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literaryavenger · 6 months

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I love you and I hate it - part 2

Summary: After your fight with Bucky, you put all your efforts into avoiding him, convinced that your friendship is over. Bucky, however, has other plans.

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Reader being dramatic. Angst. Language maybe. Minimal use of Y/N. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: I promise I didn't mean to make it this long, but I couldn't help myself, again, and I didn't want to end on another 'cliffhanger' so here it is! hope you like it!

Part 1

Masterlist

Bucky can't believe what he just heard... You like him?

No, you used the word ‘love’. You love him.

Do you love him?

Certainly, he would’ve noticed if you did... Right? He is a trained assassin, he was taught how to see beyond people’s words and actions.

And he knows you, you can deny it all you want, but he knows you better than anyone. He knows you better than he knows himself.

And if he’s being honest, you know him better than anyone ever has, Steve included.

You feel safe, you feel calm. You feel like the peace he’s always wanted, the quiet he needs.

You feel like home. In a platonic way, of course.

Right?

His thoughts of you are interrupted by Sharon’s voice. He didn’t even realize he was back at the party.

"Where did you go?" she asks and, suddenly, her grip on his arm was just a little too tight for his liking. But it was probably nothing.

"I went to check if Y/N was okay."

"Oh." something in her voice felt wrong, but Bucky tried to ignore it, that is until what she said next.

"Why would you even care about her? All she does is embarrass you like before. She’s useful to no one, I heard the only reason she’s even on the team is because she slept her way to it." she laughed like it was the funniest thought in the world, and Bucky couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Not only was she saying hurtful, untrue things about his girl, but she has the audacity to laugh at her own cruelty?

"How dare you?" he does his best not to yell, but his tone still startles Sharon. "Y/N is the best agent in all of Shield, that’s why she got in the team! She’s not an embarrassment, she’s a valued member of our family and she’s my best friend! Of course I care about her, she’s the most important person in my life! Don’t ever talk about her that way again."

Sharon seems shocked at his words but, looking around, she realizes people are starting to stare so she tries her best to defuse the situation. "Alright, I’m sorry, I won’t say things like that again. Let’s just calm down and have a nice rest of the evening, ok?"

In his head Bucky knew her request was reasonable, he could forget about this and keep having fun with his girlfriend. But in his heart he just knew he couldn’t let it go.

The words were coming out of his mouth before he can stop them, not that he even wants to.

"You know what, Sharon? This isn’t working. We have to break up." He doesn’t even give her a chance to say anything before he’s turning around and making his way to his room.

Meanwhile, on the roof, Steve’s trying to talk you down the ledge. Metaphorically speaking, obviously.

"He hates me, Steve." you can't stop the tears.

"Stop saying that, sweetheart, he doesn’t hate you."

"You saw what happened at the party, the way he looked at me. And he heard me say that I love him and walked away like it was nothing." You sniffle. "If he didn’t hate me before, this certainly pushed him off the edge."

Steve has nothing to say to that, he knows Bucky doesn't hate you, but he also knows that you’re too stubborn to hear any reason, especially not right now when you're in the eye of the tornado and can't see a way out.

Right now you need a friend and shoulder to cry on, usually Bucky would take on that role, but, given the circumstances, Steve decides to step up and be that friend.

He wraps his arms around your crying body and holds you as you let it all out. Neither of you say anything else, the only sounds in the dark of the night being your sobs, until eventually you calm down and after a few moments of silence Steve glances down to see you fell asleep.

Not wanting to wake you he carefully picks you up and makes his way to the elevator.

When he gets to the floor you both reside in he finds Sam and Natasha chatting at the kitchen counter, probably about to go to bed after coming up from the party.

Sam gives him a confused look, while Nat seems to understand what is going on right away as she moves without saying a word, walking ahead of Steve towards your room.

She opens the door for him and walks in behind, moving the covers back as he lays you on your bed as carefully as he can, and then Nat delicately takes your heels off before covering you with the duvet.

As they’re leaving your room the door opposite yours opens, revealing a hopeful Bucky but when he sees it’s not you, his face becomes stoic once again. He’s about to ask where you are when Natasha beats him to the punch.

"Leave her alone, Barnes. You’ve hurt her enough already." Is all she says before she steps into her own bedroom.

Bucky looks to his best friend for help but, at his confused face, the blonde super soldier just shakes his head in disappointment and walks away without a word.

Bucky stands there for a few minutes, just staring at your door like he's gonna will you to open it and talk to him.

He sighs and goes back to his room where he spends the next few hours overthinking about you and this whole night, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning when you wake up you feel at peace for about 10 seconds before the events of last night hit you like a truck, and all you can feel is humiliation.

How can you face the team after they witnessed your fight with Bucky?

How can you face Steve after he saw you at your most vulnerable and, apparently, carried you to bed after you cried yourself to sleep?

How can you face Bucky after he heard you say you love him and he walked away from you?

You can’t, that’s the answer.

Should you just move out? Just quit the team, ask Hill to be reassigned? Maybe you could even get transferred to another country...

You’re not overreacting, right? This is a very embarrassing situation and you have every right to want to run away from all of it.

As you’re making up an escape plan in your mind you hear a knock on your door, followed by Steve’s voice. "Hey, are you awake? We just want to make sure you're okay…"

You try to be as silent as you can, slowing down your breathing praying he’ll think you’re sleeping.

You can hear him exchange some muffled words with what sounds like Natasha, and then you hear their footsteps as they walk away, so you let out a relieved sigh.

Okay, step one is definitely getting out of this room, it’s just the most obvious place where to look for you.

You get up and out of your awfully classy dress, take a shower being sure to clean away all the makeup from last night and put on the most comfortable sweats you own.

Just as you’re opening the door you can see Bucky opening his about to get out and, in a panic move, you run back inside your room and slam the door shut.

Very subtle, yes.

You rest your back against the door and can hear him sigh and then walk away.

You wait a few minutes, just to be sure, and then relax a little. Your plan was to go to the gym and work out a bit, but now all you can think about is getting the hell out of this compound.

You grab your purse, make sure to have your phone and keys in it and open the door, making sure no one’s around before getting out.

You’re practically running, taking the stairs for good measure, and in a flash you’re at the garage. You jump in your car and drive away as fast as you can without breaking the law, not even knowing where to go.

Once you’re in the city you stop at a cafe for breakfast near your favorite book store, the one you and Bucky have visited together a hundred times.

Okay, stop that. No more thinking about Bucky.

You spend the rest of the day just going from one store to the other, stopping to have lunch at the diner you always go to when you’re in the city, and trying not to kick yourself for not being able to stop thinking about Bucky.

Seriously, why can’t you stop thinking about him?

It doesn’t help the fact that every one of your favorite places has at least a hundred and twelve memories of Bucky.

God, have you ever gone anywhere on your own in the last two years?

The more memories come to mind the more you think that maybe transferring wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Go somewhere new, get a fresh start.

When it starts getting dark you decide to drive back to the compound, but when you park and turn the car off you can’t find it in yourself to get out.

You take out your phone, which you’ve been ignoring all day, and go through all the messages of your worried friends, hating yourself a little more when you catch yourself looking for his name in your notifications.

Just as you’re about to answer Tony’s texts first, you get a call from Steve. You stare at your phone, unsure if you can stomach answering him right now, but your decision is rendered moot when someone taps against your car window.

Your head snaps towards it and you let out a breath of relief when you see Steve standing there, holding his phone and using it to tap on your window again.

You close your eyes for a second but resign to your fate as you gather your things and get out of the car.

When you lock your car you turn to see that Steve moved to be leaning on the trunk of your car, so you join him and wait for him to say something, not knowing what to say yourself.

"So," he starts, with his arm folded in front of his chest and looking at his shoes "you’re avoiding all of us now?" You let out a sigh, feeling bad for hurting his feelings.

"I’m sorry, Steve. I just…" you can’t even look at him as you talk, so you just look ahead of you at all the cars "I’m just embarrassed. After everything that happened last night, I don’t know… God, you even carried me to bed like a child." you cover your face with your hands.

You finally look at him when you hear him chuckling. "That’s what friends do, Y/N. They lean on each other." he bumps your shoulder with his playfully.

"I know we’re not as close as you and Bucky, but I am your friend too. I’m not gonna judge you for last night, I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s what we all want. You made us worry that you might run away on us." He says the last part as a joke, but you can’t help looking away from him.

That’s exactly what you wanted to do.

You bite your lip as he keeps looking at you and you feel like he can see the gears turning in your head, like your thoughts are so loud and your guilt so visible that he knows right away he was right on the money.

"Y/N…" it’s almost a warning, but you still can’t find the courage to look at him. "You were seriously thinking of running away?!" he seems almost shocked.

"Okay, it’s not like I’m a teenager running away in the middle of the night after a fight with her parents!" you finally look at him. "I was just considering… I don’t know, maybe asking for a transfer?"

"So you actually want to leave the team just because you had a fight with Bucky?" He scoffs.

"It’s not just the fight, Steve, he knows I love him and he doesn’t even care!" You yell before sighing and lovering your voice.

"Do you realize how much that hurts? And now I’m supposed to, what? Just go back to how things used to be? Pretend like nothing happened? Even if we’re not friends anymore, he lives across the hall from me! I’m bound to see him and it’s gonna hurt every fucking time!" You’re almost crying, again, but you hold back not wanting to go through that again and you look away.

"I know it hurts, trust me, sweetheart, but… what about us?" you look at him again as he goes on. "We’re your team too. We’re your friends, we’re your family... You can’t just leave us. I'm not saying it's gonna be easy, but we can help you make it better. We all care about you a lot." It’s honestly a miracle you’re not crying already. You feel him take your hand, but don’t look away from his face.

"Please let us help you." you squeeze his hand and nod, not trusting your voice not to break and the flood to hit as soon as you open your mouth.

He smiles at you and you can’t help but do the same. "Good. Then let’s go up and have dinner like we always do." He starts walking and taking you with him, his hand still in yours.

While you’re waiting for the elevator you can’t hold yourself back as you turn to him and give him a tight hug. "Thank you."

He hugs you back just as tight. "Anytime, rookie." you snort and let go of him, giving him a punch in the arm you’re sure he didn’t even feel as he laughs with you.

When you get to the big kitchen most of the team is already there and you sit down next to Natasha while Steve sits at her other side.

The seat next to you is quickly occupied by Sam as he bings the pizza to the table. He gives you a side hug and squeezes your arm in sympathy but aside from that nobody even mentioned what happened last night, which you're grateful for.

You eat like always, having conversations, laughing and teasing each other like normal, you didn’t feel like anyone was pitying you and you realized Steve was right: these people are your family, you could never leave them.

And, as you watch Loki and Peter trying to make you laugh by messing with Thor’s hair, putting tiny umbrellas in it while he's not looking, you just know they’re gonna help you through everything.

What makes you sad to notice is that one brooding super soldier is missing, though you don’t bring it up for fear of opening that particular door.

And that’s how you spend the next few weeks: avoiding anything and everything that has to do with Bucky, including the man himself.

You start training with Natasha and realize how easy Bucky went on you.

You do more missions with Sam and Steve and realize that missions aren't as fun for everybody as they were for you and Bucky.

You hang out during your down time with pretty much everyone and realize that you couldn’t have as much fun with everyone as you had with Bucky.

So yeah, as much as you could avoid Bucky and talking about him to anybody, he lived rent free in your head.

Fun, huh?

It also didn’t help the look that Steve gave you every time you basically ran out of a room as soon as you caught a glimpse of your former best friend.

Everybody noticed the change in your friendship, but it felt like they all took a silent oath to not mention anything to either of you, and you were glad they were respecting your choice to stay away from Bucky.

He, on the other hand, was going crazy.

He hasn’t seen you in weeks, except for those few seconds before you realize he’s in the same room and run away.

He doesn’t hear your voice unless he’s eavesdropping on you with someone else, but even then he never hears his name come out of your mouth.

Nobody will tell him anything about you, the only thing he can get out of Steve is ‘she’s okay, just give her time’.

He’s been trying his best to give you the space you need, but he feels like he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t hear you say his name soon.

It’s been a month of successfully and not so subtly avoiding Bucky.

There was one time where, as the team about to land for a mission, he got much too close to you for your liking and you thought he was about to say something so you grabbed a parachute and quite literally jumped out the jet, then walked the rest of the way to the Hydra base.

Everyone had to wait for you, some annoyed, but most found the situation too amusing to be bothered by it.

Anyway.

You’re at the gym for an early morning workout, a habit you took to when you started avoiding Bucky.

You know he usually stays up at night. Occasionally because he still gets nightmares, usually because his overthinking mind tortures him until early hours. So he uses mornings to sleep in when he doesn’t have missions.

You’re on the treadmill when you hear the doors of the gym open behind you but think nothing of it, assuming it’s just Steve replacing his morning run with a workout because it’s too hot to run outside.

When you don’t hear him say anything, you’re about to turn your head to see who it is, but before you can do anything you feel two hands, one cold and one hot, on your waist.

You squeal when they pick you up and take you away from the treadmill, setting you down on the ground in front of it before turning off the machine.

"Bucky, what the fuck?! I could’ve gotten hurt!" you were so shocked you didn’t even fully realize you were actually talking to the person you’ve spent so much time and effort avoiding, or that you were walking backwards while Bucky was getting closer to you.

"Oh please, I’d ever let you get hurt." he’s sounds almost amused, like this is a normal thing between you two, but the truth is he’s just happy that you’re actually talking to him.

When your back hits the wall you realize too late that it’s Bucky in front of you and suddenly you’re looking around you to find a way to escape. But all you find is that he’s successfully trapped you between the wall and his body, his hands on the wall at either side of your head.

You swallow hard and if he notices he doesn’t say anything, but your brain is too busy registering the warmth of his body so close to yours to even be ashamed right now.

"Is this the only way I’ll get to talk to you now?" you almost miss his question, your eyes snapping up to meet his and, where you expected to see a smug look at having caught you not only off guard but also ogling, you found a frown and a slight pout.

Something about the hurt on his face stopped you from lying or straight up kicking him so he’d move and you could run away.

No, Bucky was your best friend, you’ve always felt the need to be honest with him ever since that first day, and even now you owe it to him to tell him nothing but the truth.

"I just need time." You hoped he understood.

"How much more time do you need?" Apparently not.

"I don’t know, can’t you just be patient?" You can't believe you really have to ask him this.

"It’s been a month, doll, I think I’ve been plenty patient. Are you planning on avoiding me forever?"

"Not forever… just… I don’t know." If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how long you would’ve kept on avoiding him.

You were so busy doing the actual avoiding that you didn’t take the time to think about when you’d be able to stop.

You let out a sigh, but didn’t look away from his eyes for a second. He needs to know you meant every word you're about to say. "I was hurting, Bucky. I still am. I get that you have a girlfriend-"

"I broke up with her." he interrupts you.

"You… What?" you weren’t expecting that. "When?"

"The night of our fight. I would’ve told you sooner but it was hard to catch you, you know, with you avoiding me and everything."

You almost lost your train of thought, but it didn’t matter that he was single, he was still the first one to walk away, why was it so wrong for you to do it now?

"It doesn’t matter… I know you don’t owe me anything, but you walked away from me. From my feelings." you can see Bucky’s confusion so, before he can say anything, you explain yourself.

"That night on the roof. I know you were there, you heard me say that I loved you and you walked away like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. I know you don’t like me like that, and I can live with that in time, but it hurt. It still hurts." you don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t he says next.

"Do you remember the day we met?" you furrow your brows in confusion but he waits for you to nod before he keeps going. "We’ve never really talked about it, have we? It's ironic since we’ve talked about pretty much every topic we could possibly come up with. But that day, you introduced yourself and I just got up and walked away. Kind of what you’ve been doing this past few weeks." he chuckles a bit and you have the impression he's getting closer to your face, but you're probably just imagining that.

"Yeah, I thought I did something wrong, but you were just a rude bitch." he laughs and you can’t help but smile.

"I’m sorry about that, I just… the second I saw you I felt weird. And when you talked to me it was too much, I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know what I was feeling and my brain just screamed at me to get out, so I did. Then you came to my door and said all those nice things and that weird feeling started to feel more and more comfortable as you talked. It was nice. Then we became friends and I guess I just dismissed that feeling as friendship. It was a different type of friendship that I’d never had... But then again I’ve never been this close to a woman. Emotionally speaking, of course." His hand comes to cup your cheek and you can’t speak, so he takes the opportunity to say everything he needs to say.

"This month has been hell for me, doll. I’ve missed you more than I’ve ever missed anybody in my entire life. Not being able to spend time with you, joke around, talk to you, barely even see you. It's been driving me insane. Being away from you for so long made me realize what that feeling was. You’re not just my best friend, you’re my person. You’re my calm, and my reason. You’re my happiness, my home. You’re the love of my life."

"What?" you're basically whispering, so quietly you’re sure he wouldn’t have heard you if he didn’t have super hearing.

"I love you too, doll. I love you." he holds your face in his hands "I love you."

You feel like your brain shut down all of a sudden. You barely know how to breathe, let alone talk. All you can do is stare at him, the look he's giving you making you weak in the knees.

"You’re killing me here, doll. For the love of god, say something, angel." The nickname seems to snap you out of it, and there's only one thing in your mind left to ask.

"If you love me, why didn’t you tell me on the roof?" He let out a deep sigh, you can feel his breath on your lips, but you try your hardest to focus on his words and not his lips.

"For one I was still with Sharon. And I didn’t really know what I was feeling. Also, I wasn’t even sure you were serious. Honestly, I was just confused about the whole thing, and still mad about the fight. Nothing good would’ve come from me staying and talking to you that night. I probably would’ve ended up hurting you more." All that makes a lot of sense, sure, but it doesn't change the fact that it hurt.

The look in Bucky’s face at the moment though makes you want to forgive him right this second and let this whole thing go. Pretend like the last month didn’t happen.

So that’s what you do.

"What if…" you start, looking back and forth between his eyes and his lips "what if we forget all of this happened?"

"No." he answered so fast and firmly that it made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and disappointment. "I don’t want to forget anything about us, doll. Good or bad, it’s all worth it, as long as it ends with you in my arms."

You're melting and can't hold yourself back, you grab his face and bring his lips down to yours.

He freezes, probably not expecting it, but when you're about to pull away, he holds your face to keep you there, deepening the kiss.

After a few moments you hear someone clear their throat and almost throw Bucky off of you, looking behind him while he turns to see who it is and you see Steve and Sam standing there, amused looks on their faces.

"We were just talking." You blurted out and Sam cracked and almost doubled over with laughter.

"Really?" Steve said while raising an eyebrow, almost exasperated and knowing damn well what you were doing.

"Sure they were, Steve, she was obviously trying to get the word out of his mouth!" Sam said to the blonde, still laughing his ass off.

"Oh, of course she was. Tell us, sweetheart, what did you find in Bucky’s mouth?" Steve was now laughing too, and you were so embarrassed you hid your face in Bucky’s chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, barely glaring at the two laughing idiots. "Ok, just get out of here, punks." Fortunately for once in their lives they decided to actually listen and left, their laughs echoing through the halls.

"You okay there, doll?" Bucky was now chuckling at your embarrassment.

You raised your head and, meeting his eyes, you said "I can’t believe Captain Dumbass is making fun of us for kissing."

He started laughing and you gladly joined him, looking forward to making up for the time you missed with him, unknowingly promising each other to never let go of the other ever again.

taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @spookyparadisesheep @scott-loki-barnes @pattiemac1 @emerald-writes @sapphirebarnes

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swan-of-sunrise · 6 months

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His Girl Friday

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

Pairings: Tony Stark X F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

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

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

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

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

“Hey beautiful, how ‘bout a dance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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romanoffsbish · 2 months

Text

The Understudy

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

“Natasha x F!R”

Natasha Romanoff x Maria Hill

Warnings: Jealousy | Yandere—Attempted Murder (if you squint) | Mutual Pinning (Simping)

Natasha was a charismatic woman—sure, yet you found yourself enraptured by her gorgeous understudy—Wanda. | WC: 6,945

Request: “anything about jealous top!wanda and just having her way with fem reader sounds good to me” | College AU

I am so sorry it took so long @wandagcre 😩

18+ | Minors DNI

Wanda let a harsh breath leave her as she glared up to see as Natasha circled you like a hawk and if not for the sake of her credibility around campus with the faculty she wouldn't have let the other woman grip you by the hips and pull you in. The both of you wore wide grins as Natasha's nose nudged yours, pushing your face to the side as she gently cupped your cheeks, Wanda was rather close to combusting at the intended next move.

——

“Cut!"

The moment your professor called out the command you separated from your cast mate with a softer smile. Yet Wanda's jealousy didn't simmer, relief far away when the redhead still kept your attention on her.

Natasha pulled you back in, but only for a friendly hug.

"I just wanted to say, thanks for trusting me Y/N/N."

"It's easy to do," you giggled and squeezed her tight, then you parted ways and went to collect your bags.

There was a tension in the air as you prepared to leave that you didn't quite understand, so you sought it out. After glancing around the room for a moment you saw the source—Wanda Maximoff, Natasha's understudy with her eyes angrily cast upon the Russian's face.

She's also the unobtainable woman of your dreams, or so you deemed as you'd yet to approach her with more than a bit of shop talk. Normally the brunette would carry the interaction and nine times out of ten it was perfectly pleasant. However, Wanda always seemed standoffish when you weren't alone, which made you think that maybe she didn't want people to see you two as anything more than potential on stage partners.

Oh what a fool you were, because as you hurriedly waltzed out of the auditorium you avoided her stare that had shifted over to you—a longing glance that lingered long after the large oak doors shut behind you.

——

A week had come and gone, the show was not far off and it was coming together nicely. You and Natasha practiced your lines religiously and kept the bond between you both strong for the sake of chemistry and your overall grade as this show would be your final. In return, a beautiful friendship had been forged and you were more than grateful for the expanded circle.

All that stood in your way was the darn kiss, your heart not only yearned for another, but Natasha's had one which only seemed to make you more nervous.

You'd recently met her girlfriend, Maria Hill, when you went to their dorm to go over the script two weeks ago.

It was a bit intimidating, but when she offered you a chocolate chip cookie and help on your homework you knew she was the perfect partner for your new friend.

Natasha dreamed of making it big, and to do that she'd need a partner who understood that intimate scenes were just a part of the job, not a slight against her.

The woman even gave you her blessing last night with a warm smile, "I trust you." That alone had eased most tension you had left for the show; you were ready.

—

Today was the play's opening day, the set pieces were complete and the scenes ran to perfection. Besides the kiss, the both of you only ever got close to sharing a passionate lip-lock for the sake of show business. It was however not too necessary until today to share it.

When you walked onto stage you skipped over to the redhead who was casually reading out of a textbook.

"Hey Tasha," you greeted, the redhead peered up as she mindlessly closed the book to see your smile. It was adorable how nervous you were honestly, the kiss was only a blip in the play—lasting less than ten seconds.

This is a PG-13 university production after all.

"Hey honey," she greeted, tone sweet as can be in an attempt to ease your tense shoulders and it worked.

For the most part anyways. "A-are you ready?"

Natasha smiled, "I am," then sighed, "but, are you?"

You nodded unconvincingly and she stood to her feet so that she could approach you, her hand cupped your cheek as she stared into your eyes. "Follow my lead."

A nervous smile was all you offered the woman who moved in even closer, her warm breath on your cheek felt rather comforting. "We don't even have to kiss, all we have to do is make the audience believe it happens."

"I don't want to disappoint people," you muttered with a nervous conviction and the redhead chuckled softly. "No one will leave knowing, I'm an amazing actress."

You giggled and Natasha beamed knowing that she'd at least calmed a bit of your nerves. To the both of you it was obvious that her touch was meant to make you ease into the concept of the intimacy, but to onlookers it would almost present as an act of personal affection.

The redhead waited for you to make a move, but it was not something you had time for as you quickly realized that the prop above your heads was teetering in the air.

Wanda had been stood behind the red draped curtain fuming, her hand reflexively wrapped around the string that suspended the hefty prop above Nat's head. There was no conscious intent when she yanked down, it was purely reflexive as she watched you two practice.

It was all you could do to yank the woman out of the line of impact before the piece shattered on the stage.

"Holy shit Nat," you squealed, "that was a close call!"

"Yeah," the redhead hardly acknowledged you, eyes too focused in on the blur of familiar black and red hues weaving between the curtains. "Are you okay Nat?"

No, she most definitely was not, but she'd pretend.

The redhead internally rolled her eyes, but pressed on as if the freak accident wasn't premeditated. To your face at least, because not even ten minutes later—after she convinced you all was well did she go find the perp.

"Maximoff," she growled as she found the woman in her usual spot, "I am not an oblivious idiot like Y/N."

Natasha cringed at her own words, it wasn't right to diss you but to be fair, she just nearly lost her head.

"I haven't a clue what you are going on about," she chirped bitterly, not even remotely covering her big feelings. "How unkind you are to poor Y/N though."

"Y/N and I have a fine working relationship," she immediately set the woman straight, "She's a sweet person and if you stopped being so broody maybe you could be the one she hangs out with after practices."

"I'm just the understudy," she reminded Natasha, who rolled her eyes in frustration at her petty behavior.

"You need to let it go Wanda," she groaned, "I am the theater major, you are only taking this for an elective."

Wanda stood and whisper shouted, "I want it more!"

"No," Natasha corrected as she stepped to her, a clear sign she wasn't afraid of the brunette with the raging anger problems. "You want Y/N more, which is 100% by the way because all she is to me is a friend!"

"I see the way you look at her," Wanda sneered.

"That's because it is my job, Wanda," Natasha scoffed in genuine offense before adding, "I have Maria."

Wanda glared inquisitively, "Who the hell is Maria?"

"My girlfriend since freshman year of high school."

"Oh."

Natasha chuckled agitatedly, "Yeah, so if you could refrain from trying to kill me again I'd appreciate it very much. I've planned to live a long life with her."

"I," Wanda was honestly stunned into silence. "It was an accident—but originally, I wasn't really sorry."

"At least you're honest," Natasha chuckled amusedly. "Don't confuse this moment Maximoff," the redhead continued, "I might not be a threat but you know as well as I do that Y/N is a catch—don't drag your feet."

"I know, but I can't talk to her about anything other than this stupid class," Wanda admitted in lieu of her masked pride faltering. "She's just so pretty, and soft, it's like I lose the ability to form thoughts around her."

"Pretty things are meant to be taken and cherished," the Russian teased, smile fond as she remembered what it's like to fall in love for the first time; Natasha wanted that for you too. "Trust me Wanda, Y/N is easy to talk to and I hypothesize she would be thrilled if you did, maybe try your luck tonight at the after party."

Natasha playfully acted out taking a shot as she winked at the up until now, sapphic disaster, then she swiftly left the room to let her ponder. When she returned to the stage she found you yelling at the stagehands. She shook her head in amusement then made her way over to save the poor students from your misguided wrath...

—

When you calmed down you found yourself hidden away in your dressing room staring at your reflection. There was this unspoken tension in the air once again and it made you feel queasy. It was hard for you to tell if it was first night jitters or something else entirely.

Deep down you knew it was an unwarranted sadness, one that you associated with the fact that the course would be over after this weekends line up of shows and you'd yet to find the courage to truly speak to Wanda.

"Hey, did you understand the acting prompt," and "That was a weird film to show a class full of women," were not effective ways to speak with your crush.

You knew that, but every time you built up the courage to ask her if she wanted to hang out you remembered the way she looked at you whenever you were around others. A loud sigh left you at the painful reminder that nearly made you miss the faint knock at your door.

"Come in," you meekly called out as you stood up to face whomever it was. Wanda quietly closed your door and walked into the room with a forced confidence.

"Oh, hey Wanda," you chuckled nervously, "Is Nat ok?"

You weren't sure why you asked that in greeting, but it's also not rocket science since she's her understudy. The question wasn't meant to offend either but it did as Wanda considered the possibility that she didn't have a chance with you, but then you gave her a soft smile and she remembered why she was here in the first place.

"She's fine," she politely replied, then she took a step closer and wordlessly returned your smile. You tilted your head slightly and she understood. "I just wanted to come by and wish you luck, though we both know you aren't going to need it. You're a rockstar onstage."

Wanda found amusement in the way your eyes avoided looking into her own momentarily. Once you finally found the courage to look into hers your smile had softened, which had the same effect on her heart.

"Th-thanks Wanda," you stuttered and so she got the confirmation that Natasha basically gave her earlier without exactly saying it. You liked her just the same, something she caught as your eyes fell to her lips, it was brief but obvious enough to fill her with glee.

The woman giggled and leaned forward to place a seemingly friendly kiss, to you, on your cheek. "Break a leg out there sweetheart, I'll see you later at the party."

As soon as she left the room you fell back into your chair with a wide grin and giggled, a hand on the cheek where you could still feel a damp warmth from her lips.

The nerves in your body had all but vanished, so when you were called to the stage an hour later you strutted onto the platform with confidence and it showed in the way you acted every scene to perfection. Even the kiss.

Natasha and you shared a sweet kiss, one that you let her lead as she had the natural acting chops. It was honestly terrible since all you could imagine as her lips moved against yours was what Wanda's would be like.

Your friend's lips tasted like cherry chapstick with faint hints of nicotine that you planned to admonish her for later on after the show. There was perceivable heat to it but the truth was it was void of any genuine passion.

When the two of you parted there was a sweet smile on your lips to mirror the sentiment of your characters, and it only grew wider when you saw Wanda watching. There was something special about the way she looked at you, with a tight smile but a warmth still remained.

For the first time this whole semester you felt hopeful.

—

At the party you were the focus of everyone's attention, loud cheers and genuine accolades met you at every corner in partner with Natasha's. The redhead took it all with a wide smile and thanks, but you however did not have the courage to be so proud. Your friend did her best to take the attention, seeing you look so shy.

When the chance to break away presented itself you took it, heading to the kitchen where you found an array of substances. Just as you reached out for a packed joint you felt a large, soft hand on yours.

"Oh," you chuckled awkwardly, "you can have it."

"We could share," a raspy voice proposed, her hand fell to your hip without request and you slightly stiffened. "You were amazing tonight Y/N, so let's celebrate."

The woman's words made you feel unhappily queasy. "I-I, um," you began to stutter, unsure how to tell this stranger that you wanted to celebrate with another.

"My room is upstairs," she cluelessly teased, as if your stance alone wasn't uncomfortable. "Move on Santos."

Wanda internally beamed when she saw you turn to her with a beyond grateful gaze, the shift breaking you free from the strangers hold and subconsciously closer to her. The horny blonde however wasn't open to being cockblocked so she turned as well and moved closer until their chests brushed. "Last I checked I don't take orders from you, Maxipad, so how about you move on."

Wanda's head tilted dangerously and you felt a flutter of joy in your chest, as well as desire between your legs. The woman caught sight of your thighs clamping and smirked triumphantly, "How about we ask Y/N?"

Your eyes widened, but your lips obediently opened as Wanda seemed to not shy away from you in public.

"What's your name?" The blonde deflated, "Raya."

"It's nice to meet you Raya," you lied with a friendly smile, "But I promised to meet Wanda at the party."

"Well, you heard her," Wanda boasted, her hand reached out and took the blunt from your fingers and smugly handed it over to the blonde in obvious pity.

The moment Raya departed you felt a ringed hand in yours, and you latched on eagerly, letting her guide you through the crowd and up the stairs to an empty room.

As if the universe deemed your dreams worth reality you felt her hands grip your hips and lips catch yours. Wanda decided since talking wasn't her strong suit that she'd start by giving into her urges first. The moment was nothing but carnal, her bare knee slid between your thighs and pressed against your core.

With elegance in her every movement she guided you over to the bed and pressed into you deeper, your thinly veiled pussy rubbed against her skin and you mewled so harshly your swollen lips had to separate.

"Wan-," the redhead shushed you with a gentle peck of her lips that reassured your nervous heart. Alongside her eyes that were full of a warmth that told you this wasn't going to be a once off itch to scratch. "Mommy needs you to stop thinking detka, let me help you."

Amusement tickled in Wanda's throat at the pliant nod you gave, adoration in her heart as your eyes glazed over and body melted further into the mattress. The glare in her eyes reminded you to speak, "please."

The permission left your lips in a breathless whine and so the redheads hands slid beneath your dress that she apparently already bunched at your hips, the cold of her fingers as they tauntingly trailed over your skin made you gasp. "I've been waiting for you to say it," she interrupted your moment of shock with words that brought an adorable pout to your lips. Wanda chuckled as she watched the curiosity fade beneath the surface of your lust as her thumbs brushed over your nipples.

It was embarrassing the way she reduced you into a wordless mess, her knee a contributing factor until she abruptly pulled it away. Viridescent eyes that were reminiscent of obsidian stones, in their active state of lust, stared down at you with a warning not to whine. Wanda beamed at your understanding and rewarded you with her lips back on yours for a fleeting moment.

A sloppy kiss to your jaw, hands roaming over your body, a goddess straddling your waist in a skirt that was much too short for her intentions for tonight to have been anything but what it already was; sinful.

You were somehow expected to remain cognizant, it was a ludicrous notion, so you didn't, all you could do was move just as she asked of you until you were moaning beneath her as her core brushed over yours.

The motion was repeated, a shiver ran down your spine at the sound of her pleasure that loudly followed up yours, it was a sound you never wanted to lose. Her movements picked up, a bare pussy against a covered one and you wanted to scream at the unfair advantage she had over you as her moans overshadowed yours.

Wanda admired your innate understanding to not touch without permission, the way you kept your fidgeting hands at the top of the mattress made her decide to reward you with even more stimulation. Especially since it was mostly her feeling pleasure as she'd yet to remove an article of clothing from you. So in a blur of erratic movements you found yourself in a more exposed state, cold air brushed over your sweaty body as your dress was haphazardly tossed aside. "Oh," Wanda hummed, "so much prettier than I dreamed."

Dreamed. The erratic beating of your heart against your ribcage actually lessened as you heard her admit to having thought about you like this before, her words from before began to make sense now too. Suddenly you were closer to the edge, a bright smile adorned your face fleetingly as you felt the delicious coiling of pleasure in your abdomen. Only to be made better as Wanda's plump lips wrapped around your nipple.

A loud cry left you when the fabric of your panties delicately stimulated your clit, "mommy please." The honorific left your lips easily, it clearly wasn't a trained response to her prior claim to it, but a natural reaction. Wanda bit into the plush flesh of your breast, arousal clear as you felt it seeping into your drenched panties.

Wanda rasped, "Wanna cum with mommy?" The smirk she wore went unnoticed by you, with the crossed eyes and agape mouth that muttered out a strangled, 'yes' as she peered up from your heaving chest. If she was possessive before it wasn't noticeable to you, but all the little moments—like the glares she sent Nat's way, now made sense as she spoke. "Tell me who you belong to," she requested this with a bite to her tone that matched the darkness in her eyes. Her teeth scraped up from the sensitive skin between your breasts to your throat.

There was no hesitation in you to reply, "mommy."

Wanda sped up her hips and started to suck harshly on nearly every inch of skin she could, intent obvious as she set out to prove your words correct. "Let go detka," she purred before her teeth sunk into your shoulder, her determined hips stuttered, the both of you writhed in tandem and the brunette pressed into you harder.

While you gasped for air the Sokovian smiled, her own breathing labored but not nearly as bad as yours. A sense of accomplishment washed over her, remaining for a sweet moment before she craved more of you. You blearily whimpered at the insinuation of her lips as they moved down your tense body, harsh love bites and soft kisses left behind—usually one after the other.

Her ministrations more than enough to have you squirming in anticipation for what you hoped was coming next. Wanda's lips pressed to your hips, then upturned cockily as they impatiently bucked of their own volition, her teeth once again scraped over your soft skin, this time over your pelvis before they had a hold of your panties so she could slowly pull them off.

Wanda was about half way down your legs before she just couldn't hold herself back anymore, the smell of you was far too enticing, so she stopped abruptly and rushed upwards with her tongue out. A lewd moan left your lips as she hummed in satisfaction, tongue vicious as it continued to lick at your sensitive, swollen pussy.

For a brief second you could only feel the warmth of her breath as she pulled away just to really breathe you in, her nose affectionately nuzzled against your clit as she inhaled and kissed your sloppy folds that tingled with need. "Oh my," she chuckled, "you're too divine."

Wanda was impossibly lost in you, initially she was going to tease you further, but then she couldn't stop. Her tongue was a beast as it lavished your intimacy just to prolong the taste of your essence on her buds. The way your slick settled against her plumped upper lip was a comforting promise that you'd linger on her face in the morning. Wanda felt like a fucking pervert with the way her mind ran wild with depraved things that would surely require a deeper conversation first.

If you'd let her, she would devour you whole, much like she was doing now. You felt like she'd split you open, her thumbs dug into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks to spread your pussy just a little bit wider and a hum of appreciation followed as you dripped down her chin.

There was no stop to her madness until you broke the silent rule, allowing your hand to drop down and slip between the messy strands of her hair. It was instinct, and so it wasn't admonished right away, the woman actually loved the way that you both pushed her away and pulled her even closer when she pulled your clit between her lips as two fingers entered you and curled.

The sound of you spilling out and onto some random persons sheets caught your attention just as it did hers. Wanda marveled at the sight of your aromatic arousal that coated her fingers, palm, and dripped from her wrist, meanwhile you were shyly covering your face.

Wanda chuckled, "look at mommy detka, it's okay," her fingers gently tugged at your wrists and you peered up to find her slick, grinning face hovering above yours. "These are my sheets," the brunette added, then she chuckled as your eyes widened comically, you didn't know how she knew but you didn't care much as you had other things on your mind, like the sex you desperately wanted more of and, "you're in a sorority?"

The woman took no offense to the question, the bias of pink wearing, former cheerleading stars being the only ones to join the rush life was common. Most of the girls in the sisterhood she claimed didn't exactly look like Wanda, with her dark makeup, edgy clothes and lower arm sleeve tats, she couldn't really question the shock.

The conversation however was boring, the reason why being that her mom wanted her daughter to follow in her Delta footsteps and so the brunette did, because her parents sacrificed a lot to come here as teens. It was the least she could do, and even less interesting for her to reminisce over so she simply brushed by it as her fingers distracted you by collecting your slick.

"Such a loud, pretty thing you are," she teased as you gasped, her lithe fingers having swirled over your clit before they lifted to her already glistening lips, "I bet I'll have you moaning even louder, like a bitch in heat, with my cock pounding into your tight, needy hole."

Wanda admired the lust fueled darkness that swirled in your otherwise soft eyes. "Would you want that?"

"Of course," you blurted without shame, a smile of reassurance offered that led her right off of the bed.

When the brunette returned from her closet she was surprised to see you sat up, patiently waiting and keeping an eye out for her return. No words were spoken as you saw her skirt fall, eyes completely focused in on her glistening pussy that dripped slick down her gorgeous, muscular thighs. A chuckle pulled you from your thoughts, you slowly lifted your gaze and eyed your almost screen partner with a pout.

"If you're good," she began as she made her way to the foot of the bed, making a show as her voice dropped and her body slowly crawled toward you, "I'll let you get a taste." Wanda adored the way your eyes lit up, but she couldn't help but to tease you as her body pressed into yours. "Well, unless I fuck you too dumb."

"I w-want to," you admitted shyly, "to t-taste you."

"I know," she didn't spare you the embarrassment whatsoever as her thumb brushed over your chin, spreading the drool that was drying. "It's on your face."

The wink that followed made you tremble beneath her in a perfect display of desperation, just as she wanted. A devious smirk followed the pop of her thumb as she released it from her mouth; ironically your mouth ran dry. Wanda was about to ruin you in the best ways.

However, everything had happened so quickly up to now that she felt the urge to slowdown, in need of clarity, "Is this what you want? If I fill you with my cock that means you're mine now Y/N. Mine to fuck, cherish and if you'll let me, to fully fall in love with."

Unbridled lust still coursed through both of your veins, it was clear you wanted her to get moving by the way your hips twitched, but the soft tremble of your lip softened her into kissing you gently to ease the stress. Wanda saw the questions in your mind, and she'd answer them all, but for now she'd fuck them quiet.

Wanda had bought this strap just for you, actually. It was crimson red like her signature lipstick, thick like you'd never seen, and had a cum reservoir that she knew you'd love even if she'd never had the chance to ask you beforehand. The brunette could tell just by looking at you that you'd be a slut for a good filling.

"So," she prompted once she decided to spare your lungs from the fire burning inside. You nodded your head aggressively, words hard but doable when she pursed her lips; waiting. "Please, fuck me mommy."

"Gladly," she purred, rubbing the length of her strap against your slit to collect arousal as she peered into your eyes with a determined, possessive expression. Your hands reflexively curled and you felt emboldened the longer you held her gaze with an attempt to match the intensity of her, but you were once again nervous.

"C-can I touch?" Wanda nodded, offering you an encouraging smile as you timidly reached out to feel her up over her shirt, the tips of your fingers brushed over exposed skin and you appreciated how soft it was. Then you grew confident, fingers fisted at the collar of her shirt and tugged. "mommy, please take it off."

"I see even when impatient that my girl has manners," she chuckled softly at the sight of your beaming eyes, then she tossed her shirt across the room and leaned down to passionately press her lips to yours. Her body firmly pressed into yours, the brunette swallowed your mewl as her strap slipped into your hole just to parrot you as your once timid hands firmly groped her chest.

Once she got a grip of her thoughts she chuckled softly, sending a shiver through you as her lips had begun to trail down your jaw. "You like mommy's tits, hm?"

"I love them," you admitted with pure, genuine intent, hands continuing to knead at the flesh to distract yourself from the burning pain as she harshly worked to mark your skin in a slow, determined fashion. Then you continued softly, "I love everything about you," and she melted into the moment more, the teasing she had planned for you came to a stop as she filled you.

Wanda's hands slid beneath your arched back and pulled your front flush to hers, keeping your body as close to hers as she could while shallowly thrusting into your slippery cunt between your ragged breaths. Her lips gently brushed over the skin beneath your ear and she felt the way your body trembled, and reveled in the way you moaned so breathily when she sucked.

"You took me in so well," she purred, aware as your spine began to curve downward that the pleasure had simmered some, so she settled you back down and let her strap naturally slide from your cunt, leaving only the tip as she gazed into your needy eyes. Then her hips snapped and she grunted, "just like I thought."

No reply fell from your lips, at least not in the form of words as she'd set a ruthless pace that only left space for you to moan mindlessly as she harshly rutted her hips into yours. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body, ending with your eyes as a harsh thumb swirled against your clit, her other hand gripped your hip even harder as your bodies sinfully moved in tandem. The chemistry was palpable in the air that reeked of sex and stale smoke that seeped beneath the dorm door.

Which only made it that much harder to breathe as you gasped so pitifully for air, the sensation overwhelmed you into a place of pleasurable uncertainty. The strap was a completely new experience for you, every toy you'd ever used was sleek but this one was outlined in thick, hyperrealistic veins that dug into your walls.

"Oh," a particularly harsh thrust and you were back to arching your back, and crying out, "feels so good." Your sweaty front briefly brushed against hers before your back returned to the mattress where its sole role was to move against the sheets as Wanda rutted harshly.

"You close honey?" Wanda knew already, she could feel the resistance as your walls squeezed around the toy, and even attempted to push it back out. What she truly wanted was to see where you were at mentally. You nodded weakly, mind too foggy to reply and she felt elated by your state. "Mommy is too, cum with me."

The rapid addition of her calloused thumb against your unhooded clit threw you over the edge alongside the brunette who had the gruff hilt to thank for hers. To watch your eyes grow hazier as they crossed once you got lost in pleasure stimulated her own climax too. Just hearing you moan had her teetering on the edge; Wanda was certain she didn't even need the friction...

Wanda began to lay gentle kisses to your warm skin as her thrusts continued, this time so slow you could feel every ridge dragging and subsequently shivered. You whimpered, "no more," hands weak, albeit firm as they pressed into the brunette who chuckled softly, "come on detka, you can do it, just one more for mommy."

"One," you warily agreed, and the brunette beamed, she paused her hips just to sprinkle some kisses onto your face in thanks. Her heart warmed as you giggled and her lips shifted closer to yours, eyes locked now that she was hovering directly. You both felt as your walls trembled around her strap, she smirked as your eyes closed in an attempt to calm your mind down.

"Open," she commanded and you reluctantly did, lips naturally pouting as you were forced to look into her intense eyes full of a love you saw already existed well before you two gave into this steadily building tension. It was a bit disconcerting but in a self-deprecating way, not in a grab your belongings and flee the state kind.

It was surely curious, but truthfully it was too hard to process much of anything with how her hips shallowly moved, they picked up the pace ever so slightly but Wanda wanted this orgasm to be more intimate, she wanted to foster in you the connection she's found.

Her intense gaze never wavered, and you never closed your eyes—maintaining the connection even if it felt like you were going to combust under it. Wanda's lips were parted in a half smirk as she took note of every little change in your reaction to the slowed down pace.

Before, you were moaning unabashedly and now you were panting and whimpering. The fingers that just left crescent marks in her shoulders and drew angry lines down her back now gripped onto the sheets for dear life because this pleasure was simply unlike before. Something about the connection blooming right before your very eyes was exhilarating; it was comforting.

"Mommy," you whined and stared up intently, eyes brimming with tears as you felt overwhelmed by it all.

"Yes, love?"

"C-can I?" Wanda nodded, accompanied by a sweet smile that crinkled the skin of her nose and eyes, it was genuine, intimate, and the reason why you squirted.

Well, that and the surprise of being filled as Wanda had squeezed the cum pump without any warning.

Wanda felt the same need you just satisfied burning deep within her as your body contorted and a shriek of unnerving pleasure left your lips. Rutting into you didn’t provide the same pleasure it did beforehand now that your walls were slick but too tight to fight against.

In a craze she pulled out and tossed the strap away, her thighs corralled yours and tensed as two of her fingers worked her over fast. You gazed up just in time to see her face wash over with pleasure, there was a look of betrayal on your face that amused the brunette. Her fingers left her core and slipped passed your lips before you could protest that your job was stolen from you.

“I said you could taste, just not how,” she reminded you, and you didn’t even feel a need to protest. Far too busy sucking her fingers clean and feeling the spark of a forming addiction—you needed to taste the source.

However, you were too tired tonight and Wanda saw that as she gazed down into your glistening eyes. It was better that way too as Wanda’s cunt continued to drip.

"Twice," Wanda teased as your slick too dripped down her legs, “you are filthy; squirting on mommy’s bed.”

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled but she wasn’t sure you even knew what you were saying as your eyelids fluttered.

While you slipped in and out of sleep Wanda began to get a bath set up for you both, in one of the only en-suite’s this house has—perks of the house mom being your real mom’s best friend. Your soft snores amused her as they traveled through the crack in the door, into a steamy room decorated with rose petals and flames.

Truthfully, beneath the deceiving layers of grunge she wore with a resting scowl was a woman who genuinely believed in the sappy love stories that Hollywood sells. Wanda wasn’t a one trick pony, she heavily negated the societal need to keep interests separate. In public she kept her image intimidating, unintentionally she did it with you too, but now she’s ready for you to see all of her and with that you deserved her sappy humanity.

Wanda returned to the room once she deemed the tub was ready for you both, but she paused—allowing more steam to fill the space you’d soon occupy, just so she could admire your nude form beneath the moonlight. A smile bloomed as she caught sight of the marks she left behind, some too deep and noticeable for you to hide.

The woman felt prideful as she approached, but her resolve softened the closer she got as you looked so peaceful surrounded by her stained, mussed bedsheets. Currently, all she truly wanted was to hold you close.

You woke up with the gentle jolt of your body, made as Wanda lifted you up and into her chest, not forgoing a kiss to your temple that made you melt into her. A whine of protest followed seconds later as she placed you right onto the cooled toilet. In contrast, your body naturally reacted as it too sought relief, filling the toilet with the remnants of your passionate night together.

Wanda had slipped away again, but you were too tired to note her initial absence. When she returned, fresh pajamas in hand, you whined angrily. It was adorable, the way you reached for her and glared, as if she’d abandoned you, your intimidation tactic failed.

Wanda softly spoke, “Are you ready to bathe love?”

You shook your head and frowned, a bit embarrassed to ask for help but fortunately Wanda was in tune with you as she reached for the toilet paper and wiped. It was quick and she got you into the warm tub before you could overthink the moment. Successfully too as you melted into her front as the warmth soothed your aching muscles and fogged your mind up with peace.

There was no rush to her movements as she cleaned the both of you—if either of you had plans tomorrow it was fair to assume them canceled now. Wanda wasn’t ready to part ways and she knew you would likely be in the same state—if not more so after tonight’s drop.

Once the water began to chill, effectively making you shiver, she got you awake and out of the tub quickly. Wanda adored the way you clung to her, only parting when she persisted so she could get you two dressed.

“Brush your teeth,” she gently commanded, then with you distracted she returned to her room to place the freshly laundered sheets onto her mattress. Then she slid into a harness that made your eyes widen as you rushed out of the bathroom to find her. The muddled space you were in faded as you were unsure of her intentions, you even took a conscious step back once she began to approach but you quickly met the wall.

“Don’t be afraid,” she teased you—with the wide eyes and hesitant smile. “I was gonna ask, do you think it would be okay if mommy slept with her cock in you?”

Wanda’s arm was quick to wrap around your waist, holding you up as your knees proved useless, you felt her nose nudge into your jaw as her lips left warm kisses over the marks you’d yet to see on your neck. Even with as sensitive as you knew your pussy to be you gave in without any fight at all as you pleaded.

With a gentle hand Wanda slid the strap against your pussy until enough lubrication had manifested. Then she settled onto her mattress before guiding you over and slowly inserting herself back into you until there was no space left to fill. You pressed your lips to hers desperately, looking for a bit of comfort as you adjusted. A slow, passionate lip lock ensued until you felt the pain subside and the exhaustion return.

The Sokovian eased onto her back, gentle as she pulled your body down with hers to keep you comfortable. A blanket soon covered you both and you smiled as you tiredly remembered the night’s events—her intense eye contact that should’ve terrified you but it truly didn’t.

"I can't wait to fall in love with you," you admitted against her chest in your state of post-sex delirium and it brought a smile to the perceivably tough woman. It was too early, Wanda knew that, but the brunette had loved you for ages and now she is patiently waiting for you to return the sentiment. "ya uzhe lyublyu tebya."

(I already love you)

————

Bonus:

"Oh no," Natasha mumbled to her girlfriend, eyes catching sight of the random blonde that corralled you against the table. "Poor girl, she's not going to survive."

Maria humored her girlfriend by gazing up just in time to see a fuming Wanda storming over to you both.

"Which one?" Natasha chuckled and pecked her lovers lips, "both—but one will for sure be more pleasurable."

"You're a menace." Natasha smirked, "Oh, I know..."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x maria hill #blackhill #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader

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softpascalito · 3 days

Text

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’ - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy.

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods.

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.”

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless.

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always.

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson.

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.”

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly.

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?”

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?”

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3

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ataraxiaspainting · 5 months

Text

Cupid.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: No matter how much soap is used up, even when the bars are all dissolved in the bathwater and the bottles are empty, you know that from now on all you will be is dirty. You will never be clean again. Never.

Warnings: Yandere themes, heavily implied non-con, past violence, manipulation, and kidnapping.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Memoir #02 [06.12.09] by Maria Pseftoga (feat. May Roosevelt)

I Can’t Handle Change by Roar

A Burning Hill by Mitski

No Surprises by Radiohead

A Pearl by Mitski

Liquid Smooth by Mitski

Six Forty Seven by Instupendo

I Love You Like An Alcoholic by The Taxpayers

Bumblebees Are Out by Jack Stauber’s Micropop

Bathtub by The Front Bottoms

"Now the time has come. I put two bullets in my gun. One for me, and one for you. Oh darling, it will be so beautiful." – Misery (1990)

*~*~*~*

The steam rising feels so thick it nearly suffocates you. That does not stop you from burying yourself further into the water, up to your nose and nearly filling up your ears. No, if anything, the steam makes you want to drown in it so much more. You contemplate putting your entire head under, screaming into the water until no bubbles rise to the surface.

But the demon wearing pale human skin would stop you before your escape attempt is successful. That is what he always does, after all.

Your white wool towel and his gray one is placed on the same rack, on your side. On one of the hooks behind the door are your pajamas, the color of strawberry taffy, and small buttercups on both the top and lower parts of the set. There are twenty-two on the shirt and nineteen on the pants. You know this because you have counted them many, many times before, the first-time being weeks if not months ago, when you thought the worst thing Chrollo could do to you is slap you or ignore you if you ever hit him. If you ever succeeded in that department, with his lightning-fast reflexes. You can only remember being that fortunate enough maybe… a maximum of four times, you think, before you stopped, after your initial fears of him killing you were brushed off, and after your survival instincts adapted to fit this particular situation.

Rebelling by fighting him is not going to help. You know that it is something ingrained in every human, getting physical in the face of a threat, whether it be a real one or not. However, upon your initial confinement in this place, your primal instinct also urged you to escape. You constantly remind yourself that this is impossible due to the numerous locks on the door and Chrollo's ability to summon a seemingly omnipotent book out of thin air. You are unable to flee, thus your survival instinct must adjust to an alternative strategy. Nevertheless, it fails to do so, prompting you to ultimately confront different adversaries altogether; Chrollo's caresses, presents, and offerings of quality time.

But now seeing where that got you now, you regret not attempting to jump out of his car and run for the hills, not caring if he was behind you or not.

“...” You are silent as you push back further and further until the crown of your head feels the porcelain wall. “...”

Chrollo, in turn at your silence, simply puts some water into his cupped hand, letting his thumb play around in it for a little while before releasing it back from whence it came. “Now, what did we learn today? You don’t plan to be silent the rest of the night, do you dearest?”

You're uncertain about your plans, but one thing you do know is that drowning him in the bathtub is not one of them. Despite your desire to do so, you acknowledge that you wouldn't come out victorious. Presently, you feel apprehensive about what lies ahead. If this isn't the absolute depths to which Chrollo would sink, then what could be?

“...” Your mind wanders at a languid pace, not in a slithering manner, but rather with a slow crawl. It looms menacingly, poised to devour you entirely, leaving you voiceless. To prevent its dreadful consumption, you divert your attention to the objects surrounding you, to anything but the one who holds you captive.

“...If you don’t want to chat now, that is fine,” This time, Chrollo scoops water into his palms and gently pours it over his hair. “You can always do so when we get out.”

The water is still clear, so clear that you can still see the bottom of the bathtub. The salts he put were lavender scented, you think, because something floral is in the steam and the small bits of water that make their way into your nostrils and mouth. There is lemon balm, peppermint, and rose petals floating about too, but one or two of them have clung to your body like seaweed you would accidentally walk near when you went into the ocean’s tides, causing you to squirm to get them off. Chrollo most likely finds this amusing, because he does not think much else of you, does he?

“...” There are seventy-three tiles in all on the bathroom floor that are in plain view, not counting the ones underneath the rugs, the bathtub, cleaning supplies, shelving, and the toilet. “...”

You could recount them again instead of putting water over your head too. “Do you want to do anything related to aftercare aside from this?”

“...” Rather than uttering a word, you choose to count the uncovered tiles on the bathroom floor. “...”

The occurrence can be summed up by a single word: dissociation. To shield you, your mind disentangled the emotional pains from the physical ones, rendering you void of sensation, numb. This was done to prevent you from comprehending the true nature of what transpired, what just happened, when his patience snapped and he tied you to the bed by the wrists, ripping and ripping until–

“...”

You and the devil are side by side.

“There is no need to repeat what happened today, correct? Then everything will go back to normal. Just hope for your well-being that you remember this.”

“...I will. I will.” The sound of your voice brings a smile to his face, and he cups a handful of water in his palms.

The liquid flows down from your hair, mimicking a gentle rainfall, only to rebound and retreat to its origin. This rhythmic cycle persists, until unexpectedly, your body surrenders to a state of tranquility, defying the will of your mind. Your head tilts backward, and for a fleeting moment, you feel weightless, as if hovering above the water's surface.

Your mind will now be cleansed of the undesirable side of Chrollo, hopefully ensuring that you never have to witness it again.

#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer

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stxrvel · 4 months

Text

i don't wanna live forever (4)

summary: with the winter soldier in action, you couldn't believe who the person behind the mask was

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!f!reader

words: 5k

warnings: descriptions of weapons, wounds and blood. i'm not that good narrating action scenes but i tried my best! a russian word poorly translated i'm sorry if it's wrong :(, also English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

note: so we are finally here. the secret's out. i'm just figuring by now that this fic is probably gonna take longer than i expected, but i hope it'll turn out as we all want it! thank u as always for all the support and see u next time! if you guys ever have any questions or request feel free to dm me!

part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3 ; part 5

Another two weeks went by and the wound was practically healed. It was uncomfortable to touch, and you could feel a little pressure inside from the contact with the vibranium. But other than that, you were able to live a normal life.

Fury had informed you in a phone call that you would be on your way back to Washington that day. The agents had no news about the soldier, neither about the places you had visited, nor about the purchase of vibranium in the vicinity of Siberia. With the strong possibility of an assassin on your trail, you were back to square one.

Steve had returned three days earlier, having gone on a mission with Natasha Romanoff, and Fury had left the Helicarrier the day after Steve left, assuring you that he would arrange for you to return to the mainland once the doctors had cleared you.

Of course, you hadn't reckoned on the fact that on your arrival at your apartment, just across from Steve's, everything would be a mess.

Your friend hasn't answered your phone calls, despite your insistence for about twenty minutes, nor has he answered your constant knocking on his apartment door. His inability to reach you puzzled you. The last message you received from him was that he would be waiting for your message to pick you up, which never happened, even though you called him for an hour.

Worried, especially when Nicholas didn't answer your calls either, you found yourself on your way to the Triskelion looking for answers when the burner phone you always carried in your jacket or one of your pockets rang as you were about to walk out of the building.

“Hill,” you answered immediately, relieved that someone was finally trying to get in touch with you.

“Act natural. I want you to leave the building and go to the black van on the left corner. Get in the passenger seat.”

You obeyed, the strange absence of Steve and Fury making more sense in the light of the events of the last few weeks. It had to be him.

You quickly spotted Hill's van and walked towards it, shielding your eyes from the sun with one hand, not bothering to look elsewhere. You got into the car in silence, Hill started the engine and drove down the avenue in silence.

“What's going on?” you asked after several minutes of tense silence.

You noticed Maria's disgruntled face, something that is not usually very clear unless the situation they are in is insurmountable.

“Is it him?” you spoke again at her silence, a layer of cold sweat settling on your hands as you saw her pursing her lips.

“Yes,” Maria nodded, never taking her eyes off the rearview mirror. “He's here.”

“Where's Steve?” your voice almost came out on a thread, fearing the answer was worse than imagined possible. You knew this was coming, but so soon? You felt nauseous at the thought of meeting him once again.

“He escaped with Romanoff,” Maria took a turn, accelerating the car's speed. “They're fine.”

“And Fury?”

“The soldier tried to kill him. Twice.”

You let out a choked exclamation, covering your mouth with both your hands in surprise.

“He's alive,” Hill tried to calm you, when you felt like your heart was going to jump out of your throat. You tried to feel the relief her words brought, but the choking sensation kept growing as the seconds passed. “Steve and Natasha don't know, though. We have to let them think Fury is dead, only then can we get some leverage.”

“God, all this happened in two days?”

“And whatever else is coming. We don't know where he's at or who he's moving near,” Maria shook her head, realizing just barely that you'd left a bit of the suburbs behind. “Fury wants you here.”

A sort of abandoned dam gaped through the trees. Hill pulled the car to the left, hiding it between long logs and bushes.

“What's this supposed to be?”

“You can call it another secret section of SHIELD... or Fury's,” Maria closed the trunk of the car, where she'd been rummaging through something as you climbed down, handing you a bulletproof vest that you didn't hesitate a second to adjust around your torso. “How's the wound?”

“It only hurts to the touch. But I can move fine.”

“Who knew the Supersoldier's weakness would be vibranium.”

Maria opened an unlocked metal fence, mentally wondering if this was really such a safe place to have no security of any kind. A long hallway stretched out in front of you, which felt eternal under the yellow lights, until you turned at the bottom right and there he was. Nicholas Fury.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Whatever you did to the soldier, I already made it worse,” Fury coughed, the slight movement of his body causing him to grimace in poorly disguised pain. “Now he's looking to kill us all.”

“And what did you do?”

“Alexander Pierce,” was all he answered, sharing a look with Hill that you didn't know how to decipher.

“The... secretary?”

“Remember Peggy's theory that we could never prove?”

Fury spoke again, your attention completely directed at him. Of course you remembered that. And of course you remembered the way you had flatly denied that possibility out of fear of what that would mean for your friends' legacy. To Steve's legacy. To Bucky's legacy.

There was no need to elaborate, with one look from the Director you knew exactly what he meant.

“Alexander Pierce tried to kill you?”

“It's him, Y/N. The Winter Soldier was the one who killed Howard and Maria Stark in order to get the serum to HYDRA, to create more supersoldiers.”

“We're infiltrated by double agents, that's why it was always so hard to uncover them,” Maria continued, her words barely echoing in your head, never breaking your gaze from Fury.

Eyes crystallizing, you never felt so helpless as you remembered that you had it in your hands to avenge their deaths and didn't. And now he was here, seeking to claim more innocent lives for the benefit of a nefarious organization. No, no, that wasn't going to happen.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Fury.”

“No.”

“Nicholas.”

“No, Y/N. You just barely recovered from that vibranium wound, and you want to risk being face to face with that monster again?”

“I wasn't ready at the moment, but I am now. Nicholas, please. I can't sit idly by when Howard's killer is out there,” you frowned at him, your anguished, desperate voice nothing more a reflection of everything you felt in your chest. But Fury was shaking his head once again, ready to give way to no excuses.

“I can't risk you like this again,” Fury barely murmured, your ears catching the words clearly.

“But I won't be alone. Steve and Natasha are there.”

“And they're hiding, too,” Fury assured, clasping his hands over his abdomen.

You frowned, your back slumping against the back of the chair. Hill's sympathetic look on the other side of Fury's gurney angered you. How could they think the best decision was to leave you behind? You weren't the one lying prostrate on a gurney with a bunch of broken bones.

“They're closer to the lion's den than I am right now.”

“But them the soldier doesn't know yet,” Fury pointed at you accusingly, rearranging himself on the bed with a grimace.

You looked at Fury, his one eye daring you to contradict him. It was probably true, you weren't going to deny it. But that didn't give them too much of an advantage, if it was true that many SHIELD agents really were part of HYDRA. Natasha and Steve wouldn't be able to do much if, in addition to the soldier, a hundred double agents showed up to stop them. Maybe even the three of them wouldn't be enough, but you weren't willing to stand by and do nothing. Not when you had the opportunity so close. Fury might not see it the same way, but you couldn't demand it of him when he hadn't gone through what you had gone through so many years before. He didn't see the blank stare of a young Tony, regretting and chastising himself for what had happened, for something completely out of his control.

Fury wasn't going to accede to your wishes, that much was certain. But the good thing was that as a protected subject of SHIELD, you had your own wild cards within the agency, like bypassing the Director's orders when you saw fit, as in the case of anything deemed an emergency.

“Well, try to stop me.”

You stood up, turned around and started walking in the direction of the exit, the expansive hallway welcoming you once again.

“Y/N,” Fury exclaimed, his body leaning forward as if he had truly believed he could follow you with so many wounds on his body. “Hill.”

As Maria approached you, you raised your hand, her feet stopping almost instantly.

“No,” you looked at her and then looked back at Fury.

“Fuck, Agent Carter really has no idea what she did giving you those powers.”

“You know damn well I can take good care of myself, just as well as she can. I'm not going to let him get away this time.”

“That's what worries me. You're so consumed by this idea of revenge that you'd sacrifice anything.”

“And you wouldn't?”

Fury frowned, the words he intended to counterattack with dying in his throat.

“If you'd had to go through the death of one of your best friends, knowing it had been a murder that would never be investigated as such and go unpunished. When after spending years and years trying to seek justice, life brings you home empty-handed. Do you have any idea how that feels, Nicholas? Maybe I'd be willing to sacrifice anything to punish the killer of Tony's parents, yes, but I swear I'm not leaving this world if I don't take him with me.”

The man on the gurney sighed, sharing a look with Hill to which she responded by lifting her shoulders. The defeated sigh Fury let out was enough of an answer you needed, but he added:

“Let me tell you something first.”

You were trying to follow the black car that was moving at high speed across the bridge. You had no way of communicating with Steve because he clearly didn't have his burner phone with him and neither did Natasha, as Hill had tried to contact her before meeting you with no result.

You had identified four people in the car, one of them being Natasha's reddish hair, before an armored van completely blocked your view. Steve must've been with her in the car, but you had no idea who the other two people accompanying them were.

That is, until you saw him.

The Winter Soldier, getting out of the armored van and moving to jump into the black car where Steve and Natasha were, the panic that ran through your body forcing you to press the accelerator to the maximum.

Despite the armored van blocking your path, you could tell from the left as the soldier smashed the back door glass, your blood freezing for a minute until you recognized Jasper Sitwell flying out through the window, courtesy of the tug the soldier gave him until he landed in the opposite lane of the bridge.

The sound of gunfire alerted you, moving to try to pass the van once again, when you heard a car brake followed by the screech of metal against the ground. The van suddenly sped up, clearing a path for you now that it didn't seem focused on blocking your way, and you caught up to its pace by the time it slammed into the trunk of the car Steve was in. The pickup took the car over the front, with the soldier gaining momentum to get on the roof of the car and not resting until he was able to wrench off the steering wheel and turn back to get into the armored truck.

You kept pace with the van, trying to catch up with the black car, when a second hit on the trunk caused them to lose control of the car. You slammed on the brakes when, before your heart could leap out of your mouth, you saw three people roll against the road using one of the car doors. You didn't have time to react when the soldier threw a grenade in the direction of your companions, Steve pushing Natasha and the impact pushing him so hard that he ended up flying under the bridge.

You opened the car door, getting out as quickly as possible and impacting Natasha in the process. Neither of you had time to say anything as the hail of bullets began.

“Run,” you exclaimed over the noise, pointing to the opposite lane of the bridge. “I'll cover you.”

You pulled out the dual pistols you packed in your belt, using your car as a shield as you fired in the direction of the soldier and his henchmen, hoping Natasha hadn't wasted a single minute. However, with the grenade launcher at hand, it was hard for you to get far. The moment Natasha jumped off the bridge, you didn't waste a second running in the direction Steve had fallen when the shell hit him, the sound of the bullets barely grazing you, the soldier in your peripheral vision walking in your direction.

You found Natasha the moment you hit the ground, the serum helping you keep your balance and she wasted no time in grabbing your arm to pull you into the shade.

“He's a fucking lunatic,” Natasha pointed at his shadow over the bridge at you, moving in stealth for both of you to shoot when his gaze was on a bus that had overturned.

If you hit him, there was no time to know, running straight for cover behind the bus. When the sound of bullets returned, a mutual nod between Natasha and you was enough for both of you to aim directly at the soldier, firing repeatedly.

“Run,” Natasha exclaimed, her pistols steady in her hands.

You wasted no time, instantly moving in the direction of the sidewalk, firing sporadically backwards to get Natasha to your side.

“How did you get here?” the overloaded, muffled voice of Natasha startled you, finding her crouching next to a car activating the voice engine of a holopad.

“All SHIELD cars have a tracker,” you barely replied, trying to keep your breathing in check, glancing over your shoulder in the direction they had left the soldier.

Natasha made an affirmative sound, leaving the holopad with a voice recording right at the bottom of a car tire.

“This will give us enough time to take him by surprise. Come on,” she moved to the other side of the sidewalk, moving between the altered bodies of civilians to camouflage herself before finding cover behind one of the cars, her feline gaze fixed on the approaching soldier. “If Steve finds out you're here, he's going to fall on his ass.”

“I've been in worse battles.”

“Girl, you have no idea what we've seen.”

You frowned at her, the mystery behind her words leaving much to be desired. Before the soldier got any closer, when he was distracted falling into Natasha's trap, she signaled you with two fingers to move to the right, down the path they had taken to get there, and you knew she was expecting she couldn't hold him off for long and needed you for support.

When the bomb behind the car exploded, Natasha jumped over the car and took the soldier by surprise falling on his shoulders, both struggling hard until he threw her against a car ready to shoot her, when Natasha threw a small shock device at him that neutralized his arm and gave him enough time to gesture a run in your direction.

Natasha took the lead, alerting the civilians and trying to get as far away from the soldier as she could, when one of his bullets hit her and you cursed between your teeth. You watched him move to the right, looking to shoot Natasha from behind and didn't think twice before you took momentum and jumped on him, crossing your legs around his torso and using your right arm to cut off his breath.

He dropped his weapon, the thud attracting the redhead's attention. You barely managed to make a running gesture with your hands as the soldier slammed into your side until your legs gave way from his grip and, grabbing you from torso height, flipped you over until you crashed your back against the hood of the car you two had been struggling over.

When you saw him pull one of his knives out of his pants, you arched up quickly, jumping out of the car and taking a defensive position in front of him, who had remained kneeling in front of the place you had occupied.

Just at that moment you noticed that part of his mask had fallen off, finding yourself face to face with blue eyes that almost made you lose your balance.

God, those eyes felt so familiar. If it wasn't because you knew he had died you would believe it was him, because you would recognize those eyes anywhere in the world.

The soldier stood up, getting out of the car and approaching you as if you were his prey.

“Zhivoy,” he muttered, moving the knife between his fingers and cocking his head to the side without taking his eyes off you. You recognized the Russian instantly, barely having a second to process it when the fight started.

You heard a curse behind you followed by quickened footsteps that you quickly recognized as Steve's, and that was enough of a distraction for the soldier to pounce on you.

You narrowly dodged his first attack, managing the speed to your advantage, ready to block it when he lunged a second time. His blade grazed your forearm, but the pain was nothing and you didn't let it distract you from attacking him, sending a strong kick into his torso after you neutralized one of his arms.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Why don't you have your fucking burner phone?” overly concerned for your friend's well-being, you could barely process what he had told you, trying to pull more bullets from your belt to load one of your pistols, finding the cartridge completely empty. You both stared at the soldier, Steve ready to leap into action the moment he stood up.

“You shouldn't be here,” was what Steve said, before lunging at the soldier the moment that one put his feet on the ground.

You seized the moment to go to Natasha, pulling out of your pockets a spray painkiller that you knew you would need to apply to Natasha's shoulder.

“You really are prepared for anything.”

Around the chaos, you managed as best you could to move Natasha as far out of range of the mess as possible, and turned just barely to see the soldier throw Steve's shield at him, who dodged it just barely without stopping running. When you saw the knife in the soldier's hands, a scream almost left your throat.

Steve and the soldier began a hand to hand fight that you could barely follow, looking in every direction for anything that might help your friend. But with nothing but your own strength to defend him, you moved in his direction as the soldier lifted him by the neck and threw him.

About to fall with the fist of his metal arm, you pushed him to the side causing him to lose his balance, helping Steve to his feet before resuming the hand to hand.

The soldier passed his furious glare over you before heading straight for Steve, the same blond pushing you aside and meeting the soldier fist to fist.

You stepped in between the two once again as the soldier pulled out a blade and you intercepted his arm midway, hitting the weak spots necessary for his hand to open and release the blade. His blue eyes met yours for a second, before he furiously grabbed both of your hands by the wrists, which held his right hand, with his metal hand, to raise them above your head and send you to the ground with a kick to your entire torso. He didn't walk away without first exclaiming again, “Zhivoy.”

Steve snarled, once again taking possession of his shield and closing in on the soldier before he could approach you once more. Retrieving the blade from somewhere on his belt, you heard them struggling against each other, but only one thought kept running through your head, racing your heart in a panic.

His eyes are so like Bucky's.

But that couldn't be possible. Bucky's fall was not to survive, how could he have survived? Worse, how could he have survived to become that?

How could Bucky be the one responsible that you had been looking for for so many years?

Hating to allow senseless emotions to take over your rational side, you rose once more raising your legs and landing on your feet, just for the moment when Steve slammed his shield into the forearm of his metal arm and turned to grab the soldier on his back, pushing him with his own back so that he fell off the other side of the road.

But your breath caught in your throat as you heard his voice, barely a whimper before Steve sent him flying across. The blond turned to look at you in concern, for the sound you had let out almost sounded like a groan of pain, when your horrified gaze met his among the masses of air.

For a moment, it seemed like everything around you stopped.

Steve frowned and in a split second turned his head away, tears making their way into your eyes without you being able to take a moment to fully process what you were seeing. Everything sounded a little slower, Steve's defensiveness soon faltering as he understood why you had sent him that look.

The soldier's mask on the ground, his head turned in your direction, that face you never thought you'd see again.

“Bucky?” Steve was the one who spoke, in stupefaction, and the soldier's face contracted in anger.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

With tears rolling down your cheeks and Steve's frozen stance, neither of you reacted when the soldier raised the gun in your direction, you for a split second regaining your consciousness and moving towards your friend when the sound of metal and a man appeared behind the soldier, large metal wings standing out behind the man who had just pushed the soldier out of the way.

You froze midway through holding Steve's arm, your hand sliding down his pants barely catching his attention.

The frightened look on the soldier's face, on Bucky's face, which he returned to them as he stood up, didn't stop you this time from reacting as he raised his gun at Steve once more, pulling your friend behind you, leaving your back exposed until you heard an explosion and noticed the pale Natasha a few steps behind, the missile launcher in her hands. You wanted to thank her, but you were too overwhelmed to think too much about it, to process fast enough what was happening. You had barely noticed that Steve had put the shield right behind you, holding you tightly against his chest.

When the explosion dissipated, the soldier was gone.

The sound of sirens and cars too far away, as Steve released his grip and looked in every direction he could to see if he could see him again. But the cars surrounded them with ease, Steve's clear eyes falling on yours, his expression a replica of yours, stupefaction and sadness reigning in them.

You didn't quite remember the journey or what had happened to make you end up back at the abandoned dam in front of Fury, Natasha finally having her shoulder tended to. They must've been talking for a while, because you felt their gazes on you, as heavy as the overwhelming pain that had fallen on your shoulders.

It couldn't be hard now. No. You couldn't back out after all these years… You really couldn't…

You couldn't even look Fury in the face.

When you felt a squeeze on your shoulder, even though you knew it was Steve, you couldn't find the strength to lift your head to look at him.

The conversation had moved to a nearby table and you were almost surprised to see Fury sitting there as if he didn't have some broken ribs, but you tried to pay attention because you couldn't risk failing at this plan.

“What's that?” the man standing to the side of Steve, who had introduced him to you as Sam a couple of minutes earlier, turned to Fury, who was showing the programming cards you were to use on the mission.

“Once the helicarriers reach nine hundred meters altitude, they will triangulate with the Project satellites and be weapons,” Maria explained to them, flipping her computer to show the plan visualization.

“Intercept those transporters and replace their targets with ours,” Fury complemented, the images becoming clearer on the blue screen.

“One or two won't be enough,” Maria spoke again, her eyes sweeping over those of everyone around. “We must intercept all three of them, because if one of those ships keeps running, a lot of people will die.”

Steve's hand found your shoulder again, apparently noticing how hard you were trying to stay present in the conversation, moving your intertwined hands on your lap tirelessly. Your head kept coming back to that moment in the road, his frightened look enlarging the hole in your chest, the uncertainty of not knowing what had happened to him after that, where he was at that moment, if he was even okay.

But at the same time the rejection, the sadness, the heaviness? How could you stand there and blame him when he didn't even seem to remember who he was? You had spent years looking for that culprit, looking to bring peace to the memory of Tony's parents, and now that you knew who he was, why didn't you feel calmer? Why did the pit in your stomach feel deeper and deeper? Why was your heart pounding with fear because you didn't know where he was?

“Look, I didn't know about Barnes,” Fury's words made you raise your head, his sorrowful gaze directed at your friend and momentarily passing over you. Steve's hand on your shoulder tensed slightly, leaning forward a little, his attitude more hostile than you remembered in the few minutes you'd left the conversation.

“Even if you had known, would you have told us? Or would you have compartmentalized too?” Steve's hard expression gave way to no claim, his hand firm on your shoulder. “SHIELD, HYDRA… it will all go away.”

The green views from the dam's high trail were pretty enough that you could distract your mind for a moment, the weight of Steve's presence at your side keeping you anchored to reality.

“Y/N,” Steve was the first to speak after spending several seconds in silence, his arms resting on the railing with his hands clasped together. “There was something I heard about and I… I don't know how to process it, but I think you have the answer.”

Your body didn't bother to react to his words, barely shaking your head in a subtle nod prompting him to speak.

“With Natasha we used a flash drive that led us to the coordinates of some… old SHIELD facility. There, at the time, Zola was alive,” Steve paused, your brow barely furrowing as the information caught your attention. “Well, his brain was alive because of technology. Everything was a machine. But the point is, he said something, that HYDRA makes a lot of things look like accidents when they're not, and he showed us a picture of Howard and Maria's accident.”

You half-opened your lips, taking a deep breath, too emotionally drained to care too much about what you knew he was going to ask.

“Maybe I wouldn't have made the connection if I hadn't stayed in that room to listen to you and Fury, but those mystery accidents you said were connected to the Winter Soldier, was theirs one of those?”

You felt his gaze on your profile as a lone tear ran down your cheek. There was nothing more you could say to him, at that point it was more than fair for you to give him a concrete answer.

“That's why you stayed after Howard's funeral, besides Peggy. She told me you had spent a lot of time investigating something you couldn't tell Tony. That's why you're running away from him everytime.”

Surely it was because you felt guilty, but more tears ran down your cheeks as Steve beside you only sighed.

“Why didn't you just… tell me?”

“I don't know, I didn't… I didn't want you to carry that around. You'd barely been back, knowing about his death had to be too much already, and I couldn't add to the fact that it hadn't been an accident. You have no idea how long I've been carrying this weight on my shoulders trying to find the culprit… and now… now this…”

“I wouldn't have minded sharing that with you,” Steve frowned. “It would've helped either way.”

“I'm sorry," you whispered in the middle of a sob, his deep breath sounding close as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “I'm so sorry, Steve.”

“It's okay, it's okay,” his soothing, comforting voice sent you spiraling, not understanding how he could put it all aside and accept your apology without further explanation. His hand running up and down your back caused emotions to explode inside you, your body breaking into a sob that Steve was already expecting, his arms holding you tightly as you cried your soul out.

You didn't deserve someone like him in your life. You seemed to be doing him more harm than good.

tag: @rubyxx16

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier #steve rogers #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #captain america

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

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The Way You Miss Me | Joel Miller (Chapter Seven)

Chapter Summary | Joel has been MIA for a week since he kissed you on the porch. You're paired up for patrol, alone for the first time and Joel has twenty years of time to make up to you.

Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings | SMUT. MY BABIES ARE FUCKING AGAIN. Unprotect PiV sex, oral sex (F receiving) and some dirty talk for good measure.

Authors Note | It took me so long to get this right in my brain, but these two idiots are finally together again and I'm so happy that they get aa happy ending. This is the last full chapter of The Way You Miss Me - I have a small epilogue planned coming out soon to round their story off. I'd love to know what you think - you can pop into my ask to let me know and as always, reblogs, comments and likes are my life blood.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It’s just past 9am when a knock at your front door pulls you from the bottom of your coffee mug. You set it down on the coffee table and answer the door. It’s Tommy.

“Good mornin’, sunshine,” He greets as usual, “Nice day, right?”

You lean against the door frame, “Morning Tommy,” You smile, you know he wants something, “Absolutely, looks like it’s going to be a scorcher.”

“Perfect day to get out and about, right?”

You smirk, “What do you want, Tommy?”

“Ben is sick, he was due to head out on patrol up to the lodge, I was wondering if maybe you’d consider taking his duty today?”

It had been a week since the last time you’d gone out. Since the close call with Ellie and Joel. Since Joel stood on your front porch and kissed the life out of you. Or back into you. You still couldn’t decide. A week since you’d seen him. You didn’t know where he was hiding.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not, what time was he due to head off?”

“He was down for midday patrol, should mean you’re back in time for dinner later,” His hand moves to the back of his neck, like it always does when there’s something else, he’s not telling you, “You should know Joel is down as his patrol partner, I know things haven’t been easy between you two, so if you’re not comfortable, I can take it instead.”

You shake your head, so Joel hasn’t told Tommy about kissing you. Interesting. Were you about to go back to being a secret again?

“It’s alright Tommy, I’m a big girl,” You shrug your shoulders, “Plus, Maria will have my ass, you’ve got a baby to think about now, can’t have you out there risking life and limb just yet.”

“I owe you one, thank you,” Tommy reaches out to squeeze your arm, “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behaviour.”

“I’m capable of putting that man in his place Tommy,” You say, pushing yourself off the doorframe, “We’ll be fine.”

There’s a slight breeze through the trees as you walk which makes the heat pleasant. You’ve got a rifle strapped to your back, much like you had when you’d taken Joel and Ellie to the lake, and a handgun resting in the back of your jeans. Joel is walking a few steps behind you; he’s been like that since you left Jackson an hour ago.

“Enjoying the view, Miller?” You shoot over your shoulder.

“Always have.” Is his response. He can’t see your face but you’re smiling.

You have to admit, this is weird. When you’d met with him at the gun store, he’d been polite, saying hello, but keeping his distance. You thought maybe once you’d left the confines of town he’d lighten up, walk closer to you, maybe even hold your hand, but he’d kept a few steps behind you all the way. Maybe it had something to do with the tight jeans you’d decided to wear, but something in you suspects he’d a few steps behind to keep an eye out, to protect you if something goes wrong.

It doesn’t take long for you both to reach the bottom of the hill that leads to the lodge. You stop and prepare yourself. You’d first done this run with Tommy in the winter and it had almost killed you. The snow had made walking up the steep incline even harder, and when Tommy had announced you were halfway you thought you might cry. Your lungs were screaming, the calf muscles in your legs threatening to cramp.

“You alright?” Joel asks, finally standing side-by-side with you.

“I hate this fuckin’ hill.” You reply simply.

Joel laughs, “Come on, you’ve still got youth on your side, I’m old and this is fine.”

“I’m forty-five years old Joel and my knees have gone to shit,” You hit his arm, “And my lungs are not what they once were.”

He’s stepping forward to start walking, “That’s what you get for starting on cigarettes,” He scoffs, turning around to you, “You should really give up.”

“Don’t try and take the high ground Miller, it won’t work.”

He holds out his hand to you now, “Will you take my hand, for God’s sake,” He chuckles, “It’s not going to burn you.”

You slip your hand into his and he’s pulling you up the start of the hill. His hand is still large against your own, his skin still rough and calloused, like it always had been. You’d expected him to let go of your hand once you got moving, but instead, he moves to lace his fingers through your own. You look down at your entwined hands and up at his face, which shows a smile you hadn’t seen in forever.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much,” He speaks softly as you tackle the hill together, “Tommy’s been bustin’ my ass with patrols all week.”

“It’s alright Joel, you’re here now.” You give his hand a squeeze and a comfortable silence falls between you.

“Listen, I wanted to say sorry for what I said before,” You can tell he’s a little out of breath, but you don’t know whether that’s from the hill or the nerves you can feel radiating through him, “It was wrong of me to tell you I hadn’t thought about you, truth is darlin’ I never stopped, always wondered what happened to you, where you were, what you were doin’, it drove me crazy the whole time,” He stops to take a deep breath, “I’m fuckin’ awful at this,” He grumbles to himself, “I guess what I was tryin’ to say to you was that thinking you were dead helped me stop thinking that maybe you weren’t safe, that someone had you or somethin’ like that.”

“Joel, stop, please,” You give him another squeeze to his hand, “It’s fine, I get it. There were times when I tried to do the same, although I suppose if anyone was going to make it through this whole ordeal then it was always going to be you,” The hill is becoming steeper and you’ve both slowed down, “I guess I just always knew if it wasn’t going to be you, you know, that I ended up with, I didn’t want anyone else, that’s why I kept telling myself one day, one day I’d find you, and all that matters now is that I did, we can forget everything else, let’s just focus on moving forward.”

It takes another thirty minutes or so of walking before you’re cresting the brow of the hill and the lodge comes into view. Joel let’s go of your hand for the first time since he took it, letting you press your palms to your knees, bent over to catch your breath. He’s right, you need to give up the smoking.

Once you’re both sure the lodge is still secure with no signs of infected or raiders, you move to the guestbook which Tommy had set up and write both yours and Joel’s name down, with the date and any observation notes. When you turn around, he’s leant against the railings, arms crossed over his chest with his backpack and rifle placed against the wall. The sun in framing him like he’s straight from the pages of the bible, creating a halo around his head, and you think he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but then again, he always was.

“C’mere darlin’.” He reaches a hand out to you and you walk the short distance, taking hold of it.

He tugs you to his chest, arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours circle his waist. You can feel him take a deep breath at the top of your head and instinctively you do the same, soaking in his smell. You feel content here, he always was your safe haven.

“I’ve missed you so much Joel.” You speak softly, feeling one of his hands drop to your lower back, pressing you further into his body.

“I missed you too darlin’ girl,” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “But I’m here now, and I’m not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

You tilt your head towards his face, pressing yourself up on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You try to pull away but instead, his firm hand presses into the small of your back to keep you still and then his mouth his on yours. It’s slow, his lips pressing against your own softly, so soft that you could almost convince yourself you were dreaming. He pulls away slightly, tilting his face so his nose bumps against your own, then his mouth is back on yours, this time with more force behind it.

One of his hands is tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your face towards him and as your mouth opens for him and your tongues are working against each other, you feel the hand that was at the small of your back work its way down. His hand slides into the back pocket of your jeans and he squeezes, earning a moan to fall from your lips, only to get drowned out on his tongue.

He pulls away and presses his forehead to your own, eyes closed, and you can tell he’s just as content as you are right now.

“I’ve thought about this for the last twenty years Joel,” You whisper, “Please, I need you.”

He smiles with his eyes still closed. He moves, turning your position so he has you pressed up against the railings this time. His lips are back on yours as his hands move to undo the button of your jeans, undoing it with the same prowess as he always had. He tugs the zipper down and then he’s dropping to his knees in front of you and you think you might combust with excitement. He’s pulling your jeans down your legs, trailing wet, open mouth kisses to your skin as he does. He’s unlacing your shoes and pulling them off before his husky voice is speaking to you again.

“Step out of this darlin’ girl.”

You do as he says, lifting one foot and then the other so he can pull your jeans right off. They’re discarded somewhere behind him, then he’s hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. Your head tilts back as you feel his mouth pressing kisses around the outline of your underwear. His hands are gripping the back of your legs, where the curve of your ass meets the back of your thighs and you think that if you have to wait any longer for what you want, your heart might stop.

“Joel…” You breathe out, fisting a hand in his hair to pull his attention to you, “I’ve waited too long for this for you tease me.” “What do you want, darlin’ girl?”

“Take these off and put your mouth on me, Miller.”

You can feel his smirk against your inner thigh as he pulls your leg from his shoulder. Your underwear is swiftly discarded, and your leg is back over his shoulder, his hands cupping the round cheeks of your ass in order to keep you upright.

He licks the pad of his tongue from your aching entrance all the way up the seam of your pussy until the tip of his tongue flicks at your clit and you crumple. His hands on your ass are doing a fine job of keeping you up as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hand is fisting his hair and you’re pulling so hard you think you might hurt him, but judging from the depraved sounds that are coursing through your pussy, you don’t think it matters to him. He keeps you like this for what feels like forever, teasing your clit with his tongue until you’re practically grinding onto his face.

“Joel… fuck, oh my god, I’m so close, please…” You beg.

“Please what?”

“Make me cum.”

He wastes no time. He does exactly what he used to do all those years ago. He pushes two of his fingers into your weeping pussy, curling them in just the right way that you’re keening at him, shallow breaths heaving through your chest as his lips suction around your clit. It’s too much. It’s always been too much. Before you know it, your legs are shaking and cries of “JoelJoelJoel…” are falling from your lips as he works you through the first orgasm you’ve had since you last saw him.

He presses kisses to your inner thigh, rubbing his stubble on your skin to wipe off most of your slick before he’s standing. There’s concern in his eyes because you’re crying. Genuine tears of happiness that the man you had wanted all along really was here and was still able to pull earth-shattering orgasms from you like it was nothing.

“I’m okay,” You reassure him, “Just happy.”

He kisses you and the taste of yourself on his lips is sinful. You drink the taste of yourself from him, letting your palm run over the growing bulge at the front of his jeans, “You going to fuck me, Miller?” You ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He’s turned you around now, the front of your body pressed against the railings. You can see the whole world in front of you. The sun just beginning to set, the wind rustling the trees, and Jackson out in the distance. You hear Joel undoing his belt buckle and the sound of his zipper being pulled down. Then you feel his skin against your own, the hardness of his cock pressing into your ass. He takes a moment to push his fingers back inside you, gathering your slick which he then uses to coat his own length, before he’s lining up to you and gently pushing himself inside.

If you thought the feeling of his mouth had been a relief, it was nothing compared to this. He had always been a snug fit inside you, the friction of his size sending tingles up your spine as he slowly edged himself inside you. He’d never fucked you bare before, too risky, but now you didn’t care. You could feel all of him inside you and it was like you’d never been apart. Fit right back together like two pieces of a puzzle.

He starts thrusting into you in earnest, clearly as overcome with the feeling of being back inside you as he always had been, “Fuckin’ hell darlin’, you’ve not changed a bit,” He pulls you flush against his chest, one hand resting at your throat, the other wrapped across your lower belly, mouth right against your ear, “Still fit me like a glove.”

“Oh Joel,” You moan, hands gripping the railing in front of you, “Harder, please.” You beg.

He obliges, just like he always has done, “Darlin’, I’m not gonna last much longer,” He breathes out, hand snaking down to your clit where he starts to rub tight circles around you, “Fuckin’ old man, I want to spend eternity buried inside you.”

“Ohhh Joel, don’t stop,” Your head falls back against his shoulder, “I’m… ah! Oh god, I’m going…”

“Go on, give me one more, always such a good girl for me.”

You do just that, the tight circles he’s rubbing on your clit and the filth he’s whispering in your ear, topped off with how his cock is slipping in and out of you, has you screaming his name out into the world below you as your feel your pussy clench around his cock. He’s not far behind you, he pulls out of you just in time to paint your backside with thick ropes of his cum as he fists himself through his own orgasm.

You fall forward, pressing your forehead into the railing whilst you catch your breath. Joel follows suit, his chest falling against your back whilst you both gather your thoughts.

“I have to admit, this is not how I thought I’d fuck you after all these years.” He’s chuckling into your ear as you both stand up, aware that you need to start heading back soon.

“We were never conventional Joel,” You smile as he hands you your clothes, “I’d have thought something was wrong if there was a comfy bed or I had to be extra quiet, so we didn’t wake anyone up.”

The walk back to Jackson is much easier downhill than it was going up it earlier. The sun is almost set when the gates open for you both. Joel had been holding your hand the entire time and you’d expected that once you got back to the safety of the commune, he’d let it go, but he does the opposite. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and you find your hand slipping into the back pocket of his jeans, just like his had up at the lodge.

You can see Tommy in front of The Tipsy Bison, he looks like he’s seen a ghost at the two of you, claiming each other in front of everyone else. And then he’s cheering, confusion written on the faces of the people around him who don’t know your history. It’s reminiscent of high school and you bury your head in Joel’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. Joel shrugs his shoulder, so you lift your head.

“Not embarrassed to be seen with me, are you?” He’s joking, and you know it.

“Never.” You smile, pressing a kiss to his lips for everyone to see.

You’re done hiding from everyone else. Joel Miller was yours and you were his. No more secrets.

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#Joel Miller #Pedro Pascal #The last of us #the last of us hbo #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fan fiction #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fan fiction #TWYMM #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal

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lavendertales · 1 year

Text

Guilty pleasures: Chapter 1

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: introduced to the new watch group he has to lead, Joel finds himself bickering with one of the recruits in particular. but not so much when their lives are in imminent danger.

word count: 3.5k

SERIES WARNINGS: age gap (reader is in their 30s, Joel in his 50s); enemies to lovers, sexual activities, mutual pining & tension, violence, PTSD, weapons & injuries.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

gif: @katronautt

series masterlist | AO3

JANUARY

The cold has long settled in your bones, chilling your entire body. No matter the layers of clothing on you, the long road had still taken its toll on you. You could barely keep your eyes open with the snow drizzling down.

Maybe you should’ve picked a warmer place to settle. California sounded like a dream, especially in these conditions. You missed California. But no, of course you agreed to go through a blizzard just because Maria was grateful to you that you saved her and her husband’s lives. And it was by accident entirely, but that’s only for you to know.

“There we are,” a male voice announced. “Home, sweet home.”

Fucking finally, you thought.

All you could think about was a hot soup and a soft mattress underneath you.

Sure you were grateful to Maria and her husband Tommy that they asked you to come along with them in Jacksonville, but you were still a little reluctant settling down somewhere. You haven’t sat in one place since many years, and the subdued memories of that time make you think this isn’t such a good idea.

But you want to give it a shot. You’ve known Maria for a while; somehow, from the time you threatened to shoot her to the time she allowed you and others to smuggle some pills and food out of the city, she became the one constant in your life. Every now and then, the two of you would meet, help each other out and then be on your separate ways. Except now, you were part of Jackson’s community, and you wanted to give it a fair shot.

You dismounted from the horse, backpack frozen on your back. You rubbed your hands together, looking around at the houses and the lights that surrounded them, and a faint smile stretched from the corners of your lips. It looked oddly homey. A place you could see yourself living out the rest of your days.

“Not bad, huh?” Tommy asked proudly next to you.

You made a face, still gazing around. “Not bad, I’ll give you that.”

“Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll stay,” Maria tapped you on the shoulder. “The rest, follow Tommy.”

You followed Maria to a little house, not too far into the city center, along its main street. You entered rather hesitantly after her, quickly inspecting the place. It had everything you could possibly want: a kitchen, living room, and bedroom. It was more than what you’ve had in a long time. But most importantly, you noticed a fireplace; that had you hastily removing your backpack and shotgun and going over to start a fire.

Maria chuckled. “Not a fan of the cold, huh?”

You rubbed your hands together, waiting for the wood to spark the highly anticipated sparks of fire. “I was born on the coast,” you said. “So no, not really into freezing limbs.”

“Get some rest, alright? Tomorrow we’re gonna get organized in groups and assign jobs for each. Any preference?”

“I got a shotgun. Take a wild guess.”

Maria chuckled again. “Alright, so either hunting or watch.”

“Either way, I’m shooting things.”

“You sure you don’t want the pistol?”

You took another look at the little revolver in Maria’s hand and gulped. You could feel the color draining from your cheeks. You wrapped your hand tighter around your shotgun, staring blankly at Maria.

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied after a while. “I prefer big guns.”

“Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

His knees hurt. Fuck, he should’ve known better than to climb up that steep hill in such a hurry. Not like they were being followed by any infected. But there he’d been, trying to prove something to himself still—and to Ellie too, he supposes.

But Joel Miller isn’t exactly a young man anymore. His heart might still be that of a twenty year old, but the aches throughout his body say otherwise regarding his physical health. His age is showing in moments like these, and as much as he hates it, he accepts it nonetheless.

Whenever he looks in the mirror, he still sees himself as a father-to-be. He recognizes the man behind the tired figure he faces every day, but that young man has died two decades ago. He is long gone, replaced by the hardened flesh of a ruthless survivor.

No time for wallowing in self-pity today though; he had promised Tommy he would lead the watch group, so he’ll do what he always does: shoves down his pain, deep, deep down, and moves along with the world.

January’s cold weather is unforgiving, even under the thick coat he’s wearing. Joel goes out front in the street, surprised to see that the little group Tommy and Maria put together to keep Jackson safe is already there. He walks towards them, quickly inspecting them. Three men, two of which are built pretty solid, and two women. One of them holds a shotgun, clinging onto it like it’s some sort of life vest, and Joel could almost chuckle for whatever reason.

“Mornin’,” he salutes them.

He receives some mutters and replies, with the exception of the woman with the shotgun. His eyes instinctively go to her figure, and when their eyes meet, a cold shiver runs down his spine. One that has nothing to do with the freezing weather.

“Let’s get moving,” Joel tells the group.

“I see you’ve meet the troupes.”

Tommy’s voice comes up from Joel’s right, patting his brother on the shoulder as a greeting.

“What do you think?” Tommy asks.

“Not bad. It’ll do.”

“What are we, spring chicken?”

The voice belongs to you. Your eyes meet Joel’s again, and yours narrow, alongside your furrowed brows. There is no warmth in the glare you receive, and there is none in the one you return.

“Those would probably be more useful,” Joel retorts.

You point the shotgun at Joel, with everyone else on high alert. Tommy positions himself between the two of you, hands raised in defense.

“Let’s keep it friendly, okay?” he tells you both. “We’re on the same side here.”

“I’m not the one pointing a gun,” Joel says sourly.

You lower the shotgun, still staring at him. You see a man who’s clearly been through a lot, hardened not only by the cruel outbreak, but by other things as well. You don’t bother asking or caring, honestly. You’ve got your own shit to deal with, and you have no interest in appealing to anyone.

“Great manners you’ve got,” Joel addresses you directly.

“So what, you’re the oldest living gentleman?”

Tommy chuckles nervously. “I see you’ve hit it off with my big brother.”

Your jaw drops slightly as you stare incredulously at Tommy, who introduces Joel to you, and you to Joel. The two of you share another glare, filled with nothing but distrust and hesitance. Joel moves closer to Tommy, muttering, “I thought this group’s for watching, not making unnecessary threats to strangers.”

“Trust me, Joel, if you run into anything on that watch, you’re gonna be glad you got her there.”

Something about the way Tommy makes that statement, with a little pride and glimmer in his eyes, it raises Joel’s curiosity. But he shoves that down as well, and resumes his position.

“Alright, let’s get movin’, now,” he tells the group.

You move to the front of the line that gets formed; that way, you get a better view at this Joel Miller.

Time turned half of his hair gray, adding a sort of dignified aura around him. He’s got broad shoulders, the bony structure visible even with the heavy coat he’s got on. Though his face is undoubtedly tainted by hardship and his eyes seemed to spew iciness during the previous contact, they were somehow still warm. As if there was still something for him to hold on to.

“You point that gun at me again, we’re gonna have an issue,” he warns out of the blue.

You chuckle, holding onto the shotgun’s strap. “You haven’t had anything poking in your back in a long time, have you, big guy?”

Joel turns to you, a dangerous frown creasing his forehead. “Could say the same about you with that goddamn attitude.”

You hide the smirk that resides on your face, moving along with the rest of the group.

“That’s your opinion,” you retort cheekily.

Joel’s mind starts to race, but he swiftly shuts it all off. He doesn’t need another aggravation.

“I can see why you got this promotion,” you comment. “Head of the watch party, Tommy’s big bro—“

“What, you’re jealous or something?”

“Please. If Tommy were real smart, he’d see that I got more stamina in me, but I can appreciate him sticking with family.”

While the others keep climbing up the hill, Joel stops dead in his tracks and stares you down.

“You have no idea about the things I can do,” he seems to threaten, only it comes out more guttural, almost alluring.

You don’t reply. You simply refrain from smiling, figuring the gesture would set him off further, and you need to keep moving before you freeze to death.

Two weeks you’ve been in Jackson, and you feel like you’ve lived there for years. While there was a certain familiarity and coziness to the small town and its people, there’s also a feeling of repetitiveness. Like a poorly prepared routine. You didn’t really mind it because you weren’t there to make friends. You were there because Maria was grateful. That was pretty much it. You weren’t really interested in friendships, anyway.

And certainly not with someone like Joel Miller.

Though you wouldn’t mind having a thing or two going on the side. He’s really not bad on the eyes, but you’d never say that to him or to anyone, much less to Tommy. You get the sense that for the Miller brothers, loyalty came first. You could appreciate that, but you wouldn’t want to get in the middle of anything.

“How much further?” one of the men, Marcus, asked.

“Are we up the hill?” Joel asks.

“No…?”

“Then we still got road to cover.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pushes past the slight knee pain. He takes a mental note to get some of those pain killers and whiskey later. He has the feelings he’s gonna want to be knocked out tonight. Knowing that he has to lead this group, though, it gives him a certain sense of pride and accomplishment, and, like with everything else in his life, if he’s gonna do this, he’s gonna do this right.

The icy road and harsh air breathing onto his face keep him awake and alert. His eyes roam around endlessly, his ears open and attentive for the slightest noise. All he sees before him is white and blue, the occasional gray reminding him of his own graying features. His joints ache, his body temperature drops, but his heart beats faster. In those twenty years, he’s seen enough to know reach a point where infected no longer scare him. He’s seen all the stages of the virus, all the creatures that were once human, and he’s done it all.

What does scare Joel, though, are people. People are by far the scariest creatures in nature. At least with the infected, you know what you’re in for. Animals, same thing. People, however, have a conscience, and never knowing what truly lies there is the most frightening prospect.

So anyone who knows Joel Miller in the slightest knows he’s reluctant when it comes to people. The only ones he trusts are Ellie, Tommy and Maria. The list does not go on. These people behind him—whose names he couldn’t be bothered to remember—are cargo. An obligation, but, should it come to it, a nuisance. Five people behind him, meant to follow him, and Joel feels as lonely as ever.

Which he prefers, of course.

There’s sudden rustling in some bushes nearby. Almost in sync, all six of you put up your weapons, ready to defend yourselves. The previous guy, Marcus, seems the most nervous as his arm betrays a slight shake; Joel ignores it, eyes locked on the frozen leaves. Seconds later, a rabbit emerges carefree. You all put your guns away.

“I thought it was—“Marcus starts.

Joel huffs. “Congratulations, you caught a rabbit.”

“We all had our weapons ready,” you intervene. “Better a rabbit than a fuckin’ walker.”

Joel throws another glance at you, half unimpressed and half curious. Tommy’s words about you echo in his mind, though he fails to assign any particular meaning to them. Trust me, Joel, if you run into anything on that watch, you’re gonna be glad you got her there. He didn’t ask for clarity, though in hindsight, he probably should have. What were you, some sort of karate expert? An incredible warrior? Not likely. And not because of a sexist issue, but because he doubted your harsh attitude and presumed anger against the world would pair perfectly with great hunting skills.

He knows that firsthand.

A couple of miles further, there’s more rustling. Marcus seems too disappointed in himself to prepare his gun this time, but Joel puts up his, and so do you.

“Is that—?” the other woman starts, but you swiftly turn around and press your index to your lips to shush her.

You stare at the ground, noticing some footprints. Dragged footprints. Shotgun at the ready, you look around, remaining right behind Joel. When no other sound but rustling is heard, you exchange a look with him, both of you concerned. You both know it’s not raiders; if it were, they would’ve attacked already.

And then you hear it.

The sound any of you dreads to hear.

Clickers.

You don’t see the first one till it’s too late. It quite literally jumps in front of you, convulsing around aimlessly. While everyone’s eyes widen, you hold your breath and simply look at the poor creature walking around. You know that if you shoot now, you might trigger a swarm of clickers and you’d all be outnumbered and doomed. So you remain still, breath still in, right under Joel’s and the group’s shocked eyes.

You feel the snow beneath your feet, and you gulp with nervousness. One wrong move and the clicker would hear the snow crumpling under your boots. You beg your body to remain frozen in the same spot, dead silent, and you watch as the creatures wanders off.

The second clicker, now that one you do see.

Joel doesn’t; so you react on an impulse. You come up from behind him, one hand over his arm, the other one covering his mouth. You both stare in dismay at the clicker convulsing right by you, then right by the group, followed by another, and another one, and before you know it, there are seven of them. Joel remains locked under your harsh touch, thus allowing you to keep him safe. It’s an act of trust that takes you both by surprise, but the moment calls for it. There is no other way.

After who knows how many seconds or minutes, you slowly let go of Joel, and he looks down on you, murmuring an inaudible thank you. You nod once, your breaths gone as you hear someone tripping, and the subsequent roar of the clickers.

It happens too fast: you and Joel both pull out the guns and start shooting the clickers alongside the rest of the group. Marcus is face to face with one of the creatures, pinned down to the cold ground, and you reach into the holster strap on your thigh to throw a knife at it. Hurt, the creature lets out a loud shriek, but in return you put several bullets into its distorted head.

“Move, move!” you hear Joel shout.

You make eye contact with Marcus, seeing the horrified expression on his face and the blood on his clothes. You gun down another clicker that was running manically in your direction, help take out the others with the group, able to breathe afterwards.

The white snow remains now tainted by blood and corpses, those of the clickers. You all check each other, pleased to see that you’re all safe. But then you lock eyes with Marcus again, and you kneel before him, inspecting his body.

“You hurt?” Joel asks him.

He nods frantically, pointing to his leg. You see the bite mark that goes well past the jeans’ fabric, and you shudder. Fuck. You glance around, finding your knife in one of the clickers’ heads, retrieving it and wiping the blood off on your jacket. You think at the very least, you can make Marcus go without that much pain.

But Joel is faster than you.

A gunshot is heard, and you flinch when it dawns on you that Marcus was just shot in the head, right in front of you.

You stand up, looking at Joel in utter shock and anger. “What the fuck?!” you exclaim.

Joel is too busy putting his gun away to respond to you. The other woman, Annie, responds to you in a fairly small voice, “It’s the policy.”

You turn to her, frowning. “I’m aware of that. But it doesn’t say anywhere that we can’t make this easier for those who die.”

Joel scoffs, and the sound angers you so much you put the blade to his throat, earning a few gasps from the group.

“Put that down,” he warns, tone dry and bored.

“He should’ve died easier,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

Joel looks at you, almost through you. “There’s no easy way to die in a fuckin’ outbreak.”

You remove the blade from his throat. It’s the second time in just a few short hours that you’ve threatened Joel Miller. The day wasn’t even half done yet, and you were already drained and angry.

“What, we were supposed to let him go?” Joel asks you.

“No. I know the fucking policy. I just—“

You exhale, shaking your head, acknowledging the fact that you are probably fighting a losing battle against morals. Of which you have too little, matter of fact.

“Never shot someone to spare them?”

Joel’s question punches a hole through your stomach. You gulp, staring at Marcus’ now lifeless body. The image quickly distorts, the body turning into that of another one, smaller and bloodier. Your hand shakes, your limbs go cold, and it takes you a bit before returning to reality.

“Path is clear,” you announce the obvious. “I guess we’re done for today.”

This time you take the lead ahead, and Joel and the rest follow you in complete silence. You only walk in front of them so they don’t see the distressed look on your face, not because of some newly found sense of leadership. You couldn’t care less about that.

When you reach back to Jackson, roughly one hour later, you run into Tommy and some teenage girl. Tommy’ face drops, looking at you, Joel, Annie and the rest.

“Infected?” he asks his brother.

Joel nods. “Clickers. Took them out.”

“Where’s Marcus?”

“On the bright side, path up the hill should be clear now,” you tell him. “On the downside, Marcus won’t be joining us for dinner in the future. If he does, that ain’t Marcus and we should probably kill him for good.”

You walk right past him and everyone. Ellie stares at your silhouette growing smaller in the distance, then turns to Tommy and Joel. “Who’s that?”

Tommy introduces your name to Ellie. Joel side eyes them, his mind playing your name on a loop. It’s a sound word, something worth remembering.

“Hate to admit, but you were right about her,” Joel tells Tommy, who smiles in delight.

“What did I tell you, huh? What happened?”

“When clickers were there, she was the first one to hear ‘em. None of us did till she did. She saved me from one of ‘em. Then she held a knife to my throat, but I reckon that’s a well-balanced treatment.”

“Whoa, that’s pretty badass if you ask me,” Ellie comments in awe.

“Good thing I didn’t ask you, isn’t it?” Joel replies.

Ellie sticks out her tongue at him and makes a face that merely amuses Joel. He finds himself staring into the distance as well, remembering the indignation on your face as he shot Marcus, the glimmer of hope in your eyes thinking there might’ve been an easier way to end his doomed life.

Deep down, he learns to appreciate that. Joel himself hasn’t had hope in quite some time, not since he saved Ellie from the fucking Fireflies.

Much as he might despise your attitude, maybe you and Joel aren’t that different after all.

478 notes · View notes

wifeofnatasharomanoff · 1 year

Text

Navigation <3

About me: I'm Roza! 19, south asian, my pronouns are she/they

Who I write for: Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Maria Hill, Carol Danvers,(more to come!)

My asks are always open! I'll write your asks if they aren't like absolutely uncomfortable to write.

Series Masterlist

Mini Series'/One-shots Masterlist (few 18+ fics)

Parent Nat x Reader Masterlist (few 18+ fics)

Marvel Quotes:

“Can babies breathe in the washing machine?”

“What is so funny?”

“Baby number 3?”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov #natasha marvel #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #carol danvers x reader #maria hill x reader #maria hill x f!reader

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literaryavenger · 5 months

Text

Captain America: The Winter Soldier - 3

Summary: You find out the truth about Fury and, after he brings you up to speed, you make plans to take down Hydra for good.

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader, platonic!Sam Wilson x F!Reader, platonic!Nick Fury x F!Reader, platonic!Maria Hill x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Pierce being a dick. Mentions of death. Mentions of fighting and fire arms. The Winter Soldier, he's a warning. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The ride is quiet until Steve, who was shocked into silence until this moment, says “It was him.”

You look at him on your right but his gaze is to the floor. “He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.”

“How's that even possible?” Sam says from in front of Steve. “It was, like, seventy years ago.”

“Zola.” Steve answers without skipping a beat. “Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…” he trails off, looking up at Sam.

“None of that's your fault, Steve.” Natasha says and you turn your attention on her.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” You're too busy looking at Natasha’s palling face to be sad for Steve.

“We need to get a doctor here.” You say, your eyes landing on the blood on her shoulder, which apparently Sam noticed too.

“We don't put pressure on that wound,” he says, turning to the agent next to him “she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

The guard pulls out an electric rod and looks like he's gonna use it on Sam but, suddenly, he pokes the other guard with it.

You're all so fucking confused until the guard takes out his helmet to reveal a groaning Maria Hill.

“That thing was squeezing my brain.” she looks at all of you while you let out a breath of relief, but she lands on Sam and then looks back at Steve, pointing at him. “Who’s this guy?”

“Long story” you say and, when she narrows her eyes at you, you roll your own. “I’m handcuffed too, I’m obviously on your side.” you say while raising your cuffed hands and raising an eyebrow.

She softens but relented only after receiving a nod from Steve, confirming what you're saying.

She helps you escape and soon you're entering a seemingly abandoned facility, Natasha leaning on you for balance.

A man you recognize as one of the doctors that were operating on Fury runs towards you and you frown.

What the hell’s going on?

“GSW. She’s lost at least a pint.” Hill says to the doctor.

“Maybe two.” Sam adds.

“Let me take her.” the doctor says, but Maria stops him.

“She’ll want to see him first.” she says while she leads the way, the doctor helping you carry Natasha.

Hill takes you to a room where you’re all shocked to find Fury lying in a bed, alive.

“About damn time.” he says and you almost cry after hearing his voice.

You all sit down and, as the doctor starts to work on Natasha’s wound next to you, you all listen intently as Fury explains what’s going on.

“Lacerated spinal column,” he ends by listing his injuries “cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache.”

“Don't forget your collapsed lung.” the doctor says from Nat’s other side.

“Oh, let's not forget that.” Fury says sarcastically “Otherwise, I'm good.”

“They cut you open,” Natasha says, you knew she took it hard after all. “your heart stopped.”

“Tetrodotoxin B.” He says like it was obvious. “Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

“Why all the secrecy?” Steve voices what you're all thinking.

“Yeah.” you add, obviously hurt. “Why not just tell us?”

“Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful.” Hill answers for him.

“Can't kill you if you're already dead.” Fury seems amused with himself, then gets more serious. “Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust.”

You try not to take that too personally and, glancing at Natasha, you can tell when she meets your eyes that she's trying to do the same.

Fury gives you guys some time to process everything before you move to a room with a table to start strategizing on how to move forward.

“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize.” Fury says while looking at a picture of a young Pierce. “He said, Peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility. See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues.” He finishes looking at you guys.

“We have to stop the launch.” Natasha says, ignoring Fury’s last remark.

“I don't think the Council's accepting my calls anymore.” He says while opening a case containing three chips.

“What's that?” you and Sam ask at the same time, glancing at each other.

“Once the Helicarriers reach three thousand feet,” Hill says, turning her computer around and showing you “they'll triangulate with Insight satellites becoming fully weaponized.”

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own.” Fury cuts in.

“One or two won't cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational” she hesitates for a moment “a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We need to get past them, insert the server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what's left-” Fury gets cut off by Steve.

“We're not salvaging anything.” he says sharply. “We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We're taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with it.” Fury says defensively.

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends.” Steve has his Captain voice on and you know there's no room for discussion. “SHIELD's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”

“Why do you think we're meeting in this cave? I noticed.” Nobody else says anything, just watching back and forth from Fury to Steve.

“And how many paid the price before you did?”

“Look, I didn't know about Barnes.” Fury says after a moment.

“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?” He's almost glaring now. “SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.”

“He's right.” Hill simply says, nodding.

Fury looks at Natasha, but she simply stares back and he knows he’s not gonna have any help from her, so he turns to you.

“You’re okay with this, Agent?” he asks you and you don’t even have to think twice about it.

“We took an oath to protect people, Fury.” you tell him, holding his gaze. “If taking down Shield does that, and I believe it does, I’m game.” you shrug.

He then turns to the last person in the room.

“Don't look at me.” Sam says, also shrugging. “I do what he does, just slower.”

You grin at him while Fury scoffs a little.

“Well,” He starts, sitting back and sighting, looking at all of you before staring back at Steve. “It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain.”

After you make our plan, Steve goes outside for some air. You and Sam watch him leave, then look at each other, a silent question hanging between you two.

“You go.” you tell him and he nods before following after the supersoldier.

When you turn around you’re met with Fury and Hill’s curious looks and Natasha’s smirking face.

“What?” you say annoyed, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.

“You and Wilson, huh.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Romanoff.” you tell her as you sit back down. “He’s a nice person, you know as well as I do how rare it is to find that in our line of work.” your gaze shifts to the table but you can still feel their gazes on you.

“You couldn’t have known, YN.” Fury says, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes snap up to his, he's never called you by your first name.

“I should’ve, Nick.” you exchange the favor. “All the closed meetings, all the shady attitudes… I should’ve seen it. I’m trained to see it.” you're frustrated with yourself, with all the adrenaline out of your body now you’re left only with guilt.

Surely if you’d have seen it sooner you could’ve done something. Maybe the outcome would’ve been different.

“They tricked all of us.” Nat says, glancing at Fury and resting her hand on your shoulder.

“You’re a good agent,” Hill interjects, “don’t doubt yourself because of those traitors.”

“You’re right.” You nodded after a moment, putting your hand on top of Nat’s on your shoulder and looking back at Fury. “You’re all right.”

As you finish the details of the plan, only one thing is missing.

“How do we get the Director there?” Hill asks after Sam joins you, informing you that Steve went looking for a uniform, whatever that means, and would meet you there.

“Uh, I have an idea.” you says, leaning back in your chair and smirking.

They all suit up and leave after making sure your comms work.

“Be careful.” you hug Natasha before they leave “All of you.” you add looking over her shoulder at Hill that nods and Sam that grins and then winks at you.

You go back to the room where Fury is and he asks, “So where’s our ride?”

“On its way.” you simply say, checking your phone.

You can hear the others through the comms as they meet up with Steve, his own voice coming to your ear as he puts his own earpiece in.

“Where’s Y/N?” he questions the team.

“Awe, you miss me already, Cap?” you say and can hear the other’s laughter.

“You wish.” you can practically hear his eyes rolling.

“I do wish.” you answer, laughing. “I’m with Fury, don’t worry we’ll be there in time.”

You’re both suited up too when you hear loud noises coming from outside, Fury gives you a confused look but you just smile and wiggle your eyebrows playfully as you lead the way to the roof.

A helicopter lands and the pilot gets out and makes his way towards you, shaking your hand before heading downstairs where a car is waiting for him. You make your way to the pilot’s seat and Fury takes the co-pilot’s seat.

“Where did you even get this?” He questions you after putting on the headphones while you start the helicopter, ready for take off.

“You’re not the only one with connections, Director.” you answer, glancing at him with a smile and can hear him laugh next to you.

The whole time you can hear the team’s conversation, everything’s going according to plan thankfully, and nobody’s gotten hurt yet.

Just as you hear Natasha say “don’t worry, company’s coming” to who you assume is Pierce you land the helicopter on the landing pad.

You and Fury make your way inside and Pierce is nothing short of surprised at seeing Fury alive, much to your delight.

“Did you get my flowers?” he says sarcastically and, when Fury only glares at him, he turns his attention to you. “Agent.”

“Asshole.” you greet him with a smile.

“I'm glad you're here, Nick.” he turns his attention back to him.

“Really? Cause I thought you had me killed.”

“You know how the game works.” Pierce says, as calm as a sociopath.

“So why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury has to know.

“Cause you were the best and the most ruthless person I ever met.”

“I did what I did to protect people.”

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder, war. It's just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow, or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action, a band-aid. And you know where I learned that?” He doesn’t give him time to answer, clearly enjoying his evil mastermind speech. “Bogota. You didn't ask, you just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of seven billion people by sacrificing twenty million. It's the next step, Nick, if you have the courage to take it.”

“No,” Fury says, taking Pierce to the retinal scanner, guns on him from both Nat and you “I have the courage not to.”

“Retinal scanner active.” the computer says.

“You don't think we wiped your clearance from the system?” Pierce says smugly.

“I know you erased my password, probably deleted my retinal scan, but if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary,” he takes off his eyepatch to reveal his scarred eye and you grimace. “you need to keep both eyes open.”

They both look into the retinal scanner, with Fury using his injured eye.

“Alpha Level confirmed.” The computer says “Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed.”

You can hear Steve and Sam talking in your ear as you hold Pierce at gunpoint while Nat finishes uploading the files online.

Sam saying to Steve that he’s heavier than he looks makes you smile, Steve answering “I had a big breakfast” makes you almost snort because Sam made him that breakfast, but you stay professional.

You hear Sam apologizing to Steve after being grounded, his suit broken, and then Maria telling Sam that Rumow’s heading your way. Sam says he’s on it and then you hear Steve trying to plead with Bucky before he starts fighting him.

“Done.” Natasha finally says “And it's trending.”

Just then Pierce sets off the pins he gave the council members, causing it to burn a hole into them. You, Natasha and Fury point your guns at Pierce but he turns to Natasha.

“Unless you want a two inch hole in your sternum, I'd put that gun down.” Natasha doesn't back down though “That was armed the moment you pinned it on.”

You all reluctantly lower your weapons.

You can hear Sam saying “Man, shut the hell up” and frown, then you hear him fighting probably with Rumlow and you sincerely hope Sam lands some good punches.

“Lieutenant, how much longer?” Pierce asks into his radio.

“Sixty-five seconds to satellite link. Targeting grid engaged. Lowering weapons array now.” you hear the response.

You hear Hill counting down too. “Thirty seconds, Cap!”

you can hear Steve get out a strangled “Stand by.”

You hear him struggle, then he says “Charlie-” but gets interrupted by a gunshot and you hold your breath, already imagining the worst and barely hearing Pierce talking into his radio.

Just as they’re about to give the order to fire you hear Steve again saying “Charlie locked.” and you feel like all three of you let out a breath of relief at the same time. Although your relief is short lived as you hear Steve telling Maria to fire.

You all look outside as the Helicarriers start going down.

“What a waste.” Pierce says, disgusted at the sight in front of him.

“Are you still on the fence about Rogers' chances?” Nat says as smugly as she can with an active weapon pinned to her chest, but Pierce is having none of it.

“Time to go, Councilwoman.” he grabs her arm “This way, come on. You're gonna fly me out of here.”

“You know, there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you.” Fury tells him as they start to leave.

“You already did.” Pierce glances back at him “You will again when it's useful.” before he can even finish the sentence Natasha activates a small disc that emits an electric shock through her whole body and disables the pin, giving you a chance to kick the phone out of Pierce’s hand while it reboots.

Fury takes this time to pick up a gun and shoots twice at Pierce, then walks over to you as you kneel next to Natasha who’s unconscious on the floor.

“Romanoff!” he says “Natasha!”

“Tasha, come on!” you say desperately.

She slowly opens her eyes. “Ow.” she lets out, before looking up at you two. “Those really do sting.”

You let out a breathless laugh and help her up, glancing back at Pierce dying behind you, a quiet ‘Hail HYDRA’ coming out of his mouth.

You help Natasha into the helicopter, before taking the pilot’s seat again, Fury next to you.

“Please, tell me you got that chopper in the air!” you hear Sam say.

“Sam, where are you?” Natasha asks him as you try to look around for him.

“41st floor, north-west corner!” he sounds like he’s out of breath.

“We're on it, stay where you are.” You say, making your way to him.

“Not an option!” You can hear him pant like he’s running and as you look up you see him jumping out a window, so you tilt the helicopter just enough to allow him to slide in through the door sideways, and then you straighten just as fast, getting out of there just in time as the whole building comes down.

“41st floor! 41st!” Sam yells once he’s caught his breath.

“It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!” You yell back at him while glancing behind you as he glares at you.

“Hill, where's Steve?” Natasha says in the comms “You got a location on Rogers?”

You fly around the wreckage, all of you trying to locate Steve although it feels almost impossible with all the damage left by the Helicarriers.

How can you find him? How could he even be alive after not only that fall, but all of the pieces still falling from the sky? He could’ve been knocked out, he could be at the bottom of the Pontomac, slowly drowning-

“There!” Sam interrupts your pessimistic thoughts as he yells and points at a figure along the shore of the river. “That’s him!”

You land as close as him as you can, running out with Sam beside you, Nat and Fury a little behind. As you get close you see that it is indeed Steve, kudos to Sam for his falcon eyes.

The more you get close the more you worry, he looks bloody and beaten. When you’re finally kneeling next to him, you’re praying that he’s alive.

Sam’s hand flies to his neck and you can tell he lets out a relieved sigh, before turning to you. “He’s got a pulse.” he says and you mirror his action.

You pick him up together and take him to the helicopter, placing him inside while Nat takes the pilot’s seat this time and goes straight to the hospital.

With Steve being in the hospital and Fury being technically dead, the joy of being summoned at a committee hearing falls on you and Natasha. After being sworn in, the Committee General asks the first question.

“Why haven't we yet heard from Captain Rogers?” You and Natasha look at each other and she answers.

“We don't know what there is left for him to say. I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently.”

“Well, he could explain how this country's expected to maintain its national security now that he, and you, have laid waste to our intelligence apparatus.”

“HYDRA was selling you lies, not intelligence.” you interject.

“Many of which you both seem to have had a personal hand in telling.” you hate to admit it but he’s got you there.

“Agents, you should know that there are some on this committee who feel, given your service record, both for this country” Scudder then looks directly at Nat “and against it, that you belong in a penitentiary, not mouthing off on Capitol Hill.” he says and it takes everything in you not to snap at him as you clench your jaw.

Natasha can see it in your face as you look at each other, so she goes ahead and talks first.

“You're not gonna put me in a prison.” her eyes are still on you “You're not gonna put any of us in a prison. You know why?” You know she's asking you to finish her sentence.

“Do enlighten us.”

“Because you need us.” you say without missing a beat, looking away from Natasha and directly into the man’s eyes. “Yes, the world is a vulnerable place, and yes, we help make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it.”

“So if you want to arrest us, arrest us.” Nat says after a pause.

“You'll know where to find us.” you finish.

You both get up and walk out, exchanging a small smile that's quickly hidden for the benefit of the cameras.

A few hours later you and Natasha get to the cemetery just as Fury’s walking away, smirking at each other when you catch the end of his sentence.

“You should be honored, gentlemen.” you say as you get closer.

“That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you.” Natasha finishes for you.

“Not going with him?” Steve asks you as he meets you halfway.

“No.” you both say at the same time.

“Not staying here?” only Natasha answers this time.

“Nah. I blew all my covers,” she glances at you “I gotta go figure out a new one.”

“That might take a while.” he points out.

“I'm counting on it.” She smiles. “That thing you asked for, I called in a few favors from Kiev.” She hands Steve a file. “Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse.”

“She's not a nurse.”

“And you're not a SHIELD agent.” you say and he smiles.

“What was her name again?” he asks.

“Sharon.” Natasha says and you add. “She's nice.”

Natasha kisses Steve on the cheek, hugs you and when she turns to walk away, he looks at you.

“Your face looks better.” you notice. “Well, as good as it can look, considering...” you trail off vaguely motioning to his face with a fake disgusted look and he laughs.

“Yeah, the serum can only do so much.” you laugh too, but then you hear Natasha and you both turn to her.

“Be careful, Steve.” she tells to him “You might not want to pull on that thread.”

And with that, she’s gone.

“You’re not going with Nat?” he asks you as you turn back to him.

“I figured you might need a hand.” you nod to the file in his hand and Steve opens it as Sam walks up to you guys while you steal a glance yourself at the photo of Sergeant Barnes in it.

“You're going after him.” Sam says and it's not a question, it's a statement.

“You don't have to come with me.” He says, his eyes on the file.

“I know.” Sam says, after a moment of silence you finally look away from the photo of 40s Bucky and you see both men looking at you expectantly.

“Chasing a 96 year old brainwashed assassin?” you says, a smile starting to grow on your face “Sounds fun.” you state and Steve nods.

“Really?” Sam deadpans. “What are your weekends like, YLN?”

You only smirk at him in response, then you both turn your attention back to Steve, his eyes back on the file.

“So,” Sam says, “when do we start?”

78 notes · View notes

thesimulationswarm · 9 months

Text

Balsam Prelude and Chapter 1: Some Kind of Noble Calling

This is a story about trauma. What trauma does to a person, and what trauma does to a community. And how, in the midst of it, people find their way to joy, delight— even love.

Pairing: Joel Miller x original female character Summary: After the events of tlou, Joel and Ellie try to establish a “normal life” in Jackson, but neither of them are any good at normal. A town doctor tries to care for residents who have experienced unspeakable trauma, and struggles to overcome her own past at the same time. Joel finds himself drawn to her, as their lives become increasingly intertwined. Meanwhile, outside Jackson, troubling things are happening... Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Word count: 6k Warnings: slow burn, I promise there will be smut but not yet, f/m relationship, not a reader insert, canon-typical violence, descriptions of medical situations, descriptions of trauma and PTSD, Ellie and Joel figuring out how to be family, Tommy and Joel figuring out how to be family, angst, fluff, based on show Jackson because I haven't played tlou part ii, this is the first fic I've been brave enough to put out in the world so be kind.

Series Masterlist

PRELUDE

The boy struggled to work the crowbar; his fingers were so cold he couldn’t really feel them and his grip kept slipping. Finally, though, the old wood splintered around the bolt latch and gave way. He pushed through the door of the shed and fell to the ground inside, spent.

The cold hurt. He was so tired. He’d gone past ordinary hunger, to that desperate place beyond. So now that he was out of the cutting wind, all he wanted was to go to sleep.

Coco had followed him in. She sniffed at the boy’s face, and he felt the warm breath on his skin for a brief, lovely moment. Then she padded away toward the back wall of the small room.

“Come back here, girl,” the boy called out. But she didn’t come back. Was she leaving him now, too? He just wanted to burry his face in her fur and smell her smell as he drifted off. If his father couldn’t be here with him, at least the dog he’d loved could.

He heard a brief, sharp bark. He lifted his head. Coco was sitting by a metal rack on the wall, pointing her nose at something on the second shelf.

“What is it, Coco?” She barked again, still pointing.

He moved slowly, regretfully, as he pulled his aching body up again. She was pointing at an old shoebox, and didn’t stir as he approached.

He brushed the cobwebs away and lifted the lid. It was full of small, dark brown packages. He lifted one close to his face, to examine it in the light coming through the open door.

MEAL, READY TO EAT, INDIVIDUAL, it read. CHICKEN A LA KING.

CHAPTER 1: Some Kind of Noble Calling

“You need to take her to Dr. Conner,” Maria said brusquely, as soon as she’d walked in the room. Ellie was curled listlessly on the couch, face flushed and mottled and hair slicked down with sweat.

“Dr. Conner? Where is he?” Joel asked.

“She is on 2nd street, top of the hill.”

He nodded and looked away from Maria’s icy face. Just what he needed, for her to add sexism to his list of sins. He squatted down to lift Ellie in his arms, held back a groan as his knees popped, and headed toward the door. He was always surprised at how little she weighed, given her sheer force of nature.

“I can walk. I’m not dead yet,” she whined at him hoarsely, squirming against his hold. It was half-hearted, and he kept his grip.

“Not happening.”

Dr. Connor’s was a narrow, two-story building, and the windows were covered with dark curtains. The sign above the door was painted simply with a red cross on a white background. He knocked but didn’t wait, yanking the doorknob and shouldering through the entryway.

Inside was bare, with a row of wooden chairs and a hand-written sign instructing visitors to take a seat. Two doors stood closed, and Joel was eyeing them to determine which he should open next when a breezy voice called from behind one.

“If you’re breathing and not bleeding out, hang on and I’ll be there in five.”

He sighed and set Ellie on a chair before dropping down beside her.

“Nicer than the FEDRA clinics at least,” Ellie deadpanned, her voice creaky and strained.

He looked around the little waiting room. It wasn’t exactly impressive, but if you’d only ever seen a QZ medical facility it must've seemed like the height of luxury.

“There used to be places like this. You got to see the doctor in a room by yourself instead of a big ward with half the neighborhood lined up.” He paused. “It was nice. Especially if you had somethin’ going on you didn’t want to share with everybody you knew.”

She quirked a sweaty eyebrow at him. “Like what?”

“Pass.”

They looked up in unison as a door creaked open and a woman strode in, dressed in jeans and a canvas apron. She was small, tawny-skinned and dark-haired. Younger than he’d expected, although not young-young on second inspection—the start of lines spreading out from the corners of her eyes, a resigned slope of her shoulders. In her 30s, maybe: the last generation to remember life before.

“Please, follow me.” The woman gestured into a small room with a bright overhead light. She pointed Ellie to a cot covered with a faded, flowered sheet and Joel to a stool beside it.

“I’m Nina, I work as a healer,” she said, extending a hand first to Ellie—who limply grasped it—and then to Joel.

He kept his arms down by his side.

“I thought you were an actual doctor,” he said sharply.

He didn’t come here for one of Maria’s communist friends to do some crystal healing, align Ellie’s chakras or some shit.

She gave him a small smile. “People call me that because I’m the closest Jackson has, and I’ve been treating people for years. But no, I’m not old enough to have finished medical school 20 years ago.” Her voice was mild, even friendly, but her eyes asked a question: Are you going to be a problem for me?

He set his jaw but sat back on the stool. He’d at least see if she could help.

“It’s Ellie, isn’t it?” Nina moved closer to Ellie and smiled brightly at her miserable face, looking her up and down. She pulled an old glass thermometer out of a pocket and held it up for Ellie to see before popping it in her mouth. While she waited for it to take a measurement, she slid her other hand down to grasp Ellie’s wrist and held it lightly, watching the numbers on her watch as she felt for a pulse.

“When did she start feeling bad?” She nodded her head slightly in Joel’s direction—Ellie had her mouth full—but kept her eyes on her patient.

“Two days ago. Hit her like a ton of bricks. She’s had fever and chills, and won’t eat anything. Barely takin’ sips of water when I beg her to.”

“Sore throat?”

“Says it feels like knives.” Ellie nodded bleakly to confirm.

The doctor—or the healer, or whatever the hell she was—pulled the thermometer out and nodded at it. She raised both hands to Ellie’s neck, but paused before touching her.

“I’m just going to feel here for your lymph nodes, Ellie.”

She waited to see confirmation in Ellie’s face before continuing, running her hands carefully down below her jawline.

The exam went on, through the familiar steps: Open your mouth as wide as you can, that’s good, now I’m going to check your ears.

He had a sudden, clear memory of sitting in the pediatrician’s office. Watching Sarah as she sat on a paper-covered table.

He could smell the disinfectant and powdered latex, and see the silhouette of her doctor standing there. He was a gray-haired man, always friendly in a fake-feeling way, who whore a crisp white coat over a shirt and tie. Made him feel self-conscious, looking down at his dirt-caked boots and browned forearms.

Sarah used to sit on that exam table and cry when she had to get shots. Not all hysterical or fighting to get away like some kids—just silent tears that slipped out of the corner of her eyes.

He remembered how, when she was five years old, she’d swallowed a penny and he’d rushed her over to the clinic. It wasn’t like her to do something like that: she was thoughtful and sweet even at that age, a rule-follower to a fault. His heart had jackhammered in his chest as he had visions of her intestines puncturing or her being rushed to emergency surgery.

The doc explained patiently that these things usually “passed” on their own. With a little chuckle he gave him a plastic bowl that fit inside the toilet and instructions to check it for the next week to make sure the penny came out the other end.

He recalled the rush of relief and the flush of embarrassment. Watching the doc laugh and feeling like a moron for having gotten himself so worked up.

“Earth to Joel,” Ellie croaked. He turned to see two pairs of eyes on his: Ellie’s red-rimmed and liquid brown, the doctor’s—he was now noticing— so dark they were almost black.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Most likely it’s strep throat, although there’s no way to tell for sure without tests I don’t have,” the doctor said. “I’ll give you some antibiotics, and if it is strep, it will start to get better right away.”

“What if it’s not strep?” Joel asked, heart in his throat.

She smiled. “Then it’s a virus, and she’ll get better on her own.” Her tone was reassuringly confident. Joel watched her disappear briefly out the door, then return with a paper packet she pressed into his hand.

“Take these twice a day. Even if she starts to feel better, do not stop the medicine until it’s all gone. I know we’re all used to stretching supplies, but it doesn’t work that way with antibiotics—she’ll get sick again, and worse.” She looked to him for acknowledgement, and he nodded.

“Keep pushing her to drink fluids.” She turned to Ellie now, who was hunched over and looked about ready to pass out. “You’re dehydrated, kiddo. It’s part of why you feel so bad right now. If you don’t drink, it’s only going to get worse.” She spoke pointedly but gently, and Ellie shrugged an assent. “And if you aren’t feeling better in two days, come back and see me.”

It was late when Tommy got home. Pretty much every part of his body hurt after the day’s work— fixing freeze damage to their well system— and he had been dreaming of crawling into bed with Maria.

Not the way he sometimes dreamed of crawling into bed with her, even now with her looking like she’d swallowed a watermelon. Maybe he’d have the energy for that in the morning, but tonight he just wanted to feel her in his arms and time his deep slow breaths with hers.

She was already fast asleep, so he moved as carefully as he could, lifting up the covers and sidling in behind her. She was curled on her left side and he tucked his body tightly against hers, his arm snaking gently around her bare belly. When he was lucky he could feel the baby kicking against his hand in this position, although right now both baby and mama were at rest.

He lay there, willing himself to relax into sleep. But there was too damn much on his mind these days.

This winter had been brutal, even for Wyoming. The town had held together with a lot of hard work and ingenuity. But out there in the countryside, others had not been so successful. He’d heard awful stories: starvation, cannibalism, raiding parties far and wide. The patrols kept running into trouble, and although so far the groups had been small enough to handle, who was to say they’d stay that way?

Tommy knew that people in Jackson looked to him and Maria to keep them safe. It was more responsibility than he’d ever had before in his life, really. He was proud of himself— and scared shitless.

He breathed in Maria’s smell, nose pressed against the nape of her neck. He tried to count all the blessings in his life, savoring each one. It was a trick he used sometimes, to make his thoughts shut up. This incredible woman who had saved his life. The baby she was growing for them. This town. A full stomach. A warm bed. Joel doing so good, for once, with that kid of his.

Although Joel was maybe not the best topic to think about, if he wanted to sleep tonight. Not that he wasn’t grateful, or happy to have him nearby and safe. But his feelings were complicated. Sometimes he hated to admit how much of a hold his big brother still had on him. Made him feel like a little boy, hungry for approval. And at the same time reminded him of the lowest points in his life.

If he was honest with himself, he’d felt a lot of relief along with the guilt and sadness when he’d left Boston. He’d felt the same when he cut off radio contact.

Something had changed with Joel though, lately. He was still a bitter man, tightly wound and full of pain. But Tommy had seen moments of tenderness from him that he thought he’d never see again. Even moments of joy.

He felt the prickle of tears in his tired eyes. He knew he was being naive, that a little bit of good couldn’t undo all the darkness that they’d been through. But he clung to the hope still, as he started to drift off to sleep: him with his baby, Joel with his girl—maybe they would all be okay.

“Tommy!”

He turned with a smile as the doc walked up, clapping a hand against his back. “Hey Dr. Connor! How’s it been?”

“I’m going on your next southwest patrol,” she said. Announcing, not asking, as she had a frustrating tendency to do.

He took a sharp breath through his nose. “Nina—“

“It’s time to harvest willow bark. I need enough for the next year, for all of Jackson.”

“I understand, I really do. But this winter has been rough and people are desperate. We’ve had some kind of trouble almost every patrol. It’s just too dangerous to stop and hang around out there.” He used the most authoritative tone he could muster, trying to stare the small woman down.

“And people won’t be any less desperate until we’re well into April. By then the trees will be in full leaf and we’ll be out of the window for harvesting. And I’ll have half a dozen angry locals wanting to know why I don’t have the tea for their arthritis or their heart condition.”

She fixed him with a dark stare, and he fiddled with the frayed edge of his jacket cuff.

She knew how Jackson worked, and if he said no she could and would bring it up at the council meeting. Where she would no doubt whip up the town’s crotchetiest and most infirm—who had nothing better to do than sit in on every meeting of every committee—into a rage over herbal tea. Shit.

He nodded curtly. “Friday at dawn. If there are any signs of trouble before we hit the riverbank, we’ll have to turn back.”

“I really appreciate it Tommy,” she said with what she surely thought was a winning smile. Which he did not return: he was not in the mood.

Marisa stirred the stockpot of oatmeal gently between customers, to keep crust from forming on top. She stared out at the dining room and watched the clusters of people. Some were deep in conversation; some wolfed down their breakfasts so they could hurry on with their days; others looked half-asleep still.

A group of teenagers were tucked way back in the corner, as far as they could get from the adults, clearly enjoying their morning bullshit session. She remembered doing that just a few years ago, with Anya and Jamal, when her dad wasn’t around to see her goofing off. He believed that if teenagers had energy to run their jaws, they had energy to work.

The new folks came in with a blast of cold air.

They were an odd pair. The girl was rude and mouthed off too much, but she had a lot of energy and seemed like fun. The kind of kid Marisa had always been fascinated by, when she was that age. Wishing she could move in the world with that kind of confidence.

The man, though, gave her the willies. He was intense and stern, like her dad. He never smiled, although he did at least say please and thank you. She couldn’t hardly believe he was Tommy’s brother. Tommy was his exact opposite, gentle and friendly.

She used to think Tommy was cute. She still did, really, but she didn’t think about him much lately. She was too busy daydreaming about her Beloved.

She called him that after an old romance book she’d found in an empty house and hidden under her mattress. The book took place during the Civil War, and the buxom narrator fell in love with a dashing soldier. She wrote letters to him every day, addressed to My Beloved. The soldier in the book had beautiful blue eyes, just like Marisa’s Beloved.

Tommy was out there now, talking with Dr. Connor. He looked unhappy. Dr. Connor could do that to people. She was always so nice when you were sick or hurt and went to see her. But out in the real world she could be mean as a snake. Or maybe she was more like a fox: someone sly, someone you had to watch.

Brandy Burkholder had started working with her last summer, after a several month campaign. Nina had eventually determined that she was serious about learning to practice medicine, despite the fact that she wasn’t terribly serious about anything else. She was an outgoing sixteen-year-old with a pretty smile and a flare for the dramatic, and she came by on Tuesdays and Thursdays to help Nina with various tasks.

Today it was supply inventory. Every other week she went through what she had, checked her levels on common medications and herbs, and looked through her equipment for signs of damage or wear.

Nina enjoyed inventory, even if what she had to inventory was often pathetic. There was something calming about lining up all the bottles, looking over her orderly shelves, and counting all the pills and needles and rolls of gauze.

And there was some extra excitement this afternoon: they were going through a bag of random medicines and gear to see what could be salvaged. Anya and Clemons had found in an empty house on a hunting trip earlier that week.

Brandy held up an orange plastic bottle of pills from the haul. “Dox—y—cy—cline,” she sounded out carefully. “That’s an antibiotic, right? So it goes in the cabinet above the sink?”

“Hold up. What’s the date on the bottle?”

“Um, let me see.” She squinted to read the fading print. “Damn. It’s from 1999. This is an antique!”

Nina shook her head. “Toss it. Expired tetracyclines can be toxic.” It was a shame— she really could have used it.

She pulled out a bottle of Benadryl tablets, and pried open the lid. Some of the pills had swollen with absorbed moisture and cracked, but they were mostly intact and there was no mold. She added it to the keep pile.

Brandy showed her a box of individually packaged 22 gauge needles. The plastic wrappers were warped and brittle and had cracked open along the seams. But the needles inside were straight and sharp. She would sanitize them in the autoclave and they’d be good as new. Another keep.

A bottle of cough syrup had hardened to a shiny paste— toss. Two inhalers were empty—toss again. Half a tub of vaseline went in the keep pile. Then she found something really good at the bottom of the bag: an almost-full bottle of Valium.

“Isn’t this the stuff that bored housewives used to get high on?” Brandy asked, smirking.

“Yes, and that’s why it goes in the locked cabinet,” Nina said pointedly. She didn’t need Brandy getting any ideas. “But more importantly, it’s the best treatment when someone’s actively having a seizure. It’s also very helpful for setting bones.”

“Sweet! There was some good loot in that bag.”

Nina looked over the shelves appraisingly. “Yes, but it’s not enough. This all has to last until Mo comes by in April.”

“Are you going out to meet him?” Brandy’s eyes sparkled at the mention of the smuggler. Nina knew how people talked about him: the dashing Robin Hood who stole from FEDRA and gave to the people. But it’s not like he gave them anything: they paid him, in valuable farm goods like butter and honey, for every last thing.

Nina didn’t say anything about that to Brandy, though; let the kid have her fantasies. She also didn’t mention the fear that kept her up at night— that next time she went out to meet Mo, he wouldn’t show. She knew it was only a matter of time before his line of work caught up with him, and that when it happened they would be shit out of luck. Jackson did a lot of things well, but manufacturing antibiotics wasn’t one of them.

“Yep, April ninth. Three weeks after the equinox,” was all she said.

The sun was melting into the horizon, bathing the street in golden light and purple shadows. Joel was walking to the saddler when he saw the woman up ahead and quickened his pace.

“Hey! Dr. Connor!”

She turned as he approached and raised an eyebrow. “So I’m enough of a doctor for you now? How’s Ellie?”

“Well, she’s a hundred percent better. Givin’ me shit and drivin’ me crazy.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” The doctor seemed genuinely pleased. “I’m sure you deserve whatever shit she’s giving you,” she added.

“Look,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I wasn’t very fair to you the other day. And you helped us out anyway. I appreciate that.”

She looked at him, meeting his eyes with an intensity that startled him. There were those deep brown irises he’d noticed in her office, framed by thick black lashes.

Then she smiled, holding out her hand to him. Her grip was surprisingly firm as they shook. “You’re not the first person to doubt my expertise. I appreciate you putting your daughter in my care.”

He looked over her shoulder, at the reddish sky reflecting in the window of a supply depot, and took a breath. “I know people don’t pay for things here or anything, but I feel like—I mean, I would like to give you something at least. For the medicine.”

She waved dismissively. “I’ve seen you go out on patrol. You keep Jackson safe, I keep Jackson alive. We all do our part.”

She laid a hand on his stiff shoulder and gave him a pat. Then she turned and headed back in the direction she’d been walking, before he could figure out how he ought to respond. He watched her for a moment, her dark curls swinging over a denim jacket, his shoulder tingling with a phantom pressure where her hand had been a moment ago.

Jackson made him real fucking uncomfortable, sometimes.

He didn’t like owing people favors, and he didn’t feel like he belonged in a town where everyone was so nice all the time. The doctor was case in point— he’d been mean to her when they’d first met, and that hadn’t been right. But he’d tried to be nice to her too now, and it still felt weird as hell. Maybe he’d entirely forgotten how to be nice.

He walked on, hands shoved in his pockets. If he was honest, he didn’t want to be living here. In the house across from his little brother, like some kind of post-apocalyptic sitcom. It brought back all kinds of things he didn’t want to think about.

He was going on patrol Friday and he was looking forward to it. At least out there he knew what to do with himself. Stay alert, keep moving, assess the situation, maintain control— with force if needed.

Ellie looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then quickly opened the door below the red cross and slipped inside. She sighed with relief to see no one inside the waiting room, and sat down with her backpack clutched to her chest.

Dr. Connor stepped into the room, thankfully alone, and smiled warmly as she pointed Ellie toward a door. Ellie darted in and jumped up on the cot, then looked down at her sneakers. One had a bit of rubber starting to come loose around the toe, and she gently wiggled it with her other foot. She heard Dr. Connor close the door behind her, and then the expectant silence.

“How can I help you today, Ellie?”

Her cheeks burned, and she found she couldn’t look up. Why did the town doctor have to be beautiful? For an old person, but still. She kept studying her feet, as she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled over and the soft thump of Dr. Connor sitting down a few feet away.

When the doctor spoke again, her voice was soft. “I’ll ask you a few questions. All you have to do is say yes or no. You don’t even have to speak, just shake your head. Okay?” Ellie exhaled, then nodded.

“Did someone hurt you?” Ellie shook her head no emphatically.

“Are you having a problem with a private part of your body?” Ellie paused, then nodded once.

“Is it your related to your period?” Head shake. “Are you having pain?” Head shake. “Itchiness?” Nod. “Discharge?” Ellie felt like her cheeks were going to catch on fire as she nodded again.

“Are you sexually active?”

“No!” Ellie shouted, looking up at Dr. Connor with a startled stare.

“It would be okay if you were. You wouldn’t be in trouble. And I wouldn’t tell anyone—not even Joel.” Her voice was even and conversational, as if she were talking about the weather and not about fucking.

“Well, I’m not,” she snapped. “I don’t know why this is happening. It’s never done this before.”

“Have you ever taken antibiotics before?”

She thought for a moment. At FEDRA school they gave you pills sometimes if you were sick, but they never even told you what they were. Some of the kids said they were sugar pills, and some of the kids said they were tranquilizers designed to make you behave. She shrugged. “I don’t actually know.”

“Did your symptoms start after you began taking the pills?” Ellie nodded.

“I’ll want to do a quick exam to be sure, but yeast infections can be a side effect of antibiotics. Your vulva actually has a lot of bacteria living in it—good bacteria.” Ellie raised her eyebrows and fixed the doctor with a horrified look, but she ignored her and went on speaking.

“It’s like a garden with lots of different plants growing side by side. The plants are healthy, and there are enough of them that they fill up the space and keep the weeds out. The antibiotic got rid of the bad bacteria in your throat, but it also wiped out the good bacteria in your vulva. It’s like we picked all the good stuff from that garden, and now there’s good soil and plenty of space for bad stuff to grow. That’s allowed the yeast to take over—it’s actually a fungus.”

“Like cordyceps?” Ellie asked, eyes widening.

“Yes, like cordyceps. But it’s a different species, and unlike cordyceps we have medication that will kill the yeast. You’ll be back to normal in no time.” Ellie felt relief wash over her.

Wednesday morning was for house calls. As she left the dining hall, her supply bag bouncing heavily against her left hip, she ran into Ellie and Joel on their way in. The girl smiled sheepishly and looked away; the man twitched a corner of his mouth and held the door for her. Which for gruff types like that, new to civilization, was as good as a pledge of everlasting fealty.

She watched her breath fog through the cold March morning as she walked, feeling vaguely anxious.

Miss Nora’s house was on the corner, a low redbrick ranch. She let herself in, knowing Miss Nora’s son was out prepping the fields for planting, and headed into the living room that doubled as Miss Nora’s bedroom these days. She was sitting up in her bed, carefully knitting a big orange sweater. “Dr. Connor! So good of you to come by.”

Nina leaned in, letting Miss Nora plant a papery kiss on her cheek. “You know you can call me Nina,” she said, pulling her stethoscope out of her bag and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

She gave her brightest smile, trying to hide any trace of the dismay she felt every time she walked in there. Miss Nora was 67, and until last fall had looked a decade younger than that. Now every week she seems to age another 5 years, her face growing gaunter, her hair thinner, her skin more sallow.

Her son Jamal, ever diligent, tried to tempt her with all her favorite foods, but she would push the plate away after a bite or two. He fought with her over it, convinced that if she would just force herself to eat she would regain her strength.

Nina, on the other hand, was not so optimistic. She thought Miss Nora’s body was shutting down: the lack of appetite was only a symptom of something much more serious.

She suspected cancer, but couldn’t say for sure what kind. Obviously, it was affecting the liver or the common bile duct, based on her yellowing eyes and skin. But that could be a metastasis from a solid tumor somewhere else. She once again felt the woman’s abdomen gently, palpating for a mass. Still nothing. Not that it mattered, ultimately—even if she could magically intuit that it was, say, pancreatic cancer, she wouldn’t be any closer to being able to treat it.

At least her lungs still sounded clear. Nina pulled the stethoscope from her ears and slung it around her neck. “Are you ready for your breathing treatment?”

The woman nodded enthusiastically as Nina carefully packed the pipe she’d brought with dried leaves.

It was old, crumbly, and low quality, and it was hell to get ahold of. But like the opium she kept carefully hidden away in her locked cabinet, marijuana was one of the more potent herbal medicines in her arsenal.

She had nothing else to offer Miss Nora.

She saved Maria for her last stop of the morning. Maria could have easily come to her clinic, even 7 months along, but Nina wanted to confer with her anyways. And she loved Maria’s house—with the late morning light pouring through the windows she could almost believe she was in the suburbs of her childhood.

Maria was making tea when she arrived, and they sat in the living room with a mug each. The steam felt good against her face—while they were out of the worst of the winter, the wind was still brutal on these mornings as she walked from house to house.

After a little small talk she eased Maria backwards on the couch and pulled out her Pinard horn, rolling it between her palms for warmth. Nina had carved it herself out of maple wood, shaping the little trumpet painstakingly to match the illustrations in an old midwifery book.

She could still remember the sense of triumph when, years ago, she first pressed it into a woman’s belly and heard the fetal heartbeat buried inside. People thought medicine was some kind of noble calling—and there were moments when it felt that way to her, too. But more often she was driven by that magic feeling of the body yielding up its secrets to her.

Everything looked good on the exam, despite Maria’s “advanced maternal age.” The same as it had been every week of her pregnancy so far.

Still, Nina worried.

There was a lot that could go wrong bringing a baby into the world, for both baby and mother. Maria was her friend, and she knew how devastated she would be if she lost the child. She also knew how much Maria meant to Jackson, and she worried about the impact of losing Maria even more.

“I’d like your thoughts on something.”

Maria fixed her with one of her looks. “It’s usually not something good when you say that.”

Nina sighed. “I had a patient come in yesterday with what was almost certainly the clap. I treated him, but the man in question was married, and I have reason to believe he didn’t get it from his wife.”

Maria’s brow shot up. “Jesus, Nina. That’s not something I want to know about.”

“I would rather not have to know about it either. But we need to know about it. Both women he’s sleeping with could have infections.”

Maria’s expression hardened as she listened.

“And if the women have other partners, who knows how many people in Jackson are affected? Gonorrhea isn’t just a drippy dick. People could have pelvic inflammatory disease, ectopic pregnancies, miscarriages. Babies can be born with infections.”

“Do you know who the other woman is? You could treat her, too,” Maria offered.

“I… have my suspicions. But I’m not 100%. And he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

She thought about Derek Starkey sitting in her clinic, head buried in his hands. Starkey’s wife, Jenna, had given birth to their first kid last summer. They’d always made a beautiful couple: Starkey was a big guy, tall and broad, with ruddy cheeks and icy blue eyes. Jenna was tough and sweet, with a blonde ponytail and freckles across the bridge of her nose. The son they doted on took after them both, depending on the day.

She was inclined to hate Starkey’s guts.

A guy who couldn’t take it when his wife wasn’t dressing up as prettily as she used to or wasn’t as available as she once was to him, because she was busy caring for his infant child. Marisa Robinson, who worked with Starkey in the kitchens when he wasn’t on patrol, was younger and needy and made puppy dog eyes at him while he kneaded dough with his big strong arms. It was a tale as old as time: another shitty man behaves badly.

She struggled to hold onto her resolve, though, as they spoke. Starkey’d been barely sleeping since the kid was born. Every night in bed he was flooded with images of terrible deaths. He saw his child infected, shot, decapitated, drowned. All those monstrous things he’d seen over the years and had been powerless to stop, and which he now felt powerless to protect his beautiful boy from. Life in Jackson had given him a measure of peace, which had seemed like enough when it was just him and Jenna. But it felt too horribly tenuous now to trust. And Jenna didn’t get it. She slept like a rock between feedings. She told him to get over himself, had no time to talk him down from his panic attacks. Someone else had been willing to hold him while he shook with fear.

“Then we have to tell the wife, at least.”

Nina shook her head. “I keep going back and forth on it. It might break up a marriage, and that could have reverberations throughout the community. And the other woman, there could be consequences for her, too.” She thought of Marisa’s controlling father, who always creeped her out.

“But also the next time someone has symptoms like this they might not come to me, because I wouldn’t be a safe person to tell. Then this stuff would spread around town and we wouldn’t even know.”

Maria gave her an exasperated look.

Nina wasn’t sure what she had expected. It would feel so nice to off-load this problem onto Maria. But her friend was maybe too absolutist to navigate this one. Or else there just was no way to resolve things that would feel right.

“I’m going to have to think on it some more,” she said, as she packed her supplies. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x original character #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #Ellie Williams #Tommy Miller #Maria Miller #soft!joel miller #series #tlou fluff #tlou show #tlou

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prolix-yuy · 11 months

Note

I got blowjob - maybe giving patrol partner joel a blowjob because he’s super stressed out 👀

Ooooh, this was a tricky one for me! I adored TLOU, but Joel hasn't manifested for me in fic just yet. You gave me a good challenge to see what I can make of this!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Position: Blowjob

Word Count: 1147

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, blowjob, canonical violence, angst.

Notes: This was a toughie for me, but I enjoyed playing with voice and seeing where Joel would lead me! I hope you enjoy!

The tension wafts off him like forest rot, thick and cloying. Every step is well placed, cautious, and thrumming. You can tell if a twig snaps he’ll be gone, a cartoonish plume of smoke and twin flaming treads all that’s left. After yesterday, you don’t blame him.

Ellie finally convinced him to let her patrol, a little miffed that he chose the quietest paths but grinning ear to ear nonetheless. You smiled at their departure, heading out with Jacob on your own perimeter. Jackson was quiet most days. The last infected you had in your sights was barely a body anymore, and nothing once your rifle evaporated it back to the spores it came. You expected an ecstatic retelling in the cafeteria, an exasperated Joel sat further from the ruckus.

Instead, you returned with a few bug bites to chaos.

A sinkhole had opened up on patrol, a handful of ancient runners clawing through the loamy soil. The horses were quick, but Ellie’s got spooked and threw her. Joel made quick work of the infected, but not before one pinned her, rotted teeth snapping just inches from her face. There was still blood clinging to strands of her hair when they barreled back into town.

The timeline from that to now was loud, obvious in its path. Shouts that reached the street. A teenager storming off. Low voices in the cafeteria. A request, easily accepted.

So today, it’s you, not her, that wanders the hills and trees around Jackson with a wound-up Joel watching every shadow. Flattering yourself imagining you’re the reason why he’s on edge, you dash away the fantasy before it takes root.

Your relationship with Joel is tenuous at best. Cordial, polite, friendlier in recent months. A handful of times, very friendly. He liked your discretion, and that you didn’t ask him to stay. You liked how easily he seemed to find ways to make you scream into your pillow. Mutually beneficial, and something that doesn’t exist in the light of day. But all you need is trust, and you did trust Joel. Surprisingly, he also seems to trust you.

“How’s Ellie?” you finally ask after an hour’s silence stretches between you. His pace doesn’t falter, but you see the muscles in his jaw tick.

“A teenager. Mad at me and everything that’s shit around her. The usual.”

You nod, peering down a ravine to spot any movement in the underbrush. Your horse was ready to foal any day, so Callus had to shoulder both your weights on this trip. You’d taken to walking to save his back, but the turning point was soon. He nickers as you approach.

“Must have been scary. It’s good you were with her,” you say, tightening straps to let Joel contemplate your words without attention.

“Sometimes I forget it’s still hell out there,” he murmurs finally, boosting you into the saddle. “It’s so quiet in town, it’s easy.” Heaving himself up behind you, he settles to let you lead. “After that…it’s hard to forget again.”

You let the ride home remain in silence, the comfort of Joel’s wide bulk still wracked through with tension. He’s right to be wary, to not forget anything could shatter the world you all live in now. If you hadn’t shot down a clicker closing in on Maria you would still be out there, her offer of shelter a dream your weary body couldn’t refuse. But now, with your belly full most nights and a bed that is occasionally warmed by more than just you, it’s possible to plan a future, and let dangerous hope grow strong in your chest.

Pulling Callus into the stables, you watch Joel go about the mindless tasks of tacking up the horses. His eyes are far away, movements sharp and jerky. Laying blankets out to dry and finishing up the stabling, you wonder how to reach out a hand to comfort a man who will barely let you look at him with fondness.

Joel is washing up at a trough, sleeves rolled over his forearms and mopping a wet cloth across his face. He’s worrying at the dirt beneath his nails, in the cracks of his hands, his lower lip gnashing between his teeth. You know that look, one that has haunted your face many a day.

Distraction, you think. It’s all you can give him. Maybe he’ll even accept it.

“Joel,” you say quietly, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. The stables are quiet this time of day, sun starting to color the sky tangerine. He turns to look absentmindedly but before he can react you sink to your knees, hands on his hips. You open his belt deftly, pulling down his jean zipper and tugging the fabric of his boxers just enough to let his cock spring free. A hot breath against his curls has him hardening quickly, a punched-out groan echoing through the tall ceiling. Stroking along his length, you place a kiss at the tip before sucking him into your mouth.

“Darlin’, holy hell, wait…” Joel protests, hands clamping on your shoulders, but his next words dissolve into a groan as you bob your head, lips tight on his cock. His musk is tantalizing, warring against the strong scent of hay and horse surrounding you. Circling the base with your fingers, you coax thick drops of precum onto your tongue, driving him further and further into the wet heat of your mouth. It’s the best you can do. It’s all you have to offer that he’ll accept.

“Fuck, stop, stop,” he snaps, pulling back sharply from your mouth. Your lips leave him with a pop, shiny and swollen, as you fix your eyes on his hands yanking his pants back up and cursing.

‘I’m sorry,” you whisper, dread settling like an old friend in your stomach. You can’t even give him a moment of bliss. “I…I’m sorry, that’s was…I shouldn’t have done that, I didn’t mean to…”

Suddenly Joel’s hands are on your face, coaxing you to stand again. You fight not to meet his eyes but he holds you so long you’re forced to. In those dark depths is a war that you cannot enlist in, a battle of desire and shame and duty and self-sacrifice that you cannot even skim the surface of.

“You’re too good to be doing that to…someone like me,” he rasps quietly, the brush of his thumb more sentimental than any way he’s touched you. A glow fills your chest, bringing a hand up to cover his.

“I could do much more with someone like you,” you say, every word a battle against your own self-preservation. Joel takes his hands off you, your resignation carefully buried. He strides out of the stables, but not before pausing to say one word to you.

“Maybe.”

In your heart, you hear two words.

Maybe someday.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #prolix fics

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softpascalito · 6 months

Text

Traditions - Pedro Pascal Characters Headcanons

Summary: Which tradition do the Pedro boys enjoy? I have thoughts.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader, Javier Peña x F!Reader, Dieter Bravo x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader Tags/Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-Descriptive Smut, Headcanons

notes: excited to post the first of a few hcs to come this month! i hope you enjoy <3

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Joel Miller

Joel may not show it but he actually likes Christmas traditions. It can't be anything too big or fancy but there's a few small things he remembers about Christmas in his own childhood that he continues with Sarah and later with Ellie.

After the outbreak, he doesn't celebrate. Not just Christmas, he doesn't celebrate anything for years. By the time his first Christmas with Ellie rolls around, he is already badly injured. He doesn't even realize it's Christmas Eve.

The next year, with both of them living safely in Jackson, he makes up for it best he can, agreeing to join a Christmas dinner hosted by Tommy and Maria.

You've met before but this is one of the first occasions where you begin talking. It's only months later that you realize you may not have been seated next to each other by accident.

Tommy and Joel contribute to the night with a tradition from their childhood. After dinner, they bring out Luminarias, handmade Christmas lanterns that they've evidently prepared in secret. The other lights are dimmed and the entire house is bathed in soft, orange light.

He ends up on an armchair by the window with you perched on the armrest and you both sip your drinks in the dim light while the other guests slowly file out. Joel swears that it cements the lights as his favorite tradition.

Javier Peña

Christmas, for Javi, usually means a trip back home to meet the family. Born and raised in Texas, it's one of the most important parts of Christmas: Everyone being together, despite their differences.

Colombia and the cartel case are a welcome excuse to not take part in the family gatherings. Every time he does visit Laredo, which only totals to three times during his time in Bogotá, he can't stand the way people look at him.

When he goes back after Cali, he doesn't even make it through half of the gathering. There have been too many drinks emptied and too many questions asked and he is back in his truck before anyone can notice he's disappeared.

Four years later marks the first time he does show up for Christmas again, with you by his side and proudly showing off the noticeable bump under your sundress.

You think he's joking when he whispers to you that night, explaining that his new favorite Christmas tradition is keeping you stuffed and spending all of Christmas Eve next to the tree, hands caressing your stomach to feel for movement from his baby

He isn’t joking. Three years in a row, the timing aligns perfectly and like clockwork, a baby is born every spring. It's definitely not the worst tradition you can think of.

After a satisfying number of babies however, the tradition shifts back to its origin: Gatherings with the whole family. And you have quite the family to show off with three little ones and Javi by your side.

Dieter Bravo

Dieter loves having you over for Christmas at his house in the Hollywood Hills. It starts innocently enough, with Covid ruining plans for any other possible get-together.

He orders enough food to last for days, rolls a generous joint for you to share and puts on a Hallmark Christmas movie for giggles.

It ends up getting you both in the feels, despite ticking off every possible cliché. By the time the credits roll around, Dieter's body is pressed against yours, both of you sinking back into the fluffy couch pillows.

The next three days are an intangible mess made up of cheese, weed and sex. In no particular order.

For once, no agent calling disturbs the bubble the two of you have created for yourselves and when New Year's rolls around, you both vow to repeat the same kind of Christmas next year.

Din Djarin

Din doesn't really know or celebrate Christmas until you and Grogu come along. When you start decorating and making a few purchases, he grumbles slightly but lets you go through with it.

To your (and his) surprise, he doesn't hate the decorating. It's a nice change of pace to just sit for a while, make chains of popcorn and dried fruits and watch the child play with a few of the Christmas decorations while you consider the best spot for the tree.

Din does help with all that you can't reach and with securing everything so that your whole work won't be ruined the second the ship takes off.

It's dark outside when you are finally done, Grogu napping below the tree after wearing himself out. Din lifts you onto his shoulders almost effortlessly, allowing you to place the golden star on top of the tree while he watches.

You light the tree together afterwards, the twinkling lights reflecting in his beskar armor, multiplying the light by what seems to be a million and it makes your knees weak.

Every following year, a beautiful tree decorates your living quarters. You both pretend it's something you only do for Grogu. You both know it's not.

77 notes · View notes

soulgazingwithbucky · 1 year

Text

Chances (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent!F!Reader

Summary: For most, life is too short to miss any chances. For Steve Rogers, life is too long to take all of them.

Warnings: swearing; mentions of blood, gun use, violence; unhappy ending (alternate ending needed?!)

Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: hey everyone i have a crush i cant do anything about so i made it everyone's problem in the form of this fic. also i swear bucky's coming back to my writing with a vengeance

“Coulson, slow down,” you grumble. The clock reads an ungodly hour, and Coulson’s near-incomprehensible speech only propels you further into half-conscious annoyance.

“Get up,” Phil urges. “We found him.”

⋆⋆⋆

You lean in, ears straining as Captain America addresses Agent Horowitz.

“Where am I, really?” he says.

Your eyes dart back and forth between several screens.

“Shit,” Fury hisses. A moment later, you hear the door slam behind you.

“Told you!” you call after him as Horowitz reports a Code 13.

You turn around to look at Hill, who watches the monitors with her arms across her chest.

“I told him,” you say as Captain America breaks through the walls, shoving agents to the ground.

⋆⋆⋆

Fury takes a seat beside you with a huff.

With your eyes on your computer, you start, “I–”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

Maria peers at you over her screen, flashing you a barely-there smirk. You instead ask a question to satiate your curiosity.

“Is…he okay?”

Fury gives an exasperated shrug.

“Said he had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

“How’s the apartment, Captain Rogers?” Fury asks. Across the desk, Steve sits, shifting uncomfortably as the chair struggles under his frame.

“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes flitting between all the different objects in Fury’s office. You and Maria share a look.

“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asks.

“Trying.”

“Well, we have another meeting to run to, Captain,” Fury says, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The agents have a gym in the basement, and the dining facility is on the tenth floor.”

He stands up; you and Maria follow closely behind.

There’s no meeting. You had planned to spend an hour with Captain Rogers, but it’s clear there isn’t much to say. You look back at Steve with his head low, his back hunched.

“What do we do, Fury?” you ask, closing the door behind you.

“Give him time.”

While Hill and Fury retreat to their offices, you change into your workout clothes and make your way to the basement. You’re surprised to step out of the elevator and see an impossibly muscular frame standing by the gym entrance.

“Captain,” you greet. He’s peering past the glass with a slight grimace, staring at the equipment–fancy, shiny things with a thousand buttons each.

“Agent,” he responds, replacing his uncomfortable expression with a solemn nod.

“Nice, isn’t it?” you say, standing beside him to observe the room together.

He chuckles, more out of astonishment than anything.

“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes shift downwards at his feet before peering back up, watching your coworkers sprint on the treadmill or re-rack their weights. “It’s something.”

“What are you gonna do?” you say, eyeing the leg press machine that’s calling your name. You look over at Steve just as he glances at the punching bag. He opens his mouth to answer you, but then he notices the odd wires coming from behind the bag, the complicated mat beneath that seems to be flashing at least five different colors. He closes his mouth and instead shakes his head.

“Just giving myself a tour,” he answers.

You tilt your head at his fib.

“You got a minute?” you ask, your request earning a raised eyebrow.

⋆⋆⋆

“Migs!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up at the sight of the combat gym owner.

He yells your name in response as you meet in front of his business’s entrance.

“Appreciate it, Migs,” you say as the older gentleman pulls you into a side hug. You wrap your arm around his back, returning the embrace.

“Anything for you, kiddo,” Miguel, a near-father figure who has a few decades on you, responds as he unlocks the gym door.

Behind you, Steve smiles at the friendly exchange. He stays a good distance away, partly out of respect and partly out of caution.

Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the man built like a linebacker with striking movie-star looks.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Miguel demands, gesturing at the hero in the shadows. Steve blinks in surprise. In the past few weeks, he has been the center of attention–not unlike his life before the ice, but somehow completely unlike it at the same time. Despite his longing to be invisible once again, he’s taken aback that someone doesn’t recognize him.

“A friend,” you tell him, shooting Steve a wink. He smiles, welcoming the anonymity.

Miguel turns on the lights, illuminating the gym in dim orange. Steve steps in, admiring the weathered facility. Surrounded by muted walls, a dusty floor, and tattered boxing ropes, he feels a sense of comfort that’s completely novel to him since coming out of the ice.

Miguel takes all of thirty seconds to show the captain around.

“We got mitts, gloves on the rack over there,” he says, keys jingling as he gestures around him. “Boxing ring with a round timer, obviously. Uhhhh, jump ropes, elliptical–if it’s working. And then you got the bags…Oh, and we also got one-on-one training-” Miguel pauses, scanning Steve from head to toe “-if you need that sorta thing.”

Steve chuckles, murmuring his gratitude.

“You need anything else, ace?” Miguel asks you.

You shake your head. “Just sign up my friend for a membership, and we’ll be good.”

Steve’s head snaps up at your request. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

As Miguel passes you an application on a clipboard, you say, “Good thing you didn’t ask.”

⋆⋆⋆

“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Steve tells you, gesturing for the waiter as you slide into the booth.

“Not at all,” you say, still catching your breath from hurrying over. You’re not sure why the captain has called you, but you know it has to be important. Steve’s eyes drift to your brow, where a butterfly bandage holds a wound closed.

“That Loki’s a fun one,” you say, bringing a hand to the injury. You don’t feel the need to indulge him in the details of nearly getting buried underneath a collapsing building. “Is everything okay, Captain?”

“Steve, please,” he insists.

“Is everything okay…Steve?” Though you’ve seen the captain’s name printed in briefs and articles a million times, it feels odd to address him by name. “Miguel didn’t try to charge you that ridiculous sweating fee?”

He lets out an amused exhale through his nose and shakes his head.

“It’s funny you mention Loki. I…wanted to ask your opinion. On the Avengers Initiative.”

Surprise paints your face. You weren’t expecting to be Captain America’s advisor tonight. But you lean back and sigh with the weight of his request. Your waiter comes to take your order, giving you a few moments of reprieve.

“I know what Fury would want me to say,” you say after your waiter exits.

He leans forward, resting clasped hands on the table.

“I want to know what you want to say,” he implores, his piercing gaze making it difficult to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath.

“I think…you need time to heal,” you begin. “To recover. I mean, not like I’ve got the experience, but something tells me you don’t wake up after seventy years fully assimilated. In a perfect world, you would get all the time you need to be okay before getting back out into the world, let alone saving it.”

He knows the answer, but he presses, “And what world is this?”

The words feel heavy on your tongue.

“One that needs you.”

You watch his troubled eyes, the twitch of his lip.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” you say.

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself.

He looks up at you, repeating: “Yeah. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

“Glad I could help,” you say. You peek over his head, trying to peer into the kitchen. Steve nudges his plate towards you, and you gratefully take a few of his fries.

⋆⋆⋆

“Dillard, find out what’s going on in Bay 3 for me. So what do you think?”

The upper half of your body is hidden under thick pipes. You peer closely at the maze of metal, willing the leak to show itself.

“He’s…cute.”

You lift your head to look at Nat. The loud bang echoes throughout the room as your head meets pipes. You wince, dragging yourself out of the underbelly of Helicarrier plumbing. Nat raises an eyebrow as you rub your head.

“Not what I thought you were going to say,” you reply.

“So you disagree?” she says, tilting her head.

“Uh. No?” you say, tapping nervously on the wrench. She smiles as you avert your gaze. “How are the…other ones? Thor and Dr. Banner and the rest?”

“I should probably make sure they’re not tearing each other apart,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “You coming?”

You look around you. The hull is so much quieter than the rest of the carrier, allowing you to bask in comfortable silence while you and your crew work.

“Nah. Hill is better at that kinda stuff. I’ll be here if you need me.”

⋆⋆⋆

Above you, the ceiling shakes slightly, scattering dust around you. You stand up slowly, the sound of distant rumbling calling your attention.

“All hands to stations.”

“Shit!” you cry, dropping your tools and sprinting up the stairs.

Agents are running all around you, and the hallway is flooded in flashing red. You have no idea what’s going on, but you rush to the weapons room, ready to defend the Helicarrier from god-knows-what.

You crash into someone’s shoulder, the force sending you spinning to the ground. Strong hands grasp your arms, lifting you to your feet.

“Sorry,” Steve says between breaths.

“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”

“Under attack. Be safe. Check in later.”

“Copy that.”

He clasps your shoulders again before disappearing into the crowd of agents. You watch him for a second before turning around, continuing on to the weapons room.

Agent Weaver catches up to you.

“First name basis, huh?”

“Shut up.”

⋆⋆⋆

You hesitate before rapping on the door three times.

Steve greets you with a smile. Beads of water are dripping from his hair down his neck. He’s in sweatpants and a white tee that could definitely be sized up. As you enter his apartment, he hands you a takeout container.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he closes the door behind you.

“Well, when you bribe me with shawarma…”

He laughs, but he’s rubbing his hands together and crinkling his eyebrows. You set your food down and plant yourself in front of him.

“Hey, it’s just a debrief,” you tell him, wrapping your hands around his biceps. Your touch brings him back to reality. “It’s no big deal. Fury just talks for an hour.”

“Yeah, it’s…been a while since one of these, I guess.” He tries to laugh it off.

You leave his side, sitting down at the dining room table.

“If it makes you feel better, you did about two million dollars less damage than Bruce and Thor.”

“It’s not that.” He throws himself on the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. “I guess authority has never been a big fan of me.”

“Authority doesn’t get along with Captain America?”

“Authority doesn’t get along with the punk that lied about fifty times to get into the military.”

You speak between bites: “Then you must’ve gotten along with Tony Stark. Wonder why Nat said you had your panties in a twist over him.”

He perks up, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “She said that? Exactly like that?”

You snicker at his sudden interest, choking on a slice of tomato. “Does that bother you?” you tease.

He concedes, leaning back on the couch’s arm. “That Stark is something else. I wonder what Peggy would say if she knew I almost fought Howard’s son.” Steve stares at a spot on the wall, his mind a flurry of what-ifs.

⋆⋆⋆

Ambush. You’ve been tasked to partner with Captain America for his first official SHIELD assignment, and it’s a fucking ambush.

“Stay close,” the captain says.

Steve tosses his shield at someone behind you. You hear them slump to the ground while another approaches; the shield narrowly misses you as you duck and sweep your leg out, causing a third henchman to crash to the floor.

“Watch it!” you say before Steve knocks you to the ground, shielding your body while a whizz of bullets flying past.

“Guess someone has to,” Steve shoots back before pulling you up. You roll your eyes as you unholster two weapons on your belt, one pointed to your left and the other pointed behind you. You pull both triggers without batting an eye. You don’t bother looking; Steve’s mesmerized expression confirms that you’ve hit your targets.

Steve is speechless. He has never seen you in battle before, and it’s–

“Six o’clock, Rogers!” you say, causing the hero to duck down as you aim a bullet at a man sprinting towards you. You hear yet another coming from behind, and you aim a bullet at Steve’s shield. You turn just in time to see the ricocheted bullet take out the last goon.

Knowing you were safe, you let out a fatigued sigh and pat your newest coworker on the shoulder.

“Welcome to SHIELD, Cap.”

⋆⋆⋆

Macau was absolutely beautiful, but the jet lag never quite wore off, especially when your tasks still catered to Eastern fucking Standard Time. As much as you could appreciate the change of pace, you hoped Fury would never give you an assignment like this again.

- idk steve, seems a little unfair to assign me to track the train in vancouver when i was assigned the lemurian star just a couple weeks ago. did you KNOW what time it was over here?!

- anyway, im going to bed. night!

- You've only told me a hundred times. I’m glad it was you helping us out, even if you had to track the Star from thousands of miles away.

- Good night. Sweet dreams.

- :)

You smile at the three notifications on your phone. Tucking yourself under the covers, you reach over to turn off your night lamp.

Ring ring ring.

Maria’s name on your phone earns a prolonged groan from you. So first they schedule meetings at all hours, and now they expect you to pick up the phone at every possible second.

“Hill, I love you, but I swear to god–”

“You remember that sushi place? The one on 10th Avenue?”

You feel a sudden sweat forming on your brow, even though the air conditioner is blasting. You had first heard the coded emergency message years ago, when you first trained for SHIELD. Never did you think it would actually be used.

You clear your throat, forcing your voice to steady.

“Yes, we were there with your mom and your grandma.”

Is someone listening? Are you okay? Who compromised SHIELD?

“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Maria’s voice betrays nothing before she hangs up the call.

You only brought a duffel bag to Macau, and you’re now shoving it full of underwear and clothes.

Wait, honestly, fuck it–Hill’s call told you scatter immediately, who the fuck cares if you had enough shirts?

You leave the SHIELD-sanctioned apartment, tossing your phone into a nearby garbage bin. You think of Nat, of Fury, of Steve. You wonder if they’re okay, but you have to settle for never knowing.

⋆⋆⋆

Red pixels fill your screen, slowly sharpening into a familiar face.

“Nat,” you gasp. Any suspicion about the unknown number on your burner phone melts away.

“Hey,” she says. She delivers her greeting with the nonchalance of a friend who has just seen you for brunch. “If you were a traitor, you would tell me, right?”

You match her lopsided smile. “No, of course not. Hey, what’s your social security number again?”

Natasha laughs, but her joy dissipates quickly.

“Nat? What’s been going on?”

On your end, you’ve been on the run, though you never quite knew who you were running from. You’ve had no contact with your coworkers since you received the call from Hill. You’ve heard various rumors, but you haven’t had the comfort of confirming their truth.

She peers somewhere off camera.

“A lot.”

She turns back to you, continuing: “He…hasn’t been good.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

You hold your breath as Nat stands up, willing her shaky camera work to still. You can barely make out their bare environment, lighted only by bars of fluorescent light.

“Maybe he should tell you himself.”

You watch as Nat hands over the phone. Steve looks up at her in confusion before turning towards her device. You see the relief flood his features. He says your name like it’s a breath of air after being held underwater.

“Steve,” you greet softly. “Are you okay?”

Steve presses his lips together. His eyes become dazed as he tries to find the words. After a few moments, you say his name again.

“I had a friend.

“A best friend,” he begins. “I thought I lost him.”

He hangs his head, and for a moment, all you see are strings of blonde hair.

“But the truth is much worse.”

The last time you had spoken, Steve was an explosion of excitement, practically setting the world record for longest run-on sentence as he told you Peggy was alive. Now, your heart breaks at the sight of the dejected hero.

“He doesn’t even remember me,” Steve continues.

You want to cry for Steve and tell him everything will be okay. You want to invite him into your arms and hold him. Instead, something tells you to push that aside. You grit your teeth; your grip is tight on your phone. You have half a mind to book a plane ticket to…you don’t even know where they are, but you want to be there, dammit.

“Then do something he won’t forget, Steve.”

⋆⋆⋆

You rush through the halls, dodging white coats and crash carts.

Room 311, room 311, room 311…

An armed guard reaches out to stop you before recognition settles. You glare at him, but the delay causes you to rethink storming into the hospital room after Steve’s near-death experience. You peer at him through the window, pressing your hand onto the glass. With the stitches along his cheek, the bruising on his jaw, and the scrapes along his browline, he looks…fallible. Vulnerable. Human.

You make eye contact with the man sitting beside him. He looks unfamiliar to you, but the bruises and cuts on his face tell you enough. He gives you a slow nod before turning back to his book.

⋆⋆⋆

You and Steve lean in closely, pretending to be deep in conversation while you keep a watchful eye on Bruce and Nat. You lean against the Stark Tower wall while Steve stands in front of you.

“I knew it,” he whispers, testing the limits of his peripheral vision as he peers at his friends.

“Yeah?” you say, taking a sip from the flute of champagne.

He turns his attention away from the two to face you. “One hundred percent. It was a perk of being friends with Bucky–I could see the girls drooling from a mile away.”

“And if they were drooling for you?” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah. Right,” he says, his eyebrows shifting upwards in disbelief as he takes a sip from his own drink.

“Maybe you just couldn’t tell,” you inform him.

“I think I would know, agent,” he tells you.

You reach out to adjust the collar of his shirt. As you pull away, your fingertips brush against his neck.

“I guess you would, captain.”

He gives you that dazzling, all-American smile before glancing at the bar. Nat looks up at the same time, locking eyes with Steve. He turns back to you abruptly, slamming his hand on the wall by your head in feigned nonchalance.

“Real subtle, Rogers,” you tell him. Tony rolls his eyes at the sight of you pinned beneath the captain’s body.

Steve drops his head, and you feel his hair graze your forehead. You’re glad he’s too engrossed in his embarrassment to notice that his proximity has made you dizzy.

“Shit,” he murmurs, stepping away. “Sorry.”

“Romanoff!” you call with a smirk. “Get the swear jar!”

⋆⋆⋆

“Can we talk about the mall again?” you question. So what if your words are slurring together a little, who cares?

Nat tucks her chin, willing you to continue with expectant eyes.

“So you mean to tell me…,” you begin slowly.

“Yes.”

“You look like that…And Steve looks like that…”

“Sure.”

“And your solution to avoid attention was to…”

“Kiss.”

“Kiss, right.”

You and Nat share a look before devolving into a fit of laughter.

“And it–”

“–worked!” Nat finishes. She takes a swig of her beer. “I’m good at what I do, agent. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your eyes drop to the floor. You fiddle with the rim of your glass, before telling your friend:

“Tell me it meant nothing.”

Nat looks at Bruce, who has tucked himself between Dr. Cho and Clint. He looks on as Rhodey shares a familiar story, smiling and chuckling at all the right parts. He feels her eyes on him, and he gives her a smile that feels like home.

Her eyes move to Steve next, America’s hero for the better part of a century. He’s unmistakable. He commands attention, and he deserves it, too. He stands tall, knowing the world is always watching.

Finally, her gaze lands on you. You’re incredibly capable, magnificently skilled, and you would deny it all in a second. Her most humble friend, who declines the most notorious assignments to bask in the solace of the less glamorous work instead.

She reaches over the bar to place her hand atop yours. With all due respect, fuck Lillian with the lip piercing, and fuck Kristen from Accounting. Steve’s perfect match is right in front of her.

⋆⋆⋆

You feel your airways functioning again as the weight of the couch is lifted off of you. You swallow lungfuls of air, and the sudden intake causes you to choke and cough. Warmth radiates from strong hands on either sides of your head.

“Hey,” Steve croons. “Hey, I’m here.”

“Actually, I wedged myself between the couch and the floor,” you groan through the sharp pain in your ribs, “in hopes that Thor would rescue me from the big metal man.”

Your poorly-timed joke catches Steve off guard, and he finds himself laughing as he searches you for any hidden injuries.

“Yeah, you definitely have a concussion.”

⋆⋆⋆

You watch as the unfamiliar number blinks on your phone, but something compels you to answer. Steve’s face appears on your screen, an apologetic smile painting his face. The last you heard, the Avengers were following a lead on Ultron before going dark.

“Steve! Are you okay?”

He peers around him. You can make out a sunny window, rustic decor…is that a child’s toy?

“I can’t stay for long,” he says. “But–yes. We’ll…figure it out.”

He sees the concern on your face, and he knows what you’re about to say:

“What can I do?”

“Lay low,” he says, almost immediately, recalling how Ultron nearly ended your life with Stark’s god-awful furniture. “Keep yourself safe.”

You rub your temples. It’s as if you’re being dragged back to SHIELD’s dissolution, hurtled into a life of mystery and solitude that you hadn’t asked for.

You see a wave of red as Nat pushes her head in between Steve and the camera.

“At least five bad language words since we got here, agent,” she says. You laugh, already picturing the look Steve is giving her behind her curtain of curls. “Wish you were here.”

“Me too.”

Steve watches her walk off, and then waits a few moments longer.

“I saw her,” he tells you, his face dropping all signs of amusement.

You shake your head, trying to piece together what Steve wants to tell you.

“She said the war was over, that we could go home,” he continues. “Then I was back, here. On the ground. Alone.”

“You’re not alone, Steve,” you insist.

But he doesn’t quite hear you.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve scoots into the booth, unbuttoning his black suit jacket. You take the seat right beside him. He lets out a subdued sniff and asks you how the convention went.

“I know the world needs you to be big and strong,” you tell him, “but I don’t.”

You open your arms, and he chuckles before resting his head on your shoulder. You envelop him in a hug, rubbing his back.

“Never ask me about those boring fucking conventions again,” you murmur, feeling his tears fall onto the shoulder of your blouse. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Steve.”

Steve fishes around his pocket and brings out his compass. At the press of a button, it opens, revealing a photograph of Peggy. She looked breathtaking, with her strong jawline, perfect curls, and fierce gaze. Steve hesitates, then passes the device to you. You move your arm from Steve to hold the memento with both hands. You run your finger over the photo’s fading edges.

“And she liked you?” you jest to cover the emotions that are running through you. Why are tears prickling your eyes?

“Once,” Steve responds with a chuckle as you pass him back his most prized possession, “a long time ago.”

He sits up, stiffening. Before you can question the change of demeanor, he confesses, “I…can’t sign the Accords.”

You give him a faint smile, as if it hasn’t been the topic of discussion at the Madrid convention. You were more than happy to meet him in London, especially if it meant getting away from chatty politicians with pesky questions.

“I know, Steve,” you say, holding his face in your hands. You run your thumb down his cheek, erasing a drying line of tears. You ignore how the air leaves your lungs as Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. “I know.”

⋆⋆⋆

“You’re too good to be down here, agent.”

Sharon pauses her scribbling to punctuate her sentence with a smile.

“You know this is where I like it,” you tell her from the other side of the bulletproof panel. Sharon slides the sign-out sheet back to you. You stifle a laugh as you read that Go Fuck Yourself has signed out two quantities of kiss my ass. Right before you buzz her into weapons lockup, she stops you.

“Wait,” she says abruptly, startling you. “Are you sure?”

Since the day you took him to the boxing gym, you have become Steve’s safe place. In times of need, on the run with Nat or holed up in Clint’s home, he desperately wished you were there. Never mind the comforting touch or the distracting joke, just your presence beside him was enough to turn the weight of the world into a bag of feathers.

Now, Steve has called in a favor. Get the shield and the wings to Sharon, and she’ll cover the rest. No big deal, just betray the federal entity you work for and be indefinitely on the lam. Run, and don’t take any chances.

“Never been more sure in my life.”

You press the button harder than you need to, and the door swings open. Sharon steps through, taking in the towering rows of weapons.

“Whoa,” she says. The massive basement room was the perfect place to house all of the CIA’s most dangerous arms, including Captain America’s shield and the Falcon’s wings.

You lead Sharon through shelves of alien technology and massive guns.

“Might’ve been less sure if I had a metal hand punching me into the wall, though,” you say, looking back at her as she tries to rub out the pain in her back.

She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m glad you were far away from that mess,” she says earnestly.

“Didn’t really have a choice. When we went into lockdown, I was shut in.”

You shudder as you remember the weapons rooms’ light cutting out suddenly, plunging you into darkness. An agent had announced a code red over the walkie, and you sprinted towards the door–just in time to watch the metal gates slam down. You had pounded on the metal, desperate to escape. Your gut told you what–or rather, who–played a role in the Code Red.

You grunt as you pull on the box. It falls to the floor with less grace than you hoped, and Sharon tugs it open. She lights up at the sight of the vibranium shield, her smile wide and her eyes bright. She catches your eye and immediately drops her smile.

With a shake of her head, she apologizes and says, “Um…thank you.”

⋆⋆⋆

“West entrance, thirty seconds,” Nat tells you. You hear her tapping on her keyboard, and the doors in front of you hiss open. You creep quietly into the darkness of the Raft corridor, with Steve following closely behind.

Steve presses his fingers to his ear. “We’re in.”

“Wait for my signal,” Nat murmurs. “You have three minutes to take down the guards, then about five minutes after that before their backup arrives.”

“Eight minutes?” you say incredulously. “Steve, she thinks we’re amateurs.”

Nat snickers from the comforts of the Quinjet. “Just know, if you get caught, I’ll sleep soundly knowing I left both of your asses behind.”

You feign a horrified gasp. “Steve! Cover your ears!”

You don’t have to see him to know Steve is currently tilting his head in disbelief.

Nat cuts off any retort he might have had: “And now.”

You and Steve move in unison. He takes a boot to the door, and you spare no time to fire a hailstorm of bullets into the room. Your attack disarms several guards and destroys the audiovisual equipment. Steve tosses his shield around the room, and it bounces off the remaining guards, knocking them to their feet.

You place your foot on a guard’s chest, nodding at Steve.

“I’ll keep them here.”

The captain disappears into the cell block. You can hear the distant sounds of Steve breaking through jail bars, followed by triumphant cheers and joyous reunions.

Your earpiece crackles; Nat is switching you both to a different channel.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” she tells you.

You stare past the doorway, not quite sure how to respond. She continues: “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again. We’re fugitives now.”

A few minutes later, Steve reappears, a proud smile on his face.

“They’re headed to the jet,” he says. “We did it.”

You force a smile back at him as he leads you out of the room. His arm extends to your waist and you hold your breath; but, he continues reaching until he can close the door behind you and break off the doorknob. As he pulls away, you capture your hand in his. You love the way he laces his fingers between yours, almost reflexively.

“Steve…”

We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.

His eyebrows scrunch in concern. Were you injured? Did a guard send out an emergency signal? But your expression tells a different story; his cool blue eyes could bore holes into your skull. You can only stammer, so Steve speaks instead.

“Wherever you go,” he says, unlacing his hands to instead place it on your cheek, “I can always be there. You just say the word.”

You close your eyes. You won’t know when you’ll see him again, and you lean into his touch, pressing his hand harder into your cheek.

“Two minutes,” Nat’s voice, barely audible, comes over your earpieces.

Steve pulls you into a hug.

“Check in. Stay close. Don’t take any chances,” he whispers.

How could you? The biggest chance you could’ve taken just slipped through your fingers.

⋆⋆⋆

“Oh my god! Thor?!”

Steve practically scoffs, scratching at his beard.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “How are you?”

“As good as I could be,” you say. You look around the feeble apartment, a micro-studio with a bed and a kitchenette. You landed in Shanghai after abandoning post, figuring one of the most populous cities in the world would be the perfect place to go into hiding.

Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer.

“I’m so sorry.”

“That a grown woman made a decision?” you scoff. “Sure, I forgive you, then.”

You raise a chuckle from him, and he feels that familiar sensation of relief and comfort at the sound of your voice. Steve made you a vagabond, but you held on tight to your favorite title of smartass.

“How about you?” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he says, pushing long strands of hair away from his face.

“You with Sam? Nat?”

“Nearby.”

“Bucky?”

“With a friend.”

You blow through your lips.

“Sharon?” You say your friend’s name as if it were a throwaway line.

Steve squints at you through the screen, and you shift uncomfortably on your mattress. Your eyes dart everywhere–anywhere but your phone–while you wait for his response.

“No,” he answers. “No idea where she is.”

You purse your lips. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, and you feel an odd mixture of happy and sad all at once.

“Are you just checking in?” Steve wonders. “Or–?”

“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “Checking in.”

Silence settles for a few moments, before Steve tells you: “I wish you were here.”

You give him a measly “me too” and a sad smile.

“Soon?” you offer, though it’s the emptiest promise you’ve ever given.

“Soon,” is his response, the biggest lie he’s ever told.

⋆⋆⋆

You promptly withdraw your pocket pistol, peering around the corner. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the CIA found you, but, damn, you just got to Cape Town. With your finger on the trigger, you step out of your hiding spot…

…and are greeted by familiar blue eyes.

“You said stay close, right?” Steve says with a smile.

You call for him breathlessly. Your body suddenly feels like jello and your knees threaten to buckle underneath you. Your gun nearly slips from your grasp as you run forward, right into Steve’s welcoming arms. He locks you in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. You feel your feet leave the ground as Steve lifts you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to burst into tears.

With only the occasional video call being your only form of communication, you’ve nearly forgotten what Steve looks like from the shoulders down. When he puts you down, you hold him at arm’s length and stare, as if you’re trying to commit him to memory.

“Steve,” you say his name again, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he’s really here. You shake your head vigorously. “You can’t be here–it’s too dangerous–”

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I couldn’t go without you.”

“Go where?”

⋆⋆⋆

You squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft passes through the translucent panels. When you open your eyes, the panels are behind you. The warrior piloting the plane smiles at your shock.

Steve watches you the whole time, captured by the sense of wonder painted on your face. He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.

“Welcome to Wakanda.”

A small welcoming committee smiles brightly as you and Steve step off of the aircraft. Steve goes straight to a man with a bun, while the other two approach you.

“Greetings, agent,” the king greets you. “I am–”

“King T’Challa,” you say, meeting his handshake with fervency. “Your highness, it’s an honor.”

“The honor is all mine,” T’Challa responds with a smile. He gestures to the younger woman beside him. “And this is Princess Shuri, my sister.”

“Princess,” you greet. You reach your hand out, but quickly shift into a fist bump as Shuri reaches out a closed fist.

“Agent,” she responds with a grin. “I hope you will find your stay enjoyable.”

“Are you kidding me?” you say, then realizing you’re speaking much too casually for royalty. “I mean–the plane ride was easily the most luxurious experience of my life. I’m not sure how you’ll get me to leave.” Shuri’s grin spreads wider.

“I apologize, but we must be going,” T’Challa says. “But you have everything that you need, I assure you.”

You peer over at Steve, who grips the brunette’s shoulder as he laughs.

“And if you don’t,” Shuri calls as she and her brother take their leave, “you can ask any of the bald, mean-looking women.”

“Shuri!”

“They’re the Dora Milaje,” the man beside Steve explains as they approach you, “Wakanda’s elite warriors.”

Steve chest swells with pride as he introduces, “This is Bucky. My best friend.”

Bucky’s shakes your hand. He doesn’t wait for you to introduce yourself, instead saying your name to you.

“Heard a lot,” Bucky says with a smile. You glance at Steve, surprised that you’ve been a topic of discussion for the two.

“All good things,” Steve says, grinning at his best friend.

“Oh, great things,” Bucky adds assuredly as you feel your ears burning.

⋆⋆⋆

Ayo, one of the warriors, spares a few moments to meet you and Steve. She stands solemnly as you sit on the grass, your palms rested behind you.

“Bucky is, um…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask if the man is still capable of snapping your neck without an ounce of regret.

“We are working on it,” she says, keeping her eyes forward. You follow her gaze, watching as a group of children do and redo the best friends’ hair. Steve’s hair is first in a high ponytail, then two low buns. He catches your eye and waves, a wide grin on his face. You wave back as he and Bucky laugh at each other’s hairstyles.

Ayo follows Steve’s gaze back to you.

“We had arranged two bedrooms…”

You sit up straight with wide eyes.

“Th- And that’s totally fine.”

“It is no issue.”

Ayo walks away as Steve chases some of the children, feigning fatigue as they run away giggling.

“It’s a good look for him,” Bucky comments. Bucky is eyeing the three ponytails on top of his best friend’s head, but you’re taking in the sight of Steve consoling a child who has fallen. He gestures elaborately, as if casting a magic spell on the scrape. The child laughs and runs away, instantly remedied.

“It is,” you murmur.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you clear your throat. “Was–Was he like this before, too?”

Bucky cheeks puff as he releases an exaggerated exhale. “Hell no.”

“No?”

“Worse, so much worse. Insufferable, really.”

Steve jogs up to you. “They call you White Wolf, Buck? Do we all get nicknames?”

“Maybe,” Bucky says with a shrug. “You could be…”

“White Man,” you offer, earning a disbelieving look from Steve and a hearty laugh from Bucky.

“Or,” Bucky says, “I can tell them that Peggy called you–”

Steve shoves his friend, earning another laugh from the brunette.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve leans his forearm against the window. Below, the city lights dance, bright glimmers against an otherwise dark night.

“It’s good for him here,” he tells you with a smile on his lips.

“Wakanda looks good on you, too,” you say. The bed shifts as you stand up, joining Steve at the window. Wakanda is absolutely beautiful, and you understand why the country is hidden away from the rest of the world. “Maybe you should stay here.”

“Maybe we should,” he suggests, “but clearly their space is limited.”

You and Steve peer back at the singular bed that occupies the room.

“I told Ayo–”

“And I told Bucky–”

“It’s no big deal, right?”

“Right,” Steve says, mirroring your doubtful tone.

You both gingerly approach, like two idiots who have never seen a bed before. He cautiously approaches one side while you approach the other, slipping in and leaving as much space between you as possible. Steve scoots closer ever so slightly, but grabs a pillow, fluffing it and placing it between you two.

You and Steve spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling until your eyes form warped images in the darkness. Eventually, he sighs. You turn to ask him what’s wrong, but instead see him take the pillow and toss it across the room.

“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling you into his muscled chest.

“Language,” you mutter. But your eyelids already feel droopy as sleep pulls you under. Tonight, sleep smells like sandalwood and feels like heaven. Tonight, your dreams are blonde wisps and bright eyes that threaten to pull you into the ocean deep.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve is just broad shoulders and sullen disposition from your spot in the darkness.

“...Tony Stark, also known as the hero Iron Man, has been reported missing…”

“Get your things, Steve,” you say, stepping out from the shadows.

You’re the only thing that can pull Steve away from his racing thoughts. He forces his eyes off the screen, away from the image of a grinning Tony.

“Where are we going?” he says as you reach out to tug on his shoulder, a silent urge to gather his things. His hand finds a home over yours, holding it in place.

“Edinburgh.”

⋆⋆⋆

You start the search again, maybe the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.

The bar slowly fills up, reaching one hundred percent…

No results found.

“Nothing, Steve,” you tell him, your voice hoarse. Thanos might as well have vanished.

The captain is still for a moment before his hand comes down on the console table. After the glass breaks and the books clatter, you can only hear Steve’s deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. He takes long strides towards the door.

No results found.

“Steve–don’t take any chances. We’ll find him,” you say pleadingly. “He knows we’ll find him.”

As Steve mourned Bucky back in 1944, he wished he had something to bury. A final home for his best friend. A meeting place for him to visit. Something, anything to remember him by. Now he has his ashes, and he realizes how stupid he was to think it would bring him any relief.

No results found.

“Then he should be here to tell me himself.”

You flinch as the door slams shut behind him.

⋆⋆⋆

You pull a brown plaid shirt from Steve’s closet. You hold it up to his frame.

“I should’ve told you this eleven years ago,” you say as you pull the shirt off its hanger, “but you should really size up.”

He chuckles as he takes the shirt from you, slipping it through his arms. You begin to button the shirt as Steve looks on through the mirror. These days, he’s not quite sure who it is looking back at him.

“I don’t know what to tell them,” he says. If he wasn’t so numb, he might feel anxious. His stomach may have flipped at the thought of the support group sitting in a melancholic circle, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.

You give him a sad smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He captures your hands in his before you can pull away.

“Tell them what you told me,” you say, and your hands slowly slip from his grasp. “About Peggy.” You give one final tug on his shirt before sending him on his way.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve looks anxious at your weekly dinner. He pushes around the contents of his plate without taking a single bite. You watch him, waiting for him to speak. When nothing ever comes, you ask him yourself. He drops his fork, finally stopping his nervous assault on his sliced carrots. He can’t stop thinking of Scott Lang, waving at him from the security cameras.

“What have you heard about…time travel?”

⋆⋆⋆

“Buck, can I…talk to you?”

Steve’s hesitant question causes you to put down the bandage. You’re not quite sure why Steve called you to the compound at this hour, and you’re even more unsure of why he was nowhere to be found while you made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. You feel lucky enough that Bucky made his way down, looking for something to sterilize his wounds. Usually, you would kill time talking to Nat, but–

“Sure,” Bucky answers. He gives you an unreadable look as he disappears with Steve into his room. You keep yourself busy, cleaning up the used medical supplies, until the super soldiers reappear. You see Bucky’s jaw clench ever so slightly; otherwise, he is nearly expressionless. He approaches you, nodding towards Steve. You slip off of the kitchen counter stool and Steve places his hand on your lower back, leading you into his room.

His room in the compound is nearly bare, save for what Tony has furnished himself. Not even the record player that he proudly found years ago, the only possession in his former SHIELD apartment.

You sit at the edge of Steve’s bed while he moves his armchair and plants himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, leans forward, and stares earnestly into your eyes.

“Steve?” You can’t ignore the feeling churning in your gut.

“You have been so good to me,” he begins. The inner parts of his eyebrows raise up in sincerity. “And I just want to say thank you.”

“You’re…welcome,” you say, a quip getting lost in your confusion.

“Tomorrow, I return the infinity stones.”

You nod. You knew that. He knew you knew that.

“And…I’m not coming back.”

You let out a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry,” you say, finding your voice suddenly hoarse. “You know Dr. Banner will make sure–”

“The last stone I have to return is in 1949,” he explains. Are you shaking your head at him? Is your entire body quaking? You’re not quite sure. “And I’m going to stay.”

I love you, Steve.

I love you so goddamn much.

I’ve loved you from that moment you sat in Fury’s stupid, flimsy chair.

I’ve loved you since you looked at me like I was your entire world, all because I took you to the worst gym in New York.

I’ve loved you in every moment, in every iteration, in every semblance of you.

And Steve Rogers, I know you love me, too.

You want to reach for Steve’s hand, but you’re frozen, and your clammy hands stay rooted in your lap. You give him a smile that you hope looks genuine.

“You had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

You leave Steve behind in his room, insisting he didn’t need to walk you out. Insisting you didn’t need to spend the night, or ask any more questions.

Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, unmoving. You move to stand beside him.

“He can’t,” you whisper as you approach. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you’re nearly drawing blood.

“He made his choice,” Bucky responds. He matches your hushed volume, but his collected tone contrasts your panicked timbre.

“He can’t,” you say again. Maybe he didn’t hear you correctly.

“It’s his life,” Bucky tells you, in the same even voice.

“He can’t.” Your knees can’t hold you anymore. You’re falling, and Bucky catches your wrists in an effort to keep you from slumping to the ground.

You fight against his grip. You find the sides of your fists beating against his chest. Bucky falls with you. His cold eyes stare ahead, into the darkness beyond the compound. Your tears are hot, pouring onto your face like streams of lava.

He can’t

⋆⋆⋆

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

You watch the best friends pull each other into an embrace. Bucky’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Steve turns to you, and your bitter frown turns into a painted smile. His muscled arms pull you into a hug next.

“Check in,” he says.

“Stay close,” you respond, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Your eyes squeeze shut as you pull him into a tighter embrace. When you release, Steve flicks away a stray tear from your face.

“Don’t take any chances.” He lingers a moment too long with his hands pressed against your jawline, his eyes searching for something unknown in your expression. Eventually, all too soon, he steps into Dr. Banner’s machine. At the press of a button, he’s gone.

Bruce counts down, preparing his machine for Steve’s return, one that you know won’t ever happen. Eventually, beside you, he and Sam break into a frenzied argument, but somehow they sound so far away.

“Sam.”

Bucky’s sharp voice draws the attention of the three of you. You follow Bucky’s gaze to an elderly man sitting on a bench. You can only see the back of his head, but you gasp.

Your feet are carrying towards the man, right alongside Sam and Bucky.

You can feel Sam’s perplexed gaze shift from you to Bucky.

“Go ahead,” Bucky urges.

You feel like you’re watching from miles away as Sam slowly approaches the captain. Every heartbeat feels like your heart is sinking further down into your stomach, and you force yourself to walk away. As soon as your back is turned, the tears flow freely. You stifle your sobs, disappearing behind a tree, out of sight from the other four heroes.

Bucky keeps his smile as he watches the astonished Sam receive the shield, just as he and Steve discussed. He sees the journey ahead for Sam, the man with a future yet to forge.

He glances back, seeing only a portion of you behind a tree trunk, heaving with the weight of your burdened cries. His heart aches for you, a lifetime of possibilities turned into memories of the past. The light at the end of the tunnel was simply a mirage for the woman left behind.

114 notes · View notes

wandabear · 2 years

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Everything will be okay - Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Summary: Y/N proposes to Wanda and she says... no. That's when things get complicated, too much.

Maybe a dumb idea? But I wanted to do it. This is not just a chapter of hearbreak, but also friendship. As you know me: Jules is portrayed by Adelaide Kane. Next one will be Wanda’s POV.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

here i use my own gifs!

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CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX - finale

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“Are you sure she's going to like it?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

There was concern on her face, in her hand she held a small welvet scarlet box. Inside it, gleamed a beautiful ring with a lovely almandite garnet stone.

The eyes of her two curious friends watched the ring surprised, and smiling. They knew that for a long time Y/N had been trying to propose to Wanda. Taking the relationship to something more serious, after almost two years together.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette sighed deeply, looking for the answer from both girls next to her. Yelena Belova and Julia "Jules" Hale.

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“I think so, it is cute.” Yelena Belova said with that thick russian accent. “And for sure quite expensive.”

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“I think she's going to love it, especially that mini speech you've made about that almandite stone. I mean, it has a beautiful meaning.” Said Jules, a woman with hair as black as the night and skin as white as the moon. Light Brown eyes, and her lips were pink and full.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Cheer up, Y/L/N.” Yelena patted the taller girl's shoulder as they walked through the huge compound together. “Your witchy loves you, haven't you seen how she sees you? Make me want to vomit everytime I see it. Ugh!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Since Y/N arrived at the Compound, she bounded a beautiful friendship with Yelena Belova, who also recently arrived. Although first they used to fight a lot. According to Maria Hill, they needed their best agents from what was left of the ‘old’ S.H.I.E.L.D, especially after the awful events in Sokovia. Everyone seemed really sorry for how that incident ended, especially for the sudden death of Pietro Maximoff, a young man who had given his life to save the lives of innocent people.

His sister also joined the avengers, but ever since she arrived, Wanda confined herself in her room, only coming out to find something to eat or to do some training. This had caught Y/N's attention. Every time she saw Wanda at training, she seemed like a gloomy, melancholic and quiet girl, she didn't want to socialize too much. Only seemed to talk to Natasha, and hardly ever to Steve when they were supposed to train.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But slowly, Y/N managed to get into the heart of the Sokovian. Managed to win her over with small gestures, small displays of love, adorable humor and little jokes that made her laugh little by little. Y/N had completely fallen in love with Wanda Maximoff. Her love was patient, she was not in a hurry.

And Wanda couldn't resist the warmth it gave her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Two years ago…

ㅤㅤㅤ

With a tired and sad gaze at the floor, Wanda walked into her own room completely exhausted from the constant life she had to deal with. Wake up, cry, eat breakfast -just because Natasha forced her to eat the nutrients she needed to train- train, cry, eat, shower, cry and sleep.

That was the life Wanda had since she came, since she lost Pietro. Briefly remembered the jab in her stomach when she saw the Compound, thinking that Pietro would love to be there so much. Surely he would be excited as a child, and that was destroying her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She felt very hypocrite right now, how could she fight with the earth mightiest heroes if she just wanted to die? When half of your soul died, how would you feel? Wanda dragged her feet all the way to bed, until she saw a small package and a note. The sokovian brunette closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, trying to calm down all the emotions that would soon drown her. She knew very well what that was about, it was not the first time that Agent did it.

That cute and dumb agent who arrived almost at the same time as her. A woman taller than her, with a very attractive body and brown eyes that could make you tremble.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She took the note in her hands and could see the calligraphy.

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‘So mysterious yet, so incredibly real. It's an uncharted sea, it's an unopened door. But you gotta reach out and you gotta explore… Even though you're not sure, till the moment arrives there she is and you know you're in love.’

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda rolled her eyes and took that package, opening it with some desperation. She found a cassette. Another one, again. With this there were now four.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Looking at the player that Y/N left the first time she found one of the cassettes tapes and hesitated for a moment. Should she...? After a few seconds, Wanda played that song. The same as that note.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N was in the kitchen, after a nice session of kicking Jules' butt but then getting kicked by Yelena, it had been pretty fun.

Yelena was Natasha's sister, and although everyone seemed quite surprised by this. Apparently, they distanced themselves but after several attempts, they had reunited. And since the blonde arrived, Natasha seemed less tense.

And a bit happier.

ㅤㅤ

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent took one of the donuts on the table and brought it to her lips. The pleasure she felt at the taste of it could be seen on her face, but when she suddenly saw Wanda storming into the kitchen she swallowed it down quickly, coughing a bit.

ㅤㅤ

“Hey, Wanda.”

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“You left this in my room again.” Wanda walked over and placed the cassette next to Y/N, who didn't seem surprised at all.

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah.” She arched an eyebrow.

ㅤㅤ

“I told you I'm not interested. Stop doing it.” Wanda crossed her arms, ready to put an end to that stupid game the agent was playing with her.

ㅤㅤ

“I know.”

ㅤㅤ

Exasperated by her attitude, Wanda snapped: “Then why do you keep doing it?”

ㅤㅤ

“Because it makes you smile.” Y/N clicks her tonge and wiped her hands clean, removing all traces of donut dust from her fingers. “And I want that. That you smile, that’s what I want the most.”

ㅤㅤ

Pressing her lips, Wanda remained in that pose.

ㅤㅤ

“How do you know I smile? Maybe it doesn't make me smile.”

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“Well, only you know that.” The brunette shrugged and got up from her seat, taking that donut with her. “Anyway, that was the last one you'll receive.”

ㅤㅤ

Wanda felt the despair inside her. Although she really felt annoyed and a little uncomfortable with the constant failed attempts of Y/N to conquer her, flirting everytime she sees her, knowing that the agent was giving up on her made her feel... even more empty.

ㅤㅤ

“Why?” Wanda stammered a bit, trying to get the brunette's attention but trying not to look as desperate as she felt.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N turned around but kept walking.

ㅤㅤ

“Because I've already told you everything you need to know.” She smiled slightly, leaving the Sokovian alone in that kitchen.

ㅤㅤ

---

PRESENT

ㅤㅤ

After that, a few dates followed, in which Y/N tried hard to make Wanda -for a few moments- completely forget all the pain she felt. Of course she wouldn’t forget Pietro, but maybe she would slowly turn those painful little memories into beautiful ones.

ㅤㅤ

This time, after two years, she was about to have another date with Wanda Maximoff. This one made her feel the same feelings as the first date, as if she was going to go down a roller coaster. Y/N swallowed hard, looking at herself in the mirror. That night she had to look good, everything had to go perfect.

With the hair loose, a black jacket and a shirt was enough to look pretty good. Her friends helped choose it because according to them, she panicked just by seeing the huge closet not knowing what to wear like a silly teenager.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed deeply before turning to see her small apartment now they shared in the compound. Many times they talked about moving into an apartment of their own and having a little more 'privacy', but every time they thought about it, both felt enormous sadness at leaving their friends there. Wanda had a nice friendship with Natasha, who adored the sokovian like a sister but also pushed her to give more and the best of herself.

ㅤㅤ

Her thoughts faded when she saw that one of the melon and raspberry scented candles was threatening to go out, so she ran to relight it when the door opened. Wanda came into the room but stopped quickly when she saw that scene.

The soft light and scent of the candles, the soft music and dinner on the table. And above all, Y/N looking at her with a huge smile.

ㅤㅤ

“What's wrong, detka?” She frowned at her, confused and amused. In a good way. “It’s our anniversary? Did I forget it? But I thought it was-”

ㅤㅤ

“No, it's... it's not.” Y/N cut her off and walked over, taking her girlfriend's hand. “I just want to spoil my girlfriend a bit. Come here…”

ㅤㅤ

They both sat at the table and had a wonderful evening. Y/N made lasagna, one of Wanda's favorite foods besides 'chicken paprikash', but the Sokovian was the one who usually cooked it. She was laughing at the agent’s stories, who only wanted to make her laugh. They also talked about how things had gotten tense in the compound when Steve and Tony argued over General Ross's visit. The lovely couple seemed to be having a pretty nice time together, Y/N managed to gradually make her forget the bad things in life and highlight the good things a little more.

ㅤㅤ

“That was delicious, really. Thank you, malyshka.” Wanda smiled in an lovely way, Y/N used to say that she loved when she did it because her eyes got so tiny. And the pet name Wanda gave her always made her melt. “But you still haven't told me why all this is, and although I don't doubt that you want to make me feel special, because you always come up with wonderful ways to do it... I feel that this time is different.”

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“Can't I just treat my girl?” She smiled mischievously.

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Wanda wrinkled her nose and leaned in to whisper, “When you're excited, your thoughts are loud.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N swallowed hard. Her girlfriend was an amazing and wonderful girl but also a telepath. Of course, Wanda never intruded on Y/N's thoughts, she had always respected her, and she felt that she could never be an intruder on them. But when her thoughts were so loud, it was impossible not to hear.

The dark haired woman cleared her throat and stood up for a moment, taking Wanda's hand, she walked to the huge window, looking at the beautiful and vast forest near the compound.

ㅤㅤ

“We are young, heartache to heartache, we stand. No promises, no demands. Love is a battlefield.” Y/N said with a small smile, one of her hands gently caressed Wanda's face. The height difference between the two was always so attractive. “Those were the first lyrics I sent you.”

ㅤㅤ

“I remember, that’s how you started making me fall in love with you.” The sokovian giggled a little before ending the distance between them, reaching out to kiss Y/N's lips, but after the sweet kiss the brunette pulled away from her for a moment, leaving Wanda so confused.

ㅤㅤ

“No, wait, it's not that I don't want to kiss you.” She said quickly, hoping that Wanda would think wrong.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N inhaled deeply, taking courage. “You are the most wonderful woman I have ever met, since I saw you, everything in me just…You completely rocked my world. I fell in love with Wanda Maximoff, but not because she is really beautiful. Either because she has huge green eyes that take my breath away, or a Sokovian accent that makes me melt. Especially in bed, she makes some really amazing and sexy moans.”

ㅤㅤ

Both giggled, Wanda blushed slightly and just hit her softly on the shoulder. Her heart was beating so fast but she would never have imagined what was going to happen.

ㅤㅤ

“You are wonderful in every way. You are good, you are smart, you are brave, you are beautiful and sooo sexy. I’m so proud of you, of who you are, of what you are, of what you have achieved and what you will achieve. You make me happy, so happy, every day, every moment, every fucking time. You make me feel complete, yes, and I want to do the same with you. I want to make you happy, in every possible way.” Y/N smiled widely, noticing how Wanda's green eyes filled with tears.

And suddenly, the agent knelt in front of her and took out the little scarlet velvet box.

ㅤㅤ

“Wanda Maximoff, would you make me the happiest woman one more time, and marry me?”

ㅤㅤ

'Yes'. It's what she thought Wanda would say quickly, they would both cry with joy and she would end up kissing Wanda between laughter and happiness, glass of champagne, celebrate making love passionately. It's what her mind replayed over and over again every second Wanda was quiet. With her huge green eyes wide open, Wanda said nothing. She just looked like she was petrified not knowing what to say.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N remained kneeling until she ended up hearing the voice of her beloved at last.

ㅤㅤ

“No… I… I’m sorry.”

ㅤㅤ

No? Did she just say no? Perhaps Y/N made a mistake in the speech?

ㅤㅤ

“No? You don’t?” Y/N frowned at her, quite confused. She got up, standing in front of her again.

ㅤㅤ

“No.” Said the green-eyed girl again, this time more confident than she was before.

ㅤㅤ

Tilting her head, Y/N asked: “Why?”

ㅤㅤ

“Because I just don’t want to!” Wanda said quickly and walked away from her. She looked somewhat nervous as she picked the dishes on the table. “Just that. No.”

ㅤㅤ

She carried everything to the kitchen, being followed by Y/N who seemed to not understand ANYTHING that was happening all of a sudden.

ㅤㅤ

“Or what? are you going to force me to say yes?” Wanda said that quite defensively, turning to look at her girlfriend.

ㅤㅤ

“Whoa! Of course not!” Y/N defended herself. “I just want to know why…”

ㅤㅤ

“I don’t know! All I know is that I don't want to marry you. That... That I don't know if you're THAT person I want to marry in a future. I don't know if I see it.” Licking her lips, Wanda ended up shrugging as she said the first thing that came to her mind. The fear that coursed through her invited her to speak without thinking. “And if it bothers you that much, if it bothers you to accept my decision, then we should consider ending this.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N blinked quickly, she didn't understand anything. Everything was so fast and painful, like when you remove a Band-Aid from a fresh wound.

ㅤㅤ

“Wait, what? Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N asked between surprised and annoyed. “Just because I asked you to marry me?”

ㅤㅤ

“I don’t know! I told you I don't know!” Wanda yelled so irritated.

ㅤㅤ

“Why are you yelling at me? I should be the one yelling at you right now!” Y/N yelled, watching as Wanda just shook her head and walked into the bedroom, so pissed off. “Are you leaving now?”

ㅤㅤ

“Are you going to stop me too?”

ㅤㅤ

“Don't expect me to stay here waiting for you then!” Y/N clenched her jaw as Wanda didn't stop, she seemed quite sure.

ㅤㅤ

“THEN GO!” the Sokovian yelled before slamming the door.

ㅤㅤ

Swallowing hard, heartbroken and her mind completely scrambled, Y/N looked around her blankly at what was happening. Suddenly everything seemed to have gone to hell and she didn't even understand why.

Y/N looked down to see that little box between her fingers and simply decided to leave, but not before throwing it in the trash can.

ㅤㅤ

Everything. Sucks.

ㅤㅤ

---

ㅤㅤ

Three weeks passed since Wanda and Y/N broke up and nobody could understand how it is that two people who loved each other so much, now they couldn't even see each other's faces. They all knew what happened, but neither of them said anything about it.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda avoided seeing the agent at all costs, and Y/N didn't look for her either. The training schedules changed and the missions too. Although Steve didn't seem to agree when Natasha brought it up, he later realized that they both needed space to heal from everything that was going on between them. Wanda seemed to hang out with Vision a bit more -Y/N always called him 'the talking toaster'- and of course Natasha.

ㅤㅤ

The agent took refuge in Yelena, Jules, Sam and all the missions she could take so she wouldn't have to think. But the pain she felt was reflected in the dark circles under her eyes, the nights when she couldn't even sleep, in the junk food she ate, and in the silences in the meetings. Where before she used to always say something fun and make everyone laugh, now she just listened to what they said and nodded.

The painful silence.

ㅤㅤ

That afternoon, training for new agents was taking place on the compound. And one of the agents tried to look smug, opened his big mouth saying that Y/N looked like a zombie since Wanda cheated on her, leaving the agent so bitter. That just made the the brown eyed girl go boom. Y/N ended up showing the class how to kick his ass, and the young stupid man ended up in the infirmary with Doctor Cho, with his nose broken, his ass kicked and a big lesson.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/L/N!” Natasha yelled at her when she saw the brunette walk out the door, pissed of.

ㅤㅤ

“You know he started it, Natasha, but you take ME out? Fuck that!” Y/N yelled and walked furiously, leaving the training room. Her hands were shaking, her knuckles were red from the punches, and her heart was pounding fast.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N closed her eyes in the elevator, trying to calm down but couldn't. Not when all she remembered was that agent's disgusting voice saying she looked so defeated and bitter. Wanda's voice saying that she didn't want to get married her cause she didn’t know if she was the one, the screams, the memories of her father saying that she would always be a failure. She would never be enough.

ㅤㅤ

The sound of the elevator opening brought her out of her thoughts. Walking quickly to her bedroom but when she opened it, found someone else that Y/N didn't expect to see in there.

ㅤㅤ

Jules was curled up in bed, trying to hide her face as if she were sleeping, but it was in vain. Y/N heard that little sob.

ㅤㅤ

“Jules?” She walked over to her friend and sat down next to her. And in those moments, all her problems, her pain and the anger were left behind. Now she was just worried. “What's going on?”

ㅤㅤ

Jules didn't say anything, just hugged her and cried hard. Completely shocked, not understanding what the fuck was going on with the people she loved lately, Y/N just stroked her hair and let the girl just cry for a long time until she wanted to talk. Almost half an hour later, the brunette handed her some kleenex so that she could blow her nose, and dry her tears.

ㅤㅤ

“Wanna tell me what's going on?” Y/N asked in a soft voice as she stroked Jules hair. After Jules took time to clean, compose herself so she could speak without crying, she sat up in bed.

ㅤㅤ

“I've been sleeping with Natasha.” Jules licked her lips and kept her gaze lowered, totally embarrassed.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N was quiet. Wow, maybe the people she loved went through more things than she thought. Thinking she knew everything, she believed that everything was fine and instead when two of the people closest to her ended up exposing feelings like that… Y/N would never have imagined.

ㅤㅤ

“This whole thing about your…proposal with Wanda and everything was just…” Jules cleared her throat and looked at her friend in her eyes this time. Her lovely light brown eyes looked disappointed. I'd always thought Jules was light brown like hazel and Y/N darker as coffee. “So many questions were awakened in me. Feelings. I realized that I wanted more from her than just sex, and I- I told her that.”

ㅤㅤ

“You? Wanting something serious? I never thought that would happen.” She smiled slightly, trying to joke. Jules was always a player.

ㅤㅤ

“I guess everything has a first time.” Her friend smiled sadly.

ㅤㅤ

“What happened then?” Y/N sighed sadly, watching Jules's lips tremble in sadness. “Did you tell her and…?”

ㅤㅤ

Jules didn't say anything, just looked down again.

ㅤㅤ

“You told her, and Natasha said no. Right?”

ㅤㅤ

Jules nodded. “I guess the end of the world will come now that I fell in love.”

ㅤㅤ

The look on Y/N's face went from one of concern and annoyance, to one of complete shock and pain. Her heart broke when Y/N saw that her best friend suffered too, an unrequited love in the same way, it felt terrible. Opening a wound iside, as deep as the Marianas Trench.

Before either of them could say anything else, the door to the room was open. Maria Hill was watching them from the doorway, and seemed somewhat agitated.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/L/N. Hale. Come now.” Maria noted the tension of the moment, but there were more important stuff going on. “We have something.”

ㅤㅤ

Both walked after Maria, Jules wiped her tears quickly and as if nothing happened. Y/N took her friend's hand and squeezed it for a few seconds before letting go, because she knew what they would face would be much worse. The three S.H.I.E.L.D agents entered that room, where some avengers were analyzing what would be the strategy they would play.

Steve and Natasha were discussing about the mission, Sam was asking about the veracity of the source and Steve answered that it was quite reliable. Wanda was quiet and just listened, sitting at the side of the room.

ㅤㅤ

“Rumlow has been seen in Taipei two months ago.” Steve pointed to the screen, where images of somewhat suspicious men could be seen. Some identified as former Hydra agents, others not. “The intel we got is that they have transported some kind of biological weapon from Hunan, China to the city of San Juan in Puerto Rico. Apparently some remaining Hydra heads are trying to survive, they want to use this biological weapon and wreak havoc.”

ㅤㅤ

“We're eighty percent sure it’s Rumlow.” Natasha explained her as she moved on to the next video, where some men were guarding a ship at the port.

ㅤㅤ

“The mission is quite simple.” Maria Hill said, Steve nodded. “But we need to be careful, we don't know exactly what they're transporting and it's not a good thing.”

ㅤㅤ

“Going unnoticed is essential.” Steve added. “Natasha and I will board a plane to San Juan and…”

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea.” Y/N quickly interrupted, earning the gaze of almost everyone in the meeting. Steve frowned at her, somewhat confused.

ㅤㅤ

“I mean… They know you guys, they've even seen you in damn lunchboxes and kids' backpacks. And your baseball hats and glasses are not going to work there.” Y/N grimaced, she took one of the files and read it. “An American is easy to spot and your spanish really sucks, no offense.”

ㅤㅤ

“She’s damn right.” Sam giggled and though Steve tried to hide his smile too, he nodded.

ㅤㅤ

“We will do it.” Jules sighed and took the file from her friend hands, so she could look at it now. “Y/N speaks perfect spanish since she was born, and my mother is a proud latina, so… Todos ustedes apestan.”

ㅤㅤ

Steve watched everyone waiting for some objection to that but they all seemed to agree. Of course Wanda didn't seem happy about it at all, at another time she would have said anything to prevent Y/N from going on such a risky mission, but she decided to keep quiet. It would be making things worse.

ㅤㅤ

“We will be a couple enjoying our honeymoon, I fucking deserve that.” Y/N grunted under her breath, unaware that those words made Wanda settle into her seat, quite uncomfortable.

ㅤㅤ

Maria nodded. Steve was a bit thoughtful for a moment and then he finally accepted it.

ㅤㅤ

“Alright, girls. Let’s do it. We're leaving right now.” Steve ordered and the meeting ended, everyone got up from their places. “Everyone grab your suits, get ready and go to the quinjets.”

ㅤㅤ

When they left that room, Y/N ran into Wanda in the hallway, but even though the Sokovian wanted to say something for a moment, she just looked away and decided to ignore Y/N.

ㅤㅤ

“The fuck…” Y/N whispered, still not understanding why the hell Wanda was the one ignoring her, when she should be the angry one.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed and tried to focus on the mission, it was what mattered in that moment.

ㅤㅤ

The quinjet was about to arrive at one of the abandoned heliports in San Juan. They all seemed a bit nervous, finishing arranging their stuff.

ㅤㅤ

“So... who’s the top in this marriage?” Jules asked as she took one of the Stark spy gadgets in her civilian clothes. God bless Stark Tech, sometimes.

ㅤㅤ

“Me, of course, girly girl. I'm so tall and handsome as hell.” Y/N arched an eyebrow, wearing a loose white shirt. Of course, under her clothes carried deadly weapons.

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah, don't let my looks deceive you, I’ve been tell that I’ve an amazing ability with the tongue and the strap, that would surprise you.” Jules said mischievously, making Steve to start coughing and Sam to burst out laughing, followed by everyone else. Well, everyone except Wanda who only smiled slightly.

Once the Quinjet was parked at the heliport, Steve spoke before they got out.

ㅤㅤ

“A-team, girls, try to get as much information out as possible and don't get involved until we're sure what we're dealing with.” Steve gave them the keys to one of the cars parked at that heliport, it was an old taxi that would be driven by Sam.

ㅤㅤ

After nodding, Y/N took the fake suitcases and the three of them walked towards the taxi, leaving directly for the casino hotel where they would be staying. Y/N and Jules stayed in the honeymoon suite. The first step was to implement as many microphones as they could, it wasn't difficult as they pretended to be enjoying the casino, all drunk and happy. One of the agents made everything easier when he managed to hack the security cameras of that place.

According to Redwing, Sam's drone, there was a clandestine lab under that casino.

ㅤㅤ

“Look, honey!” Y/N said as she hugged Jules, pretending to be an adorable tourist couple. “Remember when we saw one of these in Vegas?”

ㅤㅤ

'Guys, there seems to be one of the doors in sector C, on the left. There's a dark red door, it's over there.' Natasha's voice over the intercom, making Jules wince.

ㅤㅤ

Both walked away slowly from the people until they reached the end of that casino, one of the doors that were guarded by two huge men in suits, and looked serious enough to split a man in two. They laughed, trying to look completely drunk as they approached the door, when one of them stopped the girls.

ㅤㅤ

“No pueden pasar aquí, señoritas. Deben volver.” -You can't get in here, ladies. You’ve to go back.-

ㅤㅤ

Arching an eyebrow, looking interested and smiling, Y/N looked at her 'partner'.

ㅤㅤ

“I think it's one of those underground gambling places where interesting things happen, honey.” Y/N bit her lip.

ㅤㅤ

Jules pouted. “Oh, por favor, déjanos pasar.” -Oh, please, let us in.-

ㅤㅤ

“Ustedes no pueden pasar. Vuelvan a la sala, por favor.” -You can't pass. Go back to the room, please.-

ㅤㅤ

'Clearly there’s no Backgammon table there, girls. We've turned off the guard cameras, go on.' Steve said.

ㅤㅤ

“Come on, man, it’s our honeymoon! I know you’ve a underground gambling place back there.” Y/N assured, taking a somewhat smug position. “I have money, okay? I have so much money to spend. Mucho dinero.”

ㅤㅤ

Noticing that none accepted, Y/N sighed and leaned in, getting closer as if to tell them a secret.

ㅤㅤ

“I like to play… more aggressively.”

ㅤㅤ

The man narrowed his eyes confused, but the bending left his throat exposed so Y/N hit him hard, making the huge man to open his eyes and fall to his knees, gasping for breath.

ㅤㅤ

Jules took care of the other, who after receiving a strong electric shock just fell knocked out. Taking the man's magnetic card, they hid the bodies in one of the cleaning closets.

ㅤㅤ

“We're in, tell us where to go.” Asked Y/N as she walked down that semi-dark hallway, pulling the gun. Both seemed alert to any movement.

ㅤㅤ

“Redwing says there's a lab in the basement. We are coming. Stay alert and-” Natasha responded quickly, but the communication was cut off.

ㅤㅤ They took one of the lonely stairs, guarded by five men who both managed to easily disarm and knock them unconscious. Always made a pretty good team.

ㅤㅤ

“Steve, tell us where-” Y/N tried to communicate, but it was impossible. There was an horrible interference screeching noise.

ㅤㅤ

Before she could say anything, a loud crash was heard above them and they knew it was in the casino. They ended up going down the stairs to one more floor, but they only reached a huge lonely room, it seemed that everything in the place was gone. No mercenaries guarding the place, it was really weird and too easy and that alarmed both agents.

ㅤㅤ

“This is too easy. I don't like easy.” Jules hissed, worried.

ㅤㅤ

“I know.”

ㅤㅤ

“I have this bad feeling, Y/N/N…”

ㅤㅤ

'We're going in.' Finally, Steve's voice made Y/N sigh much more relaxed.

ㅤㅤ

“Guys, we have another problem. There's no fucking lab here.” Y/N walked around the place and kicked one of the empty boxes. If there was a lab there, it had definitely been torn down and moved out before they got there. But then why were there still mercenaries guarding the entrance?

ㅤㅤ

“I don't know who the hell gave yall the intel. There are only two huge containment modules here, and what appears to be a weird metal box inside the containment… with slightly bluish pulple crystals on it. I don't know what the heck is this.”

ㅤㅤ

There was no response from the others, just a horrible interference that made Y/N grunting annoyed.

ㅤㅤ

“Hello there? Steve? Natasha?”

ㅤㅤ

They both looked at each other. Y/N and Jules were alone now. They decided to approach the modules, one of these remained open and empty.

ㅤㅤ

“Someone was definitely being held here.” Y/N walked around the module, noticing some scratches. Huge reinforced glass windows and automatic doors opened, but what they saw inside took their breath away.

The timer showed that they both had just 10:00 minutes left.

ㅤㅤ

“It's a bomb.” Jules whispered.

ㅤㅤ

“Rogers, do you hear me?! We need the bomb squad right now!” Y/N exclaimed. The interference remained, no one answered. She swallowed hard, not knowing what to do, both tried to came closer, entering the containment module.

ㅤㅤ

“We should look for the team.”

ㅤㅤ

“There’s no time. You go, I stay.”

ㅤㅤ

“Of course not!”

ㅤㅤ

“Okay, okay.” Y/N tried to think what to do. She just took a moment, closing her eyes, takng courage, and then she walked slowly approaching the bomb.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

ㅤㅤ

“We need to know what kind of bomb it is. We were trained to deactivate things worse than a bomb.” Despite the fact that she felt it was a bad idea, both of them came closer to examine that artifact.

ㅤㅤ

'GET OUT OF THERE NOW!' That communicator was working again. Steve's voice made them both jump, they both turned to see how the door of that container module slammed shut. Locking them inside.

ㅤㅤ

“What's going on?” Jules widened her eyes, startled.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N went over to open it, but it was impossible, the card didn't work now.

ㅤㅤ

‘Y/N, GET OUT OF THERE NOW. I REPEAT, GET OUT NOW.’

ㅤㅤ

“Natasha, tell me what the hell is going on?!” Y/N yelled, trying to hit and break the glass, but it was impossible.

ㅤㅤ

‘THE BIOLOGICAL WEAPON IS IN SOME CRYSTALS, WE HAVE JUST SEEN HOW THREE AGENTS BECOME A DAMN ROCK STATUES. GET OUT OF THERE NOW. IT SPREADS IN THE AIR.’ This time Natasha sounded more desperate.

ㅤㅤ

Both agents looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

ㅤㅤ

“Well, we're have some bad news.” Y/N swallowed hard. “We are trapped here… and we have an explosive that could be a bomb.”

ㅤㅤ

---

ㅤㅤ

Steve soon arrived with several agents, crossing the door of the lab, he could see how both agents inside tried to analyze the object. A metal box, several cables and a timer with exactly seven minutes.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N, tell me what you know.” Steve asked, approaching the container with some caution.

ㅤㅤ

“Metallic object, it's a bomb. The timer began to count down as the doors closed.” The brunette kept looking at the object. “Each time I have tried to move anything, the timer speeds up. And apparently, if I defuse the bomb, the crystals will break. And if the bomb goes off, it will blow up the whole block.”

ㅤㅤ

“Doors?”

ㅤㅤ

“We tried to open them, but it was impossible.” Jules shook her head resignedly. “It was a trap, not for us, of course.”

ㅤㅤ

“Wanda, come here right now!” Steve ordered.

ㅤㅤ

‘RUMLOW IS ATTACKING CIVILIANS, WANDA IS TRYING TO PREVENT ONE OF THE POISON GAS BOMBS FROM EXPLODING IN ONE OF THE BUILDINGS, STEVE.’ Clint was heard from the intercom. Natasha and Sam were fighting hand to hand against the mercenaries.

ㅤㅤ

Although Wanda could not get down, Vision phased the ceiling of that laboratory and took place next to Steve. With a neutral gaze, slightly curious perhaps, Vision moved closer to the container so he could understand.

ㅤㅤ

“Vision, can you tell us what it is?” Steve asked, approaching that container. He reminded her of the ones they used on Banner, though much more sophisticated.

ㅤㅤ

Vision nodded.

ㅤㅤ

“It's made of a poly-tectic adaptive material.” Vision said completely fascinated, although the others didn't even understand what he meant, he turned to explain. “It adapts to retain those it contains. It's clearly alien technology and Stark Tech. It uses adaptive materials to contain Enhanced individuals and actually neutralizes their powers.”

ㅤㅤ

“Vision, can you phase the material? Do it.” Steve ordered. Vision nodded and moved closer to phase through the material of that container, achieving it with ease.

ㅤㅤ

“Shit.” Y/N exclaimed, completely frustrated. She swallowed hard, noticing how the minutes diminished more and more. “This is not working. If I deactivate the bomb, the crystals will break. If the bomb goes off, everyone will die. There's no other way.”

ㅤㅤ

Vision pressed his hand on that electronic lock, but although he tried to decipher the code, he couldn't, leaving him completely confused. He was trying to use every logical option his supercomputer mind told him but none of them seemed to work.

ㅤㅤ

“How strange. I can't crack the code.” Vision frowned, completely surprised at the lack of information. The synthezoid looked at them completely embarrassed. “I'm sorry I can't help you, I wish I could phase you both through with me, but it's not in my abilities.”

ㅤㅤ

“No. You have to help them, there has to be a way!” Rogers asked again, looking a bit desperate. Steve began to hit that glass with his shield, over and over again, but it was impossible. That image was heartbreaking.

ㅤㅤ

“Get out of here.” Y/N looked up, accepting her fate after several tries. Even the agents began to shoot at the windows, but nothing worked, the rain of bullets ricocheted and fell to the ground.

ㅤㅤ

“We're not going to leave.” Steve seemed adamant about his decision, which made Y/N's lips tremble.

ㅤㅤ

“Steve.” Said Y/N in a whisper. “Go.”

ㅤㅤ

“Go now, you still have time. This bomb will not explode.” Jules' broken voice caught their attention. She pressed her lips together and turned, her back to them. She couldn't allow herself to be seen that way.

ㅤㅤ

“We don't trade lives.” Captain America's gesture and his insistence made Y/N smile sadly. She fixed her gaze on the one person there she least expected.

ㅤㅤ

“Will this thing contain the mist, Vision?” Y/N asked, looking at the synthezoid surprised and touched that she finally used his name, she didn't call him 'toaster'.

ㅤㅤ

“My guess is that it will, Agent Y/L/N.”

ㅤㅤ

“Then go.”

ㅤㅤ

“Move everyone, go back.” Steve ordered to the agents who quickly backed away. Steve walked over to the glass and placed his hand against it. “This will not be forgotten. You know how much I love you both, I respect you, I really wish it hadn't ended like this.”

ㅤㅤ

“Everything will be okay, Steve.” Y/N assured.

ㅤㅤ

“This is why we got into S.H.I.E.L.D.” Jules whispered with a sad smile.

ㅤㅤ

“Tell Wanda I love her, okay?” Y/N swallowed hard. It wasn't a request, it was a fucking order. “Make sure she's happy, Steve.”

The blond nodded solemnly, trying not to show weakness, although for a moment Y/N thought he was going to cry. She turned around so she could deactivate that bomb once and for all, when the timer hit zero, only those damn crystals would break. They would die, but at least they would save many lives. Including the love of her life, and that was worth it.

ㅤㅤ

“Steve?” Jules muttered.

ㅤㅤ

“Tell Natasha…” Jules started, but she hesitated for a moment. “Tell her that she deserves to be happy. That the past cannot bind us forever, she deserves to move on sometime.”

ㅤㅤ

Steve seemed more confused than before but he just nodded, accepting that her words were pretty spot on. Once the red and blue shield disappeared from their sight, Jules allowed herself to let out a small terrified sob. Moved, Y/N wrapped her arms around her friend, cradling her again.

ㅤㅤ

“Shh, everything will be okay.” The taller woman comforted her friend, placing a small kiss on her forehead. She could see how the timer was decreasing.

ㅤㅤ

“I don't want to die, Y/N/N.” Jules sobbed against her friend's chest. “I know I should be brave as I was trained, but I don't want to die right now.”

ㅤㅤ

“I know, honey. I know.” She closed her eyes, tears fell down her cheeks.

ㅤㅤ

“I'm so scared.”

ㅤㅤ

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Y/N cupped the face of her best friend in her hands. She tried not to break even more, tried to be strong for both of them. After all, this was the end. “I love you, you know? Everything will be okay…”

ㅤㅤ

“Falling in love does not bring good stuff, huh?” Jules mumbled trying to make it sound like a joke, but he was sadder than she expected.

ㅤㅤ

“We’re in this together, Julia. Always.” She sighed and closed her eyes, unaware that she repeated those words to herself as well. “We will be okay.”

ㅤㅤ

00:09

ㅤㅤ

“I am so proud to be your friend.” Y/N looked into her friend's eyes. “My sister.”

ㅤㅤ

“You’re mine too… Yelena is going to kill us.” Jules joked in a tear-choked giggle. Y/N just smiled slightly and nodded.

ㅤㅤ

00:08

ㅤㅤ

“She will understand. She has Natasha.”

ㅤㅤ

Jules nodded, completely shocked and terrified.

ㅤㅤ

00:07

ㅤㅤ

Y/N took her best friend's hands and brought them to her lips, leaving a small cute kiss on them.

ㅤㅤ

00:06

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“I'm so sorry she said ‘no’.” Jules whispered.

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“I'm very sorry that she said no. Natasha misses an amazing woman, J.”

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“I was talking about Wanda.”

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00:05

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Y/N swallowed hard. “She will be okay.”

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Wanda. Y/N spent the last moments of her life thinking about her, trying to comfort her best friend, but Wanda never left her mind or her heart. How could she do it? She loved that woman with all her heart. If only they had both been less stubborn. If only they had talked more about what they felt. Y/N wished been less stubborn, maybe accept that Wanda didn't love her anymore, and just keep a friendship. She wished many things within seconds of it all being over. She wanted Wanda to find the love she deserved, cause at least Y/N did it.

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00:04

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At the same time, on the surface of that hotel, Steve was ordering everyone to back off. The Sokovian used her powers to hold off the mercenaries' shots, giving Sam time to fire at them and hold them back. Wanda approached impatiently, noticing how the agents backed away, but neither of them was Y/N.

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“Where's Y/N?!” She asked again, panicking. She felt her heart sink.

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“We must move out of here! Now!” Steve shook his head rather hurriedly, but Wanda ignored him. She just walked into the hotel, being followed by Natasha.

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“Y/N?!”

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She looked around but didn't even know where to run. She couldn't even read her mind, with so much chaos around her.

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“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?”

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00:03

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Y/N kissed her best friend's forehead and stayed with her arms around her.

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“I love you, Hale.” She whispered to her.

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“I love you, Y/L/N.” Jules replied, closing her eyes. Giving up.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

00:02

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“Y/N?!” Wanda's screams echoed, but Y/N never heard her. Natasha took Wanda's arm pulling her up, making sure to get her out of there before the bomb went off.

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The terror of the unknown and the inexplicable. Neither knew what they would face when the clock reached its limit, the consequences that could leave. None of the mercenary soldiers had any idea what they were dealing in, and Rumlow escaped. When the seconds ran out and the clock marked the end of the countdown, the metal artifact opened, breaking all those crystals. There was no explosion, not a huge noise that caused terror in the San Juan residents.

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A gaseous substance, a purple mist began to come out of the crystals, surrounding and embracing the bodies of those women. Panic came to both of them as the mist covered their bodies and began to form a black sticky and slimy substance that hardened on their skin, like a cocoon. The feeling of rock crawling up her body from her.

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Jules trembled and clung to Y/N's body. Y/N could only keep calm and think about the most beautiful moments in her life. Her first kiss with Wanda, the laughter and the passionate kisses they shared in bed after making love. Her first Christmas with a family like the Avengers, the times she had fought with Yelena, hating each other until they became best friends. Their first snowball fight. When Natasha kicked her ass in anger for skipping one of her practices, when Wanda told her that she loved her.

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‘I love you, Y/N... I’m in love with you.’ A huge smile lit up Wanda’s face. Those huge green eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

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“Everything will be okay.” Y/N whispered feeling how that cocoon crawled her limbs, she knew it wasn't going to be okay. Y/N hugged her friend's body until that rock ended up completely covering them, leaving two rocky figures in that container.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

After the mist was gone, an hour later the S.H.I.EL.D science team arrived at the hotel so they could make sure it was safe. Banner assured that there was no type of radiation or danger, so Steve ordered to enter. Wanda was the first to do it, but she barely crossed the threshold of the door, her legs began to shake. Her weakness, the awful pain in her heart. In her mind. In her soul. She fell to her knees, and the tears began to fall. The screams of pain.

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Everyone watched the scene sadly; how two dark rock figures embracing each other inside that container. The doors opened back when the timer reached zero, as if it were a sadistic joke.

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Tears soon fell on Natasha's face, even on Steve, watching that terrifying and sad moment played out in front of them, like a tragic play.

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Next will be Wanda's point of view.

I think if you've seen Agents of Shield, you'll know about the inhumans outbreak. But if not, I will tell you that this is not the end for them.

Chapter two awaits.

And I must say, it is not linked to AoS. It's just naming the same event, differently.

Link

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader

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