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espinosaurusrexex · 2 years

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Like Bonnie and Clyde

summary: Bonnie and Clyde got nothing on them. Sure, they do the same thing: rob people, maybe kill some on the way and get justice for those who actually need it. But their love for each other seems to make up for all the cruelties. And that’s what’s important, right? Taking time to seek out each other and make sure you’re okay... even if there is a little teasing involved.

a/n: this is plotless smut and I’m not sorry

word count: 2.7k

warnings: a little fluff, swearing, smut !MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

It wasn’t hard getting into his pants under the table. What was hard, however, was the thing that hid beneath them. Y/N smiled as her fingers grazed over the aching bulge in Bucky’s pants, a sudden cough ripped from his throat in an attempt to cover up the gasp at the contact of her cold hand with his hot crotch.

“Please tell me, how did you guys meet?” Tanja asked with her head resting on her hands, her eyes solely focused on the couple in front of her. She was already a couple of glasses in, which made it just that much easier to... multitask.

“Would you like to do the honors, babe?” Y/N looked up to Bucky, who had his eyes fixed on the ugly portrait on the wall behind Tanja. A pained smile sneaked on his features as he muttered an ‘Oh, please. You do it so well.’ through his teeth.

She nodded in response, the hand beneath the table squeezing him through his boxers in reassurance. This was a risky game, Bucky knew that, and Y/N knew it too. But, simultaneously, it was the very thing that made it so intriguing. Tanja didn’t have a clue, her eyes drowned in the haze the dry red had washed over her, totally lost in the made-up story Y/N scrambled together along the way. Her hand slipped past the elastic waistband of his boxers after a minute of talking absolute bullshit to the woman in front of them and when her fingers brushed over the swollen tip of his cock, Bucky had to grab the table.

“Everything okay?” She asked innocently, her gaze seeping through her lashes from beside him, sparkling in the yellow hues of the restaurant lights. But Bucky couldn’t focus on that right now. His entire energy went into keeping his composure while his dirtiest fantasies came true beneath the table.

“Yes.” That was all he was able to say as the pleasure crept up his veins, making his head all woozy and light. Y/N didn’t let up. Her hand pumped up and down his shaft as her thumb swiped over his slit every so often, creating a magical feeling in his pants. Her grip was just perfect on his pulsing dick and when she finished her story, she leaned over and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

“How are you holding up soldier?” She muttered so low he barely heard it. Her thumb brushed over him again, making his knee jolt up. The table rattled and Tanja’s glass tipped over.

“Oh my, everything okay, Bucky?” Bucky’s hand snapped under the table, stilling her wrist. He was dirty but he wasn’t that dirty. Bucky didn’t want to bust beneath the table. There were so many better places for that.

“No, I think something bit me.” He grumbled as he threw her hand back in Y/N’s lap and adjusted himself in his pants again. A quick glance at the clock next to the portrait. “You know what Tanja, it’s getting late, too. We should probably head home.” He stood up abruptly, got behind the chair to hide his strained pants, and scrambled a few bills from his pockets that he threw on the table. “It was so nice to meet you.” And then he pulled Y/N out of the restaurant with knitted brows.

❁ ❁ ❁

The wet concrete beneath their feet echoed with the hasty steps Bucky dragged Y/N in.

“What's going on?” She smirked. Her heels clicked in the puddles on the street. Y/N knew the answer. It was what she had anticipated ever since she had seen him in that black button-up hours ago. Her panties had been drenched since then, and she figured it was only fair to give Bucky a taste of his own medicine.

Bucky just huffed as his reflection sped through the store windows on the sidewalk. Across the street and barely missing the taxi that was honking ferociously at the pair now. If Y/N knew one thing, it was that Bucky was not a patient man. He was eager to get home and finished what she started, which was, without a doubt, what she had intended in the first place. But she still giggled as she watched her plan unfold in perfect execution.

Bucky wasn’t angry, Y/N knew that too. Tanja was a nobody. A small screw in the complex machine they had been trying to take down. And the dinner with her served much more as a distraction from all the hustle rather than an actual intel source.

Bucky’s grip was firm around her hand, his gloved fingers wrapping around it gently though. He wouldn’t let her go. He’d hold her until the motel room door was closed behind them and they finally had the air around them to themselves. Because even though Bucky didn’t look like it, he was a private lover. A damn cocky one, but privy nonetheless.

The keys rattled in his jacket pocket before he pushed them through the golden keyhole, a hidden smile pulling on his lips before he finally opened it. Y/N shut it after he had pulled her over the threshold. He let go for a second to remove his cloves and then his fingers were back on her again.

“Babe-” Y/N started but Bucky pushed her against the door. His vibranium arm pressed her wrists above her head, his voice was so low that the tremor send shivers down her spine.

“What were you trying back there, doll?” The deep blue of his eyes vanished behind the lust flashing over his pupils.

“Hmmm...” Y/N bit her lip as she pretended to think about her answer. When her gaze met his again she whispered seductively: “I’d call it revenge.”

Bucky traced her lips with his thumb, the soft flesh hot on his skin. As he mumbled an answer back. “You know it’s not my fault you get turned on so easily.” Bucky’s voice was calm, his posture relaxed and if Y/N weren’t so concentrated on his front pressing into hers, she’d caught the look of adoration laced in his features.

She knew it was there, it always was. Beneath the harsh stare and the furrowed brows. But she didn’t need that now. Y/n wanted the cocky, teasing, dominant Bucky. “Oh, it must be hard being so sexy that every woman melts at the sight of you.” She mocked with a daring smile on her face.

“So you agree?” He pestered back. Bucky knew this game all too well. That didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it still. It was fun - exciting. One of his favorite things to do with her, actually. A bonus on top of the badass, man-killing, justice-seeking girlfriend he already had in her.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Let’s see then, shall we?” Bucky licked his lips. His hand wandered between her legs, bunching up her dress with ease as his warm fingers grazed the soft flesh of her thighs.

His brows raised as the grin on his face grew. “Sweetheart, your pussy tells me something different.” His breath was hot on her lips. “And she doesn’t lie.”

Those words sent a shiver down her spine that settled in her stomach, his lips grazing hers with every word. “I guess you caught me,” Y/N whimpered when she felt his index finger pressing to her clit.

“Seems so.” He smirked. “What are we gonna do about that?”

A short silence filled the room as the pressure on her clit reached the point of aching. Hot breath fanning over dampened skin but Bucky didn’t move. He was waiting, his heartbeat slightly faster than normal when Y/N’s eyes met his again.

“You decide,” she breathed out. Bucky didn’t need to hear that twice. Within an instant he had her face pressed to the door, his hands working on her dress to finally free her ass and kneading the flesh once he finally did. Y/N huffed against the deep green paint of the door when his right landed on her ass cheek. This was what she had wanted, though the excitement in her chest made it feel like a surprise nonetheless.

Bucky kissed up her spine until his lips lingered right beneath her ear. “You could have just asked, you know?” He said as his hands cupped her breasts, his hard-on pressing to her ass and telling her just how excited he was. Another kiss was placed on her shoulder. “But you chose to embarrass me.” And another to her neck. “That’s kinda naughty.”

Her hips pushed back to his crotch, earning a grunt from the brunette and a tight squeeze of her tits. She couldn't help herself, she had to provoke him. It was a bad habit, but one that earned her a few orgasms every time she pursued it.

“Doll...”

“Tell me you don’t want this.” Oh, he wanted this. It was hot. But Bucky had planned on punishing her, and not the other way around. Still, there was something other than his brain doing the thinking right now.

“You know that would be a lie.” His face buried in the crook of her neck as he enjoyed the way her behind massaged his dick.

Just a second, he told himself before reclaiming control. And as he twitched in his pants, he decided it was enough. Bucky turned Y/N back around, watching as her chest rose in deep breaths and her eyes studied his movement with an innocent stare. Then he pulled her into his chest, crashing his lips to hers with hunger. The kiss was all tongue and teeth and hot, hot breath. The taste of red wine still lingered on her lips when his tongue traced the bottom before he walked backward and pulled her with him.

He reached down again, pulling the dress up and over her head. A husky ‘fuck’ left his lips at the sight of her breasts. He had seen them a hundred times before but that didn’t change the fact that they turned him on every time anew. He pushed her back on the bed and crawled next to her right after. Y/N’s entire body shook with the excitement of what was to come. There weren’t a lot of things the pair hadn’t tried and, quite frankly, she didn’t need anything new. She just needed him - right now.

Bucky’s lips found hers again as his vibranium hand traveled down her body, halting at her belly button to pull away for a split second. He admired her. No, really. He absolutely adored her precious face and he made sure to take his time doing it any chance he got. And while the frustration in Y/N began to boil, a slight spark within her body told her to wait - to let him do it.

He shook out of his trance when Y/N lifted her hips impatiently. And while the smirk began to sneak back onto his face, he waited for another second, just to see her close her eyes in a needy manner. Then his hand disappeared beneath the dark fabric covering her heat and Y/n moaned when the cold metal touched her where she needed it most. His fingers slit through her slick folds before coming back up to trace eights over her clit. Y/n jolted at the sudden pressure, her jaw hanging slack as the touch sent shivers to her head. Bucky kissed them away, his lips pillowy and warm against her prickled skin.

“Bucky!” She panted. Her arm snuck beneath his head to pull him closer to her face as his hand continued the assault on her pussy. Her breaths became staggered when she felt the familiar tension build up in her stomach, the edges of an orgasm tingling in her legs before Bucky retracted his hand - the pressure instantly lost and all that was left was the pulsing heartbeat in her core.

“Naughty girls don’t get to finish.” He placed another kiss on her throat. Bucky loved the scene unfolding before him. Y/N’s eyes sent daggers to his. But she couldn’t do anything about it. She was entirely at his mercy, willingly so.

Y/N squirmed uncomfortably. “Please,” she whined, still mourning the loss of pressure in her abdomen, which just sent another grin on Bucky’s face.

“Please what?” His eyebrows raised, fingertips aching to feel her skin again.

“Please touch me.” His cock twitched at the sight of her round eyes glazed over with the need for contact. But he wasn’t finished with the torture just yet. His hand hovered above her belly, the other slightly grazing her hair, ready to grip it tightly.

“Just please?” He moved back a little, feigning disappointment, but before he could go any further, Y/N raised her hand and placed it on his collar in a desperate attempt to pull him back in.

“Ok, ok! I’m sorry!” She knew he wouldn’t go and leave her hot and bothered like that. And even though she was sure that he would not be that cruel, she gave into the little game they had started this evening. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky nodded approvingly. His mouth reattached to her skin, tracing down to her breasts and swirling her erect nipples with his tongue. Y/N’s hand reached down to her pussy, desperately attempting to release some of the pressure forming again, but Bucky was faster than her.

“Nu-uh.” He grabbed her wrist and placed it above her head. “I’m not finished.”

A silent whimper was all he got as an answer before his hand replaced hers on the way down. This time he instantly pushed into her with two fingers, pumping in and out in painfully slow motions. Y/N’s bodily response was all he needed to confirm his skills as her back arched. His thumb found its way to her clit and skillfully rubbed circles with the motions his other two fingers dragged against her walls.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Oh, God!” Her body felt like being on fire, the cold vibranium on her skin doing little to cool her down as the heat washed up and down her body.

“Just Bucky is fine,” he smiled against her nipple when the hand on his head pulled on his hair. He curled his fingers upwards to reach that spot.

“Shut- Fuck, YES!” The muscles in her abdomen squeezed his fingers as the pressure became almost too unbearable to uphold. But then he stopped again, feeling her walls relieve the pressure from his fingers once again.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, keep going, please!” Bucky chuckled as she pressed his face into her tits, his hand picking up the motions from a second ago and the walls of her pussy began to flutter again. She was close now, squirming and shaking as his fingers went seemingly deeper and deeper with every thrust, the pressure on her clit in perfect tandem with every touch he received. She gripped him tightly, her body becoming rigid, but Y/N would wait until he told her to let go, though that seemed damn near impossible now.

Bucky kissed her cheek. “Learned your lesson now?”

“Yes, God yes!” The grip on his hair tightened, the knot in her stomach about to bust.

He nodded again, his nose nudging hers in the process. “You can come now.”

His thumb went on with the circular motions and as the pleasure exploded in her body, Y/N let out a high-pitched scream containing a somewhat resemblance to Bucky’s name. He rode her through her orgasm as he watched her face unfold in pleasure, his own body tingling at the sight.

When she opened her eyes again, glazed over by haze and mind seemingly lost in the feelings shooting through her veins, he kissed her again. Gentle and soft this time. His hand came up to cup her face. They looked in each other's eyes for a minute until she softly whispered against his skin.

“I love you, you know?” Y/N’s hand swiped a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, her thumb lingered on his cheek for a moment longer.

“And you’re not just saying that because I can make you cum?”

“Hmm, this theory might require testing.”

Bucky smiled. “Seems so.” He kissed her once again.

“Just in case that wasn’t clear.” His hand stroked her bare shoulder. “I love you, too.” His lips wandered down her torso, his hands working on removing her panties.

“Oh, it’s clear.” She chuckled as her hands buried in his hair, pulling his head so he could look at her. Bucky placed another kiss on her belly, smiling on her skin.

“Good.”

Wanna be added to the taglist?

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sunflowersoldat · 2 years

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Man Out Of Time Master List

Summary: This mostly takes place during Infinity War and Endgame. You had always had feelings for Steve Rogers, but never acted on them, always too afraid of the what if aspect. But what happens when a super soldier and friend seeks comfort in your arms while being on the run? What kind of relationship could you have with a self sacrificing man such as Steve? You must be someone he cares about enough to give up the superhero gig. right?

Main Master List

Steve Rogers Master List

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Please Don't Go (drabble) Clockwork (drabble) Make It Back To Me (drabble) Part 4 Enough Playing Cowgirl (drabble) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

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chaotictasha · 2 years

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Incorrect quotes#92

y/n: what am I supposed to do?.. Apologise?

Steve: that's EXACTLY what i want YOU to DO.

y/n: over my RICH..HOT DEAD BODY...

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textsfromtheavengers · 1 year

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sgrdoll · 2 years

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Tranquility - Prologue

Synopsys - Innocent looking girl not so innocent. Mafia!Steve Rogers finds good use for her and her special talents.

Warnings - abuse, murder, knives, mentions of drugs, spitting, biting, character death

Charlie’s first memory in this world was at age five. She was tiny, especially then, and the bigger girls on the playground made fun of her because of the street she lived on.

“God, Kane Street is such a shithole,” the sixth graders would taunt her.

It was true too. It was a shithole. There was garbage littered everywhere and addicts randomly lying on the street corners. It still killed Charlie to hear them say that though, her mother worked so hard on their home only for the very place it sat to be demeaned. Images of her mom cleaning the house tirelessly to the tune of 60’s music filled her little kindergarten brain.

That was Charlie’s first act of violence. She looked up at all of those big girls and she spit right in their faces, just as she had saw her father do to her mother. All of the girls jumped back in disgust, and when they did Charlie jumped at the opportunity to bite down on one of the wrists that dangled in front of her. Charlie bit as hard as she possibly could until she felt the sweet taste of blood. The girl whose wrist occupied her mouth shrieked loudly and ripped her arm out of Charlie’s vice grip.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She screamed at Charlie.

Charlie stayed silent, she didn’t intend to talk to any of those girls. They didn’t deserve it, silence was another one of those tricks her father taught her. She just gave them a sweet smile and turned to go play on the monkey bars with her long blonde pigtails swinging behind her.

After that, Charlie’s acts of violence increased to a level beyond the control of the people around her. She would slap and bite and scream. She never seemed to punch, but things came to a crescendo when she learned to use knives.

Her father was the first person she ever killed. She was 19 years old. Her mother was already long gone, leaving her with her abusive father. Charlie stabbed him. She didn’t even feel bad, he deserved it after all. He hurt her, and her mother. Charlie knew what she did wasn’t exactly morally sound, but he thrill of it all kept her safe from any remorse that might creep into her chest.

That’s how Steve found her. Charlie’s asshole dad owed him money for drugs that he stole from one of Steve’s clubs. Steve had already had several run-ins with the man that was currently dead in the floor. Frankly, it was a relief that Steve didn’t have to do any of the dirty work. His eyes moved over to the tiny girl on the floor across from the dead man. She was sat with her legs out in front of her and blood all over the oversized blue shirt she wore. A kitchen knife was in her hands. She looked up at Steve with big blue eyes and tilted her head, “Who are you?”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #mean reader #mafia #mafia!steve x reader #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers x reader #size kink #mafia au #cacw #bucky barnes #bucky #found family #prologue

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wanderingmirror · 2 years

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Steven Rogers, James Barnes, and Sam Wilson sat in front of the man all in guilty silence.

He sat in front of them with hatred and rage.

"You killed my wife. You killed my son. You killed my daughter. You almost killed me. If Mr. Stark had not found me buried under a shit ton of debris I would be dead right now. But I'm just a number. A casualty. A blank face."

With each sentence this man got louder and more violent. Barnes flinched. Rogers stared at the floor. And Wilson just held in his sobs.

"I'll never get to see my kids graduate from highschool. I'll never get to see my baby girl get married. I'll never have grand kids. I'll never get to grow old with my WIFE!! Because you all think you're some perfect person who does no wrong! Who thinks it's okay that you lived and everyone else dies!"

The man's rant was cut short thanks to a violent coughing fit. Tony gently helped him through it. Tony had promised the man that he would get his justice. That his family would get justice. The man, James Morgan, only wanted one thing.

"I want to know what was so important about this murdering son of a bitch that you costed my family their lives! I want to know just why you thought you could justify killing them! Why?! What's so special about this bastard that my kids had to die?! To never grow up?!"

James coughed again. He also sobbed. He had no legs. They had been crushed by a piece of the overpass from the knee down. He was too scared to go under bridges, too traumatized. He had to quit his job as a nurse because he couldn't stand the sight of blood anymore.

"I still see my Emily's bloody face. Her eyes full of blood and tears staining her cheeks. I still see my baby girls impaled body leaned against the back of her mother's seat. I can't stand to think about my boy. Do you know what it's like to be stuck physically and hear your child scream for you? Do you? My little boy, screaming his tiny lungs out because his arm was pinned by glass and his stomach was filling with blood."

Barnes flinched and shook. Wilson was doing his best to keep from vomiting. And Rogers just stared more. James looked at the man he once admired, who his son idolized. And felt nothing but hatred.

"You talk about how 'the safest hands are your own'. When the safest hands kill the people you're supposed to protect, who protects those people from you?"

James felt the emotions drain away from him. He got to say what he wanted. And Tony had already promised that these three would never hurt anyone else like they had his wife and children. He wasn't expecting these murderers to admit their guilt. They never had in the past. He looked at Tony and nodded.

"I have nothing else to say."

He said softly and the other brunette nodded in understanding. James Morgan, now a widower, was wheeled out of the room in silence. His sobs heard the entire way by those he passed.

______

Wanda Maximoff was led into a room with two children. Twins she had been told.

Orphans.

The boy, rendered mute thanks to too much dust getting into his throat. And a girl, losing her left arm after it was burnt too badly to fix.

When the boy saw her, his eyes widened and he grabbed his sister and pushed her behind him. Moving them both to a further corner away from the red head. Maximoff tried to get closer but the little girl wailed.

"MOMMY! DADDY! Help! Someone help!"

She wailed. The boy, despite his brave front, was shaking like a leaf. The girl wailed and begged for help. When Pepper entered the room the little girl waddled over to her and begged to be picked up. Her face red with tears running down her face.

"I want my mommy!"

Her tiny lungs heaved with the force of her cries. The boy ran over and hid behind the other red head's legs. Tears of his own streaming down his face silently. Maximoff watched all of this.

"Did Stark do this?"

She only got an even louder wail as her answer. Then, two other adults entered the room. Pepper gently coaxed the wailing girl to the female. But the boy was harder to move. Whenever Maximoff would try to help, he only clung to Pepper tighter.

"Get away from Brandon! No! Stay away from my brother!"

Maximoff was stunned. The girl was trying to get down to protect her brother. From her.

The boy, Brandon, took her distraction as a chance to dart to the man behind the other woman. Hiding behind his legs and gripping his pant leg tightly. Pepper looked at Logan and Jean and the two X-Men led the children out of the room.

"The one who orphaned them was you, Miss Maximoff. The one who disabled them was you. The one who traumatized them was you. The one who found them was Tony. The one who had to keep them from looking behind them, to keep them from further trauma at the sight of their parents, was Tony."

Pepper said this with a monotone voice. She kept eye contact with Maximoff and watched as the fight left the other woman.

"You sent their home into the building next to it. It crushed their father to death. You caused both to catch fire. It burned their mother alive. They survived because Tony had heard Brandon screaming for his sister's life. She was unconscious and bleeding. Brandon will never speak again because that fire blew smoke and dust into his lungs and throat. And Maria, the little girl, won't let those two they left with out of her sight."

Pepper looked deep into the other's eyes.

"Because the red lady took her parents away."

Maximoff sobbed softly to herself. Pepper left her there without another word. When she opened the door, Maximoff was left to listen to the heartbreaking wails of little Maria.

_______

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff were sitting in a room silently. They had been told that they had someone that want to talk to them. When the door was opened, a woman was led into it. A teenager walked with her. Her hands were shaking violently. James Rhodes walked in with them, holding a Baby Carrier with him.

"Barton and Romanoff, this is Agatha Lopez. She is the Widow of Agent Markus Lopez. And this is his eldest son Jackson, and his youngest son Ethan."

James introduced the three. Both the spies where confused as to why this lady needed to talk to them. Did she need their help?

"What can we do for you Mrs. Lopez?"

Barton asked. The widow was still shaking too badly. So Jackson Lopez spoke.

"You worked for Shield right?"

His question was answered by twin nods. And both had to jump back when Jackson punched Barton in the face and almost hit Romanoff too. Vision entered the room and gently but firmly held him back.

"You Fucking Bastards! You killed my Dad! You Killed him! He promised to come home and you killed him! I hate you!"

Jackson got so loud and violent, it woke Ethan up. The baby wailed and it seemed to snap Jackson out of his tirade. The older boy stiffened and darted to James' other side to gently pick his brother up and rest him in his arms. Agatha was silent the whole time.

"Mrs. Lopez you need to keep your son under control."

Barton said and that got him a nasty glare from the teenager.

"Shut the fuck up. You have no right to order my Mom around after the hell she's been through. She just got out of the fucking Hospital thanks to your little info dump."

Jackson sat down and rocked his baby brother back to sleep. Vision rested a gently hand on his shoulder and it seemed to soothe the boy. The two agents were stunned. This was a victim of the info dump? They could see it now. Scars lined her neck and wrists. She was refusing to look around but her eyes laid on her two sons.

"I'm sorry, Jackie."

Was her near silent whisper. Jackson shook his head.

"Mom you don't need to apologize. It's okay. Doctors said you need rest anyway."

Jackson moved and slowly hugged his mother, careful of his little brother. Agatha carefully took her youngest and rocked him gently. Jackson turned to them again.

"You owe my family more than just a fucking apology. You made my mother a widow. And now Ethan will never get to know his dad. You almost made me and my brother orphans if Mr. Stark and Mr. Rhodes hadn't gotten there when they did."

The boy had rage in his eyes. The only thing stopping him from jumping the table was his mother. She couldn't handle the loud bang of a table being knocked over.

"Thanks to you, my mom may never handle loud noises the same without thinking it's a fucking gun shot. Cause she had to watch as my dad was shot right in front of her after he refused to snitch on your asses."

Jackson felt the anger fill him again and was thankful Mr. Vision had not let go of his shoulder. He probably would have tried to give the blonde bitch a matching black eye to the other.

"You're paying for my mom's medical bill. You're paying for my dad's funeral. And this time, Tony is not allowed to help you. He's already helped enough. Saved me and my baby brother from becoming Hydra soldiers."

Jackson stood up slowly, gently taking his mother's fragile arm and getting her to stand. He took Ethan and placed him in his Carrier. He nodded to Mr. Rhodes and guided his mother out. The Colonel followed behind him with Vision not far behind. Leaving the two Shield agents to sit in shock and horror at what could have happened if Tony hadn't been fast enough.

______

Tony gently hugged Mrs. Lopez. He guided her to sit on the couch in the common room. Jackson was getting her medicine for the pain in her arms and back. Ethan was sleeping soundly in his Carrier as little Maria watched him. Brandon was with James Morgan as the older man taught him sign language. Ever since meeting these few victims, Tony could not just leave them to suffer alone.

Mrs. Lopez's home had been burned to the ground. She had no family to go to as her parents had passed away and her husband's parents were too old to be able to take care of a baby while she was at physical therapy. Jackson still had highschool so he could only take care of his brother after he got home.

James Morgan had no legs and no job. His phobia of blood making it hard to work as a nurse or near a hospital. But he still helped the best he could. Tony was going to offer him a job as a teacher in the Avengers Initiative. Many heroes, super human or not, could learn a thing or two from him.

The twins, Maria and Brandon Simmons, had mutant powers. Maria was telepathic, though she wore a necklace her mother made that helped block it. Brandon was able to create explosions with his hands if he thought about it hard enough. But like his sister, he had a necklace that blocked it. Professor Xavier was going to send Jean Grey and Logan Howlett in one week a month to help them build their powers.

Once they were old enough he would collect them from the Tower for proper training and education. As they were only eight. Although Maria was still very against either of them leaving so soon. Since they had been there with the twins since they were found. Neither X-Men minded.

Tony wasn't sure how Jackson Lopez was mentally. He had suffered trauma at the hands of Hydra after his father's identity was leaked. The Latino boy was tense when his mother was gone for longer than he had been told. More than once Vision had been called to gently calm him down from a panic attack or raging fit. It seemed the android was the only one who calm the teenager down. Despite the former's inexperience with emotions.

"You're not gonna let em walk free are you?"

Tony looked at Jackson as he walked over. The seventeen year old was slower than the stories Agatha told him. Tony guessed it was because he didn't want to startle his mom.

"No. They'll get long sentences."

That seemed to satisfy the boy. He went on to help his mother with her medicine. Tony's attention went to James Morgan. The other man was quietly teaching sign language, his eyes fond but full of grief and sorrow. Brandon seemed to help. Maria was quietly rocking the baby in his Carrier. Cooing over how tiny he was and getting a small smile from Agatha.

Yeah, the Accords will be able to prevent things like this from ever being normal when heroes went to save the day. Tony rubbed Agatha's back. Seeing these few victims of his former team's mistakes, he couldn't help but wonder if it could have been prevented. If Maximoff never sided with Ultron, the Simmons Twins would have their parents. If Barnes had surrendered, James would have his life and his family. If Romanoff and Rogers had asked him for help, Agatha wouldn't be a widow.

Then Jackson wouldn't have to act as the man of the house. And Ethan would not have to grow up not knowing his father.

Tony promised himself and them that the Rogues would never harm another family.

He promised them they would get their justice.

He promised.

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sunnysideprincess · 10 months

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Is plot vomit a thing because—

AU where Tony suddenly starts acting like any "normal" person in his position would. He follows orders on fields, does team bonding exercise(s) diligently and doesn't pick fights with the press or Pepper etc. Everyone is sort of surprised at first, but the change comes right after the team gets back together after the CW and when Rhodey is sent away for recovery. So they chalk it up to some guilt induced thing. He even shuts down Friday and the bots for Wanda's sake.

Days, months and a whole year goes by and while the world loves this new version of Tony Stark, the Avengers slowly realise how much they had come to rely on the impulsive decisions, the reckless (planned) abandonment with which Tony handled everything —from the missions, to the media circus and even the kidvengers.

Soon enough, the team begins to realise that something's wrong when Tony dodges all questions about Rhodey.

Then Nick Fury arrives with the intention of introducing Captain Marvel (disregarding the first CM movie here) but the duo immediately clock Tony out as an imposter, because the later has been fighting skrulls her whole life.

Tony Stark is revealed to be a skrull, who had replaced the real Tony way back in Siberia, when he was left behind and Rhodey has been locked up in a secure facility, under the pretense of recovery because everyone knew he would have been the first one to be entirely suspicious of this newer, "better" iron man.

#i want to write this but there's so much plot #and i am swimming in the sea of real life work and my other fic wips #tony stark #prompts #prompt #fic prompt #mcu #skrulls #cacw #cacw AU

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captaintoomanybattles · 11 months

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for wip wednesday perhaps some 'bucky romania'?

Sure thing! Thank you for the ask. :)

Irina has her face smushed into Bucky’s shoulder, chubby fists wrapped in his shirt as she continues to wail.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” says Bucky, irritated. “Look, she just woke up and she hasn’t had a snack yet, could you just…” He trails off, realizing he was just about to ask a hostile vigilante to give him ten minutes to calm Irina down.

Civilian life has clearly destroyed his ability to react appropriately in a crisis.

#bucky barnes #wip ask game #my fic #cacw au #marvel #t'challa

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if-you-onlyknew · 2 years

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My Baby Shot Me Down

Written by @katiekinswrites + @if-you-onlyknew

Chapter Update - Read Chapter 14

Preview:

She chose to risk it all and run with him and Bucky still continued to push her away.

Maggie took in a shaky breath as she stood up from her seat. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She walked away from the small table. “ I decide what I want to do with my life. I choose. And I chose you!” Maggie felt delirious. “I keep choosing you but you’re constantly pushing me away or leaving me and I — I just, you know what? I’ll give you what you want.”

She grabbed a coat and walked towards the door.

Bucky dropped his hands to his lap as he watched her walk away. His mouth was hanging open a little at her words. He knew he’d been out of practice with women but it was like he had no idea how to properly communicate feelings!

“You want me to go be a doctor? To fall in love with Steve? To forget you — that’s what you fucking want? For me to hate you?” It was all rhetorical, of course. “You want me gone — I’m gone.” She reached for the doorknob.

Bucky was shaking his head before she finished speaking. None of that was what he wanted—except for her becoming a doctor; he wanted that because it was her dream!

Before the door could be opened, a hand slammed flat against the wood, holding it shut. Bucky looked down as he loomed over Maggie. The expression in his eyes was thick. He had no idea how to express what he was feeling inside. In fact, at the rate he was going, he was certain he’d just continue to fuck everything up like usual. But seeing Maggie so distraught wasn’t going to stand.

“I’m not saying this right,” he told her in frustration, his voice thick and low as he tried to keep himself from jumping her. His left hand balled into a fist low at his side as he restrained himself from touching her. Bucky wanted to push her against the door and show her physically how he felt, but that seemed wrong despite his tendency to get violent when provoked.

Her eyes were hard, narrowed at Bucky as he trapped her in place. She was trying her hardest not to let the tears that were building in the back of her eyes out — too stubborn to let Bucky see her cry right now.

#fic: my baby shot me down #muse: bucky barnes x maggie hastings #mcu au #marvel fic #bucky barnes #oc: maggie hastings #captain america: civil war #cacw fic

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novelmonger · 1 year

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WIP Tuesday

Tagged by @dairogo. I'm taking this opportunity to plug my sideblog. If you like what you see here, follow @griseldabanks for more discussion and excerpts!

This is from my Captain America fic, Take Me In, which is an AU of Civil War (...ish), in which Bucky has already been reunited with Steve. Fun fact: This excerpt was originally how I was going to start the fic, but now it's stuck in the middle of Chapter 2.

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“I'm going to tell him today.”

Steve slowly straightened, looking in the mirror at the reflection of Bucky standing in the bathroom doorway. He took his time rinsing off his razor and drying his chin before he turned to face his best friend. “Are you sure?”

Bucky bit his lip, hugging his arms to his chest as if to stave off a chill. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then pressed his lips together again and nodded.

Steve had kept an eye on Bucky in the day since the party, and he found himself focusing on Bucky every time he'd tried to think through the training schedule he'd be introducing to the other Avengers today. Any time Bucky came face-to-face with Tony, he would immediately turn around and leave, or at least avert his gaze. Steve wondered what Tony or any of the others thought of this. Hopefully, they just saw it as a sign that Bucky was shy or afraid of being teased or something.

As silly as it might seem, Steve had been almost as apprehensive as Bucky had been about that first meeting. It wasn't as if Tony knew the truth about Bucky—that was the whole problem. Steve could only imagine how Tony would respond once he found out. But no matter what he did or said, Steve knew Bucky would take it hard.

Crossing the room, Steve reached out and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. “You don't have to say anything until you're ready, Buck. You know...I mean, it's not going to...change anything.”

Bucky shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “He deserves to know,” he said in a choked whisper. “And I...I can't just...keep quiet anymore, Steve. Every time I look at him, all I can think about is...what happened. It's...eating me up inside....” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “But that shouldn't matter; it doesn't matter what I feel, when he's the one who....”

Steve pulled him into a hug to shut him up. Trembling all over, Bucky clutched at him desperately. In the weeks since Bucky had admitted the terrible truth, Steve hoped he'd managed to convince Bucky he wasn't a heartless monster for what he'd been forced to do. Or at least that he still had some value despite what had happened.

Holding Bucky close, Steve let out a sigh. He didn't know how to make Bucky see that he was as much a victim in all this as Tony was; he'd already used all the words he could think of. “What you did all those years,” he murmured, “it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered. “But I did it.”

And what could he say to that? He could only hold Bucky, heart aching for what he knew Bucky had to do. Because he was right. Tony did deserve to know the dark secret Bucky held. He deserved to know that his parents had died, not because of a random accident, but because they had been specifically targeted for the serum Howard had carried. But as much as Tony deserved the truth, Steve couldn't think of a single outcome that would bring anything but pain.

“I'll come with you,” he finally said, rubbing his hand up and down Bucky's spine.

Bucky was silent for a moment, but then he pulled back, out of Steve's embrace. “No,” he said, staring at the floor. “He should...hear it from me. Alone.”

Every protective instinct in Steve's heart yearned to protest, to shield him from the inevitable pain he would face. But he forced himself to nod and say, “All right. If you think that's best. But...come see me after?”

“Okay,” Bucky breathed. He stood there for a moment more, then slowly turned and walked away, dragging his feet as if walking to the gallows.

Steve watched him leave, his stomach twisting with dread.

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If you're wondering how they got to this point, you can read my fic Make Me Whole ;)

And I'm going to be one of Those People and say: If you're reading this and have a WIP, consider yourself tagged!

#wip #wip tuesday #fanfiction #writing #captain america #captain america civil war #cacw #AU #whole shards #take me in #steve rogers #bucky barnes #brooklynbros #not stucky #this is a pretty good indicator of how angsty this fic is going to be :P #(and this is just small potatoes compared to where it ends up going >:D)

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starcchild · 2 years

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((pyro carter au

#ground control (ooc)#((that's it that's the post #dfsgjhksgfd but seriously I'm gonna;;; make this an au because I just #love pyro!Carter so much fsdgjhsdf #I just don't know if she'd be a mutant or an inhuman but it'd probably be genetic from her mother's side #I'm leaning more towards inhuman because I'm more familiar with that from aos than I am with the mutant side of things #the only issue is the whole terrigen crystal/mist triggering the change in Carter for her to get her powers #so the mutant thing would be easier and I honestly might just go with that since I don't know how to go about the terrigen crystal thing #for her in her background - but either way I wanna do pyro!Carter sdfgjhsfd #she'd hide her powers and Tony would've helped her figure out how to control them #but she hides them for her own safety and for the safety of others because she doesn't want it to get out of her control #and I can definitely see it being an issue come cacw given she /is/ an enhanced and someone who would be affected by the accords #and also it'd be fun for another character to discover she has abilities if they catch her using them or she needs to use them to protect #them or herself - ideally her using her abilities to protect them sjdgffg))

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riricitaa · 4 months

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A stucky au in which Steve is Steve and Bucky is Bucky, the only difference is: they weren't friends, they briefly met in the 40's during ww2 and of course the catws and cacw events never happened. Now Steve is assigned to train Bucky after he was rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D and recovered from the winter soldier programming with the help of the avengers, and now he is trying to figure it out in this new world as the avenger's new recruit. inspired by this old anonymous request that I accidentally found while I was cleaning my inbox and I do apologise if it is very old and whoever requested it probably thought I ignored it or forgot about it but I didn't tumblr sometimes doesn't notify me...

#stucky #alternate universe #stucky au #stucky alternate universe #stevebucky #stevebucky au #stevebucky alternate universe #stucky edit #stucky edits #stucky gifs #stucky manips #stevebucky gifs #stevebucky edits #stevebucky manips #my edit #my gifs #my aus #mine #*

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onsunnyside · 2 years

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⋆⁺ ☁︎ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!Steve, nomad!Steve, neighbours-to-lovers, smut: sexual content (blink and you’ll miss it), angst, the blip: implied/mentioned characters (& reader) getting blipped

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He’s a man on the run and you’re a chameleon soul, and if only things were as simple as they seem.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.56K

𝗔/𝗡 | I realized I hadn’t written any angst yet, and as someone with a guilty pleasure of angsty fics, I was appalled. This is an au of where steve went while he was on the run, set between CACW and/after AIW. Heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Video Games, Lucky Ones, and Ride (& the monologue). All mistakes are my own. [all asks]

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everything surrounding you is mellow and comforting. The sun had long set, taking away those burning white rays, and leaving the humid summer air in its wake. You inhale once, and then again.

Behind you, he shifts, his cotton shirt is smooth against your back, and his foot brushes yours. Heat radiates from his skin and it soothes you in ways that words can neven describe.

Living like this feels like an art form itself, which only makes it ironic since you aren’t doing much at all.

You wonder if you blink, you’d slip back into that drift. It wasn’t a place, no, it was everywhere and in everything—to you, it was a state of being.

An inconsistent course of muted colours and blurred faces, forgettable names spoken in unique voices and memories that bounce between heavenly and awful. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments in that drift.

You had always been a little wild at heart, and as you grew older, fewer and fewer things and people could keep you tamed, satisfied—still.

That obsession for wonder and freedom sent your life into a spiral that has landed you in cities all over the world, with people of all kinds. In a way, they are with you now, all those experiences have brought you here, and someday, this moment will bring you to another.

Hopefully, one with him.

He didn’t like when you spoke like that though, he wanted you to know he’d always be there. Most times, you found yourself believing him, and other times you let his voice play over whatever tune was stuck in your head.

Life was an open road, and him—he was a beautiful, vast garden on the side. And for the past year, you’ve been picking your collection of coloured petals to keep in your pocket. Every time you’d pick a flower, two more sprouts and, they’re always more intricate and stunning than the last.

A large part of you wanted to stay here forever, to be with him until you’re old and grey, and it took a few months for you to admit that to him. Not because of pride or fear, but because of false hope. You didn’t want to plant seeds of faith into his heart, only to crush the seedlings with the tires of your motorcycle.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

You cocked a brow, lowly muttering his name, “Grant, if that isn’t a way to doom a relationship, I don’t know what is.”

And he understood your hesitance, Steve was all too familiar with the style to up and run, hell, he did it for half a year before landing in this blip on a map.

That’s where you were similar. Of course, for different reasons—ephemerality is woven into your soul, while his was the cause of a circumstance and the fact that he was a wanted fugitive.

“—and postcards, lots of them,” Sam’s voice is equally excited and sorrowful, “and the nice ones, none of those crappy, flimsy ones that won’t survive the trip.”

Natasha is different, there is a tinge of happiness in her green eyes but her face is serious, deadly even. “Keep in touch, and I mean it. Hide all you want, I will find you if I have to.”

“You sure it won’t be the other way around?” Steve chuckled, embracing her tightly. “Something tells me you’ll both be off on a wild adventure soon… I hope you’ll tell me about it when we meet again.”

That was over a year ago. And since then, he’s sent dozens of postcards to them, each with short descriptions of his life in point-form, never going into too much detail. His old phone was tucked into his nightstand, it was only for emergencies since he could still be tracked if the government tried.

In this little town, life was good, simple with next to zero worries hovering over his head. Here is the sun was the most radiant.

You were a true ghost, if Steve could call you that, but that also meant you were a clean slate. A fresh start that he’s craved so deeply, a new beginning that he deserved.

You’ve been on the road for years and are a master hitchhiker, he knew that much. You’ve lost count of the miles, the places you’ve occupied and the souls you’ve met. You didn’t have a cellphone, a television, or read the newspaper. You had no clue who he was, what he’s done.

Although, the long hair and thick beard were to thank for that cluelessness as well.

No one in this town knew who he was, and with that, he was able to create someone new. Grant was someone untouched by the Avengers, the Accords and unscathed by any extraterrestrial existence. Just him. Only him. The sole performer and artist, creating his own story as he goes on.

“You aren’t even looking at the clouds, Grant.”

“I am,” he answers, that charming grin growing wider by the second, “they’re in your eyes.”

“I have clouds… in my eyes?”

“Yeah, c’mere and let me see if I can make anything from it.” He’s quick to pull you closer, his hands cupping your face. His blue eyes sear into yours, so full of adoration that it makes your knees a little weak.

You press your hands on his chest. There’s a faint thump beneath your fingertips, and it’s almost in time with yours. “See anything?”

“Hm? What?” He blinks, those thick lashes fanning across his cheekbones. “Oh, just got a little lost, you know…” His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you closer, “…in the clouds.” Your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss.

The delicacy reels you in and silences those pessimistic voices, and now in the quiet, you follow willingly.

You’ve been hurt before but Grant—dearest Grant could destroy you with a single sentence. The worst part is that you don’t have to tell him for him to know, he was well aware of the effect he had on you, the way you’d fold if he asked. It was a foreign feeling you had never felt before, and it scared you.

You felt vulnerable with him despite the glass that has moulded to your skin, keeping you protected yet, within your own terms, exposed.

And him, he’s only ever made you feel safe and secure with that openness.

Blooming from that comfort, that freedom to mess up, be understood and be forgiven, is love. With stupid absolute, you’ve fallen in love with him.

Yet you don’t even know his real name. To you and this town, he’s Grant, to the rest of the world and planets in far places, he’s Steve Rogers.

“What’s got you actin’ so sweet today? Have you done anything that you suddenly regret?” You ask with a slight glare but there’s no heat behind it, nor your question.

“I may have forgotten to load the dishwasher before coming here… also think I forgot my ID, so if we get pulled over, you’ve got to do the talking.”

“Oh, as if Marco gives a crap about us all the way up here.” You turn away again, leaning on Steve who was sitting on the hood of his car. Below the cliffside is one of the smallest towns you’ve ever seen.

With a population in the low hundreds, one local school, bar and extremely limited contact with the rest of the world, it was a stark contrast to the big, sparkling cities you’ve experienced.

Definitely not stellar.

“Ugh, this town fucking sucks. It makes me wonder why I even stayed this long—not like anything is keeping me here anyway. No hot steamy year-long romance to keep me tied down.”

Steve laughs sarcastically, pinching your hip. “Ha, ha, baby, you ever think of doing stand-up?”

“Yeah, I’ve dreamt of it,” you play along as your head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, “but I think I’ll stick to my one-woman show at Jerry’s dingy bar.”

As if you could call it a show, it was more like grabbing the microphone between shifts and singing whatever new song the live band had learnt.

Over the years, you’ve picked up odd jobs in whichever city you landed in, and as for performing, you’ve done it before in motels, restaurants, and bars. Never staying too long to create a name for yourself, rather just leaving out of the blue like a fleeting moment, a fever dream to the citizens.

At the beginning of your journey and by your fifth city, you realized that temporariness fuelled that insatiable hunger for freedom.

Looking back, you acknowledge the variety of taste, colour, and sound. In that state of being, in that drift, you are truly alone because you are lost in it, and being without yourself within yourself is a scary thing. It’s something you’re all too familiar with from being on the road for so long.

“You just belong everywhere, huh?” Grant asked in awe at your endless array of stories from travelling the world, “Like a chameleon—you stay all the same, but change just enough to blend into wherever you are.”

“You talk about it like it’s a talent.”

“It is.” He sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. “Not everyone can survive anywhere at any time—let alone, be happy and thrive from it.”

You’ve always searched for a home, often making do with the kindness of strangers, but when you met Steve there was nothing else that could compare.

Being alone once is enough, and meeting new souls is magical but being in his arms for a few moments is unrivalled.

You loved that freedom, but you loved Grant—Steve more. Your commitment to him has stretched to a year, and despite becoming a recognizable face in this town, you don’t want to leave without him.

You’ve spoken about skipping town someday, you want to show him your favourite cities, and hopefully meet up with those kind strangers who have helped you in more ways than one, some of which you only know the first name of.

“We’ll always have tomorrow to decide.” You closed his notebook, ending his pros and cons list of travelling further East versus going up North. “And if we still can’t choose tomorrow, then we have the next day and the day after that. This free lifestyle doesn’t come with itineraries, Grant. When will you get that through your pretty head?”

Infinite time meant your obsession will never go unfulfilled—which also meant an infinite amount of time together, and endless chances to show Grant everything you want.

That’s the difference between the two of you.

You believe there is a tomorrow, there will be another opportunity to hold him like this, to feel his breath on your lips.

Steve knows different.

You live in the land of tomorrow while Steve lives in the present.

His bag is packed, his suit is laid out on the lumpy mattress and his plants have already been given to Mr. Carter who lives down the street, a kind old man who took them with a joyous grin.

“I knew it, you kids are finally getting out of here while you can.”

Kids, as if Steve wasn’t over a hundred years old.

Mr. Carter brought Steve in for a weak hug, his fragile bones only allowing so much. When he pulls away, his wrinkled hands gently cradle the potted plants. “Wish I was as wild as her. If I were young like you, I’d do the same thing,” he trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You are both lucky to do it together.”

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth and just nodded. “Yeah, luck.”

He hasn’t given up on you, nor what the both of you can create together. He’s postponing it—setting it in a box and stuffing it under his bed, he’ll be back for it, and for you. He’ll return once the world is repaired and he can finally formally retire.

Is it worth it to break his own heart, to break you, to protect the entire universe?

“Grant? What’s wrong?”

Steve is quick to make up a lame excuse of being tired because, of course, he can’t tell you.

He’s bitter about it—god, he’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. He’s given his life to the world and to the people who inhabit it, he doesn’t regret that but you, he’s been selfish for the past year by keeping you tucked away.

Not even Natasha and Sam know the details, all they know is that he found a reason to stay in the shittiest little town on the planet.

When his phone rang, he was surprised to hear Bruce, half-expecting and half-hoping for it to be Tony.

It didn’t take long for him to get into that mindset again, to be the captain that everyone needed. First on his list was to meet Natasha and Sam, they probably already know what happened in New York while you and this town couldn’t be more clueless.

That’s why he loved it here.

He wanted to take you with him, but he couldn’t consciously put you in danger. He was fortunate enough to be unrecognizable in this place and he can only imagine the shock when you realize who he really is.

You didn’t even know his last name, he was just Grant, the man who moved in next door and had accidentally got your mail one too many times.

He tried to drop it off one afternoon but you never answered, so he scrapped the idea of respectful introductions and slipped it under your door. This went on for a few weeks, he learnt a bit about you—your name, and how you had plenty of friends from so many different places.

It made him wonder why you chose a town so tiny it fits into the palm of his hand.

One day, the yellow door swung open. You were standing there in an oversized t-shirt with a mug in your hand, “So it’s you.”

“Uh, yes?” He answers awkwardly, ducking under his cap as a force of habit. He’s been in town for over a month, yet no one has recognized him yet. A random stroke of luck. “I live next door, I keep getting your mail.”

“Paula is just getting up there with age, I don’t think she can read as well as before.” You take the envelopes, skimming through them before tossing them on the counter.

His gaze drags over your features, your hair and eyes, he takes notice of the sunlight shining around you like liquid gold. Okay, maybe he needs more friends if his heart is racing at the sight of a pretty woman.

“Why don’t you answer your door?”

“Heavy sleeper.” You yawn, “I work nights at the motel, and come back and sleep all day.”

“Oh,” when he realizes he’s still on his knees at your door, he quickly stands, dusting his jeans, “I’m—” Steve, “Grant, I’m Grant, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You look between his face and his outstretched hand, a slow smile crawling onto your lips. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. “I’ll tell Paula about the mail, hopefully, it won’t happen again.”

And when your door shut, he couldn’t help but hope it did.

The next time you met, it was because of a local stray cat.

It was the fourth night in a row that Steve was sitting on the park bench outside the apartment complex. The can of cat food sitting next to him, opened as the smell wafted to his nose. He taps his foot on the ground, checking his watch.

Then, the lobby door opens and you walk out, this time in a loose dress with a leash in your hand, and a familiar little animal by your side. Suddenly, that cat darts to the left.

“Inky, hey! Calm down!” The harness slips from your hand, making you jerk to the side and nearly lose your shoe in a jagged slab of concrete.

Inky? Steve doesn’t have a chance to question the name before the stray springs onto his lap, nudging his hand before finding delight in the canned food. “Hi, Rocky, how have you been, fella?”

You stumble in front of him, an apology on your lips before you notice that baseball cap atop long, blond hair.

“So it’s you again.” You squint down at him, “he’s supposed to be on a diet.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “what?”

“I thought he was getting a little thicker, and it’s because of you.” You crouch down beside the bench, untangling the leash from his stubby legs. “I’ve been feeding this guy for weeks, I noticed easily.”

“He’s a stray.”

“Not anymore, I adopted him.” You correct, “really recently actually.”

“But I’ve been feeding him since I got here.” Steve frowns, leaving out the fact that he’s also told many secrets to the animal, enough to even rival Bucky’s knowledge. “He’s—his name is Rocky.”

“Inky.” You sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat, rubbing between his ears, one of them missing the tip. “I guess I can't take away your only friend…”

“I have friends.” Steve is quick to reply.

“In this town?” You ask skeptical, “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, and no one else knows anything about you.”

That sparks his interest. “You asked about me?” He smiles, pink lips drew into a grin.

Your eyes widen before you turn away, and an odd bubbly feeling fills your stomach. You clear your throat, “Anyway, I suppose we can work out an arrangement, co-parenting this little thing can’t be that hard.”

You both decide on Inky spending weekends at Steve’s place, and somehow those rotating weeks turned into dinner invites that bled into nights on your couch, talking about yourselves and nonsense.

And soon he was walking into your apartment unannounced, making you dinner before you woke up to go to the motel, and later, he’d be there when you returned in the early hours, sleeping on the couch with Inky on his chest.

Your first kiss was on that very bench too. You took Inky (or Rocky) to watch the sunrise on one of your days off, and Steve couldn’t look away from you.

He likes to think that he made the first move, but he knows that’s wrong.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers before peering up at him with those soft, tired eyes. When your lips met, it was like everything had suddenly made sense—the steady growth from neighbours to friends, then to kissing on the park bench at seven in the morning.

It only made it harder to leave you.

At least Steve knows that in every lifetime, he’d choose you.

In a way, he believes he has met you a million times and yet this is the one when he becomes aware of it.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

What an honour it would be—but that could be his inner masochist speaking.

In those million times, he’s chosen you every chance, and that little voice of doubt asks if you chose him too—or if he just got lucky this time.

Of course, you did, you’ve told him every day. In different ways, quiet ways, by waking him up with a massage, dancing with him in the kitchen, and sitting still for hours while he sketched you.

Steve didn’t work, his excuse was a hearty inheritance from his family, but in truth, he had a few duffel bags filled with cash that he withdrew before going on the run. Being in this town for a year has barely made a dent in it, and he can see himself spending days on end here, with you, and with Rocky.

Everything he’s going to do is for the long run, so he can come back and hold you in his arms, bathe in your glow and feel it igniting his cells. There’s nothing like it, like being with you.

He almost hesitates when getting into his rental, his hair falling into his face as he stares at your opened windows, the breeze flutters your curtains.

You got back from work a few hours ago, your final moments together were spent in the bathtub as he had you once last time, touching and feeling you against his skin. Then, he carried you to bed, memorizing every inch of your face before he cooked you dinner for when you woke up, alone.

He’s left you the keys to his car, placed the duffel bags outside your bedroom and the letter on your nightstand. Rocky was following him around until he shut the front door, locking it and sliding the key into his pocket. He could hear his quiet meows through the wood, alternating between pleading and curious, as if he were asking, “Where are you going? Why are you leaving”

The blistering heat is going to be cruel the next few days and he fixed your air conditioner the previous night, but you won’t know until you read the letter.

Right now, he doesn’t even know what it was. An apology, or a promise, it felt cowardly if anything—could it be his final words? Not the last one, he dreads that sheet of paper being the last piece of him in your life.

When Steve returns to the town, his confidence in the dry dirt, and any resilience is swept away with the snap of golden fingers. Natasha nearly flew straight over it, mistaking it for being a ghost town.

After getting off the jet, reality settles in. Less than half of the inhabitants remain, and he’s only spotted a handful, all wearing matching expressions of confusion and despair.

He races up to your apartment, shouting your name and banging on the door but he receives no reply.

As if the world had been sucked of colour, the yellow of your door isn’t as fresh as he remembers. The corners are crackling, and more importantly, the doorknob is different.

The key he’s guarded feels heavy, and all of sudden, his chest constricts. The air is thin, barely supplying enough for him to stay upright before he braces himself on the doorframe. God, even the smell is different—it doesn’t feel the same, it feels off.

That impurity wraps around his ankles, yanking him into the darkness and he reaches for something, anything, which happens to be the tattered welcome mat under his feet. The new key is shiney, gleaming up at him like a cruel reminder of how much he truly hurt you.

He almost thinks you left too. Abandoned this town because your voracious appetite for freedom won again, and there wasn’t anything left for you here so you went to search somewhere else.

This town was in your past, just like the rest.

But no, this is far worse. This is a nightmare.

There’s a cellphone on the couch, and an old television on your coffee table, the price tag still stuck to the side and it’s on, it plays reruns of the news from a neighbouring city, it’s fuzzy and full of static but he can make out the headline.

“Billions of Mysterious Disappearances Worldwide.”

Half of the world, half of the universe is gone. They lost.

He forces himself to look away, wiping the tears from his eyes to focus on something else. Despite the new devices, the duffel bags are still sitting untouched, unopened and full.

The dishes are left in the sink, trash is in the bin, and the windows are closed with the dull hum of the air conditioner filling the room.

Then, he spots the half-empty glass of water on the table, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface.

Tentatively, he calls your name once more. He’s in denial, the syllables hammering into his head as he waits for you to answer—for you to appear in disbelief as he stands in your living room, dressed in a dirty navy uniform with a cut above his brow, and blood on the corner of his mouth.

Steve waits and waits until the final plane of glass beneath his feet breaks, and with that, his heart falls into the depths. It crashes into the ground, lying in a bed of memories and anguish.

He sinks into the couch, clenching his gloved fists, the television fades away as his final string of hope is severed.

First Bucky, then Sam, and now you.

Your apartment is empty, void of any life, or so he thinks before he hears quiet patters on the hardwood before a small, furry creature enters his view.

His right ear is missing the tip, his eyes glow with interest before he darts towards Steve, leaping onto his lap. He holds that cat like he’s a lifeline, burying his nose into his fur, soaking the coat with more tears.

There’s a collar around his neck, Inky/Rocky is carved into the metal plate, along with your address.

There are footsteps in the hall, then Natasha is standing at the door, holding her hip with a pinched expression. She has dried blood on her cheeks, and her blonde hair is messy.

They rushed here, barely having time to collect themselves before Steve was madly hunting for a jet. Right now, she didn’t have to ask any questions to know the answer. Her green eyes survey your apartment, the signs of your abrupt disappearance are all too obvious.

There are only a few picture frames hooked on the walls, but all of them have Steve and you, a few even have that little cat too. Steve looks happy in those frozen moments in time, smiling so casually while always touching you—you’re in his lap, under his arm, or pressed against him until not a sliver of air is between the both of you.

To her, this apartment feels homey, no temporary pressure hangs over, just potential. Something planned but not to the book, a simple promise for more.

If she had to name it, she’d pick the word tomorrow.

There was going to be more here, or there was going to be more that came from here. Whether it moved to another place, there was going to be more, that was definite.

And meeting Steve’s eyes, she knows she’s correct in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He knows, and he is too, but not for himself.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! wrote most of this one night while listening to Lana and i’m very proud of how it ended out, i haven’t written much angst here yet so here’s to the future !! And of course, free to send asks about this fic !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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