you’re getting restless and bucky realizes long before you say anything; it’s in the way your fingers keep absentmindedly tugging at the sleeves of your sweater, the way you shift every few seconds where you’re sitting beside him on the couch, unable to settle no matter how hard you try. he doesn’t ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t think everything needs to be explained with words. instead, he simply glances over from the book he’d barely been reading, closes it without a sound, and pats his thigh in quiet invitation.
you look at him for a second before understanding, smiling just a little as you scoot closer until your head rests comfortably in his lap. “is it better now?,” he murmur, voice rough with that familiar brooklyn warmth, one corner of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. almost instinctively, his flesh hand slides into your hair.
his fingers comb carefully through the strands before lightly scratching against your scalp. every movement is gentle, deliberate, as though he’s handling something precious. his metal hand rest against your shoulder, cool and steady, keeping you close while the other continued its quiet work. you don’t even realize how tense you have been until your entire body begins to sink into the cushions beneath you.
bucky’s fingertips drift from your hairline toward the back of your head before returning again, repeating the same soothing pattern over and over. he has gotten completely lost in taking care of you. “that feels nice?” he ask quietly. you only hum, eyes already closed. “figured.” he voice again, tone quieter and fond.
silence settles between you, but with bucky it never feels empty. it’s comfortable, safe, filled only with the faint sound of his breathing and the slow rhythm of his fingers moving through your hair. every so often he’d brush his thumb lightly over your temple, his eyes looking at you properly. after a while he smile to himself, still playing with your hair. “you’re falling asleep on me,” he whisper, amusement hidden beneath the tenderness in his voice.
you’d barely manage a sleepy, “maybe.” his fingers never stop moving. “that’s okay,” he murmur. “i’ll stay right here, doll.”
Dating Steve Rogers meant constantly being reminded of just how big he was. Not just tall—but broad, solid, built like something unreal. His hands alone could cover most of your waist, fingers spreading like he needed to ground himself in you. And the way he’d pull you close? Effortless. Like you weighed nothing. You’d catch the looks sometimes—people noticing how easily he dwarfed you—but Steve never made it feel intimidating. If anything, it felt… safe. Until he’d lean down, voice low in your ear, grip tightening just slightly like he knew exactly what he was doing—and suddenly that size difference felt like something else entirely.
2. secretly a freak (and nobody believes you)
No one on the team believes you. Not Sam, not Bucky—no one. To them, Steve is all polite smiles, old-fashioned charm, and “language!” when someone swears too loud. But you know better. You’ve seen the way his eyes darken when it’s just the two of you. The way his voice drops, softer but heavier, when he’s close. He’s controlled—always controlled—but that’s what makes it worse. Because when that control slips, even a little? Yeah… no one would believe it. And honestly, you’ve stopped trying to convince them. It’s your secret—and the way Steve looks at you across the room sometimes tells you he’s perfectly fine keeping it that way.
3. romantic for no reason (especially after missions)
Steve is the definition of romantic, but it hits different after missions. Especially the ones where things get too close. You’ll notice it immediately—he gets quieter at first, more attentive. Then suddenly, he’s planning something. A dinner, a walk, something simple but intentional. It’s never about the place—it’s about you. The way he watches you, like he’s grounding himself in the fact that you’re still there. That he made it back to you. He won’t always say it out loud, but you feel it in everything he does—the way his hand lingers in yours, the softness in his voice. Loving you is how he comes back to himself.
4. soft mornings
Mornings with Steve are… unfairly sweet. You’re usually half-asleep when you feel it—soft kisses against your face, your jaw, your shoulder. He wakes you up gently, like there’s no rush, like the world can wait. And then there’s the smell—breakfast. Because of course he’s already been up, already made something for you. When you finally open your eyes, he’s right there, smiling softly, tray in hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Morning,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. And just like that, you’re starting your day wrapped in warmth, in care, in him.
If your ok with doing a Bucky request where he had a bad nightmare and the next day he's really clingy with fem!reader/girlfriend.
(If that makes sense if not that's ok too.)
I love Bucky sm
—————
You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend, refusing to let yourself melt under his wide, doe eyes yet again today. Not letting your body fold into his when he wrapped his arms securely around your waist and tried to bring you to his chest.
Something was wrong.
Sure, Bucky Barnes had always been very physically affectionate with you, ever since you two started dating. Whether it be with random hugs, small kisses peppered onto the back of your neck as you’re cooking, or securely holding onto your hand whenever you two were in public.
Today, though, it had been different. His arms would linger around your waist a little longer than normal. He would trial after you whenever you even attempted to leave the same room as him. You had to physically pry his hands off of your wrist so that you could use the bathroom in peace.
“What’s wrong, Buck?” You asked suspiciously.
“What do you mean, doll?” He mumbled innocently, leaning his head forward when you didn’t move your own body to meet his, and gently placed his head into the crook of your neck, deeply breathing in your scent.
Your eyes fluttered for a moment at the feeling, before you quickly shook your head to snap yourself out of it, eyebrows furrowing instead, “What’s wrong?” Your voice was gentler this time, and you reached over to run your hand through his soft hair.
He let out a quiet sigh, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Came another mumble against the bare skin of your collar.
Defiantly, you huffed and pushed yourself away from him, ignoring the small whine that would have made your heart feel like jelly in any other given situation, “Tell me what’s gotten into you today, James.”
That made him pause.
True, only you were allowed to call him James, but that didn’t mean you did it very often. You reserved that for serious matters and rare fights. Evidently, this was one of the two.
“I- I just love you so much,” He stuttered out, reaching up and softly caressing the side of your face.
“I love you too, you know I do.” You gently grabbed his hand and squeezed, “Which is why I need to to tell me whats the matter.”
He swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from yours as he allowed a silence to fall over the two of you and drag on for a few painful moments.
“I had a nightmare,” He blurted out suddenly, cheeks turning red from an embarrassment you knew he shouldn’t have to feel about the topic, “It-it was so real, doll. So damn real. You- you were hurt by one of my enemies a-and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
Your heart broke when you noticed the tears that began to make his eyes glisten, “Oh, Buck…” It was then your turn to caress the side of his face.
“I-I know it’s stupid, and I know that you’re safe, but… I just can’t help but be scared- terrified. I can’t lose you, doll.” He now looked you dead in the eyes as he spoke, a level urgency in his tone that you had never heard from anyone before. Ever. “I just can’t.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” You whispered, making sure he could see how sincere you were being, “I promise you, we aren’t going to lose each other.”
“But, what if-“
“No.” You spoke firmly, bringing both hands up to cradle his face, “Listen to me, James. You and I are both going to be fine. Nothing is going to happen to either of us. You understand me?”
He gulped, knowing that once you made up your mind, which you so clearly had about this, nothing would change it.
“Yeah… yeah, you’re right, doll.” He leaned forward and pressed a long kiss on your temple, “I’m sorry.”
Finally, you allowed yourself to fall into his embrace, “There’s nothing to apologize for, Buck.”
Notes: a short comfort fic to make up for my recent creativity drought; no major warnings, descriptions of eating and cooking, tooth-rotting fluff. No reader pronouns.
Sitting at the kitchen table, one foot tucked under your leg and the other swinging softly through the air, you decided that you wanted to live in this moment forever.
Bucky stood a few feet away, filling you in on his week while he prepared breakfast. You bit back a smile as he started another story about his adventures with Sam, waving the spatula in his hand while he spoke.
The warmth of mid-morning had crept into the room, leaving you grateful for the thin, mismatched pajamas that you had worn to bed the night before. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen curtains stole your attention momentarily as you traced the spots where the rays landed on the wooden tabletop in front of you.
“Blueberries or strawberries?” Bucky spoke, drawing your attention to the plate of golden-brown pancakes held in his vibranium hand.
“Bananas,” you answered decidedly.
The first time Bucky had attempted his hand at cooking, you’d spent the morning scraping pancake batter from the cabinets, consoling your chagrined counterpart and his wounded ego. After countless attempts, he’d managed to fine-tune his technique, proudly showing off his skills with any chance he got.
“Bananas,” he echoed, grabbing the fruit from its place on the countertop.
This had become a tradition for the two of you – spending Sunday mornings away from the rest of the world, enjoying each other’s company in secluded bliss.
Bucky slid your plate in front of you, placing a kiss to your hairline before settling into his seat. You grinned gratefully at him, mumbling your thanks and grabbing the maple syrup from the middle of the table.
Fixing your plate in silence, you appreciated the familiar clinking of silverware against porcelain – the sound of good company and simple pleasure.
Bucky poured his coffee, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his mug. To anyone else, the hint of sweetness would go unnoticed; you thought the saccharine undertone was the perfect analogy for your brunet counterpart.
You passed the syrup over to Bucky, licking the sticky sweetness from your thumb with a pleased hum. He accepted the bottle from you, mindful of the molasses trailing down the side.
“This looks amazing,” you praised, eyes wide as saucers as you admired Bucky’s work.
The fluffy pancakes were perfectly centered on your plate, framed by the green ivy wreath that adorned all of your dishes. Bucky had picked the set himself, noting that the print reminded him of the chipped, faded set that his mother had owned. Still sometimes, he imagined her joining the two of you for Sunday breakfast, like two lifetimes melded together over tiny, shared details.
“Thank you, sugar,” he replied from behind his steaming mug.
You grabbed your fork from the table, digging into your breakfast happily. Bucky followed suit, picking a strawberry from the edge of his plate and popping it into his mouth.
The two of you shared light conversation through mouthfuls of food, appreciating the moment of stillness in your everchanging lives. No matter what you were faced with, Sunday would always meet you again.
Bucky finished first, pushing his plate away with a groan. “I always make too many pancakes,” he noted, running his hand over his face.
“There’s no such thing as too many pancakes,” you laughed, pointing your fork in his direction.
You finished eating just after Bucky, praising him again before gathering the dishes to wash.
“Let me help,” Bucky offered, grabbing the mugs and following you to the sink.
The two of you worked in tandem, close enough that your shoulders touched while standing over the soapy water. You took over scrubbing the dirty dishes while Bucky stood beside you with a towel over his shoulder.
“What should we do today?” you asked, handing Bucky a plate to dry.
“Maybe a nap,” he suggested after a thoughtful pause.
You shook your head playfully, laughing at his plans. “We just woke up.”
He left your side momentarily, putting the clean dishes away before returning and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“It’s Sunday,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “We deserve to relax.”
“That’s true,” you agreed, drying your hands and leaning into Bucky’s frame behind you. “I can never argue with your logic.”
The two of you were quick to settle on the couch, a pile of blankets pooling over you and Alpine curled up at your feet. The feline had joined you just after breakfast, purring softly at the notion of a midday nap.
“Are you comfortable?” Bucky asked, his thumb tracing over your side as he held you close to his chest.
You hummed your approval, eyes fluttering shut with a sudden lethargy. You were exactly where you needed to be – wrapped in Bucky’s embrace on a lazy Sunday morning. Tomorrow, you return to your tumultuous lives; today, you revel in the quietude.
Summary: Natasha brings you to S.H.I.E.L.Ds helicarrier where you reunite with an old friend and meet a few new faces. Natasha and Fury let you in on the dangers they currently face and what exactly is at stake.
> Word Count: 3.2K
> Warnings: Like one or two cuss words, nothing else.
A/N: Okay guys, this part is a bit beefier than the last, but y’all deserve it. Not a lot of Natasha n Reader interactions just yet, but when I write slow-burns... it’s slooowwww babeeyyy. It’ll be worth it in the end, though ;) I apologize for any grammatical errors, I only re-read once lol. Also- yes, I am so incredibly detail oriented that I looked up quantum sciencey shit for this. Love you crazy mfers. Enjoy :)
EDIT: Now in Second Person POV.
Pt. One | Pt. Three
——————————
You watched with watery eyes as the place you had called home for the last few years of your new life was torched, every last bit withering away under the heat that blanketed it.
You were not a happy camper.
“Was making me burn my house down really necessary?” You called as Natasha opened the door to the two-passenger plane, throwing in the last of your bags.
“Unfortunately, yes. You can’t leave any trace behind. It’s just how things go from now on.” She turned back around to face you, the flames from the house throwing an amber hue over you both. “I think it’s good now, you can put it out.”
You let it go for a second longer, letting yourself grow calm in the warmth it provided. You could tell Natasha was growing impatient- evident from the heavy sighs that kept falling from her lips. At last you let your eyes flutter close, focusing just long enough for the flames to simmer down until the orange glow disappeared completely.
Along with your ability to start fires, you’re also capable of putting them out- ones large enough to put an entire fire department to shame. And you can do it almost instantly as long as your concentration doesn’t waver. You’re still not one hundred percent sure how it works, but tests that were ran on you back in the institution concluded that you can suck the oxygen from an area, essentially suffocating the fires you start just by looking at them.
It’s weird, but you don’t question it.
It’s not like you can question it, anyway.
“Great. Let’s go now.” Natasha huffed as she climbed in the plane, keeping the door open for you as you slid in behind her. She kept her eyes trained on you while you buckled in and pushed on the headset, her long stare making the hairs on your arm stand straight under your coat. She mumbled something you didn’t catch, pushing down buttons on the main control panel as she got you air-born. With one last fleeting look to the ash below you watched as the plane climbed higher in altitude, the rubble quickly fading from sight.
You got comfortable in the leather seats, assessing her carefully as she continued to control the plane with ease. “So is Fury still caught up in the whole Avengers Initiative thing? Or is that old news?”
She kept her eyes forward as though maybe she didn’t even hear you speak. You thought that was the case until she began to answer you.
“How long has it been since you’ve talked to him?”
More like question you.
You hummed as you thought. “Probably eight weeks or so.”
“It’s part of the reason why I was asked to get you. We have a few others that will be joining us, and I’m sure Fury will be willing to explain it better when we get there. But the Avengers Initiative is still on, and he wants you to be part of it.”
——
The ride to the helicarrier, as Natasha had called it, wasn’t as long as you were expecting. You landed just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, it’s harsh rays flitting in your eyes every so often. The carrier was in the middle of the ocean, which made your stomach churn a bit. You weren’t the biggest fan of open bodies of water.
Guess you should’ve mentioned that earlier.
The two of you exited the plane and made your way onto the top platform. Natasha was walking ahead of you, her chin up and shoulders back, an epitome of confidence. “The rest of them are already here, but I think Nick would like to see you first.”
Of course he would.
You followed her across the platform and down to the inside of the helicarrier. It was much bigger than it seemed from the outside, and after you crossed a few hallways you made it to the front where it opened up into a massive room with long, curved windows facing north. It was lined with computers and machines, each one being poked at by an agent of Fury’s, their eyes locked in concentration. Dozens of voices rang out, calling orders left and right to whoever was listening. Natasha kept walking to the center platform, her steps growing slower as you finally caught sight of the man himself.
“Fury, I think Christmas came early this year.” Natasha nearly sang, getting the attention of the tall, one-eyed man who wore dark leather all over and sported a stubbly beard. His good eye lit up as you approached closer, an impressed smirk on his face.
“And I thought this day would never come, Y/n. How the hell did you do it, Romanoff?” Fury laughed, leaning himself against a buzzing control panel.
“Persuasion is my strong suit, remember?” She teased, standing impossibly close to you. You held a neutral face, hoping you didn’t look too bitchy, but not caring enough if that was the case.
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Y/l/n. We are more than happy to have you here.”
You shifted a bit, rolling your weight on the back of your heels. “I’m sure you are. I’d say I’m happy to be here, but I uh- I don’t like to lie, so.”
He chuckled lightly, bowing his head for a moment as he did so. “Oh trust me, I know. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve ended a phone call with you with my ego severely bruised after. It always comes back to me though.” He looked behind himself for a moment. “On second thought, maybe she’ll bring you out of that funk of yours.”
You stepped out to see around him, and it didn’t take you long to realize what he meant when a lanky brunette woman nearly strangled you as she came in for a hug.
“Y/n? Holy shit! I really didn’t think they’d get you here.”
Maria Hill. The one person here you didn’t completely hate.
You had first spoken to Maria seven years ago when you were in the institution, also called The Roth Institute for Destructive and Extraordinary Children- T.R.I.D.E.C, for short. Her and Fury had some sort of secret operation going on and were in cahoots with the directors of T.R.I.D.E.C.
Not exactly, though.
They were intentionally double crossing them, acting as though they were playing into the directors ideas for the children of the institution, when in reality- they were scoping. Not only were they looking for people like you to help free, but they were trying to take down the entirety of T.R.I.D.E.C.
They failed, however, and quite miserably at that. T.R.I.D.E.C was smart in their operations, knowing that all of the kids were put there “willingly” by their parents and guardians with permission. Fury could never gather enough sufficient information to use against them, so the case went dead and they left.
But- not before they spoke to you.
Since you were the golden child of the institute, your name always piqued the interest of any guests, good or bad. You never knew which was which. Maria had you taken to a quiet room where she asked basic questions, much to which you had no real answer.
Before you were taken back to your room, she slipped you a torn piece of construction paper that was folded meticulously into a tiny origami crane. She pressed her finger to her lips, indicating that you were to keep this crane a secret.
You were wonderful at keeping secrets.
Inside the origami crane was a phone number. It was the first one you called after you had escaped.
And it was Maria’s.
She helped you figure out different places you could go and who to get ahold of incase you ran into trouble. Once Fury had realized you were out, all he wanted to do was to get you to turn to S.H.I.E.L.D. You said no. They both understood why you turned it down, and why you hated organizations with intricate acronyms as names. While Fury still called a few times a year in hopes of persuading you, Maria did too.
But only to check on your well-being.
That’s why she’s a little higher on the friend list than Fury.
She squeezed at your sides a bit harder before releasing you, staring at you like some sort of lost puppy.
“Well, things have changed, I guess. You don’t know how glad I am to see you.” You said, noting how her face hadn’t changed a bit in the last seven years.
“See? Somehow, I’m always right.” Fury chuckled, dodging a smack to the shoulder from Maria. “Hey now- don’t scratch the leather.” He pointed, earning a look from the both of you.
“Romanoff- why don’t you show Y/l/n to her room? There’s a few things in there waiting for her.” Fury asked, turning to Natasha.
She stepped back to your side, shooting you an encouraging look. “Of course, follow me.”
——
“Blaze? Really? What kinda alias is that?” You scoffed, holding out the white card for Natasha to read. “I mean the suit is fine and all but… c’mon that name…” She grabbed the card while you looked yourself over in the mirror, stretching your limbs to get more comfortable in the material.
Fury had a tactile suit made for you, somehow getting your measurements perfect. It was an obsidian black with the material, all of it heat resistant and non-flammable. Tiny round lines of orange ran down throughout the suit, curving over each limb and down your torso. The part that covered your chest was assumedly bulletproof, the hard metal providing support and helping slightly with the nerves. It was surprisingly comfortable as well and had a few pockets and straps down the legs for extra weapons if needed.
“To be fair, it’s only for the media and public, anyway. We all have an alias, but yours is a little more important. We don’t want your real name to get out, not yet, at least. For your safety.” Natasha said, holding the card down to her side and letting her eyes trail over your image in the mirror. “Put the mask on, see how it fits.”
She nodded to the last piece of the suit that laid on a plush chair, a matching piece of black metal that would cover your face from your nose to under your chin, keeping your identity a secret. You lifted it up, tracing down the side of it with your fingers. With a quick sigh you put it on, snapping the piece together at the back of your head. Luckily most of your hair covered the sides and back, so it didn’t look weird once it was on.
“Push down,” Natasha started, grabbing your hand softly and holding it to the bottom right of the mask, “here.” She rested your index finger over a flat button you didn’t even notice was there before. You gave it a press, not hiding your surprise when the mask molded to the exact curve of your jaw, practically melting into the perfect fit. It tightened slightly, but there were tiny holes and a filter right by your mouth, so you weren’t worried about suffocating in there.
You did another once-over in the mirror, admiring the intricacy of the suit. “You can thank Stark for that mask, he’s the one who made it for you. He has quite the specialty in metalworking.” Natasha said, keeping her eyes on yours through the mirror. You nodded.
“Stark... that’s uh- Tony, right? Iron Man?” You asked, recalling some of the news channels you’ve seen him on.
“Mhm.” She confirmed.
You pressed the button on the mask and took it off, tossing it back on the chair. “He’s here already, yeah? Along with the others you mentioned?”
She hummed again. “They just got back, actually.”
You took one last glimpse at your reflection, wondering if this was really the face of some vigilante super-human savior they wanted you to be. You didn’t quite look the part yet, but things like that take time, right?
Right?
“I’m ready to meet them now.”
——
You tried your best to stop your hands from shaking as the both of you walked along a dimly lit corridor, but it wasn’t much use. As you neared the end you came to an open set of doors which led back to the main area you were in before. You noticed a large table ahead with a few people gathered around it, chatting amongst themselves.
Get it together, Y/n.
Instead of walking ahead, Natasha stayed close to your side, the two of you walking in tandem to the center of the room. She cleared her throat before speaking. “How’d it go?” She asked, looking down at one of the men who sat in a chair at the table.
Steve Rogers. Captain America.
“We got him. Fury has him locked down in one of the bottom floors- we’re trying to assess how to move forward.” He answered in a flat, serious voice. His gaze landed on you while he adjusted slightly in the chair. “Who’s this?”
Natasha stole a glance at you. “This is Y/n Y/l/n. Fury’s got her going by Blaze. She’ll be joining us while we figure out what to do with Loki and the scepter.”
You gave a weak, tight-lipped smile, taking a step forward closer to the table. Two other men stood around it, one you had also already known about thanks to the nightly news you kept an eye on.
Bruce Banner. The Hulk.
The other guy looked quite... otherworldly- his chiseled face and long golden strands of hair making him stand out. That- and the large red cape he sported down his back.
Bruce was the first to step up, holding out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Dr. Bruce Banner, it’s nice to meet you.” His hand was a lot warmer than you were expecting.
“Yeah, you too.”
The man in the cape was next. “Thor, son of Odin. I come from Asgard. Loki is my brother.” He took your hand like Bruce had, although his grip was... firm, to say the least. Had he pressed down any harder you surely would’ve come out of the handshake with a broken finger or two. He also spoke like some mid-century poet.
You quirked a brow, somewhat by accident, not quite understanding what he had said. “Asgard? Where’s that at?”
His chest rumbled with a quick laugh. “Oh, just a quick trip through the bi-frost of course.”
You gave a confused laugh in return, just accepting his answer instead of asking questions. “Right, the bi-frost, of course...”
“So they’re calling you Blaze, huh? Does that mean...” Steve started, getting your attention off of Thor.
With a slight nod you confirmed his question. “Yeah, I uh-” You started to answer before Fury waltzed in behind Natasha.
“She’s a human tiki-torch, Captain, nothing strange about that.” Fury called, leaving Steve to send an apologetic look your way.
You noticed how Bruce’s head tilted to the side, his mind clearly in deep thought. “Wait, like fire? How does that work?” He asked aloud, clearly not caring if it was insensitive to ask or not.
It wasn’t, you just thought it was funny.
“Oh, uh- my, my hands.” You answered, tripping over your words from being caught off guard.
His eyes went wide. “Your hands? Like...”
You threw a look at Fury for approval. He rolled his eye and gave a single nod.
Bringing your hand up chest-level and turning it over, it lit up, a palm-sized fire burning over your flesh. It flickered and twisted but stayed small. You brought your other hand up beside it, another fire starting in it. You looked up at Bruce.
“Like this.”
He opened his mouth to ask another question, but words came from behind you instead.
“Are we making s’mores and singing kumbaya over here? Oh- no that’s just little miss hothead being a show-off.”
Tony Stark. Iron Man.
You closed your palms, smothering the fire and flicking away the small trails of smoke it left behind. Bruce was still standing with his mouth wide open, looking at you and Fury incredulously. For a man who could turn into the (not so) jolly green giant when his anger boiled over, he seemed to be highly amused at your ability.
“Tony Stark, it is so nice to finally meet you.” Tony said, clasping his hand over yours despite the literal fire that was in it mere seconds ago. “How’s that mask working out? S’it fit?”
“Oh, yeah it fits great, actually. Thanks for making it for me.” You said, gaining some slight whiplash from everything going on.
“Don’t mention it, kid.” He smiled, giving your shoulder a slight pat before moving for the table.
Your mind went foggy as Tony began walking around, talking with Bruce and Steve about the Tesseract and the things this Loki guy had planned. Natasha gave you a short debriefing earlier about some of the things Loki was wanting.
Earth was the main trade off.
“He’d have to heat the Cube to one hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.” Bruce pointed out, a discussion about some sort of portal going on.
Coulomb barrier?
“He wouldn’t have to break through the barrier if one of them figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect. Does that scientist Selvig guy have the knowledge to do that?” You countered, wondering if that would even be possible.
All of their heads turned to you in sync, confusion written on all of their faces.
“Pardon?” Tony called.
You caught a whiff of sarcasm, but continued anyway. “Well, for this... portal. The Coulomb barrier is just an energy barrier, so to overcome it, particles must have sufficient thermal kinetic energy to exceed the Coulomb repulsion. Quantum tunneling, while going against the laws of classical mechanics, can still increase the particles probability of penetrating that barrier. It’s incredibly difficult to stabilize, but if done correctly, in theory... it could work.”
There was a long pause of silence.
“Yeah- so we already knew that, but- how... how do you know that?” Tony asked, holding out a finger that was pointed in your direction.
You shrugged your shoulders. “Dunno. I’m into science, I guess.”
Or science was one of the core subjects they drilled into your heads at T.R.I.D.E.C.
There was another pause while you pieced the information together.
“Wait, so Loki wants to open this portal to let his little alien space friends in, all so they can get the Tesseract and he can rule Earth?”
Fury gave a nod. “That seems to be the consensus.”
Tony took in a long, deep breath, running a hand along his greying facial hair. “You got anywhere important to be, kid? Because if not, I think you’ll be useful in the labs with myself and Dr. Banner.”
As you started to answer a gentle hand landed on the small of your back. “She should probably get some sleep first. It’s been a long day.”
It was Natasha.
As the words left her mouth you nearly let out a yawn, realizing it had been well over twenty four hours since you last slept.
“Yeah, she’s right. I probably won’t be as useful without a little shut-eye first. But I’d love to take you up on that offer still, if that’s alright?” You said, gazing up at Tony.
“Of course. Come find us whenever you’re ready, Third Degree.”
Hello! Could you do a blurb of yelena reacting to you complimenting her vest?? 😭
YELENA REACTING TO YOU COMPLIMENTING HER VEST
a/n: omg yes that idea is so cute !! tysm for sending it in <3
pairing: yelena belova x platonic!reader (no pronouns)
featuring: natasha romanoff
wc: 600 (approx.)
warnings: none.
It was a pretty chill day. You were laying down on the living room couch, enjoying your favorite drink while scrolling through an app on your phone.
“Boo,” someone whispered in your ear, making you drop your phone on your face.
“Ouch!” you yelped while sitting up, “Natasha! I told you to stop doing that!” you said angrily while rubbing your nose.
It wasn't the first time that the spy did that, and clearly not the last. Thanks to her stealthy skills, she occasionally approached you from behind and gave you a little scare. The number of dishes you've dropped because of that is literally impossible to count.
“Good morning to you too,” she said with a big smile. “I want you to meet someone,” she added.
“And who would that be?” You asked uninterested.
“My little sister.”
“Pardon me? You have a sister?” You asked surprised, almost dropping your drink.
Intrigued, you looked around the room and did in fact see a person you’d never met before standing by the kitchen counter. She was a short girl with long blonde hair tied into a pony tail. She was wearing a pair of combat boots, some pants, and…
“Woah!” you gasped, confusing both women. You quickly jumped over the back of the couch and approached the mysterious girl, “your vest is really cool!” you exclaimed while pointing at it.
Yelena’s surprised expression quickly turned into a big grin, “I know right?!” she said excitedly. “See Talia? ‘told you,” she said to Nat in an ‘I told you so’ tone while raising her eyebrows at her.
“I’ve never seen so many pockets on a vest before,” you said amazed, playing with them.
“I made my own modifications,” she shrugged nonchalantly clearly trying to impress you, making Nat chuckle loudly. “You can put so much stuff in there, you wouldn’t even know,” she said while showing you all the different pockets.
“My name’s Y/n by the way, nice to meet you.” You introduced yourself, extending your hand for her to shake.
She shook your hand, “my name’s Yelena.” She continued, “there’s a Mexican restaurant a few blocks from here, wanna go?”
“Of course!” you said excitedly. You quickly gathered your things and started to walk with her towards the door.
“Excuse you?” Exclaimed Nat, tapping both of your shoulders, “I’m still here.”
“Yes, and that’s where you’ll stay,” replied Yelena, “I only hang out with people who have a fine taste in fashion, sorry sestra.” She explained, making you chuckle.
“Exactly.” You backed her up, “bye bye Nat.” The both of you waved your hands at her with silly smiles on your faces.
With that said, you and your new friend headed off to devour some delicious tacos, while Nat rolled her eyes at the both of you, “idiots,” she muttered with half a smile.
Hey so I'm new to the whole 'requesting' thing. Anyways I have an option Bucky has a secret girlfriend. This'll take place between post-Winter soldier and post- civil war. Team cap has to go somewhere and Bucky wants to say goodbye to someone. Once they reach the readers and her and buck do some sort of act of love (hug, somethin special) and the team realizes that it's his girlfriend Thanks doll🖖✌️
Secret Girlfriend
A/N: This was a super cute idea
Warnings: soft!bucky
Words: 1k
“Who’s he talking to? I thought we were his only friends?” Sam questioned, looking back as Bucky picked up his phone and left the room. Steve’s eyes following Bucky’s movements as he slowly paced the hallway.
“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged, returning to packing his suitcase.
“I’m leaving for three weeks- tonight actually,” Bucky’s smile gets smaller as he informs you that you’d be without him for an extended amount of time. You stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond. You knew that stuff like this would happen when dating an avenger. Having to leave at a moment’s notice to save the world, there was a part of you that wished Bucky would have stayed. Coming up with an excuse to not go, but that would only bring an unnecessary concern to Steve.
“We got the orders a couple of hours ago; I wish I didn’t have to go.” Bucky huffs.
“Is there a way that I can see you before? Just to say goodbye?” You managed to hold back the tears. This would be the first time Bucky will be gone this long.
The two of you met just after he returned from Wakanda. You were working at the coffee shop he would stop by every morning. While making friendly conversation with you, he began to know you better, leading Bucky to feel comfortable enough to ask you to dinner. Of course, you said yes.
That was almost five months ago. Bucky having his own place, allowed him to be able to keep this part of his life private. It’s not that he didn’t want them to know, but it was something that he wanted to be sure of before sharing. You were also the only thing at the moment that wasn’t filled with history or was work-related. You had been his get-away from the fast-paced life of avenging.
“Yes, I’ll come by before I leave. Will you be home in an hour?” He asks, Bucky knew he needed to see you beforehand and a phone call wasn’t going to cut it.
“I’ll be at work, but you can still stop by. I’ll take my fifteen when you come in.” You respond eagerly. This gave Bucky a good excuse to stop before leaving for Germany.
“Perfect. I’ll see you soon, Darling.” His smile reappearing. “I’ll see you soon, just text me before you get here, bye Buck.” You hang up and start to get ready for your shift.
When he returns to the room to finish his packing, he was greeted by Sam and Steve with curious expressions on their faces.
“Who was that?” Steve gestured to his phone. Bucky just shrugs, “Old friend,” Sam chuckles to himself,
“Must be a really good friend if they made you actually smile instead of bruting in the corner,”
.
The van was all packed and everyone was inside. Sam and Steve taking the front seat, Nat and Bucky in the second row, leaving Clint and Wanda in the back row.
“Can we stop for coffee?” He as innocently as Steve drives out of the compound.
“Yeah, I think there is a Starbucks-“
“No, there is a coffee shop just off exist thirteen, like a block from my apartment.” He states, Sam looks back at him, raising his eyebrow with growing suspicion.
“Yeah, I guess that’s okay,” Steve replies. The car ride there was filled with small chatter between them. Bucky pulled his phone out to text you, letting you know he was almost there.
“Who’s ‘darling’?” Nat chuckles, glancing over at him.
“Nobody.” Steve and Sam look at each other, Sam starting to connect the dots. He doesn’t say anything but stays quiet trying to keep from teasing the shit out of him.
When they pulled up the coffee shop, Bucky eagerly gets out. Leaving the rest of the team watch him as he went inside, but not getting in line.
“What is he doing?”
“I think Bucky has a special friend.” Sam teases, leaving the rest of the car to start theorizing.
You put your apron on the rack as you get the text that Bucky was here. You see the car full of avengers pull up. Quickly fixing any smudges of makeup and fly-away hairs, you walked away from the counter. His mouth grows into a huge smile as he catches glimpses of you from outside. He takes your hands, bringing them to his lips, kissing them gently.
“Hi, darling.” His voice had softened since seeing you, losing the low grumble he usually has with the team. You truly bring out the inner softy in him.
“Hi,” You match his softness. He pulls you into a tight hug, remembering why he was even visiting you at work.
“How long before I get to hug you again?” You mumble against his chest. He kisses the top of my head pulling away, but not letting go of your waist.
“Three weeks, but I’m hoping for two.” Your face sinks into a pout, he moves his hands to cup your face. Slightly squishing it, causing him to giggle.
“You know your friends are looking,” You see past him, their eyes are glued to the two of you.
“He does have a girlfriend!” Nat shouts, they all watch as Bucky embraces you and kisses your hands.
“That sneaky bastard.” Clint laughs. Sam and Steve nod in approval as Bucky stares back at them.
Looking back at you, Bucky states,
“It’s okay, I knew we couldn’t hide it for much longer. They were getting suspicious about who was making me smile.” You grin at the thought of being able to get past, what left like vibranium, walls that the super solider had built up.
“I’m going to miss you so much; I’ll call as much as I can.” He looks at you with the most tender eyes. You nod,
“I’ll be counting on it.” You say in a warning tone. Instead of planting a kiss on your head, Bucky places the kiss on your lips. You kiss him back, soaking it all up before he pulls away.
“I’ll see you when you get home!” He smiles and nods, preparing for all the questions he was about to receive when he reentered the car.
Based off: Which of your OTP...waits for the other to fall asleep
~~~~~
Bucky silently chuckled to himself, noticing you yawn for the tenth time that night. “Doll, just go to sleep already,” he said, causing you to stir in his arms. With eyes fighting to stay open, you pouted, “not until you do.”
Bucky always was the one to wait for you to fall asleep. You didn’t even notice it at first, but after many nights you eventually picked up on the fact. Which lead up to this moment, with you struggling to stay awake while trying to beat him at his own game. It was clearly not going as you planned.
Eyes fluttering against your will, you fought to keep them open, “no, not yet…” you mumbled and only two minutes later were you out like a light.
Bucky pulled the blanket up higher on you, making sure you were fully comfortable. Only then, after seeing your peaceful expression, did he allow his eyes to close, heart and mind both thinking of you, while he relaxed into his own sleep.
