♡ Hi! I'm Annie/34/Sometimes writer, sometimes reader/Small and sweet. Satan says they'd protect me/ My Masterlist/ Add yourself to my taglist/ My other media/ Reblog Masterlist/ Annie's library/ Backup blog ♡
Welcome to Annie’s Zone, you will find my writing, my reading recommendations, and stuff I share. I write in English and Spanish.
I hope you enjoy it.
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❣ About Annie
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𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 : Sometimes I write +18 stuff, if you are a minor, please don’t interact with my stuff.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
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Oᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:
Some hashtags you can find in my blog:
#Annie writes: my fics.
#Annie recommends: Someone else’s fics I read, share and recommend.
#Annie WIPs: information about my WIPs and sometimes writing tips I reblog.
#Annie rambles: thoughts, feelings I share.
#Reblog comments or #Comments reblog: I answer the comments on my fics.
♡ 𝓛𝓪 𝓓𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓸́𝓷 𝓭𝓮 𝓐𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓮 ♡
Te doy la bienvenida a la Dimensión de Annie, aquí encontrarás mi fanfics, mis recomendaciones de lectura y cosas que comparto. Escribo en español e inglés.
Espero que lo disfrutes.
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❣ Acerca de Annie.
❣ La masterlist de Annie.
❣ Lo que Annie lee.
❣ Lineamientos para que yo recomiende tus fics aquí.
❣ Reglas para hacer un pedido aquí.
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Si no quieres que te etiquete, pero aun así enterarte cuando publique un nuevo fic/capítulo, por favor sigue mi librería y activa las notificaciones.
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𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.
𝙰𝙳𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚂: A veces escribo temas +18, si eres menor de edad, por favor evita interactuar con mis publicaciones.
No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.
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Oᴛʀᴀ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴄɪᴏ́ɴ:
Algunos hashtags que encontrarás en mi blog:
#Annie escribe: mis fics.
#Annie recommends: fics de otras personas que leo, recomiendo y comparto.
#Annie WIPs: información de mis fics en progreso así como los tips de escritura que reblogueo.
#Annie rambles: pensamientos, sentimientos que escribo.
#Reblog comentarios o # Comentarios reblog: donde respondo los comentarios que recibo en mis fics.
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Additional tags: My entry for the @marvelrarepairs Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Card MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.
@saiyanprincessswanie
My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my English writing skills. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.
I don’t grant permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or in different languages (I personally translate my work) or for the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this. I created them exclusively for my fics; please respect my work and refrain from stealing it. Some people here create dividers that anyone can use; mine is not of this type, so please look for the dividers created by others. The only exceptions are those I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my work on a different platform that is not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
Add yourself to my taglist here.
My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.
If you like it, please vote, comment, and provide feedback to help me improve my skills. Consider reblogging as well.
The place was spacious and abandoned, with rusted metal structures that creaked faintly in the wind. He stopped in the center, his hands relaxed at his sides, though the tension in his posture told a different story. His gaze swept the area out of habit, but he wasn’t looking for external threats.
He knew exactly where the only one that mattered would come from.
It wasn’t long before Brock Rumlow’s footsteps could be heard.
Firm.
Unhurried.
With no intention of hiding.
He entered as he always did; his eyes met Bucky’s immediately.
“I thought you weren’t going to come,” Brock said finally.
Bucky didn’t look away.
“You knew I would.”
Brock nodded slightly, accepting the answer.
“Yes.”
Brock took a few steps closer, stopping at a safe distance.
“So,” he continued, “is this the end, or just another break?”
Bucky exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping for a second before fixing on him again.
“There are no more breaks.”
Brock held his gaze, searching for something.
A hint of doubt.
A crack.
Something that might suggest this could change.
He didn’t find it.
He let out a small, humorless snort.
“I had to try.”
Bucky didn’t react.
The wind swept between the structures, causing the metal to vibrate softly, like a distant echo.
Brock brought a hand to the back of his neck, scratching lightly—an uncharacteristic gesture for him, almost unconscious.
“It’s funny,” he said. “Of all the ways I thought this might end… this one wasn’t on the list.”
Bucky tilted his head ever so slightly.
“No fight?”
Brock smiled wryly.
“Exactly.”
He looked at him again, more directly.
“You and I… we always ended up breaking something.”
Bucky held his gaze. Brock took a few steps around the room, not to circle Bucky but to move to process. His boots echoed against the empty floor, marking an irregular rhythm.
“So you’re leaving,” he said finally.
Not as a question.
As a statement.
Bucky nodded slightly.
“Yes.”
Brock stopped.
“And that’s it?”
Bucky frowned slightly.
“What else do you expect?”
Brock stared at him.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “and that in itself was already strange. Something more than just… saying it and that’s it.”
Bucky looked down for a second, processing.
“There’s no easy way to do this,” he said.
Brock exhaled through his nose.
“There never was.”
That was true.
It had always been complicated.
Bucky took a step forward.
“I can’t keep doing the same thing,” he said. “Not like this.”
Brock didn’t back down.
“And what is ‘the same thing’?”
“This.”
Brock clenched his jaw slightly.
“You always knew what you were getting yourself into.”
Bucky nodded.
“Yeah. And that’s why I know I can’t do it anymore.”
“You’re pulling away,” he said.
Bucky didn’t deny it.
“Yeah.”
Brock let out a low, bitter laugh.
“How convenient.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly.
“That’s not it.”
Brock took a step closer now, closing the distance.
“Then tell me what it is.”
Bucky held his gaze without backing down.
“It’s choosing something different.”
Brock ran his tongue over his lower lip, thoughtfully.
“That sounds good in theory,” he said finally. “But it doesn’t always work in practice.”
Bucky didn’t argue with that.
“I know. But I’m going to try anyway.”
Brock watched him in silence.
“So this really is goodbye,” he said after a while.
Bucky took a deep breath.
“Yes.”
Brock nodded slowly.
As if he were bringing closure to something inside.
“All right. I’m not going to chase after you,” he said.
Bucky raised his eyebrows slightly, barely surprised.
Brock noticed.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he added. “It’s not because of you.”
N/A: Esta es mi entrada al Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Carta MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, versión en inglés.
Si te gustó, por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.
No doy permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o en otro idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) ni para el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), que hice exclusivamente para mis fics. Por favor, respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que crean separadores de texto para que cualquiera pueda usarlos; los míos no son públicos. Por favor, busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho, ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma distinta y no es de alguna de mis cuentas, por favor, avísame. Los reblogs y los comentarios están bien.
DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), excepto los personajes originales y la historia.
Anótate en mi taglist aquí.
Otros lugares donde publico: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.
El lugar era amplio, abandonado, con estructuras de metal oxidado que crujían apenas con el viento. Se detuvo en el centro, manos relajadas a los costados, aunque la tensión en su postura decía lo contrario. Su mirada recorrió el lugar por costumbre, pero no estaba buscando amenazas externas.
Sabía exactamente de dónde vendría la única que importaba.
Los pasos de Brock Rumlow no tardaron en escucharse.
Firmes.
Sin prisa.
Sin intención de ocultarse.
Entró como siempre lo hacía; sus ojos encontraron a Bucky de inmediato.
—Pensé que no ibas a venir —dijo Brock finalmente.
Bucky no apartó la mirada.
—Sabías que sí.
Brock inclinó apenas la cabeza, aceptando la respuesta.
—Sí.
Brock dio unos pasos más cerca, deteniéndose a una distancia prudente.
—Entonces —continuó—, ¿esto es el final o solo otra pausa?
Bucky exhaló despacio, su mirada bajando un segundo antes de volver a fijarse en él.
—No hay más pausas.
Brock lo sostuvo con la mirada, buscando algo.
Una duda.
Una grieta.
Algo que indicara que eso podía cambiar.
No lo encontró.
Soltó una pequeña risa por la nariz, sin humor.
—Tenía que intentarlo.
Bucky no reaccionó.
El viento pasó entre las estructuras, haciendo que el metal vibrara suavemente, como un eco distante.
Brock se llevó una mano a la nuca, rascando ligeramente, un gesto poco característico en él, casi inconsciente.
—Es curioso —dijo—. De todas las formas en las que pensé que esto podía terminar… esta no estaba en la lista.
Bucky ladeó apenas la cabeza.
—¿Sin pelea?
Brock sonrió de lado.
—Exacto.
Lo miró de nuevo, más directo.
—Tú y yo… siempre terminábamos rompiendo algo.
Bucky sostuvo su mirada. Brock caminó unos pasos alrededor, no para rodear a Bucky, sino para moverse, para procesar. Sus botas resonaban contra el suelo vacío, marcando un ritmo irregular.
—Entonces te vas —dijo finalmente.
No como pregunta.
Como hecho.
Bucky asintió apenas.
—Sí.
Brock se detuvo.
—¿Y eso es todo?
Bucky frunció ligeramente el ceño.
—¿Qué más esperas?
Brock lo miró fijamente.
—No lo sé —admitió—, y eso en sí mismo ya era extraño. Algo más que solo… decirlo y ya.
Bucky bajó la mirada un segundo, procesando.
—No hay forma fácil de hacerlo —dijo.
Brock soltó el aire por la nariz.
—Nunca la hubo.
Eso era verdad.
Siempre había sido complicado.
Bucky dio un paso al frente.
—No puedo seguir en lo mismo —dijo—. No así.
Brock no retrocedió.
—¿Y qué es “lo mismo”?
—Esto.
Brock apretó la mandíbula apenas.
—Siempre supiste en qué te estabas metiendo.
Bucky asintió.
—Sí. Y por eso sé que ya no puedo hacerlo.
—Te estás alejando —dijo.
Bucky no lo negó.
—Sí.
Brock soltó una risa baja, amarga.
—Qué conveniente.
Bucky entrecerró ligeramente los ojos.
—No es eso.
Brock dio un paso más cerca ahora, acortando la distancia.
—Entonces dime qué es.
Bucky sostuvo su mirada sin retroceder.
—Es elegir algo distinto.
Brock pasó la lengua por su labio inferior, pensativo.
—Eso suena bien en teoría —dijo finalmente—. Pero no siempre funciona en la práctica.
Bucky no discutió eso.
—Lo sé. Pero igual lo voy a intentar.
Brock lo observó en silencio.
—Entonces esto sí es un adiós —dijo después de un rato.
Bucky respiró hondo.
—Sí.
Brock asintió lentamente.
Como si estuviera cerrando algo por dentro.
—Bien. No voy a perseguirte —dijo.
Bucky levantó ligeramente las cejas, sorprendido apenas.
Pairing - Dark Lloyd Hansen / Dark Steve Rogers / Dark Ransom Drysdale / Dark Ari Levinson x Reader
Summary - Four brothers gather for their annual reward, gifted to them by their loving father. A high stakes game of chase, but who will win? One person certainly won't, you.
Warnings - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: Noncon sexual acts, Kidnapping, Drugs. This is a DARK fic! 18+ Only! My warnings are not extensive so enter at your own risk!
Series Masterlist
The dusk had settled, leaving the sky in a warm pink glow. Shadows cascaded over the pathways, leaving the whole area with a creepier feel than it had before.
Goosebumps laced your skin with the evening chill, your throat was dry and raw while your stomach protested loudly with hunger.
It had been silent for a while now, you heard nothing but the sound of your own breaths and your rapid heart beating amongst the gentle rustling of the leaves in the maze walls. You were still limping as the ache in your ass remained, though dulled now, yet still present and your thighs and crack were coated with dried cum.
You kept thinking, if you escaped you'd need to get the morning after pill. You weren't seeing anyone and weren't into casual sex and so you saw no need for contraception until you met someone. You could only pray it wouldn't stick, but then, would you even survive and be able to take those measures? The odds were looking increasingly unlikely the longer you wandered through the endless walls.
You began to miss the distant taunts and shouts of the four deranged men. At least when they yelled you could place them, the silence was unsettling, like the calm before the deadly storm arrived. You couldn't help but feel like the worst was yet to come.
A twig snapped in the distance that had you halting with a stuttered breath, a cough came next and a deep exhale and then...silence again. You had no idea where it had come from, or where they had gone.
You kept moving, kept pushing forwards into the unknown, wary of the setting sun and what the darkness would mean for you.
You rounded another corner, immediately screaming when you slammed into a hard chest and were immediately clamped to the body by large muscular arms.
"Well hi there Angel" Steve purred with a smile as he looked down at your dirty, quivering form, "I just knew I'd be the one to find you. I felt it when I saw you. Don't worry angel, I'm not gonna hurt you."
"You... you're not." You stuttered into his chest, unable to look into his eyes for fear of what you might see.
"No of course not," Steve sighed, "We're gonna be together now, you and me. I've been waiting for this for so long. You're gonna be perfect, we belong together."
"What?" You gasped in shock, "No...what.. I dont..."
"You don't what?" He asked, gripping you more firmly to his body and bringing his mouth to your ear, "I know you felt it too, at the entrance to the maze, you're different, you're meant to be mine, I know you are."
"You... you're insane..." You stuttered as the tears slipped down your cheeks, you had no idea how you could even cry anymore.
"You bitch!" Steve snapped, pushing you back harshly so you fell onto your ass on the floor.
"Listen here," He sneered, looming over you and grabbing your chin harshly between his fingers, "I said I won't hurt you, but that comes with a condition, you don't act like a stupid fucking ungrateful whore, got it?"
You whimpered as his finger tips dug harshly into your jaw, sure to leave bruises behind. He gripped even tighter, tugging your jaw upwards so you were forced to look into his eyes. swirling blue, yet dark, oh so dark and you began to panic, that maybe you'd been captured by the devil himself.
"Answer when I fucking talk to you." He yelled, spitting saliva onto your face.
"Yes..okay.. I'm sorry." You whimpered and you released a breath when he finally released you from his harsh grip.
"Get up." He ordered and you quickly scrambled to your feet, hanging your head.
Steve placed his arm around your waist, gripping your hip with his palm in such a way that you would not be able to slip from him easily.
"Let's get going." He grunted, "It's getting dark and I wanna get back before..."
"Not so fast." Ransom sneered as he slowly sauntered around the corner, eyes narrowing at Steve. His face was swollen with a large purple welt from your earlier attack.
You felt Steve's grip tighten on you possessively as he glared back at his brother.
"Fuck off Ransom. I'm takin' her." Steve growled.
"Now why would I do that?" Ransom smirked, casting a look over you with a tilt of his head, "This little bunny and I have some unfinished business."
He gestured to his swollen face and Steve pulled you impossibly closer, fingers digging into your side painfully.
"You leave her alone!" Steve yelled angrily, free fist curling until his knuckles were white.
"Oh you've gotta be shitting me," Ransom laughed loudly, "Again steve really?"
"Just fuck off! I don't wanna fight you but I will if I have too." Steve snarled.
"Let me guess," Ransom teased, "She's different, there's a connection."
"There is." Steve growled.
"Fucking hell Steve, you may be the most fucked up out of all of us." Ransom chuckled with his hands on his hips, "Every year it's always the same, you in love with this one too?"
"So what if I am?" Steve growled back and your heart plummeted. He was insane, actually medically certifiably insane. You'd risked everything on the chance of one brother after the next, only for them to get worse and worse.
Ransom let out a loud howling laugh clutching his stomach and wiping away a fake tear.
"You are actually nuts brother," He laughed, "Dad should have never let you off your meds, jesus christ."
"Get the fuck away from her, now." Steve growled more angrily than before and you began to shake with fear.
"You know Steve, you've always been such an asshole." Ransom began, pacing in a small circle around the two of you, "Always up dads asshole like a piece of ripped toilet paper, mister goodie two shoes, but you are really just a fucked up little psycho arent you?"
"I'm warning you one last time Ransom." Steve growled, following Ransom's movements with his eyes while he clutched you tightly, "Get the hell away from my wife."
"What!" You squeaked.
"Oh my god," Ransom laughed before cackling loudly again, "Fucking hell Steve, I've already fucked her once and even if you walk out of here with her, you get one week."
He came to a stop in front of Steve stepping into his space.
"One fucking week and then I'll take her from you." He snarled, "I'll break her piece by piece. By the time you get her back she'll be nothing but a rag doll, a fleshlight, a fucking corpse."
You gasped at the implication and were suddenly shoved back by Steve who threw his fist at Ransom's already aching cheek.
"Aahhh shit!" Ransom yelled, "You fuck..."
He didn't get to say anything else as Steve began to pummel punch after punch into Ransom's face. Ransom's head lolled and he dropped to the ground unconscious as Steve stood above him, chest rising and falling rapidly, teeth snarling like a rabid wolf.
You didn't think twice, you turned and ran, you'd take your chances with any of them, any but him.
"Angel, get fucking back here!" Steve yelled after you and you heard the heavy thump of his shoes rapidly hitting the floor.
You didn't get far before his arms were around your waist and you were hoisted into the air. He flipped you over with ease, settling you over his shoulder as you cried and he began navigating his way through the maze.
"You stupid bitch," He seethed, arm tightly gripping you, "You just had to fucking run, you had to fucking betray me and fuck my brother."
You sucked back a sob, arms hanging limply down his back.
"I'll fucking show you, I'll show you who you belong too." He continued as he walked, "You're mine, my wife, my angel, mine and you wont fucking forget it again."
He continued walking as you wept, muttering under his breath about his asshole brothers and about how his wife betrayed him, while you tried to fight the fear of being in his arms.
He rounded a corner into a large dead end, stopping with a hum.
"It'll do." He muttered before hoisting you off his shoulder and dropping you to the floor with a thump.
You shuffled back away from him into the corner on your ass as he quickly yanked down his jeans and boxers, releasing his large cock and stroking it with a groan.
"No...." You whispered.
"Yes." He grunted, reaching out and tugging you by the ankles so you lay flat on the ground before him.
He placed his body over yours, caging you in with his elbows at either side of your head. He brought his face down to yours and placed a bruising kiss on your lips that had you squirming to try and escape.
"Hey!" Steve suddenly yelled, pulling back just a fraction to look down at you with disdain.
"When I fucking kiss you I expect you to kiss me back." He sneered, "If you can spread your legs for my fucking brother then you can fucking kiss me back instead of acting like a pathetic victim, I know you want this."
"I don't." You whimpered.
He raised his hand and slapped you across the face with a brutal force, knocking your head sideways.
"Let's try that again angel." He scoffed.
His face came back down to yours, lips pressing down. You pursed your trembling lips and kissed him back while your stomach churned. At least the others hadn't made you participate. Steve groaned happily as he thrust his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around.
"I'm sorry I hurt you." He whispered against your lips, "You made me do it angel, you can't do that, you have to be good."
His heavy cock nudged against your mound and you squinted, he felt bigger than his brothers and you dreaded the pain that would surely come.
"Gonna claim you angel," Steve murmured against your lips, "You're mine, only mine."
He adjusted his hips so his cock slipped down between your thighs nudging at your clit.
"Is gonna be so good angel," He muttered before slipping his lips over your jaw and then to your neck, "Gonna feel so good, gonna fill you up."
You did your best to hold back the cries as he pushed his cock into your pussy with no remorse, his girth stretching you with a harsh sting.
"Oh fuck angel you're so wet," He groaned as he bottomed out, "I knew you felt it, I knew you wanted me."
You wanted to scream at him, tell him that you didn't want this, that what he was feeling was the remnants of the assaults by his own family. Instead you kept your mouth shut as he worked his own mouth over your shoulder, biting and sucking at your skin.
He started pumping his length in and out of you while panting and moaning into your skin. His cock was so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach.
After a few minutes of your silence, Steve glanced up at your face, seeing you discociating, staring at the sky.
"No," He grunted, "We're making love, you'll fucking enjoy it. You don't get to be somewhere else."
Your lip trembled and a tear slid down your cheek as you nodded shakily.
"Not good enough." He grunted, slipping a hand between your bodies and connecting it with your clit.
Your eyes widened in panic when he began stroking circles over your nub whilst continuing his movements with his hips and you felt the tell tale signs of the beginnings of an orgasm building.
"No." You pleaded desperately. "I don't want too."
"Tough." Steve grunted into your ear before nibbling on the lobe.
You felt disgusted that your body was reacting, disgusted that he was forcing you to get pleasure from this heinous act.
The coil kept tightening, tears kept falling and Steve kept humping his cock deep inside you as he lavished your neck and shoulder.
His mouth began to trail lower until he attached his lips to your nipple and sucked harshly, sending another unwanted spark to your core.
"No please." You whimpered as the coil wound incredibly tight, "I don't want too, don't make me, please."
"Well you're going too." Steve said sternly before licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, "You're going to be mine and you're going to cum when I want you to come. You're not a victim, you want this. You want me."
His tongue flicked over your other breast, stiffening your nipple into a peak.
"You're going to be a good wife, you're going to take my cock, you're going to give me children." He grunted before biting down on your breast.
"No, no, no." You whimpered, but it was no use, Steve played your body like a fiddle and soon you came with a distraught scream, clenching around his cock as the tears began to flood down your face.
"Oh fuck that's it." Steve groaned, bringing his face back over yours and bracing both his arms back by either side of your head.
He stared down at you with such intense eye contact that you daren't look away.
He didn't look away either as he thrust into you a few more times.
"I love you, I love you, I love you." He panted before cumming with a loud groan, mouth hanging agape until he stilled.
"Good girl." He hummed, placing a kiss to your soggy cheek before pulling out with a hiss.
You lay on the ground a broken mess, used by these men for their pleasure, forced to have your own, still unable to believe that any of this was really happening.
The sun was lower and the pathways were dark and gloomy when Steve finally got up and tucked himself into his trousers with a satisfied grin.
"Come on angel," He grinned, "Let's go home."
He picked you up like a sack of potatoes and hauled you back over his shoulder before pulling a small silver flashlight from his pocket and turning it on, using it to navigate through the endless maze.
As he walked, his muttering picked up again, this time chanting about what a good wife you were, how much he loved you, how you were his and only his.
"Stay quiet." Steve suddenly grunted, shuffling you on his shoulder before flicking his light off and stepping quietly.
"Oh Ari it's you." He sighed and you felt his shoulders relax.
"Big brother, I see you found yourself a treat." Ari rumbled as he approached.
"We mated," Steve smiled, "She's mine now, gonna get her nice and pregnant."
"That's great Stevie, really great." Ari smiled condescendingly, "You want me to carry her for you, I can help?"
"No," Steve grunted, gripping you harshly and taking a step back, "She's mine."
"It's okay big guy," Ari said with his hands out placatingly, sensing Steve's shift in personality, "I'm not gonna take her, she's yours okay?"
"Mine." Steve growled possessively.
"Okay, you win." Ari said defeatedly, "I'm not gonna fight you okay? Would have been hard enough with you on the meds, let alone off 'em."
"I love her," Steve declared, "She's mine."
"You're right buddy," Ari smiled softly, "She's yours, let's get you both home yeah?"
You were surprised by the interaction, that Ari was so willing to placate Steve. It unsettled you even more. The brothers were so eager to fight each other but Ari wouldn't fight Steve. Just how dangerous was he?
The three of you began to move through the maze, though Steve stayed a few steps behind Ari at all times, seemingly wary of his brother's motives.
After the day from hell that felt like months of pain rolled into one, you crossed the finish line over Steve's shoulder.
You should have been relieved, it was over, you were free from the maze, but something darker loomed.
"Ari, Steve, welcome back." Said the elder, who was sat on a camping chair at the entrance with an open book. He snapped it shut and rose to his feet as Steve shifted you onto your feet.
He placed you in front of himself and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and chest.
"I wanna change the prize." Steve declared and your eyebrows shot up in surprise, was he going to let you go?
"Oh, is that right?" Said the elder with a smirk, "And what is it that you want?"
Ari shifted on his feet as he observed the interaction but didn't interrupt, he just stared at his older brother with a resigned softness that you couldn't decipher.
"You can keep the car and the 5% stake." Steve announced, "But I want her, to myself. We're in love. She's my wife now, she'll have my children."
The elder grinned in amusement before looking down at your shaking form. You couldn't stop the new tears falling at Steve's declaration. You thought you could handle one brother alone, but this brother? Anyone but him, you'd rather be passed around like a toy.
"Deal." Smiled the elder, extending his hand and your stomach plummeted. Steve extended his hand with a grin and shook his fathers happily.
"Congratulations Steve." The elder smiled.
"Yeah congrats brother," Ari smiled with a look of admiration, "You deserve to be happy."
"Well I suppose we best let your brothers know the game is over." Said the elder, before picking up the gun from earlier and releasing another bullet into the air that had you wincing.
"Aww it's okay angel," Steve coo'd in your ear, "Everything's gonna be okay, well be together now, always."
He picked you up bridal style as you whimpered and carried you away from the maze with a happy grin on his face.
You couldn't believe it, you were free, free from the maze but now you were somewhere even darker and this time, you were sure you wouldn't survive.
Summary: You tell Steve you’re pregnant and what should have been a happy moment for the pair of you, well…
Warnings: pregnancy, being accused of cheating, angry steve, angst
WC: 2.3K
[Previous Chapter] [Ao3]
The silence he left behind didn’t feel quiet. It felt loud. Too loud. Every breath you took echoed in your ears, sharp and uneven, your chest tight like something inside you had cracked and hadn’t settled back into place. Your hands trembled where they clutched your stomach, fingers pressing in like you could somehow protect the tiny life inside you from words already spoken.
From him.
“I didn’t lie…” you whispered into the empty room, your voice breaking apart on the last word. “I didn’t…”
But there was no one there to hear it. No one to believe you.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. You couldn’t tell. The light in the apartment shifted, shadows stretching along the walls as the sun dipped lower, painting everything in that soft, cruel gold that made things look warmer than they were.
You hadn’t moved much.
Just enough to pull yourself onto the couch, knees tucked to your chest, arms wrapped tight around yourself like if you let go, you might fall apart completely.
Your mind replayed it. Every word. Every look. The way he stepped back from you. Like you were something to fear. Like you were something dirty. Your stomach twisted, nausea rising—not just from the pregnancy, but from the memory of the accusation in his voice.
Who else have you fucked, Y/N?
You squeezed your eyes shut, fresh tears slipping free. “I didn’t…” you whispered again, weaker this time. God, you wished he had stayed long enough to hear you say it until he believed it.
The door didn’t open again that night. Steve didn’t come back. No call. No message. Nothing. And somehow… that hurt more than the shouting.
The next morning came too quickly. You hadn’t really slept—just drifted in and out of something restless and shallow, your body exhausted but your mind refusing to let you rest.
The apartment felt different in daylight. Colder. Emptier. Like it already knew something had changed.
You forced yourself up, legs unsteady beneath you, one hand instinctively resting over your stomach again.
Still there. Still real. Still his. “Our baby…” you murmured, voice soft, fragile.
The words felt heavier now. Like they belonged to you alone.
A soft knock at the door made you freeze. Your heart jumped—hope, sharp and immediate. “Steve?” you called, already moving before you could stop yourself, wiping at your face as you rushed toward the door.
Maybe he’d calmed down. Maybe he’d thought about it. Maybe— You opened it. And your breath caught. “Hey…” Sam’s voice was gentle, cautious, his eyes scanning your face the second he saw you. “…you okay?”
The hope shattered so fast it almost made you dizzy. “Oh,” you breathed, stepping back slightly. “…yeah. I just—thought…” Your voice trailed off.
Sam frowned, stepping inside slowly. “Thought it was Steve.”
You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. He already knew. His gaze softened, concern deepening as he took in your red eyes, your pale face, the way your arms wrapped protectively around yourself.
“Hey… what happened?” he asked quietly.
And that was it. That was all it took. The tears came back hard, fast, uncontrollable as your composure finally broke completely.
“He thinks I cheated,” you choked out, shaking your head. “He—he thinks the baby isn’t his, Sam, and I tried to tell him, I swore—”
Sam went still. “…baby?” he repeated, blinking in shock.
You nodded, pressing a hand to your stomach again like it grounded you. “I’m pregnant.”
Silence filled the space between you for a beat.
Then another.
“…and he thinks it’s not his,” Sam said slowly, disbelief creeping into his tone.
“Yes!” Your voice cracked. “Because of the serum—because he thinks he can’t—and I didn’t even know how to explain it properly because he wouldn’t listen—he just—he looked at me like I was—” Your breath hitched. “Like I was nothing.”
Sam’s jaw tightened, something protective flashing behind his eyes. “That’s not right,” he muttered.
“I didn’t cheat,” you whispered again, smaller now, like you needed someone—anyone—to just confirm reality hadn’t slipped out from under you. “I didn’t, Sam.”
“I know you didn’t.” The certainty in his voice hit you harder than anything else had.
You looked up at him, eyes wide, searching. “You… believe me?” you asked, barely audible.
“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “I do.”
Something inside you broke all over again—but softer this time. Relief. Pain. Grief. All tangled together. Your knees nearly gave out as a sob tore through you, and Sam stepped forward instantly, steadying you before you could fall.
“I got you,” he murmured, guiding you back toward the couch. “Easy—hey, sit down. Breathe.”
You clung to him for a second longer than you meant to. Just… needing something solid. Someone who didn’t look at you like you’d destroyed everything.
Across the city, Steve wasn’t doing any better. He hadn’t gone far. Just far enough. Far enough that the walls didn’t feel like they were closing in, far enough that your voice wasn’t still echoing in his head—
I swear, Steve, it’s ours! Only ours!
His hands braced against the edge of a rooftop, knuckles white, breath coming hard and uneven. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. He knew what the serum had done. He knew what he’d been told—what had been drilled into him, clinically, repeatedly.
Infertile. Impossible. No exceptions.
So how—His jaw clenched.
“No,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head like he could physically force the doubt away. “No, don’t—don’t start.” Because doubt was dangerous. Doubt meant considering the possibility that you were telling the truth. And if you were telling the truth… Then what the hell had he just done?
Steve dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “I know what I heard,” he said to himself, voice tight. “I know what I saw.” But even as he said it… Your face flashed in his mind. The way you’d looked at him.
Not guilty. Not defensive. Just… Broken. His chest tightened painfully. “…damn it.” For a split second—just a second—the certainty wavered. And that was all it took for something colder to creep in beneath the anger.
Fear.
Because if there was even a chance… Even a chance… Then he hadn’t just walked out on you. He’d walked out on his family.
Back in the apartment, you sat curled into the corner of the couch, Sam beside you, a glass of water untouched in your hands. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted quietly, staring down at nothing. “If he doesn’t believe me… I can’t force him to. I can’t make him stay.”
Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees, thinking. “We’ll figure it out,” he said after a moment. “One step at a time, okay?”
Your lips trembled. “What if he never comes back?”
Sam didn’t answer right away. And somehow… that silence said everything.
You swallowed hard, blinking back another wave of tears. “…then I guess,” you whispered, voice fragile but trying—trying—to be steady, “…I do this without him.”
Your hand rested over your stomach again. A small, protective gesture. But this time… There was something else behind it. Not just fear. Not just heartbreak. Something quieter. Stronger. Because no matter what Steve believed— This baby was real. And you weren’t alone anymore.
A month felt like a lifetime when everything in it hurt.
And somehow—
It still wasn’t enough time.
—
The tower didn’t feel like home anymore. It hadn’t since that night. Since the look on Steve’s face burned itself into your memory like something permanent—like something you’d never quite scrub clean no matter how much time passed.
You’d avoided him. Or maybe… he’d avoided you. It was hard to tell. Missions had been separate. Briefings staggered. You slipped out of rooms just as he walked in, and he did the same when it was you.
A silent agreement. Or maybe just mutual cowardice.
—
“Alright, listen up,” Tony’s voice cut through the room as you leaned against the far wall of the briefing room, arms folded loosely beneath your chest—careful, always careful now.
“The intel’s solid. In, out, minimal mess. Even you two can manage that.”
You barely heard the rest.
Because for the first time in weeks, You felt it. That shift in the room. That pull. Your eyes lifted before you could stop them. And there he was. Steve stood across the room, shoulders just as broad, posture just as steady—but something about him was… different. Tighter. Like he was holding himself together instead of just being.
And he was already looking at you. Like he had been. Your breath caught. For a second, neither of you moved. Didn’t speak. Didn’t look away. And then his gaze dropped. Not to your face. Lower. Your stomach.
It wasn’t obvious to anyone else. Not yet. But to him? He noticed. Of course he noticed. The slight curve. The way your stance had changed. The instinctive way your hand rested there sometimes, like you didn’t even realize you were doing it. His jaw tightened. Hard.
The meeting ended. Chairs scraped. People talked. Normalcy resumed like nothing had ever broken. But you stayed where you were. Because your legs didn’t feel entirely steady. Because your heart was beating too fast. Because you knew— You knew— He was walking toward you.
“Y/N.” Your name sounded different in his voice now. Quieter. Rougher. Like it had been sitting in his throat for weeks with nowhere to go. You turned slowly. And there he was. Closer than he’d been in a month. Close enough that you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. The guilt. The hesitation.
“…Steve.” It was the first time you’d said his name out loud since everything. It felt heavier than it should have.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Just stood there. Caught in the wreckage of something neither of you quite knew how to fix.
“…you look…” he started, then stopped himself, exhaling softly. “You look okay.” It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t perfect. But it was… something.
“I am,” you said quietly. “Mostly.”
His eyes flickered again—down, then back up, like he was trying not to be obvious. Trying not to stare. Failing. “…you’ve been taking care of yourself?” he asked, voice careful now. Measured.
It almost sounded like he didn’t think he had the right to ask.
Your hand instinctively rested over your stomach. “Yeah,” you nodded. “I have.”
Silence stretched again. But it wasn’t as sharp as before. Just… uncertain.
Steve swallowed. “…I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
Your chest tightened. Of course he had. So had you. Too much. “I figured,” you said softly.
His hands flexed at his sides, like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “…I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he admitted, the words rough, like they were hard to get out. “Or—no, that’s not—” He shook his head slightly. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
You didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush him. Because this? This mattered.
“I was scared,” he continued, quieter now. “And I let that turn into something else.” His jaw clenched briefly. “Something ugly.”
Your throat tightened. “…you hurt me,” you said, not accusing—just honest.
“I know.” Immediate. No hesitation. That hurt more than if he’d argued. “I know,” he repeated, softer. “And I’ve been trying to figure out how to… fix that.”
Your eyes searched his. “…can you?” It wasn’t a challenge. It was a real question.
Steve didn’t answer right away. Because he wasn’t going to lie to you again—not even with something hopeful. “…I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I want to try.” Something in your chest shifted. Just slightly.
His gaze dropped again. This time, he didn’t look away. “…how far along?” he asked, voice almost hesitant.
“Almost nine weeks,” you said.
He nodded slowly. Processing. “…have you…?” He hesitated. “Have you gone to appointments?”
“Yeah.”
“…alone?” The word came out tighter than he meant it to.
You didn’t sugarcoat it. “…yeah.”
That hit him. You could see it. Clear as day. His shoulders dipped just slightly, something like regret settling heavier across him. “…I should’ve been there.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t fishing for forgiveness. Just… truth.
You swallowed. “…yet, you weren’t.”
Another quiet beat.
Then, carefully—like approaching something fragile, h stepped closer. Not enough towards you. But enough. Lifting his hand slightly, he paused. Almost as though he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to touch you. “…can I?” he asked softly, eyes flicking to your stomach.
The question alone nearly broke you. Because a month ago— He wouldn’t have asked. He would’ve pulled away. Accused. Left. Now? He was waiting. For you.
Your breath caught. “…okay,” you whispered.
That was all he needed. Steve’s hand rested gently against your stomach. Careful. Reverent. Like he was touching something sacred. His fingers barely pressed—like he was afraid he might hurt you, or it, or both.
And for a moment, He just stood there. Silent. Breathing. Feeling. “…hi,” he murmured, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.
Your chest tightened instantly. Tears stung your eyes. Because that? That wasn’t doubt. That wasn’t anger. That was something else entirely. Something soft. Something real.
Steve exhaled shakily, his forehead dipping just slightly, like the weight of everything finally caught up to him. “…I don’t understand how,” he admitted quietly. “I still don’t.”
You nodded faintly. “I know.”
“But…” His hand stayed where it was, steady now. Grounded. “…I want to.”
Your breath hitched.
His eyes lifted to yours again. Clear. Open. “…if you’ll let me.” There it was. Not a demand. Not an expectation. A choice. Given back to you.
Your lips trembled slightly. Because you should make him work for it. You should hold onto the hurt a little longer. But instead, your hand slid over his, resting there. Keeping it in place. “…okay,” you whispered again.
And this time—It meant more.
His shoulders finally relaxed. Just a fraction. But it was the first time in weeks. His thumb shifted slightly beneath your hand—careful, gentle—like he was grounding himself in the moment. In you. In this.
“We’ll take it slow,” he said softly.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t fixed. Not even close. But for the first time since everything shattered— It didn’t feel impossible anymore. And that? That was enough to start.
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as power imbalance age gap, and noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your new job brings you into the crosshairs of the CEO.
Characters: CEO Steve Rogers, plus!reader
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Your efforts to make the best of the flight are as fruitful as those at your new job. You can’t sleep, you can’t focus enough to read, and the onboard movies aren’t very compelling.
At the halfway point, your head begins to pound. You didn’t sleep much before you got on the plane, the airport was a cacophony of overstimulation, and the flight is endless; even with the stopover.
You restlessly wait to escape your neighbour. The crusty socked man was replaced by a man who shelled sunflower seeds all over his lap and chewed like a camel. After his grand feast, he fell into a coma complete with a grinding snore.
When at last the signs come on for seatbelts and your impending arrival is announced, you’re hardly relieved. You still have to get off the plane, through another airport, then… what?
You stand as the aisle clears near your row. You grab your bag from the compartment as your head spins and your body aches. Your brain is dull and your eyes droopy. It’s as if you’re wading through sludge.
Your disembarkment is tedious and slow. The impatience of your fellow passengers only makes it feel longer. When at last you cross the tarmac to the tunnel, you’re dizzy with fatigue and anxiety. You follow the signs around the airport to your arrival gate then stand stranded among the rush.
Where do you go now? That question should have occurred to you sooner but you were so focused on the flight and getting through that, that you could barely think of anything else. That and the all-looming presence of the CEO. You can’t even appreciate your surroundings. You’re in Sydney and that only fills you with dread.
You turn airplane mode off and you have an email. It’s a forward of the previous one with the ticket. This time, you only get an address. You tap it and put it into the maps app. A hotel. Figures.
You go out and nearly drown in the flurry of new arrivals. As taxis pull away, new ones appear, quickly claimed by travellers more confident than yourself. Oh come on. You’re already behind with how long it took you just to get off the plane.
Finally, you get in the backseat of a cab, dragging your bag in next to you instead of dumping it in the trunk. The driver gives you a look in the rearview. Whatever. You just have to put up with him for the ride. You’ll tip him well to make up for your existence.
You give the address as you buckle your seatbelt. Your mind races over the unfamiliar streets to the hotel. You have no idea what’s awaiting you. Is it him? And why exactly are you meeting him there? Should you have booked yourself a hotel before you came? Why did you ask zero questions? You really are stupid.
The driver asks you the questions he probably asks everyone. His accent is nice, almost comforting. ‘What are you in town for?’ ‘Business’ ‘Oh, how long?’ It goes on but can’t chase away the shadow that darkens your mind.
You get to the hotel and thank the driver one last time. You pull your bag behind you toward the sleek entryway. You could never afford to stay somewhere like this. This is the kind of place you see on an influencer’s vlog and wonder how they can even pay for it.
You stop at the front desk. A woman with sun-kissed cheeks smiles at you and greets you brightly in the local accent.
“Hi, um, I… I’m looking for Mr. Rogers. Steve Rogers? I think he’s staying here…”
She nods and tells you to hold. She picks up the phone as she types on her computer. She keys in an extension and waits.
“Hello, sir. Front desk. This is Theresa. You have a visitor down here. Oh, yes, a moment.” She pauses and asks you your name. You eke it out as you flick your lashes out of a droop. She recites your response into the phone, hums, then hangs up.
“He’s in an executive suite. I’ll write the number down for you.” She grabs a card for the hotel and scribbles on it. “Welcome and enjoy.”
She hands it over and you thank her. You swivel awkwardly before you get your bearings. You cross to the elevators and check the card. The doors open and you enter, jabbing the button until it closes behind you.
The ascent adds to the swirly sensation in your skull. You grip the handle of your bag as you teeter. At last, you reach the right floor and step off. You stomp down the hall, gathering all your strength to keep going.
You match the loopy numbers on the card to the room sign. You tuck away the card and take a breath. You knock and your heart swells, ready to explode.
You wait, staring dully at the door. You feel yourself leaning and blink. Don’t. Wake up.
The door opens and you gasp. Mr. Rogers growls as he stands in only a towel. Your mouth falls open and you gap dumbly. Don’t look below his face! And yet, it’s almost impossible to keep eye contact as his irises blaze with agitation.
“You got some timing.” He snarls. “Took long enough.”
You gulp. “Sir–”
“Get in here.” He grabs your arm and forces you through the door. Your bag bounces on its plastic wheels.
He lets you go with a huff and swings the door so it slams. You wince and back up, pulling your bag in front of you like a shield. He growls and grabs it, wrenching it out of your hands.
“I don’t wait on anyone.” He drags your bag further into the suite then hauls it up onto the sofa. He unzips it. “Especially not an inmate.”
“Sir…” you go to follow but stop yourself. You take off your shoes before going any further.
He flips up the lid of the suitcase and digs through your clothes. He unfolds them, examining each piece before tossing it onto the floor behind the sofa. You clasp your hands together and watch sheepishly.
His biceps bulge and his chest strains as he growls under his breath. He clucks and shakes his head as he shakes out a pair of your panties. You touch your hot cheeks and cringe.
“Sir–”
He hushes you and flings the underwear. His eyes narrow as he looks at you.
“All of this is trash. Get rid of it.”
“Sir. I don’t have–” You stop as his glare intensifies. “Yes, Mr. Rogers. I’ll deal with it.”
You go to gather up your clothes. As you bend over, you sense him moving. Suddenly, he’s behind you. He grips your hips and squeezes. He rubs himself against your ass.
“No. You deal with this problem first.”
He unlatches one hand and you feel a shift. His towel falls to his feet and you snap up straight. You squeak in surprise and horror. His hand curls around your neck and he pulls you back against him.
“This.” He drags his hand up your side and pinches your shirt. “Not acceptable. Take. It. Off.”
You nod as he squeezes your neck then lets you go. You tremble as you grab the hem of your shirt and strip it off. You shiver and he swats the back of your head.
“All of it.”
Your eyes tinge and you look down at the floor. Humiliation boils under your skin as you obey. You don’t know what you thought was going to happen but this is all too surreal. It can’t be happening.
You undress, bit by bit, shaking so much you can barely get your fly undone. You feel him fuming behind you as you refuse to look at him. As you push your panties down to your thighs and let them fall to the floor, he growls.
He grabs your shoulder and spins you around. You catch your chest as it jiggles and squeeze your legs together, scalded by your nudity. He tilts his head as his eyes skim your body.
“Well,” he grips his hips and looks down. His arousal bobs in front of him. “I didn’t bring you here to stare at me like a bimbo.”
Your eyes round and you pout. “Mr. Rogers–”
He steps closer and grabs your chin. He squeezes behind your jaw until you whimper. “What I want from that mouth is not a conversation. Understand?”
Your eyes glisten and you bat away the tears before they can fall. You try to nod but can’t. “I understand, Mr. Rogers.”
He scoffs and rips his hand away. You stagger and shakily sway before him. You clasp your hands to fists and slowly lower yourself to your knees. Your lip quivers as you come just below with his pelvis. You press your lips tight and force your hands open.
He grabs your head and you squeal. He bends his knees as he positions himself in front of you. You wrap your hand around his dick, the veins rigid against your palm, and you whine again. You slide up and down his length, a quavery breath fluttering up your throat.
You wet your lips as you bring his tip down to meet them. You close your eyes as defeat boils in your chest. You open your mouth around him. As you press your tongue to his head, he groans and grips your head tighter.
You slowly take him deeper, tongue firm to him as you push down to your limit. It’s not near all of him. You try to pull back but he doesn’t let you. He tilts your head further back as he angles himself over you.
His fingers splay around your skull as he forces himself into your throat. You kick your feet and slap his thick thigh as you gag. Your eyes roll back as hot tears line their brims. You can’t breathe around him.
He plunges past your reflex as your body tenses and your head pounds. He doesn’t stop until he’s completely buried in you. You think you’re going to pass out.
He rolls his pelvis back and takes himself out of you entirely. You gasp and gulp, throat ragged and burning. You flick your lashes as tears spill over. His dick shines and strings with your saliva.
He shifts his grip on your head, fisting your hair, and rams back into you. Your hand crawls up his stomach as he dips into your throat. Again, he sinks down until you suffocate, but this time, does not pull all the way out.
He thrust in and out in tempo. He buries himself to his limit then rolls back, just between your lips, and back in again. He stills his hips and moves you on him like a rag doll. Your nerves scatter and your mind splits. You can only think of it ending. You just want it to be over.
His grunts and the wet noises of your mouth fill the suite. He fucks your mouth until your dozed and dazed. Until you’re as good as dangling from his grip.
He growls and twitches, pulling you off him suddenly. He keeps a hold of your hair as your wet lashes part. Your vision is hazy as he pumps himself above you. His voice rumbles in his chest and rattles in his throat. Warmth strings across your face and neck, spattering down your chest as he cums, shaking as he spills onto you shamelessly.
He heaves and lets you go. You fall back and catch yourself on your elbows. You lay weak and worn as he backs up and sighs. He tilts his head until his neck cracks.
“If you can’t dress yourself right, you can just wear me.” He sneers.
Pairings: Avengers x Reader (Namely, Steve, Natasha, Tony)
Summary: A duffel bag appears in the middle of Times Square with a single instruction attached: "Call the Avengers." Inside, they find a woman with no name, no fingerprints, and no memory of how she got there. Her combat instincts rival Natasha’s, her adaptability confounds Tony’s diagnostics, and every attempt to trace her identity comes back empty… Until Dr Cho turns on the blacklight… Across her back, bioluminescent tattoos reveal three names: Rogers, Romanoff, Stark. And the more they dig, the stranger things become…
Themes: amnesia · fractured past and hidden agendas · government secrets · mutants vs humans
Warning: This story leans heavily toward mutants in power and human experimentation during South Africa's Apartheid era. So expect violence, torture references and imprisonment, psychological manipulation, body horror, racial trauma, and war crimes. These elements are presented as part of the dystopian world-building and are NOT intended to romanticise or trivialise the real historical trauma of Apartheid or racial discrimination.
Chapter Seven Excerpt: ZIP (Zeta Interacting Protein)
The lab was silent, save for the rustle of papers and occasional frustrated sighs. Jemma squinted at yet another perfectly normal (well, normal for your unique situation) test result, her temples beginning to throb from hours of searching for anomalies that simply weren't there.
"Nothing," she muttered, setting aside Cho's blood work analysis. "Not a single irregular marker in any of the conventional tests. How can they all be inconclusive?"
Leo slumped in his chair, absentmindedly spinning a pen between his fingers. "Stark's fancy, new quantum-enhanced MRI is even worse. It's not showing anything. Not even baseline readings." He tossed the pen onto the desk with a clatter. "How are we supposed to find something that Dr Banner and Stark could have missed? It's like tasking us with solving the suspicious death of Nikola Tesla."
"There has to be something we're not seeing." Jemma spread the test results across the desk for the hundredth time. "Inconclusive blood work, scrambled genetic markers, textbook cellular structure..." she trailed off, stifling a yawn.
"Face it, Jemma. We're out of our depth here." Leo rolled his chair closer, gesturing at Dr Cho's impeccably detailed genetic analysis. "It's like someone went in and wiped her clean."
Jemma's head snapped up. "Say that again."
"What? We're out of our depth?"
"No, the part about someone wiping her clean. What if that's exactly what's happened?"
Leo straightened in his chair, catching her train of thought. "Like someone intentionally erased everything that could identify her?"
"We've fallen into the same rut as the others. Too focused on the bigger picture to see the details..." Jemma was already pulling up the digital copies of the test results on her tablet. "Let's start at the beginning. See if you can get your hands on footage of that night."
The two scientists dove back into the data, this time looking not for what was wrong, but for the tiniest abnormality, just as Coulson had requested, however insignificant.
Jemma returned to Bruce's first batch, taking a second look at his flagged protein markers. After a quick search on their database, she glanced up at Leo, face as white as a ghost.
"Fitz... Fitz, take a look at this... I don't think our Jane Doe's been faking or hiding anything."
Leo rolled his chair over, leaning in to examine Jemma's tablet.
"According to the tox screen, her system's flooded with ZIP. Zeta Interacting Protein. An experimental drug for PTSD sufferers. Rape victims, soldiers who've seen combat... Used sparingly, it can erase selective memories. In Jane Doe's case, it's created a chemically induced state of permanent amnesia."
"That's... that's not possible. ZIP trials were discontinued years ago. The side effects were too severe. Cognitive deterioration, personality disorders..." Leo inhaled deeply and blew out his breath. "The amount you're describing would basically reset the entire brain. Why would anyone-" He cut himself off, the implications hitting him like a punch to the gut.
Jemma turned to the live security feed, watching your sedated body back in the lab, and sighed heavily. "Poor girl's telling the truth, and here we are, treating her like a villain."
Additional tags: My entry for the @marvelrarepairs Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Card MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.
@saiyanprincessswanie
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It wasn’t obvious at first glance. His posture remained upright, his breathing controlled, his expression neutral. But there was a stiffness in his shoulders, a tension in his jaw that wouldn’t go away, and a way of standing too still that gave away that he wasn’t resting but waiting.
The house was in semi-darkness, barely illuminated by the faint light filtering in from outside. Everything was silent.
The first sound was faint.
A sharp thud.
Then another.
And then, a sudden movement that shattered the stillness.
Steve sprang to his feet.
His body reacted before his mind had finished processing.
He moved silently down the hallway; when he opened the door, what he found wasn’t an attack.
It was something worse.
Clint Barton was sitting on the bed, leaning forward, breathing heavily, as if he’d just finished a race that his body hadn’t quite shaken off yet. His hands were tense, one of them clutching the sheets tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure.
His eyes weren’t fully focused.
He wasn’t quite present.
Steve didn’t say anything at first.
He entered slowly, closing the door behind him carefully, as if any sudden noise might make the situation worse. He approached without intruding, maintaining a short but respectful distance.
Clint didn’t look at him right away.
His breathing was still irregular, trying to steady itself but not quite managing it.
That’s when Steve spoke.
“Yeah,” he finally replied.
Steve took a step closer.
“Nightmare,” Clint said after a moment, more as a confirmation than an explanation.
Steve nodded slightly.
“I know.”
It took a while for Clint to fully come back to himself.
The sound of his breathing began to change little by little, becoming more regular, more controlled. His shoulders dropped slightly, the tension easing just enough to allow him to be truly present.
Steve watched every change.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a moment.
Clint let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Not much to say.”
He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the remnants of what he’d seen.
“Same old, same old.”
Steve didn’t respond right away.
He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to be there but without invading Clint’s personal space.
“Sometimes it changes,” Steve said. “The details.”
Clint nodded.
“Yeah.”
Steve rested his forearms on his legs, leaning forward slightly, adopting a more relaxed, less rigid posture. “Do you want to be alone?” he asked.
Clint shook his head almost immediately.
“No.”
The answer came faster than he’d expected.
Steve nodded.
He didn’t comment on it.
Several minutes passed in silence.
Clint finally leaned his back against the wall, stretching out his legs, his posture less defensive now.
“Do you sleep?” he asked suddenly, turning his head toward Steve.
Steve hesitated just a moment.
Long enough.
“Sometimes.”
Clint raised an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
Steve exhaled through his nose.
“It’s not always easy.”
Clint let out another small laugh.
“That’s a fancy way of saying you don’t get any rest either.”
Steve didn’t deny it.
“Nightmares?” Clint asked.
Steve remained silent for another second.
“Memories,” he replied.
Clint nodded.
“Yeah… that too.”
Clint ran a hand through the back of his neck, letting out a more controlled sigh.
N/A: Esta es mi entrada al Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Carta MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, versión en inglés.
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No era evidente a simple vista. Su postura seguía siendo recta, su respiración controlada, su expresión neutral. Pero había una rigidez en sus hombros, una tensión en la mandíbula que no desaparecía, una forma de quedarse demasiado quieto que delataba que no estaba descansando, sino esperando.
La casa estaba en penumbra, apenas iluminada por la tenue luz que se filtraba desde el exterior. Todo estaba en silencio.
El primer sonido fue leve.
Un golpe seco.
Luego otro.
Y después, un movimiento brusco que rompió la quietud.
Steve se levantó de inmediato.
Su cuerpo reaccionó antes de que su mente terminara de procesar.
Se movió por el pasillo sin hacer ruido, cuando abrió la puerta, lo que encontró no fue un ataque.
Fue algo peor.
Clint Barton estaba sentado en la cama, inclinado hacia adelante, respirando con dificultad, como si acabara de salir de una carrera que no terminaba de abandonar su cuerpo. Sus manos estaban tensas, una de ellas aferrando las sábanas con fuerza, los nudillos marcados por la presión.
Sus ojos no estaban completamente enfocados.
No del todo presentes.
Steve no dijo nada al inicio.
Entró despacio, cerrando la puerta detrás de él con cuidado, como si cualquier sonido brusco pudiera empeorar la situación. Se acercó sin invadir, manteniendo una distancia corta pero respetuosa.
Clint no lo miró de inmediato.
Su respiración seguía irregular, intentando estabilizarse, pero sin lograrlo del todo.
Fue entonces cuando Steve habló.
—Sí —respondió finalmente.
Steve dio un paso más cerca.
—Pesadilla —dijo Clint después, más como confirmación que como explicación.
Steve asintió apenas.
—Lo sé.
Tiempo para que Clint regresara completamente.
El sonido de su respiración comenzó a cambiar poco a poco, volviéndose más regular, más controlada. Sus hombros bajaron apenas, la tensión cediendo lo suficiente como para permitirle estar realmente presente.
Steve observó cada cambio.
—¿Quieres hablarlo? —preguntó después de un momento.
Clint soltó una risa corta, sin humor.
—No mucho que decir.
Pasó una mano por su rostro, como si intentara borrar los restos de lo que había visto.
—Es lo de siempre.
Steve no respondió de inmediato.
Se sentó en el borde de la cama, lo suficientemente cerca como para estar ahí, pero sin invadir el espacio personal de Clint.
—A veces cambia —dijo Steve—. Los detalles.
Clint asintió.
—Sí.
Steve apoyó sus antebrazos sobre sus piernas, inclinándose ligeramente hacia adelante, adoptando una postura más relajada, menos rígida. —¿Quieres quedarte solo? —preguntó.
Clint negó casi de inmediato.
—No.
La respuesta fue más rápida de lo que esperaba.
Steve asintió.
No hizo ningún comentario al respecto.
Pasaron varios minutos sin palabras.
Clint finalmente apoyó la espalda contra la pared, estirando las piernas, su postura menos defensiva ahora.
—¿Tú duermes? —preguntó de repente, girando la cabeza hacia Steve.
Steve dudó apenas.
Lo suficiente.
—A veces.
Clint arqueó una ceja.
—Eso no suena muy convincente.
Steve exhaló por la nariz.
—No siempre es fácil.
Clint soltó otra pequeña risa.
—Eso es una forma elegante de decir que tampoco descansas.
Steve no lo negó.
—¿Pesadillas? —preguntó Clint.
Steve se quedó en silencio un segundo más.
—Recuerdos —respondió.
Clint asintió.
—Sí… eso también.
Clint pasó una mano por su nuca, soltando un suspiro más controlado.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x platonic!reader, Steve Rogers x daughter!reader, Steve Rogers x black!reader, peter parker x reader
summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when SHIELD breaks you out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.
word count: 7.3k
warnings: hurt/comfort, life in hydra explored, child trauma, slow burn with peter parker (like you'll be waiting a hot minute before he's even introduced)
masterlist | previous part
You hit Peter in the chest when you saw him with Ned in the hallway as everyone cleared out to head to their last class of the day.
“Ow, what was that for?”
“Washington? What the hell, Peter?! Why did I find out from the news instead of you that the Washington Monument almost collapsed?”
“How’d you know it was me? I cleared the area before anyone showed up.”
“How long have I been an Avenger… Ned told me.”
“Well you were on vacation and I didn’t want you to be distracted.”
“Next time, distract me, I don’t care. And how am I supposed to cover for you if I don’t know what to cover for?”
“Well it wasn’t exactly planned.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll text you after.”
“Thank you. Oh, I got these for you two.”
You handed Ned a pair of Mickey ears and presented Peter with the Peter Pan hat, making him laugh. You adjusted the hat on his head.
“Thank you, TinkerDarling.”
“I’m gonna let that slide only because I’m about to say the dumbest thing ever.”
“Does it involve you telling me you’re actually made of pixie dust… you’re joking.”
“Not quite pixie dust, but twirl me.”
Peter grabbed your hand and spun you. He and Ned wowed as you made your skin glitter.
“The kids got me thinking about if I could harden the diamond on command, without having to get hit, you know.”
“Oh now I’m really not letting it go, Tink.”
“Then you and Ned are my Lost Boys.”
“Of course.” Peter twirled you one more time.
“Alright. I have a free period so I’m going back to Neverland, would ask if you wanna come but heard you got detention?”
You smirked while Peter rolled his eyes at you. You gave Ned a peck on the cheek and the Peter.
“See you tomorrow, Ned, Peter Parker.”
✿✿✿
You ate breakfast in the common room dining area because it was one of the few occasions the entire team was up early on a weekday before you had to leave for school. Pepper came strolling in, already in her business attire, typing something away on her phone.
“We did it, Avengers Tower has been sold. I’m enlisting all of you to help with moving, no complaints.”
“You sold the Tower, Uncle Tony?”
“Ever since we started phasing all of the New York S.H.I.E.L.D. branch into the compound, I just don’t see a reason for us to have both. Keep everything in a central location. How much was it bought for Pep?” Tony moved to the toaster to wait for his breakfast.
“More than necessary.”
“Capsicle, ever heard of a trust fund? Sarah got one?”
“No.”
Tony caught the toast as it popped out of the toaster.
“Ms. Potts, set up a trust for Baby Wilson-Rogers… Split it, half to the Spiderling.” Tony aggressively took a bite out of the toast and walked out of the common room and towards his lab. Nat poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Well, now we know why he’s never having children. He already has two.”
“Wait, does this mean I’m a millionaire?”
“Technically, multi,” Pepper said. “And technically, not till you graduate. Finish eating, Happy’s downstairs already.”
You finished and went to the car. Happy laughed as you tried to convince him to let you drive to school— not succeeding. When you jumped out of the car, you saw MJ on the bench reading. She looked up from her book.
“Jared’s going to ask you to the dance before homeroom.”
“Oh, joy.”
“This makes him sad male number five?”
“It’s not sad… and number six. Do you want to go dress shopping after school?”
“Yeah, sure.”
You extended a hand that she reluctantly took and walked with you inside. MJ never walked with you for very long but she was slowly opening up considering this was the first time she stayed holding your hand as you pulled her inside. When you caught up to Peter and Ned alone, Peter was buzzing in anticipation to tell you something. He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation.
“I found out their next whereabouts, new buyer named Mac Gargan.”
“Look at you go. So new buyer, what are you going to do now?”
“They meet tomorrow on the Staten Island Ferry. I know we were supposed to go see that improv show but—”
“But you’ve got a job to do. I get it Spider-man, I guess this is payback from when I had to bail on bowling… you know, I’ve never been to Staten Island.”
“It’s… Staten Island. When it’s not a mission, let’s go.”
You and Peter shook on it. Even if you two never ended up going, the thought of it was still nice. You didn’t know what you were going to do over the weekend anymore— Ned’s wasn’t even an option because of a family reunion. Most of the house was going to be on a mission or in Tony’s case various “business trips” for Stark Industries that very closely resembled vacation. Maybe Pepper would want to go with you somewhere but she was overseeing the move.
Your Aunt Laura and Cousin Lila ended up being your substitutes for Saturday morning with Peter when Clint came in to fill out the papers regarding his “probation/house arrest” that he was taking way too seriously as an excuse for a vacation he felt was long overdue. Laura and Lila agreed to go to the nail salon with you. When you guys came back to the compound, you proudly showed off your nails to your family.
“Oh that’s cool, they change color,” Wanda said. “I’ve always wanted to try that.”
You looked at your nails, but didn’t see anything. You were about to ask when Steve entered the room. He didn’t get very far into the common room when you shoved your nails in his face. Steve grabbed your hands.
“They’re very pretty, Babydoll.”
“Wanda says they change color.”
Steve looked at the nails reflecting in the sunlight and started to chuckle before he caught himself.
“They change from purple to blue.”
You looked at your own nails for a moment. It still looked blue and more blue.
“Oh.”
Steve couldn’t stop himself from laughing that time. You didn’t even register the color change and it wouldn’t help this time if he attempted to describe the purple one to you. He couldn’t remember the last time he really helped you with color and shade perception, with you explicitly asking him. Even in the drawings they had hung up in the apartment, you either avoided those two colors if you couldn’t figure it out or just didn’t care. Sometimes the sky was light purple or Steve’s eyes were periwinkle instead of light blue, other times the purple petals were actually blue. Occasionally Steve would wordlessly rearrange the pastels, crayons, and pencils so you could attempt to see the shades or at least if it seemed more blue or purple. Neither of you acknowledged that he did it but he saw the smile of appreciation every single time.
“FRIDAY, play chess with me, please?” you asked the AI as you set the chess board on the coffee table in the common room.
“Of course, TinkerDarling.”
You looked up at the ceiling, unamused, muttering Uncle Tony. Pietro, who was dangling over the couch while watching TV, laughed.
“Sarah’s fine.”
“Understood, Sarah,” FRIDAY said as a small robotic arm extended from the coffee table to play with you.
You had tried to get the others to play chess but with little success. Steve thought too much about each move, Tony just talked too much, Pietro was too fast, Wanda liked to cheat. Clint refused to learn the rules. Sam and Nat were okay but didn’t enjoy it most of the time and Bruce, who you suspected would be the perfect partner, was still missing in action. Bucky was fine too but he was on a mission and didn’t come back till tonight. And Thor, well aside from also missing with Bruce, you weren’t sure if he even knew or was interested in the Midguardian game.
“Sarah Elise Rogers!” Tony yelled as he entered the common room.
“Uh-oh, government name,” Pietro said as you looked away from the tv to where he walked in.
“Yes, Uncle Tony?” You asked, not looking up from your game as you took FRIDAY’s bishop.
“You know where your little boyfriend is right now?”
That caused you to put your rook in a bad spot, FRIDAY taking it, as you looked up at Tony in confusion. You weren’t sure when you had acquired a boyfriend. And if you magically had a boyfriend you were very curious to learn his name and maybe meet him.
“What?”
“Peter Parker, that name ring a bell?”
“He should be at his house…”
“You know where he was before I took him home, no? Here’s an idea, destroying a ferry! And you knew. You knew that he’s going after whoever the hell and you didn’t tell anyone!”
“He just wanted a chance.”
“Yeah I heard that.”
“I’m on the team, Uncle Tony. Peter can become a ful—”
“Oh we’re changing that.”
Tony threw the briefcase down on the table.
“Parker’s suit is in there and after this stunt you seemed to be accomplice to, yours is gonna be in there as well for the time being.”
“Uncle Tony!”
“No! No, Sarah. This was serious and clearly you two are still immature. Act like a child, get treated like one. You go to school, you go to Peter’s and do homework, you come home, you go to bed. Rinse and repeat until you’re mature enough to think simple things through like telling us what the hell is happening… FRIDAY, where is Captain Rogers?”
“Uncle Tony, wait, please…”
“Captain Rogers is in the gym sparring with Agent Romanoff.”
“Let him know I’m on the way up.”
“Understood, Mr. Stark.”
“Uncle Tony,” you pleaded again but Tony was walking off.
✿✿✿
You sat in the passenger’s seat of the car, arms crossed. Steve pulled into the school parking lot instead of just rolling up to the front. He turned off the car and looked at you. Your head stayed focused straight ahead, watching the students head into the building.
“You haven’t talked to Sam or Bucky, this is the first time since the weekend I’ve seen your hearing aids in, and you refuse to look at me.”
“I’ve got to go. Math test I should study for.”
“You have a 99 in that class.”
“Because I study.”
You unbuckled your seatbelt and started to get out of the car.
“Sarah.”
You finally turned to Steve, wiping tears. He watched you suck in a breath.
“I get it. I’m off the team, Dheaidí. There’s nothing to discuss anymore, you said it all on Saturday. We were stupid and acted like children. I would just like to get to class now.”
“Sarah—”
“May I please go to school, Captain?” you asked with an air of desperation.
Steve faltered and nodded. You pursed your lip in thought for a moment.
“I’m going to have dinner at Peter’s.”
“I was hoping we could have family dinner.”
“Can we do it tomorrow?”
“I— Sure, Babydoll.”
“Thank you… I promise I’ll be in a better mood when Happy drops me off.”
Steve watched you swing your backpack over your shoulders and head into the building. He sighed. He was confident in his decision but wished you would have taken it better. He couldn’t even get Sam to play good cop or Nat or Bucky. They all agreed with Tony, leaving Pietro to be the only person in the compound you talked to the whole weekend.
“Sarah!” Ned called out. “Are you okay?”
Peter turned at Ned’s words. You came towards them looking frustrated and upset.
“They benched me. My dad actually listened to Uncle Tony and benched me. I’m not even allowed in the training room or the lab.”
“Because of me?”
“Don’t sweat it, Peter Parker. I’d do it again for you.” You pecked him on the cheek. “Oh… shouldn’t do that since Liz asked you to homecoming. I’m pretty sure that violates some girl code rule. Catch you two at lunch.”
You ran off, giving both him and Ned one last wave before heading off to your class.
“You’re staring,” Ned said. “I know that look… Sarah? Really, bro?”
Peter shook his head. “What look?”
“The look you had reserved for Liz all of last year… and you’re not denying it.”
“It’s Sarah,” Peter said with a shrug.
“And what does that mean?”
“That you’re not wrong.”
Peter closed his locker door and he and Ned started to walk to class.
“Are you going to tell her? What about the dance and Liz? Are you—”
“I’m still going with Liz, she asked me. That’d be a douche move to bail so close to the dance.”
“Okay and Sarah… Peter, you’re going to tell her right? Holy crap, you’d be the boyfriend of America’s Darling.”
“Me and Sarah, not happening.”
“You’re chickening out?”
“I’m saving a friendship.”
“Chickening out.”
“Ned, I just got her kicked off the Avengers. I’m sure I’m the last person she’d want to date.”
You entered the robotics class late, handing the teacher a slip. You strolled over to the workstation with Ned and Peter. Dropping your backpack at your feet, you set down your tablet on the table and opened up the coding you had been working on.
“Sorry, I missed lunch. Tina threw up after Lorraine brought the class macarons her mom brought back from a business trip to Paris. Turns out she’s allergic to almonds, who knew?”
“Why does Sarah get to do whatever she wants?” one of the students asked.
“Because Sarah works in Tony Stark’s lab. If she can build an arc reactor, she can build whatever she wants including… what are you working on?”
“A Roomba.”
“A Roomba?”
“Wanted to see if I could do it from complete scratch.”
You finished the code you had and unplugged the Roomba from the cord. Setting it on the floor, you turned it on for a test run. The Roomba rolled around the room while you monitored the tracking and its patterns on the tablet. It returned, deftly hitting the leg of your stool. You leaned over to pick it up when you spotted a letter on it.
“Sarah,” you read out loud, having picked up the note. “Will you go to homecoming with me?”
Peter and Ned’s heads both shot up from their work to look at you.
“Chris Bongiorno,” you finished.
Your eyes met your friends. You looked over to Chris and said sorry, he nodded before you could even finish asking you to save him a dance. The same lie every boy before him came to accept, you might’ve been on a mission. It was stupid, you should’ve just accepted someone asking you since there was no point in waiting anymore. But you also rather go in a group with Ned and MJ instead of someone you barely knew— besides most of them were probably in it for the clout, whoever was the date to America’s Darling would definitely be all over the headlines.
✿✿✿
You weren’t expecting Steve outside of Peter’s apartment instead of Happy. You threw your backpack in the back and climbed into the passenger’s seat. The atmosphere in the car was nothing but awkward.
“Did you guys have dessert?”
“No, just dinner.”
“Let’s go out for some, just you and me. What do you want?”
“Cheesecake?”
Steve nodded and started the car. Despite being New York for a while now, you had yet to go to Brooklyn. Steve stopped at the little bakery and asked for a giant slice of cheesecake. You watched from the car window as he ordered, the paper bag that he took out of the car for some reason swinging stiffly at his side. He stepped out of the bakery and nodded his head for you to exit the car. Locking the door, Steve began to walk until you reached an old apartment complex.
“Bought the place back from the Historical Society a year ago. This is where Buck and I used to live, it’s a lot prettier now.”
Steve unlocked the door and you both walked through. He opened the window so you both could get onto the fire escape to sit. Steve opened the box of cheesecake and handed you the other fork. You both ate a few bites in silence.
“Sarah, you understand why I made the decision.”
You nodded.
“I know it feels like the end of the world but I promise you it’s not. This isn’t permanent but it's necessary.”
“I understand. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you or anyone else on the team. And I’m sorry for giving attitude.”
“A little attitude was expected, you’re a teenager. I think we both forget that sometimes and maybe right now you should be a normal child and I should be just your dad. Not your captain. Just for a little bit, Babydoll.”
You nodded in understanding as you ate the cheesecake off your fork. Steve smiled, the head bobbing was larger than before indicating you weren’t as upset as before.
“I got asked to the homecoming dance,” you offered up information about your day as an olive branch of sorts— to show Steve you could accept him being just your dad for a little while.
“Really? That’s great… you don’t seem too excited.”
“It’s about the twelfth boy not that special.”
“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”
“Because I may or may not have been lying and saying we had a mission the day of homecoming and I don’t know if I’ll even make it in order to reject them.”
“You told this lie to eleven other boys before this one and he still asked?”
“They keep thinking that if the mission gets cancelled and they ask at the right time, I can say yes.”
“I might be a long time removed from school dances but isn’t this the exact problem girls want? All the guys asking you.”
“But they’re not the boy I wanted to ask me.”
“You want a specific boy to ask you?”
“I’m not talking boys with my dad, anymore.”
Steve grabbed the box of cheesecake, keeping it out of your reach. You struggled to grab it and failed. Sitting back down, you gave Steve a side-eye and sighed. Steve watched you pick at your fingers. Your phone rang and you picked it up, relieved you suddenly had a way out.
“Sarah.”
“Hey, Peter Parker.”
“Put me on speaker and check the time.”
You did as he said. “I’m staring at 11:59.”
“It’s 11:59 and 49 seconds, 50, 51—” the call turned into a FaceTime and you accepted.
“What are you doing?”
He held up five fingers and started to put them down. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
“Thank you!”
“First one. Okay, I’m going to bed. I’ve got a math test first period. Oh wait, I learned this.”
The phone jostled around as Peter set it up against his wall so you could see him full body and he had both his hands free.
Who is Sarah Wilson-Rogers? A girl that’s really cool, really nice, wicked smart. Best Avenger. Peter Parker’s best friend. And I hope you have the best birthday with only happiness and smiles. You’re my favorite person ever.
“Did I get it all right?” Peter asked.
You laughed and nodded.
Yes. Thank you.
“I have something to teach you.”
You leaned the phone against Steve’s leg. He watched as you seemed super excited and he realized he had been demoted from dad to simply a phone stand for the next couple of minutes.
“My best friend is Peter Parker. He’s a dork but he’s my favorite person…” you looked up at Steve. “My second favorite person. P-E-T-E-R. Peter.”
It was the sign favorite followed by a ‘P’ for Peter. He was one of the few people to get a name sign from you— not even the whole team got one, depending on if you signed with them or not.
“That’s yours now, I’ve dubbed thee Peter Parker with that name sign.”
“I’ll treasure it forever.”
“Dork. This is why I said you’re a dork.”
“Your dork, okay, goodnight. I really should sleep before that test.”
“Goodnight.”
The phone cut off and you remembered Steve was there.
“Can’t believe the kid beat me to my own daughter’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Babydoll.”
He pulled the wrapped present from the bag and handed it to you. Steve had been working on the custom piece for a minute. You unwrapped it to see a Build-A-Bear bunny with a necklace around it. It was a gold necklace with your name on it.
“That’s not it, press the left hand.”
You pressed it and the little recording started to play with Steve’s voice.
“Hi Babydoll, it’s Dheaidí. I’m so proud of what you’ve become and how far you’ve gone. I know life hasn’t been the most fair to you but not once have you let it get you down or given up on your life. You’re my best girl and I love you, okay? One of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
You pressed it one more time to listen to the message.
“We found some recovered files from the base you and Bucky were at, some with… press the right one.”
“Hi, Babydoll. It’s mom. Oh, I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this. They might delete this once they’ve found out I recorded it but if you do, know that I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of what I know you’re going to become and how far you’ll go. We don’t have an ideal life but you can’t give up. You find your way out and fight. I love you, and I’ll love you forever.”
You looked at Steve and then back at the stuffed animal. You pressed the right paw two more times, just listening. Steve wiped the tears at your eyes. He gently took the bunny to show you one more thing. He had them place two more recordings in the torso of the bunny.
“We also found vital recordings… I know heartbeats help you fall asleep. These recordings are on a loop and won’t stop until you press them again. Right side is Elise’s, left side is mine.”
Steve pressed one and then the other. The heartbeats differed in pace, Steve’s being slightly faster. You pressed each button to listen to them individually. You launched yourself at your dad for a hug. Steve patted your back.
“Thank you, Dheaidí. For real.”
“Anything for you. I should get you back before it gets any later on a school night.”
You two split the last bite of cheesecake and then headed back to the car. Steve glanced over ever so often during the car ride to see you staring at the stuffed animal before pressing either his or your mother’s message. He didn’t wake you as you pulled into the compound. Steve swung your backpack over his shoulder and lifted you out of the car, hearing the heartbeat of both his and Elise’s recordings playing.
He looked at your pillow, spotting the shine of satin, and set you down. You still didn’t stir, only snuggling more into the stuffed animal so Steve grabbed the large duvet at the end of your bed and placed it over you. Plugging your phone in, he set the alarm for slightly earlier than your usual wake-up time knowing you’d kill him if you didn’t wake up early enough to shower and fix your hair. Steve muttered a goodnight to you, kissing the top of your forehead, before leaving your room and turning off the lights.
✿✿✿
“You look so pretty,” Steve cooed over the video call.
You were standing in the living room in your dress for the homecoming dance, Pepper holding the phone so you could be seen full body. You shifted awkwardly in the heels— you only felt comfortable walking in them when the weight was all on your toes like a pointe shoe, but that would look a bit ridiculous the whole night. Walking back into your room, you switched the high stilettos you bought for the backup wedges. You came back out and Steve couldn’t stop gushing to the amusement of Sam and Bucky.
“Dheaidí! Dheaidí, I’m going to be late getting MJ. Dad, Uncle Jamie, stop him.”
Sam and Bucky laughed. Bucky finally got Steve to stop while Sam took over the call.
“One more time for us, how’s the evening going to go?”
“I’m going downstairs where Happy’s waiting, we’re gonna pick up Ned and MJ and then go to the dance. Happy won’t be able to pick us up till the end of the dance because of moving so we can’t leave unless we get hungry then we can go to the diner across from school but nowhere else… oh, and no underage drinking, drugs, or debauchery of the sorts. Yes?”
“Yep, that’s everything. Sorry we can’t drop you off but we should be back by early morning.”
You nodded in understanding. Missions couldn’t be helped and if it was truly important to you then they would find a way out completely but sometimes, they could only buy themselves a couple hours. You gave the three of them a wave before Pepper hung up and the phone back to you so you could go into the car with Happy. MJ and Ned were picked up and you made it to the dance a little late on purpose so the dance would already be well on its way when you arrived. You spotted Liz as she walked in and bounded over to her.
“You look so nice,” you complimented with a big smile.
“Thanks, you look good too.” She looked behind her. “My dad’s grilling Peter.”
“Dad talk? That’s going to take a while, come dance with us.”
Liz let you lead her toward your group. The music picked up and you just had fun dancing and messing around. You went with MJ to go get some punch, leaving Ned and Liz for a moment. As MJ grabbed a cup, you noticed Peter finally enter the dance looking visibly shaken. He said something to her and started to walk out of the other doors, practically running when he cleared the crowd of students. MJ quirked an eyebrow and made a move when you placed your cup in her hand.
“I’ll get him, go back to dancing.”
You left, following him down the hallway.
“Peter!” you yelled as he lifted up a set of lockers where his old suit was hidden under.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Without me?” You looked at the suit in his hand.
“I got you benched. I’m not hurting you again, stay and enjoy the dance.”
“You know I can’t not help.”
“The guy with the wings is Liz’s dad.”
“What?!”
“Call Happy or Mr. Stark or anyone. I’ve got to go. And get Ned, he’s kind of been my guy in the chair.”
“Okay. Go get your guy, Peter Parker.”
“Thank you.” He looked at you for a moment before pecking your cheek.
“Hey!” you called out when he got a little farther.
“This makes it number three.”
Peter smiled. “I owe you for a lot more than that.”
You tried not to look suspicious as you found Ned away from Liz and MJ. You grabbed him by the arm and the two of you snuck away to the school’s computer lab. Ned turned on the computer to get systems online for communication with Peter while you pulled out your phone. Happy didn’t answer on the first ring, not that you expected him to. So you began going through the rolodex of team members, calling anyone you could but everyone was on a mission and not answering. Ned finally got online with what he needed and called Peter.
“Go for Ned.”
“Ned, Ned. I need you to track my phone for me.”
“Yeah, but where is it… got it anyway, he just passed a GameStop on Jackson Avenue.”
“Where are the headlights on this thing? I’m in Flash’s car.”
“Okay, I’ll pull up the specs.”
“Alright you’re on speakerphone.”
“Guy in the chair,” Ned said as he spun to the computer across from the one he already had up. “You stole Flash’s car? Awesome.”
“Yeah but I’ve never driven before! Only with May in parking lots. Has Sarah gotten to Happy yet?”
“He’s not picking up and everyone else is gone on a…”
“Alright, takeoff in nine minutes.” You heard Happy’s voice through the phone.
“Happy? Happy, look Peter’s found—”
“Not this game, look you’re benched. Go back to the dance, Sarah. I’ll pick you up when it’s over.”
“No, no Happy wait… dammit!” You looked at your phone in disbelief. No one had ever hung up on you before.
“Peter, he stopped at an old industrial factory in Brooklyn,” Ned read the GPS tracking.
“Happy hung up. He’s more concerned with clearing out Avengers Tower, it’s Moving Day.”
“Moving… he’s gonna rob the plane! Keep trying to get through to Happy.”
Happy didn’t pick up again when you redialed. But your phone lit up with Bucky’s face on the screen. You had called him, Steve, and Sam about fifteen times each.
“Sarah! Are you okay, why did ca—”
“Uncle Jamie, you have to promise not to get mad and listen. I need you to listen.”
“Alright.”
“The guy with the wings is the dad of Peter’s date, Toomes, and they’re in trouble. Happy’s not picking up.”
“Sarah, where’s Peter right now? Is he okay?”
“Toomes is going to rob the plane for moving day, Ned where’s he now… Coney Island. We need to tell Uncle To—”
The lights turned on and you were face to face with the Spanish teacher. You quickly hung up the phone, sending one last text to Bucky in hopes that he could get through to Tony or Happy since no one seemed to be listening to you.
“What are you two doing in here?”
“I’m looking at porn,” Ned panicked.
The teacher raised an eyebrow and looked over at you. You raised your hands in surrender.
“America’s Darling, I don’t even know what that is. I needed to call my dad.”
“The hallway wasn’t good enough?”
“It’s about a classified mission, ma’am.”
“And Mr. Leeds could overhear it.”
“Well, you heard him, he was too busy watching porn.”
“The dance, both of you. Now.”
“Yes ma’am.”
You and Ned looked at each other and left the computer lab, knowing there was nothing you could do with her there. MJ questioned when you came back. Whether she believed you or not, MJ accepted the lie about you calling Steve and Sam on their mission. You couldn’t enjoy the rest of the dance as you worried about Peter, no longer having communication.
Liz had left some time while you and Ned had been in the computer room. You tapped your foot to the beat more in nervous anticipation rather than enjoyance. You heard MJ scoff and turned to see what she was looking at. Peter was standing at the glass, suit for the dance on him and looking nice— he thought he should clean up before coming back to the dance. You forced MJ to put her hand down as she was flipping Peter off. Peter laughed as he entered, watching the scene unfold. You ran over and hugged him, almost knocking him back. MJ and Ned came up.
“You know, my dad gave me cash for the diner. You guys want to use it to get a taxi back to the compound instead? We can get take out.”
The other three kids nodded and you guys signed out of the dance and took a taxi home. You texted Happy, to be met with a string of texts apologizing for not listening. You called him to tell him not to worry as you paid the taxi driver and went back inside.
Sam, Steve, and Bucky came back to the sound of laughter in their apartment. Sam wasn’t even surprised, checking his phone and seeing it read one am, that you guys were still up and talking like it wasn’t late.
“Why would you teach them to sign I’m a dumbass?” They heard Peter’s voice in protest.
“Because only a dumbass could break my Roomba!”
“All I did was turn it on.”
“It took one look at you and went nope,” MJ said.
The three men shook their heads as they walked towards your room. Steve knocked on the door to your bathroom, even though it was open, and the four of you looked up. You guys were still in your fancy outfits, each person with an individual blanket and the pillows had been taken from the couch. You set down your rice bowl in your lap to wave at them.
“You know we have a couch for a reason?” Steve asked.
The four of you just laughed in his face causing Steve to look at the other two men in confusion. They shrugged, not knowing either. Handing the bowl to Peter, you wrapped your blanket around you and stepped out the tub.
“Can they sleep over? Please?”
“In the tub?”
“Haha, no, the living room. Or the bed.”
“Sure. Peter, Sarah, I need to talk to you both.”
You and Peter followed Steve out of the bathroom and into his room.
“I’m not here to yell at either of you,” Steve said when he saw the looks on your faces. “I’m checking that you’re okay?”
You both nodded.
“We’re sorry,” Peter started.
“No, you did the right thing. You two tried to contact us first. I can’t act like I wish you didn’t get involved at all but I understand.”
“Thank you, Dheaidí.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wilson-Rogers.”
“Alright, you two go enjoy your friends.”
You coughed the word traitor as Peter looked at you with an unamused face. He sat back on the couch, this time with a blanket, and you two had no problem laying back down in front of Steve— not reading the room at all. Sam swooped in and pulled him away for the run before he could say anything. When they came back, the four of you were up and looking a little more alive than previously. Ned and MJ were dropped off after breakfast while Peter came back to the compound with you guys. The rest of the team watched from the sidelines as the two of you did light training in the gym.
It kept going like that until there were only two weeks of school left. You and Peter hadn’t tried to go after any villains since homecoming. You would train in the gym in the morning and on the mornings he stopped by Peter would join. The two of you did little things in the lab but didn’t once pester Tony if he said something was too classified for you guys to know. Tony smiled at the series of pictures Pepper showed him that she secretly took of the three of you— it was you and Peter sitting on top of your workstation while Tony sat at the bench playing a game of three way chess. Most of the pictures were of three of you staring intently at the board but Tony’s two favorites was one of him and Peter hi-fiving while you had a shocked expression on your face realizing they had been in alliance with you. The other was you three laughing over a dumb joke you told.
“They’re taking it surprisingly well,” Nat said as they watched from the common room window.
You and Peter chose to run around the compound early in the morning before school. Pietro had been challenging you both for a little while, claiming he was running as slow as he possibly could, but soon had gone back inside with the others. Everyone agreed with Nat’s observation. Sam took a sip of his coffee.
“You know I asked her the other day about being off probation. She said whenever we say she can come back that she’s ready, but she didn’t push it.”
They watched you and Peter stop running and look around the flat area. The two of you spotted a tree and nodded running towards it, tapping the trunk and then running back. You shoved Peter to throw him off balance and when he caught back up, he did the same to you. You guys had hands on your knees and were breathing a little heavy. You both jumped as a bolt of lightning landed near the two of you, which was strange because it was a clear day. Thor and Bruce appeared from the bolt.
“Uncle Bruce! Uncle Thor!” You cheered excitedly while running up to hug the two of them.
“Our strongest Avenger,” Thor said jovially as he lifted you up. Thor thought it was funny calling you that, anyone else tried to take the title from him and he would stare daggers until they took it back.
“Are you guys done with your mission?”
Thor shook his head. “We’re taking a small break but I think Ragnarok is near, I can feel it. Banner and I will need to leave again soon… Almost forgot, Happy late Birthday! I have a present for you… I hope.”
You looked around him, not seeing any gift or anywhere that Thor could hold. Thor’s last present from when you were a lot younger was not appreciated by Steve— it was Christmas and Thor thought it was appropriate to gift you with an Asgardian wolf which got sent back the next morning. Thor didn’t realize the type of pet wasn’t the problem and got confused when one of the few pegasus they had left on Asgard also got sent back— but the pegasus was still yours, recognizing you the few times Thor’s taken you to Asgard.
“Hand,” Thor said.
You held out your hands like he said.
“Close your eyes.”
You did as he said and were confused when after a few seconds he started laughing. Thor turned you around to face the window while the rest of the team inside looked in shock. You opened your eyes to see Mjolnir in your hands— and you still standing.
“Awesome!”
“Go up to the roof.”
The rest of the team watched as you ran inside and took the elevator. They were surprised that the doors didn’t ding on the common room floor but kept going. Steve, Sam, and Bucky— mainly Steve— didn’t like wherever this was headed. The team’s attention was drawn back to the window as they heard your shouts of delight. Steve screamed as he saw you racing through the air being pulled at an insane speed around the compound, slowly getting closer to the ground with each pass around the large building. You aggressively jerked as Thor caught you and set you down. You stumbled around dizzy before collapsing onto the grass. Peter did a handstand and then let himself tilt a little too far so he would fall flat on his back against the soft grass next to you and you both busted out in a fit of laughter. Thor and Bruce came inside to get food and start their small break— Steve yelling at Thor while the Asgardian god just laughed in entertainment.
“Would you like a turn?” Thor offered the hammer to Steve.
“No! That’s not what I’m mad abou—”
Thor walked off to go to his room. The team turned back to the window and looked on as you and Peter laid on the ground, smiling and talking about something they couldn’t hear, until the car approached with Happy driving.
“They’re good kids,” Clint said as they watched you two grab your backpacks and get in the car.
“Yeah, school year’s almost over. Maybe we should see how summer goes for them off-bench,” Steve suggested before picking up his ringing cell phone.
“Dheaidí? I forgot to tell you, decathlon has one more practice and we’re gonna be late coming back home, I got MJ to agree to go painting with us.”
“How late?”
“Hmm, 5? Is that okay?”
“Just fine, Babydoll.” Steve hung up the phone. “Tony is five too late for your press conference?”
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paired with: Steve Rogers
named attributes: small & foul-mouthed. very experienced. dominant.
short synopsis: The front desk receptionist at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s D.C. headquarters. Her parents worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. and whenever she would come in she would see the picture of Steve that Peggy had hanging in her office. She thought he was lame until she met him in person when he flirted with her at the front desk.
tropes: first fuck (for Steve), size difference, tiny top & big bottom, girl dom/boy sub, secret relationship, black cat girlfriend X golden retriever boyfriend
so I know you already said no to writing something for Steve, but… how do you thing Steve & Sam would be in a relationship? Do they also bring groupies around? Is Steve bisexual? 👀 because that kiss along with the “like the old times” gave me that vibe
Oh, anon, you got me thinking very hard.
They do bring groupies around, but it's not as common as everyone would think.
I gotta admit that I got a huge inspiration for writing this threesome from Trey and Brian from Sinners on Tour by Olivia Cunning (Kylie Scott and her are the queens of writing rock bands imo) and while Trey is openly bisexual and in love with Brian for almost the whole series, I wouldn’t say it’s the same case with rockstar!Steve. I think they both are in a comfortable place where they can kiss — like I said in another ask they go way back and love each other like brothers. (Also they know kissing each other turn on the ladies🙂↕️) but everything is open to your interpretation.
Steve is the good, sweet guy in the band.
❤️He’s the kind of boyfriend who would dedicate songs to you while he’s on stage. He would go “this one’s for my girl” at the mic before playing one of the love songs he wrote for you.
❤️ He’s the kind of boyfriend who would keep a picture of you in his wallet. He’d always see it while you’re away and would also take lots of pictures of the both of you together in every opportunity he has.
❤️ Once you go back home he would write small hand-written notes on your suitcase and call you every single night right before going on stage and right after while he comes back from his high, always telling you how much he misses you between his arms in his bunk.
❤️ He’s the kind of guy who would also take you to every after party and show you off with praise words.
🌶️ “Look at you taking everything I give you. So beautiful like this.” “That’s my good girl, I got you.” Would whisper praise in your ear while making you come for the third time.
🤍 lots of cuddling and soft kisses in your face until you both fall asleep.
Sam on the other hand is very emotionally stable. Seems to be the kind of guy who would have a long-term relationship back home. He was the voice of the reason in SINSA.
💙He’s the kind of boyfriend who pulls you onto his lap during group hangouts and whispers dirty jokes in your ear to make you blush.
💙 Sends you memes throughout the day with "this is us" and it's always ridiculously accurate.
💙 He would take the most unflattering candid photos of you and threatens to make them his lockscreen.
💙 He’s the life of the party but makes sure you know you're the only one he's going home with. Would smack your ass playfully in every chance he gets.
🌶️In bed it’s a completely different story. "Oh, you think you're in charge? That's cute. Try again." "Keep talking back. See what happens." "Such a good girl when you want to be. Now let me remind you what happens when you're not."
🤍 if he was rough: kisses every mark, every bruise, every red spot with apology. Later he orders takeout, puts on your favorite show, keeps you tucked into his side.
Summary: Never in their life have Maximoff Siblings especially Y/N Maximoff thought her world would come crashing down destroying the sibling's childhood. Being Hydra's prized pupil Soon they meet their enemy The Avengers and no others face their leader, Captain America. Would meeting them change her journey or be the same?
Well wanted to bring back my wattpad book here. It's also available on wattpad
Please be feel to reblog it... And let me know how you guys feel
Main Blog || Dark Fic Blog || Masterlist ||
Chapter 1: ⊱𝕄𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕩𝕚𝕞𝕠𝕗𝕗⊰
Baron Wolfgang von Strucker was talking to an underground HYDRA scientist at an underground HYDRA lab.
"It's over. Fury has released everything to the public." Dr. List says as they walk along the lab
"Everything he knows about."
"Herr Strucker, if they get word of our work here if they find out we serve HYDRA..."
"HYDRA, SHIELD, two sides of a coin that's no longer currency." They walk over to the corner of the lab where Loki's scepter was kept ."What we have is worth more than any of them ever knew. We've only scratched the surface and already... " They start walking out of the lab "There are other facilities doing HYDRA's good work around the world. We'll feed them to Captain America and his colorful friends. Keep them off our scent."
"What about the volunteers?
"The dead will be buried so deep their own ghosts won't be able to find them, "Strucker told him.
"And the survivors?"
"The Siblings"
We see the siblings, Y/N, Pietro, and Wanda Maximoff, placed in each room
Room 1
Subject Name: Y/N Maximoff
Date of Birth: 7- May 1987
Y/N was in deep meditation her eyebrows furrowing. She was concentrating on something trying something new as she used to do daily.
Room 2
Subject Name: Pietro Maximoff
Date of Birth:23-March 1989
He was running over the room quickly throwing a few things not controlling his powers.
Room No 3
Subject Name: Wanda Maximoff
Date of Birth:23-March-1989
She was holding two cubes trying to smash each other. Having deep concentration on it
"Sooner or later they will meet them. It's not a world of spies anymore, not even a world of heroes. This is the age of miracles, doctor. There's nothing more horrifying than a miracle.
Pietro gets control of his power. After quite a few minutes. Whereas Wanda smashed the blocks smiling darkly at them. At last, Y/N who was in deep concentration was levitating from the floor her eyes shot open her eyes color changed to a slight shade of yellow smirking at it as she got control of her new power.
Additional tags: My entry for the @marvelrarepairs Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Card MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.
@saiyanprincessswanie
My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my English writing skills. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.
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The rain fell with an almost hypnotic steadiness, pounding the asphalt and blurring the city lights into reflections.
Bucky Barnes had been following a trail for hours that just didn’t quite add up. The information he’d received was clear on paper—too clear, which in itself was suspicious. A target moving between specific points in the city, avoiding cameras, and using routes that only someone with training would know.
The problem was that this pattern… seemed familiar to him.
All too familiar.
He moved through alleys and under low rooftops, taking elevated routes when he could, staying off street level long enough to leave no direct trail. The target finally appeared on the other side of a rooftop.
A slender figure.
Precise movements.
Hair pulled back.
Balanced posture.
And in that instant, Bucky didn’t think.
He acted.
He leaped the distance between buildings with the ease of someone who didn’t need to weigh the risk, landing silently behind the figure. His metal hand moved first—firm, confident—grabbing the wrist before the figure could fully react.
But the reaction was immediate.
Quick.
Too quick for someone caught off guard.
The body in front of him spun fluidly, using the grip to redirect him—a move Bucky knew, had seen, and had faced before.
A blow aimed at his side that he blocked almost instinctively.
An attempt to break free that he countered.
And in the midst of that brief but intense exchange… something clicked.
The figure managed to break free, taking two steps back, assuming a defensive stance. The rain was falling on both of them now, making every movement glisten in the city’s dim light.
Bucky didn’t attack right away.
Something inside him held him back.
He was analyzing the situation.
The woman in front of him lifted her chin slightly, sizing him up with the same intensity.
“It took you too long,” she said.
Her voice was clear.
Familiar.
Bucky lowered his guard just a little.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he replied.
Natasha Romanoff didn’t smile.
“That’s because I’m not supposed to be here.”
Silence settled between them, heavy with understanding.
But not entirely resolved.
Bucky took a step forward, more slowly now.
“They were looking for you,” he said. “With a description that matched you.”
Natasha crossed her arms, ignoring the rain.
“Because they wanted it to match me.”
That changed everything.
Bucky frowned slightly.
“A decoy.”
Natasha nodded slightly.
“Or something better. Someone is using patterns similar to mine—movements, routes, even timings.”
Bucky processed that.
Quickly.
“To draw attention.”
“To redirect it,” she corrected.
Their eyes met again.
“I thought it was you,” Bucky admitted.
Natasha tilted her head.
“That was exactly what they wanted.”
Bucky looked toward the edge of the building, as if he could see beyond what was visible.
“Do you know who it is?”
Natasha shook her head.
“Not yet. But I know it’s someone who knows us well enough to replicate what’s necessary without making obvious mistakes.”
Bucky didn’t answer right away.
“So it’s not just a distraction,” he said finally.
Natasha shook her head.
“No. It’s a message.”
Silence fell again.
Bucky took another step forward, closing the distance—not as a threat, but as a gesture of connection.
“What kind of message?”
Natasha held his gaze.
“That someone wants us to meet… in the wrong place.”
Bucky looked around.
The rooftop.
The city.
The night.
“And this place?”
Natasha turned slightly, surveying their surroundings.
“It might be one of many. Or…” she paused briefly, “the right one for the wrong reasons.”
N/A: Esta es mi entrada al Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Carta MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, versión en inglés.
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La lluvia caía con una constancia casi hipnótica, golpeando el asfalto y difuminando las luces de la ciudad en reflejos.
Bucky Barnes llevaba horas siguiendo un rastro que no terminaba de encajar. La información que había recibido era clara en papel, demasiado clara, lo que ya de por sí era sospechoso. Un objetivo moviéndose entre puntos específicos de la ciudad, evitando cámaras, usando rutas que solo alguien con entrenamiento conocería.
El problema era que ese patrón… le resultaba familiar.
Demasiado.
Se movía entre callejones y techos bajos, utilizando rutas elevadas cuando podía, evitando el nivel de la calle lo suficiente como para no dejar huellas directas. El objetivo apareció finalmente al otro lado de una azotea.
Figura delgada.
Movimiento preciso.
Cabello recogido.
Postura equilibrada.
Y en ese instante, Bucky no pensó.
Actuó.
Saltó la distancia entre edificios con la facilidad de alguien que no necesitaba medir el riesgo, aterrizando sin ruido detrás de la figura. Su mano metálica se movió primero, firme, segura, atrapando la muñeca antes de que pudiera reaccionar completamente.
Pero la reacción fue inmediata.
Rápida.
Demasiado rápida para alguien sorprendido.
El cuerpo frente a él giró con fluidez, aprovechando el agarre para redirigirlo, un movimiento que Bucky conocía, que había visto, que había enfrentado.
Un golpe dirigido a su costado que bloqueó casi por instinto.
Un intento de liberarse que él contrarrestó.
Y en medio de ese intercambio breve pero intenso… algo encajó.
La figura logró soltarse, retrocediendo dos pasos, colocándose en guardia. La lluvia caía sobre ambos ahora, haciendo que cada movimiento brillara bajo la luz tenue de la ciudad.
Bucky no atacó de inmediato.
Algo en él se detuvo.
Analizando.
La mujer frente a él levantó ligeramente el mentón, evaluándolo con la misma intensidad.
—Te tomó demasiado tiempo —dijo ella.
La voz fue clara.
Familiar.
Bucky bajó apenas la guardia.
—No esperaba encontrarte aquí —respondió.
Natasha Romanoff no sonrió.
—Eso es porque no se supone que estuviera aquí.
El silencio se instaló entre ellos, cargado de entendimiento.
Pero no completamente resuelto.
Bucky dio un paso al frente, más despacio ahora.
—Te estaban buscando —dijo—. Con una descripción que encajaba contigo.
Natasha cruzó los brazos, ignorando la lluvia.
—Porque querían que encajara conmigo.
Eso cambió todo.
Bucky frunció ligeramente el ceño.
—Señuelo.
Natasha asintió apenas.
—O algo mejor. Alguien está usando patrones similares a los míos. Movimientos, rutas, incluso tiempos.
Bucky procesó eso.
Rápido.
—Para atraer atención.
—Para redirigirla —corrigió ella.
Sus miradas se cruzaron de nuevo.
—Pensé que eras tú —admitió Bucky.
Natasha inclinó la cabeza.
—Eso era exactamente lo que querían.
Bucky miró hacia el borde del edificio, como si pudiera ver más allá de lo visible.
—¿Sabes quién?
Natasha negó.
—No aún. Pero sé que es alguien que nos conoce lo suficiente como para replicar lo necesario sin cometer errores evidentes.
Bucky no respondió de inmediato.
—Entonces no es solo una distracción —dijo finalmente.
Natasha negó.
—No. Es un mensaje.
El silencio volvió.
Bucky dio otro paso, acortando la distancia, no como amenaza, sino como alineación.
—¿Cuál?
Natasha sostuvo su mirada.
—Que alguien quiere que nos encontremos… en el lugar equivocado.
Bucky miró alrededor.
La azotea.
La ciudad.
La noche.
—¿Y este lugar?
Natasha dio un pequeño giro, observando el entorno.
—Puede que sea uno de muchos. O… —hizo una pausa leve—, el correcto por las razones equivocadas.
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Additional tags: My entry for the @marvelrarepairs Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Card MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.
@saiyanprincessswanie
My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my English writing skills. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.
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It was, at best, a spot where neither had an immediate advantage and where both knew exactly what the other was capable of. An abandoned building on the outskirts, with weathered concrete and broken windows.
Steve Rogers arrived first. He stopped in the center of the room, the light filtering in irregular patterns across the dusty floor. His eyes scanned every entrance, every high point, and every shadow that might conceal something. There was no visible equipment or backup nearby, but that didn’t mean he was alone.
He never was.
The sound of footsteps was anything but stealthy.
Brock Rumlow had never been one to hide his presence when it didn’t suit him.
He entered unhurriedly; his relaxed posture was a well-rehearsed lie.
He stopped a few meters away.
Close enough to talk.
Far enough to react.
“I never thought you’d be the one to suggest this,” Brock said.
Steve didn’t respond right away.
He looked at him.
“Circumstances change,” he replied finally.
Brock let out a low laugh.
“Not enough for you to forget who I am.”
Steve held his gaze.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
The silence that followed was tense. Brock tilted his head slightly, sizing him up.
“Then explain to me why you’re here instead of chasing after me.”
Steve took a step forward.
“Because there’s something worse than you.”
The answer wasn’t dramatic.
It was direct.
Brock didn’t react with surprise.
“That sounds like an excuse,” he said. “Or like a problem you want me to take on.”
Steve shook his head slightly.
“It’s a problem that already belongs to everyone.”
Brock studied him for a few more seconds.
Looking for cracks.
Doubts.
Lies.
“Speak,” he ordered.
Steve took a deep breath, as if every word carried weight.
“A group is using technology recovered from old facilities. They’re not just replicating it—they’re improving it. They don’t follow the same rules you used to follow.”
“I didn’t follow rules,” he replied. Steve ignored him.
“They’re expanding fast. Too fast. And they’re not interested in negotiating.”
Brock crossed his arms, shifting his weight slightly onto one leg.
“And you want me to help you stop them?”
Steve held his gaze without hesitation.
“I want information.”
Brock smiled. That smile that never meant anything good.
“Sure. It always starts like this.”
He walked around a bit, without getting too close, as if he were circling the conversation rather than facing it head-on.
“You show up, say there’s something worse, that it’s urgent, that it’s dangerous… and then you expect me to just cooperate.”
He stopped in front of him again.
Closer now.
“What’s in it for me?”
The question was inevitable.
Steve had already anticipated it.
“Access,” he replied.
Brock raised an eyebrow.
“Go on.”
“To information you don’t have. To movements you haven’t seen. To the full picture.”
Brock stared at him.
“That’s not enough.”
Steve didn’t move.
“You also stand to gain by keeping this from getting out of hand.”
Brock let out a dry laugh.
“That sounds more like something that’s in your best interest.”
Steve took another step forward.
“If this escalates, it won’t matter which side you’re on.”
That made Brock’s smile fade. Brock ran a hand over his chin, thoughtfully.
“And what happens when this is over?”
Steve didn’t hesitate.
“We’ll still be who we are.”
Brock held his gaze.
“At least you’re not lying,” he murmured.
He stepped back, as if he needed space to think.
Then another.
As if he needed space to think.
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
Steve nodded.
“Yes.”
“It means you’re willing to get your hands dirty,” Brock continued. “To work with someone like me.”
Steve didn’t look away.
“It means I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Brock smiled again.
“There you go,” he said. “I knew you’d get there eventually.”
Steve didn’t respond.
Because there was nothing more to add.
Brock paused, looking out one of the broken windows, the outside barely visible.
“There’s a base,” he said finally. “It’s not on any official map. They operate from there.”
Steve didn’t interrupt.
“It’s not big,” Brock continued, “but it’s well protected. You’re not going to get in with brute force alone.”
Steve nodded.
“Location.”
Brock slowly turned his head toward him.
“Not yet.”
The refusal wasn’t aggressive.
It was strategic.
“First I want to see how serious you are about this.”
Steve frowned slightly.
“I’m already here.”
Brock shook his head.
“That’s not enough. I want a real exchange.”
Steve pressed him.
“What do you want?”
Brock watched him in silence for a few seconds.
“I want you to trust me enough to act without knowing everything.”
That… was dangerous.
Steve knew it.
Steve exhaled slowly.
“Once,” he said. “I’ll do it once.”
Brock smiled. Satisfied.
“That’s a deal.”
When Brock turned to leave, Steve didn’t stop him.
N/A: Esta es mi entrada al Marvel Rare Pairs Round 5. Carta MRP-127.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, versión en inglés.
Si te gustó, por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.
No doy permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o en otro idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) ni para el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), que hice exclusivamente para mis fics. Por favor, respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que crean separadores de texto para que cualquiera pueda usarlos; los míos no son públicos. Por favor, busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho, ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma distinta y no es de alguna de mis cuentas, por favor, avísame. Los reblogs y los comentarios están bien.
DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), excepto los personajes originales y la historia.
Anótate en mi taglist aquí.
Otros lugares donde publico: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.
Era, en el mejor de los casos, un punto donde ninguno tenía ventaja inmediata y donde ambos sabían exactamente lo que el otro era capaz de hacer. Un edificio abandonado en las afueras, con concreto desgastado y ventanas rotas.
Steve Rogers llegó primero. Se detuvo en el centro del lugar, la luz filtrándose en líneas irregulares sobre el suelo polvoriento. Sus ojos recorrieron cada entrada, cada punto elevado, cada sombra que pudiera esconder algo. No había equipo visible ni respaldo cercano, pero eso no significaba que estuviera solo.
Nunca lo estaba.
El sonido de pasos no fue sigiloso.
Brock Rumlow nunca había sido de esconder su presencia cuando no le convenía.
Entró sin prisa; su postura relajada era una mentira bien entrenada.
Se detuvo a unos metros de distancia.
Lo suficientemente cerca para hablar.
Lo suficientemente lejos para reaccionar.
—Nunca pensé que ibas a ser tú el que propusiera esto —dijo Brock.
Steve no respondió de inmediato.
Lo observó.
—Las circunstancias cambian —contestó finalmente.
Brock soltó una risa baja.
—No tanto como para que olvides quién soy.
Steve sostuvo su mirada.
—No lo he olvidado.
El silencio que siguió fue tenso. Brock inclinó ligeramente la cabeza, evaluándolo.
—Entonces explícame por qué estás aquí en lugar de estar persiguiéndome.
Steve dio un paso al frente.
—Porque hay algo peor que tú.
La respuesta no fue dramática.
Fue directa.
Brock no reaccionó con sorpresa.
—Eso suena como una excusa —dijo—. O como un problema que quieres que sea mío.
Steve negó apenas.
—Es un problema que ya es de todos.
Brock lo estudió unos segundos más.
Buscando grietas.
Dudas.
Mentiras.
—Habla —ordenó.
Steve respiró hondo, como si cada palabra tuviera peso.
—Un grupo está utilizando tecnología recuperada de instalaciones antiguas. No solo la están replicando, la están mejorando. No siguen las mismas reglas que tú seguías.
—Yo no seguía reglas —respondió. Steve lo ignoró.
—Están expandiéndose rápido. Demasiado. Y no están interesados en negociar.
Brock cruzó los brazos, apoyando su peso ligeramente en una pierna.
—¿Y quieres que te ayude a detenerlos?
Steve sostuvo su mirada sin titubear.
—Quiero información.
Brock sonrió. Esa sonrisa que nunca significaba algo bueno.
—Claro. Siempre empieza así.
Caminó un poco alrededor, sin acercarse demasiado, como si estuviera rodeando la conversación en lugar de enfrentarse a ella directamente.
—Tú vienes, dices que hay algo peor, que es urgente, que es peligroso… y luego esperas que yo simplemente coopere.
Se detuvo frente a él de nuevo.
Más cerca ahora.
—¿Qué gano?
La pregunta era inevitable.
Steve ya la había anticipado.
—Acceso —respondió.
Brock arqueó una ceja.
—Sigue.
—A información que no tienes. A movimientos que no has visto. A un panorama completo.
Brock lo miró fijamente.
—Eso no es suficiente.
Steve no se movió.
—También ganas que esto no se salga de control.
Brock soltó una risa seca.
—Eso suena más a algo que te conviene a ti.
Steve dio otro paso.
—Si esto escala, no va a importar en qué lado estés.
Eso hizo que Brock dejara de sonreír. Brock pasó una mano por su barbilla, pensativo.
—¿Y qué pasa cuando esto termine?
Steve no dudó.
—Seguiremos siendo lo que somos.
Brock lo sostuvo con la mirada.
—Al menos no mientes —murmuró.
Se alejó un paso.
Luego otro.
Como si necesitara espacio para pensar.
—Sabes lo que esto significa, ¿no?
Steve asintió.
—Sí.
—Significa que estás dispuesto a ensuciarte las manos —continuó Brock—. A trabajar con alguien como yo.
Steve no apartó la mirada.
—Significa que estoy dispuesto a hacer lo necesario.
Brock sonrió de nuevo.
—Ahí está —dijo—. Sabía que en algún punto ibas a llegar ahí.
Steve no respondió.
Porque no había nada que agregar.
Brock se detuvo, mirando hacia una de las ventanas rotas, el exterior apenas visible.
—Hay una base —dijo finalmente—. No está en ningún mapa oficial. Se mueven desde ahí.
Steve no interrumpió.
—No es grande —continuó Brock—, pero está bien protegida. No vas a entrar solo con fuerza bruta.
Steve asintió.
—Ubicación.
Brock giró la cabeza lentamente hacia él.
—Todavía no.
El rechazo no fue agresivo.
Fue estratégico.
—Primero quiero ver qué tan en serio vas con esto.
Steve frunció apenas el ceño.
—Ya estoy aquí.
Brock negó.
—Eso no es suficiente. Quiero un intercambio real.
Steve lo sostuvo.
—¿Qué quieres?
Brock lo observó en silencio unos segundos.
—Quiero que confíes en mí lo suficiente como para actuar sin saber todo.
Eso… era peligroso.
Steve lo sabía.
Steve exhaló despacio.
—Una vez —dijo—. Lo hago una vez.
Brock sonrió. Satisfecho.
—Eso es un trato.
Cuando Brock se dio la vuelta para irse, Steve no lo detuvo.
