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stardust-and-snickerdoodles · 4 years

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I’m Sure They’ll Understand pt. 2

part 1

fandom: MCU

pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

summary: It’s been a couple months since the party and you’re officially free of HYDRA’s hold on you. The memories still remain, along with the guilt, but at least there’s no chance of reverting back to a murderous super soldier. Steve wants you to try to meet the Avengers once more, and despite your fear, you agree.

warnings: angst

word count: 2017

a/n: i got a little carried away... oops.

“You want to bring her on a mission? Did those seventy years in the ice freeze your braincells, too?” Tony glares at Steve across the conference room. The whole team is assembled to discuss an upcoming mission and Steve has just announced his decision to bring you along. “The party was one thing, but this is serious business.”

Steve meets his glare steadily. “Shuri said she’s clear for action. She managed to override all the programming that HYDRA implemented. Plus, Y/N’s not going to be doing any fighting. I just want her to have a chance to bond with you guys.”

Natasha clears her throat and sits up a little straighter. “Look, Steve, I want you to know that I support you and Y/N. But frankly, it’s not the best idea for her to be exposed to HYDRA so soon after deprogramming.”

“Even I couldn’t go on missions for a few months after I came out of cryo again,” Bucky cuts in, tapping his fingers on the table. “It’s nothing against Y/N, it’s just…”

“It’s just you don’t trust her,” Steve says accusingly, sweeping his across the whole room. His team members can’t meet his eyes. He continues, “Y/N deserves your trust. She’s been working so hard for the last year to get better. All the things that she did with HYDRA weren’t her fault.” Steve turns to look at Bucky again. “Buck, I expected some understanding from you at least. None of us hold you responsible for anything you did in the past.” Bucky looks down at his hands guiltily. “So why is it so different for Y/N?”

“Steve,” Natasha says gently. “We’re not trying to attack you or Y/N here. We’re trying to do what’s best for the team. And teaming up with someone who willingly joined HYDRA, not to mention injured you, doesn’t seem smart.” Natasha holds her hand up when Steve begins to interrupt. “I know she had no other choice. But she’s still a liability.”

The fight has died from Steve’s voice. “Just give her a chance. I’ll even stay in the quinjet with her during the mission. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“Not a chance, capsicle,” Tony interjects. “Fury wants you taking point on this one. If anyone’s going to stay with her, it’s the Manchurian Candidate over there.” He nods his head toward Bucky.

Bucky’s face is a mixture of disappointment and anger. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one who’s been through the same sort of thing Y/N has,” Natasha explains. “You can empathize with her situation.”

Bucky crosses his arms but doesn’t say anything else. The logic is sound, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

“So, she can come?” Steve asks, trying to keep from sounding like a giddy child.

There’s silence as the rest of the team exchange glances. Steve can hear his heart pounding in his ears. All he wants is for the team to accept you. No matter your past or the horrible things you were forced to do. He wants them to see you like he sees you – beautiful, intelligent, and worthy of love and compassion.

Tony sighs and drags a hand across his face, sighing. “As long as she stays in the jet.”

…

“I didn’t think we’d be going on a whole-ass mission, Stevie,” you murmur as you pull on one of your boots. The rest of the Avengers have been giving you a wide berth while you all get ready. You eye them all nervously, watching them prepare. The only one who has even spoken to you is, of course, Steve. “You said you just wanted me to hang out with them.”

He offers you a small, reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Y/N. It’s a small base; nothing out of the ordinary anyway.”

You tug your other boot on and stand. Even though you’re not going to be doing any fighting, you’re still suited up in a black and forest green bodysuit, along with your signature black hood. You’re not allowed any guns, but your preferred weapon is a bow so you don’t need them anyway. You do, however, have one small knife sheathed at each hip; it’s the most the team would let you have. Your quiver feels empty without any arrows in it, but you understand that the team’s safety is priority. And although there’s no chance of you reverting back to your brainwashed ways, you can tell the Avengers still don’t trust you.

You pat Steve on the shoulder and move closer to the doors of the prep room, hopping from one foot to another as nerves surge through you. You have your back to the rest of the team so you don’t have to deal with their worried glances any longer.

Bucky moves to stand next to Steve, who is adjusting one of the straps on his suit. Bucky sighs as he looks at you. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Steve,” he says.

“And frankly, I don’t care,” Steve shoots back before walking toward you without another word. Bucky shakes his head and continues to get ready.

Steve places a gentle hand on your arm and you stop your anxious movement. “Ready?” he asks.

You nod and look at the waiting quinjet outside. “I just wish we’d get a move on. I don’t know how much longer I can stand here without throwing something.”

Steve looks at you with worry in his eyes as the rest of the team glances around nervously.

You roll your eyes. “I’m kidding,” you say a little louder, trying to set everyone at ease.

A few moments later, Tony claps his hands together and announces that it’s time to leave. You mumble a quick “thank God” and head out the doors to the jet.

You sit close to the back, leaving a seat for Steve to join you if he wants to. Everyone else takes seats toward the front and you try not to be offended by the amount of space they leave between you and them. Steve sits down next to you though and you flash him a grateful smile.

The ride to the HYDRA base is nearly silent, the tension thick in the air. The team’s thoughts are preoccupied with both the mission and your possible actions. Meanwhile, you attempt to lighten your own mood by playing Sticks with Steve. He’s much better at it than you are but it’s a good distraction. Your soft giggles and words float up to the front of the jet where everyone else is sitting.

“Ten bucks says they’re making out by the end of the mission,” Sam whispers, his own attempt at an icebreaker.

Nat snorts. “I say by the time we get to the base.”

“Deal.” Sam smirks and they shake hands. A bit of the tension lifts and a conversation starts up between the rest of the team members.

You’re half-paying attention to their voices when you hear your name. It’s Nat, trying to get your attention. “Y/N! Clint wants to know what kind of arrows you prefer.”

You blink slowly, trying to register the words. Someone wants to know about you? Your Sticks game forgotten, you fidget nervously with the hilt of one of your knives. “Um,” you start, clearing your throat, “I use smoke bomb arrows a lot. Good for cover when you’re trying to get through a place that’s heavily crowded with hostiles. Sonic arrows are good for distractions.”

Clint nods and takes a few arrows from his quiver. He hands them to Nat, who passes them down the line of chairs to you. You take them hesitantly, noticing that they’re a mix of the two types of arrows you mentioned.

Tony frowns and says to Clint, “I thought we said no weapons.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “They’re barely weapons. They don’t do any damage besides stunning, at the most. Besides, I’m considering it a welcome gift.”

“A welcome gift? For what?” Tony asks, incredulous.

“The Avengers, obviously. It doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

The two guys look over at you and Steve. The two of you are now holding hands lightly. As they watch, Steve brushes a strand of hair out of your face and you blush.

Tony hums lightly but doesn’t say anything else.

You can’t help but notice that the rest of the team seems a little more at ease since Clint’s peace offering. A few times, some of the other members ask simple questions but it doesn’t often branch into a longer conversation. Still, you’re happy that they seem to be learning to accept you.

Once you arrive at the base, Steve stands and briefly explains the mission, reiterating once again that you will remain in the jet with Bucky. Things move quickly from there, with Steve handing you an earpiece and instructing you on how to use it before leading the rest of the team out of the jet. You watch them leave, sending up a quick prayer that everyone returns safely.

Once it’s just you and Bucky, you glance around the jet. Bucky hasn’t moved except to take a knife from its sheath and begin to flip it absentmindedly. The tension from before is back, even stronger now.

You can hear the team talking through the earpiece but you barely pay any attention. It’s mostly Tony making jokes and Steve instructing the others on where to go. Eventually, the silence inside the jet gets to you and you have to say something. You clear your throat and Bucky turns to look at you, his face unreadable. “So… is your specialty knives?” You immediately feel dumb for asking such a ridiculous question but can’t do anything about it now.

Bucky shrugs and flips his knife again. “Don’t really have much of a specialty. Used to be a sniper. HYDRA trained me in everything though.”

You nod and silence settles in the air again. Bucky seems to be closed off, which is why it surprises you when he speaks once more, “I remember you from… then. When we were with HYDRA.”

The way he says “when we” makes it sound like some sort of pact. Like some shared trauma that ties you together. You force your mouth to not smile and meet his eyes. “I remember you, too.”

“They called you Ranger, right?”

A tingle goes down your spine at the old name. “Yeah. I don’t use that anymore, though. Too many bad associations.”

Bucky nods, and you think you see a little empathy on his face. “It’s the same with me and the Winter Soldier.” He pauses and there’s hesitation in his voice when he says, “I don’t… I don’t hate you, you know.”

Your eyes widen a bit. “God, Bucky, I never thought that. I know how hard it must be to trust me, though.” You run the edge of your fingernail along your thumb unconsciously, one of those little tics that you do when you’re nervous. You laugh quickly, “Hell, sometimes I don’t even trust myself. So I get it. I don’t expect you to-”

Suddenly, you hear a flurry of gunshots through your earpiece. There are shouts and bangs, all assaulting you at once. You try to focus on one sound, one voice, but everyone is talking over each other. Bucky sits up a little straighter and presses a finger against his earpiece. “What’s going on?” he demands.

“Barnes!” Tony’s voice comes through finally, louder than the rest of the commotion. “We need backup in here; the base is larger than we thought.”

Bucky immediately stands and you start to follow suit, preparing to fight. But Bucky stops you with one hand held out. “What about Y/N?”

There’s no response for a little bit. Finally, Tony again, “Bring her in.”

As you gear up, Bucky shows you where Clint’s extra arrows are and you begin to load them into your quiver. The earpiece is once again only filled with the sounds of gunfire. That is, until Sam’s voice breaks through with three words that shatter your heart.

“Rogers is down!”

>>>

part 3

tags: @aspie-allie @ashwarren32

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

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Moving Night

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: The three of you finally move out! But now you are very tired and very cranky. A/N: 4 of ?? Snapshots between you, Steve, and Bucky. In the same canon as Mystery of Love– check it out first :)

The last of the boxes have been unpacked, made quick work of under the determined hands of Steve and impatient hands of Bucky. It is midnight and Bucky is ripping apart cardboard and piling them by the corner of the entranceway. Steve is arranging dishes into cabinets with quiet clunks and careful precision, handling the ceramic ware as lightly as he can.

After another shelf has been stuffed full, he stands back to inspect his handiwork.

“What do you think about this arrangement?” He asks, completely serious.

You are splayed out on the newly mopped hardwood floor dramatically, arms outstretched, legs bent, as if you are a murder victim about to be traced be chalk. Steve and Bucky both have chosen to ignore you for the past fifteen minutes, letting you be because they know better than to encourage you.

“Beautiful.” You announce, cheek pressed to the floor. “Fantastic. Wonderful. Amazing. What a configuration of wine glasses and mugs.”

Bucky snorts in the distance and Steve only rolls his eyes, “I’m serious!” He scolds.

“Let’s go to go bed!” You whine in return, kicking your legs and planting your sock-covered feet until you are spinning slowly in a wide circle with your head and shoulder as the center point. It’s rare for you to be such a brat, but you are dead-tired and hate unpacking. The sheer amount of brainpower it takes to visualize where everything goes and how makes you pessimistic and limp.

The last two apartments you moved into, you were living a minimalist Marie-Kondo type of life, with your camera as your only prized possession. Since then, you have accumulated more clothing, more dishes, more towels, more of everything because there are two other people involved and they both are very specific when it comes to their needs.

Bucky needs so many pairs of socks. Steve needs house-shoes. Bucky needs throw blankets. Steve needs all of his books. They both love houseplants and handheld shower heads and locally sourced coffee beans and what the hell are wool dryer balls, Steve?

Naturally, the boxes piled on until they were way over your head and taking up all the space in the living room. You could no longer visualize where anything went along with when oh when will this be all put away?

“Honey, will ya help me out?” Steve grumbles from the kitchen as he sorts through cleaning supplies. “We decided to move into our own place, so now we need to—“

“Yeah, yeah. We need to make it feel like a home.” You reply, shutting your eyes. When you open them again, the overhead light is blocked because Bucky is hovering over you with a feline smirk.

“Is baby feeling tired?” He teases, “Strong girl, you carried so many boxes today.”

You roll your eyes because compared to them, the boxes you carried were featherweight and while they continued unpacking all you have done is put things in the upstairs bathroom and fixed a space for you to get ready in the morning. Most of the clothes had been sorted into the right closets, but upon seeing the still half-full living room of packed away objects downstairs, you grew exhausted.

Bucky leans down until he’s on his knees and gives you an upside-down kiss, tasting of the slightest hint of salt from his sweat. It didn’t help that the move was made in August when the sun seemed to be the hottest regardless of whether or not it’s true. It had been a terribly scorching day. “Just another hour, dollface, until Steve’s ready.”

You frown. “He won’t be ready until it’s all finished.”

From the kitchen, a drawer shuts before Steve appears, shirt sleeves rolled all the way up over his shoulders and hands on his hips. “What was that?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Stevie, honey,” You sigh, “My darling, my sunshine…” Bucky sits back and shakes his head; you are laying it on thick. “My golden lion, my Hercules and—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” They both say in unison to the way your mouth curls up into a smirk. One more second and you would have turned raunchy— listing the ways he’s well endowed like a god, too.

“I wanna go to sleep!” You say petulantly, “It’s almost two and we’ve been up since six and I know you two are big, strong, super boys, but I am tired! If I had any energy left at all, I’d help but I don’t!” You turn uselessly, side to side.

Bucky is more prone to letting you have your way, so he shrugs before looking up to Steve who sighs deeply, letting his head roll back. “You are so spoiled.”

Your eyelids flutter as you chew on your lip, doing your best impression of a timid little girl under his scrutiny. Even your hands clasp together, and you flex them straight down, pulling your shoulders up to rest your cheek on.

Steve sighs with a tiny smirk.

A smile breaks across your face, proudly displaying your teeth as you squeal and sit up quickly. In a snap, you launch yourself onto Steve’s torso and wrap your legs around him.

“Yes!” Then, you pepper kisses all over his face and down his neck and your hands lift the back of his shirt up, fingers digging into his muscles. “Thank you! Love you, love you, love—“

“Why, honey,” Steve mumbles under your mouth as another kiss lands on his lips, “You’ve suddenly got so much energy for someone so tired.”

And you wilt once more, like a flower trampled under the searing blaze of summer sun. “One more box?” He asks, sending Bucky an impish wink.

“No! More! Boxes! Just! Go! To! Bed!” You beat your fists on his chest and thrash against his hips until you run out of breath and slump against him. “What?” you ask when his grip tightens.

Bucky puts his arm around Steve’s shoulders and peers at you. “Nice job, baby. Smart way to distract him.”

“You want to go to bed?” Steve mumbles, licking his lips. You feel it then, against your center, Steve growing stiff and large. From your tantrum in his arms, you’ve rocked all over him in just the right way. “I’ll take you to bed.” He puffs into your ear, “I’ll take you to bed, alright. ‘m gonna get you real tired, baby.”

Bucky is laughing now, cackling at the way you lean back and let your arms hang like boiled noodles to your side. One of Steve’s arms braces your spine while the other one curls around your bottom under your thigh. No, you are actually tired now. It’s almost two, and you have genuinely tuckered yourself out by violently flailing. Your last fucking braincell is counting sheep branded with red and white stars.

Steve’s last braincell seems to be in between his legs. “Bucky, please.” You moan, “Save me.”

“I’ll volunteer as tribute.” Bucky shrugs nonchalantly and you dramatically put the back of your hand over your forehead while Steve walks your flaccid body upstairs.

“Oh, thank you kind sir. Steve, did you hear that? Bucky’s gonna take my place. So brave.”

With one eye, you peek up at him as a smirk grows over his face.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. We’ll see how long this little act of yours lasts when I get my mouth on ‘im.”

Your body bounces off the mattress and you grunt a little, tugging the sheet over your body and turn on your side. Your eyelids are so heavy and dull, neck and shoulders aching, not to mention your poor feet from standing up all day.

A shirt gets tossed on your face and you swat it away in irritation before another one lands in the same place. You pull the cover over your head, determined to endure them and pull through your mission of getting rest.

Someone’s palm lands on someone else with a sharp thwack. Throaty chuckles arise before being smothered by a groaning mouth. Tongues touch and lips smack lewdly. And then, good fucking lord, the bed starts to rock as two voices pant and purr in unison.

“Fuck yes,” Bucky laughs, “Goddamn it, you’re so good.”

Butterflies are whipping around in your stomach. Steve is slurping and sucking noisily, and they both are exchanging husky breaths full of praise about who’s mouth is softer until they are both groaning into each other. You are desperately trying to count sheep but the images in your head are turning the sheep into naked little caricatures of your men, running at you instead.

“Oh, fuck you two!” You exclaim, angrily yanking the sheet down.

They are both lying on their sides, wrapped under the comforter up to their necks, as if you’ve stumbled in on them merely relaxing. No hair is misplaced on Steve nor Bucky’s head, and they look completely unruffled and serene, quirking their eyebrows at you on the edge of the mattress, fuming to yourself.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, face contorted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not going to sleep, baby?” Steve prompts, tilting his head.

You scramble out of the sheet and throw yourself on top of Steve, tearing the blanket off and then shoving two fingers into Bucky’s chest, twisting the ever-loving fuck out of his nipple. “Teach me a fuckin’ lesson, here’s what I have to say to that.” You snap before doing the same to Steve. They both yelp in pain and cover themselves, shocked that you would be so rough.

Then, you cross your arms and huff. “Lesson learned, boys. Now,” you narrow your eyes at them, “I’m going to sleep.”

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #Mystery of Love heli0s

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