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vibraniumavenger · 10 months

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Ties That Mend -Part 2

Find part 1 here.

The next morning, there was complete silence. You walked through the tower, expecting to bump into somebody but you didn't. Arriving at the kitchen, you poured yourself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, looking over the files Fury had sent you. A little while later, Nat walked into the kitchen and plonked herself in the chair next to you. She groaned as you sipped your coffee, the noise clearly disturbing her. Giggling, you stood up and poured her a cup. She took it gratefully and thanked you before taking a sip herself.

Clint and Sam were the next to join. Clint placed himself next to Nat, receiving a death glare as he took her coffee and began consuming it. You stood again, pouring another two cups and handing them to the guys. "Nat, how can you still look so good? You're hungover and you still look like a model. I'm sure I'd look nowhere near that good." You joked. Sam piped up, "Baby, I bet you'd look as flawless as always." He sent a wink and you scoffed. "You on the other hand, you look like shit this morning." You laughed, causing Clint to laugh also. It wasn't long before everybody joined you at the table, drinking coffee as they fought off their hangover. Tony on the other hand was not drinking coffee, he chose something a little stronger.

"Hey, what happened to your face?" Sam asked. He shrugs and takes another sip of his liquor. "I don't remember, I asked Jarvis for any footage but there's nothing. Thanks for fixing me up Bruce, I owe you. Well, technically you owe me. I mean, I let you live in my tower for free and supply you with things but it's fine. Now we're even." Bruce just rolled his eyes, clearly not paying attention to anything he was saying.

You were partially relieved, you didn't want him to know it was you. Another part of you wanted him to know. You wanted him to acknowledge that although he hurt you, you were decent enough to put all of it aside to help him. You sigh, standing up and walking to the bathroom before jumping in the shower, attempting to keep your distance from him.

As soon as you were gone, it started. “So, now that she’s been here a while, what do you guys think of her?" Clint asked, it wasn't meant in a malicious way. He was genuinely curious. "A girl that is secretive and dislikes Tony? I love the kid." Nat joked. Steve was next to make a comment. "She seems respectable. She is very secretive though. I can't access any files on her, they're all top secret. I'm not too sure we can trust her." The conversation continued back and forth between the members, Tony agreeing with everything they said. It's not like they were being too horrible, they were just discussing your disrespect to Tony and your secrecy. To them, this was a normal conversation. To you, it was hurtful. Not only did they not trust you, they spoke about you behind your back. "I can't stand her, she acts as if she's better than everybody else. She doesn't care for anybody but herself." Tony remarked, wanting to join in the conversation. You walked into the room, silencing them all. Obviously, you had heard everything. You didn't want to show them how hurt you felt, so you kept a straight face as you threw your towels in the wash.

"What's everybody talking about?" You asked. They hesitated, before mumbling something about a mission. You couldn't help but let out a laugh at their stupidity. Sending a glare to Tony, he swallowed nervously. He knew you heard. He knew you better than anybody, he could read it all over your face. Luckily, Steve stood, breaking everybody's silence. "Y/N, I think it's time we start training you." You avoid everybody's gaze as you turned around and walked back to your room, pulling on your training clothes. You went down to the training room, warming up as you waited for the others. They all joined shortly after, still looking guilty. Steve was the first one to step onto the mat. You started off with a few soft hits, before deciding to have no mercy. Sure, he was huge but you were determined. You fought great, dodging each hit he threw at you and then threw your own until you sent him back and onto the floor by landing a successful drop kick. The team clapped as Steve stood up, congratulating you before speed walking to the bench. The rest of the team backed out, so Natasha volunteered. Nat smirked, knowing she was able to floor you in seconds without much effort. She stood on the mat, reading your face and body language before throwing her first hit. To say you were equally matched would be an understatement, you were definitely in her league. The two of you fought continuously, not backing down. It went on until you decided to pull a move that would end it. You managed to position her correctly before throwing her over your shoulder and onto the floor, pinning her down with your legs around her neck until she slapped your leg repeatedly, indicating she was done. Everybody else was surprised, Nat never backed down with them. She stood, shaking your hand before stepping off the mat. Tony laughed, glaring at you intensely. "Got something to say?" You questioned, feeling a sudden burst of bravery. He shook his head as he walked over to you. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" You ignored his question momentarily, before you realised he was stood before you on the mat. "Why? Do you feel threatened, Stark?" You taunted. Just as he was about to throw a punch, you sent a swift punch to his throat, winding him successfully. You turned to walk away, leaving the team in awe. You felt a small sense of pride, but also plenty of guilt. Throwing yourself onto your bed, you made sure to avoid everybody for the rest of the day.

The next few days were uneventful. You kept yourself to yourself, hiding out in your room unless needed elsewhere. Steve, Bucky and Clint were called out for a mission which made it easier as there were less people to avoid. Tony was pissed you embarrassed him, he made sure you knew he was still pissed. He tried to get under your skin in every way possible. The rest of the team were sitting at the table once again. Your footsteps were heard as you made your way to the kitchen. Tony took this as his chance. "Natasha, I just want to say… you're the closest thing I've ever had to a sister. We've had our differences but you're actually a pretty decent human being. I'm proud to call you family." You could only roll your eyes, Natasha laughed as a confused expression plastered her face. "Stark, you trust me about as far as you can throw me." She confirmed. Tony once again tried to keep up the charade by practically kissing her ass for a few more minutes. You took your bottle of water, before walking back to your room. Natasha followed and walked into your room with you.

"So, I know we haven't really talked properly since you joined. I think we should get to know each other." She suggested. You scoffed, you knew what she was trying to do. "Why? So you can find out whatever secrets I have? I know you don't trust me. None of you do. You all made that clear when you spoke about me behind my back. Nobody can access my files, Fury and I agreed to keep my life a secret. There's some things that are better off unknown and whatever is on my file needs to be forgotten. Trust me, it's for everybody's own good." Natasha looked you over, attempting to read you. "You know everything about us. You expect us to trust you when we have no idea who you are. You could be anybody. We don't even know your last name!" You hesitated for a moment, before answering. "Howard. My last name is Howard. Y/N Howard. Happy?" Nat took a deep breath, clearly annoyed. "Well, Y/N Howard… a last name just isn't going to cut it. We need to know if we can trust you. Where did you even learn to fight like that?" You stayed silent, hoping she would leave. "Fine. But we're not done with this." She walked out, back to the rest of the team as you locked your door once again.

"Howard. That's her last name. You think it's legit?" Nat asked the others. Tony looked frozen, the last name clearly hitting a nerve. Everybody shrugged, unable to answer. “There has to be a way to find out more. What if we steal her file? Natasha’s basically a pro at that, she could access it easily. And, not to mention with Starks technology, it’d be easy.” Sam suggested. Nat smirked, it could work. “Unless you guys forgot, Steve already tried that. I don’t think there’s another way.” Tony stated. This lead the team to sigh, they'd get to the bottom of this. They were sure of it.

Pepper knocked on your door, you knew her knock so you didn't hesitate to open it and let her in. She sat on your bed, waiting for you to start talking. "If you want to talk, I'm here. You and I both know the truth." She reassured. You shot her a small smile before clearing your throat. "I don't know what to do, I can't stand it, I can't stand being in the tower with him. It's becoming a toxic environment and I don't think I can take much more of it. Everybody hates me, I'm pretty sure they're on to me. It's only a matter of time." You panicked, your breathing starting to increase rapidly. Pepper grabbed your hands, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, it's fine. You need to stay calm, okay? You have me, I'll be here no matter what. You and I both know what's he's like. He's too stubborn, it's one of his many flaws. Sometimes, I could just throttle him. But, deep down he's hurt. He masks it, drowning his sorrows until he can no longer feel them. Truth is, he feels guilty about what happened. He's just too stubborn to admit that he's sorry. If he could, he would apologise right now and patch things up between you. Please, don't take anything he says personally. He just… he's conflicted. Help him. He needs you more than you know." And with that, she hugged you before walking out. You sat thinking to yourself for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Tony announced he was throwing another party. This meant you would be sat in your room all night, avoiding everything. You announced you wouldn't be attending but they all refused. "Howard, is it? Your attendance is mandatory." Tony smirked, clearly being sly before pulling you aside and whispering in a provocative manner. "If you don't attend, everybody will know." Your face expressed exactly how you felt. You were beyond annoyed, knowing you would have to attend for your own good. Nat, Wanda and Pepper asked if you'd join them on yet another shopping trip. Swiping Tony's credit card from his wallet, Nat smirked and you all followed her to the car that was waiting outside. You thanked Happy as he shut the door behind you, starting the journey to the shopping centre. You left the car upon your arrival, thanking Happy once again and rushing inside before the others. You decided to start shopping straight away, distancing yourself from them. You knew they'd be looking for you, but you didn't care. The only one you truly got on with was Pepper and she understood. You didn't want to go overboard, so you threw a few things into your basket and paid as quickly as you could before rushing out of the store. Just as you did, you bumped into them. Nat looked at you suspiciously, but brushed it off. "We thought we'd lost you." Wanda commented. "Yeah, well one can dream." you remarked before turning and walking again. They followed this time, not letting you out of their sight.

They tried on a few different dresses, asking for opinions before deciding on the one they preferred. "What're you gonna wear tonight?" They asked you. You just shrugged. "Probably just jeans and a shirt." You admitted. You weren't one to dress up. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not allowing it." Natasha dragged you to the mannequin that stood in the window, the blue dress hugging its figure in all the right places. "This would look perfect on you." You shook your head but Nat was already undressing the doll. "Here. Try it on." She pushed you into the changing room, giving you no other option but to try it on. You did as she asked, throwing it on as quickly as you could before walking out. She smirked, approving almost instantly. After changing back to your casual clothing, you went to the checkout. As Nat pulled out Tony's credit card, you declined. Using your own, you paid.

You made your way back to the tower, once again throwing yourself into your room. The party was a few hours later, by that time you were somewhat prepared. Pepper complimented you, making you smile. You thanked her, complimenting her back before heading down to the gathering. It was loud and crowded, your least favourite environment. You could feel how your body tensed, uncomfortably. You were approached by Sam, you had already rolled your eyes multiple times by the time he reached you. Handing you a drink, you laughed. "You know I don't drink, what's this for?" His face dropped, “Oh shoot, I forgot, my bad. I just thought you looked a little uncomfortable, and I wanted to help you loosen up.” You looked around at everybody else. You watched the way everybody danced, the way some stared at you, the anxiety slowly beginning to rise. Tony caught your eye, his smirked faltered and he began making his way over to you. Almost as if you felt the need to rebel against him, you took the drink and put it to your lips, preparing yourself to take a sip. His face changed completely and you took satisfaction in that. You hesitated before downing the liquid quickly. It burned as it travelled throughout your body, your face scrunched and you instantly regretted it. But did you stop? No. No, you didn't. Instead, you took another shot. “Woah, slow down there, I don’t think you should do that.” You laughed, but it wasn’t humorous, there was no emotion behind it. “I can’t take it anymore, Sam. I need to finally feel free, I’m exhausted. I need this.” A few drinks later, your head was spinning, you felt nauseous and right when Natasha sat beside you, you were pretty sure you were about do something stupid but your mind wasn't matching with your actions. Your blurred vision made it harder to concentrate. “Are you drunk?” You tried to focus on her, but it proved to be incredibly difficult. “Unfortunately, I believe I am,” you slurred. Natasha smirked to herself, as much as she didn’t agree with doing this, she couldn’t help but use this moment as an advantage. “Who are you?" Natasha asked. You were about to answer, but Tony stopped you. "Enough. I want nothing to do with this anymore. She told you she doesn't drink, and now you’re using this as a chance to investigate who she is? Do you know how wrong that is? That isn't fair. If she doesn't want you knowing, there's probably a good enough reason. Come on Y/N, let's get you out of here." You shook your head. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Not after the way you've treated me." You slurred. Tony picked you up, your sloppy hits did nothing to him as he carried you to the elevator. Pepper excused herself from her current conversation, and followed them. “Tony, what the hell happened?” Tony let out a loud sigh, “I don’t know. She got drunk, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have made her come, she doesn’t drink and I’m the reason. I think I fucked up, Pep. How can I fix this?” Pepper rubbed his shoulder, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? I’ll take care of her. You go get some rest, we can figure this all out tomorrow.” After Tony had left, Pepper encouraged you to drink water, helped you change into pyjamas and lay you in bed, careful not to hurt you. “The whole room is spinning, Pepper.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at this, “I know. You’ll feel better once you’ve slept.” You let a tear slip, “I wish things were different. I wish he cared as much as I did.” Pepper sighed, “It may seem that way, but believe me, Y/N, he cares more than you think.” She brushed the hair out of your face, but you were already unconscious. She left without another word, heading the bedroom to check up on Tony. Pepper approached him, smiling widely. "I'm proud of you, you know that?" She praised. "You did the right thing." Tony kissed her, before undressing and crawling into his bed. "Just tell the others I wasn't feeling good. Party's over." Pepper agreed, walking away to pass on the message. The tower was evacuated, leaving silence as the team made their way to their rooms once again.

When you woke up the next day, your head was pounding, and your mouth felt like sandpaper. You could barely pull yourself out of the bed, but you knew you needed painkillers and coffee. You practically dragged yourself to the kitchen and poured yourself a cup, and throwing back the painkillers to nurse your hangover. Plopping down at the table, you sent a text to Fury, asking for a meeting.

You stormed into Tony's office, startling him. "I've asked you many times before, this is the last time I'm asking. Remove me from Stark Industries, I don't want any income, I don't want any association with it. I'm better off without you and this company, I'm better off without all of you." Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. "You're entitled to half of the company, it’s what they would've wanted… you know that." He admitted. You couldn't help but laugh at this. "No, it's not what they would've wanted. They would've wanted you to take cake of me correctly, they would've wanted you to run the company correctly. Instead, you screwed up. All you ever do is screw up." You yelled, slamming your hands onto his desk. "I want no part of it anymore, I can't do it. We failed them… and you failed me. I'll sign whatever you need me to, just remove me." You walked out, bumping into Nat on the way out. "What was that about?" She asked, but you ignored her. You walked yourself out of the tower, taking one of the cars to the compound, before navigating your way to Fury.

"Agent, how can I help?" He asked, slightly shocked to see you. "I want to be removed from the Avengers Initiative." You demanded. "I'm afraid that isn't an option." This caused you to sigh, clearly frustrated. "I can still work for S.H.I.E.L.D. but I refuse to work with the Avengers." His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, he wasn't in the mood. "Is there a problem I'm not aware of? Because, if not then I need you need to suck it up." This angered you even more. "Just place me on any other team!" "Frankly, that's not an option. There is no other team. Unless you would like to join Hydra. I'm sure I could put your name forward. They'd do anything to infiltrate us." Admitting your defeat, you apologised before excusing yourself.

Back at the tower, things were tense. The team were aware of their mistakes, they apologised; much to their dismay. You were forced to forgive them, but the atmosphere remained thick with tension. Tony was gathering paperwork in his office when you approached him once again. "I'm sorry about my little outburst earlier. I didn't mean those things I said. If it's okay with you, I'd still like to have my share." Tony nodded, giving you a small smile before you walked back out to your room.

The next few months were uneventful, you went on missions, you spent time with the team and you were still hiding the fact you were a Stark a secret. You and Tony had decided small talk was best, but you still clashed. The team questioned the possibility of you being in love with him, but they had no idea. Soon, nobody thought anything of it as they had grown accustomed to your behaviour. It was the day you both avoided everybody and failed to leave your room that caused alarm bells to sound. Your rooms were on lockdown, neither of you could pull yourselves together long enough to face the team. Your cries weren't ignored, the team grew worried. You pulled on your oversized MIT sweatshirt and wiped your puffy face over before making your way to Tony's room. You knocked a familiar rhythm and his door swung open, revealing his fragile appearance. He took one look at you before pulling you into a hug. A hug you had missed. One thing was for sure, you had your differences but in times like this, all you needed was your big brother.

A/N: Thank you so much for your support! This is part 2, as previously stated I had started on this many years ago, I'm struggling with writers block currently, so I'm just changing and editing my current fics, in order to get back into the flow of things. If you have any suggestions, let me know! I'm unsure of where I'm taking this one, so if you'd like an input, feel free! I appreciate you taking the time to read this! Enjoy :)

Taglist: @vicmc624

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 7: "The Archer"

"I never grew up, it's getting so old. Help me hold on to you..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

And for a while, things remain mostly the same. You, Bucky, Sam going on missions, enjoying your life, and absorbing modern-day society like a sponge.

Except now, your circle had expanded. A couple times a week, you'd visit the compound. In addition to Bucky, you also now routinely saw Steve, Tony, and Bruce, who each helped you continue to learn and adapt in their own unique ways.

You knew there were more on the team, but according to Sam some members were always out and about, while others like Tony and Bruce preferred to stay closer to home.

It was all the same, until it wasn't.

“I think it’s just going to be us today,” Sam mumbles to Bucky, who’s just barely walked in the door to your's and Sam's shared home. Bucky knew something was off when he didn’t hear your normal excited greeting. He also didn’t realize how much he’d come to look forward to watching you be genuinely excited to see him again.

“I already told you I’m fine, Sam,” you call over your shoulder, your eyes still focused on the street in front of you. You’re sitting on the windowsill, knees tucked to your chest, your chin resting on your knees.

“Yeah, when you blink once every 10 minutes that’s not fine. Ask Bucky, he’d know.”

“Thanks for that,” Bucky sarcastically replies, though his eyes are firmly planted on you.

“You’re welcome,” Sam retorts.

Bucky rolls his eyes then takes a large deep breath. “What’s wrong?” Bucky asks to no one specifically.

“I told her about the move,” Sam whispers.

“And? She doesn’t want to be on the compound or something?”

“I do,” you absently mumble, though you're not entirely listening to their conversation.

“It’s not that,” Sam continues. “It’s just a big change. Not that I’d know considering she’s refusing to talk to me,” he pointedly remarks, trying to coax a reaction out of you.

“Oh,” Bucky nods.

“Can you stay with her?”

“You don’t need me for the mission?”

“I’ll call Steve. Who knows? Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you mutter.

“I’m not supposed to leave you alone, you know that. Besides, I’m definitely not leaving you alone like this.”

“Okay,” you weakly agree, having no energy to plead your case.

You were told it was called disassociation, at least that’s what your therapist called it. But one second Sam and Bucky are talking about who’s going to stay with you, and the next it’s completely silent. Your eyes momentarily flicker away from the window to the figure sitting in front of you.

With how far gone you were, you didn’t even notice Bucky taking a seat on the windowsill right in front of you. His legs criss-crossed as he stared out the window with you- just two minimally blinking figures, sitting in complete silence.

It actually attested to how much you trusted the man in front of you, this wasn’t a side of you anyone else except Sam saw. You were careful to never present yourself like this, and the fact that you were okay with Bucky seeing you like this, whether he knew it or not- it meant a lot.

“That guy,” you state out of nowhere, nudging your head to a pedestrian on the street. There’s nothing that particularly stands out about this old man. His walk is slow, hunched over as he clutches a bag of produce. “He passes by every single day. Every single day at the same time.”

“Yeah?”

“He gets the same thing every single day. Comes back every single day.”

“Why doesn’t he just get enough to last him the week?”

“I thought that at first, but then I thought ‘what if he’s going because he’s getting his wife her favorite food every single day?’ or ‘what if he likes to walk through the farmer’s market down the street?’”

Bucky immediately thinks of a much more negative hypothetical, but he doesn’t voice it- if only to avoid making you feel worse. “That’s nice,” he replies, because it is. It’s nice that you don’t assume the worst in other people like he does. If he saw that guy, not that he would have noticed something like that in the first place, but the man’s story would have been a bitter tragedy.

“Eventually they’ll all see right through me,” you absently whisper, still staring outside.

And strangely enough, Bucky knows exactly what you’re talking about.

That dark side that existed in everyone, some worse than others. As the Winter Soldier, that darkness was the first side of him that they’d seen. From there, he could really only improve on his image- but that was him. And you were you. He didn’t see a bad side there, he didn’t see any part of you that wasn’t worth presenting. It was all good, so it confounded him that there was a part of yourself you were desperate to hold onto.

“Can you?” you anxiously ask, and now he’s not sure how much time has passed since your first remark.

“What?” he asks.

“Can you see right through me?”

“No.”

You dejectedly sigh, not sure which answer you wanted from him. “You will- eventually.”

Apparently Sam’s mission with Steve wasn’t as cut and dry as he’d hoped it would be. And though you felt better after almost an entire day of disassociation with Bucky, you knew that you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight. Sam broke the news last night, the two of you splitting a pizza when he told you that he thought it was time to move onto the compound. What followed was a fitful night of tossing and turning, combined with anxiety filled memories disguising themselves as dreams.

Bucky promised Sam that he would stay the night to make sure you were okay, but with the dream from the night before still fresh in your mind, you refused to even try to sleep tonight.

You weren’t really sure which set off your new mental tailspin, all that you knew was that it was as if the images were branded into your psyche: that room, the things that happened to you. All brought back every time you closed your eyes.

“Please,” you sobbed.

“Please. I behave. I behave,” you screamed as they strapped you to the table.

“What are you?” the man towering above you asked.

“Abomination,” you automatically replied.

“3 days.”

“No,” you bellowed, tears streaming down your face.“Please. Please.”

“Three days. Now quiet or I’ll add another.”

You shuddered at the memory, being strapped to that table while they deprived you of food and water for days, slowly driving you crazy. All in the name of getting rid of the evil they claimed was deep inside of you.

So you weren’t even going to bother.

Instead, you waited until you couldn’t hear any movement in the house. You gently cracked open your door and silently made your way through the house. You walked up to the bookshelf, picking up one of the classics from the long list that Bruce gave you, setting the book on the table and grabbing a pint of ice cream and a spoon to settle in for the rest of the night.

“Doll? What are you doing up?” Bucky asked walking into the kitchen to see you standing there, with only the refrigerator light brightening up the room. It was strange watching you jolt at the sound of his voice, it had become something of an inside joke that he couldn't sneak up on you, while you were plenty good at doing it to him.

“Oh, did I wake you?” you ask, ignoring Bucky’s question.

“No, I, uh…couldn’t sleep,” he cautiously admits.

“Me neither. You’re welcome to join me if you want,” you offer with a small smile.

He smirks, grabbing a spoon and padding over to the table. “Alright.”

“What are you reading?”

“Bruce gave me a list of ‘the classics’.”

“And are you enjoying any of them?” Bucky knowingly smirks.

“Not all of them,” you admit, slightly wrinkling your nose. “This one’s pretty good.”

“Pride and Prejudice, never read it.” Bucky takes a large spoonful of ice cream, but before taking a bite, he asks, “You know, you never did say why you’re up. And I know it’s not to raid Sam’s good ice cream.”

“Do you- do you ever remember?” you meekly ask, closing your book and setting it down.

“No," he states, staring down at the table to avoid eye contact. "Not all of them. Not anymore, but sometimes- sometimes I dream about them,” Bucky solemnly admits, his eyes downcast as he puts his spoon down. “Do you remember?”

“I close my eyes and I see it. Over and over again."

“Do you want to tell me what you see?”

“It’s hard. Hard to explain, I mean.”

“Try me.”

“It was a small room,” you describe, though the absent, plain tone of your voice tells Bucky that right now, you’re back in that room. “Cold, dark- lonely, really lonely. I spent 25 years in that room.”

“25 years?” he asks, mostly trying to redirect the conversation to bring you back. “I thought you didn’t know how old you are?”

You halfheartedly chuckle, trying to pull your facade back together. “Tony and Bruce did some testing: bone density, that kind of thing. They’re pretty sure I’m about 25 years old.”

"You're going to be fine," Bucky offers, responding to your silent doubts. "You're a good person- they'll see that."

"Yeah," you whisper in agreement, a small smile forming on your lips. "It'll be alright."

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iam93percentstardust · 1 year

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winterironfalcon, sam and tony are both away on a mission while bucky still isn't cleared to go. they send him a text every morning until one morning he doesn't get one. your call if you go super angsty or super fluffy with that one, surprise me :)

I wanted so bad to write BAMF Bucky, but this came out instead, so you're getting something somewhere between angsty and fluffy

Bucky knew the moment Sam and Tony missed their scheduled check-in that something was wrong. Other people might have thought it was foolish to be so convinced after one missed text that things had gone poorly, but Bucky hadn’t maintained his position as the Fist of HYDRA for seventy years by ignoring his instincts. If he had, he would have been dead a hundred times over, killed by that American attempt at a new supersoldier back in Korea or by one of his own trainees in Siberia or one of the Widows after HYDRA ordered him to betray them.

“I should have been out there with them,” he snarled, pacing back and forth in front of the hangar doors. He wasn’t cleared to go on missions with the team yet, so he had no idea how long it would take the Quinjet to travel from Kenya, where the weapons convention had been, back home to the tower. He just hoped that Sam and Tony would be on it, that they hadn’t, as all his instincts were screaming had happened, been kidnapped.

“You don’t actually know that something went wrong,” Clint pointed out from where he was balancing on his crutches in the doorway. He was originally supposed to be the one of the members on the mission, but that plan had fallen in the dumpster when Clint had fallen in the dumpster after a night out with Daredevil and broken his leg. Natasha probably could have easily completed the mission with another partner, but Steve and Bruce couldn’t act to save their lives, neither as the arms dealer Clint was supposed to be playing or as Natasha’s spouse. And since Tony already knew all about weapons manufacturing, and he and Sam were already a couple (even if their couple was actually a throuple), well…

Sam and Tony were the next-best choice, the only choice, and though Bucky had been leery about letting them go on the mission without him, he’d eventually agreed to it after they’d promised to send him daily check-ins.

“They might just have decided to skip it since they’re on their way back now,” Clint suggested.

Bucky gave him what must have been a truly unimpressed look because Clint winced. Un-fucking-likely. Natasha wasn’t the type to send updates, too used to SHIELD sending her on completely-dark missions without an extraction plan, and Steve sent his through Hill every couple of days, but Sam and Tony—they’d promised him daily updates. And considering they’d been dating for nearly six months, Bucky was inclined to trust them, even though he still wasn’t used to it.

“The jet should have been back by now,” he muttered, pulling the phone Tony had insisted on getting him out of his pocket to check the time. The team was over six hours late. The convention Sam and Tony had been attending had ended the previous night; they should have wrapped things up earlier and already been back by now—or at the very least well on their way home. Bucky should have been reading filthy texts from Tony all about what he wanted Bucky to do to him, not anxiously searching the horizon for the speck he knew would be the Quinjet.

“I’m flying out there,” he announced.

“What?” Clint said, startled. “No. Bucky, no. You’re not cleared for a mission, you don’t even know how to fly the Quinjet.”

“Nope,” Bucky agreed, marching toward the spare jet. He had at least a couple guns stashed away in there. He had stash points all over the tower. It made him feel better in case Tony’s security system ever failed during an attack. “That’s why you’re coming with me.”

“Uh, no?” Clint hopped across the hangar, tugged on Bucky’s arm as he ignored him in favor of inputting the code to open the bay doors. “Bucky, come on. They probably just got delayed.”

“Great. When we pass them in midair, then we can turn back around. But until—unless—we do, I’m flying out to Kenya.” He stopped and gave Clint the pleading eyes that always worked to get him and Steve out of trouble when they were kids. “Clint, I need you. I can’t fly this bird by myself.”

Clint groaned for an impressive forty-five seconds. Bucky waited him out, tapping his foot impatiently. He liked being able to do little things like that. It wasn’t natural to him, not before his time with HYDRA and not during, but he liked having the freedom to show his impatience, even in the smallest of ways.

“Aw Quinjet no,” Clint muttered eventually, heading up the ramp.

Bucky nodded shortly to himself and followed.

The closer they got to Kenya, the more likely it seemed he was right. They didn’t pass the other Quinjet like ships in the night. They weren’t hailed by any of their silent team members. They weren’t hailed by anyone, and as they flew over Nairobi, Bucky spotted the hotel where the convention had been at in flames.

“Fuck,” Clint breathed, bringing them in for a landing on the rooftop of the Stark Industries building the team had been using as a base of operations. The other Quinjet was there, innocuously parked in the hangar. As Bucky stalked down the ramp, Clint hobbling behind him, Steve and Natasha emerged from the tower. Both were armed, though Steve lowered his shield as soon as he spotted them.

“Buck?” Steve asked worriedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are you doing here?”

“Good,” Bucky grunted, pushing past him. “You’re both still alive. Glad to hear that someone is.”

Natasha blocked him before he can make it through the door. “You’re not cleared to be here,” she said evenly.

“I wouldn’t need to be if either of my partners had checked in last night like they were supposed to,” he snapped. “Or if you had made it home like you were supposed to. Where are they?”

“We got them back!” Steve blurted out.

Bucky whirled around so fast he managed to give himself whiplash, which he thought was impossible. “What do you mean, you got them back?” he shouted. “You lost them?”

Natasha made an irritated noise behind him. Clint patted Steve’s back sympathetically. Steve looked between all three of them like he hoping one of them would rescue him, but Bucky had caught the scent now, and he wouldn’t be deterred. Natasha, he doubted he could break, but Steve had never been able to keep a secret from him, which was how he knew about that time Steve had drunkenly made out with Falsworth.

“What,” he asked softly, dangerously, stepping forward until he was in Steve’s space, nearly nose to nose with him, “do you mean, you got them back?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Their cover was blown. We’re not sure how, that’s why we haven’t gotten back yet. We went dark because we’re pretty sure it was a mole and not someone figuring them out. Sam and Tony were taken last night during the speeches. We found them this morning. They hadn’t even been moved from the hotel. They’re fine, mostly, sleeping off the drugs they were given, but they’re not injured.”

For the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, Bucky relaxed. “They’re okay?” he asked, double-checking.

“They’re okay. Natasha brought in a doctor she knows to take a look at them. The drug was just meant to knock them out for a few days. They’ll wake up probably tomorrow.”

Bucky exhaled slowly. His lovers were going to be okay. There was a buzzing under his skin that likely wouldn’t be settled until he got to see them in person, but there were more pressing matters at hand now.

“You said somethin’ about a mole?”

“Yes,” Natasha said, joining them. Clint looked between the three of them and then disappeared into the penthouse, muttering something about checking on Sam and Tony.

“Then what are we doing still standing here?” he demanded. “Let’s hunt them down.”

When the Winter Soldier put his mind to something, there wasn’t much that didn’t get done quickly. Tracking down the mole was no different. In less than a day, he had flushed them out of Hill’s command center, had them turned over to the authorities, and made it back to Sam and Tony’s bedside just in time for Sam to start waking up. This particular Stark Industries facility didn’t have a medical center like the tower back in New York, only the penthouse and a couple of guest suites, so Sam and Tony had been placed in the same bed in the penthouse.

Bucky had dragged an armchair close to the bed as soon as he got back and settled in to wait, but he didn’t have to wait long. In less than an hour, Sam groaned, his eyelashes starting to flutter. Bucky immediately put down the book he was reading and waited as Sam blinked and then turned to him, fixing him with an adorably fuzzy look.

“Morning, baby,” Bucky said softly, picking up Sam’s hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb.

“Wha’ happen’?” Sam slurred, blinking a few more times as his eyes focused.

Bucky said simply, “You were betrayed.” His time in HYDRA had taught him that it was best to be honest and blunt where he could be. Sugarcoating the facts helped no one but himself. “Natasha and Steve got you back, but you were drugged. You’ve been sleeping it off.”

“You?”

He shrugged. “You missed your check-in. I got worried.”

Sam fixed him with as fierce as a glare as he could manage at the moment, which wasn’t very. Bucky bit back a smile. “Not cleared.”

“Nope,” Bucky agreed. “But that I wasn’t gonna leave my best guys behind, now, was I?”

“Coulda handled it.”

“Yeah, but you’ll never have to, as long as I’m around.”

Sam rolled his eyes, wincing when the motion twinged what was likely a headache. “Tony?”

Bucky nodded over at Tony on Sam’s other side, helping him to shift onto his side when Sam tried to look at him. “He hasn’t woken up yet. Natasha said the doctor she found thought it might affect you differently.”

Sam curled around Tony, who, as though summoned by Sam’s touch, made a soft noise, though his eyes didn’t open. Bucky sighed relievedly. He wouldn’t deny that he’d been worried when Sam had woken first and Tony had kept sleeping, even though he’d been assured multiple times that both of them were fine.

“Lay down wit’ us,” Sam murmured, already starting to drift off to sleep again. “Stay.”

And he should tell him no. He should refuse and tell him that he and Tony both needed to get their rest and that he wouldn’t be helping any if he stayed and slept beside them. But Sam was asking, and Bucky had never been able to deny either of his lovers anything, not since the very first time they showed up at his safehouse and asked him to come home.

“Okay,” he said, letting Sam’s hand slip out of his. He walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in on Tony’s other side, sandwiching him between the two of them. Sam’s hand was resting on Tony’s stomach, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Bucky let his own hand fall on top of Sam’s. Lulled by the sounds of Sam and Tony’s soft breaths, his eyes drifted closed as he drifted off to sleep. Everything was okay. Sam and Tony were here, and they were safe.

They were okay.

#winterironfalcon #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please reblog

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tarnishedxknight · 1 year

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Carter wrung her hands together - her heart fluttering in her chest as she settled next to Basch. Her mind spun as she tried to figure out how to break the news to him, and was unable to completely hide her hopeful yet nervous smile. As excited and uncertain as she was about the news, she still felt... bad that he hadn't been and to attend her appointment. It was something neither of them could control, with her being unable to reschedule and him needing to go on that mission, but she silently hoped the news wouldn't bother him further.

"The- the appointment went- went well," she began, doing her best to keep her tone casual, and gently took Basch's hand in both of hers, if only to stop her own fidgeting. "But it- it got me think-thinking... when- when do you think we- we should start getting- getting what we- we need? I- I mean, we have- have time, but... it- it might not hurt to- to figure out cribs, at- at least."

((uwu))

Basch didn’t like being made to break his promises. Especially to the one he loved. The one having his baby. That was no small thing at all. He had promised Carter to go with her on all her doctor appointments, since she seemed to very much want him to, and here they were only two or three appointments in... and he was already missing one.

The order came last minute, a priority mission that required immediate attention, with Natasha and Steve already out on another one. Steve... wanted Basch there. Tony wasn’t going to manage himself, at least not in a fully responsible fashion, and Basch was a decent voice of reason Steve trusted. He knew Basch had many years of experience managing a team and although he may not have been the leader of the Avengers, he was a solid fallback for when Steve and/or Natasha were otherwise unavailable.

Basch... could not refuse his captain, even though he really wanted to. Breaking the news to Carter had been difficult, and with her unable to change her appointment at the last minute, Basch could only beg her forgiveness, apologize, and wish her well with her day. It hurt... for he not only wanted to be there for her, but he also wanted to be there for himself. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of this journey with her.

The mission went well, with minimal deviation from the plan by his teammates. Basch actually enjoyed the few times he got to lead rather than follow. It was what he preferred personally and what he naturally fell into with regard to team dynamics. But through it all, in the back of his mind, was that he was failing Carter. The moment the quinjet touched down, Basch was taking care of all mission debriefing responsibilities, filling out the proper forms, and checking with everyone on the team to make sure they were good with everything that had happened, before making a beeline for Carter’s room.

He was relieved to hear that the appointment went well, and he apologized yet again. “I am truly sorry for being remiss in my duties to you...” he said as if he’d failed the world. “I assure you I would much have rather to be by your side today.” As she went on, he realized that they hadn’t really prepared much for the baby yet. Different cultures had different things they liked to do, or not, while expecting a child. Some liked to prepare as much as possible, to be ready when the baby came. But some preferred to do nothing at all, for it was seen as bad luck to even speak much about a child until it was actually born. Basch didn’t know where Carter fell in all of that, and he realized he had yet to discuss it with her.

“If it is alright with you to prepare for the baby’s arrival, then I have no objections,” he said, but after a moment, he smirked. “Does the baby need more than one crib?” Had she simply misspoken or was there a reason why more than one was needed, he wondered? But then the smile left his face and he looked very nearly startled. “Are you... carrying more than one child?” His heart began to race with the possibility of... twins. Like Noah and I... “How... How could you know that?”

#starcchild #basch x carter #{ knightly avenger } ᵐᶜᵘ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ #{ah the wonders of modern medical science basch my boy heh}#tw: pregnancy

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nonbinarylowkey · 2 years

Text

dinner and diatribes

Summary: You were a chef—a damn good one, if you did say so yourself, but still just a chef. So how was it you ended up playing pretend wife to Loki at a Hydra recruitment event?

Word Count: 15,873

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Note: This is an edited version of a fic I wrote in 2020. This version has a completely rewritten ending. The original is no longer on tumblr, but it is still up on ao3. Divider by @firefly-graphics.

The chip in the polish of the long wooden meeting table you sat at was fascinating.

Truly.

There were so many things to wonder about: who did it, why did they do it, when did they do it?

Fascinating.

You picked at the damaged spot with the nail of your index finger.

“Seriously, you won’t even consider it?”

Or maybe the chipped polish just provided a convenient momentary distraction from the conversation you were trying very hard not to have just then.

Tony Stark sat across from you. He slouched in his cushy office chair, one arm propped up on the table, his face propped up on the hand attached to that arm. The beginnings of a frown graced his lips and his eyes were narrowed, though you couldn’t tell if he was glaring at you or just squinting. He didn’t look angry; just frustrated. Still, you weren’t an expert on reading people’s expressions. It’s not like you were a spy or anything.

You were a chef; a damn good one, if you had anything to say about it, but still just a chef.

“Hello?” Tony drummed the fingers of his other hand on the table.

Whoops. There you went, distracting yourself again. You kept picking at the chipped polish, although this time you kept your eyes up.

“Look, I’ll pay you five times what you make working around here if you agree to do this,” he said.

“It isn’t about the money,” you huffed. “Aren’t there, like, ten Avengers now? Why can’t any of you do this? You’re all more qualified than I am. Hell, Natasha is actually a spy isn’t she? Why not send her?”

“Because Loki won’t go with her,” Steve chimed in. He leaned over the table a bit, both palms resting flat on its surface. He’d been so quiet until now, you’d almost forgotten he was in the room. “He refuses to go with anyone except you.”

“Loki?” You asked. Your next blinks came faster in your confusion. “You’re sending Loki on a mission?”

“He wants to atone for New York, he’s gotta work for it,” Steve shrugged.

For his part, Tony looked a bit more irritated. Clearly, not everyone was happy about this.

“Yeah, and so far he hasn’t put much work in at all,” he grumbled. “Jerk probably doesn’t want to atone for a damn thing.”

“You haven’t given him a chance, Tony. He’s under guard at all hours, he’s never allowed to leave the building, and you constantly remind him that you don’t trust him. Is he supposed to be willing to work with us like that?” Steve fumed. You wondered if he was even talking about Loki at all, or if there was a certain ex-Hydra assassin on his mind. As true as those things were for Loki, they were equally as true for Bucky. Steve turned his attention back to you. “I’m sorry we have to put this on you. Natasha was our first choice, but at this point her face is too well known. We decided to send Loki with her so he can use his illusions to hide their appearances, but he refused to go with anyone else.”

Pride bubbled up in your chest alongside the trepidation. The fact that you were the sole person to break through Loki’s shell so far made you feel special. You liked - loved, your heart whispered - Loki now that he wasn’t trying to take over the world. He was funny, interesting, and not too hard on the eyes. Still, as much as you liked Loki, that didn’t change the fact that Avengers missions tended to be… unsafe.

“What are the chances I’ll die if I do this?” You asked.

“If Reindeer Games wants to atone for New York, he’ll keep you safe.” Tony said, unconcerned with your very real concern.

“Tony!” Steve glared at him. You sort of wished Steve would punch him. “As long as you guys keep your covers intact, you’ll be fine. This is just an information gathering mission.”

You were silent for a few moments. If Tony had anything more to add, the glaring match he was having with Steve kept him from saying it.

“I’ll do it,” You said. “But I’m taking the money, Tony.”

“Fine by me; I might even give you extra for taking that little weasel off my hands for a while.”

Steve set a manila envelope on the table in front of you. “The mission details are in here. You and Loki will be going to a private party hosted by a man suspected of funding upstart Hydra factions: Christoph Rohr. Everyone else in attendance will be people he’s trying to recruit or people he’s already recruited. We want you two to get as much information about his operation as you can.”

“So we’ll be posing as wannabe Nazis?”

“You’ll be posing as a married couple Rohr has pegged as wannabe Nazis,” Steve said. “There’s a difference.”

“If we’re not wannabe Nazis, why did he peg us as wannabe Nazis?” You asked. Some act of divine mercy kept your attention off of the idea of pretending to be married to Loki. You could sort your feelings about that out when you were alone; the wannabe Nazi thing was the more important issue here.

“You are wannabe Nazis, you’re not wannabe Nazis, who cares,” Tony said, deciding that he’d been silent for long enough. “But everyone there is either a full blown Nazi or a wannabe Nazi and anyone who doesn’t like Nazis wasn’t invited so just keep that in mind when you decide on your cover story.”

“Look," Steve chimed in, "You don’t like Nazis, I don’t like Nazis. No one in this building likes Nazis. Sometimes, to get anything done, you have to pretend to be a Nazi. This is one of those times. Can you do it?”

“You never have to pose as a Nazi. You just punch Nazis,” you pointed out.

“The next time we bring a Hydra Nazi in for questioning, I’ll let you punch the Nazi. Sound good?” Steve sighed.

“Brilliant,” you grinned.

The mission started a week later. It would last a day and a half assuming everything went as planned. You prayed everything went as planned. Maybe even better than planned if it got you out of there sooner.

You jumped when a heavy knock landed on your door. Your jewelry clattered to the floor.

"Shit," you muttered, scrambling to pick up your ring. You shoved it on and shakily made your way to answer the knock.

On the other side of the door was a man you didn’t recognize. Not at first, anyway. In place of long, curly, black hair was short, blond hair that just started to curl at the tips where the product he put in couldn’t quite hold it back. The angles of his face were softer than you were used to, and there was a look to him that said that he was happier; less worn out by the stresses of his life. The suit was new, too, although you suspected that was less part of the disguise and more because Loki was the sort of person who never wore the same suit twice. His eyes were the same blue they always were.

And that smile. The one that always seemed to hold a thousand secrets in its curve. The one that both laughed at and with you whenever it appeared. You knew that smile anywhere; only one person in your life had one like it.

“Well, how do I look?” Loki asked, spreading his arms wide. He turned to give you the full view of his disguise.

“I miss the long hair, but Laing doesn't look half bad,” you joked.

Robert Laing was Loki’s new identity for the next thirty six hours—a physiologist who had previously worked at a medical school in London. You were his wife, a chef for the catering company employed by his school. The two of you met while you were working the school's staff Christmas party and you'd been in love ever since. The desire for a change of pace led to the two of you packing up and moving to New York. A few weeks ago one of Laing's coworkers from London happened to mention one of Rohr’s events; one thing led to another, now you were about to attend one of Rohr's parties. Because you were a wannabe Nazi. Or at least that was the story you were going with. The true story of the invitation’s acquisition was a mystery to you.

Why did you agree to do this?

Loki's smile grew predatory as he looked you over. You wore a forest green evening gown that shimmered with tiny gold flecks across the whole thing. The front of your hair was braided together to form a sort of crown while the rest fell down your back in tight curls. A thin gold chain with a single pearl hung around your neck and a simple gold band sat on your ring finger to match the one Loki wore.

"Mrs. Laing looks rather ravishing herself. I may have to keep you when we're through with this,” Loki said.

"If I knew all it took to catch your attention was putting on a fancy dress, I might have done it earlier," you step out of your apartment, bold flirtation pushing away some of the sour fear that threatened to settle in your stomach.

"I assure you, my attention was caught long before now. The dress assures me that I was right to allow you to catch it," he held an arm out for you. "Shall we?"

Your anxiety held itself at bay for the first fifteen minutes of the drive to your destination.

You reread the file Steve gave you; you’d read it a thousand times before by that point and still, it didn’t feel like enough. But in the moment between finishing one page and beginning the next your mind wandered to a fragile little star hanging on an equally fragile chain in a bedside drawer.

After that the dam breaks.

Maybe it just cracked. Or maybe it didn't matter what the damage to that metaphorical dam was. Maybe all that mattered was that it was damaged and that you couldn't stop yourself from dropping the file. You couldn't stop your breathing from going harsh or your hands from shaking or a tear from rolling down your cheek.

You felt sick.

Loki looked up from his own book just in time to see the tear before it soaked into the fabric of your dress.

"Are you crying?" He asked, shocked and perhaps a bit incredulous at your sudden onslaught of emotions.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said, wiping away the tears. You had to muster all of your willpower to keep more from falling. By some miracle, it was enough. The tears dried up, leaving a lump in your throat that you struggled to swallow around. “This is just a lot more than I signed up for when Tony hired my little catering company to feed the compound, y’know? I guess I’m just overwhelmed,” you prayed he wouldn't push for more.

Then you prayed that maybe he'd just read your mind—he could do that, right?—so that he knew what was going on with you without you having to say anything. Because you wanted him to know. If you were to be partners on this mission, if you were to be friends outside of this mission… Well, he deserved to know, didn't he? He did. But the place your emotions came from was too deep to summon the words.

You met Loki's gaze. He looked at you with an intense curiosity that made you uncomfortable. You looked away again, this time setting your sights out the window beside you. It felt like minutes passed in silence. Minutes of staring out the windshield counting every tree, reading every license plate; minutes of doing anything to avoid thinking about your fears. In reality it had been seconds.

"I would never have mentioned you if I believed those sorry excuses for heroes would allow a civilian to come on this mission," Loki said. His voice had a hard edge to it. He picked at the skin of his palm.

"I'm not blaming you," you said. You still refused to look at him. "I could've said no. I just… I guess I didn't think about what I was saying yes to."

"What did you think you were saying yes to?"

"Well, Steve offered to let me punch the next Hydra Nazi taken into Avengers custody. Tony offered me money. Enough to pay all my bills for like… three months? So I was thinking of those things.”

In a moment of boldness you added: “Pretending to be your wife sounded pretty fun, too.”

Oh, there was that predatory grin of Loki’s again; just as menacing on Laing's face as it was on Loki's. He scooted closer so that your thighs were pressed together. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Heat crept up your cheeks to dry the remainder of your tears.

"You were faced with something that terrified you, and chose to go along with it because being my wife sounded fun? Oh, I will be keeping you when this is over."

His arm tightened around you, like he was already keeping you even though the mission hadn’t even begun. In a way, you supposed that at least tonight, whether anything changed between the two of you later on, you were his for the keeping. Well, really, you were Laing’s, but Laing was just a cover for Loki so it was the same as being Loki’s, right?

You jabbed a finger into his ribs and huffed, “It wasn’t just that. And, anyway, I said pretending might be fun.”

And then you leaned into him, face buried in his chest. This was the closest you’d ever come to outright telling Loki you were in love with him. As embarrassed as you were, you didn’t regret it. The comfort you got out of this man was strange; he’d almost destroyed New York for the purpose of taking over the world, his very existence threatened to invalidate large parts of your belief system. Yet, the thought of not having him around terrified you more than any of that.

Loki’s fingers skimmed across the bare skin of your shoulder. His breath ruffled the top of your hair as he leaned in.

“I will not allow any harm to come to you," he murmured.

You looked up at him with wide eyes and, in your most serious voice, you said, "Loki, I don't think anyone is going to ask your permission before hurting me."

"What a cheeky little wife I have," Loki pinched your side. You squealed, squirming away from his prodding fingers. "Whatever will I do with you?"

"Pretend wife," you reminded him, settling back into his side once his pinching fingers settled down once more.

"For now," he said.

The tops of your ears went hot, "You can't just say things like that. You're the God of Lies, remember? How am I supposed to know if you're being serious or if you're just messing with me?"

"You don't believe that I am a god, do you?"

"Even if I don't believe you're a god, there's got to be a reason people call you that," you shrugged. Some of the good mood you'd started to feel died down again. Joking around with Loki had done wonders to take your mind off of your fears, but this particular topic brought the negativity simmering to the surface again.

What if Loki was just messing with you? Were you about to enter a party full of Nazis for someone who didn't care as much as he led on?

Your vision went blurry. Dread clawed at your stomach. Shame welled up in your chest. Shame at what, though? At getting so worked up over your own fears? Or was it the fears themselves? The thought that maybe Loki was living up to his title; that going on this mission would be more dangerous than you had been told, was that what shamed you? There was an awareness somewhere in the back of your mind that allowing your thoughts to spiral like this was a very bad idea. The problem was, you didn’t know how to make them stop. You were never very good at handling anxiety at the best of times, and half an hour away from stepping foot into a group of Nazis was not one of the best of times. What were you supposed to—

“Stop,” Loki grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his eyes. His grip was firm enough that moving away was impossible. The tips of his fingers glowed on your skin. His magic was warm and traveled through your body, calming the physical symptoms of your anxiety down before you worked yourself up any further. “Stop,” he said again, softer this time. “Whatever lies I may have told in the past, whatever reputation for lies I may have, I am not lying to you now.”

You took a shaky breath. Muttered, "You might be lying about that."

"I am not," he moved his hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb. "Consider that the man who named me God of Lies was the same man who lied to me for millennia about my true parentage. Consider, then, the weight you bestow upon that title."

Loki grinned. It wasn't the predatory one this time. It was softer, more sincere. On Laing's face it didn't provide the intended comfort. It was nonsensical, you knew that; Laing's face was almost no different from Loki's usual face. A few minor differences, but to anyone who knew him, it was undeniable that this was Loki. You tugged at a lock of his short hair, displeased that you couldn't play with it at this length. You wanted your real friend, not your fake husband.

"Can you turn back into yourself until we get there?" You asked.

Green light washed over him. When it faded, Laing had been replaced by Loki. “Better?”

You nodded. You stared at him, using his familiar features to center yourself. You buried one hand in his hair, tugging and twisting the curls around your fingers. Loki held your gaze. He continued to lazily stroke his thumb across your cheek until you closed your eyes. You took a deep, steadying breath.

“Better,” you sighed on the exhale.

The rest of the drive was calmer after that. Loki kept you talking, which kept you from focusing on any triggering topics. He told you about the current goings on of New Asgard (some sort of land dispute between New Asgard and the Norwegian government was the big news right now). You told him about your idea to start a vlog to make a little extra cash (you wanted to do a series where you would teach the Avengers your favorite recipes and they would teach you theirs). By the time the car pulled up to your destination, you felt confident enough that you could, at least, walk into the building without bursting into tears.

You moved to open the door, but Loki grabbed your hand before you reached the handle. When you looked back at him, Laing had returned. He was no longer smiling. Dread threatened to bubble up to ruin all the progress Loki helped you make in moving past your fear.

"Once we are in there, do not speak to anyone unless I am at your side. Do not leave my side unless it is necessary and do not go digging for information," he said. His tone left no room for argument.

"How am I supposed to help you with the mission if I can't dig for information? That's the point of us being here," you argued anyway.

Loki lifted his other hand. The tips of his fingers were glowing with magic again.

"I need only touch them to look inside their minds. I will not have you risk yourself more than you already have by being here when I can accomplish our mission so easily."

"What, you think these guys are just going to let you walk around randomly touching them?" You narrowed your eyes. "Plus, don't you think it'll be suspicious when your fingers start glowing?"

Loki mimicked your suspicious expression. A smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth, giving his mimicry a distinctly condescending feel.

“Mortals do change customs at an alarmingly quick pace, but handshakes are still in fashion, yes?” He lifted your hand to his lips. Featherlight kisses ghosted across your knuckles made you shiver and broke down the little bit of resistance you’d managed to muster up.

“Yes,” you sighed. It wasn't as though you wanted to spend much time socializing with the Nazis, anyway. If Loki was giving you a way out of it, you weren't going to put up too much of an argument.

The party was in an upscale hotel, one much too expensive for you to ever stay in under normal circumstances. Everything looked too fragile and pristine. It set your teeth on edge. Hundreds of people seemed to be in attendance, and more still filed in behind you. A private affair, but not an intimate one. Your heart rate picked up. Loki's hand went to the small of your back to rub light, calming circles into your skin through the fabric of your dress.

"Enjoy your evening," the doorman said, drawing your attention away from the throngs of people. He handed the invitation back to Loki, who led you further into the ballroom with his arm still around your waist.

A string quartet playing covers of modern pop songs was seated towards the back of the room. A few people had taken to the dancefloor; most were seated at tables placed along the edges. There were no signs that this was a party filled with Nazis. If you tried hard enough, you thought you might be able to forget about that. Buffet tables lined the side walls and a sizable bar was set in the corner at the end of one of the tables. There was a stage with a podium at the front of the dancefloor, although it was unoccupied at that moment.

Loki steered you in the direction of the bar.

“I’m not a huge fan of alcohol,” you protested.

“Tonight you will be,” Loki said. “You need to loosen up.”

You feared loosening up might do more harm than good. Loose lips were the last thing either of you needed. Not that tense fear was going to do you any favors, either. “Where should we sit?”

“You can sit with us,” a voice said from behind you.

Loki’s arm kept you from jumping ten feet in the air. You both turned. An older man who looked to be in his late 70s with thin gray hair and large jowls smiled at you. There was nothing outright sinister about his smile, but something about it made your skin crawl. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that this person was a Nazi.

Yeah, that was it.

“Peter Woodard,” the man held his hand out for a shake. “I haven’t seen you two here before. Are you some of Chris’ new friends?”

“Robert Laing,” Loki—no, Robert; you needed to start thinking of him with that name to avoid a slip up—shook Peter’s hand with a dazzling grin that showed off his pearly whites. “And this is my wife, Charlotte." Apparently you were getting a fake name, too. Would you even remember that after a few drinks? "We’re certainly hoping to be his new friends by the end of the night.”

“Ah, well, I’m afraid Chris tends not to mingle on the first night. He feels its best not to waste energy on those who can’t even commit a full twenty four hours to the cause. You’ll get the chance to speak to him at tomorrow morning’s events, though. From the sounds of it, you’re not from around here. What brings you to the area?”

“You’re quite right that I’m not from around here. Charlotte grew up nearby. After a few years together in London, we decided to move here to be closer to her family.”

Until that moment you had been standing about half a step behind Loki—no, Robert; dammit you needed to get that right—to keep the attention off of you. But Robert nudged you forward so that you were nestled at his side while he talked about you. Alcohol was starting to sound nice right then.

“Well, you made a good choice. It’s a nice neighborhood we’ve got here; there’s not too many liberals in this neck of the woods,” Peter said. He gestured to a table on the opposite side of the room. “My own wife is waiting for me over there, so I’ll let you get your drinks. Do feel free to sit with us; I’d love to get to know the both of you better.”

As he walked away, you turned back to the bar. Loki's arm slid from your waist. He twined his fingers through yours, careful to always be touching you; to be right there to pull you back if you got lost in your own head. He leaned into you, nose pressed into your hair, his lips brushing the tip of your ear. To anyone who looked at the two of you, it was a husband giving a bit of affection to his wife.

"He is a close friend of Rohr's, but his involvement with Hydra is minimal. I suspect we won't learn more than we already know from him, however... " he whispered, trailing off at the end. Still, you knew what he was getting at.

"Sticking with him might lead us right to the man who knows everything," you turned your head so your noses brushed together.

"Exactly," he took your free hand, too. "If interacting with them is more than you can handle, I will not force you. I will make your excuses; you can go to our room. You will be safe there."

"You said you would protect me here. I trust you" you said.

"Earlier you were convinced I would only lie to you."

The bartender cleared her throat before you answered. You looked at her to find her looking down at the counter. She shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the display of affection the two of you put on. Loki ordered for you; something fruity and sweet. Layers of pink and yellow alternated in the glass, topped with an orange umbrella, and a slice of pineapple on the rim. It looked like it held the promise of better things.

How nice would it be if this could truly wipe away your fears? How nice would it be, if a few glasses of this could turn you into someone new, someone rich and comfortable and careless; how nice it would be, you thought, if a few drinks could change everyone else, too.

Before going to the table, you raided the buffet. Like the hotel itself, some of the foods were far too expensive to ever be available to you. Even the dishes you were familiar with used higher quality ingredients than you could ever hope to match in your own cooking, both personal and professional.

Such lavish choices helped you to buy into the story the drink was meant to sell.

By the time you finished raiding the buffet, you had two over full plates just for yourself, and your glass was empty. The alcohol left a bitter feeling in the back of your throat. It felt less like the promise of an easier night and more like a portend of things to come. Still, Loki insisted on another glass.

“Smile and drink,” he whispered. So you did.

"Glad you decided to join us!" Peter said as you approached the table. He put his arm around the woman sitting next to him. "This is my wife, Ilene."

"Nice to meet you," you said. Even getting that out felt like a win.

Ilene gave you an odd look. She was squinting at you, like her vision had chosen that exact moment to fail her. After a moment, her eyes went wide. That made the tight lipped smile she gave you all the more awkward. She said nothing, even when she nodded to acknowledge that you had spoken.

You shoved a forkful of food into your mouth. That small interaction took what little wind you had right out of your sails. Under the table, Loki threaded his fingers through yours and squeezed. The weight of his hand did little to comfort you, but you supposed in a situation like this small comforts were the only thing you could hope for. You wished you could ask him what he thought of the exchange with Ilene. Had you done something wrong? Did you somehow blow your cover already? She could have been taken aback by the amount of food you had in front of you, but—no, she was looking at your face. You squeezed Loki's hand a bit tighter.

Ilene continued to stare at you with that same tight lipped smile.

"How did the two of you hear about Chris’ little venture?” Peter asked, either oblivious to or ignoring his wife’s discomfort.

“A colleague of mine in London was invited to one of these parties a while back. When he heard we’d moved to the area, he arranged for our invitation. He thought it would be a good way to meet some… like-minded people,” Loki winked. It was unfair how attractive he was even while implying that the two of you were Nazis looking for other Nazi friends.

Unease flipped painfully in your stomach.

"Your colleague wasn’t wrong. Everyone here is of the same mindset—anyone with different opinions, well… let’s just say they’d find themselves quickly overwhelmed, if they somehow managed to find themselves with an invitation in the first place. Even if you don’t leave here as a formal member of the organization, you’re certain to have made quite a few like-minded friends. That’s why I come to these little shindigs,” Peter said jovially, like what he was saying was the most normal thing in the world.

You took a sip of your drink to cover your laugh. Chris needed to reevaluate his invitee screening system if the Avengers were considered “like-minded friends” to Hydra. Loki let go of your hand to pinch your thigh. If it weren’t for the fact that you had an audience, you would have stuck your tongue out at him. Instead, you peered up over your cup to make sure no one thought your behavior was strange.

Ilene was still staring at you.

You took a bigger gulp of your drink.

The conversation was normal after that. No talk about Nazi subjects or anything that made you feel too awkward. For the most part, it was just your average everyday small talk. Loki talked about being a physiologist and teacher, you added a comment or two about your catering business, and Peter talked about the construction company he owned. Ilene said very little; she nodded or faked a laugh at something her husband said. Most of the time she kept her eyes glued to her plate, except when she gave you more wide eyed stares.

Part of you felt like this was somehow cheating. You weren’t doing much in furtherance of the mission you’d been sent on by not talking about Hydra at all. But Loki was the real Avenger; if he thought talking to Peter with the hope he would lead the two of you straight to Rohr satisfied the mission goal, well, who were you to argue?

You allowed yourself to become distracted by the activity around you after a while of utterly normal conversation. Each table was doing the same as your table. A few seemed to be having more serious discussions than the majority. You assumed those were the people getting down to Nazi business and making all of their Nazi plans. Some people were making rounds across the room; introducing themselves to everyone they thought was important, ensuring their name was known by all the important Hydra people in the room. More people were on the dance floor by then. You wondered if Loki would want to dance.

By the stage, some people were shuffling around with sound equipment. A tall, blond man stood up on the platform. He watched the people setting up with a frown. There was a microphone in his hand.

“That’s Chris,” Peter said, drawing your attention back to the table. “Looks like it’s just about time for his speech. You’ll love it; he’s one of the best speakers I’ve ever known.”

You nodded. Loki rubbed a hand along your back. A surge of warmth flowed through you as his hand moved; the same magic he’d used to keep you calm in the car, you thought. It was a good thing, too. There was no way Rohr himself would minimize Nazi talk in his speech to his fellow Nazis. Better that Loki helped to keep your anxiety to a minimum before it had the chance to get started.

Even without the physical symptoms of your anxiety, though, Loki couldn’t stop your brain from moving a mile a minute. How would you react to the speech? What if he said something you couldn’t just ignore? Were you going to blow your cover because you couldn’t act? If you did blow your cover, what would the Avengers think of you? Would you be able to face them at work again? More than what the Avengers in general thought, what would Loki think if you blew the mission because you couldn’t keep your emotions in check?

If you blew your cover, would you even make it out alive?

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you forgot to pay attention to the world around you. So when Loki pulled your chair closer to his own to hold you against his chest, you jumped.

“Relax,” he whispered into your hair.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, letting them sit against your stomach. You did your best to relax against him. He gave a small hum of approval.

Was this normal Asgardian behavior? You knew for a fact that for human married couples, it wasn’t normal to get this affectionate in public. Or maybe it was just a Loki-specific behavior. Or maybe this was normal married couple behavior and you just didn’t know any normal marr—No. You needed to stay focused. You forced yourself to ignore the other people at the table; a futile effort. Heat crawled up your chest to the tips of your ears. Your awareness of everyone seeing this display wouldn’t back down; maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this wasn’t normal behavior, but the attention—even if it was just imagined attention—gave you something to focus on that wasn’t the impending Nazi speech.

"Thank you all for being here tonight. It means so much to me and all of the fine people who helped me organize this event to see you," Rohr said, cutting through the low murmur that had been ever present throughout the room. All eyes went to him.

There went your distraction from the Nazi speech.

Rohr pressed on, "You were all invited here for a purpose: to bring the world back to where it should be. You all understand what the world needs to prosper!"

You swallowed hard around a lump in your throat; fought the urge to close your eyes and block out the rest of the speech. That speech was the main event of the night. You couldn’t risk prying your attention away in such an obvious way. Loki tightened his arms around you. The sensation of his touch gave you something else to focus on. You squeezed his hands, still resting on your stomach.

Overall, the speech was uninformative as far as your mission went; it seemed to be aimed at inflaming emotions rather than calling the audience to a specific action. He likely saved the real calls to action for tomorrow, when the heavy duty recruitment began. Still, by the end you felt like crawling out of your skin. The whole speech was filled with Nazi dogwhistles; talk of needing to embrace tradition and turn away from modernity, claims that a certain group of people were secretly controlling the world through the banks, and funding the spread of communism.

Peter Woodard was wrong.

You did not love hearing Rohr speak.

It was a miracle that you didn't vomit halfway through the speech. You felt shaky. You hoped you weren’t outwardly shaking. Something felt like it was crawling around in your stomach. You wanted to beg Loki to get you out of there, to not make you go back even if it meant the mission was a failure. Before you had the chance, the music started up again. Loki shot out of his seat.

"I'd like to dance with my wife at least once before we leave," Loki said.

"O-okay," you stuttered.

He half-dragged you across the room, his grip so firm you had no choice but to let him. The sudden desire to dance baffled you. Sure, you had wondered if he might want to, but until that moment he hadn't given any indication that he did.

You turned your head to see if the Woodards had any reaction to Loki’s strange behavior. What had you expected of them? You weren't quite sure; a look of confusion, an aborted attempt to speak to the two of you as you walked away, maybe; just something that indicated they were caught off guard by your sudden departure. Yet when you looked back their attention was still directed towards the stage. Even Ilene, who had made such a point of staring at you all night, was no longer watching you. Stranger still, they seemed… cheerful.

A hand shot out to grab your chin, yanking your face forward. On instinct, you tensed up to resist, but Loki was stronger. All you got for your effort was a jolt of pain up your neck.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he demanded. A smarter person might have heard the imperiousness in his tone and ceded to his directions. You were not that person. You stood a little straighter, and shoved at his hands.

“You know, a gentleman would ask his wife to dance instead of— Ugh!” You huffed. The problem with Loki, you came to realize, was that he tended to say things in a way that triggered a person’s fight or flight response, even when the substance of his words had merit.

His command, of course, was no exception.

And so, you fought against the grip he had on your chin and turned your head to look back at the table. You didn't think looking would accomplish anything; you just did it because Loki told you not to.

Regret was not an adequate word for the feelings looking inspired in you.

“Would my wife care to dance, or shall we break bread with Christoph Rohr himself?” Loki kept his voice remarkably neutral.

You’d expected more of a mocking tone.

You turned away from the sight of the night’s host Nazi standng at the table you just vacated. Loki took your hands in his again, pulling you the rest of the way onto the dancefloor. Your brain felt numb. Your heart felt numb. The rest of your body was sore from the constant tension it had been holding all night.

How close had you come to having to speak to someone who just gave a speech about how the world would be better off without the very group of people you belonged to? From somewhere outside of your own body, you felt Loki adjusting your position to one appropriate for dancing.

Dancing.

How could you dance among these people; these people who believed in the ideals and words espoused here tonight?

“Stay with me,” Loki murmured.

His touch was soft and helped to reground you in the moment. He kept his thumb and index finger on your chin and this time, you did not fight his hold.

You nodded, swallowing around the dryness that had overtaken your mouth. Following that instruction would be easier said than done, but you tried.

Loki looked at you. Then, he dropped his hand from your chin to rearrange your position once more. When he was done, you stood diagonal to him, so that your left shoulder was parallel to his. The corresponding arms were held at ninety degree angles with your hands pressed together, palm to palm.

"I might step on your toes," you said.

"Have you forgotten that your husband is a god, darling?" he asked. He nudged your hand to indicate the direction he wanted you to step. "You may step on me; it will not hurt. This will be a simple dance, one to keep your mind off of more unpleasant things."

The dance was slow. Throughout it, Loki kept you pressed close even when you were certain the dance would be easier with more space between you. The warmth of his hands made you feel secure so you said nothing about your suspicions.

"When did you learn to dance?" You asked.

He twirled you under his arm.

"I was a prince of Asgard," he sighed, a laugh forming on the end of his exhale. When you were facing him once again, he dipped you low, and brought you back up slowly. His arms remained firm around you the whole time.

"I almost forget about that sometimes," you said, feeling ridiculous as the words left your mouth. “You manage to fit in so well with regular people…”

“I suspect most of Asgard tended to forget about that, as well,” he said with a levity at odds with the substance of his words.

“Loki, that’s terrible.”

Loki shrugged, and grinned, “Oh, but how else could I have so meticulously honed my craft? A prince of Asgard always has the realm’s eyes upon him. To be unthought of, even for a moment, no matter how that moment came to be, is an opportunity one should not let pass.”

"I wish an opportunity like that would come around right now."

"It has, my darling. There are no eyes on you, save mine. So dance with me, and think no more on these miserable wretches around us.”

That was easier said than done; true or not, you felt eyes watching your back—judging, knowing eyes. Eyes that would tear you to shreds in an instant if they had the chance.

You fell silent for the rest of the dance. When Loki noticed your mind or eyes wandering back to the table, or to the circumstances of the night, he whispered "stay with me." And when his eyes shone with such brilliant intensity, you couldn’t fathom doing anything else.

The song ended and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His hands fell to your hips, where his thumbs rubbed small circles.

"Our companions for the evening have left," he whispered. "Shall we make our own exit now—see what expensive accommodations Stark so generously arranged for us tonight?"

"That sounds wonderful."

What. The. Hell, you thought.

The hotel room was ridiculous. In fact, calling it a room was a complete lie. With two bathrooms, a kitchen, a combined dining-living room, and two bedrooms there were more rooms in this suite than there were in your apartment.

Loki watched you from the position he'd taken up on the couch. His feet were up on the coffee table and his arms were draped over the back of the couch. He was comfortable in the space you'd been given for the night; maybe even a little bored. He still wore the face of Robert Laing. You paid him little attention. From one room to another, you paced. You paused to open a door tucked away in the corner of the room ‐ oh, look! A half-bath was hidden behind that door!

"We're only staying here for one night!" You yelled. You stormed back into the living room to jab your finger in Loki's direction. "Why aren't you more concerned about Tony renting us a whole apartment for one night?"

"If the size of these accommodations concern you, it is for the best that Asgard was destroyed before I could whisk you away to my chambers for our wedding night."

The wicked grin on his face brought your pacing to a grinding halt. For a moment you'd forgotten about the whole fake-marriage-that-Loki-claimed-he-was-going-to-make-real thing. Your hand fell back to your side and your face went hot.

"The Laings' wedding night was like… three years ago," you muttered.

When you looked up again, Loki was standing mere inches away. "Hmm… I'm afraid I don't recall. Perhaps Mrs. Laing would refresh my memory?"

You slapped your hands over your face so you wouldn't have to see that glint in Loki's eyes. What were you even supposed to say to something like that? He tugged on a lock of your hair to get you to look back up at him. His smug, toothy grin was still in place. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at the sight of it.

"Is my little wife embarrassed?" He asked, although taunted was, perhaps, a better word for it.

"Y'know, if you're really set on making the whole wife thing real, I'd prefer if you took me on a date first," you said, adding "one without Nazis, preferably" for good measure.

He laughed. Green light shimmered across his body, wiping away the Laing facade so the real Loki stood before you. "Just as well; I, too, would prefer to give you a proper courtship, as a prince of Asgard, and the rightful king of Jotunheim should."

You groaned. Sometimes he was just so… so Loki it was overwhelming.

“Whatever you say, Your Majesty,” you bowed, with a great flourish of your hands. “I feel dirty from rubbing elbows with those guys tonight. I think I’m going to take advantage of the giant bathtub before bed. What are you gonna do with the rest of your night?”

“I could keep you company in the bath,” he teased.

Fucking hell, you thought. He’s going to be the death of me.

Except… when you took a moment to think about it, the idea wasn’t terrible. You knew he expected you to say no; knew that he was making a flirtatious joke rather than a genuine offer. Yet, the anxiety from the night still lingered in the back of your mind. The thought of being alone left you feeling ill at ease. You knew he wouldn’t retract the offer if you did say yes.

So, squaring your shoulders and doing your best to make eye contact, you said, “I wouldn’t mind the company if you really wanted to join me.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up. His eyes widened; just a bit, just enough to be noticeable. For a moment, he said nothing. Waiting for you to retract, you supposed. But when you didn't, his expression relaxed. His God of Mischief grin returned and he motioned with one hand in the direction of the bathroom that held the tub.

“After you, my dear.”

The bathroom, despite its absurd size for being a hotel suite bathroom, was normal. By which you meant there were no unrecognizable gadgets only rich people would recognize because they were the only ones who could afford to have them in their bathrooms. In fact, despite the fact that this bathroom was twice the size of the one you had at home, there was very little in it beyond the tub (which took up half the room), the toilet, and the sink. The whole room was made of expensive looking marble, probably so you wouldn’t forget that this was a space meant for the super rich people of the world.

“Do you need help with your dress?” Loki asked.

You stared at him. Did you need help with your dress? You looked down at yourself. Was there something on your dress? You looked back up at him.

He gestured to his back.

“The zipper,” he said by way of explanation.

You narrowed your eyes. Not another word left your mouth before he raised his hands in surrender.

“Peace. I will only do what is asked of me tonight.”

"Alright…" you nodded, turning your back to him so he could unzip you.

His hands were gentle. The dress dropped from your shoulders to pool around your ankles. For a moment, Loki's hands lingered on the bare skin of your back; he trailed his fingers up to the clasp of your bra. He lingered there; a silent question at the tips of his fingers.

You nodded.

He unhooked the clasp.

The undergarment went to the floor with your dress.

A rustling from behind you drew your attention. When you turned around, you found Loki undressing himself. His suit jacket and tie were already on the floor next to your dress, and he was making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Oh no.

What was he doing? What happened to not doing anything you didn't ask him to do? You supposed he had offered to keep you company in the bath, not just the bathroom, but somehow it never occurred to you that he actually would plan on bathing with you. You opened your mouth to say something to him; to stop him, maybe. Except, inconveniently, you found that your vocal cords had stopped working. Your eyes followed his hands as they opened his shirt.

“You’re drooling,” Loki said, forcing your attention back up to his face.

You slammed your mouth shut; with less discretion than you would have liked, you wiped at your mouth to get rid of any drool you may have actually let slip while you were staring.

“I didn’t think you were going to get naked, too,” you muttered.

“Did you think I was going to get into the tub fully clothed?”

A small smile adorned his face and he arched one one eyebrow. You supposed the expression was meant to show you that although you confused him, he bore you no ill will for it. It should have comforted you, you thought. Instead, a niggling sense of dread gnawed at your stomach. It must have shown on your face, too, because Loki's expression soon became more serious.

"I can read your thoughts, if I must," he said. "But I have learned that open communication makes things much easier."

You shrugged, he sighed. There was silence. Then, Loki spoke up again:

“What do you want from tonight?”

That was the question, wasn’t it?

What did you want from the night?

You forced yourself to voice your thoughts as they came to you, “I wanted to feel useful to the Avengers for more than just my cooking. I wanted the money Tony offered me. I wanted to impress you and be more than just the girl you sometimes spend time with because I cook for you and I'm the only non-Avenger in your life.”

Loki held his hand up, a signal for you to stop talking. You did.

“I do not spend time with you because you cook for me. All my life I’ve had others cook for me; never did I say more than a passing word or two to them. I speak to you because you interest me. I will admit your lack of membership on the team that formed for the specific purpose of defeating me is a remarkable boon to our relationship; however, I would not associate with just any mortal simply because they are not an Avenger. And while I appreciate hearing what you intended from the whole night, I meant: what do you want from the night going forward—while we are standing here, in the bathroom, in particular.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” you shrugged. It occurred to you that this still wasn’t really an answer to his question so you amended, “I want to be with you.”

“In the bath?”

“In general,” you shrugged again. “I’ve never done something like this; taken a bath with someone else, I mean.”

Loki stared at you for a long moment. His expression lacked any modicum of amusement now. A spark of panic flickered in your chest. Was your indecisiveness annoying him?

“I would like to see you naked,” you blurted out. It was… not your finest moment. Standing there in nothing but a pair of pink polka dotted cotton panties and all of your jewelry, having just admitted to wanting to see Loki naked in an impulsive attempt to dispel the annoyance you weren't even certain he was feeling—yeah, definitely not your finest moment.

Loki slow-blinked at you once, twice. If he were a cat, it might have been comforting. Just when you were feeling certain you would die of embarrassment, he laughed. And laughed. And then he laughed some more. Something tense and painful broke inside of you as you watched him laugh. It seeped out of you until there was nothing left of it inside of you, replaced by the infectiousness of Loki’s laughter and your own relief that he wasn’t annoyed after all. So you laughed, too, and even your embarrassment stood no chance against the force of it. The whiplash of your emotions changing so quickly throughout the night was certain to leave you sore later on, but you cared nothing about it at that moment. There was only you, Loki, and your laughter.

When he tucked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his pants, he paused.

“Together?” He asked between huffs of laughter.

You mirrored his pose, thumbs tucked into the waistband of your underwear.

“On the count of three?” You asked.

“One,” he said, by way of an answer.

“Two,” you continued.

“Three,” the two of you said together.

In one fell swoop, Loki’s pants and briefs were discarded in a pile on the floor along with your underwear. You grinned at each other and drank in the sight of the other completely nude. You expected to feel awkward in this situation. You were relieved to find, in reality, you felt nothing more than happiness; happiness that wasn’t even entirely related to the fact that Loki looked just equally good out of a suit as he did in it. It was happiness that there was someone in the world who managed to distract you from your fears and anxieties and made you feel strong enough to say what you were thinking without letting your embarrassment hold you back.

You removed your earrings and necklace, throwing them onto the sink counter, uncaring of where they landed. Loki took your hand and removed the wedding band himself; you did the same to him. He took them both, spiriting them away to one of his pocket dimensions for purposes only he was privy to. Perhaps he intended to use them for the real wedding he was planning; an incorporation of some of the false marriage into the real.

You turned to the tub, but found that while the two of you had been lost in the whirlwind of your emotions, you completely forgot to run the water for your bath.

"Oops," you giggled.

Loki, however, was unconcerned with this development. He waved his arms about theatrically. Green smoke and lights came into existence in the tub and underneath them, the sound of rushing water filled the air. When the theatrics faded, the tub was bath ready—bubbles included. Loki wasted no time in getting in and as he did, you continued to admire every beautiful inch of him from his head to his toes.

Specifically, you focused on admiring his cock.

Staring would have also been an appropriate word.

Loki cleared his throat. You looked back up at his face with heated cheeks.

"I wasn't staring," you insisted.

"Of course not," his disbelief was clear in his tone. Rather than take offense, he took the chance to openly ogle you right back. He held his arms out. "Are you coming in?"

"How do you want to do this? Do you want me to sit on the other side?"

He spread his legs, gesturing at the space between them. "I want you right here."

Of course he did.

"You may sit on the other side, if that is what you wish."

You clambered into the tub, planting your naked bottom between his naked legs and tried to ignore the feeling of other naked parts of him underneath you. He lifted his hands from the water, letting them rest on your shoulders for a moment, then dragged them lazily down once again, rivulets dripping down your arms in his fingers’ wake.

“May I?” He asked.

You nodded, a fleeting thought going through your mind that you didn’t know what he was asking to do, that he was bending his own rule by asking you for something rather than waiting for you to ask. Another thought overtook it: it didn’t matter what he was asking for—you would let him do whatever he wanted tonight.

He didn’t leave you in suspense for long. Loki grabbed the hotel soap from the side of the tub and sniffed. To you, it smelled of nothing but soap. Inoffensive and clean, and apparently unsatisfactory to Loki’s godly senses because he threw the bottle across the room into the trash, and summoned another bottle from his interdimensional space pocket. When he opened this one, it smelled floral and light. It reminded you of sunshine and spring time, and for just a moment you imagined yourself lying in a field of flowers with the Asgardian sun on your face and Loki at your side, regaling you with the most exciting tales of what went on that day in his father’s court.

The roughness of a washcloth brought you down from the daydream. Loki started with your back, then he curled himself more firmly around you and raised one of your arms so you were reaching out across the expanse of the tub. He wrapped the washcloth around the width of your arm, and slowly, slowly stretched until he had brought the cloth down the whole length of your arm. His nose was pressed into your hair, mouth against your ear; his teeth grazed your skin.

You shivered, despite the warmth of the water.

One of his hands rested atop yours, lacing your fingers together, engulfing your hand in his. His other hand set to work washing your other arm, taking up the same final position as their siblings on the opposite side. He slipped the cloth into your hand, and kept his hands on top of your own so that he could move you as he wished.

He curled your arms in, running the washcloth over your stomach.

"Where shall we wash next?" He asked, breath warm against your ear. He moved your hands so that they came just under the curve of your breast, then dipped back down again.

"Loki…" You groaned, a plea and warning in one breath.

He moved your hands lower, to your legs; made a joint effort out of washing your upper thighs, teasing at touching you more intimately, but never making a true move to do so. He meant only to tease you as he had been doing throughout the night—never taking more liberties than he was explicitly allowed, but making his interest known, but it all felt a little bit like a test to you.

So you decided to make your answer a bold one.

You brought your tangled hands up your body, stopping only when you reached your breast. With your hand underneath his, Loki barely touched you. Still, you felt his chest stutter against your back when his breath caught in his throat. He nipped at your ear.

"Just what do you think you're doing, little wife?" He asked.

"Making myself feel good," you responded, snaking the hands at your legs between your thighs.

"As I recall," he squeezed your hand, at once trying to feel more of you and keep himself under control. "You requested a first date before we did this."

"I said I wanted a first date before you married me," you corrected. "I didn't say anything about a date before you fucked me."

“And is that what you want me to do?"

Your fingers and his brushed through the curls between your legs. The washcloth floated away to the other side of the bath, forgotten. He kissed the space behind your ear, then under, and lower still, only stopping his descent when he'd kissed his way down your neck to your shoulder. Your nerves tingled under his lips and you knew you could find yourself addicted to the feeling if you were not careful. Once more, his fingers brushed against what skin they could immediately reach with your hand obstructing his access. You felt certain that if he wanted to, his fingers were long enough that he could stretch them and feel far more. The restraint was frustrating.

But you found that between soft sighs of his name and pleasured moans you could not vocalize that frustration or even an answer to his question.

Your head fell back against his shoulder.

He took the opportunity this afforded him to catch your lips with his. It was barely a brush of his lips against yours; so gentle you would have thought it was an accident were it not for the fact that the way he had to lean over to reach your mouth could only be achieved with purposeful maneuvering.

It rankled at your anxiety. Gentle was not what you needed just then. Gentle would not keep your thoughts from straying to the rest of the night and what still awaited you in the morning. You sank your teeth into his lower lip, pulled at it until he snarled and pushed his mouth harder against yours, his tongue darting out to slide against your own.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer," he said, yet did not wait for you to respond before kissing you again.

You gripped his hair, bringing him close—close enough that you felt you could become one. It was not lost on either of you that with your hand now in Loki's hair, his own was free to touch where it liked.

And yet…

“You still haven’t answered me, little wife,” he said against your lips. He lifted his hand so that it no longer touched you at all. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I thought I made myself pretty clear,” you groaned, lifting your hips in an unsuccessful attempt to get him to put his hand back between your thighs.

“But I want to hear you say it.”

"You’re so frustrating," you said.

"I am only ensuring I keep my promise," he said.

"Your promise… so if I ask you to fuck me, you will?"

Loki brushed his nose against your chin and hummed as a response. His free hand wiggled its way underneath you to give your backside a firm squeeze; you laughed into his mouth, which in turn allowed him to slide his tongue against yours, once again distracting you from asking the desired question.

You were still laughing when he pulled away.

"Loki, would you please fuck me?" You grinned up at him.

He squeezed your butt again, and said, "It would be my honor, little wife."

His hand took its place between your thighs once more; this time, he wasted no time sinking his fingers into you, slow and deep. Your breath caught in your throat as he moved, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside of you both for the unfamiliarity of it and for the pleasure you were already feeling. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit and you rocked your hips in time with the movement. Your hand still at your breast fell away to join your other hand in tugging at Loki's hair. He used this new access to your body to enhance your pleasure, too; he kneaded your breast, messaging and rolling the nipple between his fingers. His teeth and lips busied themselves at your throat, biting and sucking and doing all they could to ensure there would be a sizable mark later on.

Each breath brought a wave of heat coursing through your body; I could burn up here, you thought, burn right up and never even feel it through the pleasure Loki was giving you. With all of the sensation overtaking your body, you didn’t last very long. You came with Loki’s name on your lips, white light bursting behind your eyes.

Your mind just… floated for a bit after that. You found yourself stuck in a state of dazed pleasure that your body was in no hurry to leave, so you leaned against Loki and let yourself come slowly down from the high of your climax. Dimly, you were aware of Loki moving behind you. Washing himself, maybe, as the two of you had never gotten around to that before you’d distracted him.

"You know, you're just gonna get dirty again," you mumbled. You could feel his erection pressed against your back, a firm reminder that the night was not over yet. You grinned up at him, wiggling against him to illustrate your point.

"I'm counting on it," he said, returning your grin. "I wanted to give you a bit of time to recover."

He stood; if you were recovered enough to speak, you were recovered enough to continue the night’s activities. He lifted you as he rose, like you weighed nothing at all, and you wrapped your arms around his neck with a grin.

"My strong, handsome husband," you teased, kissing him on the cheek.

Those words stoked the fire inside of him, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. He kissed your mouth with such force, you knew if you had been standing, your knees would have gone weak and you would have been knocked over. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth, bit and licked until you were breathless and panting; your noses pushed into each other as your desire grew more frantic. You squirmed in his grasp, anticipation coursing through your veins as surely as your blood. Minutes had passed since he brought you to completion the first time—already too long; you needed him inside of you again, needed all of him this time, and you needed him now.

You shivered when he dropped you onto the bed. The sheets were too cool against your heated skin and you pulled Loki's body against yours to absorb his heat into you. He buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. His erection brushed against you, slipped through your arousal, teasing at entering you fully, but denying that which you so dearly craved.

"Fuck me," you whispered.

He groaned. He wrapped his arms around you, but still did not give in to your desires.

"Are you real?" He asked.

You kissed him, soft and sweet and he went so weak against you that you were able to flip your position; so that you straddled his hips and he laid squirming underneath you.

"I am real," you said. "And I'll prove it to you."

He grinned. You grinned back. Without hesitating a moment more, you sank yourself down onto his cock.

You moved slowly at first, needing to get used to the size and feel of him inside of you, and he respected that.

His fingers gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, but he did not rush you or pressure you into moving at any pace other than the one you dictated. He propped himself up on the headboard and pulled you closer; any space between your bodies felt like a chasm that needed to be filled. He rested his forehead at the crook of your neck and you buried your nose in his hair.

"I will protect you," he said into your skin. "No matter what happens, I will protect what's mine."

Those words encouraged you to quicken your pace, to take him deeper and rougher. You wanted to bring him so far into your body that it would be impossible to tell where he began and you ended; you wanted to absorb him, all of him, into your soul. You cursed and praised his name in the same breath, dug your nails into the skin of his back until he bled. When you came, you came together, with tears forming at the corners of your eyes, and Loki stealing your breath with another kiss.

Neither of you moved for a long while. You needed this; needed him close enough that his body felt like a natural extension of your own. When you began to shiver, Loki carefully guided you off of him and helped to lay you down in a position more conducive to rest. You sprawled out on top of him once he was down, too.

He wrapped an arm around you, tracing patterns into your skin. Neither of you said anything more for the night. You basked in the warmth of each other's presence, in the post-coital contentment that seeped through your bodies. You fell asleep to the sound of Loki's breathing and the feeling of his skin against yours and as your mind quieted, you felt truly happy for the first time that night.

You felt like your body had suddenly taken up martial arts while your mind slept. Morning light had stolen what vestiges of happiness remained and left you tense, anxious—ready to bolt at the slightest surprise. You were sore, more than even your actual nighttime physical activity could account for.

Loki’s arm pinned you to his chest. Craning your neck back to look at him revealed a bruise creeping across his sternum.

You groaned. Flashes of memory skirted the edges of your mind. Nightmares of Rohr and his associates catching you had you thrashing around throughout the night. In your dreams, your elbows and fists had landed on your captors; in reality, Loki had borne the brunt of your flailing limbs. You willed the mattress to swallow you up, to prevent you from having to face whatever the day would entail, but no such luck came to you.

You turned around and buried yourself in Loki instead.

It pleased you, at least, that he did not seem to be having nightmares of his own. He told you once, months ago, that his sleep was almost always plagued with terrifying memories—of the Mad Titan Thanos, or images of all the different ways he could have saved his mother, or worse, reenactments of his murder of Laufey, tinged with a guilt so potent, yet hidden so deep within his psyche that he could not recognize or fight against it until he finally woke so sick with it that he spent the better part of the morning losing what little bit there was in his stomach.

You kissed his neck, and tried to re-relax in his arms, but soon found that your anxiety over the coming day was growing too strong to stay idle.

“Your thoughts are deafening, little wife,” came the low rumble of his voice, pulling you from your own head.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

Loki said nothing more. He ran his knuckles up and down the length of your spine. Occasionally, his breathing grew steady enough that you thought he might have fallen back asleep. You’d attempt to get out of bed, to leave him in peace while you worked off some of your nervous energy, but each time his arm would tighten his grip and keep you right where you were.

“We have to get up.”

“Let me enjoy this time with my wife a bit longer,” he said.

His hand warmed on your back, magic seeping into your skin as it had throughout dinner last night. He kept you in bed for nearly an hour longer that way. But even his magic wasn’t enough to keep you from squirming forever.

Nearly an hour later, you were just about ready for the day. Loki wasn’t a morning person, you learned. He said little as he showered and dressed and the last dredges of exhaustion still weighed his body down as he put the finishing touches on his Laing disguise. He came up behind you as you put your earrings on. Hands went to your shoulders, then rubbed down your arms. His head came down so he could bury his face in your hair.

"Robert Laing is truly a fortunate man to wake up to a sight like this every morning," Loki said. His voice was raspy with sleep.

The sound of it sent your mind reeling with thoughts you knew there was no time to act on just then.

"Yeah, well, don't feel too jealous of Laing. Once today is done there's no way I'll ever have the money to dress like this again."

"Once today is done, my dear, you will no longer be the wife of a mortal doctor, but the lover of a God, king, and prince. There will be nothing outside of your reach," he kissed your neck, just above one of the concealed marks he left last night.

"Technically, you're not a king right now. You just have a claim to an unoccupied throne," you rolled your eyes.

He just grinned that devilish grin of his.

"You're imagining trying to take over a planet again, aren't you? I swear, Loki, you're incorrigible. You're supposed to be making up for the last time you tried to take over a planet, remember? Not planning to do it again somewhere else."

"Are you saying you don't—"

“Whatever you’re about to ask, the answer is no.”

Loki tsked, “Fear not, my shrewd little wife. I’ve no plans to go conquering again any time soon. I have managed to learn from some of my mistakes, you know.”

"Mhmm, how about you learn where to get some coffee around here. I haven't seen a room service menu and I just know I'm going to need caffeine to help me get through the day.”

“Your wish is my command,” Loki took his leave with a bow.

You putzed around the hotel room for the next few minutes, looking through all of the little cabinets and tucked away spaces it contained. Nothing interesting was hidden away—some extra linens, an ugly painting someone must have gotten sick of looking at that no one else cared to put back on the wall, typical hotel things—but looking kept your mind occupied enough that it didn’t wander anywhere unpleasant.

Until a heavy

bang

shook the door.

Loki’s name sped to the tip of your tongue; fear stopped you from giving voice to it.

There was no way that was Loki. He wouldn’t have to knock, let alone bang on the door like that. But no one else was supposed to come to your room; not as far as you were aware, at least.

Bang.

Could you just wait it out? Would whoever it was leave if you didn’t answer?

Your racing heart made breathing difficult. You wanted to tell yourself that this was no big deal—room service, maybe. Just someone coming to give you a schedule of the day's events, perhaps.

The door was in front of you before you’d even fully processed the decision to go to it. You stood on your toes to look through the peephole.

Peter and Ilene Woodard stood on the other side of the door, awaiting the answer to their knock. You took a breath, then another. Then, you opened the door.

"Peter, Ilene, what a surprise," you said, forcing as much cheerfulness into your voice as you could manage. "What brings you here?"

And how the hell can I get you to leave? you thought.

Neither of them smiled. One of Ilene’s eyes was twitching. In her hands, she clutched a folded piece of paper.

Peter looked around at the room behind you.

"Is Robert here?" He asked, as though you hadn't said a word.

Briefly, it occurred to you to say he isn’t here; maybe they were here for him and his absence would lead to their departure.

"Yes, he’s just in the other room getting ready," you lied anyway. Beyond that initial instinct to tell the truth was knowledge—knowledge you could not substantiate with anything more than an overwhelming dread that told you they were here for you. You prayed, not to Hashem, but to Loki himself. You prayed that they would believe the lie; that they would leave.

"I see," Peter sighed. He looked at someone outside of the room, just beyond your line of vision. He tilted his head in the direction of the floor’s lobby. "Find him."

That was definitely the last time you’d ever pray to Loki.

He and Ilene, along with two armed men, stepped into the room. They left the doorway open behind them, an open invitation for any of their friends to come in and join them.

Where was the nearest coffee shop? You couldn’t recall seeing one in the hotel last night. Did Loki have to leave the building entirely? Were you completely alone in a hotel filled to the brim with Hydra agents and flat out Nazis? Was there any hope that any of your friends would come to your aid—that Loki would come for you? There was no doubt in your mind that he would come for you if he could, if he knew that you needed him. And maybe he should have known not to leave you; all of your fear and anxiety—maybe he should have been more cautious about leaving you in light of how you’d been feeling. But you were the one that sent him out. You’d felt there was relative safety in this room. If not from your own racing thoughts, then at least from the people.

What if the person Peter sent after Loki caught him? Illogical as it was, you feared for his safety, too. Did they know Robert Laing was Loki? Did they have someone who could go toe to toe with him?

Tears burned your eyes. Sheer stubbornness kept them from falling, though you knew it wouldn’t take much for that resolve to fail.

"What's going on?" Your voice shook.

"We were hoping you could answer that for us, Mrs. Laing. You see, my wife recognized you last night—said that she had seen an ad for your catering company a few years back. But you were supposedly living in London at that time, weren't you?" Peter said, taking another step closer.

Ilene held out the ad.

You didn’t take it. What good would looking do? Maybe it really was an old ad of yours; maybe it wasn’t. Either way, they’d said enough for you to know there was no weaseling your way out of this.

You took another step back. Realistically, there was nowhere for you to go. They had the doorway blocked and had you outnumbered. Putting space between you and them wouldn’t do much when they finally got to the point of this.

"There must be some misunderstanding,” you tried. “What reason would Robert and I have for lying about something like that?"

"That's what I thought at first, but my Ilene was convinced. So we did some research. Do you know what we found, Mrs. Laing?" The emphasis he put on the name told you that they'd found your real name, for one thing. And if they found your real name, then they were probably able to find…

"You work for the Avengers," a voice said from behind the group. Christoph Rohr walked into the room. Two more armed men followed him. "Now, that in and of itself isn't so bad. Hydra can always use people on the inside."

You took another step back; you were certain your heart was no longer beating.

Rohr waved his hand at you, “Grab our friend, won’t you, boys?”

You ran for the bedroom—

a gunshot—

a hole in the floor where there wasn’t one before—

you’re jaw hit the floor before you even realized that in your fright you’d tripped over your own two feet—

then one rough hand on each of your arms pulling, pulling, pulling—

Rohr, stood above you.

The tears broke loose. Snot and spit ran down your face and when you moved to wipe them away the men held your arms at your sides. Bruises would form if you lived long enough. You sobbed, openly and unrestrained. You were pathetic. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You were no Avenger; there was nothing special about you. You were a chef, a damn good one if you had anything to say about it—and what did chefs know about infiltration or spying or doing a superhero’s work for them?

Loki, you thought. Loki, Loki, Loki, his name spun circles in your mind.

"As I was saying, Hydra can always use a double agent. But a Jew? We have no need for your kind in our organization. We do, however, have a need to get rid of any potential threats. So, since you are interested in Hydra, you'll be taking a trip with us to one of our facilities while Peter and Ilene wait for your lovely husband to return. We wouldn't want to leave him out of the fun, would we?"

The guards dragged you out of the room. You struggled against them, trying to rip your arms out of their hold, and digging your heels into the carpet, to no avail.

"Let go, you shits!" You yelled, fear giving way just long enough for a burst of anger to bubble up.

"Don't make too much of a fuss, please. It would be a hassle if we had to knock you out, but we will do it if necessary."

"I'm not going to make it easy for you to kidnap and kill me!" Your voice cracked on a fresh sob.

Pain exploded through your body as barrels of each of the guard’s guns slam into the back of your head and your stomach respectively. Your tears burned on their way down. Rohr and Peter were talking, but the words were indistinct. Your head was swimming—drowning, while everyone around you looked on.

Then there was mass hysteria.

Screams—not from anyone in the room, but from somewhere else, somewhere far away, though it was hard to tell if it only seemed that way because of the concussion you surely had.

Something shattered, the screams got closer.

Rohr glared at you, as though any of this was your fault.

“Everyone out the back way,” he barked.

The two men holding you hauled you up out of the room. Your legs dragged uselessly under you, which was fine. You still had no inclination towards making things easy and you had just enough presence of mind left to hope that they’d just decide you weren’t worth the extra trouble. Maybe they’d just drop you there in the middle of the hallway; leave you for dead instead of allowing you to slow down their escape.

And then they did.

The men dropped you, uncaring of the way you slump down onto the floor or the pained cry you couldn’t contain when your knees hit the floor.

But they didn’t leave, didn’t abandon you. Something stopped them.

“Get the fuck out of our way,” the man on your left growled at the figure standing in front of the group.

“No, I don’t think I will,” came Loki’s response. Though his words lacked any threat, his tone left the implication of it all too clear.

Loki, you thought, tears falling anew. You’re here.

It took all of your remaining energy to look up at him, but there—he was standing right there. You almost couldn’t believe it. If you had been alone, you probably wouldn’t have believed it. You’d have chalked it up to a trick your distressed mind was playing on you. But Rohr, the Woodards, the guards—they all saw him, too.

And they truly did see him. All traces of Robert Laing were erased, though Loki had left wearing the disguise. Even his clothes were undeniably Loki’s. Gone were the suit and blonde hair. Instead, Loki’s dark curls fell in an unruly mess just above his shoulders. The metal of his armor gleamed under the hotel’s harsh lighting and the dark leather almost managed to hide the blood splattered across his chest.

In each arm, he held a body.

The guards Peter had sent after him.

Loki tossed them haphazardly at Rohr’s feet.

“I could forgive hunting me down,” Loki began conversationally, “That is considered something of a sport among the Aesir, you know. But hurting my wife? I’m afraid I can’t let that go unpunished.”

Metal pressed against both sides of your head. The guns, you assumed; you didn’t look to confirm. You couldn’t look away from Loki; you knew if you did, panic would overcome you. Panic wouldn’t help anyone in this situation.

“I’m afraid you really don’t have a choice in the matter,” Rohr bit out.

“Do you suppose there is anything you can do to stop me?” Loki’s voice came from behind you.

Squelch.

The guards had no time to react before they fell to the floor beside you, dead. Two Lokis promptly shoved them away from you. The Loki standing before you stepped closer to Rohr. He flipped a blade, his face a mask of contemplation.

“What do you imagine you could do to me, you old fool?” One of the Lokis behind you stepped forward, too, closing in on the Woodards. The third Loki stayed close to you. One of his hands rested on the top of your head, lightly playing with the strands of hair. Just feeling him there made you feel worlds better. Or maybe he was using some kind of magic to heal you. You still felt shitty enough that it was hard to tell. “Honestly—” Loki scoffed, “Six Avengers could not kill me at my worst; what hope could three old mortals searching for their glory days have against me?"

Six new Lokis sprung into existence, wrenching a soul piercing scream from Ilene, only made worse when one of them grabbed her hair. They all laughed in time with one another. It was a humorless laugh, deranged; dangerous.

“Let her g—” Peter’s vocal chords were no match for the blade Loki ran through them.

A blade through her chest cut Ilene’s next scream short.

You knew, logically, that this all should have inspired some sort of fear in you. Violence was never something you’d had to witness; not like this, at least. Before this, your experience with blood came from paper cuts and meat. Now, blood spilled and pooled under unnaturally still bodies, stained white carpet to permanently commemorate the deaths of those who had wronged one worshiped as a god.

You did not feel fear.

You felt good.

With Loki’s gentle hand on your hair and his blade wreaking vengeance on your behalf, you felt powerful.

You raised your head to look at Christopher Rohr. Every part of him trembled—hands, legs, even his eyes trembled. You thought about how powerful he seemed last night. All of those people cheering for him, supporting him. Where were they all now? Running, screaming in terror because they caught sight of true power—power that came to your aid.

“Kill him, please,” you whispered.

The Loki standing in front of Rohr turned his gaze on you. For an instant, it was softer than it had any right to be in a blood soaked corridor surrounded by dead bodies. Then he turned his gaze back onto Rohr. He grinned, his mouth a knife’s blade itching for carnage.

“As my lady commands,” he said.

Rohr’s death was almost anticlimactic. He tried to flee, oh he tried. But with a circle of Lokis surrounding him, there was little chance of escape. They closed in on him slowly; let him search for openings to slip through, but Rohr truly was nothing more than an old man. He had no power without his followers around him.

The Loki at your back knelt down. His hand moved from your hair to your chin, gently pulling you to look at him.

“Before I end this cretin’s life, I believe you expressed a desire to punch one of his ilk. Would you care to fulfill it now?”

You licked your lips.

The Lokis circling Rohr shifted just enough for you to see inside of their circle. He was kneeling now, begging for mercy.

You nodded.

Loki helped you stand on shaky legs. A tingling sensation moved through your body, healing some of the pain that still lingered. You didn’t feel one hundred percent better, but it was enough to give you the strength needed for your task.

Rohr’s begging came to a stop when you joined the circle. His face hardened. It was almost amusing—even moments away from death, he thought to treat you as someone beneath him. As though it wasn’t your request that would end his life once you got your satisfaction.

Your fingers curled into a fist at your side. You thought about saying something; maybe some sort of biting comment that would torment him beyond the grave. But, really, there was nothing to say. Nothing that would erase the followers he’d amassed throughout his life, nothing that would erase what he’d done, what planned to do.

And so you punched him. Again. And again. And again. You punched him until you were breathless, screamed until your throat was sore.

Loki watched, a silent support, until you were done. And when you were done, he lifted you into his arms and let one of his duplicates sink his blade into Rohr’s wretched heart. Rohr, too, was nothing more than a lifeless heap on a bloody floor.

It was done.

The extra Lokis dissipated.

Your perception of space and time went foggy from there. You were aware, on some vague level, that Loki was carrying you from the hotel, but you had no idea where he was taking you or how long it took to get there. Hushed whispers from a crowd both beguiled and panicked by the sight of Loki were nothing more than white noise in your ears. Mostly, you were aware of the sticky wet feeling of the blood on Loki’s leathers seeping through your dress—

—staining

staining

staining—

“Are you with me?” Loki spoke against your ear, kissing just behind it when you startled back to reality.

The room you were in was unfamiliar. Layers of fabrics in varying shades of green flecked with gold formed a canopy around the bed you were in. A wardrobe, table, and two chairs carved from sturdy dark wood were the only pieces of furniture you could see. Across from the bed was a door, left ajar just enough that you could begin to make out the bathroom behind it. Carved into the wall nearest the table, was a fireplace and in the fireplace a fire crackled as it warmed a kettle hanging just above it.

You breathed in.

You breathed out.

In.

Out.

And with every breath you took, Loki kissed your face; a trail from one cheekbone to the next.

In time, you became aware that you were no longer wearing the bloody gown. You felt clean. Fresh. You did not ask after the dress, Loki did not offer any information.

He moved away from you slowly, going to the fireplace to remove the kettle. The liquid inside smelled of the earth and something a bit sweet. Loki helped you to sit up against the headboard and handed you a small cupful.

You sipped at it.

“The specialty of mothers across the Nine Realms—just the trick for bumps and bruises,” Loki offered, by way of explanation.

You were only mildly surprised to find your pain all but gone after only a few sips of the concoction. If it could heal the ailments of Asgardian children, your human pain surely didn’t stand a chance against it.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Silence fell over the room. Loki flitted about, finding this task or that chore to do. You watched him; your mind felt somehow too busy and too empty. A cacophony of static mixed with deafening silence.

When Loki ran out of menial tasks he returned to the bed, tucking you into his side. He let the silence reign for a few moments more before he broke it. Stories of growing up on Asgard filled the air—of wild hunts for legendary creatures, of boots that let him walk on air, and of battles fought with rhymes and wit instead of swords and magic. He spoke until the cup was empty, then took the cup to wash.

"I don't think I'm cut out for Avenger-ing," you confessed. The corners of your mouth turned down. “Avenging? Seems like that shouldn’t be the right word—they don’t actually avenge very much, do they?”

Loki’s next breath came out as a laugh. He bent to kiss away the crease of your furrowed brow, and settled back down next to you in the bed.

“They do not,” He took one of your hands in his, kissed your knuckles. “Do not sell yourself short. You did well tonight—we may make a warrior queen of you yet, little wife.”

“Yeah, right,” you snorted. “All I did was punch an old man; besides, you didn’t see me cry when they came to the room. Definitely not hero behavior.”

“All warriors must start somewhere,” he offered.

“Mhmm, I guess,” you went quiet for a moment, just letting your mind drift. You’d probably have nightmares for a while. You’d never seen anyone get murdered before; that probably had some lasting psychological effects, you imagined. “What should we tell Steve and Tony?”

“The truth.”

You leaned away from Loki, brows raised, but eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“It is a useful enough tool, on occasion,” he said through another breathy laugh. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you back into his body.

You nuzzled his neck, pressed a kiss over his pulse. This was nice. This was good. There would be fallout from all of this, no doubt about that. But it could wait. For now, there were no nightmares, no angry Avengers with angry opinions, and no violent bigots to deal with. That felt like a win. For now, you had Loki.

“Don’t forget, Mischief, you owe me at least one date before I’ll marry you for real,” you whispered into his skin.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he tapped his index finger against his chin. “How do you fare at climbing trees? The Branches of Yggdrasil are lovely this time of year…”

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki fluff #loki fic #mcu fic #robert laing x reader #jewish reader

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

One Misunderstanding

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You struggle to fix Bucky's first impression of you. Bucky struggles with his own feelings.

Warnings: angst, Hydra things- like brainwashing and torture, a few curse words, panic attacks, anxiety

Word count: 5609

a/n: this idea came to me very suddenly, but I'm in love with it. Hopefully whatever I just wrote does it justice.

Masterlist

"Everyone, meet Y/N. She's the newest member of our little group, bringing in a whole new level of hacking and tech skills. Y/N, meet the team." Tony introduced you to everyone, eager to share your skills.

You turned to the group, getting ready to introduce yourself further, but instead tripped. You shrieked as you fell down the small set of stairs you were at the top of.

Sam, being the closest, caught you. "Good thing you've got tech skills." He chuckled as you righted yourself, firmly planting your feet on the ground.

"Haha, yeah. I'm not a big fan of violence." You winced as you said it, wishing you could take it back. You didn't want to get into the reasons as to why you don't like violence.

To your surprise, nobody asked why. You would have guessed they would have questions, but maybe they weren't interested in your past. They all had their own issues to deal with afterall.

"Eh, we don't need anymore people for fighting anyway. Welcome to the team." Steve greeted you warmly, as you would have expected from America's golden boy.

You gratefully shook his hand, glad to not have to talk about anything yet. Unfortunately, you tripped again when you tried to move back, falling into the one and only Bucky Barnes.

His hands steadied you, dryly laughing at your clumsiness. "You really are clumsy."

You did you best to not show how embarrassed you were. You couldn't deny the claim. Unless you were fighting, something you vowed to yourself to never do again, you were clumsy.

Being abducted and tortured by Hydra may have made you a competent fighter, but your aptitude for tripping over nothing never left.

"Right, sorry!" You greeted everyone else quickly, eager to get situated in your room. "I'm just going to unpack everything." You waved as you backed out of the room, bumping into the wall as you left.

You had just finished putting away your stuff when you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You figured someone would have questions for you.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha was the one to step into your room. Of everyone there, you expected her to have learned about your past. It comes with the territory of being a spy.

"Hi, I was hoping to talk to you." Her tone was friendly, but clearly she was skeptical of you. Again, you weren't surprised.

"I thought you might. I'm assuming you read my file? Honestly, I thought everyone would." You laughed gently, shaking your head at yourself.

"I did. Your file is pretty bare bones though. I did some extra digging... Not everyone else is as nosy as me." She grinned, already pleased with your openness. "So, why'd you pretend to be clumsy?"

"Oh, it wasn't pretend. I've always been clumsy. When everything happened, and I learned how to fight, I thought my newfound agility would help. Turns out, it didn't. The only times I'm even the slightest bit coordinated are when I'm fighting or training, but I wasn't lying about that either. When I escaped, I promised myself I wouldn't hurt anyone else."

"Why join the Avengers at all then?" She looked curious, still unsure if she could trust you.

"I wanted to help people. I just didn't want to use the skills they gave me to do it. So, I learned how to code, figured I could help behind the scenes."

She smiled, letting down her guard. Clearly it would take some time, but you could easily see the two of you being close friends.

"So, nobody knows about what you went through?" She couldn't help but be curious about your past.

"Nope. I don't talk about it much, but it's not a secret. I'll answer anything you want to know." You smiled, eager to try and make a real friend here.

You spent the next few hours answering every question Natasha could think of. You told her about being abducted and experimented on.

That lead to even more questions, basically boiling down to the fact that you're not a super soldier, but you do have enhanced senses- and seemingly enhanced clumsiness for when you're not using them.

You told her about learning how to fight, and the punishments you would endure if you got it wrong. The two of you bonded over the shared experience.

Finally, you told her about how you escaped. When the Winter Soldier escaped, every Hydra effort possible was made to find him. That included you. Resources were spread thin, trying to cover more areas. It was the perfect opportunity for you to get out.

"Really, I owe my freedom to him. Even if he doesn't know anything about me." You felt the tears in your eyes, too many emotions swirling through you to keep it all in anymore. "Since then, I've learned everything I could about technology and coding, which pretty much brings you up to date."

Before she could ask anymore questions, there was another knock on your door. Quickly wiping the tears from your eyes, you called another "come in!"

Steve poked his head in the door, cautiously looking between you and Nat.

"I've been sent to stop the interrogation." He grinned, stepping farther into the room.

Nat rose from her spot on the bed, kissing him on the cheek while rolling her eyes. "It wasn't an interrogation. We were bonding."

"Yeah, over what?" He chuckled, trying to figure out what the two of you had in common.

Maybe it was the look in your eyes, or maybe Nat just likes knowing more than everyone, but she smiled conspiratorially at you before responding. "Girl stuff, babe. Just girl stuff."

You smiled as the couple left the room, grateful for not having to explain everything again.

Over the next few weeks, the team constantly teased you for your clumsiness. Well, not the whole team. Nat knew the truth, so she never said anything. Peter never teased you either, although that is likely due to the teasing he endures as well.

Weirdly enough, you bonded with the kid over it, eventually telling him about your past as well.

Normally you could shake it off. They clearly didn't mean anything by it. Except Bucky.

Whenever he said anything, he stared you down. His eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. You're not sure exactly why, but he didn't seem to like you much.

Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have an embarrassing crush on the man.

Really your infatuation started when you first escaped Hydra. His own escape lead to your freedom, so you admired him. When you found out he was working with the Avengers to help people, you admired him even more.

Watching him on missions is really what caused the infatuation to blossom into a full blown crush.

You, however, would adamantly deny that if anyone ever asked. Which is what just happened.

"What?!" You nearly tripped, again, with how quickly you turned to look at Wanda and Nat.

"You heard me." Nat stared at you, a neutral expression on her face. "When are you going to do something about your crush on Barnes."

"I, I don't- I don't have a crush on Bucky." You stuttered, a lackluster job at denying the truth.

"Please, Y/N. It's so obvious!" Wanda joined in.

The three of you hung out a lot around the compound. It was nice to have a support system to lean on when things got hard.

"Well, even if I did, which I'm not saying I do! He doesn't like me. I don't know what I did, but his eyes feel like daggers whenever we're in the same room." You started out strong, but quickly morphed into a sad resignation. It genuinely upset you that Bucky didn't like you.

"I think I might know what that's about..." Wanda bit her lip, immediately feeling guilty at having said anything.

"What!?" You eagerly turned to her, needing answers. You shuffled your way across the room, never fully rising from your seat on the ground.

"I don't know if I should tell you! I'm not even supposed to know, but sometimes his thoughts are really loud!" Her guilt multiplied.

"You have to tell me now! Then I can fix it!" You were practically begging at her feet from your position on the floor.

She looked at Nat, who just shrugged in return. "Not my place, although I would love to hear it."

"Ugh, fine. But you can't tell anyone I told you!" Wanda glared at the two of you, unable to say no to your pouting face. "The first day we all met you, do you remember what you said?"

Your face scrunched as you tried to remember. "I'm not a big fan of violence?"

She nodded, looking at you as if she just told you everything.

"So?" You asked incredulously, unable to follow her train of thought.

She rolled her eyes, having to spell it out for you. "He kind of took that personally..."

Immediately, you sunk completely to the floor. "Oh, god. Fuck! That's not what I meant at all! I just meant I don't personally like using violence! Shit, shit, shit." You continued to mutter to yourself as Nat and Wanda shared a look.

"Why don't you like using violence?" Wanda asked, intrigued by your reaction.

You thought back to your conversation with Nat the first day you got here. You told her it wasn't a secret, it just wasn't something you brought up.

"Can you just look in my head? I don't really wanna explain it, but I want you to know." You asked, glad to share you past with another friend.

Wanda nodded, seemingly doing nothing until realization dawned on her.

"Oh shit." She whispered, not even realizing she said it out loud.

"Yeah." You huffed out a dry laugh.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry." You smiled at her, having worked through most of the trauma already. "You totally have a crush on Barnes though."

That earned a real laugh. "Hey, that's not what you were in there for!"

"It's not my fault! You were thinking it really loudly!"

The three of you laughed together until you sunk back into a pit of despair.

"What do I do? How do I fix this?" You whined, laying back on the ground like a child.

"I think you just need to talk to him. Explain what you meant." Wanda shrugged, unsure of any other advice to offer you.

"She's right. Just talk to him." Nat nodded along as you whined on the floor.

After a few days, you finally worked up enough courage to try and talk to Bucky. He had just finished training, so you knew exactly where he'd be: in the kitchen.

Walking in, you were glad to see him pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"Hey Bucky, can I, um, talk to you for a minute?" You stuttered through the words, nervous about what he would say.

He barely looked at you, nodding his head for you to continue.

"I just, I wanted to apologize." You trailed off when his head snapped up.

"For what?" Well shit. How are you supposed to explain this one without ratting out Wanda.

"Oh, well, um... I just thought maybe I said- I did something that upset you. Uh, you just don't seem to like me very much, which is totally cool, you don't have to like me if you don't want to. I just didn't want it to be my fault... Fuck." That went horribly. Taking a deep breath, you started over. "I didn't mean it."

Bucky is looking at you like you have three heads. "Didn't mean what?"

"That I don't like violence."

"So you do... like violence." He'd somehow grown more confused.

"Well, no." You paused, unsure of how to explain yourself.

"Then you did mean it." His soul piercing stare is back.

"I-"

"It's fine, save it. Some people get to choose not to be violent." And with that, he left the kitchen, abandoning his post workout smoothie.

You stared at the doorway, in shock over how poorly that went. You stood there , unaware of the 25 minutes that had passed, trying to figure out how it could've gone better when Steve found you.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You didn't hear him, too lost in the memories. Memories of Hydra, forcing you to do things you never wanted to. This happened from time to time if something triggered you into remembering, otherwise you had a handle on your emotions.

"Y/N?" Steve said your name again, concern evident in his voice. He gently laid a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

Everything happened so fast after that. The feeling of someone's hand on your shoulder caused you to panic. With all the memories of Hydra in your head, your training kicked in instinctually.

You grabbed Steve's arm, pulling him closer to you for better leverage. Before he could question your moves, you flipped him, pinning him to the ground.

The second you made eye contact, you realized what just happened. Horror and regret flashed in your eyes.

In an effort to get off him, you threw yourself backward, knocking into a cart full of pots and pans. The clanging of metal hitting the ground echoed through the small room.

Steve sat up slowly, trying to register the turn of events. You sat in a ball on the floor, tears pooling in your eyes, mumbling apologies over and over again.

Sam, having heard the commotion from the pots and pans, ran into the kitchen ready to fight.

"What- What happened?" He asked in confusion, lowering his arms from their defensive position.

"I don't know." Steve looked at you, still trying to figure it out.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was gentle, but it still startled you.

You jumped from the ground, rushing to help Steve get up. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. I never wanted to hurt anyone again." Your breathing was picking up, short bursts of air leaving your lungs. Your hands were shaking as you pulled him from the ground.

Your panic increased as you took in their concerned expressions.

"Hey, look at me." Steve's Captain voice, came out, urging you to make eye contact. You followed orders, breathing rapidly, your whole body shaking.

"I'm going to touch you now, is that okay?" His words were gentle, but commanding, causing you to nod in response.

He pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You wanted to explain, to tell them what happened, but all that came out was a pitiful "Bucky".

"Do you want me to get Bucky?" Sam asked, trying to understand you.

The idea of Bucky coming back caused your panic to increase. You shook your head rapidly, "No! No no no no no." You kept repeating the word, shaking in Steve's arms.

"Okay! Okay, no Bucky." Sam reassured you, voice calm and soothing.

You’re not sure how long you stood like that. Sam moved around the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had knocked over.

When your breathing steadied, Steve asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You nodded, leading the two men to the couch in the adjacent common area. You sat for a minute, unsure of where to start.

"Why don't you just lead us through it all?" Steve suggested, still rubbing your back.

You nodded, grateful for the starting point. "I went to the kitchen to apologize to Bucky."

"What for?" Sam interrupted, already confused.

"Sam! Just let her talk." Steve muttered, slightly annoyed.

"Sorry!" He glared back at Steve before turning to you, "Sorry, please continue."

You couldn't help but laugh at their banter.

"Right, I wanted to apologize for what I said the first day I met you all. I realized how it sounded, so I wanted to try and fix it." You paused, waiting for the recognition to hit them.

It didn't take long. The two men nodded, silently urging you to continue.

"Honestly, Wanda told me that was why he always seems mad at me. You have to know, I never meant for it to come across that way! It's more of a personal, 'I don't want to be violent' than shunning others for doing what's necessary." You took a deep breath, not eager to relive the conversation.

"Anyway, I told him I didn't mean it. I just couldn't explain it right, and he got upset, which makes sense!" You turned to look between them, not wanting them to think you were insulting Bucky in any way. "I don't hold what he did against him. It wasn't his choice, and I completely understand that. I just couldn't put that into words when I was talking to him, and I made everything worse."

Tears popped into your eyes again, upset at what he must be going through. You weren't with Hydra for but a tenth of the time he was, and you didn't endure the same level of brainwashing.

"He said something about some people not being able to choose not to be violent, and then he left. I don't know how long I was standing in the kitchen replaying the conversation, but it brought up bad memories for me." You sighed again, working up the nerve to tell them everything.

"Wanda and Nat already know, but I guess it's your guys's turn. This was so much easier to just have Wanda read my mind." You laughed at your own joke, the two men sharing a concerned look.

"I was taken... by Hydra. They experimented on me, gave me enhanced senses, trained me to fight, and punished me when I did something wrong." Again, tears sprung into your eyes, occasionally falling down your cheeks.

"Why wasn't this in your file?" Steve questioned, more to himself than you.

"I haven't got a clue. I guess nobody knew about me? But, I escaped. They didn't brainwash me like they did Bucky, because I don't have the serum. Or, at least, I think that's why." You shook your head, refocusing on the important parts.

"When every available Hydra agent was tasked with searching for the Winter Soldier, I took it as on opportunity. Their resources were spread thin. I was able to getaway."

You went onto explain your reasoning for joining the Avengers as a tech specialist, trying to convey the same earnestness you did with Nat.

"You can ask Nat or Wanda too. Nat found out day one, Wanda a few days ago." You wiped your tears, hoping they believed you. "Actually, Peter knows too."

"I was stuck in all those memories when you came into the kitchen. I didn't even register that you were in the room, so when you touched me I freaked out. I never meant to hurt you!"

You looked at Steve fearful that he would be upset.

"Y/N, I believe you." You cried tears of relief at his statement, genuinely exhausted from the day. "It's not your fault, and you didn't hurt me. Just caught me off guard. You're surprisingly agile when you want to be." He tried to lighten the mood, glad to hear you laugh.

"Well, I train in the middle of the night sometimes. I- I want to be able to get out if I'm ever forced back there." Your voice was quiet, admitting a secret you hadn't even told Nat.

"We won't let that happen." The sternness of Sam's voice surprised you.

"Thank you." You wiped your tears a final time, looking between the two men. "Now, what do I do about Bucky?" You refocused your energy on fixing your relationship with the super soldier.

"He never would have said what he said if he had known." Steve started the conversation, defending his friend.

"I know. I don't hold it against him, I just wish I could explain. I get so nervous when he looks at me like that." You rambled, too tired to filter your thoughts.

"Like what?" Sam asked, eager for more information to tease Bucky with.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. Like he can see into my soul." You deadpanned, earning a laugh from both men. "I just want him to like me." You nearly whined, upset by your poor relationship.

"Like you, huh?" Steve grinned. Nat and Wanda chose that exact moment to walk into the room, eagerly joining the conversation.

"Barnes? Did you tell him how you feel?" Wanda squealed with excitement.

You buried your head in your hands, avoiding the knowing looks the four of them were surely sharing. "Not exactly." You gestured to your head, hoping Wanda would figure it out and share with Nat.

"Ooh... It didn't go well, basically Barnes got upset, Y/N flipped Steve and had a panic attack, then told these two everything." Wanda explained to Nat quickly, trying not to make you relive it.

"We need a plan." Nat declared.

"No, I just need to learn how to have a conversation with the man." You rolled your eyes at yourself. "I'll try talking to him again." You went to leave the room, turning around to glare at them. "And none of you can say a word of this to Bucky."

Despite you request, Steve still tried to talk to Bucky.

"What's up with you?" Steve questioned, trying to subtly pry into Bucky's thoughts.

"Nothing. Why?" Bucky answered in a questioning tone, trying to figure out Steve's motives.

"I heard you talked to Y/N is all. How'd it go?" He gave up on the subtle approach pretty quickly, knowing Bucky wouldn't answer a question that wasn't asked.

"How did you even hear that, punk?" Bucky deflected.

"Not the point. Answer the question."

"Not great. I messed it up." Bucky sighed, annoyed at himself for barging out of the room. "She said wanted to apologize, that she didn't mean what she said." He ran his hands through his hair, struggling to explain where it all went wrong.

"Would've been fine if I could follow what she was saying. She was rambling about me not liking her, which you and I both know isn't true. Ugh, i've never been mad at her. I'm mad at myself! At Hydra for making me a monster! How could she ever like me if she doesn't like violence? My entire past is violent." He huffed, having worked himself up again.

"You're not a monster, Buck." Steve started gently.

"I know you think that." Steve gave him a pointed glare. "I know, okay? But what does she think?"

"Maybe you should try talking to her. You might be surprised by what you learn." Steve clapped him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him, before leaving the room.

Everytime you tried to talk to Bucky, something got in the way. The first time, he was called in for an emergency mission before you even got the word hello out.

The second time, Tony walked into the common area, completely oblivious to the tension, and put on a movie.

The third time, Steve and Nat interrupted you. You were just about to apologize again after an awkward greeting when the elevator doors opened. The sounds of the cheerful laughter and stolen kisses didn't really set the mood for confessing your past with Hydra.

The fourth, and final time, was the most embarrassing.

You walked into the room on a mission. You were going to talk to him, no matter who decided to walk in.

"Bucky, I really need to-" and you tripped on a toy Morgan left out, causing you to tumble to the ground. That would have been embarrassing enough, but there's more.

In your effort to get up, you tripped again, hitting your head on the coffee table, causing you to bleed profusely.

"Shit." You cursed yourself, holding your hand up to your bleeding forehead.

"Are you okay?" Bucky rushed to you from the other side of the table, concerned with the amount of blood spewing from your head.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Unfortunately, you chose that moment to jokingly reference your past.

Some of the people who tortured you had a sick sense of humor. Whenever they would hit you hard enough to make you bleed, they said something about only having one head. A play on words because of the greek serpent with multiple heads.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, I'm lucky I only have one." You froze instantly, unsure if he would have had a similar experience. Slowly, you looked up in an effort to make eye contact.

Bucky was also frozen in place. Clearly he understood the reference.

"Wh- where did you hear that?" Bucky struggled with his sentence, trying not to flashback to his time at Hydra.

"Oh my god. I'm so so sorry." You instantly started apologizing, trying to backtrack. "I really need to learn when to stop fucking talking." You said more to yourself than him.

"Where did you hear it?" He asked again, putting more power behind his words.

"Um, well, i've been trying to tell you for weeks now, but um, I also kind of, have, um, well, you see-"

"Just spit it out." There was the slightly miffed Bucky you were used to.

"I was taken. By Hydra. 9 years ago. Um, they forced me to learn how to fight. Tortured me if I did anything wrong. Forced me to do things..." You trailed off, realizing you didn't need to give him many details. He has first hand experience.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off before he could say anything else.

"That's why I don't like using violence. I only know how to do that stuff because they made me learn it. I didn't want to use the skills they gave me." You took a deep, grounding breath.

"I don't blame you for anything you were forced to do. It wasn't your choice. You're not a violent person, and your past actions don't define who you are. You're here to help people. That's what you chose. That's who you are."

You made eye contact before you continued. "I've actually wanted to thank you for the longest time."

"For what?" He was incredulous, wildly caught off guard by everything you've said.

"The only reason I had an opportunity to escape was because 2 years ago, you escaped. If Hydra's resources hadn't been spread so thin trying to find you, I probably would've never got out. So thank you. For being strong enough to fight back."

You smiled at him, still unsure of how he was feeling.

"I... I'm so sorry." To say you were stunned was an understatement. What the hell could he have to be sorry about? Sure he was a little rude, but from your point of view he was completely justified in hating you.

"Bucky, you have no reason to be sorry. You didn't know, and I couldn't get out of my head enough to tell you. You just make me nervous." You clapped a hand over your mouth, shocked at having said what you just said.

You could see his face fall ever so slightly, causing you to jump back into your explanation.

"Not because I'm scared of you or anything! Hell, I could probably take you in a fight." You winked, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, judging by the slight smirk on his face.

"I just, I've looked up to you for so long. Your determination to do good after everything you've been through is really inspiring. It's actually why I wanted to join the Avengers in the first place. I never would have-" You would have kept rambling if he hadn't stopped you.

"Y/N, I am sorry, and I do have reason to be. There's no excuse for what I said to you in the kitchen that day. Even if I didn't know, I threw everything you've been through back in your face. If someone had done that to me, I probably would have had a panic attack." He tried joking, but by the way you froze he could tell he struck a nerve.

"You had a panic attack? I'm so sorry! God, I just left you all alone and-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "Actually, I was kind of frozen in place until Steve touched me and I maybe threw him to the ground... Then I had a panic attack..." You smiled, trying to convey the joke. "So, I wasn't alone. Sam was actually also there. If anything, it made me better friends with both of them because I told them everything. So I have you to thank for that to." You playfully nudged his side.

He ran his hands through his hair, then down his face, clearly trying to deal with his own guilt.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it. You didn't know. It happened. We're good now, so we can move on." You smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"How are you so relaxed about all of this? You were tortured for years... I..." He was genuinely curious, trying to find a way to cope with his own pain.

"Well, even before that I always thought therapy could be helpful for me, so I really jumped in full force when I was free. Plus, if you can't joke about something, you haven't really moved on. Some days are harder than others, but I just try to appreciate the people I have now and the good experiences I've been lead to." You kept the tone light, trying not to get too emotional.

He just stared at you for a few minutes, making you questions everything.

"I mean, it's totally different for you though! I was only there for 7 years, you were forced into all that for like 10 times as long. I didn't mean to belittle-"

"I think you inspire me just as much as you say I've inspired you." He cut you off again, a small smile growing on your lips.

"Well, in the spirit of our newfound friendship, can I be totally honest?" You bit your lip, nervous about telling him the truth.

He looked nervous as well, but nodded anyway.

"I kind of, maybe, sort of have a crush on you." You watched his expression carefully, although there was really no need. His face easily gave away his surprise.

"You..." He stuttered, moving his fingers between the two of you. "Me? But, I was so mean!"

"What can I say, I saw through the facade... Well, really Wanda accidentally read your mind and told me why you were so upset around me when her and Nat teamed up to get me to tell you how I feel." You rambled again, realization dawning that you accidentally outed Wanda.

"But you can't tell her I told you that! She didn't mean to! She just said you think really loud sometimes and it's hard not to hear it! She did it to me too actually, I mean I told her she could look in my head so I wouldn't have to explain everything again, I know so lazy, and that's how she confirmed my crush on you." You said it all with wide eyes at a rapid speed, unable to control yourself around Bucky.

You slapped your hands over your mouth, forcing yourself to stop talking. Bucky looked on in amusement, slowly reaching to pull your hands away from your face.

"I won't tell her, if you get dinner with me tonight." He smiled cheekily, relishing in your blush.

"That's a deal I'm willing to make." You reached your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek before running to get ready.

***

Bonus:

Sam whined playfully as he looked at the high scores. "Whose username is 'God is a spoon' and how did they get so good at this game?"

He looked around the room, eying any suspicious candidates. Everyone denied it, throwing out accusations left and right.

It was another of Tony's team bonding nights and he chose VR games on the oculus. Obviously, Beat Saber was a top contender amongst the group.

You walked in with Bucky, unaware of the conversation going on, but immediately joining it.

"Peter! I bet it was him!" You playfully nudged the younger Avenger, having formed a close friendship in the early days. "What am I betting on?" Everyone laughed, happy to see you in a good mood after being so stressed for so long.

"Whose username is 'God is a spoon'." Sam chuckled after filling you in. You and Bucky settled on the couch, cuddling next to each other.

"Oh, that's me. Why?" You looked around curiously, trying to figure out what they wanted. "Is it a weird username? It was actually one of the catchphrase things in Just Dance on the switch, I didn't just think of it." You tried to justify yourself, causing more laughter.

"You?! How did you get all the highscores on this game? I thought you were the clumsy one."

You made an exaggerated face to show how offended you were, playfully swatting at Sam.

"I'll have you know, 7 years of Hydra 'training' and experimentation has its perks." You joked with the room. "One of them being I can beat your ass at pretty much any video game."

"Oh, you're so on." Sam smiled, glad he could joke around with you about it.

Meanwhile, Tony looked incredulously around the room, being the only one in the room who hadn't heard about your history, he was rightfully confused.

"I'm sorry, 7 years of WHAT?"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #natasha romanoff #captain america #tony stark #peter parker #sam wilson #bucky barnes #marvel fic #tw: panic attack #steve rogers x natasha romanoff

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

My Father's daughter pt1

Summary: After the disastrous gala, you get an unexpected visit from your “mother”and her family.

A/n: Hello so I feel like the mom character should have a name, so from here on out, your mother's name is Christine. Also i hope y’all like this one cause i feel like it’s going kinda slow.

Growing up was rough.

Because your mother decided that you and Tony weren’t worth the effort, you had to mature pretty quickly. You’re father had fallen into this deep depression, where he can barely take care of himself. You had to make sure that your father woke up on time for meetings, made sure he ate, drank water, and inevitably had to make sure that he didn’t choke on his own vomit when he got shitfaced.

Needless to say, you were very mature for nine years old.

But then, a light in the form of Virginia Potts came into your lives. She saw the way you had taken on the role of Tonys caregiver, and was heartbroken. At first she thought it was just pure negligence from Tonys end, but as she spent more time with the both of you, she realized that Tony loved you more than anything in this world. So she stuck around.

At first you were weary of her. Not really trusting towards older woman, or motherly figures as you were scorned once. But she never gave up. Not on you or your father. No, she stayed even when you would run away on under her watch. She stayed even when you would try and steal your fathers cars for a quick joy ride through Manhattan. And she stayed when you broke down after your mother had people come pick up all her belongings from the Tower, not bothering to come herself and say goodbye.

She didn’t leave. She held you as you screamed and sobbed as the men packed away everything she owned. She held you even when you squirmed and scratched at her arms to get away. And she held you as you gave up and silently cried then eventually fell asleep, tightly clutching her midsection.

That's when you started to come around. You stopped running away whenever your father would leave you with her, wouldn’t talk back when she asked you to pick up a mess, and you even helped her out when some creep intern decided to put the moves on her during a company meeting.

It wasn’t until your father went missing when you truly saw her as someone you could trust. It was the worst three months of your life. Another parent gone suddenly from your life. You were relocated to mansion in Malibu, a big empty place where the halls echoed as you walked through them. ANd you had thought that Pepper was going to stay back in New York, she wasn’t your assistant after all. You were shocked to see her at the airport, suitcase in tow with a determined look.

Seeing the look of surprise on your face she stated,

“ I’m not going to let you do this alone.” ,then grabbed your hand to lead you through terminal.

You were grateful that she only acknowledged your tears when you were in the privacy of the private jet. She rubbed your back as you let the tears run down your face. The whole three months that you were in her care, your perspective changed.

She asked about your day, made sure you ate, tucked you in and held you whenever you had nightmares. With in that three month period, Pepper showed you what it was like to have a mother again. And she never let you down.

Then your dad came home, and your family was complete. You were ecstatic when they started dating and even more so when your father announced that they were going to get engaged.

And even though it took years, you finally trusted Pepper enough to see her as your mother. You were happy.

Which is why you were extra pissed when you came home from your mother-daughter day and saw your biological mother with Bruce Wayne in the common room. They were sitting on the couch and were getting glared at by the Avengers that were home from missions,(Natasha, Steve, and Sam).

“Dad, what’s going on?” You ask, looking past the hopeful and curious gazes from the couch.

“Kid, I think you better sit down.” Tony said through slightly clenched teeth. His face was grim, as he looked past you and made eye contact with Pepper. They had a silent conversation with their eyes, and she nodded. She squeezed your shoulders and took your bags, then with a quick glare she had the rest of the room cleared except for the four of you.

You took a seat across from your mother, Christine and Bruce. She sent a smile your way and was met with a blank look, “ Dad, what’s going on?”

He sighs and makes his way over to were you were seated, “I don’t know, Christine, maybe you should explain.”

His tone indicated that he knew why she was here, but wanted her to sound stupid. Pepper came over and sat on the t other side of you.

Christine glanced at the Pepper and cleared her throat, “Perhaps should be kept between family?”

You scoffed, “ Considering that Pep has been around longer than you ever have been, you have no right to decide who’s family to me and whos not.”

You see Pepper sit up straighter with pride and mother slump.

You sigh, “ What are you doing here?”

She looks at Bruce, who you honestly forgot was still there, “ Y/n...I want you to come home with us.”

A silence filled the room. You felt Pepper tense up at the words and saw your dads and clench into a fist.

You however just stared in utter disbelief.

“What.”

“I know it's far fetched.” Your mother starts, ignoring your scoff, “ But i really do think it would benefit you to come to Gotham with us, and get to know your siblings!”

You were seething.

“My siblings? You mean the family that you left us for.”

“Y/n that’s not-”

“No, You think that you can just waltz into my home, after nine years of absolutely no contact, no birthday cards, not even a text to let me know that you were alive, and expect me to what? Just welcome you into open arms? Leave MY family and go live with you?? Really?” You say with a scoff.

“Y/n there is a ot of factors you are not considering” Bruce chimes in for the first time.

You turn your glare onto him, “ And what you’re just okay with the fact that your wife has a whole other child who she just fucking abandoned?

“Language.” Your father mutters causing you to roll your eyes.

“Well, I can’t say this didn’t come as a shock.” Bruce states, “ But, I also know that I love my wife, and that I would welcome you to our home.”

Your throat was hurting with the amount if times you’ve scoffed, “ And I appreciate that, really, but I would never leave my family. Especially not for her.”

Christine's eyes start to tear up, “ Y/n please, a girl needs her mother.”

Those words triggered the anger inside you. Your blood boiled and you can tell that she knew she messed up.

“Oh? Is that right? What about when I was six and I waited for you to come and take me to that mother's day dance, only you never showed up and I went with my nanny. Or when I was eight and you promised that you would take me to get my ears pierced but then you got a phone call and left so dad took me?”

You saw the tears run down her face as Bruce looked like he was thinking about something.

“Oh and what about when I was nine. I was nine and you promised to take me to the park. You remember that? Cause I do.”

Tony tenses next to you, knowing what you were about to say.

“Y/n I can never apologize enough but-” You cut her off

“I was NINE and your promised to take me to the park” You continue, “ But you left. And this time you didn’t come back.” You finish and lean forward, “ Tell me, why the HELL would you think that I would want to come live with you and your fucking family?”

The room was once again engulfed in a tense silence. The only sounds were the sniffling of your mother.

“You’re my baby girl...my petal. I love you and always have...” She starts, “ My biggest regret is leaving you that day and you have to know that Y/n.”

You feel tears start to rise, a knot in your throat.

Peppers hand squeezes yours and you calm down and say

“Then you’re gonna have to learn to live with it.”

Then you stand up and walk right out of the room. Leaving the adults and marching straight to the training rooms to let out some steam.

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

Back in the common room, a tense silence weighed on the adults. It seemed like no one knew exactly what to say, or they didn’t want to speak up.

Only when Tony cleared his throat did Christine speak up again.

“I didn’t come to cause any trouble.” she said quietly.

“What did you think would happen?”Tony says crossing his arms, “Surely you didn’t expect her to leave with you?”

“No Tony I didn’t. I just thought she would’ve considered it. I am still her mother.”

Pepper snorted, causing the attention to turn to her.

Christine's eyes narrowed, “ And who exactly are you to my daughter?”

Tony tensed, knowing not to mess with Pepper especially when it came to you. He sat back and waited for mamma bear to come out.

Pepper sent a glare her way, “ Me? I’m just the woman who has been raising her for the past nine years.”

Before Christine can get another word on Pepper continued on,

“ I don’t know who you think you are, but you have put Y/n and Tony through a lot of turmoil throughout the years. And now you think you can come in here and demand forgiveness from them?? That’s not happening.”

Bruce started to speak up, “I understand the pain you're family must have gone through, and I am sorry about my...unknowing participation, but Christine is willing to work on her relationship with her daughter.”

Now Tony started speaking, “why? Why now? Y/n is practically an adult, she doesn’t need you anymore. Not like she did before.”

“I’m her mother.” Christine said stubbornly, “ She’ll always need her mother.”

“And she has one. Just not you.” Pepper said standing from her spot, “ I think it’s time for you two to leave. I have to go comfort MY daughter.”

And with that Pepper made her way to the door where you disappeared, knowing exactly where you are. But before she left, she turned and said

“It was lovely to meet you Mrs. Wayne”

and left, leaving Tony to show them to the elevator.

#tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x reader #tony is a good dad #pepperpotts #pepper is a momma #marvel x reader #marvel #poc reader #avengers x teen!reader #reader insert #crossover #bruce wayne x reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #dc comics x reader #marvel and dc

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universitypenguin · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers - Sex Headcanon

Warnings: Smut, Light bondage, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: Too long, as usual.

First of all, Steve Rogers loves sex.

He’s a bit touch starved after waiting for the right woman, but when he finds you and things move into the physical affection stage, he’s all over you.

During sex, Steve loves that he can pick you up with little effort

He likes doing it against the wall

Standing, almost any position

Likes that he can hold your hips still even when you start to squirm when he hits the right spots

In general, holding onto your hips, your butt, and even when he gets to curl his hands around to grasp your inner thighs, Steve is thrilled. Captain America is an ass man.

He loves your legs too, though.

Likes to pin you down for prone bone.

He hates to admit how much using his strength against you turns him on.

But you love it too and when he realizes that you like the same positions he does, it gets more intense.

Like, he’ll pick you up while he’s standing and lift you to his shoulders, draping your legs over his shoulders to eat you out.

When Steve learns that you not only can orgasm multiple times, but that you enjoy it, he starts to let go a bit more.

At first he was careful in bed. He kept things slow and gentle, not being entirely sure of his strength. But once he gets comfortable…

He goes feral

It starts when you ask him to tie you up. The idea is only familiar to him from Tony and Thor’s jokes about 50 Shades of Gray.

Steve hates 50 Shades of Gray. He thinks Christian is an ass who doesn’t respect women.

But back to the topic: bondage. He’s willing to hear you out about why you want that. And eventually, he says yes.

The conversation about bondage goes like this:

You’ve never done bondage before. Despite having several past relationships and experiences, you’ve never trusted a man like that. Erotica tastes aside, reality is a beast of its own.

And without the feeling of complete safety that Steve Rogers inspires in your heart, you won’t have even brought it up.

But you trust him without reservations.

The idea of bondage for you is totally psychological. To have your hands restrained and be blind folded takes the pressure off of you. Sometimes your mind starts going during sex and it ruins your enjoyment.

It’s not like you’re thinking about the groceries or anything, just that you start planning your next move. Should you kiss him now, or do you need to moan louder? Does your moaning sound like a dying cat? Maybe you should keep it down.

So the blind fold is important.

And you don’t want to be able to move because you’d try to plan that too. Sometimes you put a lot of pressure on situations to be perfect. Perfect because you made it perfect, you mean. Your expectations are of yourself.

This is one reason you hate not being able to achieve orgasm. That matters to Steve a lot and he always but your pleasure first. The man is selfless and sweet. And when your mind decides to shut down the orgasm buttons, you hate disappointing him.

Steve is sold on the idea of bondage once he understands that it’s only an option because you feel safe with him. And he likes being the only person you’d trust to be this vulnerable with. All the 50 Shades objections vanish for him once you explain that part.

When you tell him that your struggles orgasming sometimes are from your own pressures to be good in bed, he gets it.

He loves that about you, your desire to please him and make things good. It motivates him to accept the offer of bondage.

Because it makes perfect sense that being forced to be the recipient and having control stripped away would fix that for you.

Steve says that you’ll have to let him make the plan. Which is *so* Steve Rogers it’s almost funny.

On a random Tuesday you get dinner with a friend and come home late. The lights are off which is weird because you expected Steve to be home. When you step inside you call out for him but no reply. Kicking off your shoes you wander to the kitchen and when you reach for the light switch, a hand grabs your wrist.

You give a small scream as a body presses you into the wall. Then you recognize the feel and the scent of his aftershave.

Steve has you pinned to the wall, wrists on either side of your head, feet spread apart and his big body caging you in.

It’s happening. It’s so happening. And you feel thrilled and scared and outrageously excited.

He’s excited too, you can feel it pressing into your back. The man’s been planning and fantasizing, clearly.

“Do you still want this, honey?”

His first words to you are the reason that you want this. It warms your heart at the same time your panties are growing wet.

“Yes, Steve. So much. Please.”

He rolls his hips, pressing his body against you and you can’t control the moan that passes your lips.

“Red means we stop. Yellow is slow down. If I’m going to do something that I think you need to consent to, I’ll ask ‘is this okay?’ and you’re going to say “Green” if you want it. Understand?

“Pick a safe word, doll.”

Eagle is your safe word. Your mind just liked the whole patriotic motif, you supposed.

Once the ground rules are laid out, Steve turns you around and with a tap on the curve of your ass, signals you to jump up.

With your legs around his waist and arms curled around his neck, he carried you upstairs to the bed.

Blindfold goes on first. Then cuffs that are lined with something soft that feels like shearling.

You know without asking that he picked them because he thought handcuffs would be too aggressive. Again, your heart flips.

“I’m going to push you, baby. I want you to wring every bit of enjoyment you can out of this. I’m going to make you come hard. You with me on that?”

You’re with him. You’ve waited a long time to try this.

“I have a plan for aftercare too,” he says.

And that’s your first hint that he’s about to go feral on you like he sometimes does when he’s keyed up from a mission.

Steve Rogers has freaking stamina for days. The man could kill you with sex if he wanted to.

(His sex drive is high… all that waiting for the right girl makes a man horny)

He undoes the halter tie of your dress and pull it down, slipping it over your legs.

He uses his mouth first. And it’s frustrating that he left your panties on.

(The outfit was something he’d suggested. You’d thought he just liked the sundress and had been complimented when he’d said you’d look great in it today. Now it was clear he’d been planning all day. Probably longer.)

He’s been planning since the night you told him two weeks ago. Before the conversation was even over. You felt safe enough with him to ask for such a private and vulnerable fantasy and that turned him on in a mental way he can’t even explain.

So he starts by teasing you.

He kisses your mouth, slow and sensual. His tongue flicks against yours but never quite for as long as you’d like. And he knows how you like it by this point in the relationship. So you’re well aware he’s teasing you.

His mouth begins to wander to your neck and he laps at the sensitive spot. Your thighs clench in response. You’re soaked now, so wet it’s a little bit embarrassing.

He finally finds your breast with his mouth, taking an aching bud in his mouth and drawing on it. Softly. Gently. Lapping and teasing without the friction you needed to enjoy it.

Your breath came in pants now and you spread your legs to open yourself to encourage him to continue. Because there’s somewhere else that really needs attention.

Instead he turns to the other breast and gives it the same attention. Slower. And softer. Stroking with his tongue until your nipple was painfully tight.

His hand trailed up to cup the breast he wasn’t sucking on. The pad of his thumb made teasing circles and you moaned, arching your back into his mouth.

He chuckled and released the aching bud with a pop. Fingertips swirled the nipple he’d just abandoned, coating it with his saliva. He pinch it just right and your hips jerked.

Arousal was a living breathing thing inside your body now, clawing at your lower belly, turning breath into unsteady pants.

“How are you doing, baby?”

The bastard knew you were dying. Sweat was starting to burst from your pores. Your entire body was hot with need.

“Please, Steve…”

“Mmmhh? What do you need, doll?”

“I need your to touch me.”

“Where?”

“My pussy. I’m so wet for you, please touch me. Get inside of me.”

He purred. This was the moment you realized that you’d created a monster. Because he was getting off on the power play.

(This wasn’t actually when the monster was officially created. No, that would be later when you were done and he got to see your dazed face and tear filled eyes from the magnitude of what he’d drawn your body.)

He let go of the nipple and flattened his palm on your ribs, sliding it down inch by inch until he paused on your low belly.

He toyed with the band of your panties.

“You’re wet for me? Does this needy pussy want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both!!”

He laughed again. But he went ahead, so it was worth it.

And heaven help you, there were fireworks. The bondage was working wonders for your mental need to be out of control. But Steve took it higher when he forced your legs wide and pinned them to the mattress.

And while spin class workouts did amazing things for your thighs, nothing topped super soldier strength. You were stuck. Legs pushed flat to the bed, hands cuffed to the head board and nothing stopping the extremity turned on man with his head between your legs.

He lied about giving your his mouth and fingers. At first he only used his mouth on your clit, licking around it, touching the tip of his tongue over it in slow flicks, then finally, finally, sucking.

Your body seized at the shock of pleasure, white hot and raw jerking through nerve endings frayed from lack of fulfillment.

He knew what pitch he needed to hear you moan at before he added his fingers.

He knew it because Steve Rogers is a man who studies all the angles of a situation and knows his enemy. Or in this case, knows his lover.

He rubs at your G-spot with the pad of his finger and you scream.

Your head falls back on the pillow and tears start to flow because it’s not enough.

“More, oh, please. Steve, I need-“

He growls. “I know what you need, babydoll. And I’ll give it to you when you’re a good girl and you hold back that orgasm for me. I don’t want you to come yet. Don’t you dare come. If you do I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”

Just the idea of him spanking you almost makes you lose it.

He backs off the intensity. And you start to sob from the brutal frustration of being taken so high and left without release.

His name begins to fall from your lips like a litany, as you start to beg.

“Steve! Please, I want to come!”

“Not yet. Hold back. You be my good girl and hold back. I don’t want to spank that sweet behind until it’s red, but I’ll do it.”

Your scream is gargled by a wave of pleasure that makes your whole body roll as it rips through you from head to toe.

“Let me come, damn it!”

Smack. He’s light and there’s a sting on your right inner thigh.

“Hold. It. Back!”

Screams become sobs. You can’t hold still. You’re fighting the restraints and trying to move but he’s not allowing it. All you can do is clench around his fingers and cry.

“Come for me, baby.”

Release floods you in a second when he gives permission.

The cord of tension snaps. Your muscles lock. The scream you felt building is nowhere to be found. Your voice disappears in the violence of the orgasm. It’s totally silent as your body takes control.

Your channel clamps down around his fingers. The orgasm pulses through your body like being set on fire.

Then you scream. And the muscles that had gone stiff suddenly quiver with release.

If Steve hadn’t held you down through it you’d have been snapping your hips and arching into the sensations, away from them.

He keeps going, pushing you through it until the orgasm is finished.

Then you cry.

Honestly crying, because of the intensity of the release.

You’d expected to get off. You hadn’t guessed that you would get obliterated by the world’s most intense orgasm.

Steve immediately crawls up and takes off the blind fold.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. Hold on to me.”

You move, trying to reciprocate when his arms go around you, but they’re still cuffed.

This makes you cry harder.

Steve rips them open, letting you free.

And then you’re in his arms and you can cry properly.

He rolls over with you in his arms, one arm tight around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head.

What shocks you is that he’s not nervous, apologizing, or asking if you’re hurt. He’s petting you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere. Hold on to me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The warm hand moving over your back is a delicious comfort. Almost as good as being held to the strong chest by arms thicker than most people’s legs.

When the storm of emotions passes, you blink up as Steve, a bit confused.

His smile is gentle and his eyes are filled with warmth.

“I did my research. You came down from that hard, didn’t you?”

Your answering “yeah,” is slurred.

He kisses your forehead. If you weren’t already boneless from your release, that would have finished you off.

“You were such a good girl for me. I can’t wait to do this again.”

With a tired smile you arch an eyebrow.

“But we can’t be done. I haven’t had you inside of me yet, soldier.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at the remark and you smirk.

“I still need you to fuck me, baby. I need to feel you finish on top of me and collapse into my arms. Please.”

You said please. And if he didn’t get assist a lady who needed his help, what kind of a hero was he?

#steve rogers #captain america #headcanon #smut #steve rogers smut #avengers #lemon #lemon rambles #chris evans #reader #steve rodgers x reader

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writing-by-gayrainbowbridge · 3 years

Text

Keep Fighting

Inspiration From This Lovely Prompt By murdermuffinkink:

Loki and Tony are in abusive relationships with each of their partners. Loki had long since given up on getting out of his own but when he sees Tony still struggling and fighting against Steve, he decides that if he can't get out of his own abusive relationship with Thor, he can at least help Tony get out of his.

⚠️Warnings: Abusive Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Omega Verse, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt, Etc.⚠️

Enjoy 💚❤

Loki had given up nearly two hundred years ago in getting away from Thor. He tried many times but Thor had a tight hold on his leash, never letting Loki get far.

So, after what felt like a thousand years of fighting his relationship with Thor, he finally gave up and gave in, simply letting it happen. At least it was less painful when he was pliant and obedient.

When he had fallen from the Bifrost, he had thought for a minute, maybe he could finally be free. Free of Thor and all the hurt he'd caused. But it was never so easy for him.

Thor managed to get his hands back on Loki after he lost during the attack on New York. Thor was determined to never let Loki slip away again, using Loki's 'evil villain' status as an excuse to restrict Loki's magic to the point that it was barely there anymore.

Loki didn't tell anyone of how he was tortured for months and forced to attack Midgard. Who would believe him?

For a minute, Loki had been glad he lost. It was always the plan to lose, to be captured by the Avengers and taken back to Asgard and thrown in a cell. At least then, Thor wouldn't be able to touch him again.

But Thor never ended up taking him back to Asgard. He had instead asked Steve Rogers, the leader of the Avengers group if Loki could stay on Midgard.

Thor had played all teary eyed, telling the Avengers how he knew Loki was good inside, how he just needed some time to remember who he was. Not that Loki could forget. He remembered who he was before Thor had taken his whole world and freedom away from him. There had never been a choice for him.

Steve had agreed to let Loki stay, apparently moved by Thor caring so much for the wayward villain, so long as it was at the Tower where the Avengers could keep an eye on him.

They figured out soon enough why that was, how Thor cared for Loki as a lover. It sickened Loki that the Avengers didn't have a problem with it, that it was completely fine.

Sometimes, Loki had dark thoughts. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he simply ended it all. Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? He was sure Thor would but that wasn't because he cared. He would only be upset that he lost his favourite toy.

The only reason Loki hadn't tried was because one, it was ridiculously hard to kill himself, not because he wasn't able to go through with it but because he was a god. God's were terribly hard to kill. Loki would know. He'd tried to kill Thor hundreds of times before. Never mind how many times he'd tried to kill himself.

And two was because of a certain mortal genius.

Loki wasn't sure at first what it was about Tony Stark that drew him. Sure, Tony was rather handsome and very intelligent for a mortal but there was something else about him that Loki...related to. The nearly defeated look in his eyes that were always cast towards the floor.

It wasn't until Loki saw Tony with Steve that he understood what it was that drew him.

It was early in the morning, Loki always getting up before Thor, (because if he didn't, he would end up under Thor for the rest of the morning) sitting at the kitchen table. Loki didn't speak to the other Avengers much, opting to pretend he was too tired to talk so he didn't have to converse with anyone. Nor, he thought, did any of them want to.

Steve was making everyone breakfast like he did every morning, Natasha and Clint talking to one another. Bruce wasn't yet awake and Tony was a wild card. He could still be asleep or he could have been holed up in his lab, getting no sleep the entire night.

Apparently the latter as Tony arrived a little while later as Steve was serving up breakfast, Tony looking bleary eyed as he made a beeline for the coffee machine.

Steve turned his head, watching with a frown as Tony poured himself a mug. "You didn't come to bed last night."

"I got busy," Tony said with a slight shrug, giving Steve a gentle smile. "Did you miss me, Captain?"

Steve frowned disapprovingly. "I'm being serious, Tony. I told you not to be in the lab all the time."

Tony sighed as he filled a mug. "I've been getting plenty of sleep, alright? Relax, Stevie, I'm fine."

"Tony," Steve said, his tone taking on a slightly warning edge, stepping closer to the genius.

Loki was the only one who saw Tony flinch, eyes flicking down to the floor. "I'll try not to go in the lab so much, okay?"

"Good," Steve said with a nod, a smile suddenly on his face at Tony's agreement. "Want some breakfast?"

Loki glanced at Tony who wasn't smiling, eyes down at his drink as he nodded his head. Tony looked up at the others, almost like he was checking to see if anyone had noticed and frowned when he saw Loki watching him.

But Loki didn't look away and neither did Tony. Not until strong arms suddenly wrapped around Loki from behind and a voice spoke in his ear. "There you are, Loki."

Loki didn't greet Thor back, instead tearing his gaze from Tony's as he looked pointedly back at his plate of untouched food.

After that, Loki continued to watch how Tony acted around Steve. He was always defiant at first, always arguing with whatever Steve told him but as soon as Steve made one threatening movement, so subtle that nobody but Loki noticed, Tony would immediately shut up and agree with whatever Steve had said.

There was a difference between him and Tony though. Tony was clearly still fighting back whereas Loki had already given up.

It was...refreshing though it hurt, reminding Loki of a time he used to fight back too. He didn't want to see Tony suffer how he did but he didn't know how he was meant to help without alerting Thor or even Steve to what he was doing.

But Loki would try to help Tony fight.

Because if he couldn't save himself, he could at least try and save Tony.

...

Tony wished he could get away from Steve sometimes. That he could simply leave.

But he couldn't. Nobody would listen to an Omega complain about how their Alpha abused them. Abused Omega's were always ignored, told that they were overreacting, that they were too soft and couldn't handle a little pressure.

Of course, he could always just kick Steve out of the Tower, make him leave. But that could cause more problems than Tony wanted to deal with. Fury would have his hide if he pulled something like that. As much as Tony didn't want to admit it, the world needed Captain America.

So Tony gritted his teeth and pushed through it. Besides, it wasn't so bad. Steve could get angry and a little too rough sometimes but it wasn't anything that Tony couldn't deal with.

And it had been fine until he realized he wasn't the only one who was being forced into a relationship he didn't want.

Jarvis had brought it to his attention, how Loki didn't eat much, barely got enough sleep and was constantly injured in some way.

Tony, despite being a genius, had been a little slow on trying to figure out how and why Loki was getting so hurt when all he did was lounge around the Tower.

But then he thought of Thor, how the god was always hovering over Loki. At least, Tony had assumed it was because he didn't want Loki getting up to no good. But it had been months since the attack and Loki hadn't tried to do a single evil thing in all that time.

It made Tony wonder if Loki was really that evil to begin with. For a guy apparently hellbent on ruling Earth, he had given up pretty damn easy, barely putting up a fight when Thor cuffed him. Almost like he had wanted to lose.

But that hadn't been the point. The point had been Loki getting hurt and as much as Loki was a villain, Tony didn't like people getting hurt under his roof.

It didn't take much snooping for Tony to figure out how Loki was getting himself hurt. Or more, who was getting Loki hurt.

Tony hated it but he knew there was nothing he could really do. He had gone up against Thor before with his suit and if Steve hadn't stepped in, he wasn't sure what would have happened.

Besides, it wasn't like Tony was in a better position. Steve would be furious if he found out Tony was taking a villains side or say he was being influenced somehow.

Still, Tony wished he could punch Thor and make it hurt.

But what was one little Omega going to do against a literal god? How could he help Loki when he could barely help himself?

...

"What were you thinking, Tony?!"

"I just—"

"That's right! You weren't thinking, were you?"

Loki watched along with the other Avengers as Tony was shouted at by Steve, doing nothing to stop it. Apparently the mission had gone sideways and Tony had nearly gotten himself extremely hurt, throwing himself into the line of fire to protect one of the others.

Loki wasn't sure why Steve was so upset. They were superheroes, weren't they? It was their job to protect and if they got hurt, that was a part of the risk.

Of course, Loki hadn't been there to see it for himself. He wasn't trusted to go on missions with the Avengers (nor did he want to) so he had to stay at the Tower with Thor watching him. Only, Thor did a lot more than simply watch him. His hips were already bruising from the blond's harsh grip.

Tony was staring at the floor now, not even trying to defend himself as Steve lectured on and on. Nobody said anything until Steve finally finished, taking a breather.

"Come on, Tony," Steve said finally, grabbing Tony's wrists in a too tight grip and dragged him to the elevator before anyone, even Tony, could get a word out.

Loki watched them go, fingers twitching in his lap, itching to race after the pair and yank Tony away from Steve but he couldn't. Without his magic, he was useless to help. All it would do was make Steve angrier and Thor would be even less impressed.

Loki saw Tony later in the day. Loki was on the couch, reading a book. Thor was thankfully down in the gym training and had ordered Loki to stay in their room.

Of course, Loki hadn't listened. Just because he had given up on getting away from Thor, it didn't mean he listened to everything the Thunder god demanded of him.

So when Tony walked into the kitchen for coffee, Loki watched the slight limp the mortal sported with narrowed green eyes.

As if knowing he was being watched, Tony turned his head, looking surprised to see Loki sitting on the couch. "Oh, hi Lokes. I didn't think anyone would be out here."

Loki raised an eyebrow, glancing at Tony's wrists and noted the bruises ringing around each one, just barely hidden beneath his long sleeved shirt. "You sound disappointed."

"No, I'm not, I just..." Tony sighed. "Never mind."

Loki frowned slightly, sitting up a little straighter. "Steve has been...treating you right lately?"

Tony stared at him, eyes going a little wide. "Excuse you."

Loki looked pointedly at Tony's wrists making the genius glance down at them and pale, quickly tugging the sleeves down.

Loki sighed, shaking his head. "Why do you put up with it? You could leave him."

Tony looked up at him, still looking rather pale though almost angry but it didn't seem to be directed at Loki. "Like you with Thor?"

Loki gave Tony a surprised look. He didn't think anyone had realized what Thor did to him.

"Jarvis," Tony said simply in explanation.

Loki pressed his lips into a thin line. "That's different."

"How exactly?" Tony asked, setting his mug on the kitchen bench as he walked over to Loki.

Loki glared at him for a moment but he wasn't angry. Just...upset. He thought Tony would understand.

But then, Tony hadn't given up like he had.

"You wouldn't understand," Loki whispered. "Nor do I want you to."

Tony's expression became a little sad, almost as if he did understand. Loki couldn't look at him as Tony sat beside him, gently leaning into the god who after a long minute, did the same.

Maybe Loki couldn't help Tony as much as he hoped but he could still do small things like this to show Tony he wasn't alone.

Or maybe Loki simply liked feeling that he wasn't alone himself.

...

Tony felt like he was minutes away from breaking down, constantly on the verge of tears as he did what he needed to throughout the day.

Steve had done something unforgivable last night. Tony could barely look at him the whole day though Steve had kept his distance. He didn't know why he was so surprised since Steve seemed to have no problem hitting him and yelling at him but this...

Tony had said no, had told him to stop and Steve...Steve just...

Steve raped him.

Oh god's, he was going to be sick—

"Anthony?"

Tony forced his slightly watery eyes up to meet those green ones he knew belonged to Loki. "O-oh. Hey, Lokes."

Loki frowned deeply, taking in Tony's tearful brown eyes. "What happened?"

Tony swallowed repeatedly, trying and failing to form words. How could he even begin to explain?

But Loki...Loki would understand. Loki knew what it was like...to be...to be...

A sob burst past Tony's lips before he could stop it and in one second and the next, he was gathered up in Loki's arms, held tight against the god's chest as Tony trembled, tears falling down his cheeks.

Loki didn't ask, didn't force Tony to talk. He didn't need to. Tony was sure Loki already figured it out on his own.

Loki didn't let him go though.

...

After that, Loki and Tony looked out for each other.

Whenever Loki came from the room he shared with Thor, bruises all over his aching body, Tony was there, offering to watch a movie together or hang out with him in the safety of his lab. It was either a distraction from the pain or a way to get away from Thor without him realizing it.

And when Tony came back after an argument with Steve or walked into the kitchen looking so pale that Loki barely had to guess what had happened, Loki would be there to pull the genius into his arms and hold him tight, letting him break down in his arms.

They both hid the abuse they endured from the others, either afraid of being judged as weak and pathetic or worried the others would think they deserved it and contribute to the abuse.

But they didn't mind so much because they had one another to keep each other from falling into their dark thoughts.

It took a while for both of them to realize that despite their situation, despite being in a relationship (even if it wasn't one they wanted) and despite both being Omega's, they wanted each other.

Tony realized first, Loki still being in denial, not because he didn't want Tony, much the opposite, but because he knew it would lead nowhere. If Thor found out he had feelings for someone else, Tony would be in danger of Thor. Loki couldn't do that to him.

It still didn't stop Loki from one day kissing Tony in the privacy of his lab, wishing things were different.

...

Loki knew he was going to get into trouble. If Thor caught him...

But it didn't matter. He didn't care anymore. He'd stopped caring about his own pain a long time ago.

Especially since the dagger was slowly bloodying his wrists. No, he wasn't trying to kill himself. There was no point. This wouldn't be enough to kill himself. Blood loss was nothing for a god.

But it was enough to cut through the magic restraints on his wrists.

Why would Loki risk Thor's wrath if he caught Loki doing this?

Because he had passed by Tony's room earlier in the day, had heard him scream and something in Loki ripped apart at the sound, making him throw all caution to the wind.

So he had gone through Thor's things, finding the enchanted daggers that Thor had taken from Loki and used them to cut the restraints off, ignoring whenever it cut into his skin. The pain was nothing to knowing that Tony was in danger from his Alpha.

As soon as he was free of the bands, he teleported from his room to Tony's, not caring for what he might find, only caring about protecting Tony, keeping Tony safe.

But surprisingly, he didn't find Steve there, towering over Tony. Though Tony was clearly not okay.

"Anthony," Loki whispered, kneeling down in front of the figure shaking at the foot of the bed on the floor. "Anthony, Darling, look at me."

Tony wouldn't meet his eyes though, legs against his chest. Loki took comfort in the fact that Tony was clothed though it didn't mean much. If it had happened again, Tony simply could have redressed himself before Loki arrived.

But that wasn't the case. Loki knew because he soon saw the cuts on Tony's wrists and felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably. Tony had tried to kill himself.

"Oh, Anthony, no..." Loki whispered, grimacing at the blood on Tony's hands.

"He s-saw it," Tony stuttered out, shivering slightly. "He saw it and h-he got angry and grabbed m-my wrists and i-it opened back u-up and he h-hit me and...and..."

"Sh, sh. Hush, Anthony," Loki murmured, taking Tony's hands, ignoring the blood over them.

Tony sobbed, shaking his head, trying in vain to tug his hands back. "I can't do it anymore. I c-can't, please, Loki. I don't want him to t-touch me anymore."

Loki's heart broke, remember thinking the same thing two hundred years ago. "You don't have to do this anymore, I swear it."

Tears streaked Tony's face as he continued shaking his head, shivering and muttering under his breath. "There's n-nowhere we c-can g-go and I can't l-leave you h-here with h-him."

Loki had been wondering why Tony hadn't simply got up and left yet despite all of Steve's abuse. Now that he knew why, he both wanted to hug Tony and call him an idiot.

"You won't be leaving me here with him," Loki said, gently brushing his fingers over the cut and was relieved to see his magic working to heal the self inflicted wound. "In fact, you're coming with me, off of this realm entirely."

Tony stared with wide eyes at the newly healed skin, then up at Loki. "You have you're m-magic back? How? W-when?

"About five minutes ago," Loki stated plainly. "Do you want to leave with me, Anthony?"

Tony took a shaky breath, nodding his head. "P-please."

That was all Loki needed to tighten his grip on Tony's hand, pulling him into his waiting arms, pressing his lips to Tony's like he'd been yearning to do since the first time in the lab.

He remembered the words Tony had told him that day after their kiss, echoing in his head now.

'Keep fighting, Loki. Keep fighting because you're all that's stopping me from giving up. Keep fighting for me.'

And Loki had. He had but now...now they didn't have to fight anymore.

In one moment and the next, the pair vanished from the floor of Tony's room and reappeared somewhere far away where neither of them could ever be hurt by any Alpha ever again.

...

@murdermuffinloki I was going to add Bucky into this but then I'd end up writing a whole damn book and I have enough to write as it is but I just couldn't resist writing a oneshot for this, hsusyjwdj. Hope you enjoyed! :D

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mx-barnes · 2 years

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OhmygodyouresuchagoodwritericantevennnT-T❤️🔥✨ could u write somethin like this? It would make my whole damn day😭😭 bucky x reader who gets hurt on a mission and gives everyone a scare, ending up on bedrest with some very overprotective friends and a completely batshit crazy protective bf 🙈✨ maybe bucky pov?? Thats just hard to find but epic... Tysm whether u write it or not!! Love your work❤️❤️

OHHHHHH MYYYY GODDDDDDD. THANK YOU❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😣😣😣😣😣 you have no idea how much this means to me like ahhhhh thank you soooo much. I mean honestly, I am soooooo glad that people actually enjoy my writing❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰😭😭😭😭😭😭 like I’m going to cry. Thank you so much... also I hope this is ok It is still kind of protective Bucky

Close Call Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Hydra, mission stuff, canon level violence, Brief mention of Bucky's past kind of, minor injuries, kidnapping

Word Count: 1k

He had told you that it was too dangerous to go on this mission alone, but you had assured him you would come back safe and sound. Yet here he was on the spare they kept around just for cases like this.

It had been a simple mission get in get out, comms were to stay on at all times and in constant contact with either Steve or Bucky, but you had just missed your check-in and Bucky's mind had immediately had gone to the worst possible case scenario. You were either dead or gravely injured. The Hydra base was supposed to be empty. No threats for you to take out even though you were more than qualified to do so. You had taken down Bucky more times than he could count and you could go toe to toe with Natasha and Yelena. Some of the best-trained widows. So why had you missed your check-in?

Bucky had been hovering over Steve's shoulder, every second since you had left for your mission. Waiting to hear your sweet voice over the comm every hour, like you promised you would.

Steve would never admit this but he was also scared when you missed your check-in. You had always been punctual, that was one of the things Steve admired you for. The way you were able to always arrive on time or even earlier if possible. So you missing a check-in like this was practically inconceivable. Yet, Steve kept a straight face if only for Bucky.

"Where are they, Steve? Why haven't they checked in?" Bucky's mind going a mile a minute.

"It's ok Buck calm down," Steve reassured but Bucky didn't buy it you were never one to miss a check-in.

"We have to go," Steve was about to give him a lecture on how they couldn't. "I don't care if it's against protocol that my partner out there I am not leaving this up to chance."

With that Steve decided there was no fighting him on this so they boarded the extra jet with Sam, Tony and Bruce. Taking off faster than normal. Steve debriefed everyone once they got in the air. It was about an hour ride to the base. Bucky wouldn't stop pacing the jet back and forth, trying to rid the thoughts within his mind.

"It's okay Buck they are going to be fine," Steve said patting him on the back.

"I never should've let them go on this mission alone," Bucky's mind wouldn't stop calling him a failure. He felt like a failure. That this was his fault.

By the time the team had landed Bucky rushed out of the jet in search of you. Ignoring the calls of Steve to be careful.

When he got inside he noticed a few guards and ripped them to shreds. He didn't care how much blood he shed as long as you were safe. Racing up and down the halls until he found the room you were kept in. Four guards were posted outside the door. He thought carefully about this he could radio it in and get Steve to come to help him but that might take too long he had no clue what state you were in so he decided to trust that he could take on four of them. He did so with ease it was obvious Hydra had slacked off on their guards after they had lost him. He entered the room when he found you knocked out in the chair blood streaking down your gorgeous face. Fear struck him immediately not caring about his surroundings but as soon as he stepped closer a figure appeared behind you pointing a gun to your head. "Not another step Soldat."

Bucky froze he knew that voice. It was the voice of Alexander Pierce and he had a gun pressed to your head.

"What do you want Peirce," he growled out.

He simply just laughed, "What do I want," he said pushing the gun even deeper into your head. "I want you to come back, join Hydra but willingly this time."

Bucky looked into the man's cold eyes then glanced down to you. You were slowly starting to regain consciousness. If Bucky could get closer to you he could cut your binds and then get you out of here. "One condition."

"You are in no condition to bargain."

"All I want is for them to be free, then you have yourself a deal."

You had finally recovered but didn't lift your head as to not alert Pierce that you had.

"Fine," he grumbled out cutting your ties.

Bucky walked closer to him about to shake his hand but instead disarmed him. "Run," Bucky turned looking you dead in the eye, and you did.

Even though you were in incredible pain you ran. You ran until you ran into a wall of muscles. The person's arms wrapped around you. You struggled, yelling for the person to get off. Then the person spoke, "Y/n, Y/n. Stop it's Steve," as soon as he said it you relaxed. He picked you up and carried you out to the jet.

Meanwhile, Bucky was in the middle of trying to kill Alexander Pierce. He knew you were safe with Steve but he had to finish this once and for all. Finally, getting the upper hand, Bucky shot Pierce in the head dropping the gun and immediately running back to the jet where you were.

When he arrived he scanned finding you on the table and ran over to your side. "Doll," he exhaled.

"Hey baby," you smirked.

"Hey yourself you scared me you know."

"I know, I'm sorry I should've brought someone else along with me."

"That doesn't matter right now. You are safe that's all that matters to me," and that was the truth, he didn't care that you were reckless, all that mattered was that you were here, that you were alive.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too doll."

The rest of the jet ride back was quiet with Bucky staying at your side the whole ride, and when you guys landed he carried you to the medbay. Then to your shared room and laid you down.

"You are never getting away from me doll. Death is the only way you are getting out of this and that's not happening anytime soon on my watch." You just kissed him, "Deal."

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mx-barnes asks

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seabass17 · 3 years

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All that’s left | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/n: This is my first time writing something based on a video I found on TikTok, it’s not exactly the same, but it is kinda the idea. I hope you like it and please let me know if you might want a part two. Also, I apologize if you find some errors, im doing my best since English is not my first language. Anyway, happy reading!!

All that’s left masterlist

Pt. 2

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries (broken ribs, cuts, dislocated shoulder)

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: She still can’t get used to the feeling of being left behind by the people she once called family. After being hurt, she decides that she will give them a chance, and when they failed, she then makes the decision to disappear and start brand new. Of course, she leaves a letter that will left the team standing in the dark, and with more questions than answers about a lot of things, while discovering that she has more of one past that she let to know.

The sound of the rain hitting against the window of my living room was the only thing that could be heard in the silence of my apartment. I looked over my desk where the paper is waiting for me to pick up the pen and get this over with, but somehow, somewhere deep inside of me, a part is waiting, holding on to the smallest of hope that maybe, just maybe, he is going to come knocking to my door asking why the i haven’t showed up to the compound for the last three days, or why i didn’t text nor call the rest of the team. I wanted to see if they would notice my absence so I left the compound on Thursday. I got the answer to my question when Sunday arrived and my inbox was clear; no one noticed. Today is Tuesday, my apartment is thirteen minutes away, fifthteen if you literally fly or speed up, but still, no one came or text.

To be honest, I'm not surprised, that doesn’t mean it hurts less though. I know i should probably think this through instead of making the impulse decision of grabbing my things and get the hell out of here, going somewhere i can start fresh, somewhere i can start over and get a chance to get over all the things that happened, find people that actually cared for me, or maybe not finding anyone at all and die alone.

I stand up from my bed and go to my desk, it’s time to get this over with. I start writing the only thing that they get to keep.

“Dear Avengers, You’re probably wondering where I am, or you just don’t care, maybe you don’t even find this. If someone from the building finds this, keep it in case they ever come looking for me; thank you. So, this is it, this is my goodbye. You should consider yourselves lucky, given the fact that none of you even deserves a goodbye because you are the ones causing it. I could tell you the reason why I'm leaving, and you know what, I will tell you. I chose to trust you. The one thing I feared the most was trusting people, but when I joined the team, I thought ‘well, maybe i can trust them, they are my team’, guess what, I was wrong. You should really look out for your teammates Stark, oh, and by the way, you might want to look deeper into why the operation that saved those 30 civilians on may 20, didn’t go south, you might even discover its the very same reason of why i didn’t showed up in the compound for a week, yeah, they were busy torturing the information out of me for a week; information that, by the way, i didn't give, hence why the operation went great. Something even more funny, is that behind every mistake, every wrong that each one of you have ever done, I’m the one that suffered the consequences. Don’t believe me? Then you might want to do your homework, because dear teammates, I’m the one you couldn’t protect. By the time you find out the things you’ve done, I will be long gone. I'm very good at disappearing, Natasha (once she figures it out) can confirm that. I wish things would be different and we could be… family, but that’s never going to happen; not anymore. As of now, there will be no record of my name ever existing, everything that once belonged to me, will be burned, and as of me, well, I am no one.”

I fold the piece of paper and put it in the envelope, once sealed, I write down the word my name in the center so they know. I take a last look at my apartment. Everything is intact, the furniture that came with it is the same as always, the only thing different is that it seems empty without all my belongings. I grabbed my luggage and exited the apartment and then went downstairs.

“Hey Richard” I say to the man that is in the reception like I always do

“Hey miss, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I'm leaving, for good. If someone comes asking for me, my friends, you tell them that you haven’t seen me. Oh, I left a letter for them upstairs, could you please make sure that it gets to them? Only if the show up, do not sent it”

He looked at me a little sad and confused.

“Oh, well, you will me missed miss, I hope you find happiness and yes, i promised i will make sure they get your letter”

“Thank you Richard, for everything, oh, and this is for you” I handed him an envelope with some cash. He looked like he was about to say something about how he couldn’t accept it but I cut him off. “Please, just take it, please”. He sighs but takes the envelope.

“Thank you miss…”

I smiled at him and then turned around to grab a cab. I'm supposed to be in the airport in 30 minutes. Once in the airport, the only thing left is to start again, be someone brand new.

*3rd person POV*

Friday morning was a little colder than usual in the avengers compound, everyone on the team was up and in the kitchen having breakfast. Everything was normal, until someone noticed that someone was missing.

“Hey guys” Bucky said right before taking a bite of the pancakes Wanda made earlier for everyone. “Have any of you seen y/n?”

The team stayed quiet, realizing that they haven’t seen her for quite a while, not until Barnes brought it up.

“Uh… maybe she took a trip?” Steve broke the silence while the rest started thinking when was the last time they had seen her.

“No, she was here when we arrived from the Jersey mission, it must have been like what, two days, maybe three?” Tony said. Bucky could feel his insides burning and twisting.

“No… that was eight days ago” Vision intervened. The avengers felt like someone just blew up the white house. Her teammate was missing for eight days and no one even noticed. Bucky was the first one to react by getting up and running to her dorm, only to find it exactly the way it was when he last saw her. He searched her dorm looking for something out of place that could tell him that maybe you were in trouble and that he has to come save you, but he is left desperate when he doesn’t find anything.

“She’s not here, everything is intact” He informs once he is back in the kitchen.

“Everyone” Steve calls out, “get dressed, we’re going to look for her. Let’s start in her apartment”

The team leaves to change their clothes and next thing they know, they are in her building. Without saying a word to the receptionist, they all made their way up to her apartment.

“Hey! wait-” he goes unnoticed because the avengers are already on her door. Wanda knocks on the door.

“Y/n? You there?” no one responds. “Y/n come on, don’t be mad at us” Natasha says.

After a few seconds they all start to worry when the door is unlocked, and they worry even more once they see the apartment completely empty.

“What the-” Bucky says

“Where are her things?” Wanda asks to no one especifically

“Where is she?” Thor says

“What the hell is going on?” Tony says a little louder

Bucky storms out of the empty apartment and goes to the man in the reception

“What the hell happened to apartment 108, where is y/n y/l/n?” he asks with worry and anxiety in his voice.

“I’m sorry, but, who are you?” the man asks the rather intimidating group of people in front of him.

“We’re the Avengers man” Peter says and the man suddenly realizes and his face changes from a confused one, to a sad one that makes the team’s stomach drop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he sighs, “She left me indicated to give this to you” he hands them an envelope that looks like it's been sitting there for a while. Bucky stares at the envelope like it's some kind of nuclear weapon that if you touch it, it could kill you. Wanda notices, grabs the envelope and stares at the paper in her hands.

“When did she leave this?” She asked

“Three days ago”

“And why didn’t you send it to us?” Tony asked, getting angry at the poor man.

“Because she specifically said to handed it to you, if you ever came looking for her”

Bucky could feel the tears in his eyes start to form.

“She said that? `Ever’?” Bucky asked almost to himself. The man slowly nodded. Natasha could feel how her stomach started burning from the guilt and the pain of not noticing that her friend was missing for eight days, little does she know that the entire team felt exactly the same.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y pull the records on the mission on may 20 and also show me the status of y/n on that time” Tony said to the AI and after a few seconds later, pictures of the building that that was about to be blown out by HYDRA with 30 civilians inside showed up. While the avengers were sitting in the conference room looking at the pictures, the AI started talking.

“Mission of may 20. Information was given that HYDRA kept 30 civilians inside the building with the intention of blowing it up with them inside. Source of the information unknown. The Avengers came to the building and successfully rescued the civilians safely moments before the building was blown up. Agent y/n y/l/n was on an undercover mission on a HYDRA facility at the same time, the communication was lost three days before the civilians situation, and around the same time, the information about the building was given anonymously the very same day that communication with Agent y/l/n was lost; Agent y/l/n returned a week later. Medical record found, access denied”

“Override, Tony Stark” Tony said after a good couple of seconds, the pieces starting to fall in place.

“Access complete. Medical records of Agent y/l/n on may 27th. Access restrained: Agent y/l/n. She presented with several cuts all over her body, three broken ribs, a second grade concussion, a sprained ankle and a dislocated shoulder. Patient refused treatment and was only given medication for the pain”

The seconds were passing and no one in the room would break the silence. The pieces were starting to fall in place, Tony felt nauseous. He yelled at her for being irresponsible for staying a little longer than she should have in the undercover mission, given the fact that she checked in on june 10th, meaning that she waited two weeks for her injuries to heal enough so that he could yell at her for not being good enough. He fell down to his chair, feeling like if he stayed up, he might throw up.

“She was the one that gave us the information about the building” Sam broke the silence. “She was the one that got tortured, and still managed to pass through the data so that we, could be the heroes while she was the one that got beaten up”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is she?” Natasha asked the AI, and it responded after a few seconds.

“No information found”

Natasha frowned, Bucky looked up to the screen to see the red sentence. It only made him want to scream more.

“What does ‘no information found’ mean?” Bucky asked on the edge of falling apart.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y” Steve called

“No information available” it said this time.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, look for y/n y/l/n” Tony said, thinking maybe he needed to check what was wrong with the AI.

“No records found for y/n y/l/n”

“Detail,” Stark said.

The AI showed what it said before, there was no record of her name, it was like it never existed. No phone number, no mail address, no nothing, just a little picture of an abandoned building or mansion somewhere in the world.

“Wait” Natasha said, “I know that building, F.R.I.D.A.Y, do a close up on that picture”

“What is it?” Wanda asked

“It was where The Red Room used to operate” tha AI responded

“Why does it appear related to her?” Bucky asked, fearing the answer

“The picture was taken when a girl escaped The Red Room in 2002, she eliminated four people on the way, the age or who it was is still unknown” the AI responded.

“Oh god…” Natasha whispered but Bucky manage it to hear it

“Natasha, what is it?” he asked

“2002, that’s three years after i managed to escape, there was a girl, we were some sort of friends, i promised that i was going to get us out of here, but i couldn’t take her with me so i left her. Two years later I contacted someone on the inside so that I could get to her and plan her escape, but she was angry at me and said that she was fine, a year later she did escape, killing four people on her way” Natasha explained. Everything makes sense now, why she looked familiar, why she had exactly the same skills as Natasha. The team noticed it too, but they assumed it was because she had trained very hard to be an avenger.

“What was her name?” Vision asked.

“Eliza” Natasha said

“Wait a minute…” Bucky said, lifting her head looking at Natasha. “Was that her real name?”

“No, she didn’t wanted to say her real one” Natasha said

“Eliza, that’s y/n’s grandmother’s name” Bucky said and the room fell into a silence where you could hear the wind outside.

“In the letter…” Steve started, “She said that you could confirm that she was good at disappearing completely once you figured it out, so, does this mean that…”

“Y/n is Eliza” Natasha concluded

“She was in The Red Room” Bucky added.

“She said in her letter that all of us did her wrong,” Sam said, “how are we supposed to know what the hell we do to her? She’s been in the team for what, two and a half years? And just now we realized that she was the one that gave us the data that saved 30 people and got her tortured, and that she was trained in The Red Room like Black Widow here. What else are we missing?” he added.

“Guess there’s only one thing we can do” Steve said, looking at Tony.

“And what’s that?” Wanda asked

“We find her”

#avengers #bucky barnes #imagines #marvel #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #the red room #natasha romonova #tony stark #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #peter parker #hydra

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

Text

Kidnapped

Bucky's not naturally a worrier. Not really, not for anyone else except a select few individuals that he dutifully kept close. And when you waltzed into his life, he found himself constantly worried about you. Everything and anything about you, he found himself completely and utterly concerned with. Eventually, he'd learned to back off a little. To trust that you were an adult and could take care of yourself.

But today, he can't talk himself off that ledge.

That off-putting feeling of wrongness.

And he's getting really worried about you. You went on a mission earlier, texted him as you landed that you were going to the corner store and then you were coming right back with an hour to spare for your movie night. You were supposed to come right back.

Right back.

And that was over two hours ago.

Now it's 6:30, and he's been anxiously waiting for you since you were supposed to meet him an hour ago for your weekly TV watching night. There's an uneasiness settling in his gut, you've never been late for you weekly tradition with him before.

It feels off, not just that you're gone. It's everything. It's that you're not texting him minute-by-minute, play-by-play. You're not calling him asking what snacks he wants even though you know that he likes those sour gummy worms you got him one time.

It's strange, and he's not one to ignore that gut feeling that's kept him alive all these years.

"Hey, has anyone seen-" Bucky starts to ask the room filled with various teammates.

"Barnes, we got a problem," Tony urgently interrupts him, nudging his head and pulling him into the conference room. "Just got an anonymous tip- thought you should see it."

"Go ahead," he says, though Tony's not really holding his attention as much as you are.

"I want you to stay calm," Tony says, clicking the link. The large screen is suddenly filled with a video of you. You, completely unconscious in some unknown location.

"When was this sent?" Bucky demands, standing up so quickly that his chair goes skidding across the floor.

"Team, I need everyone in here. Code, uh, missing teammate," Tony announces over the intercom. Though not fast enough for Bucky- within 60 seconds, most of the available team is here: Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Sam, Wanda, and Vision.

"What happened? Who's missing?" Steve asks as the last person to rush into the room.

Tony opens the link again, showing the clip of you once again. "I have an anonymous link - that's all we have so far."

"Okay, what if it was doctored?" Bruce asks. "That doesn't mean she's missing."

"Yes, it does," Bucky grits. "She went to the store two hours ago. We were supposed to meet at 5:30."

"And it's only," Bruce looks down at this watch. "6:35. She could just be late."

"It's Thursday?" Sam asks. "Golden Girls night - she wouldn't be late for that."

"That's what I said," Bucky agrees.

"We're gonna get back to the fact that you two watch Golden Girls together," Tony remarks. "But Barnes and Wilson are right. She's not responsive- her phone was turned off. I think we need to find her and find her fast."

"Okay, so where do we sta-"

That's when a new video starts loading on the screen. "What the hell?" Tony says, violently tapping buttons trying to get his technology back.

"Hello, Avengers," a masked man eerily announces. "I think I have something that belongs to you."

All the lights turn on in the room the masked man is standing in and just behind him they see you. You're being held in a large glass-like container and still completely unconscious with a large black collar around your neck.

That's when Tony gets a call from an unknown number.

"Answer it," Bucky demands.

Tony nods, picking up his phone and putting it on speakerphone. "Who is this?"

"You chose the wrong person to steal from, Avengers," the man eerily speaks like he knows they're all listening. "Now you're going to give me the artifact you stole back. Or I'll kill your pet."

"Damn it. Give her back. Give her back or so help me, God-" Bucky barks.

"You're in no position to make threats. I'll send you the coordinates. Oh, and you may want to hurry- I have a lot of fun planned for your friend."

You're engulfed in darkness, the heaviness of your limbs is finally fading. As you finally regain feeling in your limbs, you jolt to your feet. "Oh, look who is awake!" A man in front of you exclaims. "I think I'll keep this camera on- you can watch how you kill one of your own," he remarks then hangs up.

As the man moves out of frame and zooms in on you, they can see as you try to take in your surroundings. You're in a clear glass container, shackled to the bottom of it. There's a large pipe leading into the box. "What's going on?" you groggily ask.

"The Avengers have taken something of mine. In return, I've taken their little pet."

"And I'm the little pet?" you ask, pointing your finger at yourself in disbelief.

"Yes."

Your hand flies at the glass, instinctively pounding on it and trying to get a feel for the sturdiness of it.

"Ah, ah," the man tsks. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You break the glass, if your friends decide to try any heroics- I'll press this button and kill you instantly."

"Ooooohhh," you exhale shakily, though it sounds more out of amusement than fear. "James' going to be so mad...You know he's always telling me I need to be more careful. I think this is the kind of thing he's talking about."

"This is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about," Bucky shouts at the screen.

"You know she can't hear you, right?" Steve asks, putting his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

"I imagine they'll all be upset when they watch you slowly drown," the man says, sending another fresh wave of dread over Bucky.

"This containers gonna fill up with water?" you ask, pointing to the large pipe leading inside the container. "And they're watching this right now? Like you're filming this?" you question plainly, pointing at the camera.

"Correct."

You turn to look at the camera placed behind the man. You wave gleefully. "Hi, guys! Don't worry I'm okay!"

"You won't be for much longer."

And just like that ice cold water is rapidly funneling into the large glass container. You can't contain the yelp that leaves your mouth when your feet are hit with the most ice-cold water you've ever felt. It almost sends Bucky over the edge. You stick your hand out and try to channel your abilities, but it's useless. The man's head nudges to the collar on your neck, the man taunts, "You're powerless here."

"Hey, um Mr. Villain Man?" you shakily chatter. "I'm sorry I'm being rude, what's your name?"

"That's none of your concern," he hisses.

"Oh okay, I guess. It's just- the water's really cold."

"An incentive for your friends to move quickly."

"Don't worry. We'll get her back," Steve promises Bucky, who refuses to tear his eyes away from the screen.

"After she freezes to death or after she drowns?" Bucky snaps.

"Well this here- this is one of the reasons I have tracking devices on all of you. Just give me a minute and I'll find her," Tony says, already tapping away on his screen.

"Wait, what?" Steve challenged. "You have tracking devices- On all of us?"

"Of course I do. For this very reason," Tony shrugs, only half paying attention to Steve.

"How did you manage to hide tracking devices on our person?" Nat questions, slightly freaked out that Tony managed to chip her.

"Easy. Different spots for all of you. Microscopic, you can't even tell that they're there," Tony touts.

"Well, where's her's?"

"I put it in the charm on one of her bracelets."

"Her friendship bracelets?" Sam asks.

"Yes?"

"Who the hell got a charm?" Sam demands, holding up his wrist. "And why didn't I get one?"

Everyone looks down, examining their own bracelets. Everyone except Bucky, who doesn't need to look because he knows his bracelet like the back of his hand. Just like he knows the charm hanging off of it.

"You mean this charm?" Bucky asks, lifting his arm and gently flicking it knowing it'll piss off Sam even more.

Sam's mouth drops a little and he shakes his head. "I'm not gonna lie. That hurt- that stings."

Bucky rolls his eyes and turns back to the screen. "Tony," he urges, watching the way you're already shivering, though he knows you're doing your best to put on a brave front.

"Just give me a minute," Tony hisses.

"So, we're just going to wait?" you ask, letting your eyes wander around the room.

"Yes," he man sighs in frustration.

"Soooo," you start again, kicking your foot through the cold water and making it splash around. "Do you do this a lot? Kidnap Avengers?"

"You're hardly an Avenger," the man laughs bitterly. "You could be the most powerful being on this Earth and yet you settle for being their little sidekick."

"I like working with my friends."

"Hmm...and where are you friends now? How long did it take them to realize you were gone?"

You shrug, your words coming through uneven breaths. "I don't know. But I do know, that James will scold me for this after I get out of here." You turn to the camera. "Hey, when I get back can you guys tell me if I used that word right? James likes to scold me."

Bucky looks down pinching the bridge of his nose. While the man talks to you again, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, Steve told me that James doesn't show affection like most of us. He's actually kind of grumpy, but I think he yells at me because he cares."

"Or maybe he's not as good of a friend as you think?"

You ponder that for a moment. And Bucky's heart drops, his stomach twists with the thought that you could even doubt how much he cares about you.

"Nah," you wave your hand dismissively. "I mean sometimes he's confusing. And I don't really know how much he likes me, but I know that he does."

"So naive, thinking they'd give you the time of day if you couldn't do the things you can do."

"That's not true. They're all nice to me- they're my friends," you reply defensively.

"Are you always this irritating?"

"Hey, you asked and I answered." Then you look down, the water already reaching around your knees. Your breath is shaky and you feel the freezing water all around you - so cold that it feels like it's burning you. "And according to Tony, yes I am."

"Tony," Bucky impatiently urges again. "If you don't find her in the next minute, I'm taking that artifact and I'm giving it back."

"Can you just be patient? I'm doing the best I can."

You're waist deep in water, watching as the man picks up your wallet from the same table that the camera is resting on. He flips it open and start rifling through it's contents.

"You carry a picture of the Winter Soldier, interesting," your kidnapper says holding the picture up to the camera. It's a picture of you and Bucky. The two of you are on the couch, both fast asleep, curled up into each other. What the cute little captured moment in time didn't show was that Sam had taken the picture, woken Bucky up with the shutter of the camera, and then proceeded to get chased by Bucky for taking said picture. "And one of your little friends."

"Yeah, you know for a bunch of superheroes it's really hard to get everyone still enough to take a picture."

"I got it," Tony announces. And as quickly as the words left Tony's mouth, Bucky's up out of his chair before anyone says anything else.

"Hold on, Bucky," Steve interrupts, blocking Bucky's exit. "We still need a plan. We can't just go in there gun's blazing."

"You want me to hold on?" He says gesturing to the screen, the water now reaching up to your waist.

"You heard the man, he gets a whiff of anything funny and he'll kill her. We have to be smart about this," Steve reconciles.

"Fine," Bucky snaps. "But we figure it out on the jet."

And it takes much too long for Bucky's liking before him and Steve are standing outside of the building you're apparently being held in. He's practically vibrating with desperate anticipation, all he needs is the cue from Tony.

"You're going to have 30 seconds to get her out," Tony says into Bucky's ear piece. "If he has a generator set up they usually take a minute before they kick in, and if he has a fail-safe set up..."

"I get it," Bucky curtly replies. "I'll go straight to her - Steve you get the control just in case I don't get her out in time."

"Don't worry, we'll get her out."

"You've got 30 seconds. Starting...now," Tony announces, all the power in the surrounding area suddenly out.

When Bucky runs in, he runs straight to the container. Your head is completely pointed up and you're on your tiptoes trying to keep your face above water. "Don't worry. I'm going to get you out of there."

Your eyes flicker down to see Bucky standing there, swearing he's going to get you out. Then you take one last gulp of air before you're completely submerged in the container. Bucky punches the glass, once, twice, three times and nothing.

"20 seconds, Barnes."

"Will you shut up?" Bucky snaps. He takes a deep breath and with all of his strength, he punches the glass as hard as he can. Finally seeing a large crack appear, he concentrates on the very center until water is pouring out all over the floor. He pays no attention to the water pouring out and drenching him, he grabs you and picks you up in his arms. Your lips are blue, you're shivering so hard that it seems more like shaking, and you're breathing is so uneven it frightens him to his very core. "I got you. Don't worry- I got you."

"I need a blanket," he calls, running you to the jet where Tony, Bruce, and Dr. Cho are waiting for you. "Jesus, you're freezing."

"Doll, can you keep your eyes open for me? Talk to me," he says, gently stirring you.

"I'm sorry- I got kidnapped," you chatter, barely able to breathe. Your eyes flutter shut as you take in the feeling of being in Bucky's warm arms, the knowledge that you're finally safe. At least, that's what it feels like to you. Like your just giving in to the darkness, letting it soothe you. Until Bucky shakes you awake again as he runs you up the ramp and up into the small room they've got waiting you you.

"FRIDAY, vitals," you hear Tony call.

"Blood pressure and pulse are dangerously low, body temperature is down to 85 degrees," FRIDAY announces.

"Put her down, Bucky. We've got her," Bruce says, but Bucky refuses desperately wanting to hold onto you.

"Bucky, you've got to let them work," Steve interjects, trying to pry you from Bucky's grasp. "She'll be fine, but you need to let her go."

Bucky nods and finally lets Steve lay you on the table. "I'm staying here," Bucky grunts.

"Just stay out of the way," Tony states, already completely focused on the task at hand. Bucky reluctantly takes a seat, never once taking his eyes off of you. He cranes his neck over Bruce and Tony trying to get any indication that you're going to be okay.

And he watches...

When they cut off your favorite yellow shirt.

When they hook you up to an IV with warmed saline.

As they cover you in heated blankets.

"She's crashing," Bruce calls. And only then does Bucky have to look away when they pull out the small crash cart and try to resuscitate you. Involuntary tears slip out of his eyes as he clutches his hair.

This can't be it, it can't be, he chants to himself.

Clear, they call the first time. Then the second. By the time he hears it the third time, he's sure he's lost you. And for the longest second of his life, he hears complete silence as they listen to the monitor you're hooked up to. Then they hear it, the sound of your heart still beating in your chest. And he's thanking God that just one time he gets to be the lucky person. That for once he doesn't have to lose.

He's next to you the entire time. Once you're stable in the hospital, he's tucked under the blanket with you. When the doctor tells him that skin to skin contact is best for warming, he does it without hesitation, though he doesn't actually take off any of your clothes. His forehead is dripping sweat with the amount of warmth surrounding the two of you and he still refuses to move an inch. Even when Sam makes fun of him for it.

And when you wake up in the hospital, the first thing you are aware of is the heat source right next to you. Without even opening your eyes, you find yourself cuddling further into it, making Bucky's heart flutter.

"Doll?" he whispers, feeling you beginning to stir.

"James," you croak, your tired eyes slowly opening.

"I'm here."

"Without a shirt on?" you quietly chuckle, feeling his bare skin against your arm.

"Sorry, they said skin to skin contact was best," he sheepishly replies, grabbing his shirt from the nightstand.

"I didn't say I had a problem with it," you mumble, stopping his movement. He sighs in relief against your head, putting his arm around you and pulling you even closer. "You're never going to let me go to the store alone ever again, are you?"

"Not a chance."

"Okay," you peacefully hum against his bare shoulder.

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nev3rfound · 3 years

Text

someone i once knew : b.b

bucky is left alone in the compound whilst the rest of the avengers are sent on a mission. yet, to bucky’s surprise he isn’t alone as he’s about to meet tony’s new assistant and someone from his past. (3.4k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

“You sure you’ll manage on your own?” Steve asks as he walks alongside Bucky.

Bucky quirks a brow at his oldest friend. “What, you don’t trust me?” He quips back, hearing Sam let out a dry laugh from the quinjet as he helps load the last of the supplies. “He doesn’t get an opinion.” Bucky adds, and Steve chuckles under his breath.

“I do trust you, Buck. But I just wanna make sure you’re okay being on your own here.” Steve explains, crossing his arms as Bucky buries his hands into his jacket pockets.

It was going to be Bucky’s first time being completely alone in the compound. Everyone else was required for a mission, and Bucky simply wasn’t needed this time. Initially, it stung a little- that Sam was going over him, but some downtime never hurt anyone, right?

“I’ll be alright, Steve.” Bucky states as Tony emerges from the elevator, huffing loudly as he looks at his phone.

“Oh, tin man? Do me a favour and don’t scare my new assistant,” Tony calls out, and Bucky looks to Steve who simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Since when did you hire an assistant?” Steve asks, and Tony stops beside them, locking his phone as he puts it into his pocket.

“Since I lost the last one,” Tony retorts.

“You married your old assistant, Tony.” Bucky comments and Tony simply rolls his eyes.

“Just, don’t scare her off, she has potential.” Tony remarks before carrying on toward the Quinjet, leaving Steve to bid farewell to Bucky.

Stepping back, Bucky rolls on his heels. “Guess I won’t be completely alone after all.” Bucky huffs. It is one thing to be alone in the compound with one of the other Avengers, but someone he hasn’t even met yet, that’s a level of confidence and comfortability he has yet to reach.

“Hey,” Steve pats Bucky’s shoulder. “you’ll be fine, just be your charming self.”

“I think he died back in the forties, pal.” Bucky mutters as he shrugs it off, it’s only for a few weeks at most.

“Just, don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve says softly as he steps back from Bucky, turning around toward the Quinjet.

Shuffling on the spot, Bucky watches as they leave. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky mumbles to himself as he walks back into the compound, wandering whereabouts his company for the next few weeks is hiding out.

It had been a quiet few days and Bucky had still yet to meet the newest addition to Starks team and started to wonder if Tony was messing with him for the fun of it.

At least, he thought as much until he was training in the gym when the faint sound of the piano caught his attention.

Pausing his work out, Bucky couldn’t stop his curiosity from getting the better of him as he exits the gym, hearing a familiar melody clearly coming from the shared living space in the compound.

As stealthily as possible, Bucky enters the open space and can make out a figure sat at the usually absent grand piano. Tony purchased it a year ago to fill the space, even though no one could play, it did work in making the compound look somewhat homely.

Stepping further into the room, Bucky knew the song, his Mother always played it on her radio and witnessed her and his Father dancing to it.

Humming the tune, you remain oblivious to the company creeping into the room as you remain concealed by the bonnet of the piano.

“Wake and dream medley?” Bucky speaks up, and you jump in your seat, hitting the keys of the piano causing an awful blunt sound to echo in the open space. “Sorry,” Bucky adds, now retreating into himself as you remain hidden. “I, I could hear you from the gym, I love, loved that song.”

“No need to apologise,” You chuckle, and Bucky tenses upon hearing your voice.

It sounds so familiar, too familiar for his liking.

Rising to your feet, you rub your hands together before closing the bonnet of the piano, now in full view to Bucky who can feel his whole body shutting down.

Bucky steps back in disbelief, clinging onto the sofa behind him with all his might as you hesitantly step forward. “I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner, Mr Stark had me doing a fair bit of paperwork so I’ve been holed up in my suite for the past few days.” You explain, but Bucky can’t seem to meet your gaze. “I’m Y/n,”

You extend your arm, holding your hand out to Bucky who stares in disbelief.

“Is this some kinda cruel joke?” Bucky questions, slowly looking up at your confused expression. “Y/n, is it really you?” He stares at you, but your confusion only deepens as you lower your arm back to your side.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but Bucky continues to eye you with evident shock. “Have we met before?”

A dry laugh leaves Bucky’s lips as he straightens himself up. “Do you not know me?” His voice is breaking as you shake your head, and Bucky can feel the moment of relief in his heartbreak once again.

“I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken with someone else?” You nervously laugh, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Bucky simply nods and straightens himself up. “I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes. And I do apologise for that, you just remind me of an old friend.” Bucky brushes it off, knowing it’s not possible, it just can’t be.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Bucky,” You tell him with a smile, one that Bucky once knew and loved, but he forces himself to remove that thought, it isn’t her. “the song I, I guess it was from your time?” You ask, moving back over to the piano and opening the bonnet.

“Yeah,” Bucky walks over, leaning against it as you take a seat, resuming the melody as if you had never paused. “I remember it growing up. How come you know it?”

Your fingers glide over the keys effortlessly and your eyes close for a moment. Whilst they’re closed, Bucky takes the chance to look at you properly, noting your distinct features, identical to the girl he once knew.

“I’m not sure,” You admit, lifting your fingers from the keys as you glance up at Bucky. “I, I just do.” Your brows furrow together, and Bucky notes how you look back at the piano.

“Well, it’s a nice song, so thank you for playing it.” Bucky speaks up. “I’ll be around, so I’ll be seeing you.” He mutters before exiting the room and rushes back to the gym, barely hearing you saying goodbye.

Once Bucky is gone, you look back at the piano. There’s no sheet music, but you knew the song, you knew the exact keys to play and the words as you hummed along.

There was something about Bucky, something amicable and undeniably so. You could feel it in the back of your mind, a nagging sensation to remember, remember something, anything. Yet, as always nothing follows through.

You and Bucky had been living in the compound for an entire week, and you had only come across him three times in total. The first at the piano, the second was after an attempted run; Bucky watched as you reentered the compound soaking from head to toe after being caught in a rainstorm. You tried to make a joke, but Bucky merely grumbled and walked off in the opposite direction. And the third well, that was this morning.

The smell of burnt toast woke you up, and you rushed from your suite to the shared floor where the kitchen is located.

“Stupid toaster,” Bucky groans under his breath as he throws the toast into the bin, slamming the lid shut with his metal hand, nearly leaving an indent.

“You alright there?” Your voice is so soft, and Bucky can feel the tension between his shoulders ease.

Lifting his metal arm up, Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just got distracted.” He shrugs as he turns around to look at you in your pyjamas, just a t-shirt and joggers. A lot more casual than the girl he remembers in the forties.

“Happens to the best of us,” You joke, moving past him to grab a mug. “want one?” You hold a second mug up, and Bucky nods.

He remains quiet as you pour him a cup and slide it across the counter to him. “Look alive!” You call out, and he grasps it firmly.

Silence falls between you both as you look over your shoulder to see Bucky holding the mug in his metal fingers, a distant gaze over his eyes. “Real smooth, Y/n.” Bucky eventually speaks up, followed by a short laugh as he raises the mug to his lips.

“I’ve never done that before,” You admit, now leaning against the counter.

Laughter fills the bar as soldiers pass through with open arms and cheers for a new day. “Hey, look alive!” You yell as you slide across a bottle of beer to the brunette soldier.

“Thanks, Y/n.” His bright blue eyes focus on yours as he winks before patting his blond friend on the shoulder and walks closer toward you, yet the closer he gets, the more blurred he becomes. “Y-”

“Y/n?” Bucky calls out, snapping you from your thoughts. “You in there?”

“Sorry,” You look up from your mug, forcing a small smile. “got a bit lost in my head for a moment.” You mutter. “I, I’m going to go get ready.” You sip at your coffee and head out from the kitchen, leaving Bucky perplexed as he hears you running and swearing from in the hallway towards the elevator.

So, your encounters with Bucky haven’t exactly been the best. Yet, there’s something about him that you’re drawn to but scared of. His cool exterior doesn’t intimidate you, you know his history, you know all of the Avengers’ history. However there is a part of you that feels like you know Bucky somehow on a deeper level than what you've read in his files.

Rushing through your suite, you gather the necessary files before heading out to the elevator. You knew you shouldn’t have left it to the last minute to get the meeting scheduled.

As the metal doors open, Bucky steps aside, his blue eyes focused on his feet. “Which floor?” He asks.

“Two, please.” You respond, and silence ensues over you both.

It was becoming harder and harder for Bucky to not see the Y/n he once knew in you, this version of her or a copy. You twitched your nose the same way when you laughed, your hair smells like vanilla and you add small quirks to the same words.

“Y/n, do you ever have the feeling that you’ve met someone, in a previous life?” Bucky asks out of the blue, taking you by surprise.

“I, er,” You stumble over your words as you reach level two. “I’ll get back to you on that one, Bucky.” You tell him before exiting the elevator and carry on rushing to the conference room for your meeting with Pepper.

“Thought as such.” Bucky sighs as the doors close, leaving him alone with his memories of you once more.

“What’re you doing up here? You’ll freeze!” You laugh giddily as you wrap your arms around yourself, seeing Bucky sat with a blanket draped over his shoulders despite the early spring chill.

“I’ve endured worse, doll.” It rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, his treasured nickname for his girl.

Yet, you smile at the nickname, swearing you’ve heard it before. You contemplate a response, but leave it and walk closer, sitting beside Bucky.

“So, what are you doing up here? Am I that bad?” You nudge him playfully and without a second thought, Bucky lifts the blanket up, allowing you to curl into the soft fabric for much-needed warmth.

“You never could be, Y/n, trust me.” Bucky sighs sadly as he looks up to the stars, aware of you studying him closely, your eyes burning into each of his features. “I’m sorry if I’ve acted a little off this past week, I, I’m still adjusting to well, everything.” Bucky tries to ease his growing nerves as you scoot closer, the fragrance of your perfume encroaching into his nostrils like old times.

“You’ve been just fine, Bucky.” You reassure him as a faint smile forms on his lips.

“I’d know if you’re lyin’ to me, doll.” Bucky turns to face you, kneeling down as you cross your arms playfully, refusing to speak up. “Well, I guess you leave me no choice.” He mutters, and before you can react his hands grab your hips and he starts tickling you senselessly.

“Calm down, soldier!” You laugh happily. “Will you stop?!” You breathe out as his hands rise further up from your waist, pausing as he holds your face, smiling smugly to you, knowing you were truly hooked.

“So, I was just fine then, doll?” Bucky raises a brow as you nod, his hands bringing you closer as he breathes out a sigh into your lips. “Well, I guess I’ve got a few things to work on.”

“That you do mister.” You mutter before kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck as hollers from across the road sound, and the faint call of your name interrupts you once more.

“Y/n?” Bucky nudges you, and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you okay? You went all quiet on me for a minute.” He half laughs, seeing tears forming in your eyes as you shake your head.

“I, I’m not.” You admit, letting the tears fall. “I, you asked me earlier about feeling as if you’ve met someone in another life,” You trail off, seeing Bucky nod.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, feeling the remaining strings attached to his heart hoist it up, hoping they won’t fray at this final attempt. “it was dumb, I know.” He brushes it off.

“No, it’s not.” You tell him defiantly. “I, I keep having these memories of sorts, but I can’t make out any faces.” You rub your eyes. “Every day there’s this nagging sensation to remember something, to recognise someone I believe I knew, like there's this guy and I think he's someone I’m meant to know.” You explain, and Bucky can feel the restraints in his heart tightening, the cogs in your brain now turning.

“I know the feeling,” Bucky comments. “when HYDRA had me, they wiped my mind of everything, any memories of my life before and brainwashed me into their weapon. It’s kinda funny really, it was all still in there, and it slowly started to come back.”

“How did you know which memories were real?” Your voice softens as you home in on his blue eyes, watching as they twitch under your gaze. “Like, which weren’t misconstrued.”

Bucky shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, I just, I do.” He murmurs. “So, this guy, what’s he like?” Bucky changes the subject as a smile forms on his lips as you laugh lightly.

“I wish I knew,” A light shiver crosses your body, and Bucky pulls the blanket off of him, wrapping it around you. “he’s just, this amazing guy who, who is funny, and caring. I have these snippets of what I believe was our life together, but it doesn’t make any sense.” You ramble, trying your best to comprehend everything.

“Take your time.” Bucky reassures you.

“These ‘memories’ I’m having, they take place in the past- that much I know. But I know my life, I know the year I was born, I have memories of my childhood and I know my family.” You explain, feeling your eyes welling up with tears as your frustration and confusion increases. “How can I have memories of a life I’ve never lived?”

"Maybe you can." Whistling into the breeze, Bucky shuffles and turns to face you. “Try and focus on one detail, okay? Do you trust me?”

You search his eyes for any uncertainty, and you nod in response.

“Close your eyes.” Bucky whispers, and you oblige. “Think of him, think about any details that you have relived, any conversations or scenery you noticed.” Bucky suggests, trying his hardest to not reach out and take your hand in his.

Keeping your eyes closed, you try to focus on his face, hear his voice, but it’s all too much of a blur. “It’s no use.” You sigh, burying your face in your hands. “I just, I know if I ever saw him again or met him somehow, I’d know who he was.” You mumble into your palms, unaware of Bucky tearing his eyes from you, the ropes pulling his heart snapping for good, now beyond repair.

“You’ll find him, Y/n.” Bucky pats your back, hearing you sniffle.

“You think?” You ask, lifting your head back up as you half-smile to Bucky who nods.

“I’m sure of it.” He forces a smile, but you can tell it’s not reaching his eyes.

“Thanks, Bucky." Silence falls between you both, stifling the cool air. "I, I better go in before I catch a cold.” You rise to your feet, removing the blanket and hand it back to him. “Can’t have Mr Stark complaining about me coughing senselessly on a conference call.” A light laugh escapes your lips as you wave to Bucky before heading back inside.

As the door closes behind you, Bucky blankly stares out at the sky. “Oh, doll.” Bucky pleads to the stars. “Please remember.”

Now back on your floor, tears freely cascade down your cheeks as you sob into your hand, barely able to reach your door before you fall to the ground. “Come on,” You cry, feeling snippets of memories colliding together of the childhood you knew versus one you don’t recall, two boys by your side at all times.

Forcing yourself to your feet, you shut the door to your suite behind you, hearing laughter echo in your mind.

“Steve! Stop, I need to keep my dress clean!” You plead, looking down at the splashes of mud coating the hem of your dress.

“I warned you, punk.” Bucky sighs, hitting Steve over the back of the head with the newspaper. “You still look beautiful, Y/n.” Bucky winks to you, watching as you roll your eyes in response.

“Thanks, James.” You mutter, ignoring the burning of your cheeks as you reach your front steps. “I’ll see you boys later, seven still good?” You ask, looking between the pair as they nod. “Okay, well, don’t get in too much trouble without me.” You chuckle before turning on your heels and head up the front steps, unlocking your front door as the radio plays faintly.

“James?” You whisper to yourself, rushing over to the nearest mirror. “My name is Y/n Y/l/n. I am twenty-four years old. This is my home. My parents are Y/M/N and Y/D/N.” You recite, staring at yourself in the mirror. “This is who you are.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you step away from your mirror and fall into your bed.

“Ms Y/l/n?” FRIDAY calls out, and you quickly sit upright.

“Yes, FRIDAY?”

“Tony is calling you, would you like to answer?” The AI asks, and you groan into your pillow, it’s not like you couldn’t answer your employer.

“Sure, FRIDAY.” You reply, reaching over for your phone and answer the call from Tony. “Hey Mr Stark, how’s the mission going?” You feign positivity as you force a bright smile. Even if Tony cannot see you, the walls have eyes.

“Hey, Y/n, I told you before, call me Tony. We’re on our way back now, I just wanted to make sure the tin man hasn’t been causing you any trouble.” Tony asks, moving away from other voices in the background.

Your eyes rise to your closed door, picturing Bucky mere minutes ago by your side, trying to help you remember him, James Buchanan Barnes, your James.

“Jam-” You cut yourself off and move the phone away from your ear, allowing a moment to compose yourself for your boss. “Bucky’s been fine, I promise Mr, sorry, Tony.” You chuckle uneasily, but Tony doesn’t question it.

“Well good to hear, listen we’ll be back in an hour, and you can meet the rest of the team in the morning. Get some rest, Y/n.” Tony tells you and hangs up before you can respond, leaving you alone once more with the impending thoughts weighing heavy in your mind.

“This is who you are.” You repeat like a mantra as you lie back down in your bed, wishing tomorrow would never come.

P A R T T W O

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