#age of ultron

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary:The Star Spangled Man with a Plan wakes up with a nightmare, and it’s up to you to comfort him.

Word Count: 993

Warnings:Angst.

A/N:Not my gif! Make requests for me, and tell me if this was good or nah. I thrive off of praise basically.

You know how sometimes people need a fan to be able to sleep? Well, for you, it was Steve Rogers’ heartbeat. It was something that you’d grown used to having lull you to sleep, and without it, you just couldn’t fall asleep. Ever since Steve had moved in a few months ago, it had become a staple for him to be next to you. You just weren’t comfortable enough without his big, strong arms around you and his heart beating so steady and bringing you to that place of relaxation. This whole relationship with Steve, you had mostly needed him more than he needed you. You accepted that. It was fine.

—————–

He was shivering. You slowly woke up to find Steve shivering in his spot, still asleep, even though he had two blankets on. How could he possibly be cold? You were slightly disoriented as you turned your head to look at the alarm clock. It was one in the morning. With a small sigh, you moved your body closer to Steve’s and pressed against him, hoping he would warm up. But he kept shivering, and not long after that, he started mumbling things. Talking in his sleep? He never did that. Steve was the soundest sleeper you had ever witnessed. You looked at his lips in the darkness, and tried to make out some of the words he was saying. Most of it was incoherent, what Steve was saying. But you managed to make out one word- a name. Bucky. Bucky. Why was Steve dreaming about Bucky? Shivering, and… and talking in his sleep? You didn’t know whether to wake him up or not, but his face was so pained, you definitely felt like you should.

You were about to gently wake him up, but then Steve did it himself. He shot up from his position, sitting up in the bed, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He groaned painfully, and, panting, looked around the room as if he couldn’t remember where he was. “(Y/N)?” He said, looking at you.

You sat up, reached over, and flicked on the lamp. “Steve?” you said softly, inching towards him, worried. “Steve, I’m right here. Are you okay?” Your voice was hoarse from having just woken up.

Steve turned to look at you. His cheeks were red and sweat covered his face like a blanket. His breathing was heavy, like he’d just run across the whole world. He had an expression on his face you’d never seen before- fear? Was he afraid? Steve? He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you, and around the room, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that this was real, and that whatever had been going on in that dream was over.

“Are you alright, Steve?” you asked him again, reaching over to grab his hand. He pulled away instinctively, looking like an abandoned dog. You furrowed your brow slightly and unraveled yourself from the blankets. “Come on, babe, let’s get you some water or something.” You slid on your slippers and opened the bedroom door.

Steve just shook his head, appearing to be back with you. “I’m fine, (Y/N).” He said, running a hand through his hair, and taking a deep, shaky breath. You stood in the doorway with a hand on your hip. “Really,” he insisted, nodding in confirmation. “I’m fine. Let’s… let’s go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to be prideful with me, Steve,” you said, flipping on the main light of the bedroom. “I’m not going to respect you any less if you tell me what just happened. Clearly you had a nightmare or something. Why can’t you just tell me what it was?”

“It was nothing, (Y/N),” Steve said, his voice more persistent, and taking on a slightly irritated tone. “God, will you just give it a rest and come back to sleep with me?”

Rolling your eyes, and knowing you weren’t going to get anywhere, you shut off the light and stormed back into the bed. Steve turned with his back to you, and it took a while for you to fall asleep.

–

A few hours later you woke up to the sounds of Steve screaming. Your eyes shot open to see the blond man sitting up in bed, clutching his pillow like it was a lifeline. He was sweating again, the same scared-shitless look on his face.

“Steve,” you said, slowly sitting up against the headboard. “Babe, are you alright?”

“It was Bucky,” he said quietly, his voice shaky and scared. “I-it was Bucky. H-he kept falling off of that train, just over and… and over again. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save Peggy. I couldn’t even… I couldn’t even save myself.” His voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to him on the bed, and wrapped your arms around his bare shoulders.

“Shh,” you whispered, pulling him close to you, so that his head lay on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead a few times. “It’s over now, Steve.” You said quietly, knowing there was nothing you could do to take those awful World War II memories out of his head. He softly started crying into your chest, and you couldn’t help but cry with him- silent tears as he softly sobbed into your nightshirt.

“There’s nothing more you could have done, baby,” you said to him, tears streaming down your face as you tried to imagine the kind of pain he went through. “But it’s all over now, okay? It’s done. The past is gone.”

Eventually he fell asleep again, but you didn’t. Thinking about how much pain all this caused the love of your life made you incredibly, deeply sad, and you just couldn’t sleep with those kinds of thoughts in your head, even if Steve’s heartbeat was right there.  

After watching Hawkeye all I can think is that how in Age of Ultron after meeting the Barton family Tony had said , “ She’s an agent of some kind ” to Laura , and he was right.

#I wonder if Tony ever thought of becoming a seer

#He did try to make something to protect the world from aliens in AoU

#Team Tony if it wasn’t obvious

#Tony Stark : Genius billionaire ex playboy now a good husband and dad , philanthropist , part time seer

ballerinawidow:

Okay but you cannot convince me for one second that Clint doesn’t talk to Bucky about his own experiences being brainwashed. 

“They’re going to tell you it’s not your fault,” he says one day, maybe in the training room, maybe over a cup of coffee. Bucky looks up, half-listening because he still doesn’t sleep very well and he and Barton haven’t exactly had reason to chat. “What you did when you were brainwashed. And it’s not, it’s not your fault, but somehow, people saying that doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. They weren’t there, they don’t know what it means to get ripped out of your head and see your body used to kill.”

Now he has Bucky’s attention, but Bucky just lifts his coffee cup to his lips and doesn’t make eye contact. “And you do?”

“You were under when Thor’s psycho little brother tried the whole ‘take over the world’ bit, but he used me to do it.” Clint’s voice shakes a little, even after all this time. “I know it wasn’t my fault, and so do you, but that doesn’t make it any easier to wash the blood off.” He swallows a sip of his coffee uncomfortably and stands. He’s said his piece. 

“What does?” Bucky says before Clint can go two steps. “What helps?”

“You’ve got to find some kind of redemption,” Clint replies. “And someone to talk to.”

As the archer walks away, Bucky thinks that he may already have the latter. 

Brainwash-Buddies