Fandom: Palia
Rated: E for exceptionally explicitly
WC: 1020
Nai'o x GN!reader
Summary:
Gender neutral reader is tired and taking a short break in the barn however that break is more of a demanding release for Nai'o. TW: breeding, gn ref, free use implied, sloppy barn sex, quickies
Read on AO3
The barn was dark as you were laid on the plush hay inside the stall. You were trying to hide away for a bit from your current tasks and errands. Everyone needed something and you were too tired to make the journey home over the hill. The musty air filled your lungs and the smell of sweat, old grass, and faint animal filled your nostrils. You were panting alongside Nai’o as he fumbled to thrust inside you.
“Always good to see you.” His large frame hunched over your back. The friction of your clothes still intact rubbed against your skin. Everything was in place except for the areas you both needed access too, it felt so salacious. “We don’t get many guests to the farm.”
“Y-yes good to see you t-to ah um Nai’o.” You struggle to say as his heavy endowed member pushes itself into you till the hilt touched your bottom like an impatient kiss. Your mouth opened from the stretch, a warm welcome to this spontaneous agreement. “Great in fact.”
Nai’o laughs pulling you closer to him as he settles inside you. His large forearms wrapping around your abdomen as a soft hum escapes his throat. His earthy aroma is addictive with the warmth of his touch. “Did you know,”
His hips begin to move in slow circular patterns, teasing your hole with surprising experience. Your thighs start to tremble from holding his weight and the feeling of him massaging your walls. You were trying to stay focused on what he said but it was hard to keep your thoughts orderly with the pressure inside you rising like the high noon tides.
“Did you know,” He whispers in your ear. Nai’o sets a pace while his hands seek refuge under your shirt, fondling your plush breasts and tugging on your hard nipples. “There are over 72 unique color and pattern combinations for peki breeds?”
“W-what?” You gasp with confusion as he takes a deep plunge inside you. He is overwhelming your senses with confusing words, greedy fingers, and his fat cock filling you to the brim. Its almost unbearable to tolerate but you can’t help but feel so good underneath it all.
“I was reading all about it in ‘Peki Breeder's Monthly.’” He let out a breathy chuckle like it was obvious. His hands cup your breasts and he angles you higher, he is trying to pierce through your abdomen at this point. “Made me wonder, y’know, about me and you,”
His thrusting is more frantic and you can barely put his words together. The overload of sensations is driving you to the brink. Your mind is empty, full of only his cock and his words. Breeding? Him and you? You weren’t entirely sure how he could talk so calmly while you were being pierced so furiously on his cock. You agreed to this rendezvous to help while Kenyatta was busy but it was tearing you apart in the most euphoric way.
Your skin flushed, your chest heavy from panting, and you couldn’t stop all the increasingly loud whimpers and moans his pulling and pushing caused. You were putty in his hands as soon as he entered, no foreplay necessary, just a rough and heavy fuck and inside the family barn of all places. The anxiety of being caught also aided to your arousal, you were dripping for him without much effort, just the way you both preferred.
“I wonder about what breeding would look like between a Majiri and Human. What do you think?” Sweat is pouring down you and your hair sticking to your skin as he uses you without mercy. His words were coated in honey but had a deeply unsettling idea to them and you couldn’t escape the deathly grip his farm made hands and arms had on you.
“Nai’o? Wh-what?” He had pushed you against the wall of the empty stall you both occupied in the barn. The weight of him transcended to your insides. You felt his cock throb ready to let go and that was when everything he had been rambling on about crashed into you. Your insides spasmed, milking him for every drop his bully cock would offer. Your moans echoed in his ear, embarrassingly louder than you expected after all the things he whispered in your ear. You couldn’t help it. You knew you always craved his rough handling.
The himbo golden retriever farm boy was a great act for the villagers and you knew he acted like a good pup with Kenyatta. But for you? You were always his free use stress ball and now he had added breeding discussions into the mix and you couldn’t believe how much that made your hole twitch around him. You let out a heavy breath as your panting slowed down, your arms leaning on the wall in front of you but enjoying how tightly Nai’o squeezed you from behind.
“Things just aren’t the same around here without you. I can’t imagine not being able to take you out back like this anymore.” He bit your ear lobe and sucked on it. His callused hands wandered around pinching, groping, and grabbing whatever he wanted to feel. It left a trail of fire on your skin. “You’re such a treat y’know?”
You barely nod still reeling from your crashing orgasming. Your sensitive insides still pulsated as he remained hilted inside. The mixed wetness of his cum and your arousal tickled you as it leaked slowly from your insides past the cock, he plugged you with.
“Yes, yes. Thank you.” Your breathy gratitude made him hum with approval. His teeth nipping at your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, anywhere they could reach like he was hungry for more. He would just take more if he wanted, that was the deal you both arranged so long ago. You were there to be filled and sit pretty on his cock while he fidgeted with you on him. Unless you were both caught in this moment you weren’t going anywhere for a good while and you didn’t have the focus to make it any other way.
Summary: I had you once, but I lost you, so now I am eternally yours.
Warning: Clinically insane, lost you once, mentions of war and insulting the volturi.
Word count: 1109 words.
a/n: This took a while, but english is not my first language. I do hope you guys like it.
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Vladimir's POV.
Past actions come to present actions trice what is understandable. It is a little too late to stand here preaching? Horrifying. Every time my eyes find (y/n) everything plays slow like the day couldn't get any worse. Back then when we ruled the human world to our advances; we took our job seriously. We had clans come from far and wide to established alliances, people joining us or wanting to be part of us, and food came from all over the world. When being from the Romanian Coven meant something.
(y/n) had my head on her lap running her fingers through his short blonde hair. She hummed a song between her lips no words spoken from them. Vladimir lowered his eyelids letting the atmosphere of his mate succumbed him.
He would give up all of him to make this moment last forever.
Despite the Romanian Coven choice of looking past Vampires with powers. His treasure has one calming everyone in the room no matter what. Vladimir embraces his hands surrounding his mate locking her towards himself. The atmosphere took a drastic chance now that the doors to the throne room have been open by Coronel. He strolls in with a couple others from the Coven worry about some new coven making little to no change in how we lived.
“We can't let them get away with it!”, One Coven member hidden behind a cloak shines out.
“We can take Aro out”. Xutopia speaks coming past Coronel. Her brunette long hair falls in cascades as she adds soon after, “they will disperse after the deed is done". She pleads as a second in command to Stefan.
A new coven member explains his frustration against why we are brushing off the Volturi.
Stefan opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself closing his mouth. Xutopia raises an eyebrow at her brother not liking the fact she was ignored, “We are going to regret this”.
"Shut up", Vladimir mutters between gritted teeth annoyance bursts through his whole body. His eyes open, he removes his head from his mate’s lap.
“When have we lost?”. Vladimir crimson eyes fallen to each member in the room. His eyes glare intently to Coronel and then Xutopia, “We shouldn’t be so fucking confident”.
“Let me go ahead! Let me attack them when they aren’t expecting it!”.
His mate cuddles his side completely oblivious to what was spoken for her Vladimir is everything she has had. Vladimir eyes drift to her form resting (y/n)'s head on his chest. Everythìng fell in glorious praise with (y/n) stayed by his side.
"The Volturi are a scum!”. Xutopia shouts at the top of her lungs, many of our members screams after her confirming what she thought and a smile ran away from her face affirming pleased with a wide grin.
“They are just starting a war they won't win in the end. We are the Romanian Coven, aren't we coronel?". Vladimir drifted his attention to Coronel, who nodded before letting the words he held in his mind loose. Vladimir's calm but stern tone spreads his powerful energy, "I am not doubting our power, but The Volturi has convinced small covens! We should attack as soon as possible! We can't let them regroup. We could lose more if we let them grow". Coronel extended his hands as his voice filled the Romanian Castle Stronghold. He attracted crowds of Vampires and compelled humans to obey.
Back then we didn't mind. We didn't see the Volturi as a threat. Our worst mistake.
"Vladimir".
Vladimir's surroundings dissipate like a canvas getting washed over. His eyes drifted to his mate smiling at him as if he could cry. He would have, "Don't go, (y/n). Please". His last plead. He blinked the Romanian Castle meeting room was no more. It was replaced by white walls around him complemented by domino floors some type of hospital room. The stone walls were exchange with white walls and the stone floors were exchange with spotless floors. Each coven member disappear from sight taking form of tables, cabinets with other tolls and objects around the room.
Vladimir eyed the room, a sight escaping his lips trying to shake the memory away from his body. A hand-made contract with his cold ones. The contrast warmth to him, his eyes look up to (e/c) staring directly at him.
"Are you okay, Vlamir? You looked distant", (y/n) eyes soften in a welcoming manner with the nickname she gave him. He couldn't bring himself to tell her to stop; however, he did lose her centuries away, and he isn't starting on that note again.
No. He is not going to lose her ever again. No volturi. No coven will he let anyone take his human mate.
"Standing here looking at you takes all my breath away". Vladimir was quick to change the topic remembering how things used to be. How he lose her in the second retake battle with 100 new members. It is not something he can forgive himself that night he lost more than what he bargained for. We weren't prepared for a surprise attack.
"I will assume you are okay", (y/n) cheeks redden into next week. She pushes him playfully getting back to her job. It wouldn't be lying if he didn't say he missed her voice, her eyes going to him, her presence and if she is his other half his wishes granted, he is not going to let anything happen to her ever again even her scent every part of her is the original. He would cry with joy if he could.
He had constantly wished to have her return to him.
"I am good, (y/n)". Vladimir adds quickly so as not to worry her. Her eyes glance at him before her attention goes back to her job.
"I am glad", (y/n) whispers between her lips. A smile ran through Vladimir's lips knowing he did good. He will become her guard if he has to. Fuck the Volturi. His lips parted no words spoke staring at her. His eyes drifted to her like a magnet to a needle.
The room stood frozen looking at the machine that played in the background. (y/n)'s heart beats calmly her lips part. She moves back staring at Vladimir, "Did you say something?". She asks looking over at him. Vladimir runs his hands through his hair. He chuckles staring at her, "You are my mate, so now I am eternally yours”.
Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of torture, mentions of PTSD
Why did things always turn sour? It felt as though any time you had gotten close to anything that you wanted, something bad would happen. You believed that you were cursed with immense bad luck.
It started when you were seven years old. Your father was a soldier in the army, and he was coming home from war. Being a daddy’s girl, you were giddy with excitement when he arrived home. All was well until it wasn’t. He started drinking--a lot. And that turned into anger, which turned into abuse.
It continued when you were ten years old, and you were playing in the park with a few friends from your class. A strange man, who you later found was a HYDRA spy, abducted you and one of your other friends, and they tortured the both of you. Your friend, unfortunately, did not make it. You did (you’d always blame yourself for her dying).
It progressed as you reached twelve years old, still being held captive, but now with powers. You could teleport and manipulate energy fields, giving you the ability to make shields, teleport, and move objects. You hoped that getting powers would make the torture stop, but it only got worse.
It repeated when you were fifteen years old. The only thing on your mind was your loving mother, who protected you from what seemed like everything. You knew that she blamed herself for this as she did with everything else. You were rescued, only to find out that your father had murdered her last year and was now in prison, and you were forced into foster care.
It happened again when you were seventeen. You had gone through intensive therapy and had been to several mental hospitals over the last two years to try and deal with the trauma, and you were doing fine. That was until Tony Stark recruited you to join the Avengers. Things had started okay, but as you trained, you kept getting flashbacks and rather intrusive memories.
So, of course, it continued, at eighteen years old, you were scared when you realized that you fell for Peter Parker. Luck had never been on your side, and you supposed that you were cursed to live a short and miserable life, so you did your absolute best to detach from him. You worked through the memories that the two of you shared, changing them so that you had done something differently. Anything differently. Hopefully, it was something that made it so you didn’t catch feelings like it was the damn cold.
But that boy was always smarter than he appeared. Peter caught on to you being distant, but he didn’t quite understand why. He thought that it was his fault--after all, he was the one who asked you to dance.
This was the last prom. The last high school dance altogether, actually. After this, there would be no more dressing up with your friends and getting dinner and pictures. There would be no more awkward or cute promposals. For your friends, it was the end of their childhood. For you, your childhood had been taken when you were.
Peter Parker had it for you, and that was certain. He would never admit it, only because he was scared and you made him nervous, but he was head over heels in love with you. You had caught feelings, but you were trying your hardest to deny them. Feelings were weaknesses, and you were not weak.
Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran, a true school dance staple, starting playing loudly. You and your single friends were at the edge of the dance floor talking when Peter tapped on your shoulder.
“Do you, uh, do you want to dance with me?” He asked, stumbling very slightly. You smiled at him and nodded, taking his hand as he led you to the dance floor. You placed your arms around his neck, and his snaked around your waist and pulled you in closer. “You look really pretty, (Y/N),” He smiled.
“Black has always been my color,” You smirked.
“Just because your uniform is black doesn’t mean that it’s your color,” Peter laughed.
“I think that’s exactly what it means,” You responded. “You look nice, too,” You tell him.
You rested your head on his shoulder, swaying softly to the music. He smelled like cologne and like his house, and you thought of the way his arms fit so perfectly around you, and he enveloped you. You were lost in his embrace, in his presence, in his everything, because you had it for him, too.
Peter made you feel safe. When the nightmares came, he chased them away. When you had random bouts of paranoia and anxiety or you were triggered, he would calm you down and refocus you. When you would shake in fear as you stared at something as simple as a belt that was out of place, he would hold you and give you something to focus on--him. You focused on his heartbeat, and how it was always there, always steady, always gentle. You focused on the way his hair tickled your neck when he hugged you, and you focused on the way he would sometimes hum to you to get you back into reality. You loved when he made you feel safe. It was one of the reasons you loved him.
You loved him.
Shit.
Your eyes, which were closed previously, now snapped open and were alert. You couldn’t love him. You just couldn’t. Loving him would just make it hurt more when he inevitably left you in one way or another. Your breath caught in your throat, and you pulled away from him. He looked at you with confused puppy eyes, and you just had to get away from him.
Pivoting on your shoes, you practically ran out of the room, using your powers to teleport you back to the compound. Peter didn’t understand what he did to drive you away so quickly.
A month after, the team was planning on invading a HYDRA base in Canada. You, Peter, Bucky, Steve, Natasha, and Clint all went on this trip, which was very quickly turning south.
Intel had said that there should be twenty men on the inside, but that information had been drastically wrong. What started as twenty quickly turned into one hundred, and you were vastly outnumbered. Why had Tony chosen you to go on such a large mission?
No matter why you were here, you had to fight. It was that, or die, and death didn’t sound too pleasant right about now. You teleported behind a guy and kicked both of his knees, knocking him to the ground while you straddled him and grabbed at his gun. He held on tight, but you manipulated his arms so that you could butt him in the head with the end of his rifle. Then, you shot him in the head and moved on, fighting in whatever way necessary to keep you and your team alive.
At one point, they got out dozens of grenades. You were petrified, to say the least. Having nowhere to run or hide, you were left out in the open with nothing but your powers. Peter was in the same predicament. You teleported to him and threw up a shield right as a grenade landed near you guys.
You began to shake as you collapsed to your knees. You kept the shield up by some miracle, but now you felt the panic start to set in. Bullets were firing directly at you and Peter, and you had never used your shields against bullets or grenades, so who knew if this was going to work or hold up?
Peter noticed your panicking, so he got down on his knees right next to you. Placing a hand on your bloody cheek, he looked into your eyes. “Hey, (Y/N), look at me. It’s okay. We’re okay. You’re doing so good. Take some deep breaths. Give me your hand,” He said, taking one of your hands. He placed it over his heart, knowing that was one of your favorite grounding techniques. “Feel my heartbeat. I’m alive, you’re alive, and we’re okay. We just have to get through this.”
You nodded your head and did as he asked. His heart thumped wildly underneath your hand, but at least there was a beat there. And it wasn’t faint or weak. It was wild and lively and it meant that he was breathing right here next to you.
When the firing stopped, you held your defenses still as you moved you and Peter to where the rest of the team had met. “All clear,” Steve said. “We got all of them.” You dropped your shield, watching as the wall of blue quickly dropped around you. “Nat and Clint got the files, so let’s get back on the quinjet and get home.”
“Good work, kid,” Bucky said, clapping a hand over your shoulder. You nodded up at him, giving a tight smile as you walked ahead.
Peter walked right behind you the entire way to the quinjet, sat next to you quietly on the flight home, and trailed behind you when you walked back into the tower. “(Y/N), hold up,” He said.
You kept walking to your room. “Yeah, Peter?” You asked as you reached your door.
“Can we talk?”
“We’re talking right now,” You scoffed as you stepped into your comfort zone.
“This is the most we’ve talked in a month. What did I do?” He asked.
“You didn’t do anything, Peter.”
“It feels like I did. It seemed like we were having a good time at the dance and then you just left. What happened?”
You looked at him and how confused he was. His hair was messy, his face had dirt smeared on it, his suit looked like it had taken some slight damage, and yet he was still as handsome as he ever was. You avoided his gaze as you stepped into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping at your face to get the blood off. “Nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing.”
“I said it was nothing,” You repeated, your voice louder and more intense.
“It doesn’t feel like nothing!” Peter exclaimed.
You threw your washcloth down into the sink. “I really fucking love you, okay?” You yelled. He went silent after that, the only noises being the running faucet and his and your labored breathing. “I realized when we were dancing that I love you, and that scares the shit out of me.”
“Why would it scare you?” He asked, his voice much more gentle.
“All my life, I have had horrible luck. Being beaten, getting kidnapped, getting these powers--nothing ever goes right in my life. Why would we be any different?”
“Because I love you, too,” Peter said. “And I get that you’re scared. But can you please just give us a chance? I’m not going to hurt you, (Y/N), that is my last intention when it comes to you.”
“Isn’t that what everybody says?” You scoffed.
“Do you trust anybody like you trust me?” He asked. The question took you by surprise. Peter was being incredibly forward today, and you didn’t know if it was the leftover adrenaline or if he was just really persistent about this, but you weren’t used to it. “Have you ever trusted anybody like you trust me?”
“Of course not, Peter,” You sighed. You ran a hand through your hair. “Listen, it isn’t about trust. You, you’re just so perfect and I’m the opposite. Good things run away from me, luck laughs in my face then punches me in the gut, happiness is less likely than me breathing underwater. It isn’t you that I’m worried about. I’m going to fuck it up for the both of us, and then we lose each other in more ways than one.”
You hadn’t noticed how Peter slowly walked to you while you were having your mini-rant, but now he was a foot away from you and there was something about the look in his eyes that made your knees go weak. He places his hands on your arms, making you really look up at him as he pulled you in closer. “(Y/N), do you trust me?” He asked. Quietly. Gently. It felt as though his voice could ease even the most painful parts of you.
Did you trust him? You were certain of it. You went to him about everything--things people said to you, poor work experiences, your only high school relationship that, unbeknownst to you, Peter hated with his entire being (your ex was always so manipulative and controlling), secrets, and even stories about your past. You hadn’t told anybody about what HYDRA did to you. Not your adoptive parents. Not your friends. Not Tony. Only Peter--he was always the only one.
You nodded your head as you peered at him through bare lashes. “Yes, I do,” you whispered.
“Then please know that it’s the complete truth when I tell you that there is nothing you could do to fuck up our relationship. We’re both insecure, and that’s okay. We’ll get through it. Nothing could keep me away from you.”
“Peter?” You asked softly.
“Hm?”
“Please kiss me,” You asked. He smiled as he dipped his head down to meet yours, a small sigh leaving both of your mouths when it finally happened. His hands left your elbows and instead went around your waist, leaving your arms free to place around his neck. It was heated. It was the release of built-up tension over the last two years. Constantly pining and wanting and pushing and pulling led to this. His lips pushed almost bruisingly hard against yours, leaving you wanting more, more, more. You walked him backward until his knees hit the edge of your bed, making him fall with you on top of him. Your legs straddled him as you continued to make out, hands roaming, touching, mapping out every cut and scar and mark as if it were a map. His hands dug into your hips, and yours into his biceps. It was bold, it was daring; it was nothing like the Peter you knew.
You didn’t mind it one bit.
Peter pulled away reluctantly after a minute or so more of this. “Maybe we should wait for this,” Peter said, using his eyes gesture down to the way you were sitting on him. You smiled and rolled your hips, watching as his eyes closed and his breath hitched.
“Okay, I’ll stop,” You said. You stayed on top of him, but your arms wrapped back around his neck and you rested your head on your arms so that you were hugging him. He returned it, pressing light kisses to your shoulders as well. “And Peter, I think I’m okay to give us a chance, as long as you’re okay with it, too.”
His hair tickles you as he nods his head. “I was hoping you’d say that,” He said.
Luck was definitely not on your side. So much has gone wrong in your life, so many near-death experiences had happened, so much mental trauma was obtained. No, luck was not your friend. But just because you and Luck weren’t on good terms, doesn’t mean that Fate didn’t have something in mind for you after all.
Summary: Having visions about what’s going to happen on a mission is not easy to deal with. Good thing the visions only come when sleeping. There is an easy solution to this.
Pairing: implied Steve x Reader
Word Count: 5259
A/N: I got a little carried away with this one. Feedback is always appreciated :)
A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I closed my eyes focusing on the smell coming from the machine in front of me. The scent of freshly brewed coffee invaded my nostrils and already warmed me from the inside out. I reopened my eyes leaning my elbows on the counter top while still holding a tight grip on my over-dimensional coffee mug. This way my gaze was on the same level as the sacred device.
I watched the black drops of the holy beverage drip into the coffeepot, slowly filling it up. As I kept my focus on this event, the reason and the worries that were keeping me awake throughout even the ungodly hours of the night were being pushed to the furthest corner of my mind.
However, despite the light burning as bright as the sun itself and the reviving smell of coffee, my eyes started to flutter shut. The ticking of the grandfather clock Tony had insisted on keeping was on beat with the drops of the dark juice falling into the steady growing puddle on the bottom of the pot.
Tick. Drip. Tock. Drop. Tick. Drip. Tock. Drop.
All of a sudden I shot up, shocked about my own carelessness. In the process, I took a surprised step back from the counter paying no regard to the forgotten mug in my hands. I let go of the mug sending it flying to the floor. It broke into pieces as it hit the tiles of the kitchen, making a shattering sound that echoed through the whole compound.
I froze. My gaze went towards the archway at the opposite side of the kitchen marking the entrance. Holding my breath I listened.
There was only the sound of the grandfather clock from the living room and the steady hum of the coffee machine. It looked like everybody was still fast asleep. After a minute or so, I let my breath escape and focused back on the mess I had made.
Eyeing the shattered pieces of porcelain, a frown appeared between my eyebrows and a whine left my mouth. This had been my favorite cup.
I let out a heavy sigh. After this little show of self-pity, I went over to the cupboard underneath the sink and took out a brush and a dustpan and started sweeping the tragic remains of one of my closest friends. At least I had something to do; there was no danger of falling asleep while working.
When I finished cleaning up, I put the tools aside and reached for a new mug inside the cabinet. I was sure Bruce wouldn’t mind if I was taking his for now.
As I came to stand beside the coffee machine once again, the pot now half-way filled to the top and the delicious smell wafting through the kitchen, I noticed a movement from the corner of my eye.
Turning quickly in order to defend myself if it came to a fight, I barely picked up on the shattering sound as the second cup that night was sent flying by my hands.
“(Y/N)?”
Steve was standing in the archway, his voice gravelly. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand evidently getting the sleep out of them. He must have just woken up. Probably by the noise I had unintentionally been making.
Upon seeing my friend and colleague, another breath of relief passed my lips. I relaxed against the counter behind me as one hand went up to my chest right above the ferocious beating of my heart. If the breaking of my favorite mug had not woken me up before, the sudden appearance of the blond super soldier sure did the job.
While I looked at him with slightly less widened eyes, I could see the confusion in his gaze about what I was still doing up this late. I could also see the light twitch at the corner of his lips as a smile tried to form on his face, most likely in regard of my disheveled form.
I held his eyes for a moment – or did he hold mine? – until my brain caught up with what had happened. Hadn’t there been a noise of some sort, other than my heavy breathing?
Once more my eyes widened as realization hit me. I looked down. Sure enough in front of my feet was the green mug that had once belonged to Bruce Banner.
“Oh, man.”
I heard Steve chuckling at my whiny tone as I scooped down to pick up the broken pieces.
“Wait, (Y/N). Be careful with that. Here, let me help.”
His voice was filled with concern. I heard the sound of his bare feet against the tile floor as he walked over.
“No, it’s alright. I got this. You aren’t wearing any shoes… or socks for that matter.”
But Steve ignored my objections. Instead he came over with the brush and dustpan that were still laying on the counter top by the trash can. He put them down next to me and carefully reached over to take the shards I had already collected off of my hands.
I grabbed the tools once more – by now I was a real professional with a brush – and started sweeping – once again. Meanwhile, Steve threw away the bigger shards.
“Bruce is going to kill me,” I said underneath my breath. It was supposed to be inaudible, for my ears only, but Captain America had many talents, enhanced hearing being one of them.
“Why would Bruce kill you,” the amusement clear in his voice.
“Because I just destroyed his cup.” I sighed.
I swiped up the last of the mug and stood, throwing away the evidence that it had ever existed.
When I put the tools back into their place underneath the kitchen sink, I could feel Steve’s eyes on me. After I was done, I stood up straight and turned around to face my friend.
Steve was leaning with his back against the other end of the kitchen counter. He had his arms crossed in front of his broad chest that was covered by a blue T-shirt that seemed a couple of sizes too small. I swallowed hard. Then I let my eyes travel all the way up to his face.
It was framed by tousled blond hair, a stark contrast to his usually styled appearance. His blue eyes were as calm as the sea on a sunny day, but his stare was not less intense, however. There was a crease between his eyebrows. It was the one he always got when he was trying to figure something out. I had the sudden urge to reach out my hand and touche it to the crease on his forehead to smooth it out.
“Why were you using Bruce’s mug?”
His question pulled me out of my trance. I had to blink a few times to find my way back to the here and now. The crease between his eyebrows grew more prominent as he awaited my answer.
I opened my mouth, but closed it after a few seconds as I realized I hadn’t caught the meaning of the words.
“Hm?”
The sound was a little too high pitched for my liking and it made me cringe. I watched as the lopsided grin I liked so much appeared on his lips. However, this time as he started to speak, I forced myself to not be distracted and listen.
“I asked, why you were using Bruce’s mug.”
I shrugged once trying to play it cool, hoping he would let it go. Unfortunately, he raised an eyebrow questioningly, clearly not content with my wordless reply.
I lowered my gaze to stare at my feet clad in sparkling turquoise fuzzy socks.
“I broke mine earlier,” I mumbled in hopes Steve wouldn’t have heard.
But again, Captain America had super-hearing… Ergo, so did Steve.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise before knitting together in consideration. I could feel his scrutinizing look on me and I couldn’t refrain from squirming slightly. At one point I couldn’t suppress the urge to look up any longer.
His eyes were trained on my face. I could swear I saw the up and downs of waves reflecting in them. I swallowed, my mouth dry.
“Why did you break your mug?” His voice was calm and quiet.
Without taking my eyes off of his, I shrugged again. It was the only reply I was willing to give.
Steve’s expression changed and I could make out even more concern, if possible, shadowing his usually sunny features. Looking into those empathetic eyes, I wanted nothing more than to spill the truth. But would me feeling alleviated be worth burdening Steve with even more worries? As the leader of this team, I decided he had enough to worry about.
When it became evident I wouldn’t start to speak anytime soon, Steve slowly came towards me, stopping only when he was less than a foot away. Upon his close proximity, my heartbeat picked up its rhythm as if trying to escape my chest. I would have prayed he wouldn’t hear it, hadn’t I been distracted by his scent – a mixture of soap and leather – invading my nostrils.
His smell in addition to the fact that my eyes were now focused on his broad chest made me feel dazed. All my thoughts had been turned into thin air.
Out of nowhere I felt a large, calloused hand cupping my chin with so much gentleness that it seemed like a harsh contrast to the roughness one might expect from a soldier with super strength. There was a soft pressure making me look up just to be met with the bluest eyes I had ever seen speckled with tiny green spots.
The universe they held enveloped me whole. I was reminded of a day at the beach filled with sunshine, as I splashed around in the sea with my younger brother. A shiver ran down my spine and a calmness I had experienced the last time on that very day took hold of me.
It only lasted a second. Paradoxically, that calmness was what made me feel on edge. All my muscles were tense.
“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
Steve’s voice was almost inaudible and my eyes flicked down to his lips. I was still aware of his intense gaze on me. I bit my bottom lip not only to keep me from talking, but to keep it from quivering.
The way Steve was interacting with me, his calm and gentle manner somehow sent my emotions into turmoil. Tears were threatening to spill down my cheeks, a sob was stuck in my throat making it impossible for me to breathe properly. It cost me all my strength to keep myself hidden from the member of my team so close to me.
It was silent for an eternity. The only sounds were my accelerated heartbeat and the soothing humming of the coffee machine. Even Steve was holding his breath not wanting to miss any of my words should I decide to open up to him.
Heartbeats later, Steve let out his breath in way of a sigh. He let go of my chin. However, he didn’t step away. A breeze of cold air made me shiver, nonetheless.
“I think coffee doesn’t help with sleeping problems,” Steve joked attempting to lighten the mood.
I inhaled a shaky breath, releasing the lump that had been stuck in my throat. A tear slipped past my guard and I hurried to wipe it away, hoping Steve hadn’t seen.
“That’s-” I cleared my throat. “That’s kinda the point.”
My eyes widened. I was surprised my voice worked. Actually, I was surprised I said anything at all. I surely didn’t mean to.
I risked to sneak a peak at Steve to gouge his reaction. His eyes once again on me, a slight smile appeared on his lips. It didn’t quite reach his eyes and I knew he was just trying to be kind by not pushing me further to explain.
“Right then.”
The blond super soldier walked over to the cabinet and took out two mugs. He filled them with coffee before setting them on the kitchen island. He sat down on one of the stools and took a sip.
I watched closely, trying to see what he was about to do next. But he just kept sitting at the counter contently nursing his drink.
After a little while I tentatively walked over sitting myself down on the stool next to his. I stared at the cup in front of me.
It was the one I had made Steve the first Christmas after having joined the Avengers. He had been the one to welcome me and shown me around. We had hit it off instantly and spent quite some time talking to each other about everything and nothing. It was easy talking to Steve. During one of our conversations he had told me about his favorite piece of art and I had tried to recreate it, painting it on a mug. I had been insecure about my gift when the day actually arrived, but Steve loved it and gladly replaced the mug he had used before – the one with the star on a blue background, a very considerate gift from Tony – with this new one.
Surprised I looked over at him, checking which cup he was using. My suspicions were confirmed as I recognized it. He was drinking out of his hated mug – Tony’s gift – that now belonged to Bucky.
I couldn’t help but stare as my brain reeled trying to figure out what this might mean.
“Is something wrong? God, do I have something on my face,” Steve inquired, putting down his cup and wiping at his mouth.
Shaking my head I quickly averted my eyes and took my own cup in my hands to hide my burning face. I guided the mug toward my lips, the smell of freshly brewed coffee making me close my eyes in satisfaction. The smell always seemed to calm my nerves.
However, before I could take a sip I moved the mug away from my face just to place it back on the counter. I took a deep breath all the while silently cursing myself for what I was about to do. Then I released it in one forceful exhale.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Steve putting down his own cup. His focus was only on me now.
“I’m scared.” The words came out in a whisper. I didn’t dare speak any louder. The words were too heavy.
I counted ten ticks of the grandfather clock before Steve matched my voice.
“Scared of what?”
“Of sleeping.”
Ten more ticks.
“It’s because of your visions.”
It wasn’t a question but I nodded my confirmation, nevertheless.
“They are stronger before a mission,” I started to explain. “It always feels like I’m really there in that moment... But that’s not the worst.”
This time, after ten ticks, Steve stayed silent, letting me decided when to keep going in my own time. It was as if he could sense when I needed someone to push me and when I would get to it on my own.
I swallowed once, gathering the courage to continue.
“I’m scared that some day it won’t just be the destruction of buildings I see. That it won’t be just injuries, which is always bad enough… I’m scared to see-” A sob broke me off. The lump from earlier was back in my throat.
Steve moved at the noise, turning on his stool to fully face me. An expression of pain was set in his face as he was hurting while seeing me like this. He reached out his hand, lightly putting it on mine intending to show me he was there with me and I could share my pain; showing me that I didn’t have to go through it alone.
Without thinking about it, I grabbed his hand holding on to it as if it was the only thing tethering me to reality. The action came to me like a reflex. Steve returned the squeeze of my hand, giving me strength to continue.
“I’m scared I’ll see one of you die.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They cascaded freely from my eyes.
Two seconds after the words finally freed themselves from my sealed lips, two strong arms circled around my form, enveloping me in a tight, warm hug.
My arms went around Steve of their own accord; my fingers clawing at his shirt. Steve held me close against his chest as my body was shaking from sobs that forced their way out. Tears were streaming down my face, snot running out of my nose. I knew the sight wasn’t pretty like in the movies, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t. All the emotions inside of me wouldn’t stay captive any longer. They demanded to be released.
I didn’t know for how long I had been crying when the dam eventually sealed. The only thing I knew was: Steve had been holding onto me the entire time; he was still there.
The two of us stayed like this, I safe in his arms, for a moment longer while I tried to catch my breath and compose myself at least a little.
As I moved away, Steve not letting me go farther than half an arms length so he could still have me close, I wiped off the wet paths that the tears had left on my face.
When my sight wasn’t blurry anymore, I noticed the drenched patch of Steve’s shirt clinging to his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s okay,” Steve interrupted my apology, wiping it away as if it was an unimportant speck of dust.
One of his hands let go of my waist as he reached up to wipe at the last remaining tear stains on my face with his thumb. In that moment I was thankful that my face was already red, swollen and blotchy.
His thumb lingered on my cheek before he cupped it with his large hand. The gesture was so sweet and comforting, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into the touch.
“I understand that you would rather stay awake than seeing those kinds of scenes play out before your eyes.”
I recoiled at his words as they reminded me of why I was here now, in Steve arms. But Steve had a firm grip on my waist. He wouldn’t let me run away. Not again. Not ever. Especially not like this.
“I get it.” Steve held my gaze with his so I wouldn’t avert my eyes. He needed me to hear this. He needed me to understand.
“I can’t even imagine how it must feel like to experience visions like that. But,” he sighed, “you have to sleep. Especially before a mission. Without enough sleep you might loose your focus and that’s when... those things happen. I wish there would be a way around this, but there isn’t. But I can promise you that, as long as I am here, nothing is going to happen to anyone on this team. You hear me?”
I stared at him. Although his words were supposed to comfort me, which they mostly did, my heart still felt heavy.
“And what about you? Who is going to protect you when you are busy protecting the others?”
I was scared of this answer, this scenario, but I had to ask the question anyway. Uncertainty was even worse than knowing. If you didn’t know what was going to happen, you wouldn’t know how to stop it from happening.
Surprisingly, a smile pulled on one corner of Steve’s lips giving me the lopsided grin I loved so much.
“I’ve got you for that, don’t I?”
It wasn’t relief that flooded my body at his reply. It was something else warming and calming me just as much. A weight was not lifted off of my soul completely, but rather part of it was placed somewhere else. I didn’t have to carry this secret, this burden, around alone any longer.
However, Steve might have alleviated my fear of my visions becoming reality, but the fear of still having them wasn’t so easy to get rid off.
“I’m still scared of sleeping. The visions will still come.”
It was like starting telling Steve about my fears made my confessions now come out easier. I trusted him. I always had. But I knew something had shifted. Especially, as Steve uttered his next words.
“But you won’t have to face them alone.”
He said it as if it was a secret only the two of us would share.
He got up. I watched, curious to see what he was going to do.
After taking the milk out of the refrigerator and dividing it into two cups, he put them into the microwave. While the milk was warming up, Steve poured away the coffee, cleaned the two mugs we had been using as well as the coffee pot and got rid of any evidence that the two of us had been there during the night at all.
He worked in silence. I didn’t mind, it was comfortable. His presence had, for some reason I didn’t understand myself, a calming effect on me.
Just one second before the microwave chimed, Steve hit the stop button and took out the drinks. Before he left the kitchen, he poured some honey in each cup and announced it as the beverage his mother had sworn on for sleeping problems. I followed him out of the kitchen staying a bit behind to see where he was leading us.
Instead of turning into the living room or getting off the elevator on his floor, he was heading towards my room. In front of the closed door he turned to look at me expectantly. Confused about all his actions up until then, I just looked back with one eyebrow raised. Suddenly, Steve turned a deep red.
“I just thought your bedroom would be a good place to sit and talk and drink the milk. I mean better than the kitchen, you know,” he started stumbling over his words. “I mean, in case any one would wander into the kitchen because they are looking for some water or something. Here we would be away from any prying eyes.”
The crimson color was spreading from his neck all the way up into his face and to the roots of his hair. I was certain, if it had been possible, his hair would have turned red, too.
“I mean not that we would be doing anything… I mean besides talking and drinking warm milk. I don’t mean-”
He interrupted himself at that point. Defeated and clearly embarrassed he let his head hang down. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I had heard the word ‘shoot’ leave his mouth. My mouth was twitching as I tried to keep the amusement hidden from view. I was still confused about what exactly he had intended to explain with that spate of words.
A second later, it hit me. I felt so stupid and I had to close my eyes for a moment to get over my own stupidity. Then I rushed to open the door.
“Oh, sure, of course. I’m sorry. Really sorry. Here you go. Please, come in.”
My face was glowing from heat. Surely, Steve and I could have made a contest out of ‘who was the deeper red’. It would have been close.
“Are you sure?”
I could see that Steve had grown uncertain and hesitant by my reaction or rather lack thereof. I threw him an encouraging smile.
“Of course.”
Steve took a deep breath before entering and I wondered what that was about. I dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred. I had enough on my plate. The last thing I wanted to do was figuring out why Steve was like he was and did what he did. It was just a Steve-thing.
Once inside with the door closed, he put the cup down on my nightstand. Then he looked around the room aimlessly. The tension was palpable. There was an awkwardness between us I didn’t know where it came from. Spending time with Steve had always been easy-going. There was never a conversation forced between the two of us. Being with Steve was comfortable. This was the opposite.
I didn’t know how I could disperse the tension between us, so I did the first best thing that came to mind. I sat down on my bed settling into the cushions.
When I was settled, I patted on the empty space next to me signaling Steve to sit down and get comfortable himself.
After a moment of hesitation he eventually sat down. However, I could see his tense muscles, even through his layers of clothing. It seemed like he was prepared to fight someone at any minute.
I rolled my eyes. This whole weirdness of the situation was starting to annoy me.
“You know, it might be more comfortable to lean into the pillows behind you instead of sitting up straight. Nobody’s going to attack you in here, you know.”
I tried to make my words sound like a joke while simultaneously showing Steve that he didn’t have to be weirded out by whatever it was that was weirding him out.
He got the message. Tentatively he leaned further back, moving closer to me as to not awkwardly lay and sit at the same time. It took him a few moments, but after a while he began to relax more and more.
When I was satisfied with Steve’s mostly relaxed posture, I grabbed the two cups from my nightstand and handed one to Steve. After, I encircled my cup with my hands and took a sip. The sweet drink warmed my insides and I felt the tension leaving my body altogether.
We sat like that in silence, each one of us listening to their own thoughts. Never had I felt so at peace with someone else. Usually, sitting silently with someone was stressing me out. I would always feel like I had to fill the emptiness between us with meaningless words, but this was different. It was a whole new experience. It was comfortable and cozy.
After ten minutes, Steve broke the silence.
“If you could travel anywhere, where would you want to go?”
At first I was dumbfounded by the apparently random question coming out of nowhere. Then I understood what he was trying to do. I appreciated him attempting to distract me and not make me talk or think about my visions. So I played along.
“Oh, I would love to see…”
We fell into a nice conversation then, alternating between asking each other random questions. The easiness came back step by step and soon enough it seemed impossible that we might have had an awkward moment between us.
Within the conversation I saw a new side to Steve and learned something about the person he really was instead of the person everyone always tried to make him out to be. I also felt myself opening up to him, even though it might not have been evident in regard to the topics of our conversation.
When I had finished my milk with honey, I put the mug back down on my nightstand. Then, still chatting with Steve, I scooted closer to his warmth. On instinct, Steve reached an arm around my body, pulling me so close, my head was resting on his chest. Soon enough the steady heartbeat under my ear, his velvety voice encompassing me, and his even breaths lulled me to sleep.
When I awoke a couple of hours later, panting, sweating, Steve was there to calm and reassure me. He would listen to my vision and I would tell him. For the first time, I didn’t have to deal with it on my own. For the first time, someone was willing to listen to gruesome details that were haunting me even during daytime - especially during daytime. For the first time, I had help carrying this burden. So eventually, I fell back asleep. The last thing I felt was the touch of Steve’s fingers playing with my hair.
In the morning, Steve was still there holding me in his arms as he continued sleeping peacefully for a few more minutes. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his calm features. Never had I felt so well rested before a mission, although four hours of sleep was not ideal yet. Baby steps.
When Steve’s eyes started to flutter and his blue eyes shimmered through his long dark lashes, my breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t sure whether it was the view in front of me or the nervousness taking hold of me.
“Good morning.” His voice was a gravel whisper just like last night in the kitchen.
I had expected it to be awkward between us, but the way he said ‘good morning’ – without a hint of unease – erased that fear instantly.
“Morning,” I replied smiling. Steve returned that smile with his own, which made the sun rise over the ocean he held in his eyes.
We stayed like this, silently gazing at each other, cuddled up in the blankets until we were both fully awake. However, at one point we had to leave the comfort of my room to get ready for the mission. But not without coffee first.
As the two of us entered the kitchen everyone was already up and making themselves breakfast. Bruce was standing confused in front of the cabinet wondering as to why his mug was gone.
“I could have sworn it had been there yesterday. (Y/N), have you seen my coffee mug,” he asked as I walked in.
I felt my face growing hot and my eyes widen a little. I didn’t want to explain why I had been awake in the middle of the night destroying first my mug and then Bruce’s. But before I could find the courage to speak up, Steve jumped in.
“That’s my fault. I was making some warm milk because I couldn’t sleep, and when I reached for my cup in the cabinet, I accidentally bumped against yours and it fell and shattered. I’m really sorry, Bruce, I promise I’ll get you a new one.”
Bruce scowled a little but nodded in understanding. Steve washed the cup he had used the night before and handed it to his friend so he could get the coffee that would make him useful.
Afterwards, Steve gave me his favorite cup to keep using for my beloved black elixir leaving him mug-less. I wanted to protest, but Steve just shook his head and went to make himself some cereal. Gratefully, I walked over to pour myself some coffee.
Never before had a smile as bright as the one illuminating my features at that moment played on my face at the advent of a mission. If our team mates were surprised by this, they kept it to themselves.
As I sat down at the counter, I glanced at Steve watching him chat with Bucky. I felt like the smile on my face wouldn’t disappear any time soon.
Outside of the battlefield I might not have any idea what my future held. But if the previous night had been any clue, for once I was excited for what lay ahead.
You walked through the corridors of the studio, following the path that you had led Tom down only minutes before. He was here for a day of interviews and you never liked to leave him alone because he always complained.
"Alright, I'm back," You sigh, closing the door behind you, "Your first interview is at 12 with Buzzfeed so I'll take you down there in a bit,"
Stopping, you glance up to see Tom half dressed, tshirts scattered around the floor.
"I can't choose what to wear!" He pouts childishly, "I told you not to leave me alone."
You can't help but chuckle, dropping your clipboard on the coffee table to aid him in his catastrophe.
Selecting a top from the pile yet to be tried, you hold it up to his frame, eyes scanning for a bomber jacket to match nicely.
"So what can't I say?" Tom raises his brows, all of his attention directed on you.
"Nothing too much about the new movie, only that filming has begun and you're really excited blah blah," You explain, reciting from your notes, "You can talk about personal things, and address any rumours they mention in a relaxed manner... And don't mention me or us or anything like that,"
Tom and yourself had spent a lot of time together over the past couple of years. You were hired originally to be his personal assistant - mainly to aid in booking flights, getting him where he needed to be etc. But that soon changed. To personal chef, to personal shopper, to friend and now... To more than friends. Almost seven months ago, a surprisingly sober Tom had confessed that he liked you, and things had secretly taken flight from there. You swore to remain professional in any public situations but his jovial nature meant he could never resist for long enough. He would steal glances at you from across the room or mouth something to you about how beautiful you looked. In photos, he would wrap his arm around you a little too low and turn to whisper something inaudible to everyone else in your ear. It was a mess of stolen kisses, late slumbers and private love but it worked nonetheless. Because you'd realised that you'd really fallen for this guy.
"I don't see what the big deal would be if I mentioned something," Tom admits, shrugging the top over his shoulders.
"Tom," You sigh, "It's not as simple as you mentioning something and people knowing. It's your manager knowing and my boss. It's me losing my job for breaking the code of conduct and then lying about it for seven months,"
Tom can see the frantic nature in your eyes, the fear of you losing the one job you had truly been successful in and actually enjoyed.
"Hey," He stops you, hands loosely crossing over your waist, "I won't say a word,"
You smile at the admirable adoration in his eyes as they flick between each of your own, "Thank you,"
Your boyfriend tilts his head down to press a soft kiss to your lips, "But I can't promise anything about the film," He starts, jokingly, as he grabs his jacket and checks himself in the mirror, "I mean its kind of my signature move to expose these secrets about the film, Ithink I'd let everyone down if I didn't say anything,"
"Don't you dare!" You laugh, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the dressing room to take him to the first interview.
~~~
The beginning of the afternoon had been successful. Tom had taken part in some interesting interviews, including quick fire, one involving decorating cupcakes and one where he had to solely respond in one word.
And, finally, the last interview had arrived.
"So what's your goal for next year then Tom?" The interviewer asks, a relaxed and experienced demeanour echoing from their posture.
"I'm hoping to branch out into some new projects possibly," Tom nods with a light smile, "But who knows, man? I'm happy with the way things are!"
"Alright and I have one final question," The woman beams, "Your assistant, (y/n). You seem very friendly with her. Can you tell us a bit about that?"
He grins at the question, eyes flicking to yours in a short second, "She's perfect. I mean I don't think I'd know where I was without having her to keep me in check. And she's such a great person, she has such a beautiful heart and she's so ambitious and passionate and she's a great kisser and-" Tom instantly stops and covers his mouth with his hand, head instantly turning to you.
Tom reaches out a hand and repeats a quick apology, though he realises the severity of what he has said when he sees his manager leading you away from the set.
His eyes stay focused on yours for as long as possible and he could swear his heart stopped for that whole time.
"I'm sorry, I need to go," He shakes his head, quickly extending his hand to shake that of the interviewers before his legs are running after you quicker than he thought he was capable of.
~~~
"Please, if you'll just let me explain," You sigh shakily to your boss as he paces in front of you.
"This was addressed clearly to you when you got the job. You signed a contract to work with Thomas in a strictly professional manner. We expected you to be mature and not just act like some teenager at high school!" His anger echoes in his stance and his voice," What kind of reputation does this show for our company? A buy one get one free system? We should start advertising that our assistants seem to be assisting in more ways than one."
Tom bursts through the door at that point, "Don't speak to her like that!"
You look at him with frantic eyes, you didn't want this to affect him too.
"Come on man," He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, "We didn't expect this to happen and the reason we didn't want to tell you was because we were really happy. And we figured that telling you would jeopardise that,"
Tom comes to sit beside you on the couch, his hand resting cautiously on your thigh before your hand finds his.
"I refuse to let this change anything. You're the best assistant we've had and I don't want that to change," Your boss' anger fading at the sight in front of him.
He could see the worry extending into both of your faces and how the only thing keeping you from crying was your boyfriend's hand wrapped with your own.
"If you two break up-"
"You don't have anything to worry about," Tom cuts him off, squeezing your hand.
"Well, I'll leave you to sort this out. I'm going to apologise to the interviewer," He nods, glancing back at the two of you one more time before leaving.
Tom turns around with a look that can only be described as completely apologetic, "I am so so so so so sorry babe, I just got so excited that somebody asked a question about you and I didn't even think about it! We'll take a couple of days off, go somewhere quiet. I know all of my fans will go crazy about this so -"
You stop his panic by pressing a finger to his lips, "We're gonna be fine, babe," You chuckle, "The thing we were dreading the most was your manager finding out, but we're already through that part. So anything else following can't be that bad now can it?"
Your boyfriend's face curls into a smile that melted your heart every time. He grabs you by the waist and crashes his lips to yours in a kiss full of passion and desire, "And it means I can do that without worrying about keeping it a secret,"
Summary: When a routine mission goes south, Y/N is captured. As she sits in silence, she thinks about her family and the ones that mean the most to her.
Prompt: I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.
Characters: slight Bucky x reader. Mentions of Steve, Tony, Clint, Sam, and Natasha.
A/N: I had originally written this with an OC but I thought I’d give it a go as a reader insert. Any comments or criticism are welcome!
Warnings: A little kidnapping, a little angst, mostly a lot of fond memories.
Y/N was scared.
This was potentially the most terrified she had ever been in her life. She could hear her blood pumping through her body; she had to clench her hands to prevent them from trembling. Because Y/N was scared, but she refused to let them know she was scared.
Her head was thumping, a soft throbbing behind her temples reminded her of how quickly they had been able to overpower her. How quickly they had been able to creep up behind her, rendering her unconscious while she had been focusing on helping Natasha.
Her arms ached. She had fought them when she first regained consciousness. That had all been for naught. They had immediately strapped her to a chair, her arms, legs and torso restrained. They were not letting her get away.
She hoped they had left some sort of trail, something to alert the others of where they had taken her. Steve would have immediately began constructing a plan of rescue. Gathering the troops and brainstorming all potential places she could be, all potential groups who could have taken her. Steve would find her. That calmed her slightly. She knew she could put her faith in Captain America to do whatever he could to find her. He had an arsenal of superheroes and the bank account of Tony Stark behind him.
Tony.
God Tony was going to be so angry with her. How many times during training sessions did he tell her she needed to be more aware of her surroundings? ‘You need to be five steps ahead and aware of everything around you,’ he’d said to her every time he was able to catch her off guard. They had been joking around on the way to the destination. He’d been teasing her about her taste in music. The conversation had ended with him promising to get her tickets to see Harry Styles in a couple of months. He had promised that he would even go with her.
She fought the tears that burned that backs of her eyes when she realized that she and T would probably never get to that concert. That there were so many things that she would never get to do with her best friend again.
Sam had also joked about going. Y/N knew he would never actually go on his own accord. He was too ‘hood’ for that. She all but rolled her eyes at the memory of him scoffing at her as she brought up the concert. But she knew that if she asked enough and batted her lashes, Sam would agree to go.
They probably could have made a night of it. Clint could be relied on for a good time. Natasha was always looking for an excuse to dress up and dance the night away. Bruce liked to watch Tasha dance. Steve was always interested in experiencing new music of the twenty-first century. Bucky would do any and everything she asked of him.
Bucky.
Y/N held back a sob as her thoughts wandered to Bucky. He had been so afraid when she first met him. So afraid of his own mind and body, so unaware of himself. She had stood on the sidelines, watching as he slowly began to integrate himself into the Avengers and become more self-aware; watching as he and Steve learned to be brothers again, as he and Sam learned to tolerate each other, as Tony’s anger and hatred towards him slowly began to fade. The first time she had a conversation with him that lasted more than four syllables had been at four a.m., over a cup of tea.
He had looked surprised to see her up. Even more surprised probably to see her sitting at the breakfast bar, with a saucer in front of her, clutching the matching tea cup between her hands.
“Morning Bucky, sleep well?”
He had looked at her strangely, perhaps wondering if she was mocking him or simply making conversation. He had been tossing and turning for the last hour, finally accepting that sleep had escaped him. Y/N had taken this moment to scan her eyes over him. He looked like he had literally rolled himself out of bed and walked downstairs. His long brown hair was sticking up on one side, his sweatpants hung low on his hips and his white t-shirt was wrinkled. Unconsciously, Y/N licked her bottom lip; it was almost unfair how attractive he was, even in this state.
“Fine,” came his response. Y/N had simply shot him a smile, turning her eyes down and taking a small sip from her cup.
He stood in the kitchen for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do and where to go. Y/N sighed, quickly annoyed with him. “Would you like a cup of tea, Bucky? I find it helps me relax after a rough night.”
Another silent pause followed her question. Smiling softly, she rose from her seat. “Sit down,” she told him. She picked up the kettle, taking it to the sink and filling it with water. As she lay it on the stove, she asked, “do you take milk in your tea? Sugar?”
With a raised eyebrow, she turned to look at the soldier who was now moving to sit in the chair next to yours. “Yes, please,” he finally, said to her, his voice low, “to both.” Y/N simply nodded in response and busied herself with fixing a cup for both Bucky and herself.
“I had a nightmare,” she offered, keeping her back to the brunette man. “Same one I’ve been having all summer. It always seems so real when I wake up, that it always takes me a while to relax.”
The silence was her only response. But Y/N had not expected Bucky to speak, she had only wanted him to know that he wasn’t the only one of them whose sleep was plagued with regrets and memories they’d wish they could forget.
“My nana always said that the world always seems a little bit brighter over a cup of tea,” she said, laying a cup in front of Bucky. She shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s actually true, but it’s a nice sentiment.”
Bucky sat quietly, the forefinger of his flesh hand running around the rim of his cup. He cleared his throat and looked up at Y/N. “Thank you.”
Things had been different between them after that. He sought her out in the mornings for training. After their workout, he would make sure there was a cup of tea waiting on the breakfast bar for her. He asked her for recommendations on books and films from this century, and for weeks afterward, every time she saw him, he had a book in his hand; and always one she had told him to read.
She had a new list tacked next to her desk. She had thought of all her favourite books from the 50’s that she wanted him to read. Books that he would’ve just missed out on - The Catcher in the Rye, Fahrenheit 451, even Horton Hears a Who! She hoped that he would find it and work his way through it.
Her thoughts were pulled from Bucky Barnes when the creaking of the door handle sounded through the room. Y/N felt her heart in throat; she swallowed thickly, clenching her hands. She would not let them know she was afraid. She would not give them the satisfaction of hearing her beg or seeing her cry.
She steeled her face, narrowing her eyes and setting her jaw, as the door opened roughly, a hand coming around to rest on the door that glinted in the dim light.
As she looked up, she met a pair of clear blue eyes that were so familiar to her, and immediately let her know she was safe. Her resolve collapse as Bucky rushed towards her, pulling at her restraints. He caught her in his arms, holding her gently, afraid of clutching her too tightly and causing her any more harm.
“Y/N,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over her temple. “Y/N, I’m right here, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Her fingers of one hand tangled in his hair, while the other was wrapped around his shoulders. “I was so afraid,” she confessed, her voice hoarse. “I was so scared I would never see any of you again.”
Bucky pulled back, looking at Y/N, holding her face in his hands. With his flesh hand, he pushed her tangled black hair out of her eyes. “I’m right here, doll. I will always find you.”
“How did you find me?” Y/N looked behind the sergeant, still expecting one of her captors to run through the door.
He shook his head, gently tipping her head to look at him once more. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered slightly at this admission. Her hands caressed his cheek softly, feeling his strong cheekbone and the slight scratch from the scruff on his face. She watched as Bucky’s eyelids fluttered shut, and he leaned into her touch. Y/N hadn’t realized how close they had gotten. She felt his warm breath on her lips; if she leaned forward just the slightest bit…
“Oi! Mr. Freeze! Grab the invalid and let’s get out of here!” The stillness around the couple was broken as Tony entered the room. Moving quickly away from each other, Bucky turned to glare at the man for his horrible timing.
“Can you walk?” Bucky focused his attention back on the woman sitting in front of him.
Y/N gripped his forearm, attempting to pull herself up from the chair. The moment she tried to rest her weight on her legs, they buckled under her. Bucky’s arms were there to catch her. “I got you, doll.” He shifted his grip on her, tucking his flesh arm under her knees and lifting her into his arms. “Let’s get you home.”
(A/N) : Reader comes back home to visit her boyfriend, instead she is greeted with a broken heart.
Warnings: Angsty Af, language (I believe that is all)
Skipping across the pavement with warm excitement bubbling in your chest, you approach the entrance of a home you could never forget no matter how long you were away. The mahogany wood that guarded Derek’s loft seemingly glared at you and your footsteps came to a halt.
You had missed him so much that it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you had began reciting melancholic poetry in wake of his absence. Now that your standing at his door, your body tremors in excitement.
The college you attend is more than a few hours away, making it incredibly difficult for you to visit your hometown on the weekends. Not to mention, Derek and his loyalties to the pack don’t make for a very flexible schedule either. Well, seeing each other less must make the delight only that much better when you do finally get in touch. For instance, right now you are beyond happy to get to see him.
You raise a trembling hand to the door, knocking firmly on the surface three times. Stepping back, you prepare a wide grin on your face as you wait. Except you aren’t greeted by your gorgeous boyfriend, instead the chipping paint stands its ground. You repeat your actions once more, but the result is still the same.
A weight falls on your chest. Maybe you should have called ahead, however that would take the fun out of the surprise. He’s probably out right now taking care of business. You’d just have to come back later.
The lock clicks behind you, making your heart flutter. You turn around being faced with not one person but two. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you shuffle towards the pair.
An unfamiliar girl with platinum curls and porcelain skin stands by his side. Her small frame is practically drowning in the large black t-shirt that stops just above her kneecaps. The snarl on her flushed lips is less than appealing as she grabs at Derek’s forearm and whispers something in his ear. Only then do you noticed their intertwined fingers hanging between their bodies.
“What the fuck are you doing with my boyfriend?” You seethe. All the colour is drained from Derek’s face, while the girl’s oceanic eyes roll beside him. He looks down at their hands and immediately drops her spindly fingers.
“Oh, fuck,” he mumbles. His lips part as his eyes dart between you and the girl frantically.
“Derek, who is this?” You and the girl say in unison.
“(Y/N), This is Stacey. Stacey, (Y/N) – ”
“I’m his girlfriend,” she interupts, smacking her lips together, proceeding to make you want to smack her right across the face. Dark spots begin to cloud your vision as a new form of rage took over. A harsh laugh leaves your throat followed by a chorus of snort and cackles.
“Sorry to burst your implants, sweetheart, but Derek is my boyfriend,” you tell her, stomping towards her. Your nostrils flare as you try to square up to her, but Derek’s arm leans against the door frame, blocking you from her.
“(Y/N) – ”
“Right, Derek?” You ask, looking over at him briefly before your glare returns to Stacey. “I’m your girlfriend.”
His lack of response makes you look up at him. Derek’s gaze finds the floor. You lick your dry lips in anticipation. At this point you were desperate for an answer.
“Right?” You were always his and he was yours. Why would anything change now?
“(Y/N) … ,” He tries again. Those eyes that you had seen through so much, through laughter and tears, now held something that you had never seen before. Like broken glass, they were lustrous and sharp; dangerous. And here you stand, guiding the pieces straight through your gut.
“Are you –? Y-You’re cheating on me,” you gasp for air, choking on the words.
“I’m sorry. Stacey and I have, well, we’ve been –” He stammers, running a hand through his hair. “You were away and … this isn’t – I know this isn’t right.”
“You don’t think it was hell for me not being around!” You shout, making him flinch. “I hated not being able to kiss you, touch you, or even see you everyday. But unlike some of us, I could pull myself together. See, I’ve been waiting patiently and counting the days until I could see you again. There wasn’t a guy that caught my attention or interested me. Wanna know why? Because none of them were you!”
Your voice cracks slightly as your voice continues to crescendo.
“But you were over here fucking another girl, and now she’s apparently your girlfriend. Funny seeing how that title doesn’t mean anything anymore.” Your throat feels like it’s on fire as salty tears run down your face.
“It’s just that I was lonely and I met Stacey and she made everything so much … better – ”
The rest of his words fade into the background. There was nothing worse that he could possibly say. You bite your lip to prevent the sobs that were threatening to fall from your lips.
“I have one question, Derek; did you ever love me?” You knew that this would just hurt you even more. The simple notion that he had never loved you was about enough to bring you to your knees. You had spent just over 3 years with this man and had gone as far as considering spending the rest of your life with him. If that was 2 years of you being desperately in love with him and him *not having* any feelings for you, that would kill you.
“I truly did, (Y/N), I loved you so, so much. In the end I guess that wasn’t enough ”
There’s no sense in wasting anymore of your energy here. You swallow, carefully choosing your words. “Good luck, Derek. I wish you – I wish you the best.”
Derek nods his head, pursing his lips tightly. Before you even realise it, your running. The pain you feel sears into your soul. He was in love with someone else. What hurt you almost as much was the fact that he didn’t have the guts to tell you. There were plenty of phone calls, Skype sessions, hell, he knew your email, that he could’ve brought this up. Yet, he still waited until you found out for yourself.
You love him so much, enough that you’d be willing to put his happiness before your own. Wishing the one you love luck with someone else is one of the hardest things you can do. That moment when your heart breaks and all you can think about is running into his arms, you know your truly broken.
~
Wow, I don’t know where I pulled this out of, but that hurt my heart to write. Also, sorry for the format, I uploaded from mobile.
Yo, yo, yo, expect some birthday one shots coming up since my birthday was recently and I’m feeling inspired. And holy shoot! Thanks for getting me 5 away from 900 followers, that’s pretty amazing!
