#avengers1shots

Steve Rogers x Reader

It was a quiet day in the shop the first day you met him. You hadn’t been working there long, but you already had a way of identifying customers from the moment they walked in the door. It was one of the reasons you loved flowers, they drive human connection and emotion in such powerful ways. The excited-nervousness of a first date bouquet or corsage, the confident anniversary arrangement, the just-because, the list goes on. And as soon as the door chimes and you see him for the first time, you know why he’s there. There’s conflict on his face, grief weighing down his shoulders as he slowly approaches the desk. You offer a kind smile as a means of consolement as he takes a pause, gathering his thoughts before clearing his throat and speaking. 

“Could I get a dozen- two dozen roses please?” 

“Would you like the thorns cut?” You ask as you begin carefully collecting the flowers. 

“Uh, no you can leave them on.” He instructs, a hint of a smile passing over his face for a moment as you quickly put together the shop’s most common arrangement and proceed to payment. 

As you count out his change you catch him staring down at something out of view, clearly not present. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You speak up gently, holding the bouquet out in one hand and the change in the other, pulling the man back to reality.

“Thank you.” He responds solemnly, dropping the money in your tip jar before carefully taking the flowers and exiting the shop. 

                                                            ~⍟~

Exactly one week later he comes in again, and it catches you by surprise. You don’t manage to hide the expression well as he reacts to it a beat after walking through the door. 

“The flowers wilted.” He clarifies and your heart breaks a little for him as you reach for the roses. 

“How many?” 

                                                            ~⍟~

He comes every Sunday that month for a rose bouquet. You don’t make small talk, it doesn’t feel right to make light of his experience and he doesn’t offer conversation. You premake the arrangement so that he doesn’t even have to ask, there’s sincerity in his eyes when he thanks you. 

However, one sunday afternoon there’s a break in the routine. The normal quiet shop is buzzing with patrons in a Mother’s Day rush. Part of you enjoys the challenge of a busy day (and certainly the tip influx) however it gets exhausting dealing with snappy clients and soon your hands ache from constant work and thorn pricks. The tensions increase tremendously when the shop runs out of roses by early afternoon. So as you’re tying up a tulip arrangement and you hear your coworker inform yet another customer of the shortage you prepare for the worst. But there’s no groan of annoyance or lame joke. That’s when you notice the time, and you look over, and you see him. 

“Is there anything else I could get for you, sir?” Your coworker chirps waiting for him to respond but he just looks lost. You pass off the tulips to the waiting customer and scan the shop. The rush has begun to dwindle with only three customers in line behind him. 

“Why don’t I help you put together a new arrangement?” You offer. He hesitates for a moment then nods. You set down your shears and step out from behind the counter, motioning for him to follow you as you walk towards one of the displays. 

“Is it alright if I ask you some questions?” You inquire cautiously as his eyes scan the wall before landing on you and nodding once again. 

“Is there a particular connection to roses in the relationship?” 

“No, um- not really.” 

“A lot of people go to roses because it’s that universal symbol of love, but there are a lot of other flowers that can represent that. I’d usually only recommend red roses if there’s an additional meaning in the relationship or if you’re looking for something easy. Oh, or if they’re very traditional- was this person a very traditional type?” 

“Not exactly.” His ghost smile returns again and he shakes his head. 

“Well then you have a lot of other options. Flowers all have different meanings. Carnations are common funeral flowers because they stand for remembrance and gratitude. Or if you want you could go more relationship-based. There are some flowers for friends like zinnias, some for lovers like peonies. You could also choose flowers that represent character like the gladiolus which symbolizes strength and integrity. So, do you have any idea what meaning you’d like to aim for?” 

He ponders for a moment, glancing around before taking a small step and looking into a barrel of flowers, plucking one out. 

“What are these?” 

“Asters.” You inform him, taking a step to examine them. 

“I recognize them.” He remarks. 

“Very common in arrangements, but not considered to be focal points. They used to be worn often in the hair like daisies in the 40s and 50s. By the 60s people moved to flower crowns which were usually made of smaller flowers. But asters go back even farther, the Greeks believed they warded off evil and used them as a staple.” 

“What do they represent?” 

“Love and patience. Though the colors can push the meaning one way or another depending on the arrangement. Would you like to work with these?” 

“These would be perfect.” He replies and you wave him over to watch as you put a bouquet together. 

He settles on those for a while. When he comes in it’s not as silent. He’ll implore about the meaning of other flowers, you offer to mix other species, but he only buys asters for three months.

                                                              ~⍟~

He’s gone for awhile. A long while. His visits didn’t slow. He was there once a week until he wasn’t. You think it’s probably for the best, he probably moved on. But a part of you holds on, misses the familiar face. Eventually you move on too. 

It’s late afternoon and you’re leaving work. The clippings have been thrown out, the open sign has been flipped to closed, and the keys are in your hand when you hear a shout. 

A figure quickly runs towards you and your heart speeds up for a moment before his face comes into view and halts right in front of you. 

“Hi.” He breathes. “I didn’t know if you still worked here.” 

You nod, still slightly stunned. 

“I don’t mean to hold you up, but today’s important.” He states. 

You nod again. “Of course, come in.” You say kicking the door back open. He catches it, following in after you. 

“It’s been a long time.” You remark, immediately collecting the familiar flower and crafting the bouquet. “You look good with a beard.” 

“Thanks.” He says, taken aback. “You remembered?” 

“There aren’t a lot of customers who would listen to me ramble on about plant symbolism for months. Plus it’s a pretty non-traditional request.” You reply, handing the bundle over to him. “Where have you been?” 

“Out of New York.” He informs while reaching into his pocket.

“And you came all the way back past closing for these?” You say, amused. 

“A lot has changed in my life, I guess I was looking for something familiar.” He replies earnestly as you place the change in his hand. “I appreciate you taking the time. Thank you.” 

“It’s no trouble.” You wave him off, clearing your work station for the second time. “How long are you in town.” 

“Hard to say.” He responds as you walk out from behind the counter once more and pause. 

“Who are you?” You ask. 

“Steve Rogers.” He informs, putting his hand out. “And you?” 

“(Y/N) (L/N)” You answer, shaking his hand with an amused smile. 

“Well, Thanks again (Y/N).”

“Hope to see you again soon Steve.”

                                                            ~⍟~

Steve comes back a month later. And he is different, but not in a bad way. You can tell when he walks in that he’s not looking for grief flowers. 

“A beautiful day in the neighborhood is it Mr. Rogers?” You jest as he walks in with a smile. 

He cocks his head in confusion as you chuckle lightly. “Nevermind. What’s the occasion?” 

“A gift this time. I was hoping you could help me prepare something for an old friend.” He answers. 

“Any other details?” You ask, racking your brain immediately. 

“Something durable enough to survive a flight.” He states, surprising you. 

“I wouldn’t recommend hardly anything for a long flight; You can’t bring a water vase through TSA.” You inform him. 

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” He replies causing you to chuckle once more. 

“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Rogers.” You remark. “Are you always this vague?” 

“When I-” 

Steve is cut off by the door to the shop being thrown open, two suited men walking with determination up to him. 

“Hello, can I help-.” You begin to greet the gentleman but freeze as they each pull a gun on Steve. 

“Take it easy fellas.” Steve instructs slowly putting his hands up. 

“You shouldn’t have come back to New York, Captain.” One man rebukes. You begin inching towards the back room, not as stealthy as you like as one of them turns and aims his gun at you. “Don’t move.” 

Steve takes a swing at the one who’s gun is still trained on him, catching the man’s wrist as he fires in retaliation and jerking it up so that the hand gun fires into the ceiling. The other man turns away from you and Steve grabs the one who he’s currently struggling with and swings him into the other, causing both men to tumble into a display. The recently-fired weapon skitters across the floor and Steve lunges after it as the fallen men untangle themselves from the perennials. The unarmed man charges Steve who pistol whips him, easily knocking him onto the floor. The other approaches slowly with his gun trained on Steve who raises his own hand-gun to match him. 

“You’re not gonna shoot me.” The man declares as he inches closer. Steve takes a few steps in as well, testing the man as the gap narrows between them. 

“You’re right.” Steve affirms before reeling back and slamming his head against the other man’s, sending him stumbling back into another display. Steve persists, the two exchanging punches, power shifting as they grapple with each other, each being thrown to the floor and bouncing back. Eventually, Steve lands the final blow that knocks the other unconscious. He exhales a breath as he watches the man slump to the ground then moves his gaze towards you. 

“Please, don’t tell anyone I was here.” He requests as the sound of sirens are heard approaching in the distance. You swallow thickly but nod, eyes fixated on him as he bolts from the store with amazing speed. 

You take a few careful steps out from behind the counter and examine the damage inside the shop, still holding your breath as you move between the two fallen men. You notice an old device on the ground amongst the ruined flowers and grab it with a shaky hand.  You examine it, curiosity and anxiety battling in your brain as you inspect it in it’s closed state. Your interest outweighs your rationale as you flip it open, revealing an old compass with a photo attached. The door chimes and you quickly pocket the device as police flood the scene. Your head is spinning in unanswered questions, with one sticking out in particular. 

Who the hell is Steve Rogers? 

                                                            ~⍟~

The shop is closed for a few days to deal with the damages. Thankfully all the destruction was done to products and storing units and not to the structure itself. As soon as supply is restocked and the bullet hole is patched, the business is back up and running. Your boss offers you time off to deal with the shock, but you turn it down, curious to see if or when Steve will show again. After two weeks pass, you start to doubt him ever reappearing as you weigh the circumstances from his end. You also begin to wonder if the compass is worth holding onto, but you bring it to work just in case. 

You’re locking up the shop, with some difficulty as harsh rain from a brewing thunderstorm pelts down at you and causes the keys to slip. The rain is suddenly obstructed and you look over to find Steve standing beside you, holding an umbrella over your head. He’s got on a jacket along with a black cap and glasses and you wonder if that’s supposed to be a low-effort disguise as you turn the lock. 

“I’m sorry.” He speaks first, taking the sunglasses off. “I would never want to put people in danger, especially someone who has been a friend to me.” 

“I’m okay. Though there were some flowers that didn’t make it.” You joke, a smile cracking his solemn expression. 

“I thought you might be angry or afraid, but you’re-”

“Okay, really I am. My boss has insurance.” You assure him. “You’re not who I thought you’d be, Mr. Rogers.” 

“I’m sorry.” He repeats and you shake your head.

“Never said that was a bad thing, Captain.” You reply. “I’ve done my research on you now, and unless either of those guys were also frozen for 70 years, I think this belongs to you.”   

You pull the compass out and press it into his palm, his eyes widen as he opens it. “I thought the agents would’ve taken it in.” 

“I’ve got good eyes.” You shrug. “Let’s just say you owe me one.” 

“I owe you a lot.” He insists, pocketing the compact. “And I’d like to make it up to you. Maybe at dinner, tomorrow?” 

You break into a smile and nod, stepping out from under the umbrella to hail a cab. “You know when I get off.” 

                                                            ~⍟~

He’s cleaned up well when you spot him outside the store a few minutes after closing, and so have you, being out of your work clothing (though the floral scent still sticks to you.) 

He greets you warmly, still in a pseudo-disguise of cap and glasses as he approaches. “Wow, I’ve never seen you without an apron.” 

“Do I lose my charm without the uniform?” 

“I guess we’ll find out by the end of the night.” He teases. “You hungry?”

You smile and nod, falling into step beside him as he leads the way. It’s a short walk before he opens the door to a diner, holding it as you step inside and get seated in a booth. 

“Did you come here as a kid?” You tease as you take in the retro atmosphere of the establishment. 

He rolls his eyes, setting down his menu to look at you. “I had a feeling the old jokes were coming.”

“Am I that predictable or are you just wise in your old age?” 

“Probably both.” He sighs. 

You two quip back and forth throughout the meal. You joke about sharing a milkshake and the waitress plays along until you see Steve’s shoulders tense and declare yourself too full. 

“Do you always come to places like this?” You inquire after a beat of silence (post-battling over the check) 

“Like what?” He responds, casting his eyes towards the table as you shoot him a knowing look. “It’s hard catching up to the world sometimes. I think I do a pretty good job all things considered, but sometimes I miss the way things used to be.” 

“Would you change it?” 

“I try not to think about it like that. I can’t change what’s already happened.” 

“But there’s a lot that you can look forward to.” 

“There’s a lot to enjoy right now.” 

“I agree.” You smile, letting the moment sit before moving to your feet. 

“Okay, Golden Boy, you gotta get me home before curfew or else my dad isn’t going to let me go to the sock hop with you this weekend.” You tease. 

“Alright then.” Steve huffs as he stands up as well, the two of you strolling back in the direction of the shop. You stop at where your car is parked on the street at the storefront and prepare your goodbyes. “I was wondering if I could give you something.” 

“Yeah, sure.” You reply, curious as he dashes off and reappears, handing you a bouquet. 

“White Narcissus.” You remark, carefully taking the flowers in surprise. “Daffodils to most people.” 

“Symbolizing New Beginnings.” He recites, offering you a small smile which you return as you pluck one from the bunch and hand it to him. 

“To New Beginnings.” You echo, staring at him. He leans in first and you let the flowers droop at your side as your lips are caught in a chaste kiss. 

“When’s your flight?” You ask without widening the gap between you. 

“Last week.” He breathes. 

“Go get ‘em Captain.” You joke, patting him on the arm, but the small laugh does nothing to ease his bittersweet smile before he leans in once more. 

“Thank you, for everything.” He says, earnestly as he pulls away again. “I don’t know when I’ll be back in New York but…”

“I’ll see you soon Mr. Rogers.” 

                                                            ~⍟~

Peter Parker x Reader

You're sitting on the dock, staring up at the stars. It’s quiet, it’s always quiet here. So it’s not hard to notice as something streaks across the sky. You make a wish. But the light falls closer and closer. And it’s not a star, but it’s burning. You hear a scream and watch as a body collides with the lake. You hop to your feet, quickly diving in after it. The water is dark but you follow a glint. You struggle to get back above water with the extra weight, lungs begging for air, but you push past it. You gasp as you break past the surface, pushing your way to the bank. You hoist the body into the grass, getting a proper look at the individual as you pull off a mask and begin CPR. He coughs for a moment, mumbling incoherently before falling unconscious once again. 

He wakes up the next morning with a start, attempting to jump up but yelping in pain. You pause the movie you were watching and walk through the open gap into the dining room where you had left him bandaged on the table. 

“I would be more careful.” You warn and he jolts in surprise at your presence. 

“Who are you? What’s going on?” He breathes quickly, taking in his current state. His eyes glance at the mask resting on a chair at the edge of the room. “Where’s my suit?” 

“Ruined. Burned up during your fall.” You answer first, taking a cautious step towards him. 

“The fall?” He repeats taking a second to gather his thoughts. He moves to rub at his eyes and hisses in pain at the quick movement. 

“You gotta take it easy.” You warn. “You got burned pretty bad too. It’s a miracle you survived once you hit the water. Do you remember what happened to you?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s coming back to me.” He answers. “Who are you?”

“Y/N L/N.” You reply. “And you?”

“Peter Parker.” He says, cautiously. “Who are you with y/n l/n?” 

You chuckle at the odd question. “I’m not with anyone.” 

“I can’t believe you managed to track where I fell, is that the kind of technology that was on the truck?” 

“You took a pretty nasty fall, I think you’re heads in a weird place.” You reply as your golden retriever comes bounding into the room. Peter looks hesitant for a second but the dog simply sniffs his hand and sits expectantly. 

“Oh sorry, I am with someone. This is Maizy.” You introduce and he gives her a gentle rub on the head. 

“There’s nobody else here?” 

“No one.” 

“So you found me…” 

“Yep.” 

“So why aren’t I in a hospital?” 

“Do you know where we are?” You inquire, chuckling lightly. “This is Green Bank.” 

You begin to explain when he shoots you a confused look. “Green Bank, West Virginia. We’re in the National Radio Quiet Zone. There’s no signal or wifi or transmissions at all within thousands of miles. I could’ve hiked you up to the emergency center, but it’s a 20 mile trek. I know CPR and there’s a first aid kit, so I figured I better just keep you steady for the night.” 

“Wow, so you like saved my life.” He exhales. 

“Well I wouldn’t-” You begin. 

“You did.” He asserts before looking out the window. “What a mess. Aunt May is gonna lose it.. God, I need to call her and tell her- oh no.” 

“Yeah, no cell phone signal. But, uh, there’s a phone booth a couple miles north.” You retort. “I can give you a lift.” 

“That’d be amazing, thank you so much.” 

                                                         --🕸--

You peddle down the road, Peter riding behind you in the wagon. You expected some complaint as you unveiled the simple bike, but he didn’t even joke. Even as you were riding over uneven paths, bumps jostling his injuries, he remained kind, dismissing any concern you voiced. 

He thanks you as you help him to his feet when you arrive at the box. He immediately begins limping the short distance and you let out a breath of amusement, calling out to stop him. 

“Hey Peter?” 

“Yes?” He turns, picking up the receiver. 

“Do you have any money?” 

His eyes widen in realization, patting himself as a reflex (and wincing) as you walk over and press a few coins into his hands. 

                                                        --🕸--

After you ride him back, you recommend some low-energy activities to keep him in recovery. Though you soon realize the boy is too antsy to sit still as you attempt to reapply his bandages. So you allow him to help you put together sandwiches and some snacks before picking out a few movies and settling down. 

Maizy fixes herself a spot on the couch in between you two and by the time the sun sets Peter has already crashed, the retriever snoozing beside him. 

                                                        --🕸--

You wake up in the morning to the smell of smoke. It jolts you out of bed and you come racing down the stairs to find Peter dumping a few burnt pancakes into the trash can. 

“Don’t worry Maize, I’m sure I’ll get it. You know what they say, 13th time’s the charm, right?” He speaks to the dog, patting her on the head.

You chuckle from your position at the bottom of the steps causing him to whip around with an embarrassed expression. “Are you trying to burn this cabin down, Parker? Because I’d really advise you to stay away from fire.” 

You take a few steps into the kitchen but notice one of the burns on his arm has improved significantly. You take his elbow gently, looking over it with disbelief. “That’s not possible.” 

“It’s a miracle what a good night’s sleep can do for you.” He offers. 

“These take weeks to heal and you’ve jumped half the recovery period overnight.” You reply. “It’s impossible.” 

“I’ve got a great immune system.” He tries instead, turning back to his pancake batter. You reach and turn down the heat from high to medium and he shoots you a grateful smile. 

“I’m sure you do, Spiderman.” You retort, opening up the fridge and pulling out some orange juice. When you look back at him, he’s gawking at you. “Come on, you’re famous. I was skeptical whether that was just a costume but obviously not. I don’t live under a rock, you know.” 

“Well not a rock, but this place is as off the grid as it gets. People know about superheros here?” He asks. 

“Not the residents, that’s very unlikely. The military probably have intel though, they’re all over. But I don’t actually live here, it’s just a vacation cabin for spring break.” You explain. “My older brother’s staying at a place further in town with the car.” 

Peter nods in understanding, finally producing flipping a perfect pancake onto a plate with a big grin. You congratulate the boy and the two of you sit down for a nice breakfast. 

                                                        --🕸--

Peter suggests a day in the lake, which you caution against as his wounds are better, but still raw. He dismisses this, chirping about saltwater being good for wounds and before you get a chance to explain that isn’t exactly how it works, he’s already running towards the dock and doing a flip into the water. Maizy soon chases after him, excitedly and you watch the two for a moment before eventually joining them. 

The two of you have an exciting day outdoors and by the time night falls once again, you’re back on the dock. You’re looking up at the sky, but this time he’s laying safely beside you instead of hurtling towards his death. 

“Wow. I can’t believe the stars really look like this out here. It’s nothing like New York” He breathes in amazement and you nod. 

“Almost no light pollution.” You explain simply. “It’s what makes coming out to the middle of nowhere worth it.” 

“Because it’s so beautiful.” He says softly. 

“Yeah.” You reply, turning your head to him but he’s already staring at you. Then he moves in, kissing you softly with his hand on your face. 

“Sorry.” He says, pulling back sheepishly but you simply shake your head and pull him back in with a hand on the nape of his neck. 

It’s a wonderful moment. That is until Maizy starts barking at the two of you, eagerly licking Peter’s face as soon as the two of you break apart. This causes you both to break into laughter and you take it all in as the best day of your vacation plays out. 

                                                        --🕸--

You cycle your way into town early, trading the bicycle for the car from your brother with a bullshit-ed excuse. You pack up some snacks for the drive, preparing a bed for Maizy in the back and by the time you reappear, all ready to go, Peter has woken up. He’s stretching on the couch as you walk into the den and greets you with a big yawn. “Morning”

“How are you feeling?” You inquire, sitting beside him. 

“Much better.” He confirms your suspicions and you peel away one of the bandages to find a pink scar. 

“Incredible.” You mutter to yourself, before standing up, keys jingling as you do so. 

“Are you going somewhere?” He asks, responding to the sound. 

“You gotta get home right?” 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, you weren’t planning on walking all the way back to New York were you?” 

“You’re really willing to drive all the way back for me?” 

“Yeah, I can’t keep the friendly Spiderman away from his neighborhood any longer, I think it’d be selfish. We’ll head out as soon as you're ready.” 

                                                        --🕸--

The three of you embark on the journey soon after and once you pass out of the quiet zone you allow the boy reign over your phone for music. Between snacks, jokes and jamming out, the seven-hour ride passes impossibly quickly and you arrive in Queens in no time. He says goodbye to Maizy who’s asleep in the back as he exits the car before walking over to your window and giving you a parting kiss. 

“You still owe me for tolls.” You joke as he pulls away, causing him to let out a light laugh. 

“Thank you y/n, for saving me and, well for everything.” 

“You saved me from cabin fever, let’s call it even.” You dismiss, though you feel a lump start to form in your throat. “I should go. You’ve got a world to save and I’ve gotta get this car back, so.” 

“Goodbye y/n.” 

“Goodbye Peter.” 

He gives you one last kiss on the forehead before quickly disappearing into the night and you begin a quiet journey back. 

He might not have been a shooting star, but you certainly got your wish. 

A/N: I have ideas for a part two so lmk if that’s something y’all would like!

Bucky x Child!Reader Warnings: none I think, as Bucky has a parental relationship with the reader. Request: hey could you maybe do something with "he hadn’t meant to scare the child" bucky x child!reader? maybe he takes them in and raises them and tries to escape hydra so he's not a bad influence? pretty please and thank you!!! love both of your writing <3 A/N: In this Bucky is still on the run before civil war.

  James Buchanan Barnes met quite a few characters while he worked for Hydra, but by far the most horrific was the child. The first time he saw them, two years ago, they were so pale and fragile. Probably had been starved and beaten he remembers thinking to himself. 

   The Winter Soldier had just returned from a mission and was on his way to be patched up. He happened to see them through the window in the cell, and he felt his humanity return to him. Hydra had wiped him so many times he forgot how to feel, to emote, and the sight of this child bruised and frightened made him hurt. He couldn’t let Hydra replicate the horrors he had faced on this child. He promised, that moment, that he would save them. They were only six.

   He shook his head as their voice pulled him from the memory. 

   “Buck?” They asked.

   “What’s up, sweetheart?” He responded as he walked over to their bed and ruffled their hair.

   “I can’t sleep. The nightmares are back and I don’t want them to catch us,” They explained, beginning to cry. 

   He sat down on their bed and hugged them. “Y/N,” he sighed, “I will never let them get you again. You’re safe with me, they won’t ever catch us. Try to sleep, okay?”

   “Okay.” The motel room fell silent for a moment.

  “Bucky?”

   “Yes?” 

   “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep? You make the nightmares go away.”

   “Sure darlin’,” he said and wrapped the child in his arms and held them until they fell asleep.

   When Bucky was first able to meet the child, he had to do so in secret. He had pretended he still had no thoughts or emotions so that they wouldn’t wipe him again. He couldn’t afford to forget anymore. That day the Hydra base was attacked, and with Hydra’s soldiers distracted, he snuck into their cell. He hadn’t meant to scare the child, but his appearance wasn’t exactly warm or inviting, and after weeks, months, or years of Hydra’s abuse they were conditioned to be afraid. The child receded to the corner of their cell.

   “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

   “Promise?” They asked, sniffling.

   “I promise.”

   Bucky awoke the next morning, made a cup of coffee, and checked the news. The government was still looking for him, as well as Hydra, and no doubt Steve. They had been in one spot for too long, almost three days in the same motel. He walked over to where the child slept peacefully; he hated to have to wake them.

   “Y/N, time to wake up. We gotta go.” The small form opened their eyes and yawned before nodding and packing up what little they owned. Bucky made a mental note to get them a toy or something when he next came upon a little money. He made quick work of his belongings as well, then taking their small bag and storing it in his backpack and picking them up.

   After months of living like this, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He loved Y/N like his own child, but they suffered immensely because of his situation. They didn’t go to school, have any friends, or a home, and he hated himself for not being able to do better, but there was no way he could since he was still on the run. He sighed heavily, having made up his mind.

   Steve had just gotten back to his apartment after a long mission, tense and exhausted. He opened the door to his apartment, put his keys on the shelf, turned to head to the kitchen but stopped dead in his tracks. There was a child standing in his apartment. 

   “Are you Steve?”

   “Yes, who are you?” Steve asked, as he crouched down to be at the same level.

   “I’m Y/N. Dad- I mean Bucky said you would take care of me and that he couldn’t do it anymore, but that he loved me and would be back for me.” The child paused, sniffled and wiped away their tears, and then continued, “He wrote you a note.”

   Steve accepted the note from the child’s outstretched hands, and began to read.

   Steve, It’s me, Buck. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out to you before now but you know how many people are after me and I can’t risk contacting anyone, even you, but my situation is dire. Y/N is eight years old, I saved them from Hydra when they were six. They still have nightmares from time to time but it’s gotten much better. I love them like my own but I can’t give them the life they need, at least not right now. Please Steve, I know you’ll do the right thing. I’m sorry that I can’t.

Sincerely, 

      James Buchanan Barnes

Avengers x Reader Request: Imagine being the youngest Avenger and you go on your first solo mission they wait and worry and think of "what if"s and then when you get home they check you for injuries/ask you how it went like the over protective mommies they are. Thankyou!😄 A/N: This is written as if Civil War never/hasn’t happened & everything in italics is a flashback. This is the last of my old fics, so expect fresh content soon!

   “I can’t believe my baby’s all grown up!”

   “God, since when are you my mom?”

   “Ouch,” Tony said as he released you from a crushing hug. 

   “Back off Tony, you’re smothering them,” Steve quipped.

   “Am I not allowed to be proud of my baby?” Tony continued, fake sobbing and squeezing the life out of you once more.

   “We’re not related, old man,” you said with a smirk.

   “Excuse you! You think I’m old? Have you even seen Clint? Or Capsicle over here?”

   “Hey! I didn’t do anything!” Clint interjected.

   Steve ignored the bickering and Tony’s comment. “Y/N, just be safe. And remember your training.”

   “Way to ruin the fun, gramps.” 

   “Tony! Make old jokes either about me or Steve! It’s confusing,” Clint complained before continuing in a lower tone, “Preferably Steve...”

    Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just remember the break-someone’s-neck-with-your-thighs trick I taught you,” she said before patting you on the back and sauntering away to do god knows what. 

   Wanda hugged you, and Vision was there to see you off with everyone else.

      That was pretty much all you remember before you boarded the quinjet and were dropped off at your location. You had infiltrated a Hydra base and worked your way up in the ranks during the months-long mission, all the while trying to avoid unnecessary attention so as to not blow your cover. The training was brutal, the people cold, and the buildings colder. You had been sent on this mission because you were the least recognisable of the Avengers, being the youngest and most protected, so you were the least risky option. Your mission had been a success so far, gaining Hydra’s trust in order to gain access to information the Avengers needed. 

   Unfortunately, just before you were supposed to be extracted, it all went to shit. One of your newly-minted coworkers in Hydra apparently had an uncontrollable desire to impress the higher ups, and he had taken your picture, searched Hydra’s database for matches, and eventually found what he needed to take you down. You, of course, bugged essential offices in the building, and knew what was coming for you. 

   You immediately grabbed your collected intel, and began to make your way out of the base as inconspicuously as possible - and that was when the lockdown hit. You had to fight your way out now, and it wasn’t easy.

   Thirteen hours later, the quinjet arrived at Avengers tower. You were exhausted, more than happy to be home, and ready to sleep in your own bed for the first time in forever. 

   The back hatch opened and you began to walk down the ramp when suddenly you heard cheers and shouts of joy. Your team had been awaiting your return; everyone had stayed up to greet you. 

   The first one to hug you was Natasha as you whispered to her, “I did the thigh trick. Twice.” She smirked and stepped aside to let Steve and Tony crush you in a giant hug. 

   “Oh my god Y/N is that you? I forgot what you looked like! It’s been years since I last saw you!” Tony overdramatically sobbed, while Steve just said “You did good, kid,” and patted you on the head.

   “You seem to have succeeded and for that I congratulate you,” Vision stated with as close to a smile as he gets. 

   Wanda practically ran to you and started checking for injuries while Clint strolled up to you and put his arm around your shoulder.

   “I want to hear all about it! Don’t leave out anything! Ooh, were there boys?”

   “Clint! I’m too tired for this,” you yawned.

   “Hi too tired for this, I’m Clint.”

   “Oh my god.”

   As the night unfolded around you, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have such an amazing team, or rather such a beautifully dysfunctional family.

Pietro x reader

   You were lying on your bed, bored, watching flames dance around your fingers. You heard a knock on your door. Sighing, you got up to answer it, and found the one and only Pietro on the other side. You had never shown him (or anyone else for that matter) your pyrokinetic powers before. You were worried about losing control. You couldn't even calm your heartbeat around him, so how in the hell were you supposed to control your powers?     "You doing anything, Y/N?" He asked with a smirk.

    “Nope. Why?” You replied, curious. You and Pietro had always been flirty, he was like that with everyone.

    “Well I was watching TV when I realized how bored I was without you, so I thought maybe you'd come cuddle with me.” He suggested rather shyly, at least when compared to his usual shameless advances.

    “I'll have to pass Pietro, sorry. I'll watch tv with you if you want, but I'm not really a cuddly person.” You said, trying not to hurt his feelings. Even without your powers, you never liked to be touched. It took a lot of trust to let someone get that close to you.

    “Oh okay.” He said, rubbing his neck looking at the floor. “It’s just, I thought you liked me? At least I was hoping you liked me...” He looked up at you through his eyelashes as he trailed off. 

    “Oh I-I um,” your face went bright red. “I do like you Pietro, I just don't like being touched. Sorry,” you looked at the ground embarrassed, while Pietro broke into a full-fledged grin. 

    “Printessa,” He said as he lifted your chin with his finger, “I like you too. Disliking being touched is nothing to be ashamed of. Just let me know of your boundaries and I will always respect them, yeah?”

    You nodded, and pulled him into your room. “Can I show you something?” 

     “Of course,” He said and sat on the edge of your bed.

     You took a deep breath, calmed your nerves, and set your fingers alight. You made a dazzling show of fire with your fingertips while Pietro watched in awe. 

     “Y/N, how long have you been able to do that?” He stared at you with an even more profound awe than before.

     “I dunno, as long as I can remember.” You said bashfully.

     “Fantastic!” Pietro practically yelled while jumping from your bed. He went to hug you, but stopped himself. “Can I hug you?” He asked, unsure.

     He was trying so hard. “Yes, thanks for checking,” You smiled and outstretched your arms as he enveloped you in a quick but reassuring hug. Maybe you could get used to touching, now that you knew your powers were completely controlled, even around Pietro.

Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

“Careful!” Bruce warns, watching as two kids both dive towards a bush, crash-landing into it and collapsing in laughter as one of the Barton children runs by and grabs the egg the two were reaching for. The kids soon spring back up and go racing in different directions, scattering across the property as the hunt continues. 

Though the Avengers normally assembled to take down harmful regimes, today the heroes and their families have all gathered for a well-earned Easter holiday. You and Peter had volunteered to run the egg hunt. Your recruitment as an Avenger had you staying at the facility and after months of training, you knew the grounds well. Between your awareness of the space and Peter’s dexterity, the two of you had managed to pull off some pretty tricky hiding spots. The eggs had been divided by color to account for the age variety in the children and you find yourself pretty entertained between watching the competition and listening to the adult commentary beside you. 

“This is getting boring, let’s each bet on a kid, I think the son of a God has the best chances.” Tony suggests as the event reaches the final drags, the kids searching tirelessly for the last five, well-hidden eggs. 

“I don’t think divine power does much for your egg hunt. If anything I would give the Wakandians the advantage, their technology far outranks your American robots.” Thor retorts. “No offense Vision.” 

“None taken?” 

“They would never cheat.” T’challa declares before Tony attempts to defend his creations from Thor’s dismissal. 

Most of the kids had grown frustrated in their search, approaching you or Peter for hints. You remain coy, but have to restrain Peter from giving in to the cute, manipulative expressions from the children. Eventually you narrow down the search area for the remaining eggs in order to expedite the event. You catch grief from Bruce for having the last egg stashed on the roof, but you defend yourself as the building is barely over one story tall. 

“There were eggs in taller trees.” You argue as all the children move in to show their parents the bounty they’d retrieved. “Plus no one got hurt from scaling the building.”

He grumbles about the dangers but Natasha soothes him easily, ending the debate. 

The eggs get counted and the winners are revealed, the kids being sent in to wash up before dinner. 

Tony salutes Steve’s son as he turns to move inside. “Mini-Captain.” 

“My kid has a name you know.” Steve says, pointedly. 

“Yeah but I’m his cool uncle. I’m the one who he’ll come to so he can steal booze when you’re being a hard ass.” Tony responds. 

“And when Morgan is going through something and is looking for actual advice and empathy, she’ll go to-.” Steve begins. 

“Me.” Pepper interjects, stepping outside. “Come on, dinner is ready.” 

Everyone trickles inside and the meal is a long one, filled with rehashed memories, quick arguments and lots of laughter all around. Being an Avenger is a rough and daunting career, but moments like these make you remember why you love these people. You’re part of this big, strange family and you have so much to fight for. You can’t keep yourself from smiling as you take the evening in. It’s certainly a holiday to remember. 

A/N- Whether you celebrate or not I hope everyone is having a safe and happy Sunday!

Natasha x Deaf!Reader Warnings: Deaf reader (None of us Mods are deaf or hoh, so with that in mind, please let us know if this story is inaccurate, insensitive, or offensive in any way. I had the other Mods help me out with this one, and we tried our best to make an accurate deaf reader. Between peer revision and deaf community knowledge from two years of ASL, we hope we wrote our story well enough that it doesn’t upset anyone. - Mod Mainframe)

   Being the newest member of the Avengers was difficult. Clint had recruited you, being the only Avenger who already knew American Sign Language (ASL), a little over a month ago. At first, you struggled the most in meetings. They would banter back and forth so rapidly; you were not only having trouble reading lips that quickly but also figuring out who was going to respond next. There were 10+ Avengers, depending on who you include, and it was generally hard to keep track of who was speaking and when.

   Eventually, the team picked up on this and started pointing to who was talking, so you could follow a conversation more easily. Sooner or later Clint became your interpreter and signed everything that was said, so you became fast friends. You would hang out with him and Natasha regularly, watching tv or training together. Natasha was gorgeous, inside and out. You admired her for her bravery and were jealous of her fighting knowledge. You began to spar with her more frequently, and it was hard to communicate. Usually, you read her lips and nodded yes or no, but as time went on it became too tiresome to have conversations of any depth. Unbeknownst to you, Natasha liked you too, and she desperately wanted to get to know you better. She had Clint teach her ASL secretly so she could ultimately surprise you.

   Early one morning, you had a scheduled training session with Natasha. You had finally started to feel at home in the tower, but you were still hung up on Natasha. Clint often teased you about it. Nevertheless, you got up, took a shower, got dressed, and headed towards the training room. As you walked in the door, you waved to Vision and Wanda who were sparring, and took your starting stance across from Natasha. You smiled at her, and motioned for her to begin. You made the first move, punching at her face. She ducked, swinging her leg out and knocking you over. She then tried to kick you but you grabbed her foot and rolled over, pulling her down to the ground. You flipped on top of her and pressed your forearm over her throat, as she had taught you. The spar ended, and you helped her up. 

   “Good job with that move,” she signed to you.

   “Thanks, I’ve b-,” you stopped in the middle of your sentence while what just happened finished processing in your head. “Holy shit, you know ASL?” you signed.

   “Yeah, I got Clint to teach me. I’m a quick study,” she smiled at you.

   You beamed back at her, “Why did you want to learn?” 

   “Because I like you and wanted to be able to have a real conversation with you.”

   That was all you needed to know before you ran up to her and captured her lips with yours.

Bucky x Reader

You had seen him before.

The first time you saw him, he had stopped by your house when it was pouring. He had asked you if he could stay on your porch for a while, at least until the rain let up a bit. You had looked him over, making your heart drop at the state he was in. He looked terrible; hair unkempt, clothes dirty and ripped, and he was soaked to the bone. Being compassionate, you let him into your house. He thanked you and he walked inside, sighing in relief at how warm it was indoors. You asked him if he wanted a change of clothes, and you told him that he could use your bathroom to clean himself up. He accepted your offer, saying little to you before you showed him to the bathroom and you handed him some of your father’s old clothes, hoping they’d fit.

You waited on the couch in your living room, turning your speakers on and listening to some music to calm yourself down. Being around others and talking to them wasn’t your strong point. Even though you and the stranger didn’t exchange many words, you were still nervous. Having social anxiety made it difficult for you to talk to anyone, you preferred to be alone. You closed your eyes, nodding your head to the beat of the music, accentuated by your speakers. You immediately stopped when he walked into the room.

You opened your eyes to look at him, and you smiled. He looked happier clean and not in freezing rain. He thanked you once again for your hospitality before turning for the door to leave, he didn’t want to bother you anymore. You got up from your couch and walked him to the door.

“By the way, my name is (Y/N),” you had told him.

He gave you a slight smile before introducing himself to you, “My name is… James. You can call me Bucky.” He said, you noticed the hesitation in his voice, it was as if he was unsure of who he was himself. He stepped outside, saying his final goodbye before he disappeared.

That was months ago and now you stand with your door open, only to find Bucky standing there. Yet again, you examined him. Bucky looked amazing, it was almost as if he was a different person now. His hair had grown out more and he had it up in a small man bun, he had shaved, and his clothes looked new and clean. You blushed at his appearance and he smiled down at you, making your face heat up more.

“Hi (Y/N). I am sorry for the last minute notice, but could I stay here for a while? I’ll explain eventually.” He said, glancing around the area. You didn’t know what to question first, but you had a strange feeling you could trust Bucky, so you let him into your house.

You were surprised he remembered where you lived, after the first time you’d met him you thought you would never see him again.

“So how have you been?” You asked, curious to know where he had gone and why he had come back. Bucky smiled at you as you gestured for him to sit down.

“I didn’t tell you who I was when you let me stay. So let’s start there.” He said as he sat on your couch. You sat next to the long-haired boy and listened to his story. You felt terrible for him, knowing why he was so beaten up and dirty when he had first showed up. Bucky had been through so much and you had graciously let him in and taken care of him, and you were glad you had. You smiled at Bucky and reassured him that everything was going to be alright now. He was broken, but you were here to help him, even if it took a while. You sighed and got up from the couch, feeling in the mood to do something productive instead of just sitting. You looked over at Bucky, suddenly getting an idea.

“Do you want to go out back and see my horses?” You asked him. Bucky nodded and got up from the couch as well. The two of you walked outside, Bucky following behind you closely. You noticed he would glance around from time to time as if he was looking out for any danger towards you and himself.

As the two of you arrived at the stable, Bucky looked at the horse curiously. He had never been around a horse before, he was surprised by how intimidating the creature was. You smiled at the way Bucky seemed around your horse.

“Do you want to pet her?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised, questioning why you would trust him with the large animal in front of him. He looked down at his metal arm, slightly concerned he would hurt the horse. Or even worse, he could hurt you! The long-haired brunette started to panic, not trusting himself anymore. He thought he was getting better, but his current panic attack was proving the opposite of that.

You noticed Bucky was freaking out and you were by his side in an instant. You were used to panic attacks since you have had them before, so you knew how to help the poor broken soldier. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes, he was like a deer in headlights.

“Bucky…” You said softly and slowly to the man in front of you. You didn’t touch him, you didn’t know if that would set him off or not. Bucky was breathing heavily, sweating slightly as he had terrible flashbacks. You slowly took his face in your hands, looking into his eyes lovingly, showing him you were no threat. Bucky seemed to relax from his tense self as he blinked a couple of times, snapping back into reality. “I’m so sorry…” he said to you, ashamed by the fact he put you at risk by having a mental breakdown.

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control.” You told him, your hands left his face and you hugged Bucky softly. Bucky was shocked by your physical affection towards him, but he wasn’t complaining. His arms wrapped around you as he returned your hug. The two of you stayed there hugging for a while before you realized how long you had been embracing.

Bucky sighed as you let go of him, he loved the way your body fit against his. He didn’t want you to let go, but he had promised himself that he wouldn’t get attached to you when he came to visit. You smiled at the way Bucky pouted and hugged him again. At least he seemed happy once again.

“I love you (Y/N).” Bucky said, your eyes widened as you pulled away from the ex-assassin. His face was flushed, he hadn’t meant for that to slip out, but it did. You blushed at the fact Bucky has just confessed he had feelings for you.

“I love you too, Buck.” You said and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards your house. “Come on, it’s getting dark and I don’t want you to get sick because of the cold weather.”

The brown-haired boy followed you into your house happily, ecstatic you shared the same feelings about each other. And as the sunset, the two of you cuddled on your couch while listening to music, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms.