#bucky whump

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

After All This Time | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! Who wants to have their feelings hurt?! 🙋🏻‍♀️ I love some good angst, some pain, some emotional turmoil. 

Warnings: relationship drama, references to violence, arguments, crying, ex!Bucky

“What are you doing here?” You stared at Bucky, shocked. Perplexed. He had no business at your apartment. Especially not so late at night. Especially not after what he’d done. The way he’d treated you. It took a long time- too long- to achieve some sense of normalcy after things fell apart. After he broke your heart. You weren’t over him; you feared you never would be. But you finally arrived at something that resembled stability. You were nearly okay- nearly.

But Bucky’s unexpected presence took you out at the knees. Was he always this beautiful? Or did you just miss him? His hair was a bit longer, his stubble a little scruffier. His deep blue eyes softened at the sight of you. No, he was always this beautiful. Dammit.

His expression was stern. Serious. Just like it had been when he left. He’d promised you he’d never come back. “Can I come in?” He was a liar, apparently.

“What? No.”

Bucky breezed past you anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest, hiding the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. Your arms hugged your body, crisscrossing over your old college shirt. Thank god you hadn’t opted to wear one of the many henleys he’d left behind. The humiliation of him seeing you in one of his old shirts would’ve been too much. You knew you shouldn’t wear them anymore, but you couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop yourself from cloaking your body in the comfort they provided. It was sad, maybe even a little pathetic. But you didn’t know how to stop.

“Hey- You can’t just barge into my apartment-”

“Shut the door.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “No. What do you- get out.”

Bucky closed and locked the door for you. His fingers twisted the key in the deadbolt and fastened the chain. He even pulled on the door once- then twice. It was secure. He positioned his body in front of it- either blocking your way out or someone else’s way in. You weren’t sure which.

“Go pack a bag. We’re leaving here in five minutes.” He checked his watch, “Sooner, if you can manage it.” He looked up from his wrist and finally let himself drink you in. Were you always this breathtaking? Or was he just happy to see you? Your skin glowed in the yellow light of your reading lamp. Your hair was shorter now- he liked it. Yeah, you were always this intoxicating. Bucky wondered how he could even question it.

“Are you out of your mind? We’re not going anywhere.” Anger was easier. Easier than sadness, than heartbreak. You let wrath wrap itself around your heart, shielding you from the pain. Bucky didn’t belong in your home anymore, no matter how badly you wished he did. He didn’t want to be here- he didn’t want you. He’d made that painfully clear.

And though part of you liked seeing him here, existing in the home you once shared, you knew it would only serve to hurt you. Your voice was quieter this time, less confident, “You need to leave.”

He let out a huff, as though he had the right to be annoyed with you. “Just trust me on this,”,

“Trust you? That’s hilarious-”

“You’re not safe here,” he said. His tone was firm, irrefutable. “Someone attacked Pepper and Morgan. Clint’s wife, Laura, and their kids. Murdock’s associate- that guy Nelson.”

A burst of worry shot through you, “Shit. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. They’ve all been relocated.” He wondered how you could worry about others while bypassing any concern for yourself. But the distress on your face was real; you’d gotten close with the families of the team before Bucky left. They welcomed you like one of their own, and your care for them survived even after things with Bucky died.

“Sam is taking his sister and her kids somewhere- everyone’s moving their loved ones.”

Silence. You waited for Bucky to elaborate. He waited for you to put the pieces together.

“So… why are you here? What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Hydra. They’re coming after our lov-” Bucky cleared his throat, “the people in our lives.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I get that. But I’m not in your life.”

Bucky knew you weren’t his anymore, but hearing you say it cut him to the bone.

The strong façade you wore threatened to crumble. This was too much for you- almost cruel. Back when things were good, they were really good. You planned on staying with Bucky forever. You saw yourself marrying him, spending the rest of your days together. He’d had other plans. He left you. And never looked back.

“I’m fine here,” you told him. “I don’t need you.”

Bucky struggled for words. This was harder than he thought. “Well… they- they don’t know that we...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Hydra, I mean, they don’t know what um, what happened. We were pretty public- they might think we’re still together. So, I need to get you to a safe house. Just in case.”

“Why?” The question hung heavy in the air.

Bucky didn’t say a word.

“Since when do you care? Don’t act like I matter to you all of a sudden- don’t pretend that you’re worried about me.” You forced every ounce of emotion behind an impenetrable wall, “leave. I’m serious, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You’re in danger. And I…” He ran a hand through his hair “Just come with me. Let me protect you.”

“I’m not yours to protect.” The stinging sensation of approaching tears burned behind your eyes. “So… you can go.”

Your words gutted him. He hadn’t felt this much pain since he left, since the last time he saw you. He’d left you alone in the apartment you once shared. He’d shut the door and stood on the other side, unable to walk away. His forehead rested against the wood, and he listened to you. The sound of you sobbing- wailing- drove stakes into his chest. But he knew it was better this way.

“Yeah, I know that…” he said, his voice softer now. “But your family, your friends- they’ll be devastated if something happens to you. Don’t do that to them. Come with me. And when this blows over, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

You hated that he was right. To let your pride endanger your life was selfish, stupid. You could practically hear your mom telling you to go with him.

But there was a side of you would rather die at the hands of Hydra than share a safe house with Bucky. Sure, you missed him. A lot. You wished he’d never walked out that door. But spending days- or weeks- with him? Just the two of you? In a secluded location? It would tear you to pieces.

You grumbled under your breath, “fine. How long will we be gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, then- where are we going?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Coordinates will be sent to the jet once we board.”

“Okay, great. Perfect. I don’t know how much to pack. I don’t know what kind of clothes I need. Awesome. Thanks, James.” You turned on your heel and headed toward your bedroom, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

James. James. You’d never called him James. Ever. Not even in a joking sense. He was always Bucky or Buck or Barnes or baby- depending on the context. Never James. It was so impersonal, you regarding him by his government name. So cold. Distant. He knew he deserved it- deserved way worse. But it stung, nonetheless.

With you busy in the other room, Bucky drank in the warmth of your apartment. It was inviting, cozy. Just like always. You’d gotten a few new pieces of art since he left; they took up the spaces left empty by the photos you removed. The picture of the two of you from a Stark gala. A strip of the two of you laughing in a photo booth at the pier. A polaroid of him kissing your cheek at Sam’s birthday party. He wondered what you did with them. Did you still have them- somewhere? Did you hide them away in a dusty box under the bed he used to share with you?

Or did you burn them?

He missed living there. Missed waking up next to you, missed making dinner for you. Missed you.

“Hey, I’m sorry to call so late…” you said into your phone, cradling it between your ear and your shoulder. “I’m gonna have to work from, um- I have to leave town for a little while.”

Bucky heard you on the phone with your boss, doing your best to lie your way through the situation. But you didn’t give much detail, just like he’d taught you when you first started dating. He told you never to trust anyone fully- never to believe that someone is worthy of every secret. He’d been speaking about outsiders. But when he left, he proved to you that no one deserved your trust. Not even him.

“Yeah, just family stuff,” he heard you say. “My cousin has been sick and took a turn for the worst, so… I need to be there just in case.”

He was so proud.

You stuffed clothes into a bag and rounded up the necessary toiletries. Your laptop, headphones, and a few books made the cut, and you grabbed the bag’s zipper, prepared to give it a final yank. But as you tried to close it up, a piece of fabric caught your eye. You let out a deep sigh. You’d moved on instinct, grabbing things from your closet and dresser without thinking. And some of Bucky’s old clothes had found their way among your items.

A flannel, two henleys, and a sweatshirt sat nestled at the bottom of your bag. They were some of your favorite things to wear- soft, comfortable, cozy. But you couldn’t bring them with you. Not when there was a chance Bucky would see them. You quickly swapped them out with pieces that didn’t belong to him and thanked the universe you’d noticed before it was too late.

When you emerged moments later with duffel bag in hand, Bucky was waiting for you. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. Hadn’t taken off his jacket. He wasn’t welcome here anymore. And making himself at home wasn’t right.

“Uh, here’s this,” he outstretched a hand in your direction and offered you a phone. “We can’t be sure that your phone isn’t being tracked. So, you have to leave yours here. This is a burner- just for emergencies.”

You dropped your phone on the counter with a dramatic groan and took the burner from his hand. Not only were you to be trapped for an indeterminant amount of time with the man who ripped your heart out of your chest and eviscerated it in front of your eyes- but you also had to give up your phone. “This feels like a kidnapping.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He made a move for your bag, “I can take that for you-”

“I got it”.

With a nod, he opened the door and checked the hall for potential dangers. And when he deemed it safe, he gestured for you to join him. He watched you lock the door- and smiled to himself when he realized you still used the same key. You never changed the locks after he left.

“This is the most conspicuous thing I’ve ever seen…” A jet sat on the roof of your building, just a few feet from the stairwell. “If Hydra didn’t know where I was before, they definitely do now.”

Bucky gave an awkward laugh, paired with a quiet “yeah”, and tried to help you board. But you shied away from any attempts as assistance. You needed to prove to Bucky that you didn’t need him anymore- no matter how untrue it was.

The flight was awkward. Quiet. Tense. You couldn’t escape to the back of the jet and hide from Bucky- there was no ‘back’. It was a small aircraft. Only enough room for two. It forced you to sit next to him, watching clouds paint with windows with their condensation as the jet sliced through the sky.

“So…” Bucky said after a while, “how’ve you been?”

You quieted him with a look.

The answer to his question was complicated- you didn‘t have the emotional energy to explain. Diving into how angry and miserable and lonely you’d been since his departure would take hours. Maybe days. And he didn’t deserve the inside scoop. He wasn’t welcome to your secrets or the inner workings of your mind- not anymore.

“We’re here…” Bucky said, his voice pulling you from your light sleep. You didn’t realize you’d nodded off. But sleep was the only escape from the painfully awkward situation he’d put you in.

“Okay, so…” Bucky opened the door to the house and gestured for you to enter before him. Still such a gentleman. “I know this place is kinda small. But I’m gonna do my best to not be in your space.” He flipped on a few lights and bathed the house in a warm yellow light. “They promised that the kitchen is stocked. I think there’s firewood somewhere in case we get cold. And there should be clean sheets and towels and stuff in a closet somewhere. As for the, um…” He cleared his throat, “the sleeping arrangements. There’s only one bedroom, so it’s yours- I’m gonna take the couch.”

He threw his bag over the back of the couch and watched it bounce against the cushions. “Let me know if you need anything.”

What you needed, he couldn’t give you. He couldn’t go back in time and reverse the effects of breaking your heart. He couldn’t rid you of the agony brought on by his absence. And so, with a curt nod, you bid him goodnight.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time you made the bed and crawled beneath the covers. You curled into a ball and pulled the blankets up over your head, as though protecting yourself. This had to be a joke. A prank. The wound Bucky’s departure caused had barely scabbed over- and his return flayed it wide open. It throbbed and ached as you cried under the safety of your blankets. You didn’t know what you’d done in a past life to deserve hurt like this.

Bucky collapsed onto the couch. He slumped forward and rested his head in his hands, replaying every moment since you opened the door. The look on your face when you saw him again, the disdain in your voice, the distrust you held for him- it made his chest ache. He hated himself for throwing away the best thing he’d ever had. For hurting you. For breaking the trust you’d built together.

He didn’t sleep that night- the pain didn’t let him. He, instead, remained awake. Wired. He cleaned his guns. Double and triple checked his supply of ammo. He made sure every window was locked, every door secure. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

The following day passed slowly. Bucky made enough breakfast for both of you, and kept your portion warm while he did the dishes and waited for you to wake. But you never joined him. You remained holed up in your room, miserable.

You didn’t care about Hydra; they couldn’t hurt you more than Bucky already had. Sure, they could beat you senseless and bleed you dry. They could torture you and hold you hostage. But it simply couldn’t compare. Physical injuries heal. They scab over and turn to scars. But the pain Bucky caused never ceased. The wound bled day and night. His mark on you could never be fixed.

Only when your hunger pangs grew painful did you leave the safety of your room.

“Hey, I made breakfast…” Bucky said when you finally emerged, “I tried to keep yours warm but- it’s in the fridge if you want it. I know it’s well past breakfast time and you probably don’t want cold spinach scramble and hashbrowns, but-”

He was being so nice;  he still remembered your favorite breakfast. You thought back on all the Sunday mornings you’d spent together, making breakfast and listening to music. Drinking coffee. Dancing in the kitchen until the food almost burned. But you banished the memories. And sent away the warm feelings brought on by Bucky cooking for you again.

You didn’t make eye contact, didn’t thank him. Instead, you rummaged through the cabinets until you found a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. “I’ll make something for myself,” you told him.

“Oh- okay, yeah. Knives are in the drawer to your left.” Bucky felt himself hovering. He stood across the kitchen island from you like an expectant child hoping for the approval of a stern parent. He knew he’d never get it, didn’t deserve it. But he couldn’t help himself. Being so close to you felt good. Really good. And though he’d promised he wouldn’t invade your space, he found it impossible to walk away.

You, however, couldn’t get away fast enough. You hastily made a sandwich and grabbed a glass of water before retreating to you room, safe from Bucky’s gaze. With the door shut, you allowed yourself to sink down to the floor. A gnawing sense of soul-crushing sadness eclipsed any feelings of hunger. But you forced the sandwich down anyway. You swore to yourself that everything would be okay, that you’d go home soon enough and try once again to heal.  

But you didn’t believe your own words.

Bucky hated how uncomfortable you were around him. It was his fault, and he knew it, but it made him sad all the same. At one time, he’d been the person you loved most. The person you  cared for. The one you could trust. You knew, without a doubt, that you could go to him with anything. Any problem, any worry- no matter how small. And he’d find a way to make it better. And if he couldn’t fix it, he could at least make you smile. He could bring you comfort and make you feel safe. Loved. He was the only one you wanted. The only person for you. His soul and yours were forged in the same fire- just a few decades apart.

But that fire was dead- snuffed out. And Bucky no longer held the secret key to your heart. He brought you only anguish and anxiety. Torment. Agony. And he hated himself for it.

He wondered if you’d spent all your time hiding in that bedroom. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. You weren’t happy around him like you used to be- why would you subject yourself to such unpleasant feelings unless it were absolutely necessary? He resolved to give you as much space as possible, to leave the room when you made your way to the kitchen. To not hover. Anything to make you more comfortable.

And if that meant that he didn’t get to speak to you for the remainder of your time in hiding, then so be it.

That night, however, he got to speak to you again.

He didn’t rest the night of your arrival, not even for a moment. And it finally got to him. He turned in early, falling asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. The last few embers glowed orange beneath the charred wood, but all warmth was gone. His sleeping form tossed and turned beneath a thin blanket. Droplets of sweat bloomed from his skin as heaving breaths forced their way into his chest.

A familiar sound woke you in the middle of the night. You hadn’t heard it in quite some time, but knew you’d never forget it. Bucky was having a nightmare. And before you had a moment to rethink your actions, you were up. You ditched your bedding and fled in the direction of his screams.

And he woke to the soft sound of your voice.

“Bucky, hey…” you placed your hands on his shoulders. “Hey, wake up. Bucky-”

His eyes flew open and quickly focused on your face. And though your presence brought a relief he hadn’t experienced in what felt like years, it was too late. His heart hammered against his ribs; his lungs burned. He couldn’t breathe.

“You’re okay. You’re alright. Here-” One of your hands migrated from his shoulder to his chest while the other searched for one of his. You dragged his hand upward and mirrored the placement, pressing his palm to your sternum. It was muscle memory, a deep-seeded reflex you didn’t know you still had. You used to do it every night- back when Bucky was still yours. He liked it. He said it made him feel like you were synching your heartbeat with his. And it always calmed him down.

Bucky let loose a deep sigh of relief. It seemed to come from somewhere else completely, like he’d been holding his breath since the last time he touched you. Your pulse beat strong and steady beneath his hand, thudding against his palm like his own personal metronome. And maybe it was all in his head, but he felt his own heartrate slow. He breathed easier. A smile pricked at the corners of his mouth.

But you pulled away all too soon.

Bucky sat up in pursuit of your recoiling hand, “Thank you…”

“Yeah.” You stood, hoping to make it back to your room before the tears began to fall. But Bucky’s words stopped you.

“I really- I really appreciate you waking me. And doing… that. For me.” He felt himself growing sheepish, but couldn’t let the encroaching embarrassment get the best of him. “I missed it- I missed you.”

Something in you snapped.

You turned toward him with a strange mixture of anger and pain burning behind your eyes, your breathing growing ever sharper.

“Why am I here?” Your tone was calm, measured. It was the kind of rage that turned your words to ice. To stone.

He cocked his head to the side, “um, because of Hydra. Because you’re in danger…”

“But why am I here?” You felt yourself losing control, “You heard they were going after the team’s loved ones and you thought to yourself, ‘hmm, that girl I completely destroyed, that girl whose life I ruined, that girl who I most certainly do not love, that girl I left for no reason, she’s in danger! Hydra will probably go after her, you know, since I haven’t seen her or spoken to her in almost a year!’”

Bucky didn’t know what to say.

“This makes no fucking sense, James!”

James. You’d let one or two ‘Buckys’ slip earlier- never again.

“Why did you come to my apartment? Why did you fucking kidnap me and bring me to this stupid house? Why did you put me on the same tier as Tony’s wife? As Clint’s wife? We aren’t together, I’m not in your life, and I’m certainly not a ‘loved one’- you made that painfully clear.  Why did you-”

“Because I still love you”

You rolled your tear-filled eyes, “Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying…” Bucky sighed. “I swear on my life.”

An ugly scoff broke free from your throat, “I’m supposed to believe that? You once ‘swore on your life’ that you’d never hurt me. And that shit clearly wasn’t true, so-”

“I swear on Steve’s life. I swear on his grave,” Bucky’s voice wavered ever so slightly. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

It rendered you speechless.

“I never wanted to hurt you. And I didn’t want to leave. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

You stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “You ‘didn’t know what else to do’? You left me because you ‘didn’t know what else to do’?”

Bucky shook his head. Regret pooled in his chest, and he wished to take back every stupid word. “That’s not what I meant-” he sighed. “I mean… I’m- I’m not meant for this. To be with someone. To be loved. Bad stuff- really bad stuff- follows me around. The war and the train and Hydra and Zemo and Thanos and the blip and the Flag Smashers and-”

He fought to catch his breath. “I break things. Anything I touch- it gets ruined.” He paused for a moment. Everything inside his head moved too fast. It blurred past him and fell from his lips before he had a chance to make edits. And if he was going to fix this, he needed to be in control.

“I never wanted to break you. Or put you in danger.”

“You never hurt me- physically…” you said. “You know I was never scared of you- I didn’t think I was ever in danger with you. I didn’t think you’d break me-”

“No, I know. I know.” Getting to that point had been hard for him. He shied away from you for so long, scared he’d somehow make you bleed or paint your skin with bruises. But you’d worked with him. You showed him patience and moved at his pace, working through the fear he held.

“What I mean is… I got scared because people knew about us. Our relationship was public. And I was afraid that putting you in the public eye like that would invite danger. A lot of people hate me- they want revenge. Retribution. So I thought…” he rolled his eyes at his past-self, at the version of him who let you get away. “I thought removing myself from your life would ensure your safety.” He shrugged, “no one would have reason to come after you if we weren’t together-”

“And look where we are now…” you said, “Hiding. In a safehouse. Because my life is in jeopardy.” Part of you- the soft side- wanted to show him mercy. To hold him and make him feel safe. To console him. But the side of you who wore brass knuckles and steel toed bootsa prevailed, “That was a really fucking stupid thing to do…”

Bucky gave a pained chuckle, “yeah, I- I know.” His cheeks reddened ever so slightly, and his shoulders slumped with shame. He knew he fucked up. “I’m sorry. About all of it. About leaving. About hurting you- God, I never wanted to hurt you.” The pain in his eyes could’ve made you crumble.

“And I’m sorry about putting you in harm’s way. About abducting you like this.” He took a small step in your direction; he couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t drawn to you. But he knew he had no right to exist in such close proximity to the person he hurt. And so he stopped himself, no matter how badly he wished he didn’t have to.

“But to answer your question with full honesty…” he said,  “you’re here because I love you. Because I’ll always love you. And even though you hate my guts- which you absolutely should- I care about you. And I want to keep you safe, as safe as I can. I want to protect you.” He let out a sigh, “And I know you’re not… you’re not mine to protect, but-” The words tasted like vinegar. If Bucky thought hearing them hurt, he was wrong. Saying them was far worse. “you’re here because I would rather die than let anything happen to you.”

He didn’t like the way your shoulders were yanked up near your ears, the way your arms sat crossed over your chest- like you were trying to protect yourself. But he understood. He’d hurt you- badly. Left you gutted and bleeding. He knew you’d never trust another thing he said- rightfully so.

Silent tears flowed freely down your cheeks and dripped down your neck. The weight of Bucky’s words forced you to lean against the nearest wall. Everything your friends said about him, everything your family told you- it was wrong. He wasn’t apathetic. He wasn’t inconsiderate or manipulative. He was just misguided- maybe a little stupid.

“I told myself…” you finally said, “for months, I told myself that you never loved me. That you used me to make yourself feel better.”

Bucky vehemently shook his head, “that’s not-”

“What was I supposed to do? I needed something to make me feel better…” you said. “It was easier to think that you never loved me. But you left me because you loved me? That’s- that was a terrible idea, by the way.”

“I know…”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded from your eyes and left droplets on your shirt. “I want… I want to believe you. I want to believe every nice thing you just said and pick up right where we left off. But I’m…” You pulled the sleeves of your shirt over your hands and wiped the tears from your cheeks, “I’m scared- I’m scared to trust you again. To let my guard down.”

Bucky took another small step in your direction. “That’s fine, that’s… understandable- more than understandable. Smart.”

You nodded.

“And I don’t want you to think- I’m not telling you all of this to convince you to get back together with me. Or to upset you- I never want to hurt you again. You just deserve to know the truth. So…”

He wondered how the two of you got to this point. How you went from domestic bliss to something so ugly. But he knew exactly how it happened- it was his fault. And he didn’t deserve a second chance. He deserved to be alone for the rest of his life while you moved on, found someone new- someone better. He wanted that for you. Of course, he’d rather have you all to himself. But it wasn’t right.

“It’s just- I’ve been regretting… well, everything, since the moment I left. I wish I would’ve talked to you, you know? I wish I was honest. I wish I told you what was going on inside my head.” He ran a hand through his hair, “maybe things would’ve been different.”

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say these things…” you said. “But now that you’re saying them it feels…” The floor rocked beneath your feet. You teetered to the side and reached for the arm of the couch- it was all too much. The lack of sleep, the emotional exhaustion, the weight of Bucky’s words. You needed to sit.

Bucky reached for you, desperate to help you steady yourself- but he pulled away. He didn’t have permission to touch you. Not anymore.

“Things absolutely would’ve been different,” you let out a deep sigh. Every possible outcome you came up with ended far better than the reality. “Because we would’ve worked through it together. As a team. And no one would’ve gotten hurt.”

All Bucky could do was nod.

“And maybe we’d still end up in this safe house, but we’d probably use it as a makeshift romantic getaway instead of an agonizingly awkward prison sentence.”

The thought brought a smile to Bucky’s face, to yours. It was easy to imagine the two of you camped out in the living room, reading by the fire and drinking old-fashioneds. You’d stay up late watching movies together and sleep until noon. And when the threat was eliminated, you’d almost wish for more danger- anything to keep the two of you in your own little world.

Everything went quiet. Neither of you knew what to say- or if there were any words appropriate for the situation. Was there even anything else to be said? Part of you wanted to retreat to your bedroom. To hide under your covers. But you wouldn’t allow yourself to squander this moment.

A sad smile pulled at your lips. “I don’t know where… where are we supposed to go from here?” You stared at Bucky as though he had all the answers, as though it wasn’t him who burned your world to the ground.

“I don’t think we have to go anywhere,” he said. “Nothing has to change between us- like I said, I’m not trying to change your opinion about me or make you feel bad. When this whole thing blows over, I’ll take you home. I’ll stay out of your hair.” He leaned against the wall opposite you, submitting to his future- and to his past, “I know I can’t change what I did.”

Another long silence filled the space. It pushed its way in between the two of you and rested heavy against your chest. Bucky waited for a curt ‘okay’ or a quick ‘goodnight’, but no such thing came.

“What if I don’t want that?” you said after a while.

He pushed away from the wall, as though your words pulled him upright. “What?”

“What if I want to try again?” Your heart thundered against your chest, growing faster and faster with each passing second.  You stood on the precipice, willing yourself to fall. This was your chance, the opportunity you’d hoped for. And though it sent fear coursing through your veins, you knew you had to jump.

“No matter how many times I tell myself that you hurt me for the fun of it or that you never actually loved me, I don’t believe it. I can’t- even if I want to…” you let out a sad laugh. “Because I know who you are- I know what we had was real. And I think- I know it’s worth trying again.”

A quick flash of pain and anxiety tore through you, hollowing your chest, “And yeah, maybe I’m stupid for being overly optimistic or letting myself be vulnerable with you. But I’m… I’m willing to risk getting hurt all over again.”

Bucky stood stone still, rooted in place. This was all he’d ever wanted. But now that he had it, he feared the thing his heart desired most. What if he fucked up again? What if he hurt you again? What if he squandered his  second chance?

“Are you…” Bucky took a deep breath, “are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Because you’re the only person I’ll ever want, Buck. Because I love you.”

Bucky never thought he’d hear those words again. And before he knew it, he was on the ground in front of you. He sunk to his knees, incapable of standing any longer. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His tears dampened your skin as he let his head fall against your thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he possible could. He feared you’d change your mind, that you’d take back everything you said. And if you did, he at least wanted to know that he held you. That he touched you one last time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry- you have no idea how sorry I am”, he said between sharp breaths. “I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna make it all up to you, okay? I promise. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you that I love you, that I’d rather die than lose you again. And I’m-”

“Okay, hey… let’s relax a bit.” You met him on the floor and pulled his head against your chest. You ran a hand along his back, soothing him. His shaky breaths were so sharp, so ragged, that they seemed almost painful. “Breathe, Buck. I love you, okay? And I know you love me- I know. You don’t have to prove it.”

Bucky tried to deliver a rebuttal, but you wouldn’t allow it.

“Hey- it’s okay. We’re okay.” You tangled your fingers in his hair, eliciting a deep sigh from his chest. “We’re both tired. And emotional. Let’s just go to sleep, okay? It’s the middle of the night- we can talk things through in the morning.” You gently pulled his head from your chest and swiped the tears from his cheeks. Touching him again, holding him, provided the salve you needed. The wound in your chest started healing. The pain ceased. And for the first time in almost a year, you felt whole.

Your hands found Bucky’s and pulled him up right. With a gentle tug, you led him in the direction of your room.

“Come on,” you said, “let’s go to bed, baby.”

--------------------------------------

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality  @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl l @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie  @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll  @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions​ @lokisasgardianvampirequeen​ @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem@avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky​

#bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky whump #bucky angst #Bucky Barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x yn #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #Bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes whump #whump

[lostgirlmuseum]

Solitary Confinement

Prompt: Febuwhump Day 2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (gender not specified)

Words: 462

Warnings: Mentions of death, small space, pretty much whatever solitary confinement suggests

A/N: Sorry it's so short, and lacking a lot of Bucky. I just wanted to get the ball rolling to see if I can still write lol. Lemme know if there is a specific prompt/day you'd like me to do

Prompt List Here

Decay. That was the only word you could think of. 

There were no windows in your cell. No cracks to let the light in. You were submerged in darkness. You had a small toilet right next to the thin mattress on the floor. If you needed the toilet, you had to stumble blindly to find it. The only upside to the small room was that you never had to stumble far to find what you needed. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in there. When they had first thrown you in there, you counted the meals in order to keep track of the days. But it didn’t take you long to realize that the meals weren’t served at the same time, let alone every day. 

You were dead.

You were dead, you had to be. You were sure of it.

You were dead, and living your afterlife in this void of mildew and decay.

At first it was cold, so fucking cold, but now you didn’t even shiver. You didn’t have the energy. Rigor mortis had begun to set in, your stiff muscles chaining you to the damp concrete ground where you had laid for your entire death. 

You couldn’t feel—

You couldn’t feel.

You just stared into the black just as you had done for the entire two weeks, months—god, had it been years? 

You couldn’t even remember how you’d gotten here in the first place. 

There was no before, and there is no after. You are bones. You are ash. You are decay.

And without warning: light.

Light?

Everything was blurry, you couldn’t make out the picture in front of you. You cowered back, curling in on yourself to protect yourself from the inevitable beating. 

One rough and one cool hand met your back. They felt familiar, from a time so distant that you couldn’t believe it was real. 

A frantic voice penetrated your ears, but you couldn’t make out the words. It was just noise.

Bucky hovered over you, tears falling from his eyes as he witnessed you. He wanted to tell you that he found you, he never stopped looking, that he was going to get you home. But the only word he could form was your name, leaving his lips countless times. It was a question, it was fact, it was a prayer and a plea. 

He brushed his thumb over your cracked lips and pulled your body into his. You didn’t fight him, but you didn’t welcome him either. Did you even recognize him?

Bucky held you so close that he couldn’t see the wobble of your mouth as you tried and struggled to speak. 

Finally, your dry and fractured voice rang, “Bucky.”

#febuwhump #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky blurb #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky whump #bucky hurt/comfort #bucky barnes angst

[questionableratatouille00]

Basements and other HYDRA Bullshit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: All was going well until your Boyfriend’s past comes back to haunt him.

Note: Day five of @ailesswhumptober2023! (Hostage/Kidnapping/Held at gunpoint.)

Warnings: Cursing, guns, knives, violence, blood, injuries, Winter Soldier topics. (Torture, murder, etc.)

—————————————————————————

The room felt like it was spinning as you felt warm blood drip down the side of your face. The knife slash to your temple had seemed more of a minor inconvenience at the time, but you now wished you’d stopped to at least quickly bandage it.

“So, you think you can take away the words and you’ll be free? Hm?” The accent of the man speaking was strong, and you knew he was addressing Bucky rather than you.

“The Winter Soldier is gone.” You hissed, not even sparing a glance at Bucky. You couldn’t handle it and you knew it, too.

“The words were only one way to activate HYDRA’s greatest weapon. We have others.” The man grinned devilishly, and it made your stomach flip.

“You’re gonna leave him alone.” Growling as you said this, you tried to force yourself forward. The chains around your wrists bound you to the walls of the dark, cold, and unwelcoming cell you were in.

“You are not in control here!” He rushed out the words as he barked them. He completed his sentence by raising his hand, ready to backhand you across the face. “I am!” He sounded erratic, and absolutely deranged.

“Don’t touch her.” Bucky’s voice was low, and dark.

“Or what?” The man spat, grinning. “What are you going to do about it?” He pulled a small red book from his pocket.

You couldn’t really recognize what the book was, but you knew it was significant. It matched the description of a book Bucky had told you about, the one that haunted him in his dreams and in his flashbacks.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Bucky glared at the man defiantly, and you attempted to copy his expression.

“You can try. But you are a dog, and this is your leash!” He waved the book in front of Bucky’s face, taunting him.

“Who the hell are you?” You asked finally.

“You should ask your companion this. Tell me, Soldat, do you remember her? Do you remember my daughter?” He barked.

You could feel your own heart sink, and with one glance at Bucky, you knew he was feeling the same thing. “Buck, who is this?”

“Victor Rostov.” He stated. “His daughter’s name is—“

“Was. Her name was Alina! She was eight. Eight years old, and you shot her in the head! You’re nothing but a monster! A monster!” Rostov howled as he raged.

“It wasn’t his fault!” You shouted at him. You didn’t want Bucky to have to hear any of this.

“She died at his hands!”

“HYDRA called for no survivors, right? They wouldn’t target a child.” You tried to reason. You didn’t want to think about how they totally would target a child.

“She’d be twenty eight! My daughter, my little girl, will never be able to live. And he can’t even fucking remember her?” Rostov’s voice was filled with pain, and you could tell that she meant a lot to him.

“I remember all of them.” Bucky admitted grimly.

“You deserve to die, monster. And so you shall.” He clicked a gun in his pocket, raising it to Bucky’s forehead.

“Hey! Hey, let’s talk about this.” You gasped, ready to beg. Rostov could hurt you all he wanted, but not Bucky. He couldn’t take Bucky from you.

You panted as blood dripped from your temple onto the ground, making a tiny little puddle. It made you feel sick, just seeing it.

“Why shouldn’t I—“ A loud gunshot rang out through the cell, or really the small basement you were being kept in. You shrieked, tears immediately rushing to your eyes as you screamed.

“Bucky! Bucky! Bucky, no! No!” You sobbed, as Rostov fell to the floor.

“It’s us! It’s us!” A few familiar voices shouted. Natasha, Steve, and Tony.

“It’s not me! It’s not me!” Bucky reassured you at the same time as you wailed.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You sobbed. “I thought you got shot. I thought you got shot.” You couldn’t seem to get enough air into your lungs, making your words, which were already mostly sobs, seem a bit breathy.

Steve and Natasha immediately rushed to the to of you, unchaining you from the walls. Tony stayed back in case anybody else was around.

“Not shot there.” Bucky tried to make you feel better, but the truth was that Rostov had shot him in the thigh before he’d died. The two of you were safe, and that was all that mattered.

—————————

“What he said..about the monster thing. It’s not true.” You said as you got to work on patching up Bucky’s thigh.

“Not so sure about that, dollface.”

“It’s not.” You glanced up at him, before looking back down at his thigh. “Promise.”

“If you say so.” He sighed, accepting defeat here. You nodded once, getting ready to bandage the wound.

“I do say so.” After a long pause, you continued. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’ve been through worse. I’ll live.”

“I didn’t ask if you’ll live. I asked if you’ll be okay.”

“I will be okay.” He laughed every so lightly, and you smiled.

He would be okay. And so would you.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Whump #bucky x reader angst

[aragorn-my-love]

Amidst the hells of the Stalag camp, Bucky and Buck cling to each other for solace, never straying far from each other.

But their fragile sanctuary is shattered when a German General takes a keen liking to Bucky and forcibly takes him from Buck’s desperate arms.

Despite Bucky's struggle, he is overpowered and swiftly whisked away by General Klaus, leaving Buck behind.

Will Bucky remain strong enough for Buck to find him before it’s too late, or will the General break him?

#fanfic #fanfiction #buck x bucky #bucky x buck #clegan #gale x john #mota #mota fanfic #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #bucky egan #my fic #writing #Bucky Whump

[lavenderpanic]

New chapter of I Am Ash From Your Fire up now!

#bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #stevebucky #fanfiction #captain america #catws #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #winterbones #winterbones fanfic #htp #hydra trash party #brock rumlow #bucky barnes whump #bucky whump #iaafyf #i am ash from your fire

[anamelessdragon]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 1 | A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY | 1.3k

by NamelessDragon (@anamelessdragon)

Whumptober Masterlist

_____________________

Prompts: Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints

Primary Whumpee(s): Bucky

Summary: Pre-TFATWS. After being arrested, Bucky is given the chance for release from prison, provided he accepts the application of a control collar. The first night with it does not go well.

___________________

Author’s Note: “Concept Fic” Teaser for a fic I will eventually write that is basically “TFATWS but with Bucky in a government-issued shock/control collar.” I have...the ENTIRE THING outlined. This part may or may not be canon for the upcoming fic, which will start completely differently.

Pairings/Characters: Bucky 

Warnings: Captivity, collars, electrocution

__________________

The collar wasn’t big. Ten millimeters wide, at most. 

They had him sign papers for it. He’d pressed metal fingers to gently pin each page to the flimsy fold out table they’d brought in for the occasion, along with extra guards that positioned themselves equidistantly around him. He didn’t look up as he used his right hand to sign his name, the date. His initials, JBB. Over and over. The scratch of the pen was loud even compared to the hum of the energy field outside his cell.

General Ross watched him fill the contract with his arms folded. “You’ll want to steer clear of handling the device with your vibranium limb,” he said, as if Bucky hadn’t already read that in the papers outlining the specifics. “If the calibration sessions show promise, we can release you to the general public. After that, you’ll have relative freedom unless your attendance is required for a mission.”

He stood placidly as a guard brought the collar over, pulling back his hair when ordered so it could be firmly placed against his neck; when the metal pinched sharply at his skin as it locked shut, he didn’t react. It pressed harder into his throat when he swallowed. He only let his hair fall back down when they gave him the go ahead.

General Ross watched him carefully, his phone in his hand. He gazed down at the screen and then back to the collar a few times, then nodded in satisfaction as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “The tests should take about two weeks. Assuming everything goes well.”

Translation: if everything didn’t go well, he wasn’t getting out of here. Here being some black site they’d taken him to after Steve had left.  

He’d thought he was going to spend the rest of his life in a windowless room beneath the ground, if he didn’t just end up quietly executed. He’d later learned that he hadn’t been in custody for more than half an hour before a detailed deprogramming and rehabilitation report from the Wakandan Design Group and cosigned by Princess Shuri and King T’Challa had made its way to General Ross’s desk.

So he’d been given this shot. With conditions. The biggest one being the piece of metal sitting snugly around his neck.

The guards moved back from him. He kept his hands at his sides, unmoving as he watched them gather up the collar’s case and the paperwork, and the table that had come with them.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Ross said. “Remember that if there are any adverse effects, anything that seems out of the ordinary, you’ll want to let either a technician or myself know as soon as possible so we can adjust the device.”

And each report would require more of a delay in his release as they tried to figure out how to fix the collar so it would work. That specific detail had also been in the papers he’d signed. Along with the fact that if he could get out and wait out five years without anything significant added to his record, he would be granted a full pardon, and full freedom.

But besides that… if he was let out, even with the collar, there would be times when his leash was long enough that he could begin to try and right some of the wrongs he’d made. 

They left him alone. He sat on the floor next to his cot, bright cell lights beaming down on his head and shoulders, ignoring the grip around his throat and staring at the locked door for the remainder of the evening.

He should have tried to sleep. It would have only made the time go faster. Once he was let out they were going to let him pick his city of residence, and pretty much whatever housing - within reason. Which meant by the end of this week, he was going to be looking at available options in Brooklyn. 

But there was a swelling burning feeling, somewhere behind his ribcage, that let him know trying to rest was pointless. They kept the cell too bright, anyway.

He didn’t touch the collar. The minutes continued to pass while he sat. At some point he let his head fall forward. He might have even closed his eyes, tired of the nonstop light burning into them. But he was only waiting.

It was then that he heard the buzzing for what would be the first time; quiet enough that maybe he wouldn’t have if he didn’t have supersoldier enhancements, or if the source of the sound had been located farther than a few inches beneath his ears. Around his neck. He pinched his brow, ready to pry open his eyes.

The shock that followed came so sudden and violent his entire body was seizing before his brain had even a chance to catch up with the pain. When it did, he felt everything - muscles spasming and cramping, his vibranium arm stiffening and going dead as the current interfered with its workings. He made a sound, a strangled noise that refused to be a scream, falling onto his side and then his back.

The current left him. He gasped in the aftermath, wide eyes seeing only the painfully bright white of the relentless bulbs above, a tremble wracking his frame. He could hear the collar still buzzing between intakes of breath. He reached up, touched it firmly with the fingers of his right hand. The skin around it burned.

“What the fuck?” he said, voice hoarse.

He moved to sit back up. The second his back lifted from the ground his body exploded in fire, hot coals searing into his throat as he collapsed back down, shuddering through the punishment, nerves screeching and muscles locked up.

The collar’s fury bled back into that low buzz. Bucky breathed and waited, copper sliding thick over his tongue and pooling into the back of his throat. The vibranium arm whirred as it reactivated, and he jerked his shoulder without bringing it off the ground, the slight movement too insufficient to reset it properly.

He stayed where he was, and the collar didn’t shock him again, just stayed a thin strip of metal, buzzing against his stinging throat. His heart pounded in a frantic rhythm, half his instincts telling him he had to get the device off, while the other half reminded him why he was here and what would happen if he did try.

He heard the buzzing for what it was, now. A warning. To do what? Was this one of the named adverse effects he was meant to report? Was it intentional? Were they just fucking with him?

He took a breath, then two, face setting in concentration. Then he tried to get up a third time. 

The collar took him back down, and this time, it didn’t stop for a while.

———-

“You look like shit, Barnes,” General Ross told him the next morning.

He was sitting on the cell’s cot, staring at the spot on the floor where he’d spent the majority of the night. The collar had finally stopped buzzing, just hours earlier. Enough time that the sweat on his skin had dried and the burns on his neck had started to fade. The sour swirl in his stomach had stayed with him.

He raised his eyes to General Ross. Didn’t bother answering. He had a suspicion he knew what this was, now.

“I’ve been told you didn’t touch any of your breakfast except for the coffee.” General Ross looked him up and down, brow furrowed in concern. “Anything to report?”

Bucky swallowed, throat less raw than it had been three hours prior. “No.”

“No?” Spoken again, intently. Knowingly.

Bucky was all too familiar with that kind of inspection. The way it felt to have someone looking at him, judging him. Waiting to see if he would break.

“No,” he repeated, face flat. 

Ross stared at him, impressed, then jerked his head in indication for Bucky to follow. “Then we’ll start the tests.”

Bucky exhaled through his stinging throat, steadily getting to his feet. Two weeks.

#fashionably posting this OVER TWO MONTHS LATE #just a little whumpy blurb #bucky whump #whumptober2022

[toxiclxki]

So I wrote a little something for someone I love a whole hecking much, and this is that. 

HOWEVER, more importantly, if you haven’t read Em’s own works yet, what are you waiting for? 

#my fic #gift fic #bucky whump #hurt/comfort #bucky barnes #sam wilson

[grandly-disfunctional]

Dear Princess: A Bucky Whump Royalty Fic

Grand Duke !Bucky x Princess !reader, Fem !Reader

bucky x reader royalty AU

A/N: I'm very sorry this is unedited and very rough but! serotonin is literally running rampant through my veins right now because of this, also there will be comfort to follow

warnings: Allusion to very hurt bucky, panic attack

The arrival was nerve wracking, and you had smoothed down your blue and gold ruffle dress many more times than you could count. It was a nervous habit that you had picked up in court. The ladies did it every time they announced another delay, another storm gotten in the way of the Grand Duke’s envoy on the way back home. The habit had worn off on you after all the announcements. It had almost been a year since you saw him.

Bucky was coming back home.

The ship had finally been seen at the royal port a couple hours ago, announced during a foreign trade meeting with princes and queens from countries who have long overstayed their welcome, also anticipating a glimpse of the goods traded with the sealed countries only Grand Duke Barns had a way of swindling into trade.

It was near impossible to keep your composure as you dismissed the meeting, telling the staff to ready his rooms and collect the gown you had picked out months ago for his original return. It would be awhile before the ship was unloaded and Bucky made it to the palace, but they needed the time to set up the arrival.

“Miss Y/N?” Peter said from his post, gently knocking on your door.

You took a deep breath, composed yourself to meet the envoy, and your love. “Yes Peter?” you opened your bedroom door, revealing the scurrying nobles as they attempted to collect themselves. They all took a second to steal a glance of their princess, especially in the gown you let no one see before he returned.

“Oh, uh sorry, but this dress looks gorgeous on you”

“Thank you,” you stepped over the threshold “is there news?”

He squirmed uncomfortably at the reminder of his call. “Yes, right”

Peter pulled out a small piece of parchment and handed it to you, delivering the message formally. “Captain said for your eyes only, but I'm allowed to tell you that there were uh, complications with some raiders and Grand Duke Barnes is headed to the palace medical wing at the moment.”

His words sounded distant and hazy as you broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The words were scrawled haphazardly across the page, in stark contrast to Bucky's elegant scripture. It must be the captain's handwriting.  

Dear princess,

I'm sorry I had to arrive like this. I'm making the captain write for me. We just called land ho, and the pain is unbearable. They did as much as they could on the ship, but they’re not saying anything good about me. They can only say that they Hope. 

I've never said this in front of anyone, but if I don't make it, I love you. I love you so much. I cannot bear the grief my death will cause you. 

I love you, James

As you finished reading, your surroundings came back into focus. The tears clouding your vision. Your hand firmly placed against the doorframe keeping you upright. The wrinkled paper in your hand. The concern in Peter’s voice.

“-Y/N? Are you alright?”

A lump welled up in your throat, making it almost impossible to speak, but you were able to shake your head

“Where’s Nat and Yelena?” you asked hoarsely.

“Yelena is, um, already in the medical wing, and Nat is in her room. Shall I fetch her?”

“Nat, yes. Don't bother Yelena, I’m going to go see Bucky.”

His tone was almost pleading, “Majesty, I must warn you-”

He gulped as you turned a little too forcefully.

He softened his tone as he spoke to the floor, “James, Dr. Bruce, Dr. Cho, and your mother Majesty Queen gave direct orders not to let you see him”

He must be gravely hurt then.

You stared at him in disbelief as more tears spilt over, and a sob broke loose from your throat. You had kept the excitement at bay well enough this morning, but everything collapsed. You sank down to the floor, bracing your back against the wall, senses dead to the world once again.

Part 2

#bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barns #bucky whump #bucky royalty au #royalty au #marvel #non canon compliant #hurt/comfort #royal!au #princess!reader #fem!reader #whump #oh yeah #my writing

[cherriontop]

Pleasant Dreams, My Love

Bad Things Happen Bingo @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Bridal Carry

Relationship: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

Tags: Canon compliant, post azzano, sick Bucky, Bucky whump, mentions of forced drug use, withdrawl, captain america steve rogers, I made it winter, so pretend that’s canon, good friend steve, a little delirious bucky, confused bucky, scared bucky, soft steve, no established relationship, but the feels are there, on both sides, hidden feelings, love int he middle of a war, ptsd

Summary:

After Steve “Captain America” Rogers rescues the 107 from Hydra’s clutches, Bucky falls ill on the way home. 

#badthingshappenbingo #marvel #mcu #stucky #steve/bucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #azzano #fanfic #ao3 #bingo #my writing #bucky whump #sick bucky #soft boys

[lostwhump]

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011)

#captain america the first avenger #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #sebastian stan #chris evans #sebstanedit #sebastianstanedit #buckybarnesedit #steverogersedit #whump #whumpedit #dailymarvelgifs #dailymarvelstudios #marvelgifs #marveledit #dailyavengers #mcufam #mcuedit

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

You Drew Stars Around My Scars | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi. This is some heavy shit, so please proceed with caution. Do not read this fic if you are made uncomfortable by any of the warnings.

Thanks <3

❌Warnings❌ Scars, blood, depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicidal ideation / attempt

“And what about this one?” Bucky asked, dragging his lips across one of your scars. It rested along your ribcage, drawing a sharp line into your skin. It wasn’t sensitive anymore, didn’t hurt like it used to. But Bucky’s lips assuaged any lingering discomfort.

You ran a finger over the raised tissue and let out a laugh.  “Oh, that was a huge misunderstanding, actually. Have you ever met that guy in the red suit? With the katanas?”

Bucky’s gaze left your scar and drifted up to your face. “Katanas? As in more than one katana?”

“Yeah! His name’s Wade… something,” you paused, struggling for the eccentric stranger’s name. “Wade Williams… or something like that. Anyway, yeah, he got me with one of his multiple katanas. But it was really just a communication issue- Hill sent me after him. SHIELD had basically no intel on the guy and it was assumed that he was a threat- but he’s on our side.”

Over the course of his life, Bucky had seen some strange things. Red Skull. Infinity Stones. A talking raccoon. But never a guy running around with a couple of katanas and bright red suit. “So, katana guy is a friend of ours?” 

“Yeah! And he’s actually pretty cool. A little weird. Very funny. Kind of a sarcastic asshole,” you laughed. “I think you’d like him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and brushed his lips over your scar once more. “I don’t know about that- he stabbed my best girl-”

“He didn’t stab me, per se…”

Bucky made a mental note to look into this Wade guy, see if he could be trusted. 

“Okay," you said, "it's your turn…” Another round of the game began.

For almost an hour, the two of you had laid in bed, asking about the other’s scars. You never dared ask Bucky about his scars or how he got them; their origins were too terrible to describe. If he decided to open up about them one day, that was his business. And you were more than happy to give him all the time and space he needed.

But it was Bucky who started the game. After you both came down from your post-sex euphoria, you decided to stay in bed. Kissing. Touching. Talking. Bucky ran his hand along a scar near your shoulder, the one he always noticed but knew nothing about. And though he didn’t want to hear tales of you getting hurt, he still held a curiosity about your life before him. He wanted every detail, every story. And so, he’d asked about the scar. And to his relief, it didn’t come from a knife or a gun- just a childhood game of tag that got out of hand. 

But his question opened the door. He promised he didn’t mind speaking about his scars- not to you. He argued that it was only fair. He asked you about yours- why shouldn’t you be allowed to ask about his? He wanted to share every detail of his life with you. The details he could remember, anyway. And so, the two of you went back and forth, asking the other for the stories behind your scars. 

Bucky learned more about you, and you him. But you didn’t bring up the massive ridge of twisted tissue on Bucky’s left side- you knew that story. And hearing it again would’ve gutted you. 

“Hmm…" your eyes drifted over Bucky's body, "how about…” 

There were too many to choose from. You hated how many options lay scattered across Bucky’s skin; each reminder of his past life spelled trauma, pain, abuse. But a new light seemed to flash in Bucky’s eyes each time he told you a story. He’d never let anyone tour his body like this. Had never opened up about all the vile things Hydra did to him. Each story unburdened him a bit more, helped him release the pain he’d been holding on to for so long. And you were more than happy to help shoulder the weight.

Your fingers ghosted along a jagged scar near his hip, “Okay, how about this one?”

“That one- that one is…” Bucky thought for a long, quiet moment. The holes in his memory acted like a sieve, draining most of his past life from his mind. You watched as he struggled, fought to remember this exact wound. His brow furrowed as he searched through the catalogue of his trauma. He flipped through page after mental page, reliving every instant of pain. And then, the light returned to his eyes. 

“Oh- I remember now. I got shot- and one of my handlers cut the bullet out while I was still in the field. Sewed it up- albeit, poorly.” He ran a finger along the uneven line of scar tissue, “And then they sent me after my target again. If I remember right, which I probably don’t…” He gave a sad laugh, “I’m pretty sure the stitches ripped almost instantly. I mean, maybe sixty seconds after he finished. So I just kinda bled until I took down my mark.”

“Jesus, baby…” Every story he told pulled you closer to his side. You wanted to cover him, to protect him from things that already happened. Things you couldn’t help or prevent. Every mention of his misery, every recollection of the abuse made you wish you’d met him sooner. Maybe you could’ve helped. Maybe you could’ve saved him.

You rested your head against his chest, willing the thoughts of Bucky’s pain to dissipate. But they refused to comply. And Bucky, always more concerned about your pain than his, took notice.

“Hey, I’m okay now,” Bucky curled a finger under your chin and tilted your face up toward his. “Don’t get sad on me, alright?” He shot you his biggest smile, ‘I’m just fine. And I’m here- with you.”

You gave him a solemn nod. “No, I know. I’m just… you didn’t deserve it, Buck. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He took your face in his hands and gazed into your big, sad eyes. He never thought he’d find someone like you- never thought he’d find someone, period. But you had a big heart, and you loved him with everything you had. You showed him how much you cared. Made him feel like he mattered. 

“I know that now. You helped me with that.”

A small smile pricked at the corners of your lips. You wanted to fix everything for him. Take away his pain, remedy his problems, shoulder the weight of his nightmarish past. But you couldn’t. And the helplessness it planted in you made your chest ache. But knowing you’d at least helped Bucky see himself differently eased a fraction of the pain.

“Alright, my turn!” Before you had a chance to think, Bucky was on top of you. He tickled and poked at your sides, shunning the sadness from your eyes. And when he was satisfied with your improved mood, he rested a hand on your thigh. The scar he selected rested above your knee, its border faded. “This one?”

“That’s from a burn,” you told him. “Explosion at a Hydra base- I got a lot of burns that day, actually.” As the memory of that day resurfaced, you ran a hand over where the searing pain used smolder under your skin, “All the others healed, this is the only one that scarred.”

Bucky swept his thumb over it a few times, as though trying to ease your past pain. 

You sat up, coming face to face with Bucky. The scar you had your eye on was something you wondered about often. And now that you had permission to ask, you ran you lips over the mark. “What about this one?” The long scar ran along the side of his neck, beginning a few inches above his clavicle. It traveled horizontally, nearly reaching the back of his neck. “And this one?” And identical scar rested just on the other side, the two marks mirror images of one another.

After so many rounds of this game, Bucky didn’t seem to mind telling these stories. But when your attention landed on these particular scars, he didn’t want to play anymore. He wanted you to know everything about him- just not this. But what choice did he have? He could lie to you. He could make up a story. He could refuse to tell you the truth. But whatever he decided, he knew he’d regret it. 

It wasn’t fair to keep things from you. Bucky swore from day one to always be honest with you- and you did the same. But this truth only served to hurt you. The pain in your eyes when he told you about his gunshot wound and the resulting torn stitches cut him deep. But that story was nothing compared to the source of the scars on his neck. He knew how crushed you’d be when he gave you the real story. And though he never wanted to lie to you, he found himself pulling an explanation out of thin air.

“They’re from, um…” he cleared his throat, already regretting his lie. “They’re from restraints. They put me in this, I don’t know what you’d call it- I guess a… collar-type thing. Made of metal. Really tight. It dug into my skin. They used it to, uh, to chain me to a wall.” Part of Bucky believed his own lie. He thought for a silent moment- did this really happen? Was his attempt at a fabricated story actually a buried memory? For Hydra, such a punishment sounded plausible. But after several seconds, he determined it false.

Your mind went blank, only to suddenly overflow with images of Bucky in chains. Sharp metal cutting into his skin. His blood pouring down his body and pooling on the floor. The sound of rattling chains mixed with his screams and echoed inside your skull. 

“I don’t wanna play this game anymore…” was all you could manage to say through the sudden tears and tightness in your chest. You hid your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, your breath fanning the very scar about which you regretted inquiring. 

Bucky’s arms wrapped around you in an instant, pulling you as close as he could. Your shallow, shaky breaths rattled against his hand as he smoothed it along the length of your back. He saw the effect his lie had on you, the way it ripped chunks out of your heart. But the real story was worse- far worse- and as he held your shaking form against his chest, he swore to never tell you the truth.

“Just breathe for me, doll. Big deep breaths, okay?” He soothed you, helped free you from the crushing sadness. But when it cleared, a wave of guilt took you out at the knees. This wasn’t right. 

“Wait, no-” you pulled your face from his neck. “This is so fucked up, oh my god. I’m so sorry, Buck. You shouldn’t be comforting me- it should be the other way around. I didn’t mean to-”

How did Bucky ever find someone like you? Someone who cared for him so deeply, loved him more than he ever thought possible? He hated that he’d upset you, that he’d started this stupid game. But part of him liked knowing how much you cared. 

“Sweetheart, please don’t apologize. You’re just... you're reacting to new information. That memory is something I’ve gotten used to, it’s part of my past, so… it doesn’t bother me anymore.” Bucky knew damn well it didn’t bother him because it simply wasn’t true. The real source of his scar bit at him every day. But you didn’t have to know that. “Hey, you love me- which is unbelievable, by the way- and so hearing stories like that upsets you. Being sad about it is totally normal.”

You wiped at your eyes with the backs of your hands, “feels selfish.”

“It’s not.” A sudden laugh rumbled out of his chest, “if you weren’t upset, I think we’d have more to worry about.”

His joke was met with an eye roll and a small laugh. He wasn’t wrong. You cared so deeply for him that even imagining his past pain brought you to tears. Never had you loved someone the way you loved him. And though you dealt with your own pain and traumatic memories, you wanted more than anything to take all of Bucky’s. You wanted to steal any ounce of residual pain and every nightmare inducing memory, leaving him only with peace.

“I love you a lot,” you said. “And I’m so- I’m so sorry for everything you went through. You never should’ve suffered like that.”

Bucky’s forehead met yours in a moment of quiet. No one ever acknowledged his pain, his trauma. They talked about his kills, the blood on his hands. They talked about his pardon- the pardon that, according to you, he “never should’ve needed”. Because nothing he did as the Winter Soldier was by choice. He was a victim, a prisoner of war. But everyone conveniently left that part out. They regarded him as either “the winter soldier” or the “pardoned war criminal”, never the hero, the abused, the broken.

“Thank you,” he whispered. And he meant it.

The two of you sat there for a few long moments, reveling in the other’s presence. But Bucky’s growling stomach broke the silence. He locked eyes with you in an apologetic glance that quickly devolved into a storm of laughter.

“I’m guessing you want dinner?”

“You could say that…” Bucky shrugged. “But I made you cry, so I want you to pick.”

“Buuuuck-”

He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to listen to your protests. “From this moment on, the rule in this house is: whoever who caused the other to cry must let the crier choose dinner, and must deal with the cuisine consequences.”

“Cuisine consequences? Did you just make that up?”

Bucky gave a proud nod, “yup”. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and grabbed your laptop from the nightstand, offering it to you. “Pick a place, doll. Whatever you want.”

Nearly an hour later, the two of you sat camped out on the couch. A spread of take-out lay strewn across the coffee table, half demolished. And while it was Bucky whose hunger signaled dinner, he didn’t eat much. You’d decided on take out from your favorite barbecue place, knowing Bucky loved their brisket almost as much as he loved you. But his mood seemed to deflate as he pushed his food around his plate.

He wasn’t devouring his brisket like usual. And his side dishes went almost untouched. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” You paused the tv and turned to Bucky, “You’ve been quiet- you barely touched your food. Is everything alright?”

Bucky gave a small nod.

Guilt grabbed you by the throat. He wasn’t okay- and you knew it stemmed from the memory he recalled for you. The restraints, the collar. The thought of it made you shudder. 

“Buck, if this is about earlier- about the story you told me- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t know where the scars came from, I never would’ve asked if I…” you took a deep breath, easing the shaky quality in your voice. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no-” he set his plate on the table and turned to you, “it’s not like that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It was just like Bucky to swear you were perfect, that you never did anything wrong. But you knew better. You knew he’d been forced to dig up some deep, soul-crushing trauma when you asked about the scars on his neck. You knew he was hurting- and it was your fault.

“Buck, if I upset you, you can tell me-”

“You didn’t. I swear.” He took your hands in his and dropped his gaze. “But I lied to you. About the scars on my neck. And I feel really bad about it.”

It certainly wasn’t what you expected. “Oh… okay.”

In a panic, Bucky dragged his eyes back to yours, “I know that we always tell each other everything, but I just didn’t-”

“Buck, that’s not a rule. You aren’t required to tell me every single thing that’s ever happened to you or every thought you’ve ever had. You’re entitled to your privacy." You gave his hand a squeeze, "I just want you to know that you can tell me everything- nothing’s off limits- but you don’t have to. I know you’ve been through a lot of really dark shit. And if you wanna tell me every detail, I’m all ears. But if you’re not ready, that’s more than okay. It’s okay if you’re never ready- you don't ever have to tell me if you don't want to. I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Oh…” Bucky took a moment to think about what you said. He liked the way you phrased it, the way you were open to everything he had to say without demanding he say anything at all. If he wanted to talk, you’d listen. And if he didn’t, you’d be there, regardless.

“Whatever happened- however you got those scars- you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s all your choice.”

He considered skipping out on the entire venture. He could tell you the collar was a lie without giving you the real story, and everything would be fine. You’d respect his boundaries- he knew that. But the source of those scars was such a turning point in his life, such a defining moment. And to skip out on sharing it with you felt wrong. It was a pivotal time in his life that changed his path- and inadvertently led him to you. 

“I want to tell you…” he said after a long, quiet moment. “It’s a pretty significant part of my story, and I want you to know everything about me, you know? I just- I don’t want to upset you again.”

“Buck, it’s okay-”

Bucky gave a sad shake of his head. “I made you cry earlier, doll. And that story wasn’t that bad, it wasn't even true-”

You took his face in your hands, silencing him. “If you wanna tell me, I wanna listen. I mean, I obviously hate that these things happened to you- that you suffered so much. But if it’s part of your story, I wanna know.”

Bucky let his eyes fall shut as he thought it over. Memories of the darkest time in his life rushed forward, nearly drowning him. But your touch kept him afloat. It kept him safe, warm. With you by his side, he found the strength to wade back into the depths of his memory.

“It was after I escaped…” he finally said. He took your hands from his face and held them tight, anchoring himself to the present. “I didn’t know what to do, you know? I didn’t know who or where I was. I was lost.” A faraway look left his eyes hollow, lifeless. “I had to figure out how to reclaim my mind and my body. I spent days holed up, hiding, reading about the things I’d done. And it made me sick.” He shifted in his seat. A familiar sense of dread and nausea sat like a rock in his stomach. 

“I was disgusted. I hated the serum. I hated the Winter Soldier- I hated myself. I didn’t wanna be this anymore, you know? I was given the same serum as Steve, but I wasn’t good Like Steve. I turned into a monster.” He paused. It took far too much effort to pull air into his lungs. He knew the suffocating sensation well, the feeling of choking on his own agony. 

“And for a while I thought it corrupted me, that it changed who I was. I blamed the serum. But then I had this epiphany one day…” He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the ground. He couldn’t look at you. “The serum just amplifies who and what you are, you know? They gave it to Steve because he was a good person, because he had a good heart. And he became a hero. But I…” 

The shame threatened to eat him alive. He’d worked so hard to change the way he viewed himself. And with your help, he no longer saw a monster in the mirror. But taking a trip down memory lane reminded him of his capacity for evil. “I became a killer. And it made me think- maybe I always had that darkness in me. Maybe my soul wasn’t pure enough.”

You curled a finger under his chin and lifted his head, bringing his eyes to yours. “Baby, you were brainwashed. Tortured. They wiped your mind- all your memories. They took away your sense of self and rebuilt you in their image. The things you did weren’t because of an impure soul or deep-seeded evil. And they had nothing to do with the the serum. If the roles were reversed, Steve just as easily could’ve become the Winter Soldier.”

That sounded almost blasphemous to Bucky.

“You’re a product of circumstance, Buck.”

He wasn’t sure he could digest your words. Only a few hours ago, he would’ve known without a doubt that you were right. He would’ve agreed and easily shrugged himself out of the darkness. But sinking back into the headspace from the days after his escape left him shaken.

He pulled his eyes down to the floor once again, unblinking. Unfocused. And though he felt lost in a different time, he refused to submit to the pain. He traced the same pattern on the back of your hand over and over, searched for peace in the sound of your breathing. Anything to keep him anchored in the present.

A deep need to diffuse the situation rattled inside you. You wanted to tell him that he could stop, that the two of you could return to this conversation after he ate. Or after a good night’s sleep. Or that he could abandon the story all together and never speak about it again. But just as you decided to speak up, words tumbled out of his mouth.

“I wanted the serum out of my body.” He finally met your gaze. Something in his eyes semmed frantic, helpless. “I thought that getting rid of it would turn me back to my old self- I know that’s stupid. But I was desperate. So, I started, um…” 

He couldn’t believe he was telling you this story. It was dark, shameful. Revealing his lowest moment to the person he cared about most- the person whose opinion mattered more than anyone else’s- suddenly seemed like terrible idea. It felt like a surefire way to scare you away, to convince you that he was far more damaged than you could ever repair.

But didn’t you deserve the truth? Didn’t you deserve to know who you slept next to at night, who you committed your life to? Bucky respected you more than anyone. And keeping secrets didn’t feel right. He needed to give you his authentic self, offer himself to you without hiding his darkness. Only then could he know that you loved all of him.

He screwed his eyes shut and yanked his shoulders up to his ears as though bracing for impact. And then, he set the truth free. “I started making myself bleed- I thought I could bleed the serum out of my body.” The admission lifted a weight from his chest he didn’t know he was carrying. Air rushed into his lungs and granted him his first deep breath of the evening.

He opened his eyes slowly, fearing your reaction. But you simply nodded and allowed him to continue. You provided him with a safe place to land as he jumped off the proverbial cliff. “I started making cuts into my skin every day, but the serum was…” he sighed, “the serum healed them too quickly- they’d always vanish.”

He eyed you again, waiting for a look of disgust or disapproval. But no such look came. You just stroked your fingers over his knuckles. Gave his hand a squeeze. You gave him the time and the space he needed to breathe. To think.

“And one day- I don’t know, I got fed up. The desperation and the anxiety and the fear- it was too much. It all got to me at once. And I wanted the serum out.” His grip on your hand tightened as the flashbacks pulled him under. “I dug my knife into my neck. I ripped the skin open on both sides- I wanted to sever every blood vessel I could. I figured that the more blood I lost, the faster the serum would leave my body. The sooner I'd return to who I was before.”

You nodded. An almost violent sadness vibrated in your chest, but you wouldn’t dare set it free. Not yet anyway. You kept it caged, allowing it to tear and thrash and bite at your insides. Bucky was sure to clam up if he saw just how gutted you were. How heartbroken. And so, you kept your composure. You remained calm. This was his time. 

And when he'd said everything he needed to say and purged every dark memory of those scars, you’d let yourself fall apart. But only then.

“And then things got all fuzzy. Hazy. From the blood loss. And I collapsed. I laid on the floor, watching the red pool around me. And I realized…” He took a deep breath. Why was this so hard to admit? Why did he hesitate? He knew you wouldn’t perceive him as weak or cowardly. Would never see him as pathetic. He knew he could trust you with his heart. But showing just how much he’d struggled ripped off yet another layer of protection. It left him raw. Open. His breathing hitched.

“Realized what, baby?” you spoke as softly as you could manage, easing his words out of hiding.

“I um, I realized it was never about the serum.” He stared at you expectantly, like he wanted you to connect the dots. Wanted you to save him from saying the words. But after a long moment, he forced them out.

“I wanted to die- I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

You knew he survived. You knew that he was okay. Still, his words gutted you. A burning sensation tingled inside your nose- but you refused to allow the tears to form. You swallowed every ounce of emotion. Forbade your heartbreak from making an appearance. But Bucky clocked your shaking hand. The slight tremors and twitches vibrated against his vibranium palm.

Sure, you could fight the tears and keep yourself composed- but you couldn’t force your hands to steady. 

He let a sad smile pull his lips upward, “Did you know that everyone who’s attempted suicide off the Golden Gate Bridge and survived immediately regretted jumping? The instant they began falling, they realized they didn’t actually want to die…” A deep breath filled his chest, “And that’s exactly what happened to me.”

A strange relief eased through your body, coating your rigid muscles. Somehow, knowing he instantly regretted his attempt made you feel better- made you feel as though the urge didn’t still lurk in the back of his mind.

“I knew my life was fucked. I was lost, alone, confused. I was homeless. Scared.” A particular darkness overshadowed him as he reflected. He remembered the fear. The isolation. The constant, overwhelming sense of impending doom. He lived in a never-ending state of fight or flight back then, his body always prepared for death. 

But a sudden light banished the sadness, “And then I realized that I had a second chance at life, you know? I was free- from the military, from Hydra. And I told myself that if I survived, I’d figure my shit out. That I’d try to make something of my life- that I owed it to myself to make this work.”

You nodded. It didn't feel like enough of a response. You wanted to tell him you were proud of him, that you loved him. But your mind was blank, save for the image of Bucky bleeding out by his own hand.

“And I’m so glad I made it through, cause- I never imagined I’d find happiness like this. I look back on that time every now and then, and it’s… I mean, it’s horrible. It’s scary. And it’s sad. And I wish I’d never experienced any of it.” A warm, genuine smile broke out across his face. It lifted his features and cleared the storm clouds from his eyes. He stared at you like you were his salvation, “But then I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could tell myself that it gets better. That I won’t be alone forever. That one day, someone will actually care about me.”

The two of you sat in silence, staring at each other. Bucky couldn’t get the look of adoration off his face. When you entered his life, it was like he swallowed the sun. You warmed him from the inside out, filled his life with light. He looked at you, convinced you were heaven-sent.

The dam holding your tears wouldn’t last much longer- you knew it would collapse any second. But you fought to reinforce it. What if Bucky had more to say? What if he needed more time to purge the details of his darkest days? You weren’t going to let your emotions rob him of that- you couldn’t. So, you remained quiet, waiting.

“Anyway…” Bucky said when he finally spoke again. “That’s um, that's where the scars came from. Thank you for listening- I know that was probably hard to hear. And that it wasn’t what you were expecting. But I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. Do you-”

With a guttural sob, you scrambled into his lap. You flung your arms around his neck and secured your body to his- desperate to hold him. To assure yourself that he was real. That he was there. Everything you felt over course of his story came flooding forward, destroying your hard-built dam. The heartbreak and the pain and the utter despair drained from your body in streams of tears. 

But Bucky expected this. He knew how much you loved him, how deeply you cared- not that he ever expected anyone to feel such things for him. He knew his story ripped your heart out. Hearing something so soul crushing about the love of your life- something so dark and painful and scary- broke you. It cut you open and left you bleeding. He knew he’d react the same way if the situation were reversed. 

And so, he simply held you tight and let you cry. He smoothed a hand up and down your back. Left kisses against your cheek. Whispered assurances and soothing words. He whispered your name over and over again to convince you he was alive. He was patient and sweet, giving you the time you needed to process what he’d said. He knew exactly what you needed.

“I love you…” you finally whispered against his neck. 

A quiet, contented hum left Bucky’s chest. “And I love you. I just thought you should know… But now that I’m thinking about it, maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it was too much." The longer you cried, the more regret pooled in Bucky’s chest. It solidified and turned to concrete, sitting heavy on his heart. “I’m sorry for upsetting you-"

You pulled your tear-stained face from the crook of his neck and stared at him with a nearly frightening intensity. “No, don’t apologize. This is your life we’re talking about…” You paused for a moment, only to wipe the tears from your cheeks. 

“Everything that’s happened to you- all the good and all the bad- made you who you are. That moment-” Flashes of Bucky, bleeding and alone, swarmed your brain. The images robbed you of air and sent fresh tears trailing down your face. Bucky gave you as much time as you needed to compose yourself, to remember how to breathe.

“That moment is important. It’s part of your story. A big part. And it’s awful- it's really fucking sad. And it wasn’t easy to hear…” You forced a deep inhale and steadied your voice, “but it’s important. You chose to live. To stay. You made yourself a promise, and you’ve kept it. And I’m really- I'm so proud of you.”

Bucky pulled you back into his body. He basked in your love, in your support and your understanding. And he silently thanked the version of himself who fought to survive. He didn’t choose life all those years ago because he hoped one day he’d find love- but it certainly made his decision far more worth while.

Muffled words vibrated against Bucky’s neck, and he let out a soft laugh. “Can you say that again doll?”

With a dramatic groan, you once again pulled your head from Bucky’s neck. “I’m said… I’m glad- for a lot of reasons- that you took advantage of your second chance. The world would be a much shittier place without you in it.” You untangled your arms from around his neck and rested your palms against his stubbled cheeks. “And if I’m being selfish, I’m glad that you stuck around… cause I can’t imagine my life without you. That whole thing- all that dark shit- it brought you to me.”

Bucky’s lips met yours in an instant. He poured every ounce of his love for you into the kiss. All his devotion. He couldn’t find the words to describe how much you meant to him. How special you were. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to express feelings that strong.

The two of you laid on the couch, enveloped in one another. You held Bucky tight enough to ensure he wouldn’t spontaneously disappear. His head rested on your sternum; your hands tangled in his hair. You breathed together like one being, no seams or sutures to be found.

“I’m glad I finally told you,” he said after a while. “I wanted to get it off my chest, but I just didn’t know how. And the longer I waited, the guiltier I felt for keeping it from you.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty, baby. Not with me.” 

Things quieted again. It was so peaceful and calm that you thought Bucky might’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t imagine the emotional toll it took to recount his darkest days- hell, you were exhausted from just listening to his story. If he needed to sleep off the turmoil, then so be it.

But a familiar sound broke the silence. Bucky’s stomach rumbled, once again disrupting a peaceful moment.

“Hungry?” you asked with a laugh.

Bucky nodded emphatically against your chest.

“I bet. You barely touched your food.” You removed your hands from his hair, freeing him, “Go heat up some leftovers, Babe.”

He hesitated. His eyes drifted from the containers of brisket, macaroni and cheese, and cornbread before returning to your face. He feared leaving your side, like he thought maybe you’d fall apart if he left you alone. You had to be fragile, still reeling from the awful things he’d said. And he needed to be there for you- his hunger could wait.

But you read his mind. “Buck, I’m okay,” you laughed, “I swear. You can make a trip to the microwave- I’ll be alright.”

With a deep kiss, Bucky leapt into action he snagged his plate off the table and piled it high with everything in sight. It was such a sharp contrast to the old days, the time he spent lost and alone without even a sliver of hope. Some days, he felt like he still sat in square one. Like he hadn’t made much progress or done enough work on himself. But it was moments like these that proved to him- and to you- just how far he’d come. Never again would he wish for death or seek to end his pain forever. He had to live- he wanted to live. For himself. For you.

---------------------------

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[yourmidnightlover]

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite. 

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 

-

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 

and then there was a knock at the door. 

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes whump #bucky x fem!reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #marvel au #bucky barnes au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky fanfic

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘥 𝘋𝘰 (𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky explore ways to practice non-sexual intimacy.

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, implied past SA, bad therapist Dr. Raynor, showering together, implied panic attack, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged.

Help! I haven’t read the first part!

“You struggle with intimacy.” Dr. Raynor’s unmistakable voice rang through his head.

He glared at her, his brows furrowed. “What?” His voice was slightly hoarse, so the word came out all croaky.

“You struggle with intimacy.” She repeated. “It’s common in victims of sexual abuse and assault. And you’ve got over fifty years of that.”

Bucky grimaced at her blunt choice of words. “So..what?”

“So, we’ve got a lot to work on. You’ve got any relationships? Friends, partners?” Dr. Raynor asked. “What about the girl you’ve mentioned?”

“I have friends.” He grumbled.

“Good. What about your relationship with your girlfriend? Are you two intimate?”

He clenched his fists. “That doesn’t sound like a professional question. Do you ask all your clients about their sex lives?”

“Just answer the question, Mr. Barnes. Are you intimate with your girlfriend?”

“No.” The word rotted in his mouth. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame as he was positive that Raynor was disappointed for some reason.

She scribbled something down in her notebook and Bucky felt like he was going to throw up.

“Try and build up trust and intimacy through non-sexual means.” She suggested.

When he raised a brow, she continued. “Cuddling together. Sleeping next to each other. Take baths or showers together. Be naked around each other. Work up to that one slowly.”

He didn’t think it would help his weird sex problems.

“Ask for what you need. The world won’t end.”

Bucky just shook his head bitterly, looking away as he clenched his metal fist tighter.

“…Hey.” You whispered as you looked at him. He felt a smile creep onto his face.

“Hey.” He echoed.

“You’re watching me while I sleep, now?” You chuckled.

“Maybe.” He gently played with a strand of your hair.

“You alright?” Your voice was warm, sleepy. He felt a warmth bloom within his chest.

“Mhm.” He answered after a moment. “Y/n?” He asked gently after your eyes fluttered back shut.

“Hm?” You didn’t open your eyes.

“Can..can we cuddle?” He asked. To his surprise, the world didn’t end.

“What?” You blinked your eyes open. He felt a pit of shame form in his stomach.

“Never mind. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head.

“No, no. What did you say?” You smiled encouragingly.

“…I asked if we could cuddle.” He muttered. He asked for what he needed. And the world didn’t end.

“Sure, hon. You want me to hold you? Or..” You offered.

He nodded. “I want you to hold me. Please.”

You lifted your arm, and he awkwardly shuffled over towards you, not quite sure what to do. “What..where do I—“

You chuckled a little, shifting slightly to lay on your back. “Just lay your head on my chest, if you’re comfortable.”

He nodded, doing so. He could hear your heartbeat. His right hand drifted to your stomach to gently play with the fabric of your shirt.

“This all right?” You asked gently as you rubbed circles into his back.

He nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” He said earnestly.

“Anytime. Always.”

“Hey, honey?” He asked suddenly as he dried the last plate.

“Hm?” You turned off the sink and turned to look at him.

C’mon. Don’t back at now, he told himself. “Do you..do you want to take a shower together?”

He watched as your eyebrows raised. But the world didn’t end.

“Yeah. We can do that. You sure you want to? There’s never any rush.” You assured him. He knew you meant well, but he felt like you were treating him like he was glass.

“I’m sure, honey.” He exhaled. “I’m..not glass. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was.”

“It’s okay. I’m—I’m not mad. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to treat me differently.”

“Alright. No differences. Scout’s Honor.” You did the Girl Scout sign with your hand.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Let’s go shower.” You suggested, and he nodded as he followed you to the bathroom.

He watched as you turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up as he grabbed two towels.

He watched as you pulled off your shirt. You were absolutely gorgeous, and he couldn’t help but stare.

You chuckled a little as you caught him, and he smirked slightly. He pulled off his own shirt, and that’s when things felt a little off. Not inherently bad, but…wrong.

He tried to push away the feeling as you stripped down to your underwear.

He fiddled with the button and zipper of his jeans. He barely noticed as his breathing began to become more intense.

“Buck?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“What?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears.

“You’re breathing all weird. You okay?”

“I..I can’t.” He shook his head, before rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. No worries. Today’s not the day; no rush.”

He frowned deeply. “I’m sorry.” And he felt sorry. He felt like shit.

You reached for his hand. He let you take it.

“Don’t be sorry.” You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb.

He gave you a small, weak smile. “Okay.” He failed. It didn’t work out. He had to be at least somewhat broken.

But the world didn’t end then, either.

“I want to try again.” He told you a few weeks later.

“Try..what?” You raised a brow.

“Showering together.” He stated.

“Okay. Now?”

He nodded. “Now.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” You agreed, and you both walked to the bathroom together.

This time, he pulled off his shirt and sweatpants with ease, standing there in his black boxers.

You pulled off all your clothes, checking the water to make sure it was warm.

Slowly, but surely, he slid his boxers down his legs and stepped out of them. He stood before you, completely naked, but he knew that you didn’t have a single thought of judgment in your mind.

“You wanna get in first?” You offered. He shook his head. Logically, he knew it didn’t really matter who got in first. But he figured that maybe a sense of being sure he was able to leave would help him if he needed it.

He watched as you stepped into the shower.

And then he did. And the world hadn’t ended.

He smiled at you as he stood so close to you. Close, but not touching. And it was perfect.

“We did it.” He grinned.

“We did.” You grinned up at him lovingly.

He’d done it. Even if it was only a step in a long process, he’d done it.

And the world didn’t end.

A/n: wanted to post this.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #hydra trash party #bucky barnes whump #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

I love the trope of the badass character who can face impossible odds time and time again and still walk away. The ones who can take on an entire room of guards or a league of assassins by themselves through their fighting skills, marksmanship, or intellect.

However, nothing bores me more than when this character does this and walks away without a scratch. It just shows there are no real stakes and the character is never in any real danger so what's the point?

Instead, give me a hero outnumbered 30 to 1 and who still wins, but they are shot up, bloody, bruised, and broken. Let them barely make it back to their safe house before collapsing in pain and exhaustion. Let them have to be patched up or out of commission for a while so they can heal. THEN I will believe there are actual stakes to future conflicts and there is a chance that character might not make it out the next time. Doing this will leave me on the edge of my seat the next time they find themselves in a similar situation instead of just sighing as they once again avoid hundreds of bullets without a scratch.

Without showing that they are human who aren't perfect and can actually be hurt, you lose so much empathy and emotional attachment to the character.

So, let them bleed. Let them be in pain. Let them struggle. Then let them get back up and continue on despite all of that.

That's the badass I want to see.

#this is vee #just a thought #it's one reason i enjoy whump so much #the perseverance even after being brought down is so great #i'm sure this is nothing shocking if you look at who i write for #bucky barnes #takeshi kovacs #rick flag #batman #jason todd #frank castle #matt murdock #din djarin #whump #whump thoughts #whumpy thoughts #whump tropes #whump scenario

[lavenderpanic]

Is my wrist sprained? Yes. Have I had a migraine for a week? Yes. Am I supposed to refrain from using my computer when possible? Yes. Am I going to do whumptober............ who knows

#bucky barnes whump #bucky whump #whump #whumptober

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 3

Summary: Reader meets the team.

Tw: mentions of sickness, teasing

Words: 2.8K

A/n: Thanks for all the support this series has been getting :) If anyone has any suggestions for things that could happen in this series lemme know and I’ll see what I think. No smut though I don’t write that here.

The next day you woke to knocking on the bedroom door. Sitting up in bed you quietly called for whoever it was to enter.

A moment later Wanda poked her head through the door. Seeing you awake or at least semi-awake she slipped through the small space she had created.

“Good morning.” She smiled coming to sit beside you on the bed. “Did you sleep well?” She asked pressed her hand to your forehead.

“Mmm.” You hummed still half asleep.

“You don’t feel warm anymore.” She smiled at this achievement as if she was proud of you. “How are you feeling today?” She asked moving her hands to rest in her lap again.

“Tired, but that’s probably because I just woke up.” You smiled.

“Nat sent me to wake you up. She wanted to know if your well enough to meet the others today.” Wanda explained looking slightly guilty.

“I mean, I’m game if you are. Where’s Nat?” You asked coving a yawn.

“Nat’s training with steve. And not so fast, I want to know more about how you're feeling. No more headache? Cough? Wheezing? Give me something.” She grinned.

“My headaches gone, no more cough, maybe a slight wheeze I’m not too sure.” You begun and Wanda’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of your wheezing. “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure my fever is gone, and I feel pretty good all things aside.” You finished.

“That’s good. Maybe keep your inhaler on you today just in case. And after the meeting I’ll see if I can get Bruce to give us a few spares, just in case.” Wanda said softly.

“You really don’t have to.” You said shyly toying with a loose thread on the sheets.

“Its no problem. I would make me feel better. Breathing is important.” Wanda teased easing your concerns.

“So, when’s the meeting?” You asked.

“Well, I think Nat wanted to do it as soon as possible. Like straight after training and then I’m going to make you some pancakes for brunch.” Wanda said poking your side. “But for now, hop up, get dressed and I’ll be back soon to show you where the meeting room is.” Wanda said, standing up and heading for the door.

Once wanda had left, probably to go and find Nat to call the meeting, you crawled out of bed. Rifling through your backpack you changed out your sleepshirt and shorts for a pair of black track pants and a pale-yellow t-shirt. Throwing on some goofy socks and lacing up your black converse high tops you braided your hair sat in front of the mirror and threw on some deodorant.

Once you were ready and had been to the bathroom to wash your face and go through your morning routine, you sat at peters desk.

Picking up your backpack you went through it until finding what you were looking for.

Pulling out the black sketchbook you opened it to a fresh page and began mindlessly doodling things you could see around peters room and the cityscape beyond the open curtains.

Just as you were getting into the details of the New York skyline you heard a knock on the door.

Lowering your pencil, you sat a little straighter.

“Come in.” You called your voice sounding better than it had in days. And surprisingly good for someone who had spent hours coughing and wheezing for days on end.

Wanda opened the door and smiled seeing you up and about for the first time.

“You look much better.” She commented coming to stand by your shoulder. “Wow, you’re an amazing artist.” She smiled looking at your drawings.

“Oh, um … thanks.” You smiled still a little awkward when it came to compliments. “So, what’s the news?” You asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Wanda said looking up from where she had been inspecting your sketchbook. “Nat called Fury. He’s kinda the boss. He’s given the go ahead if steve and tony sign off on it. Nat then called a meeting and I’m going to bring you to the room where you're going to meet the team.” She explained.

“I have two questions.” You said.

“Shoot.” Wanda said pulling you up and gesturing to follow her out the door.

“One, is peter going to be at this meeting?” You asked as Wanda lead you down some seemingly endless corridors.

“Yes.” Wanda nodded, pressing the button to call the lift.

“And two, this Fury guy said yes? Just like that?” You asked sounding slightly confused.

“Yes and no.” Wanda begun, stepping onto the lift with you beside her. “Nat asked Jarvis, Tony’s AI assistant to pull up all CCTV footage of spider-man and separate footage based on bio-signatures. So, she could differentiate between when it was peter and when it was you in the suit. She sent Fury the files and after he reviewed them, he approved you a place on the team. If you want it and the others agree.” Wanda explained.

“Okay.” You said slowly. “Seems like a good plan.” You smiled.

And the lift dinged softly as it slowed to a stop.

“This is us.” Wanda said and you followed her out of the open doors. Walking beside her down a hallway she stopped in front of a door and paused to look at you. “You ready?” She asked, her hand on the door handle.

“Yep.” You nodded swollowing down your nerves. “Ready as I’ll even be.”

“You’ll be great. Just be yourself and they’ll love you.” Wanda said and pushed the door open.

Nat was stood at the head of the table, a screen behind her queued up with spider-man videos. She smiled at you and wanda as the rest of the people turned to face you.

Seeing the people you had only ever seen on Tv in real life was a little overwhelming at first but wanda squeezed your hand and lead you into the room to stand at the front with her and Nat.

Peter smiled at you from where he was sat beside Tony. Looking proud of you just for standing in front of the avengers.

You stood there silent for a second simply making eye contact with your shoes before Natasha spoke up.

“This is Y/n.” Nat begun, and you gave a small half wave with an awkward smile. Tony was staring you down with an unreadable expression. He looked like he was analysing your face mentally. Most likely already having connected you to Peter.

“Hi I’m Y/n Parker.” You said lifting your eyes to meet a few smiling faces around the room a fair few of them sporting shocked looks.

“Parker?” Tony echoed sounding smaller than you had ever heard from his times on Tv.

“Y/n Parker is Peters sister.” Wanda explained.

“Kid?” Tony looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me there were two of you?” He asked looking sad.

Peter looked slightly sick at the open disappointment his mentor was showing right now and so you stepped in before peter had a panic attack.

“Mr Stark, Sir, it was my decision to keep myself out of the spotlight. And to do that I needed to maintain a low profile. Which is harder to do when the avengers know of your existence. No offence.” You explained. And the team exchanged a few glances as they noted how you had come to Peter’s aid almost immediately.

“That’s alright, I’m sure Pete will open up now you’re here.” Tony said with a grin as he ruffled Peters hair, “Won’t-cha kiddo?” He asked with his usual charismatic charm and Peter gave a small nod and smile while he ducked his head not liking the attention.

“So, anyone have anymore questions?” You asked drawing the attention off of Peter once more much to your brothers' relief.

Looking away from the small smile he sent you as thanks you laughed, seeing every hand in the room up with a question for you, bar Nat, Peter and Wanda of course.

You looked to your left and nodded to Steve.

“Hi, nice to meet you kid.” Steve said. “I have a question though, if Peter’s identity is secret, why did you need to stay away from us?” He asked looking confused, and his statement drew a few nods around the room.

“If Tony scares you honey, I can assure you that the man would forget his own shoes without me.” Someone you recognised as Pepper Potts said with a smile causing Tony to grumble to himself. How Nat had managed to wrangle the CEO of Stark industries into this meeting you didn’t know.

Little did you know that all it took was ‘There’s something you should know, it has to do with Peter’ and she was on her way.

“Actually,” Wanda said drawing the gaze of the room to her, “This should explain it. Jarvis play the video.” She said and the lights dimmed as the Tv showed a compilation of some of your best moves in the spider-suit.

When the video ended the lights retuned to their normal brightness and everyone still looked confused.

“How exactly does a compilation of Peter doing tricks explain that?” Bruce asked.

“Um…” You said looking slightly nervous. “That was me.” You said in a small voice and the room was silent for a second.

“Sick moves kid. Peter your sister’s awesome.” Sam said and a few people laughed at his perfect comedic timing.

“Prove it.” Tony said and you paled slightly.

“Tony.” Pepper said placing her hand on his arm and shooting him a look.

“No, its ok pepper.” Nat said. “Jarvis?” Nat called to the ceiling. “Was that peter in the suit for those videos?” She asked.

“The height and weight as well as body stature and proportions do not match Master Parker.” Jarvis said.

“Ok,” Nat continued, “Who do those body descriptors match in this room?” She asked.

“The person in the suit does match the body of Miss Parker.” Jarvis said and Tony frowned.

“Do the sticky thing.” Bucky called drawing a few smiles. You rolled your eyes and put a hand up, splaying your fingers before jumping in the air and touching the ceiling where you stayed stuck.

“Crawl around.” Sam said and you glared at his heckling.

“No.” You said and you saw Peter doing his puppy eyes at you. “Fine.” You sighed.

Jumping up you did a flip and stuck your legs out, now standing on the ceiling upside down and making eye contact with Sam before looking to Bucky.

“Better?” You asked sarcastically.

“Much.” Sam grinned and you rolled your eyes again.

“Ok. Get down Y/n.” Nat said sounding part annoyed part amused at the display.

“Yes ma’am.” You said before detaching from the roof and doing a flip to landing back where you were before.

“Show off.” Peter murmured under his breath and you huffed a small laugh as his ears went red, not having expected you to hear him. Dumb super-hearing.

“Well, now we’re done with the party tricks. What are we thinking?” You asked brushing off invisible dirt from your clothes.

“Well…” Tony said. “I think its time you got your own suit.” He grinned and you smiled back. “What colours do you want kiddo?” He asked.

“Um… maybe something like purple, white and red?” You said and he nodded already sketching down ideas on a pad of paper pepper had brought with her from a meeting.

“You’re also getting an AI.” Tony added and you looked a peter who simply smiled proudly of you.

“Well, if that’s everything Y/n’s also gonna need a room.” Wanda said and Tony nodded.

“There’s a spare room on Natasha and Wanda’s floor if you want to move in with the girls. Do I need to send some movers to grab your things?” Tony asked and you looked at your shoes and shook your head.

“Not much to move.” You mumbled.

“Y/n’s apartment was taken out in the last battle. She’s been hiding out in Peter’s room for now. That’s how we met actually.” Natasha said shooting you a reassuring smile.

“Well, it sounds like I’m going to be funding yet another shopping trip.” Tony sighed and Wanda grinned at you mischievously.

“We’ll make it a girl's day.” Wanda said shooting a look at pepper.

“I’d love to.” Pepper agreed and Nat clapped her hands together.

“Alright then.” The assassin said. “I should probably tell Fury we have another spider on the team.” Nat grinned and you smiled at her.

“Great, now we have three spiders.” Tony said rolling his eyes and ducking as Pepper aimed a pretty good swing to the back of his head.

“Knock it off Tony, don’t act like you're not secretly overjoyed to have another Parker around.” Pepper said.

“Just wondering,” Bruce said looking mildly nervous as the room turned to look at him.

“Yes?” You prompted him to continue.

“Are you…” He begun before pausing, “I guess theres no real nice way to put it.” Bruce said and Tony jumped in.

“I think Brucie-bear wants to know if you come with the Parker Brain Package.” Tony said and Pepper glared at him.

“Tony.” She warned, glaring at him while you cleared your throat.

“If you’re asking about how smart I am, let’s just say I designed the original prototype for the web-shooters and chemical makeup of the fluid.” You said and Tony nodded seemingly satisfied with that small tidbit of information for now.

“Well, if nobody had anything else to say, Wanda and I are going to take Y/n for a tour of the compound.” Nat said before turning to look at Clint. “And you, have to make dinner. You lost our bet.” Nat said and then dragged you and Wanda out of the room by your sleeves.

After a very long and very comprehensive tour by Natasha and Wanda, you were shown back to the communal kitchen where most of the team ate together when they weren’t on missions.

You walked into the dining room attached to the kitchen to be hit with the smell of burnt food pungent in the air.

You looked at Nat confused, and she grinned as she heard cursing coming from the kitchen. Wanda looked like she was itching to go help but sad she pulled away Nat grabbed her sleeve at the very last second to hold her back.

“Can someone explain whats going on for me?” You asked.

“Well, Clint and Natasha can’t cook if their lives depended on it.” Wanda begun, only to shush Nat when she went to speak up. “So naturally they made a bet, loser had to cook the team dinner, naturally Clint lost so Nat is enjoying his public humiliation. And I normally cook if we aren’t getting takeout so it's causing me pain to hear whats going on in there.”

“Oh, calm down. Clints not blowing anything up.” Nat said rolling her eyes as Wanda shot her a look. “Ok that was one time.” Nat amended.

Not twenty minutes later you were sat at a table with the avengers with a plate of very burnt stake and watery mash potatoes.

“What is it?” Tony asked poking his steak.

Clint grinned. “A masterpiece.” He said.

“More like a mistake.” Nat muttered judging her steak while poking it with her knife as if she was expecting it to start moving of its own accord.

“I say we have newbie try it.” Tony posed and you rolled your eyes.

Cutting off a piece of the very tough steak with your knife you raised it to your lips and put it in your mouth.

It was tough and kind of disgusting. But you smiled anyway.

Finding the meat tougher than you had been expecting, you made the switch as you called you fangs up. Your canines sharpened as you chewed managing to decimate the meat. Swallowing you looked at Clint.

“Not the worst thing I’ve every eaten.” You said with a smirk and Tony who had been watching you closely squeaked.

“Jeez kid you didn’t tell me your sister was a vampire.” Tony said turning to Peter.

By this point most of they eyes were on you, so you hid your teeth and retracted the fangs out of embarrassment.

“She’s not. It’s a spider thing she got.” Peter said coming yo your defence.

“Either way her new name is fangs.” Tony said with a grin.

This time you glared at him.

“For the record i think they’re awesome.” Wanda said sensing your embarrassment.

“Seconded.” Nat said her spy training honing in on your body language to see you were insecure about it.

“I gotta admit it’s a cool trick doll.” Bucky said.

“Pretty neat.” Steve agreed with a smile.

“Badass.” Sam nodded flicking a still frozen pea at Bucky. “Alright, now that y/n probably has food poisoning, who wants pizza?” Nat asked with a grin. Cheers came from all sides of the table as Clint slumped dejectedly in his seat.

PART 4

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