over so it was facing palm up. Once the needle was ready, you had Bucky make a fist. Using two fingers, you carefully pressed different spots on his arm, feeling around to locate a vein. When you found one, you wiped around the area with an antiseptic wipe before you looked up at Bucky.

     “If you want me to stop at any time...” you began.

     “I’m fine, really,” he smiled half-heartedly in an attempt to reassure you. He laid his head back in the chair and closed his eyes. Steve grunted and clenched his jaw at Bucky’s stubbornness and obvious lie but his gaze was soft. Unconvinced, you looked at Bucky for a minute before turning your attention back to your work. You gently laid the needle almost parallel to the vein in Bucky’s arm before pushing it through the skin. Bucky flinched as the needle pierced his skin and entered the vein. He shut his eyes tighter and his jaw clenched but, thankfully, he didn’t jerk his arm. That would’ve taken a lot more gauze than you had grabbed.

     “You ok, Buck?” Steve asked, his eyes never leaving his friend. Bucky silently nodded, his head still resting back against the chair. You noticed he looked a little pale and you were beginning to wonder yourself. Steve glanced at you uncertainly as if reading your mind. You held Bucky’s wrist in your hand and you adjusted your grip so your fingertips rested softly just beneath his palm. His pulse was a little quick, but it was steady. You nodded once at Steve and you saw his posture relax a little. He stayed at Bucky’s side for a while, but you noticed the quick glances he stole toward the cockpit every five minutes or so.

     “We’re ok here, Steve. You can go check on them,” you spoke up knowingly as you checked the level of the IV bag. Steve shifted hesitantly, and you saw when he glanced at Bucky that it stemmed not from lack of trust in you, but from concern for him. You smiled reassuringly at him. “We’ll be ok, Steve. I promise.”

     Steve looked at you and the worry etched on his face eased. “If you need anything...”

     “I won’t hesitate,” you nodded. Steve straightened and the concern left his face entirely. With a nod to you, he walked toward the cockpit.

     You turned your attention back to Bucky and noticed his hand was still balled into a fist. It was clenched so tight, his knuckles were solid white. You gently lifted his hand and took it in both of your own, one below and one resting on top, stroking the back of his hand softly. To your surprise, his fingers relaxed at your touch. You slid your hands around his and squeezed it softly. His brow was still pinched in discomfort and your heart ached for him. You checked the pulse in his wrist again and found it a little slower than before. That was expected since he had been resting for a bit now, but you were considering calling Bruce over anyway when Bucky began to stir.

     You let his hand go as he shifted in his chair. “I’m ok,” he mumbled instinctively and you couldn’t help the amused huff that escaped you. His eyes fluttered and he lowered his chin just enough to look at you. “Just tired,” he yawned.

     Your heart melted and you gave him an apologetic look. “I know, and I’m sorry, but I need you to stay awake, ok? I won’t know if anything is wrong unless you tell me,” you bit your lip. “Not that I’m expecting anything to go wrong,” you added quickly.

     “Nobody ever does,” Bucky replied bitterly, his eyes flicking over to Peter. They shifted back to you, and at the look on your face, he immediately regretted his words. “I... sorry. I didn’t mean it like- not- not you, you--”

     “It’s ok,” you shrugged dismissively. “You’re right. No one expects things to go wrong, but you try to anticipate the ways they can so you can be prepared.”

     “This,” you turned slightly and gestured toward Peter. “No one could anticipate this. No one could prepare for it.” You turned your head and looked meaningfully at Bucky. He looked away from your gaze a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his metal hand. He closed his eyes at the feeling of the cool metal against his warm skin, easing into the sensation. He frowned slightly at a different sensation and opened his eyes to see you still looking at him. He leaned forward with a sigh and rested his elbow on his knee, hanging his head. He raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at you, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You raised your eyebrows a little with a hint of a smile and leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees as well.

     “Ok, ok!” Bucky sighed exasperatedly, letting out a small chuckle in spite of himself. “You were right, ok? It wasn’t my fault. Happy now?”

     “I knew I’d get through to you,” you smiled softly, your eyes warm.

     Bucky shook his head gently with a sigh, a small smile on his lips and a faint glint in his eye. You both looked up as Natasha entered.

     “Hey guys,” she greeted, stifling a yawn.

     “Hey. You ok?” You looked up at her, instantly returning to medic mode.

     “Yeah, fine. Just need some sleep,” she stretched and yawned again. She lowered her arms and turned to you. “Steve said he’ll come and check in with you guys in a bit. ‘Night.”

     You watched as the exhausted spy sauntered off to the sleeping quarters. The second the door closed behind her, Bucky turned to look at you.

     “Hey... why does she get to sleep?” he protested. You snorted and shook your head affectionately with a grin. Bucky smiled warmly at you before easing back against the chair again with a sigh. You watched him with slight alarm but he raised his hands slowly. “’m not sleeping, promise.”

     You looked at the IV bag and saw it was almost full. “It’s ok. Just a few more minutes and then you can sleep all you want.”

     “What about you?” Bucky asked, his brows coming together in concern.

     “I’ll sleep when this is over,” you shrugged nonchalantly. You glanced at the bag before reaching for Bucky’s arm, carefully avoiding his intent stare.

     “That should do it,” you leaned forward to unhook the needle and pull it out from Bucky’s arm. As soon as it was out, you pressed a cotton ball to the spot and wrapped it firmly in gauze. You didn’t look up until you heard Steve enter from the cockpit.

     “How you feeling, Bucky?” he asked.

     “Like I could sleep for another hundred years,” Bucky replied, still watching you as you stood up and gathered up your stuff.

     “Not surprising,” Steve smirked.

     You held out your hand to Bucky as he moved to get up. He accepted it and slowly rose to his feet. When you were certain he was, you let his hand go and he immediately began to sway. His hand flew out to steady himself and he grabbed your shoulder. Without hesitating, you grabbed his hand and pulled his arm around your shoulders, allowing him to lean on you.

     “Woah, easy there pal,” Steve grimaced, grabbing Bucky’s other arm and helping to steady him.

     “’m fine,” Bucky protested groggily.

     You looked at Steve and eased your grip on Bucky. “You got him?”

     Steve nodded. “Thanks.” He tightened his grip on Bucky and moved toward the sleeping quarters.

     “Just a sec,” you motioned for Steve to stay put with Bucky. You walked back to the exam table, got down on your hands and knees, and grabbed your bag that had been kicked under it before pulling it out. You shifted your weight back to your heels into a crouching position and unzipped the bag. Steve watched you curiously as you dug through your bag. When you felt what you were looking for, you pulled it out and stood up, nudging your bag back under the table with your foot before returning to Steve and Bucky.

     “Here, this will help with the lightheadedness,” you held out your hand, revealing a plum. “Or if he’d rather, I’m sure either Nat or Clint have some granola bars in their packs.”

     “No, this is ok, thanks.” Steve smiled appreciatively.

     “Make sure he eats that before he goes to sleep, ok?” You insist.

     “’ll eat when you sleep,” Bucky slurred drowsily. You shook your head fondly at his stubbornness, but you were touched by his concern.

     Steve shook his head in mild exasperation and rolled his eyes a little. “I’ll feed it to him if I have to.” He started with Bucky toward the sleeping quarters again, but Bucky stopped him as his eyes fell on Peter.

     “Wait, hold on,” he mumbled. He turned his gaze from Peter to you. “You’ll let me know?” he asked, his eyes hopeful and almost pleading.

     “The second I know,” you promised with a warm smile. You nodded to Steve as he walked Bucky to the sleeping quarters.

     Satisfied that Steve and Bucky were safely back in the quarters, you grabbed the IV bag along with your stuff and joined Bruce at Peter’s side. Bruce took the bag from you and held it up to the light, examining it.

     “Is it enough?” you asked, a little uncertain. You would hate to have put Bucky through all of that for nothing.

     “Yeah, it should be. I’m just not sure this will work,” he turned and looked at you. “Here’s hoping.”

     Steve came out from the sleeping quarters and headed for the cockpit to take Natasha’s place. As he approached, Tony came out. The two exchanged a nod before Tony came over to you and Bruce.

     “How is everything so far?” Tony asked after a second.

     “Well, so far everything is good,” Bruce sighed, shutting his eyes tight and rubbing them.

     Tony nodded and turned to you a little hesitantly. “How is Barnes?”

     You blinked, not missing the hint of guilt in Tony’s voice. “He’s tired, but he’s ok. He’s getting some rest now.

     Tony nodded quietly, lowering his eyes. “Good, good.” He turned his head back to Peter and the three of you stood there in silence for a few minutes.

     Tony softly cleared his throat, his eyes moist. “Well, Clint said we managed to miss the storm, thank God. We have about another ten hours to go--” his voice cut off as his phone began to ring. He looked down at it and silenced it. He looked back up to you and Bruce. “Nat said we have a good tailwind so we may get there a little sooner--” his phone vibrated as he got a text. He briefly glanced at it, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He looked back up at the two of you again and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ten hours though. That’s enough time for you two to get some rest.”

     You studied Bruce quietly as he scrutinized the readings for Peter’s vitals before he turned and began putting stuff away. You walked to the other side of the exam table as he turned around. You gently took the old IV bag from him and looked up at him. “I’ve got it, Bruce. Go get some sleep.”

     The doctor met your eyes warily and you could see the exhaustion filling every inch of his face. “No, I already slept. You should get some rest.”

     You slipped your hands forward around the doctor’s and squeezed them gently, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. You need to get some sleep. Some real sleep.” Your smile shifted, and you gave the doctor a stern, mock threatening look as you moved your hands to your hips. Bruce lowered his head, sighing in defeat. He knew better than to try and argue with you again; he barely won last time. You pointed to the sleeping quarters, unwavering, like a parent sending their kid to their room. Bruce shook his head as he trudged toward them.

     Once he was gone, you turned your attention to Tony. He looked up from his phone and slid it into his pocket. “You next,” you crossed your arms.

     “Not happening,” he crossed his arms as well, meeting your gaze with his own stubborn one. “I’m not leaving Peter’s side. I’ve been away from him too much already. Besides, I already--”

     “No, you didn’t,” you interrupted Tony’s lie with a light scowl. “You were talking to Pepper and May and everyone else.”

     “Still not happening,” Tony tossed over his shoulder as he grabbed the chair beside Peter and pulled it back to the head of the exam table.

     You grumbled to yourself and rolled your eyes. Tony was unbearably stubborn sometimes- but you could be too. “I didn’t want to do this...” you sighed. Tony glanced over at you suspiciously as you lifted your chin a little and spoke up. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Call Pe--”

     “No!” Tony jumped up. He quickly crossed the room to you.

     You met his fiery gaze with your own cool one and a chill filled the room. “You need to sleep, Tony. Pepper isn’t the only one worried about you.” You saw Tony’s jaw twitch, but his eyes were still intense.

     You narrowed your eyes. “How do you think Peter would feel if he wakes up and finds you in the bed next to him because you collapsed? What would he think if he saw you like this?” You waved a hand at Peter. You and Tony both knew what Peter would think; he’d blame himself.

     Tony’s eyes narrowed, his fiery gaze flaring up into a burning blaze. “How. Dare. You,” Tony spat, jabbing you with a finger. He was furious, but you could tell that he knew you were right. Under the justified anger, you could see guilt and fear in his eyes as his voice trembled with rage. “You have no right. NO right.” He huffed and walked back to his seat, but he just stood behind it, watching Peter. You could see his shoulders shuddering with each deep breath he took and you felt a guilty pang in your chest. You felt low and dirty using Peter against Tony like that. It made you feel physically sick, and you hated doing it, but you had to, for Tony’s sake. You gave him a few minutes to calm down before you walked to his side. As you approached, you saw his fingers dig into the back of the chair like claws.

     “Tony,” began softly and hesitantly, gently resting a hand on his arm. He yanked it away and snapped his attention to you. The look on your face caused the remaining anger to vanish from him instantly.

     “I’m sorry, Tony. I’m just worried about you.” You turned your head away, ashamed. Tony watched you, his expression softening a little.

     “Do you trust me?” you asked, turning back, keeping your eyes lowered.

     “With my life,” he answered without hesitating, and it was true. The team literally trusted each other with their lives every time they went out on a mission, no matter how small or simple it was, and the team was like a family. If he didn’t trust you, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near his team- near his family.

    You lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “And with Peter’s?”

     Tony’s lips parted slightly and his eyes widened, caught by surprise before he clamped his mouth shut. He quickly looked away, a wave of guilt washing over him. “I- I’m sorry. It’s just...” he sighed. After a second he looked at you, holding your gaze steadily. “I do. You know I do.” In spite of his initial hesitancy, you saw the sincerity in his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat and a warmth grew in your chest. You had to fight back the tears forming in your own eyes.

     Your gaze narrowed as you leaned in, whispering with a soft intensity. “Then trust me now. Go call Pepper. Tell her you love her, then get some sleep.”

     Tony lowered his eyes, looking over at Peter, and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It’s just...” his voice broke.

     “I know. We all are,” you squeezed his arm softly and walked with him to the sleeping quarters. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

     Tony reached for the door. Hesitating, he looked back at you uncertainly. “Goodnight.”

     You smiled softly. “Goodnight.” Tony’s own lips twitched into a hint of a smile. All was forgiven, for both of you.

     You returned to Peter and scanned over the readings on the various instruments and machines. Everything looked ok for the time being. You eased into the chair at Peter’s side with a sigh and gently took Peter’s hand in your own, your eyes resting on his face. Maybe a part of you was hoping for some kind of reaction, a slight muscle twitch or maybe a tiny shift of his head, but none came. You sighed. That was probably for the best anyway.

     You glanced over at his vitals. His heartbeat was a little weaker and slower than an average person’s, but it was steady. His chest rose and fell with the even rhythm of his breathing. It put your mind at ease, seeing him like that. The tremors were so light and fewer than when you brought him back to the jet. You couldn’t let yourself get too relaxed, though. You needed to stay alert. You glanced at your watch without taking your hand away from Peter’s. About nine and a half hours left. You shifted your gaze back to Peter’s face. It was going to be a long night, but you weren’t going anywhere.

---

LAST PART  SERIES MASTERLIST  NEXT PART

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#Avengers #Avengers fanfic #Marvel #Marvel fanfic #MCU fanfic #Peter Parker #Spider-Man #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Tony Stark #Iron Man #Bruce Banner #Clint Barton #Hawkeye #Natasha Romanoff #Black Widow #wcnfbirthdaychallenge #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #my writing #writeblr #Bumpy Night by Kat #katsens-writing

[katsens-writing]

Bumpy Night, Part 3

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves one of the Avengers gravely ill and the rest fighting to save them.

Content: Loads of heart-breaking angst, inaccurate science/medical stuff, serious illness, implied past trauma? Please let me know if I need to add anything.

Pairing: Maybe the start of Reader x Bucky? 

Word Count: About 2.2k (Count does not include recap)

A/N: This is part three of a story I wrote for a writing challenge. The line I picked was “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.” (You can find the line in part one.) This was the first time I wrote something for a challenge so let me know what you think! If you want to be added to a taglist for the story or to a general taglist, let me know! Thanks to @whiskey-cokenfanfic for the challenge!

---

     “And this wasn’t just any poison,” your voice took on a more somber tone.

     “Y/N?” Steve gently pressed, his voice laced with inquiry. You lowered your gaze and sighed, shifting uncomfortably. As much as you didn’t want to say it, they had to know. Not saying it out loud wouldn’t make it any less true.

     You lifted your gaze and slowly took a deep, shaky breath to steady your voice. “I think the poison was specifically designed to kill super soldiers.”

---

   A heavy silence hung in the air. You turned back to the display and zoomed in on the DNA part of the formula.

     “Think about it,”  you began pacing, gesturing with your hands as you spoke. “The blood type is O-negative, right? It’s compatible with all other blood types. Hydra would’ve needed something to make the poison strong enough to kill a super soldier without making them stronger and the best thing to do that would be super soldier DNA. They just needed the right blood type so it wouldn’t be rejected by the body and to increase the poison’s chance of being successful.”  You stopped pacing and turned to face the team. The silence returned with a vengeance as the weight of your revelation sank in for everyone.

     “I’ll add that to F.R.I.D.A.Y’s database,” Tony finally broke the silence as he rubbed his face tiredly. “We’ll keep an eye out for it so we can be better prepared in the future.” He looked up and you could see the exhaustion and worry in his eyes and on his face. You felt you should say something, but before you could, Rhodey beat you to it.

     “Come on, Tony. You need to get some rest,” Rhodey rested his hand firmly on his friend’s shoulder. Tony opened his mouth to protest but Steve interrupted.

     “We all need some rest,” he agreed firmly, looking at Tony. Tony’s shoulders sank in defeat and he reluctantly agreed. He got up and, after making Bruce and you promise to wake him up if anything changed, headed for the sleeping quarters. One by one the team said goodnight, each one saying to wake them whenever needed. After a brief squabble and a stern glare from you, Bruce stretched out on a bench along the far wall to get some sleep. You sat on one opposite him, resting your chin on your folded hands. Bruce wanted to stay up but you insisted that he get some rest. He grudgingly agreed but on the condition that he slept in the main cabin and you finally relented. Only you and Steve remained. He came up and sat down next to you with a sigh and leaned back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. He sounded tired and from the way he moved, you could only assume that he was sore.

     “You ok?” you asked, glancing at him with concern.

     He huffed and gave a small, wry smile, arching his eyebrows tiredly. “Fine, all things considered.”

     You frowned at his off-handed response. “You know what I mean. The poison...” your voice trailed off.

     “You heard Tony, we’ll be ready next time,” he shrugged before flinching lightly from a pain in his shoulder.

     “You should get some rest too,” you whispered quietly, looking across at Bruce as he stirred in his sleep. Steve opened his mouth to brush it off but you stopped him. “I’ll be fine, if I need anything, I’ll get you guys.”

     Steve glanced at you and his eyebrows arched a little. He wanted to argue but he knew there was no point and he was tired. “Are you sure?”

     “Promise,” you smiled softly at him. “Goodnight.”

     “Goodnight,” he nodded, getting up with a stretch. As he turned and walked away he stifled a yawn. You watched Steve until he disappeared into the sleeping quarters, quietly closing the door behind him. You sighed and leaned forward, reaching for your gear bag. You couldn’t remember which one you grabbed because you had so many of them packed for various mission types and locations, and you stashed a few at each place you spent a lot of time at. You grabbed the handle on the backpack and pulled it up onto your lap before standing up. Your muscles were stiff and sore and you flinched slightly as they protested at the movement. All the lights were off in the main cabin except for a soft one above Peter. You quietly moved over to the chair at the head of Peter’s bed and settled in. Leaning back in the chair you let out a soft sigh as your muscles relaxed. You unzipped a pocket on the back of your bag and pulled out a book you had brought before zipping it back up and lowering it carefully to the floor beside you. You eased back into the chair and began skimming through the book to find the place you had left off.

     You didn’t remember much of the story, but you remembered the last time you had taken that book on a mission, your bookmarker had been one of the casualties when you had to jump into a river to avoid an enemy patrol. As you flipped and skimmed through the book looking for your spot, you kept glancing over at Peter every few pages. By the time you finally remembered where you had left off and found the page, you sighed and closed the book. You didn’t actually think you would be able to read at a time like that, but you had to at least try because you had to do something to stay awake.

     You looked over at Peter, your brows coming together in sorrowful concern. The tremors running through his body had gotten more pronounced since takeoff. With everything already in Peter’s system, Bruce was hesitant to give him any medicine. It was just too risky. Your eyes drifted along Peter’s body from his feet to his head and the further they traveled, the more your heart ached. When your eyes fell on his face they started to mist.

     “Hey,” a soft voice behind you made you jump with a gasp. You whipped your head around, startled.

     “Sorry,” Bucky winced, his chin dipping apologetically. “I thought you might like some company.”

     You sighed in relief and lowered your shoulders. “It’s ok,” you gave him a small, reassuring smile. You kept your voices at a whisper, not wanting to wake anyone or to disturb Peter. His senses were already heightened normally, but with the poison still in his system, they were even more sensitive.

     Bucky weakly returned your smile. You were looking around for another chair for him when you saw him slowly lowering himself to the floor beside yours with a grimace.

     “Oh here, you can sit here,” you quickly stood up and grabbed his hand without thinking to help him up.

     “No, it’s fine,” he replied, trying to hide the pain in his voice but you could hear the strain.

     “But--” you began to protest.

     “At this point, it would hurt more to get back up,” he reasoned. He tilted his head back a little to glance up at you. He gave a little amused huff when he saw your raised eyebrow and skeptical look. You lowered your eyes from his gaze and realized you were still holding his hand. You quickly let it go, a little flustered and looked up at him, resuming doubtful look. When Bucky met your gaze he could see genuine worry in your eyes and his face softened. He gave you a half-hearted smile. “I’m fine, really.”

     You sighed and gently shook your head. “No, you’re not.” You pulled the chair further down by Peter’s side before sitting down next to Bucky on the floor. He raised an eyebrow and looked at you curiously. You tipped your head back and rested it against the wall behind you before rolling it to the side to look over at him. “You may be stubborn, but you’re not fine.” Bucky just shrugged in response. His eye twitched the slightest fraction at the movement, but you noticed.

     “And there’s my real answer,” you sighed.

     “Just some stiff muscles,” Bucky forced through gritted teeth, his face contorting in pain as he straightened his left leg. “I’ll be fine.” He let out a deep sigh as the tension in his leg muscles dissipated. You sat side by side in silence for a moment, the only sound the beeping of the machines connected to Peter, the hiss of the oxygen and the low, soft rumbling of the quinjet as it made its way through the night. You saw Bucky massaging his knee out of the corner of your eye. When he moved his hand away, you saw a tear in his pant leg. You didn’t have to look closer to know it was caused by a knife and you felt your heart crack as it skipped a beat. Bucky had been injured and he hadn’t said a word about it to anyone, not even when you were looking at his arm.

     “So what do we know?” Bucky asked quietly after several minutes, looking straight ahead.

     “You didn’t miss much,” you replied softly. “It’s highly concentrated strychnine like we thought. Peter’s healing ability is slowing the advancement of the poison to the rest of his system.”

     Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “What else?” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, but his gaze remained steadily in front of him.

     “That’s really it,” you shrugged casually, hoping he didn’t notice your hesitation. “All we can do is wait and see.”

     You heard a little huff and turned to see Bucky smiling tiredly at you. “I’m not the only one who can’t bluff,” his eyes glinted faintly in the dim light as the smile faded. “What else?” he repeated with his tone a little lighter.

     You pinched the inside of your lower lip between your teeth, your gaze lowered to your lap. You closed your eyes and sighed before looking back up at him. The moment your eyes met, your resolve faltered, but you continued anyway. A pained look etched your face as you answered.

     “You were right,” you sighed again reluctantly. Bucky blinked, quietly waiting for you to continue. “The poison was enhanced with super soldier DNA. That’s one of the reasons it was so strong.” You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. “It was literally designed to kill a super soldier.” Looking in Bucky’s eyes, you witnessed something inside him that had once healed break again, and the crack in your heart deepened with it. Bucky quickly looked away. He moved to get up but you grabbed his arm.

     “Bucky, wait!” You whispered a bit louder. He whipped his head around and looked at you. Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare. You were a little caught off guard but you steadily held his gaze, your expression unwavering. Hidden behind the brief flare of irritation you could see remorse and guilt. He hid it very well and if you hadn’t known, you might’ve missed it. You knew though. You knew what could happen if those feelings weren’t addressed and you were not going to let that happen to Bucky.

     Bucky’s chest heaved as his eyes darted to your hand on his arm then back to your face. You eased your grip on his arm and looked him in the eye, your heart aching. “Don’t do this,” you whispered softly, shaking your head gently. “Please don’t do this to yourself. It wasn’t your fault. You know that.” You looked at him pleadingly.

     “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have done anything,” he replied bitterly, looking away. He was so tired, tired of the people he cared about getting hurt because of him, because of his past. No matter what he did, no matter how he tried, it always happened. When he went into hiding, the Avengers split up, and that was before he was even part of the team.

     You tugged on his arm, desperate to get him to look at you. You needed him to understand. “But you did do something! You did everything you possibly could have. If you hadn’t called us, if you hadn’t started back to the jet the second he fell, he wouldn’t have made it!”

     Bucky shook his head, not listening. “I should’ve been paying more attention. I should’ve sent him back to the jet when he showed up. I- I couldn’t even watch my own back, let alone his!” Bucky argued. He looked back at you angrily, his eyes moist. “He saved my life and now he’s dying because of it! Don’t you get it? He’s dying! He’s dying, and it’s because of--”

     Before Bucky could finish, you pulled him into a tight hug. He was caught off guard and you felt him go rigid in your embrace but you didn’t care. You couldn’t let him finish that sentence. You pulled back and looked at Bucky and this time, it was his turn to be shocked.

     “It’s not your fault. Do you understand me?” You whispered fiercely, your eyes intense. “It is not your fault. Say it.”

     “I--” he began to protest.

     “Say. It.” You repeated, your cool gaze piercing his own.

     “It’s--”

     A rapid beeping went off behind you and you whipped around, startled. Your heart stopped and your mouth fell open at the sight. Peter’s whole body was trembling and jerking, the convulsions so intense his back was arching off the table. Your eyes fell on his vital readings and your blood ran cold. You shot a quick look over your shoulder at Bucky. “Get Bruce.”

---

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[katsens-writing]

Bumpy Night, Part 2

Summary: A mission in the Sumatran jungle goes horribly wrong.

Content: Lots of angst, inaccurate science/medical stuff, serious illness.

Word Count: About 2.3k

A/N: This is the second part of my story for a writing challenge. The line I chose was “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.” You can find the line in the first part and in the recap below. This was the first time I wrote for a writing challenge so let me know what you think. If you want to be added to the taglist for the story or to a general taglist, let me know! Thanks to @whiskey-cokenfanfic for the challenge!

A soft whirring filled the jet as the engines fired up and Clint walked out. “Hey guys, we’re ready to take off. The radar shows a storm brewing over the Indian Ocean so heads up.”

Steve nodded absentmindedly and everyone murmured their acknowledgment and began moving to their seats half-heartedly, but their focus was still on Bruce.

“If he’s still experiencing the beginning symptoms and its already been two hours, then...” Tony began.

Bruce looked at him grimly. “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”

---

     You steeled your nerves at Bruce’s words. Peter was going to get through this, no matter what it took. You’d make sure of it. You got up to check on Peter. His whole body was trembling and he was covered in sweat. You scanned the readings for his vitals and your heart sank. They were worse than before. Bruce and Tony came over and joined you. Bruce looked at Peter’s vitals then took one look at Peter before quickly turning to a machine in the corner. Peter’s breathing was visibly labored and shaky, his chest trembling as he struggled to breathe.

     “We’re going to put him on oxygen, just as a precaution for now,” Bruce added the last part, turning to Tony and raising a hand to calm him. Bruce knew Tony well enough to know how he would react to that news. Tony closed his mouth and nodded quietly.

     “He needs to be constantly monitored,” Bruce continued. “I’m going to stay out here tonight so I won’t be far if anything happens.”

     Steve nodded. “The rest of us will take shifts so you can rest. I don’t think anyone will be sleeping much tonight anyway.”

     Tony opened his mouth. “I--”

     F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice came on over the intercom interrupting him. “Boss? Pepper is calling.”

     Tony grunted and stood, walking toward the cockpit as he lifted his arm. “Hey, honey...”

     You heard the change in his tone as he answered and couldn’t help the little huff that escaped you. Tony always tried so hard to play things down for Pepper’s sake but, no matter how hard he tried, she always saw through his façade.

     You shifted your eyes from Tony to Steve and Bruce to everyone in the room before falling on the slightly ajar door to the sleeping quarters. As the jet began to rise, you turned to Bruce and Steve.

     “I’ll be right back,” you spoke. Steve gave you a quick nod and turned back to the display Bruce was showing him, but he noticed out of the corner of his eye where you were heading.

     You turned and walked to the sleeping quarters. Even though the door was open, you knocked softly. The last thing you wanted was to startle a super soldier. You didn’t hear anything so you slowly opened the door. Bucky was sitting at the far end of the quarters on the floor with his back against the wall. His arms hung on his knees bent in front of him and his head was bowed, resting on his arms.

     “Bucky?” You called him softly, now standing a few feet away from him. He lifted his head and looked at you. His eyes briefly met yours before he lowered his head again. When they met, you felt a pang in your chest. His gaze was distant and unfocused, his eyes cloudy. You knelt down in front of him and looked at him. “Hey. How’s your arm?”

     Bucky didn’t seem to hear you. He just sat there and stared at the door. You looked into his eyes and sighed. “Come on, Bucky, what’s going on? Talk to me,” you pled.

     Bucky blinked and his eyes focused on you like he just realized you were in the room. He shook his head before he folded his hands and brought them to his mouth. You sighed again and eased yourself down to the floor next to him and sat leaning again the wall, your posture matching his. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes. It’d been a long day, you understood that. If Bucky didn’t want to talk, that was fine, but you weren’t going to let him be alone in his head.

     “It should have been me.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s hoarse, barely audible voice and you turned to him.

     “What?” you whispered.

     His voice cracked and his eyes flicked to yours. “The shot... A grenade went off. I was just recovering from the blast and was looking for...” he swallowed before continuing. “I was looking for Peter. I never even heard the guard, but Peter saw him. He swung in and warned me just as the guard was getting ready to fire. The guard turned and...” Bucky’s voice trailed off. A silence hung between the two of you for a moment before he turned back to look at you. When your eyes met, your heart broke, seeing the guilt held within his. “It should’ve been me.”

     “Bucky, you can’t blame yourself. Don’t ever blame yourself for this,” you spoke, gently resting a hand on his wrist. Bucky lowered his head and rested it on his arms again. You sat there silently, patting his shoulder absentmindedly to comfort him.

     After a minute, Bucky’s muffled voice broke the silent lull. “How is he?”

     “It’s hard to say,” you admitted, biting your lip. “He’s hooked up to oxygen for now, just to be safe.” Bucky lifted his head and nodded numbly before resting his chin on his arms. His eyes were red and he looked so tired.

     There was a soft knock on the door before it opened. “Y/N?” Sam stuck his head through the door. His eyes flicked from you to Bucky and back, his eyebrows arching together in worry. You offer him a faint smile, letting him know everything was ok. His expression relaxed and he hesitated a bit before he spoke. “Hey, Bruce was looking for you.”

     You nod and thanked him quietly before he left. You turned to Bucky. “I need to go. Will you be ok?” You asked softly.

     Bucky nodded silently, looking straight ahead of him. You gave him the best smile you could manage with the moisture gathered in your eyes. You patted his hand and began to rise. As you stood, you felt a gentle tug on your arm. You looked down to see Bucky holding your hand.

     “Hey,” he stopped you, tilting his head back a little. “...thanks.”

     You gave him a soft, understanding smile. Bucky let your hand slide from his grasp and it gently fell back to your side as you walked back to join the others. You closed the door behind you as you left, letting it stay open a crack as it had been before. You turned and found Bruce staring blankly at the analysis results and you joined him. He had an arm crossed over his torso and a hand raised to his chin, deep in thought.

     “I just don’t get it,” he spoke without turning to look at you. “This is Hydra’s work but... it isn’t Hydra. This isn’t what they do.”

     “Maybe it is.” The two of you looked up to see Natasha approaching from the cockpit, holding a flash drive in her hand.

     “What is it?” Steve asked, turning his attention to the three of you as Natasha entered.

     “Something I grabbed off one of the scientists Clint and I ran into in the jungle. Take a look.” She handed the drive to Bruce who put it into a port in the table the results projected from. A few seconds later the analysis results disappeared and were replaced by several files and pages containing formulas, diagrams, and schematics. He selected one page, a floor by floor layout of a building.

     “That’s the layout of a Hydra base,” Steve stepped forward with a frown. “And the lab we were just at.”

    “Well, that explains why we thought it was a base.” Natasha shrugged.

     “That was no coincidence. They wanted us to think it was just another base.” Everyone turned as Tony approached the group.

     “Why this one though? They’ve never tried to disguise their labs before,” Bruce asked, gesturing at the floorplan. Steve looked from the doctor to the display in front of them.

     “Because of this,” Seve straightened, narrowing his eyes as they focused on a page in the background. With a tap, the page came to the front, revealing a jumble of formulas, diagrams, and chemical compounds. It was labeled ‘Project XTJ-3′.

     Bruce frowned before turning to a corner of the display and dragging the analysis results back up. He quickly found what he was looking for among them- a diagram breakdown of the poison. He pushed the rest of it back to the corner and brought the diagram up and placed it side by side with the first page.

     “They’re the same...” Tony frowned. “Or almost, anyway.”

     “So? We already knew Hydra made the poison,” Natasha frowned. Steve shot her a look. “Sorry,” she blinked, lowering her gaze.

     “The more we know about the poison, the better,” Bruce replied understandingly. Everyone was worried about Peter and it made tensions high. He lifted a hand to the display and brought his fingers together, returning the first page to its normal size.

     “Wait-” Steve grabbed Bruce’s shoulder, stopping him as he was about to close out the file to search for anything else that might be useful. He pointed to something in the corner of the page. “Zoom in on that.” Bruce glanced at Steve quizzically but did what he said. Steve took one look at the picture before him and huffed.

     Bruce glanced at Steve. “Look familiar?”

     “It should by now,” Steve muttered.

     “Super soldier DNA,” you frowned. You looked over your shoulder at everyone as you felt several pairs of eyes resting on your back. “What?” You blinked, staring at them blankly. “You think SHIELD wouldn’t teach us to recognize it?”

     Bruce tilted his head and shrugged with a little hum. You saw Steve eyeing you warily out of the corner of his eye, his brow raised so slightly it almost went unnoticed. You bit the inside of your lip and sighed inwardly. You didn’t blame him one bit for his concern, but you couldn’t help starting to wonder again if the team would ever trust you. Hydra was gone from SHIELD. When the agency reformed, you were one of the first agents to come back, one of the first to pass the new extensive background checks put in place.

     “Super soldier DNA,” Sam repeated, blinking. A heavy silence hung amongst the group as the words sank in.

     “So they were trying to make the serum again, but they failed,” Natasha spoke slowly.

     You slowly lifted your head, your eyes widening as horrible realization dawned on you. “He was right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

     “What?” Steve frowned.

     You quickly turned around to face the group. “What if they weren’t trying to recreate the serum?” You asked, your eyes wide.

     “What do you mean?” Steve asked slowly, his brow creasing as he considered your words. You looked around and saw a few skeptical looks.

     “Just hear me out,” you raise a hand, your mind racing. “Whose DNA is it?” You asked, pointing to the display.

     Bruce’s brow creased and he raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully as he studied the diagram. “No one’s,” he replied after a moment. “At least no one that we know. Not that I can tell anyway. It’s too corrupted by the poison, but the parts that aren’t destroyed don’t match Steve or Bucky.”

     Natasha blinked at Banner. “So, you’re saying there are more super soldiers?” she deadpanned. You saw Tony shoot Steve a look and you frowned. Apparently you weren’t the only one to notice because everyone else turned their attention to the two.

     “Well?” Natasha arched her eyebrows. “Spill it, boys.”

     Steve sighed and rubbed his face before looking up. “When Bucky, Tony and I went to confront Zemo in Siberia, he was at an abandoned Hydra facility. We found several prototype cryogenic tubes. The facility had been part of the Winter Soldier project.”

     “The cryogenic tubes were crude at best but they worked- at least they had,” Tony added the last part with a grimace.

     “How many?” Sam asked, his eyes shifting between Tony and Steve with his arms crossed.

     Steve sighed. “Five tubes, five bodies.”

     You zoomed the formula back out and gestured at the section with the poison, turning to Banner. “You said this was strong enough to kill a super soldier, right?”

     Bruce narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he answered slowly. “Almost instantly.” Your breath was knocked out of you as you realized you were right. You desperately wished you hadn’t been.

     “We’ve been looking at this like a failed serum when we should be looking at it like a successful poison.” You turned away from the display and started pacing. Tony watched you walk back and forth and he could see the thoughts flying through your mind behind the intense concentration of your eyes and he couldn’t help but smirk.

     “The DNA wasn’t there as the base for a serum, it was there to strengthen the poison! That’s why the DNA was corrupted by it- they didn’t make any efforts to preserve it because they wanted it to blend.” You stopped pacing and looked at Tony and Bruce expectantly, almost excitedly, waiting as they processed what you had said.

     “That would explain why Peter survived,” Bruce spoke at last, his eyes averted in thought. “When the poison entered his system, he got a boost from the super soldier DNA as well.”

     “And this wasn’t just any poison,” your voice took on a more somber tone.

      “Y/N?” Steve gently pressed, his voice laced with inquiry. You lowered your gaze and sighed, shifting uncomfortably. As much as you didn’t want to say it, they had to know. Not saying it out loud wouldn’t make it any less true.

     You lifted your gaze and slowly took a deep, shaky breath to steady your voice. “I think the poison was specifically designed to kill super soldiers.”

---

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