#cut to sam sitting on a couch in full gear as he wait for bucky to finish his coffee

[silversoulstardust]

I hope Captain America 4 opens with a scene of soft morning Bucky drinking coffee with Alpine sleeping on his lap as he reads newspaper

And Sam casually emerged from a room in a home they share together, all suit up in his Captain America gear raring to go and be like

"Why are you not dressed yet?"

"I'm having my morning coffee, Sam"

"The world is in danger, Buck"

"Sam, I am the danger to world without my morning coffee"

"........"

#cut to sam sitting on a couch in full gear as he wait for bucky to finish his coffee #idk it sounds funnier in my head #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #headcannon #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #chrmz.txt

[believeitseeitdoit]

A Defiled Uniform

Steve x reader x Bucky , Steve Rogers x reader , Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: the boys find a particular garment in your stuff, and set out to fulfill an old fantasy in the bedroom

Rating: 18+, don’t touch this if you are under age please, and sweet Jesus wrap it up folks,

Warnings: CW brief discussion of religion and old style school punishments, SMUT, 3 some, if it isn’t your style, don’t read (I’ll be less offended if you ignore it than if you read it and get cranky), blowjobs, spanking, man on man kissing, dirty talk, language, teacher kink … let me clarify the reader is 100% of age and consenting to the scene!!!

The boys are helping you pack up your apartment so you can move to the compound up North with them. Natasha is helping you wrap dishes in the kitchen while Steve and Bucky tuck your clothes into suitcases from your closet. Classic rock plays throughout, windows open letting fresh air flow, and you can hear Sam bickering with the spiderling about what order to pack your furniture into the moving truck. Nat hands you another champagne flute from the top rack when you hear Bucky call your name.

“Y/N! When did you get all these shirts?! You literally wear 3! And since when do you wear so many shoes???” He yells from the closet, tossing your stuff at Steve, who patiently chuckles and sets them down in his organized fashion.

“It’s called variety, Buck, you’re not a woman on undercover missions. I need options!” You chirp back at him and set the wrapped plate into the box.

Bucky continues to mutter over your items and sighs happily when he can finally see the other side wall of the closet. Only 2 hangers left to go, he thinks gratefully. He grads an aged, faded green hoodie with your university logo and puts it to his nose so he can soak up your scent on it. Your choice fabric softener and hints of your favorite perfume, Black Opium, waft through and he thinks fondly of how much he loves those scents. Tossing the top to his best man, Bucky grabs at the last hanger. Huh, never seen this skirt before, he thinks while holding it up to the light.

“Hey Stevie, have you ever seen her wear this? Looks awful small for mission gear.” Bucky aims the skirt at Steve, giving it a gentle shake for dramatic effect.

“No, Buck, can’t say I have. You know what it reminds me of though? Those uniforms they used to wear at the all girls school across the road from the park back in Brooklyn.” Steve looks from the clothing to his boyfriend suggestively.

“Oh yeah! Those nuns sure kept the girls in line, remember the stories Dot and Molly would tell us about the rulers and paddles? Shit today that’s corporal punishment!” Bucky pulls the skirt off the hanger and folds it, placing the garment in your overnight bag rather than the suitcase.

“You gonna do something with that?” Steve nods to the new addition to your bag.

“Just gonna ask a question later is all Stevie.” Bucky winks at his partner and smiles.

Later that evening, the apartment is signed away and no longer your monster to manage, and the three of you are celebrating the next step in your relationship and life with your men. Lounging on the couch between them, your back against Steve and your legs curled up on top of Bucky’s, sipping a whiskey coke. Steve reaches to your chin and tips it up to place a chaste kiss on your lips, while Bucky rubs up and down your calves softly. You return his peck by sliding your tongue across his teeth, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. As he obliges, he lets his hands drift around your waist to rub your breasts and knead at the full flesh.

In your lustful haze, you hear Bucky speak up. “So where in hell did a good Catholic student learn how to kiss like that? I’m pretty sure they didn’t teach you how to moan like that in school princess.” His eyes are dark with desire and he rests his hands on your knees, locking them in place. You turn your eyes away from one man to the other, bewildered and slightly warm.

“What do you mean Bucky?” You ask with genuine uncertainty. Regardless of the commentary, your arousal grows with the ministrations from both your lovers.

“Well see doll, we did a little research today while you were unpacking. Shield likes to keep full files, and boy was it satisfying to learn that our sweet girl was an innocent little catholic school student. Went to church twice a week and everything.”

Steve whispers in your ear while rubbing a nipple between his fingers.

“And what better detail to find than your old uniform hanging in the closet. Blue is really our favorite color princess.” Bucky adds while snaking his vibranium hand up the inside of your thigh. He ghosts a finger across the seam of your panties, and gives them a quick snapping tug.

You turn to hide your head in the couch cushions, an attempt to cover the blush spreading across your cheeks. They weren’t supposed to find it! How could you slip up with that , as a SHIELD agent??! That fantasy was to remain deeply hidden.

“Don’t hide princess, we want to see that face when Steve tells you what happens next.” Bucky continues working your mound with his metal arm while he previews the future of the evening.

“Now sweet girl, you are going to go upstairs and open your overnight bag. You are to strip out of these clothes, put on the items in there, NOTHING else. Understand me?” Steve’s voice drops an octave as his mind shifts toward his dominant state.

“When you’re ready, I want you to sit at the desk, ready for the bell to ring.” Bucky adds his request as you nodded toward the blonde.

You swing your legs off the couch, palms sweaty with the anticipation of fulfilling the fantasy of defilling such a symbol of purity and innocence. As you turn away from your boyfriends and head to complete your task, each man takes a palm to your ass and smiles. You yelp, and scurry to the bedroom to find your drag bag placed at the foot of the bed. With shaking hands you peel the zipper apart to pull out your wardrobe. A white button down blouse, white ankle socks, the soon to be defamed plaid skirt, and the most ridiculously padded fire engine red bra you’d ever seen. With a chuckle, you peel off one layer of clothes and begin re dressing with the second. Not knowing how much time you have until the “class” begins, you hastily throw your hair into a ponytail and slap a little lip stain on before sliding into the large desk chair and crossing your ankles.

Moments later, you hear heavy boots scuff the floor and the stairs creak under the weight of two super soldiers. Your thoughts drift to dirty places and you imagine seeing bucky’s vibranium hand slide under the skirt while Steve massages your flushed and heavy tits through the top half of your given uniform. A shrill school bell pierces your thoughts and a heavy thud from the door forces your eyes up.

“Now who do we have here? Looks like Miss Y/L/N was sent in for a dress code violation. Mr. Rogers, would you please identify the specifics on why you have sent this young lady to my office?” Bucky looks you up and down as if he were stalking his prey.

Steve looks over his reading glasses and gives you a once over. “Well Mr. Barnes, this young lady clearly has no respect for the rules. I guarantee that skirt is far too short, bet you can see her backside if she stands up.” He begins to circle you as well, and pulls at your blouse. “This shirt is practically transparent, I’d say that’s a bra redder than a sunburn on the Fourth of July.” He grabs a strap and allows it to snap sharply back against your shoulder.

Bucky reaches out to you, asking for your hand. “Now young lady, I am a pretty lenient man, but disrespecting the code of conduct is an inexcusable offense. Mr.Rogers didn’t even mention that lipstick you have on. I happen to know for a fact your lips are not that shade of plum.” He swipes a thumb across your lips to smear the stain. “I think we should allow him to assist in your punishment since he had to leave his duties to discuss this with us.”

“I haven’t used a ruler on this one yet, will that suffice Mr.. Barnes ? She looks a bit delicate for much else.” Steve comes up behind you and begins to caress your thighs, not yet going past the skirt.

“I think a palm should get the point across rather eloquently, perhaps 10?.” Bucky keeps hold of your hand and reaches for your other to pull you close to him.

Steve releases your legs and allows Bucky to take you away. With his vibranium hand, Bucky pulls you to the opposite side of the desk, and leans you across it bringing your chest flush against the mahogany. As he releases your hands he whispers in your ear. “Now princess, I want you to count them and just maybe this will be your punishment for not telling us about your dreams sooner.”

Your thighs clench as a wave of wetness rushes through you, and your breath comes in pants as you hear the pair of them come to face each other over you. Bucky grabs your hands again, and brings them together in front of you so he can hold you down, while Steve runs a hand up your legs and slots one of his between your knees.

“I knew this tight ass couldn’t hide under that skirt, such a bad girl princess,” Steve says as he pushes the skirt over the globes and gives each one a squeeze. “Damn Bucky, can you tell how turned on she is? Dripping all over the place, ready to cum still all dressed up.” He continues kneading your backside while ignoring your moans and wiggling frame.

“Wait til you’ve finished her punishment, bet she’ll be ripe and sweet like a peach for us to taste Stevie.” Bucky growls as he pushes you back down onto the table.

Distracted by Bucky’s words and touch, you nearly miss the sound of air moving as Steve’s palm cuts through it toward your ass. You Yelp again, and whimper at the prospect of not sitting for a week. Bucky taps on your shoulder, reminding you of your duty. “What did I ask you to do princess? Are you going to be a good girl and count for us?”

“Yes, One Sergeant.” You groan out the count.

Another smack comes down to the same spot, right above the crest of your cheek. You gasp into the desk and suck in a breath from the sting. “Two Sergeant.”

Steve continues doling out your punishment to your backside, by the time he hits nine tears are welling in your eyes from the sting and pleasure building in you. Your legs are shaking with effort from standing and your voice is wrecked from garbled use.

“Ten, Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You whisper after Steve finishes his smacks and begins to rub the marks in soothing circles.

“Good job princess, you did that so well, now it’s time for your reward.” Bucky releases your arms and Steve pulls you up from the desk, the pair of them sandwiching you between them as you all move toward the bed. Your blouse is pulled over your head between frantic kisses with Steve, while Bucky strips his clothes. As they switch positions, you go to unzip the skirt and wrap your legs around Bucky, but he catches your hand and yanks it behind your back.

“Who said you were allowed to take that off? Class is in session, and you must be ready to learn.” His eyes glow with desire as he leans in to kiss you.

Once Steve has rid himself of his clothes, he returns to the bed and comes to lay behind you as Bucky sits you up. “Today’s lesson princess, is the art of how to keep sucking while you cum.” Steve is stroking his member while watching your eyes roll shut with want as he explains the plan to you. Bucky houses you forward into Steve’s chest and pulls your backside to him.

“Damn Stevie, those handprints won’t be gone for a week. She’ll have to find a softer surface to sit on.” He admires his boyfriend’s handiwork while getting his girl set. With your head down and ass up, Bucky slides his flesh hand between your thighs and begins to run two fingers along the outside of your slit. Using your arousal to coat his fingers, Bucky pushes two inside you and begins to work them slowly. He picks up speed as you begin moaning and looks up at his partners nodding to Steve to fill you from the other end.

As Bucky’s fingers move against your walls with vigor, you moan and writhe seeking out more friction on your clit. Steve takes the opportunity to place his hard cock against your open lips, and waits for you to begin sucking. No motivation needed, you lean into his groin and take him in one swallow. Moving your head back and forth, you swirl your tongue against the shaft, and as Bucky adds a third finger to your pussy, you let a moan vibrate through your body, sending a secondary shiver through Steve as well. You relax your jaw and allow Steve to begin fucking into your mouth as his own release builds, the sounds of skin slapping and your muffled moans driving him wild with want. Bucky withdraws his fingers and reaches under you to lift you higher onto your knees. With this motion, Steve lifts into a kneel of his own and makes eye contact with his boyfriend. You pay them no mind as greedily sucking down your boyfriend's dick takes precedence and the prospect of getting fucked by the other makes you giddy with anticipation.

Bucky grabs a fistful of your skirt and slams your ass into his hips, setting your pussy ablaze with the slide of his thick curved cock against your walls. You groan against Steve’s painfully hard member, and before you can take him all he grabs your ponytail and pulls you off. Bucky’s brutally fast and deep pace has you close to the crest and Steve wants you to remember the rule of the scene.

“What did we say about today princess, you need to be able to keep sucking my cock while Bucky makes you come. Don’t stop, go it?” He wraps his hand in the ponytail and as you nod he allows you to take him in your mouth again.

Bucky’s thrusts are getting frantic as he chases everyone's peaks, and he reaches his vibranium hand to your clit while grabbing Steve with his opposite hand to pull him in for a hard kiss. Both men are panting as they pound into you from both sides, a hand touching each body as your body grows tight with the desire to orgasm. Bucky pinches your pearl and he tells you to come, giving a final hard thrust as he feels your walls clench around him. Like a rubber band, you snap into oblivion, no longer aware of what occurs beyond the throbbing in your pussy and the perfect fullness that surrounds you. You feel the waves of pleasure crash through you, and still both men continue their chase. Hypersensitive and fuzzy, you relax your jaw again and take Steve all the way to the hilt, and you bob your head quickly, sealing your lips around his large base trying to finish him off. Bucky’s thrusts have gone shallow as your walls have him locked like a vice, but you feel him begin to shatter as well. With a final thrust from both men, they spill into you with heavy grunts.

Bucky pulls out of you and Steve lifts you off his softened member, laying you onto the pillows.

“Did we properly defile the uniform, princess?” Steve kisses your forehead as Bucky pulls the garment off you with a smile.

“Yes Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You nod sleepily, thank each man, and curl into their frames as Bucky climbs under the sheets. “If I had had either of you for teachers, it would have been a shameful garment way sooner,” you chuckle as they share a kiss above you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #stevebucky #steve rogers #steve x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes #stucky #smut

[ahomeformystories]

Just A Bit Of Fun

Sort of Bucky x Reader (more fluff than anything else really) First Person POV One-Shot

After watching ep. 3 of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, I *knew* a fic was coming along but I needed to let it sit for a while. And here it is!

You’re with Sam and Bucky on this whole mission. You just got out of Low Town and are back in Sharon’s place in High-Town. The reader tries to have a bit of fun but it’s really fluff with Bucky towards the end. You can decide if you’d want it to stay platonic or if would be a set-up for something more. 

Enjoy! 

Word Count: ~1.4k

~ ~ ~

We all convened in the second floor of Sharon’s gallery which was thankfully silent and in much better taste than the district we came from. Sharon had already given me permission to choose clothes from a specific area of her closet but I stood in the living room waiting to see when Sam would be finished choosing his outfit. I wanted to check out the men’s wear rack for myself.

Bucky had already changed and was sitting in the couch by himself, staring off into space a bit. When my eyes trailed over him, I actually appreciated the black jacket he chose. Zemo was sitting in a chair, already enjoying a stiff drink. Their banter was funny to watch, even if we were in such a serious predicament and were actually about to be killed just a few minutes ago but everything in this moment still brought a smile to my face.

When Sam finally chose and put on a shirt, I internally let out a hallelujah and made a beeline for the clothes rack.

“Lay low. Take some time. Enjoy the party and stay out of trouble” Sharon said before disappearing out of the room. I could have laughed when I heard Zemo say “Trouble” but choose to smile to myself instead. There were a few really nice jackets, dress shirts and even a sparkling number that I choose to ignore but my eyes lit up when I found what I was looking for. I pulled out a black long sleeve shirt that seemed just to be about the fit I wanted. It needed a few changes but that could easily be done.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” I heard Sam ask from behind me. I turned to find him near the hard liquor, already fixing himself a drink.  God, don’t these people drink water? “Sharon already showed me what I could get from her closet but they aren’t things I would wear for myself in the field tomorrow. Hence, this” I made the hanger do a little dance before walking up to Bucky. “May I borrow a knife?” He looked up at me from the couch and felt the atmosphere must have been light enough to joke. “What makes you think I carry around knives?” I made a face as if it to say /Please. Who are you even kidding/ “Everyone knows it was…is…kind of your thing. So…” I tilted my head to try again. I also tried not to add that you walked into Madripoor in FULL Winter Solider gear so we all knew you’d maybe have at least 3 knives on you. He let out a sigh and pulled out a knife that was strapped to his thigh “Fine. But return it when you’re done” I smiled in thanks. “Of course” and made my way into an adjacent room.

Alone in Sharon’s room, I made quick work on the shirt -- shortening the sleeves, widening the collar and even tapering off some length. Now it was time for the party outfit. My fingers travelled over silky numbers, low-cut necklines, almost backless numbers and sparkly things. I would have loved to play dress-up but we were still in a place where anyone could pounce on us at any moment AND we had a bounty on our heads. Playing dress-up would have to wait. So I choose something practical but still a bit fun because ideally, no one would come shooting at us tonight.

A black somewhat sheer top with mid-length sleeves that sparkled just enough when the light caught. It was sheer enough that you could see the black bandeau and razor-back straps underneath and it fit in all the right places if I may so myself. I even decided to wash my hair a bit and borrow some of Sharon’s make-up. A quick glance in the mirror was able to make me smile.

Even for a while, we could have fun.

I stepped out of the room because I felt the boys were already getting impatient to go downstairs. Sam stopped mid-drink and I felt even Zemo’s gaze trail my movements. “Thank you for lending me your knife, Bucky” I held out the handle towards him. And something other than sorrow, despair and fatigue briefly flickered across his eyes. “You know we aren’t just here to have fun, right?” Sam said but I could feel the smile in his voice. I shrugged. “Trust me, this was one of the more practical options that fit me. Besides, I don’t think any of us have any plans to go wild tonight.” Bucky stood then so that I could look up at him when he said “Just a little bit of fun then” with the smallest of smiles.

~ ~ ~

We knew none of us could really let our guards down but the music was pulsing, people were dancing and the atmosphere was electric. Hell, even Zemo was having some fun on the dance floor! Sam was busy talking to a few of the potential art buyers and Bucky was leaning against a long bar table by himself so I slid up to him for some conversation.

“If I asked you to dance, would you join me on the dance floor?” He almost choked on his drink and I let out a laugh to give him a chance to recover. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, this isn’t really my style” He said after a few coughs. “Fair fair. Still working on the easing back into society bit?” I let my arm brush up against his. “You could say that, yea. It’s not going very well though” I think we both could tell that we were on a not-so-nice topic so Bucky choose to swerve instead and asked “Drink?” To which I earnestly shook my head. “I don’t drink a lot. And not all of us have super soldier serum that burns through the alcohol in my veins. So I’m good”

We fell into a companionable silence then as I let my head bob to the beat a bit. “Do you enjoy this type of scene…party…place, often?” His gaze took in the bodies that appeared to be pressed so closely together, the loud music  and dim lights. “Well…” I followed his gaze up until where the artwork was being displayed before looking back at him. “It’s better than the last bar we came from in Low-Town. But on a personal note, only occasionally. It’s not my usual scene but I don’t mind turning up every now and then.” “What makes you turn up then?” He asked, genuinely curious. “Good company” I said with a smile. “And it’s nice sometimes, to dance and kind of let go in the dark”

When I felt it was safe enough I said “You should put that on your list, after all of this. If we survive, I mean” “What?” “A night out with friends”

I paused to let that sink in for a moment. I couldn’t tell if Bucky was more stunned by the prospect of surviving this or having friends so I added lightly “It doesn’t have to be like this though. It can be other things too, whatever a 106-year-old man is up to” I nudged his shoulder a bit to lighten the mood.

Realization must have dawned unto him then that I was serious, about being friends. “Yea, that…that wouldn’t be so bad” and in that moment I saw a glimpse of a young Bucky in the 40s, enjoying a night on the town before going to war flash across his face. So I decided to do one more thing.

“I know you won’t forget but you have to promise. Even if you don’t write it down on that notebook of yours” I held out my right pinky.

He looked at me as if I just handed him the super-soldier serum we were looking for.

“You have to pinky promise. Do you know what those are?” “Uh. Uhh..yea” and he had no choice because I was on his right to extend his left arm towards me and seal the pinky promise with his vibranium hand. “Good” Feeling that at least the night was going well, I would try to enjoy it a bit more.

“If I leave you for a bit, will you be okay?” I asked. “I’m a hundred and six” Bucky said matter of factly but at least the smile reached his eyes this time. “Good” I patted his arm as I pushed off the table. “Where are you going?” And I gave him the largest smile I probably had in this entire trip “To dance”

xx

#tfaws #tfaws imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #tfaws spoilers

[moonstruckbucky]

Come Over (3/7)

Summary: You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader. Neighbor AU.

Warnings for Series: Fluff, angst, pining, the ush! Also, swearing, because nobody ever washed my mouth out with soap.

Notes: So I’ve daydreamed about a neighbor AU for an embarrassing amount of time, and I need something to get my creative juices flowing again. So, ta-da.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A month into your new life in New York, you feel more settled in. Your apartment doesn’t look like a warehouse piled high with boxes, and you’ve even spent some of your signing bonus on artwork to hang on the walls and a few plants to bring some life to the space. You’re even considering getting a cat.

At work, you frequently eat your lunch with not only Wanda and Vis, but the three other women on your floor. Maria, Charlotte, and Sarah are all mothers, so they don’t usually attend the girls’ night out you and Wanda plan every week, but they’re still pleasant to sit and chat with regardless. It’s made you feel even more at home at Stark Industries.

Speaking of, Tony is a riot, you’ve learned. You’ve come out of your shell a little more with each day you work for him, and it’s mostly in thanks to Tony’s easy-going personality. Though he’s clearly a workaholic on top of being addicted to caffeine (for anyone else this might’ve been a destructive combination but Tony seems to wield both extremely well), he feels more like a weird brother/father figure than a boss. He keeps most projects secret from you, but occasionally he’ll show you a new update or ask for your opinion as a consumer. You’re honest with him without kissing his ass too much about it.

Since he lives closer, Sam comes over a couple times a week to hang out with you and catch up on your favorite shows. He tries to bring Clint with him most times, but being neck-deep in a new case makes it hard for him to get away to visit. You settle for FaceTiming him during the week even though it isn’t the same.

It’s one of your weekly nights with Sam, who reclines in your new armchair with his feet up and an open beer in his fist. You’re catching up on Mindhunter with him, relaxed on the couch under a big fluffy blanket with your own beer. In between episodes Sam has been telling you all about the girl he’s been seeing, to which you demand you meet her for approval.

He rolls his eyes and asks, “Isn’t that my job?”

You scoff. “You’re my best friend, Sam, and as my best friend, I’ve got to make you’re taken care of just as much as you’re taking care of her.”

He grumbles under his breath but you can see a slight pinkness to his dark skin that makes you smirk in victory. A few moments of silence and then:

“So what about you and Neighbor Boy then? What’s going on there?” While your smirk drops, his widens. You take a long pull from your beer.

“Absolutely nothing, Sam.”

He snorts and gestures with his beer. “You have coffee dates almost every week!”

“He helps me put furniture together! There’s absolutely nothing but friendship there, I assure you.”

A doubtful look characterized by lowering of his eyebrows and pursed lips. A responding eye roll and scrunched up face, a silent don’t give me that look.

“Want another?” you ask, needing to busy yourself in order to keep your unusually attractive neighbor out of your head. Throwing the blanket off your lap, you stand up and accept the empty bottle Sam holds out to you.

If he notices that you take a little longer to fetch two more beers, he doesn’t say anything when you get back to the couch. He presses ‘play’ on the remote and the topic of your neighbor is dropped.

For an hour.

“So, you’re coming next Sunday for our football party right?” Sam asks.

Once a month during football season, Sam and Clint co-host a party at your brother’s apartment. You make your five-layer chip dip and Sam brings a massive amount of wings while Clint provides endless beer and a giant wrap-around couch that seats eight. (You’re still not sure how he fit the damn thing in his apartment.) To antagonize Clint and to make the day a little more fun, you and Sam always show up in your matching Patriots jerseys representing the McCourty twins.

“Of course I’ll be there! I never miss it!” you reply with an incredulous look. Sam holds up his hands.

“Hey, just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any new furniture that needed assembling that day.” He chortles when you chuck the throw pillow under your hip at him and nail him in the chest. “I’m kidding. Mostly. But, uh, I was gonna say, if you wanted to invite him, you could. Not as a date, don’t you throw that bottle! Jesus. Crazy. Just, Clint and I think he’s cool and it’d be cool to have another dude around.”

You watch him for a few moments, see no trace of his earlier teasing, and sigh and relax back into the couch. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“All I ask.”

Sam, bless him, leaves you be about Bucky for the remainder of your evening together. When he’s gone, your mind can’t rest just yet, so you open up a new beer and put on a rerun of CSI. You’ll regret staying up so late in the morning, but for now, you let your mind get sucked into the emotional episode of Warrick’s funeral.

Regret is a bitter bitch, and the next morning it comes in the form of a prominent headache paired with under-eye bags your makeup barely hides. A three-hour binge of CSI definitely wasn’t your smartest move considering you’ve a fairly important meeting with Tony in about two hours. Hair tied back in a ponytail and makeup...done but slightly unsatisfactory, you slip into a black pencil skirt with a mustard blouse tucked in. Your feet slide into a pair of black pumps and you throw on a jacket to combat the cool October morning.

You know your face shows your exhaustion as you give yourself a final once over, but there’s not much you can do short of downing copious amounts of coffee. Tote bag slung over your shoulder, you head out of your apartment with a sigh. As you’re locking your door, the one next to yours opens, and Bucky steps out looking ten kinds of delicious in his running gear, tattoos on full display thanks to his tight tank top.

You grunt when he tells you good morning, chuckles good-naturedly until he sees your eyes. Then he’s frowning in concern and you’re almost desperate to do anything to wipe it off. Such a man should not be frowning.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asks, falling into step with you towards the elevator. You resist the urge to rub your eyes in order to preserve your makeup.

“Not really. Sam stayed till about ten and then I stayed up a little while longer. Guess I just couldn’t fall asleep.” To punctuate your sentence, a long yawn escapes. Bucky stands next to you in the elevator, close enough you can feel the heat radiating from him and it’s wholly distracting. “And I have a meeting in a couple hours and I’m not really sure how I’m going to get through it without dozing a few hundred times. Know anyone who can hook me up with a caffeine IV?”

He laughs, the sound echoing in the small space, and despite the warmth and your jacket you still suppress a shiver.

“I’m afraid not. Hey, do you have a few minutes? We can go get a cup now, if you want,” he offers, blue eyes boring into yours, and you nod before you can really think about it. His smile brightens up the entire elevator, and then he’s leading you with a hand on your back out into the lobby and finally out onto the street.

He takes you to a place between your apartment building and the subway, stands with his hands in his pockets as you both wait in line. Sam’s invite bounces around in your head, your nerves expressing themselves in the form of tapping your fingers on your arms, which are crossed over your chest.

Bucky and you order your respective drinks and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Your hand on his arm stops him, has him looking down at you with those depthless blue eyes.

“I’ve got it,” you say softly with a small smile. He opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but you merely hand over some cash to the cashier. “You’ve helped me a ton this past month. Let me at least start paying you back with coffee.”

The blush that overtakes his face has your insides fluttering with giddiness. You have to bite your lip to keep back your grin, your entire body warming over the fact you’ve made this beautiful giant of a man blush. As the two of you stand off to the side and wait for your orders, you feel a small boost in confidence.

“Hey Bucky, I was wondering—” You’re cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone. He sighs and pulls the device from his pocket, and if you hadn’t been eyeing him so closely, you’d miss the slight downward twitch of his mouth.

“Excuse me just one sec okay?” he says apologetically. When he looks up at you, you know he means it and you nod. He smiles tightly and walks off down the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms, accepting the call with a hushed “Hi”.

You wait patiently until the barista calls your name and Bucky’s, and you grab both cups and sip lightly from yours while Bucky’s on his call. You can see him in the hall, shoulders hunched and free hand swinging about as he gestures. That pinched look is on his face again and you feel a faint tug in your gut that has you wondering if you’re close enough friends to ask.

Before you can decide one way or another, he’s pulling his phone from his ear and shoving it back in his pocket.

“Sorry about that,” he sighs, accepting the coffee you hand to him with a close-lipped smile. He takes a long drink from it, wincing a little at the burn, and licks his top lip. It’s horribly distracting for a minute. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Oh, um, I was just wondering if you maybe—oh shit.” A quick glance down at your watch shows you’re going to be late if you wait any longer. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going otherwise Tony’s going to kill me with his newest project. Um, I’ll see you later?”

Bucky’s blue eyes are slightly widened in surprise at your sudden departure. “Y-Yeah, definitely. Maybe you can tell me about this new project.” It’s said with a wink that tickles your insides.

“Maybe. If I’m not sworn to secrecy. Bye, Bucky!”

“Have a good day at work. And thanks for the coffee!” he calls out as you fly out of the cafe.

Your exhaustion only worsens as the day goes on. The meeting you’d sat in on was nothing short of boring—even Tony dozed off a few times, but only you’d taken notice because you were seated beside him and heard the tiny little snores. Your planner had been filled with new doodles of suns, clouds, flowers, and a tiny little witch in the margins. You’re still unsure why you’d been required to attend this meeting; you have a pile of things on your desk that could have been done in the two hours you sat uncomfortably in your chair, listening to the other tech geniuses go back and forth on new design ideas.

By the time it’s time for you to leave, you feel dead on your feet, which are cramping in your shoes. Your neck, shoulders, and back are also killing you due to sitting in your chair and hunching over the screen built into your desk. The subway ride home has you almost falling asleep, lulled by the gentle swaying of the car and the four hours’ sleep you got the night before.

It’s a slow climb to your apartment, and as you pass Bucky’s door you hesitate. You never did get to ask him this morning and so, because you’re too damn tired to be shy, you turn and knock three times on his door. From behind the wood you can make out a scuffle, and then the door is yanked open and your mouth runs dry.

Bucky stands before you, shirtless and gleaming with sweat. He’s breathless, that broad chest heaving up and down. There’s a smattering of dark hair across his chest and beneath his navel that disappears into the band of his shorts. The hair on his head is mussed, as if he’d been sleeping or hand run his hands through it.

“Y/N,” he gasps. Crimson creeps up his neck and across his chest, stains his cheeks as well as he avoids looking at your eyes. He glances over his shoulder briefly before turning back to you, eyes cast down at the neckline of your blouse. “Wha-What are you, um, doing here?”

“I, uh, wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to my brother’s with me for the football game on Sunday?” you ask in an equally breathless rush.

Bucky seems surprised by the question and is about to answer when a second, female voice calls from behind him, “James?”

A blonde head appears over his shoulder and the slender woman tucks herself under Bucky’s arm, looking equally as disheveled. You feel the color drain from your face even though it warms under the implication that you've...interrupted. There’s no question of what they’d been, or had about to have been, doing because the blonde’s hair is ruffled just like Bucky’s, her full lips red and kiss-bitten. Her blouse is untucked and unbuttoned.

You can’t take your eyes off her, nor she you as she lays a manicured hand on Bucky’s chest, a universal female power move that says he’s mine.

Bucky looks as awkward as you feel, shifting from bare foot to bare foot even as his hand rests on the woman’s shoulder. He clears his throat and gestures with his free hand to the woman, whose eyes have not left your form and are currently on their third sweep of your entire figure.

“Uh, Y/N, this is Sharon.”

“His girlfriend,” Sharon interjects. A sideways tilt of her lips that you know means no good. She reaches out with that manicured hand for yours and you shake it quickly, dropping it as if it’s burned you.

In a way, it has. It’s burned you so badly on the inside that you want nothing more than to duck into your apartment with your tail between your legs. You can feel the flames licking at your gut, sliding up your esophagus to singe your throat. It’s bitter, the burn, and it puts a pressure in your throat and behind your eyes.

“Sharon, this is Y/N, our new neighbor I was telling you about.” He won’t look at you, focusing instead on the blank wall just over your shoulder.

His sudden refusal to look at you pairs badly with your embarrassment, from both interrupting and for ever thinking you might have a chance, and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Chapter Four

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au #neighbor au #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes neighbor au

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 5/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) 

First chapter in series. Previous chapter. 

Chapter 5:  It’s time to find your family.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot,  Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety and PTSD, major triggers for death of loved ones and grief, chapter 5 only possible trigger for food

Note: Please heed the warnings for this chapter; it’s a bit intense. As always, I’d love to know what you think. xo Rhi

So Far Away Chapter 5/?

The first night you'd spent at Stark Tower was forgettable in the sense that you had completely forgotten most of it. Vaguely, there was a bath, and Bucky, then bed. That was pretty much it though. So, it wasn't like the day after needed to do anything particularly special to be considered memorable. And yet, it was.

As Bucky put all the Mexican food trash into the paper Ubereats bag, you flicked through channels on television.

"Have you seen this?" you asked, stopping on Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

"I know, I know! I don't know shit about anything, but in my defence, I've been busy helpin' to save the world since I've been… good," Bucky replied, highly defensive but also still in good humour.

"Um… I just meant, 'cause it's a super underrated Disney movie. And nobody's seen it, like Hercules," you told him, holding back a grin.

"Oh… Sorry. Sam's always yelling at me," he explained, throwing the Ubereats bag in the bin and walking back over the couch from the kitchenette.

"About movies?"

"About everything," he said, rubbing his face. "He's cut up about me missing, like, all of hip-hop."

It made you laugh, which motivated Bucky to continue his bitching about Sam Wilson. "And! He thinks me and Steve should have more 'refined taste' in everything." He used air quotation marks, which Natasha Romanoff had taught him to use, much to the dismay of Steve. ("Captain America.")

"Refined taste?"

"Yeah, basically he loses it when he we like anythin' he thinks is bad. Like…" Bucky cycled through his list of favourite things. "The Fast and the Furious movies."

An image flashed in your mind of Steve and Bucky, completely decked out in their respective gear, marathoning the films, cheering at every car stunt and use of the NOS button. It made you smile, genuinely happy.

Bucky continues, "They ain't my favourite or anythin', but they're fun, ya know? He's probably just upset that whenever we get in car races it's mostly someone trying to kill us,"

"I guess that's… fair, but he's… The Falcon… that's super cool?"

Bucky grinned, but quickly shook his head. "Don't ever tell him you said that, okay? Never tell Sam you think he's cool,"

"Is it like feeding Gremlins after midnight?" you asked.

"I watched that one! And, yeah. It's exactly like that,"

"But it's not like you guys don't get to see cool things… and be cool,"

"I guess… We're used to it?" Bucky thought for a second or two, wriggled into the couch and rested his arm along the back of it. You turned to face him, legs crossed and entirely attentive. "Before the war I loved reading about what new gadgets were comin' out. Used to drag Steve to anything with tech stuff. But then, Hydra. I wasn't really conscious enough to realise I was in the future," he told you, chuckling a little to himself like it was funny. It was so nonchalant that it shocked you a little. He hadn't stuttered saying their name, or shifted to a darker mood. "Whenever I got re-programmed, I was re-trained too. Whatever advancements they made, I learnt. Meant when Shuri fixed my head up, I wasn't that inept. Got it a lot easier than Steve that way,"

"Just movies and T.V. and stuff that you missed then?" you asked, feeling like you needed to keep him talking because you'd never heard anything so goddamn interesting.

"Yeah. Hydra didn't exactly have a Netflix subscription for me," he said. You said nothing. "That was a joke. You can laugh," Bucky told you, softly nudging your knee.

"I don't know how you joke about it," you said honestly.

He shrugged. "You'll joke about all this too, one day," he replied.

No. No, I won't.

Bucky saw the conflict flash across you face.

"It's not like there isn't things that still blow my mind… Wakanda, for one," he continued, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Is it as cool as it looks on T.V.?"

"Cooler. It's gotta be one of my favourite places. And when I met Wanda… She thought I was a bit of a meatball. Never met anyone with powers like hers, you know? She's amazing. And Vision. Still don't really get what he's about,"

"So, you are friends with Wanda Maximoff but you think Vin Diesel is cool?" you asked, affronted.

Bucky laughed. "No. I think the cars are cool. The stunts! Vin Diesel seems like a jerk."

Another image flashed. Someone in the world, Vin Diesel, knowing that The Winter Soldier thought he was a bit of jerk.

Bucky watched you laugh.

"Come on, then. What's this one about?" he asked, turning back to the television.

"Atlantis-"

"Underwater city? I'm in."

That's about where you realised that Bucky Barnes was a massive nerd.

It took Bucky ten minutes to tell you that you needed to keep warm, putting the knitted blanket over you. It took twenty to have him scoot closer to you, his arm still on the back of the couch, behind your head. About half an hour in, Bucky said, "Yeah, this is better than Snow White. I love this little mole guy."

Bucky was watching, listening for any signs that the lack of conversation had given you time to think, to spiral. But, it hadn't. Atlantis was a comfort movie for you, a distraction. He could see you smile and frown along with the characters.

"It was pretty obvious that this was gonna happen," Bucky said at the high point of the plot twist. He was aiming for a reaction. You looked at him fast and dramatic. "I'm good at picking the bad guys. Kinda my job."

At the rolling of the credits, Bucky asked, "Ice cream?"

As he put a collection of Ben and Jerry's on the counter top, Bucky caught himself in a sudden realisation. He was keeping you busy. Eventually, you'd notice, or the day would carry on and bedtime would come; the quietness between 'goodnight' and sleep would crush you, pushing from you anxiety and grief. But first, Bucky thought, ice cream.

"Half Baked," you said. Bucky handed you the pint and a spoon.

You watched him open the Strawberry Cheesecake, Cherry Garcia, and Urban Bourbon. "Variety is the spice of life," he said grinning, his voice a strange mocking tone, like he was parroting someone you'd never met.

"I genuinely don't know where all that food goes,"

"In here," he answered, lifting his shirt and patting his tummy.

"Yeah, but like, do you have one of those trash compactor things that mooshes it all down super small?"

Bucky laughed. "Maybe. Who knows what's going on inside 'ere."

You were sitting on a bar stool, leaning against the kitchenette's counter. Bucky put the spoons in the dishwasher and the uneaten ice cream away. He liked things in their place, you noted.

"So," he said, too casually. It felt, correctly, like a lead up. "How are you feeling?"

"Full," you answered, honest, but also not really.

Bucky looked at you, nodded. "What else?"

You dropped your gaze, breaking eye contact. A nervousness grew in you, the gatekeeper to all the bad. It was telling you to flee - answering the question wouldn't be nice. You could tell that Bucky wouldn't change the subject though. He could wait in that silence all day for you to speak.

"I…" you began. "I don't know. There's just… a lot,"

"Yeah. That makes sense. There is a lot… Probably good to start telling me about it." When you said nothing to that, he added, "Or someone else. We can-"

"I feel guilty," you blurted out, partly to stop him suggesting you talk to anyone else, partly because the gate was opening and the guilt as behind it in abundance. Bucky nodded like he already knew what you were going to say, and what you meant. "I… I'm here. Where I'm more than safe," you said, looking around at the suite. "But I haven't done anything to deserve it-" Bucky went to say something but stopped himself. "I'm not the most hurt, or the most useful person to save or anything like that. And then, I haven’t even looked-" That was it. The tears began to stream down your face, heavy and hot. You could feel them pooling in your shirt somewhere. The sentence you started was lost, completely drowned out by sobs.

Bucky remained composed. He fetched tissues from the bathroom, took it upon himself to clear your face, ready for the next wave. It arrived immediately. "Come 'ere," he said, pulling you into him. There would be wetness and snot all over his hoodie when you would eventually move, but you didn’t think of that in the moment and Bucky really didn’t care. He stood between your legs, rocking you gently on the stool for a minute before you spoke again.

"I haven't even looked for anybody," you said, so softly and so painfully that even priests in confessional booths would have hung their heads.

"How could you?" Bucky asked.

During the time before his head was really put back together, that is what everyone did with him. They challenged Bucky's questions, forced logic on him, rending much of the harmful conclusions he'd drawn about himself incorrect. It was a good strategy and he'd learned it well.

You half shrugged and kept crying. A cycle had begun in your mind. You were crying because you felt guilty, but that made you feel selfish and stupid. You thought you should be crying for other people. All of that, of course, made you feel more guilty, starting the cycle all over again. But maybe that cycle was easier to loop on than any real feelings of grief and loss.

"When were ya meant to have time to find people? Couldn't do it in the refuge centre. Too much goin’ on. And your hand was smashed, probably killin' you. And like Doc said - in shock," he said, paused, waited for a response.

Bucky's hands were moving up and down your back with enough pressure to calm you sobs into softer hiccups and sniffles.

"Yeah?" Bucky prompted. You nodded and shrugged simultaneously. "Okay, so, couldn't have done it on the way here or last night. You were exhausted. Could hardly keep yourself upright. Ain't much use to anybody like that."

You covered your nose with a tissue and sat up. Even if he didn't care, you didn't want him to see you with a face covered in snot. Bucky had the tact to look away while he continued. You listened as you wiped your face clean.

"This morning, whisked ya away to Medical. Then force fed you some food. And now, we're here. So, if you're asking me, darlin', not too sure when you think you were meant to do all this people finding, you know?"

Bucky could see it in your face that you knew he was right. When you nodded, saying, "I guess," he felt completely victorious.

You drank the glass of water Bucky poured for you, then took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three.

"Okay," you said, voice almost normal.

"Okay," he repeated in solidarity.

"Can we find them now?"

…

The room was definitely not for civilians, but nobody stopped Bucky from walking in with you. It was a buzzing hub of activity and urgency. Voices spoke fast, people moved faster.

"It's kind of like a command centre," Bucky tried to explain. "Whenever there's a threat, we have a response team that do… I guess what would happen if there was an earthquake or somethin'. Search and rescue. Coordinating relief."

You nodded and stayed close to Bucky's side, not wanting to get in anyone's way.

"Sergeant Barnes," a very tired woman greeted.

"Hey. I'm really sorry to-"

"No time for that. What can we do for you?" she cut him off.

"Finding people that were in the attack zone," he replied.

"Everything we know, F.R.I.D.A.Y. knows. Integrated systems. Find a computer, preferably not in here, and ask her. Anything else?"

"No. Thank-" but she was gone.

Bucky hooked an arm around your waist and walked you back to the elevator.

"She was amazing," you said.

Bucky grinned. "Never met her before, but yeah, lot of people like that around here."

On a floor of the tower that was much calmer, Bucky and you sat in what you supposed was some sort of crazy high-tech boardroom.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"James,"

"Oh, it's James now?"

"Yes. How can I be of assistance?"

The first step was making a list of everyone you knew who lived or worked in the part of D.C. that was affected. You named them, confirmed through social media accounts and DMV records.

"Do you guys have access to, like, everything?" you asked Bucky.

"Probably shouldn't answer that," Bucky replied, winking.

Step two was all F.R.I.D.A.Y. "I work fast, but I'd like to check my work, Y/N," she told you.

"If you can, can you check with-" Bucky went to ask.

"First responder reports?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

"Must be the day for being cut off by women smarter than me, huh?"

"I could be mistaken, James, but isn't that every day?"

Bucky laughed, looked at you for back up, but saw you staring at screen in front of you. The list of names.

Once you'd actually made it, you realised there were likely less people to find than you first though. Your housemate, Lucas, was a bike courier. He may have been out of the zone, 50/50 chance. Elizabeth, your best friend, lived on the next block over. She was home when the attack happened. You were watching her Instagram live; she was feeding her pet snake, Salem. Then, the girls at the hole in the wall café you worked at, Glory. You didn't know who was shift, so you listed all five.

There were more, but felt like naming everyone you knew would be greedy somehow. Bucky said, when you were ready, you could look through the list of the deceased. Even hearing the phrase made you feel sick though.

"Do you want to wait here?" Bucky asked.

You turned to him, ran your hands through your hair. "I don't know… I can't…" but whatever you couldn’t, you couldn’t even articulate.

Bucky nodded. "How about we get some fresh air? When we get back, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will have something for us?"

…

Out on the street, everything was loud. The whole back-in-reality thing really took you off guard. Seeing the city from the top of the Tower was different to this.

"I got ya," Bucky said, coming to walk right by your side. You looked over at him, and he offered his hand. You immediately accepted.

As you walked by multiple cafés, you wondered if Bucky had a favourite, or maybe there was a secret superhero club behind a hidden door in an inconspicuous bodega or Chinese restaurant. Alas, earwax - no such luck. Bucky held the door of a standard looking café open.

The guy behind the coffee machine nodded. "Buck,"

"Hey, Gee,"

"Seen ya's all on the news. Everyone okay?" Gee the barista asked, the genuine concern evident in his tone and expression.

"Ah, yeah. You know - nothing they can't handle," Bucky replied; you suspected it was the party line.

"Good, good. What can we get for ya then?"

"Don't worry about it, bud. I'll jump in line."

Gee shook his head and smiled as Bucky took his place in the queue to order. "You wanna grab a table? Or wait with me?" he asked you.

"Stay," you replied, stepping closer to him.

While you held your body in a way that shielded your broken bones from people's paths, it was easy being close to Bucky. He was probably very accustomed to being around the injured, so never accidentally hit the cast. You were grateful.

Bucky reached out and curled hair behind your ears, then leaned in to kiss the top of your nose. It was intimate, and brought solace. It was also very public; as he moved away, started greeting the girl at the counter, you realised there were more than a few pairs of eyes on you. Turning from the room, you stood closer to Bucky and listened to their conversation.

"You know I can't tell you that," Bucky said, leaning against the counter like he owned it.

"But, like, it's over, right? We won?"

"Tiff, would I be standing here if there was something else I could be doing?"

Tiff nodded, made a face like she'd been let in on a state secret. "Hmmm," she pondered for a second. Then, with pep, "So, the usual then? For one of Earth's mightiest heroes?"

Bucky rolled his eyes at her. "I hate you," he joked before looking at you. "What will it be?"

You hadn't really thought as far as ordering. Already feeling self-conscious and spaced out, the burning in your cheeks was getting hotter.

"Thinking maybe a pot of tea to share?" Bucky suggested, casual, but also sending you a quick wink - he was saving you again.

"Tea's great," you said.

After ordering, Bucky chose a couple of oversized armchairs by the window to sit in. He let you breathe, let you stare through the glass and people watch for a long time. He answered messages on his phone, checked in with Steve while you daydreamed. So deep in thought, or maybe just completely zoned out, you didn't even notice Bucky had made a call, or that the pot of tea had been placed on the small table between you.

Bucky said your name, but you failed to move. He reached out, tapped a knuckle against your knee. You gasped, felt your heart skip a beat.

"Sorry!" he said immediately. "Didn’t mean to scare you…"

"No, it's alright. I'm just… um,"

"You're alright, darlin'. How do you take your tea?"

It was a simple enough question, but you looked down at the table like it was all alien.

"Maybe you can make your own," Bucky said, pushing the tea tray closer to you. "Give you something to focus on. Bring you back down to earth."

…

Although you were hardly touching your tea or the cookies the staff brought over as a gift, Bucky let you sit for much longer than what anyone normally would. It was starting to get dark, the café closing around you, when you finally seemed to become aware of the rest of the world again.

"Oh. Should we go?"

"Sure," Bucky replied, standing and holding his hand out again.

After thanking everyone, you were out in the city, walking back to the Tower.

The silence that existed between you and Bucky was a comfortable one, but the closer you got to your destination, the more nervous you felt. Something in your mind snapped, told you to try to be normal. So, you started to talk. Fast. And a lot.

"Do you all go there? Like, the Avengers? It was nice. They really like you. The cookies were good-"

Bucky cut in, stopping you more than actually wanting to answer. "It's easier to go to the same places. The novelty of us eventually wears off," he told you.

"Yeah, people don't really stop staring, do they? Must get tiring, having everyone watch you all the time. And treat you different." You internally begged yourself to shut the fuck up.

"Guess I don't really know what 'normal' would be… Don't like people giving me free stuff all the time though. Don't need it. Not really a skip-the-line type of guy," he said.

You wondered how much charity he needed after Steve brought him back into the fold. Instead of asking about that, you thankfully went with, "Must be nice sometimes though?"

Bucky thought for a second. It was one of the changes in personality he experienced after Hydra. Bucky in the 30s and early 40s was a little bit of an attention seeker, a true lover of the limelight. Not so much anymore. He thought of you then - how you'd considered him to be a hero, and how you had needed him. How you still needed him.

"Maybe there's a couple perks."

You nodded, went quiet again. Bucky noticed that you switched between that frantic, almost manic state and scary quiet a fair bit. He rolled with it, a little notorious for the odd mood swing himself.

It was in the elevator of Stark Tower that you started to get jittery. The palms of your hands started to sweat, but Bucky didn't let go. He also tried to not seem like all of his attention was fixated on you, but it was. When he took you back to his suite, rather than the crazy high-tech boardroom, he thought about explaining why, but figured it wasn't one of the main things on your mind.

Sitting on the couch in the same place you'd eaten burritos for brunch, you pulled the knitted blanket back over yourself.

"Ready?" Bucky asked, sitting down next to you and putting a glass of water and box of tissues on the coffee table. You nodded. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., how'd you go?"

You felt sick, real deep down in your stomach. It was a pushing force, making you hot and uncomfortable. Suddenly, the blanket was too heavy and you pushed it away with a weird anger.

Bucky wanted to hold you, but he knew the sensation of feeling trapped by grief. He gave you space and braced himself for what was about to hit you.

"I'm not sure what the best order to deliver this is," F.R.I.D.A.Y. admitted. She knew the limits of her programmed humanity, and it was probably the most impressive thing about her.

"Good news first," Bucky said.

"I've located Lucas and Elizabeth. Lucas is currently residing in an apartment just outside the affected zone. It belongs to a Jacob Short,"

"That's his boyfriend's dad," you said, nodding to yourself. Lucas was safe.

"Elizabeth is currently admitted to Howard University Hospital. She has a broken clavicle and humerus, and damage to the glenohumeral joint - all to her right side. She is in stable condition."

You breathed out hard, then took a tissue to your face. You'd not even noticed that you'd started to cry.

"Glory was destroyed," F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued.

That's when you looked up from the patch of floor you'd been staring at. On the screen of the television, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been showing you relevant things - the Facebook status geotagging Lucas at his boyfriend's family home, the rental agreement that showed who lived at that address, Elizabeth's medical records, even security footage of her in the hospital.

You shouldn't have looked up.

For a moment, Bucky didn't understand why your breathing had all but stopped. Average people don't get a slideshow to accompany their bad news. He looked at the screen. A photo, then another, showed the entire building Glory was a part of reduced to rubble.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., maybe we don't need the show with the tell," Bucky said.

"No!" you yelled. "I need to see."

If there was information, visual or verbal, you needed it.

"I logged into WorkForce using your credentials to view the roster. Two people were working at the time of the attacks: Carly Underwood and Ellie Gilbert," F.R.I.D.A.Y. told you. Before she said it, you knew it. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Both have been put on the list of deceased. Carly has been identified officially. Ellie is pending, but using our facial recognition and matching, I can confirm it's her."

You stood up, ripping the hoodie you were wearing off. If it was too hot before, now you felt like you were made of lava.

Bucky watched you start to pace. Your expression was alarmingly flat.

"The rest of your co-workers are safe. Only a Tara Constantine was in the affected area. She was on a bus moved to safety by Peter Parker."

There was footage taken from somebody's phone of Spiderman saving bus and carloads of people.

"I used your social media accounts to create an index of known people. As far as I can tell, you do not directly know anyone else on the list of deceased."

The phrase was still making you feel sick.

Bucky mistook that as F.R.I.D.A.Y. being finished. He thanked her, asked her to keep him updated if anything changed.

"Sorry, Sergeant. There's more."

Both you and Bucky went still. What else could there be?

"Your parents, Y/N,"

"They live on the other side of the city. Probably worried about me, right?" You turned to the screen, expected to see a worried Facebook posted asking if anyone had seen you. How could telling them you were safe not be your first thought? Stupid. Selfish.

On the screen was a grainy traffic cam photo of your parents driving. It was time and date stamped.

"They're fine," you said.

"Y/N, I'm sorry… Your parents aren't on the list of deceased-"

"Yeah, because they're fine!"

Suddenly, you remembered you did call them. You were still in the refuge centre, and it took you an hour to find someone with a phone willing to share. First, you called your dad, but it went straight to voicemail. Your mum didn't pick up. Only a month before, they'd had the landline switched off. How did you forget calling?

"But using street surveillance, I tracked their car into the affected zone. They got caught in the attack-"

"No. No. They hate that part of town. I didn't even move in that long ago and they already hate it. There's no reason for them to be there," you said, angry. No reason… except you.

"I checked through unidentified photographs-" she tried to continue, her voice noticeably more robotic than Bucky had ever heard it. He was grateful to have her then.

"The what?" you asked, confused and flustered and still feeling so fucking sick.

Bucky sighed, figured he should explain that one. "It's the same as natural disasters… When they find bodies, move them to try to identify them, they make a catalogue of photos to help. F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s saying she checked through them,"

"So? They're fine,"

"Our facial recognition and matching have a 100% accuracy record, but… I could be wrong," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

Bucky knew she wasn't, and was discomforted by her attempt at gentleness.

"Wrong about what?" you spat, already knowing.

"I believe your parents have passed away,"

"Show me," you said.

"Y/N, I-" from Bucky.

"Show me!" you yelled, moving to the screen, standing so close you swore you could feel the electricity buzzing from it.

The photographs from traffic cams were still up, static. You stared them down, waiting.

Bucky walked to you, stood behind you, held his breath.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't speak again. She showed you all the photos of your parents she had found to base her conclusion on. The reach of her skills became apparent and terrifying. There was no way she and everything she could do, was legal. As photos from private accounts, devices, and websites flashed up, along with dozens from the DMV and work place IDs, you felt all the heat you'd brewed up drain from you.

Your body began to meltdown - you needed to pee, your mouth went dry, and earaches formed out of nowhere. It felt like you were being stabbed in the lower back. None of it made sense.

The screen went still again.

"Show me," you said once more.

Two overexposed photographs appeared on screen. Both were framed similarly - head shots of undeniably dead people. Also undeniable was the fact that they were the corpses of your parents.

"Turn it off," Bucky said.

The screen went black but you didn't look away. As long as you stayed there staring, the image wouldn't fade. You could see them in your mind. You could see the indent in your father's head, skull visible. You could see the blood on your mother’s face. Tape held their eyelids closed.

"Y/N," Bucky whispered, standing close. He waited for a response. Time was ticking by excruciatingly slowly. "Y/N, I'm gonna help you to bed," he said, but you flinched, so he stopped moving towards you. "Okay… That's okay. You can stay-" but before he could end the sentence with 'here,' you screamed out a guttural cry that mutated into sobbing.

Very quickly for Bucky then, time sped up again. It was moving too fast though. Your legs gave up, and he caught you only just before hitting the floor. You crawled out of his arms, along the floor, dry heaving between sobs and yelped of pain as you ignored the fact one hand was crushed. In the couple of seconds it took him to work out if you were going to throw up, you did. You puked all the Mexican and tea you'd had, then continued to crawl, making it close enough to a wall that you could lay on your side and lean against it.

Bucky knelt in front of you, tried to pull your hair into the tie that was usually around his wrist. Once successful, he went to retrieve a cold, wet wash cloth. He wiped your face but gave up when the sobbing seemed to get louder. He could make out words sometimes. For the most part, there was nothing coherent in your mind to articulate. You curled up into a ball, switching between deep sobs and outright screams.

Eventually, it all subsided into an even crying but you stayed in a tight ball. Bucky sat beside you, pressed close enough that he could feel each movement you made. After hours, once you'd gone quiet, Bucky whispered, "I'm gonna look after you, Y/N. Promise."

Chapter 6 coming soon...

Tag list for So Far Away: @animegirlgeeky @howthehellisbucky @dumbubblegum @chipilerendi 

Tag list for all my work: @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter @fairislesheets (of course it doesn’t let me tag you! I’ll message you)

Tag lists are open - message me to be added. 

#mine #So Far Away #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes reader insert #Marvel #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky Barnes x You

[sunlightdances]

One Heartbreak Closer to You (2/3)

– You’re not sure how you missed the fact that three fucking Avengers moved into the apartment across the hall from you, but you did, and now they always seem to be around at the most inopportune times. 

 Author: Katie @sunlightdances Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: PG-13 (this part, just a bit of cursing) Author’s Note: This part is longer than the first because I have a problem. Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, or any of the characters. Please don’t re-post my work on any other sites without my permission! Reblogs are okay and welcomed. 

You’re making dinner a few nights later when there’s a knock on your door. You frown - you didn’t buzz anyone up to your floor.

Looking out of the peephole, you don’t see anyone, so you slowly undo the locks and open the door. There’s a small paper bag in front of the door with a note attached, the loopy scrawl unfamiliar to you.

You bend down to pick it up and are surprised at the weight of the bag. Looking inside, a smile blooms across your face when you see it full with fresh fruit and veggies. The note on the front reads, Hope these are better than the ones you dropped. - JB

You instinctively look at the apartment across the hall, even though you know the door is closed. You find that you’re sort of disappointed that he didn’t wait long enough for you to come to the door, but you try not to take it personally.

Heading back to the kitchen, you shut and lock the door behind you, already planning ways you can use your newly acquired bounty in your dinner prep. It was a kind gesture, really. You half expected to never see the three of them again unless something crazy was going on.

You finish dinner - stir-fry vegetables with rice and warmed pita bread - and sit down to eat, when you find yourself staring at the door. What if you-- you shake your head, not giving yourself time to second guess.

Abandoning your plate, you quickly head across the hall and knock on the door. It’s only a few seconds before you can hear cautious footsteps.

The door opens a small fraction.

“Um, hi,” you say, waving.

The door opens wider. “Hi,” he says.

The two of you just… sort of stare at each other for a few seconds. “I just wanted to thank you for the groceries.” You tell him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I-- It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You smile, watching the tension in his shoulders slowly dissipate. “I used some of the stuff you got me and made dinner. I made too much, actually. I was wondering if you wanted to-- if you haven’t already eaten, that is--”

“I’d love to.” He blurts, looking surprised at his own words.

You smile again. “Okay. Well… follow me, then.”

You hear him shut the door behind him and flip the lock, and you smile before turning around. There’s nervous energy buzzing through you and him, but you’re determined not to show it.

He walks into your living room, keen gaze taking in every inch of his surroundings. His gaze lingers on the photos of you and your family, and a few of you and your friends. You watch as he reaches out and trails his hand over the back of your couch, before he looks up and meets your eyes, looking sheepish. “Sorry. That’s rude, I--”

“It’s fine, Bucky.” Your eyes widen. “I-- is it okay that I call you that? I can call you James--”

“Bucky is fine.” He says, a small smile on his lips. “I like your apartment. It’s a lot cozier than ours.”

He meets you at the small table where you’re dishing up a plate for him, before you both slide into your chairs.

“How long have you lived there?” You ask, genuinely curious. You don’t know how you missed them.

“A few months,” he says, gesturing with his right hand, fork and all. “Wanted to get away from… well, everything.”

You nod. You don’t really know what to say and now you’re worrying that you’re out of your depth. How do you talk to a guy like this? An actual superhero?

You’re both quiet for a few minutes, tucking into your food. You feel like you can practically hear the gears turning in Bucky’s head, and you want to laugh at how awkward you’re both being.

“What’s so funny?” He asks around a mouthful, the corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement. For a second you’re struck by the idea that he must look incredible when he smiles.

“Nothing, I just-- I feel so awkward. I’m sorry if I’m the worst host of all time.”

“Can’t be a worse host than I am a guest,” he points out, and you snort. He grins, and - yep, you were right. He’s got a great smile. “Conversation used to be my strong suit, I think.” He says, giving you a look, and for a second you’re frozen, not sure if you should laugh or not. “It’s a joke,” he says. “You can laugh.”

“Sorry--”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re-- it’s fine. I’m still…” He trails off. You feel awful, immediately. The whole point of this was to treat him like your neighbor, like someone you could see becoming your friend.

“It was funny.” You reassure him.

He looks at you with something like gratefulness in his eyes.

.

.

.

Bucky wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He’s practically vibrating with anxiety in the first place, and then he had to go and put his foot in it.

He remembers when he was funny, sort of. He remembers a time, certainly, when he could crack a self-deprecating joke and people wouldn’t freeze, not sure how to react.

Still, she doesn’t seem put off. She takes it in stride and continues to eat like nothing’s out of the ordinary. He’s grateful for it. He just wants to have dinner with his neighbor.

When he bought her the groceries, he thought it was too much. Then he chickened out at the last second and dashed back into his apartment before she could find him there, lingering like an idiot. The only way it could have been worse is if Sam or Steve had been home. But he was alone for dinner tonight, another instance of the stars aligning so that he could be here with her right now.

He likes her apartment. It feels lived in. There’s memories all over the place - photos on the wall and gently-used books on the shelves and on the coffee table. There’s a collection of blankets on the couch and a mug in the sink.

She’s a great cook, too, if dinner is any indication. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. It was probably at one of Stark’s mandatory-but-don’t-make-me-tell-you-it’s-mandatory team dinners. Somehow, this is better. He thinks it’s the company.

“So…” He starts, “What do you do?” It comes out more awkward than he intends it to, and he thinks he’s going to give her a run for her money in the ‘who’s more awkward’ contest.

She swallows. “Uh, I’m- sort of in between jobs right now.” She looks down at her plate. “Just, you know, exploring my options…”

He nods slowly. “Uh huh.” He pauses, “What sort of work are you looking for? Stark is always recruiting--”

“Oh, god, no.” She blurts, then blushes.. “Sorry! I just mean-- I’m definitely not cut out for that kind of thing. I mean, I can barely make it down the stairs without tripping over my own feet, let alone trying to fight off whoever it is--”

“I meant like, an office job, or something. At Stark Industries.” Bucky says, trying not to laugh at the look on her face. “I could see if there’s anything floating around.”

“Oh. Right.” She says, and shakes her head. “God, sorry. I don’t know why I’m so…” She just sort of, flails her hands about, and he’s positive it’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“What do you say we start over?” He asks, content with the way she immediately settles, a relieved albeit embarrassed smile on her face.

“Only if it means you’ll forget you met me sprawled on the floor in the hallway.”

He grins. “Not a chance.”

.

.

.

You see Bucky on and off for the next few weeks. You start ramping up your job search, so you see him in the mornings when you’re both leaving the building, and grab coffee from the place on the corner with him a few times.

Several of those times, Sam and Steve join you, but mostly it’s just you and Bucky. He’s a lot different than he seemed when you first met him. You catch glimpses of this stoic, serious person, mostly when you’re in a large crowd with him, but other times, he seems more sure of himself. More at ease.

You don’t take Bucky up on his offer to introduce you to Pepper Potts. It’s not that you don’t think you’d like the job, but you hate charity, and that’s what it feels like, even if you know Bucky just wants to help you. He must have mentioned it to Steve, because now you’ve got two super soldiers constantly badgering you to come to Stark Tower in Manhattan or come to the Avengers Compound upstate to meet her or meet the rest of the team.

You’re content here in your little apartment, and you don’t want to change that. Not right now.

There’s a week where you don’t see Bucky at all. You don’t think he’s home - you haven’t heard or seen anything happening in the apartment across the hall, and you wonder if he’s on some kind of mission.

The thought immediately makes your heart clench, and you know you have to get over yourself. You’ve only known the guy for a few weeks. You’re friends, and that’s all. There’s no reason for you to worry.

You’re on your way home from dinner with a friend when you stop at the coffee shop and are fumbling in your purse looking for cash when a hand thrusts itself towards the cashier, handing her a few bills.

Your heart flies to your throat until you recognize his voice. “This should cover it,” he says, his voice rough, and you turn around to greet him before the sound dies in your throat.

There’s no sugar-coating it - he looks terrible. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and stitches with a butterfly bandage over his left eyebrow and on his cheekbone. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair pulled back from his face except for a few tendrils that have escaped around his ears.

“Hi,” you say, strangely breathless. “You scared me,” you say, a teasing tone to your voice, but he misses it and winces.

“Sorry. I was walking home and saw you.”

His voice is dull. No emotion.

“Are you okay?” You ask, trying to meet his eyes.

“Like, in general? Or right this minute?” His eyes dart up, and they’re a little wild, a little desperate. “Because right now, I feel like--” He stops himself when the barista calls your name, signalling your coffee is ready.

“Hang on,” you tell him, absently squeezing his metal hand as you brush by him to get to the counter.

When you glance back, he’s staring at his hand. Your heart clenches again.

“Come on,” you say softly, and he follows you without a word, exiting the shop with you so you can start walking. “Do you want to go home, or--”

“Can we-- will you walk with me?”

“Sure, Bucky.”

You let him lead the way, even though you don’t think he has a specific destination in mind. He’s frowning, and you wish you had the words to say to see that smile on his face again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him quietly, not wanting to startle him.

He takes a deep breath. “Not really. I know I should, but…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He stops on the sidewalk, looking down at you. He’s got a few inches on you, but it’s not intimidating. Especially not with the way his shoulders are hunched down, practically folding in on him. “I don’t know how to do this.” He says. “I don’t know how to be a person that other people depend on to help. I’ve done things…” he shakes his head, “I’ve done awful things.”

Your heart cracks a little, because you’ve always only seen him as a hero.

“Look,” you say, trying to find the words, “I don’t know what you’re going through. I can’t pretend to ever understand how you’re dealing with all this. But Bucky… the person I know? He’s a hero, okay? It’s a lot of responsibility, and it’s not fair, but you’re… it doesn’t matter who you were before now, because you didn’t have a choice. Now you get to choose who you want to be.”

He looks… stunned. Like he has no idea what to say. Frankly, you don’t know either. You’re terrified you’ve said the wrong thing, or that he’s going to turn on his heel and leave you here because you couldn’t possibly understand.

He doesn’t.

He just-- he smiles, and that’s the first inkling you get that you’re about to be in big, big trouble when it comes to Bucky Barnes.

.

.

.

It’s late one night when Bucky hears your voice, loud, in the hallway. He’s on edge instantly because it’s almost two in the morning. Sam is asleep in his bedroom, and Bucky’s awake, still.

He creeps to the door slowly, trying to figure out if he’s just imagining things, or if you’re really out there.

He hears you again, and he cracks open the door and sees you down a couple doors, trying to fit your key into a lock that clearly isn’t yours. He’s momentarily distracted by the sight of you in a short, tight black dress, and a pair of high heels that make your legs look miles long.

You’re swaying a bit on your feet, and he grins when he realizes that you’re drunk. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you like this. He calls your name, and something inside him twists when you turn around, your eyes lighting up when you see him.

“Bucky!”

He smiles. “Hi. What are you doing down there?”

You frown. “Trying to go to bed, duh.”

“Uh huh.” He points a finger at your front door. “Might be easier if you don’t get arrested for breaking and entering, first.”

“What?”

He leaves his apartment and heads towards you, trying to get you away from the other apartment before whoever lives there hears you. “Wrong apartment, sweetheart.”

You giggle, the sound going straight to his heart. “That’s impossible. I’ve lived here for years, Bucky.”

“I know. Since college, right? How did you get home after parties in college, huh?” He asks, guiding you towards your apartment.

“Slept at a friend’s.”

He hums. “Sounds like that might have been a good idea tonight.”

“I’m fine!” You protest. “You’re just-- a little blurry.” You poke him in the chest, and he bites back a laugh. “Can you--” You’re shoving your purse into his hands before he has a chance to get your keys out of your hands.

You lean down and take off your shoes, leaving them dangling from one hand, and Bucky suddenly has a vision of you like this in your apartment after one too many glasses of wine, eyes a little glossy but bright and happy, hair mussed and face flushed. He has a vision of himself there with you, smiling as you tell him bad jokes, and he has to almost physically shake himself out of it.

“That’s better,” you sigh. “Now. If you could kindly point me in the direction of my bed, I’m going to sleep for the next twelve hours.”

Bucky chuckles. “Good idea.” He takes your arm and turns you to face your front door, grabbing the keys from you and sticking the right key in the lock for you. “There.”

“What would I do without you, Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky can’t speak. He’s too-- he’s overwhelmed with affection and nervousness, and the realization that he’s starting to have real, actual feelings for you. It scares him half to death.

.

.

.

When you wake up the next morning, you have to force your vision to focus long enough for your head to stop aching. You groan, rolling over, seeing a gatorade and a bottle of ibuprofen on your nightstand.

There’s also a note.

“Oh, no…” you whisper, reading it, your mortification growing.

Drink up, and take these after you eat something. Hope you’re not feeling too bad today. You’re welcome for keeping you out of jail. - JB

“God,” you groan, because you can barely remember seeing Bucky last night. You have a vague memory of strong arms helping you get into bed, and the cool touch of metal fingers to your cheek right before you drifted off.

But that had to be just your imagination, right?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #one heartbreak #bucky barnes fanfiction

[nothowonenightstandswork]

One Shot - Shape of You

Bucky x OC

Warnings: Language, Implied Intimacy

Notes: First time posting anything. I’m sure a million things are wrong about it. Cliche title is the song currently stuck in my head.  

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“You’re back early!” Sam replied from his seat in Bucky and Sam’s common area. He was on monitor duty tonight.

“Sam, it’s almost 4 in the morning. It’s not exactly early,” Bucky replied. Bucky’s suite of rooms are on the other side of the common space from where Sam is watching the monitors, lounging on the couch, and eating ice cream. He hadn’t really intended on staying out so late, but this time he didn’t let Sam’s needling get to him.

“You’re still the first one back... Well?” Sam pushed, “How’d it go? You check out that place I told you about?” The place Sam is referring to is, for lack of a better name, a bar for people with powers. The owner is apparently from Asgard. As a result, it’s one of the only places in town where the alcohol is strong enough to be effective.

“Yeah, we did. You were right, it’s…” Bucky smiles, thinking about his evening. “It’s more my speed.”

“Nah, man, I see that look! Give me the details! Desk duty is boring, let me live vicariously through you!”

“A gentleman never tells,” Bucky evades with a smile. “Night, Sam.” He continues on through the common room to his suite in the tower.

“Come on, I told you about the place, you owe me! Are you humming? What song is that! Share, man!”

“Good night, Sam.” With a backward wave, he shuts the door behind him.

                                                        ---

The soft click of the front doors being pulled gently closed, is loud as a shot, slicing through Val’s light doze. Instead of opening her eyes, she instead opens up the shields she uses to keep other people’s thoughts out and feels the space around her. The nearest awake mind is in the hall and moving away. He seems to be happy and is humming.

Oh! She thinks as she sits up in her now empty bed. The other side is still faintly warm from its recent occupant. The rest of the studio apartment is easily visible from her bed and the only clothes scattered around the floor are her own. Guess he had places to be, she chuckles to herself, as she stretches to turn on the bedside lamp. The clock says 3:15 am. She pulls the blankets back up onto the mattress and snuggles down underneath, waiting for sleep to arrive once more. Sleep returns reluctantly, indignant at being startled, and Val has just enough time to decide to be pleased with the evening’s outcome

Morning still arrived way too early. The sunlight glaring in through the top down shades. I purposely chose this apartment so that the sun would help me wake up, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. She thinks as she kicks the covers off petulantly. The motion awakens a few sore areas that make her smile quietly in remembrance. The phone ringing cuts quickly through her reverie. She darts from the bed to the bar separating the kitchenette from her bedroom/living area.

“Hello?” she answers. There can only be a few options as to caller, so she’s a little shocked to hear an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, Ms Bracca, this is Darlene calling from the Westside Veteran’s Center. I’m calling to inquire if you received our correspondence and to remind you that your appointment is at 9 this morning. Please bring your letter of introduction and a form of current ID. Thank you very much and we hope to see you soon.” The line abruptly goes dead.

“Uh, yes, Darlene. I did, Darlene. I will, Darlene. Good bye.” Val mutters to the phone. She checks the clock, it’s only 630am. Fuck you, Darlene. She adds mentally. No reason to call so early. Bullshit. If I didn’t need this contract, I’d…  she grumbles to herself and she walks to the only separate room in the apartment; the bathroom.

                                                         ---

“Rise and shine, Sam! The sun is up! We got work to do!” Bucky shakes Sam awake from where he has fallen asleep on the couch.

  “I will kill you, if you don’t let me sleep,” Sam mumbles from underneath his arm. He peeks blearly at his phone. “7am! The B Widow herself didn’t get back in to relieve me until 5, man. Two hours is not enough.”

“Suit yourself. I’m going to go workout. You stay here and sleep off your boring, non-vicarious night.” Bucky knew the one thing Sam liked more than sleep was gossip and was pretty confidant the goad would work.

“You know,” Sam says sitting up and tossing a cushion in Bucky’s direction. “You are pretty Up this morning. Do I detect a hint of… happiness?”

“Bucky hooked up last night,” Natasha interjects as she saunters into the room. “Why are you still sleeping, Sam? The sun is up.”

“Na-ta-sha.” Sam enunciates each syllable snarkily. “How the hell are you so cheery? You rolled in even later than he did.” Natasha doesn’t answer, just starts rummaging in the common kitchen’s cabinets. “Hey, lady, get your own coffee. That stuffs ours.”

“These aren’t,” Nat says, holding up a bag she’d pulled out from under the sink. “Later, fellas.”

“If you’re coming with me, get changed, Sam,” Bucky adds.

“Are we not going to talk about her hiding stuff in OUR rooms.”

“If you don’t hurry, we aren’t gonna talk about anything.” Instead of waiting, Bucky heads for the rec area.

Stark might not have been overly pleased that he was living here, but he wasn’t stingy with space. This floor housed a rec area and 3 sets of suites. Sam and Bucky shared one. Nat and Wanda shared the second. Steve and Clint shared the third. Clint had his own apartment in Bed-Stuy so Steve usually had his to himself. And Natasha tended to treat all common spaces as her own; squirreling away supplies in whatever area made the most sense at the time.

Today, the rec area was quiet. Steve liked to be up early and was finished with his morning workout before Bucky was dressed most mornings. Nat was on monitor duty, Clint was probably at his own place and Wanda has been out on assignment with Vision since last week. “Assignment.” Bucky thinks to himself.

He has barely started his warm-ups before Sam rushes in, hastily pulling a t-shirt on.

“So, you gonna tell me their name?” he picks up, as if no time has passed.

“No.” Bucky grunts while stretching.

“Are you going to see them again?” Sam pushes.

“No.”

“ A one night stand, huh? You surprise me, Barnes. You gonna tell me how you met?” Sam pries.

“No.” Bucky replies. The look on Sam’s face makes all the monosyllable answers worthwhile.

“OH COME ON!” Sam explodes. “Why the hell are you teasing me if you aren’t gonna tell me anything!”

“It got you to come work out, didn’t it?” Bucky grins at Sam’s visible irritation.

“I hate you,” Sam say flatly, “you know that right?”

Bucky had a great comeback ready, but was interrupted by Steve’s arrival.

“Sam! Suit up! Wanda called and she needs some back-up.”

“I’ll get my stuff,” Sam responds, suddenly all business. Steve turns to face Bucky.

“Buck--”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll hold the fort. Be careful out there.”

“We want you out there with us, we do, but-” Steve reaches out to put a comforting had on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Steve. I know. Go help Wanda.” Steve gives his shoulder a squeeze before nodding and heading for the elevator.

The Winter Soldier’s visibility in the intelligence agencies has been an open issue for awhile now. Stark, or more accurately, Maria Hill courtesy of Stark Industries has been working on it, but traction has been slow.

“Hey, man,” Sam says as he looks around the door; suit on, gear on his shoulder. “If you aren’t busy, I was supposed to interview a new therapist at the VA today. Why don’t you take that?”

“Sam, what do I know about therapists? Or interviews?”

“Look, man, trust your gut. And if you can’t, stall and I can take care of it when I get back.” Sam taps the door jamb once with his hand before walking off toward the elevator.

“Sam, what… time… is… the interview….” Bucky trails off as he hears the elevator doors close. He sighs.

                                                         ---

Where the FUCK is that letter of introduction? Val knows it was on the counter. Did it get knocked onto the ground in the moment last night? She’s checked the couch, under the couch, on top of the stools at thebar. Where could it… she eyes the note her guest had left last night before leaving.

Thank you, I had a wonderful evening. I thought it best not to wake you. -J

“Did he…,” Val flips over the paper and there it is, her letter of introduction from Sanctuary. She flips the letter back over to look at the note. It’s written in pen. “Of course it is!” she shouts. Letter in hand, she looks at the clock 8:30. She can make it if she runs. She grabs her coat, phone and keys, pulls the door shut behind her, goes back to lift up on the handle so it actually latches, and runs to the elevator and her appointment.

Sam’s office is even more boring than Bucky expected. Since moving here from DC, Sam had been put in charge of managing the outreach programs for the Westside Veteran’s Center. Part-time. Gratis, of course. “I’m hardly here,” he had said previously, “didn’t seem right to ask for money too.” The office, shared office, Bucky corrected himself, looked just as part-time as the position. Bare walls, no photos, two chairs and a desk. Even the small window looked out at a brick wall. Charming.

Sam’s secretary, Darlene had given him a thrice over and a gimlet stare when he’d arrived claiming to be performing Sam’s interview today. After a full two minutes of scrutiny, she’d finally shrugged and let him into the office. She wordlessly handed him a folder before going back to her desk. Inside was his information about his interviewee. He’d gotten through the first paragraph when he heard a woman’s voice outside.

                                                          ---

She made excellent time on her way here. It would have been faster if she was willing to just vault cars in public, but as it was she had ten full minutes to spare before the appointed time. The door to Sam Wilson’s office was closed when she’d arrived and a battleship of a woman was waiting impatiently, so Val spent a few minutes in the ladies’ room to neaten up. She didn’t have to LOOK like she’d ran here, after all.

I don’t know why I’m nervous, she thought. Just business as usual.

The door to the office was open when she exited the ladies’ room. The woman, Darlene, according to her nameplate, expressionlessly watched her approach.

“You must be Ms. Bracca,” she said before Val had even stopped. “Your assistant recommended that I call early this morning, in case you overslept. May I see your ID?” Val wordlessly fishes out her driver’s license and hands it over. A quick check and Darlene hands it back, before waving her toward the office just down the hall. “He’s in his office. Go ahead.”

“Uh. Thanks.” Val says before slipping her ID back into her jacket pocket. She pulls the letter of introduction out on the inside pocket of her coat. Folded in thirds, the note from last night’s anonymous paramour “J” is easily visible, so she unfolds the paper, and prays Sam Wilson doesn’t see it.

                                                            ---

Eight steps are all the warning he gets before a voice says from the doorway.

“Sam Wilson, I’m Valeria Bracca, from Sanctuary,” she says to his back.

Bucky turns as she extends her arm to hand him a piece of paper and freezes. Heat rushes to his face as he recognizes the woman from last night.

“You’re Sam Wilson?,” the woman asks, doubtfully. She either hasn’t recognized him or has a better poker face than he does. She’s prettier in the daylight, he thinks before snapping back to reality.

“Uh, no,” he stammers out. She takes two steps backward and glances at the nameplate beside the door.

“I’m going to assume you’re also not Jenna Cary, co-director of Veteran Outreach.” She continues.

“I’m also not her. Here, please, have a seat.” Manners that had been drilled into him kicking in. He walks around behind the desk, a much less potentially embarrassing place to be. “I’m James Barnes, Mr. Wilson had a… an unexpected event crop up and asked me to do this interview in his place.”

Ms. Bracca, Val according to the file Darlene handed him, hesitates for a few seconds before walking to the only other chair in the room. They both sit down at the same time.

“Mr. Barnes.” She says.

                                                             ---

The moment he turned around, Val knew this was not the man Netta, her assistant, had described. As soon as his face turned red, she recognized him as the man she’d taken home from Alastaar’s. Sheer force of will has kept her from blushing and leaving. Now, sitting, she realizes she’s still holding the paper.

“This is my letter of introduction,” he reaches over the desk to accept the paper. He looks curious and briefly flips it over before impossibly flushing an even brighter shade of red. Val raises an eyebrow and waits for him to speak. It quickly becomes evident he isn’t ready to start this interview, so Val begins.

“Mr… Barnes. I’m here as a representative of Sanctuary. We’ve been offered-”

“I’m sorry. Sanctuary?” he interrupts. The flush slowly draining from his face as they switch gears to business. She schools her face to hide her irritation.

“Right. You’re standing in for Mr. Wilson. Sanctuary is a non-profit organization focused on serving the housing and mental health needs of veteran and veteran adjacent individuals.” He leans forward and waits a beat before speaking.

“You help homeless people.” At her nod, he continues. “Why are you here then?”

“We recently secured a contract from the federal government to aid in the VA’s efforts in the same areas. I’m here as an introduction and to help smooth the way for cooperation between our two organizations.” He nods as he thinks that through.

“So, this is a done deal, and this interview is…”

“A formality, yes.” His shoulders visibly relax. Val smiles slightly at his obvious relief. “I assume Mr. Wilson didn’t brief you on any of this.”

“No, he did not.” The crack her little tiny smile left in her professional veneer elicits a grin of his own. “He was in a hurry, but I suspect he also didn’t tell me as revenge. Ah, Sam is my roommate,” he volunteers. She grins back.

“Revenge for what?” He turns red again and shifts uncomfortable in his seat. “You know, I think that is a topic for a different place. Uh,” he levers himself up out of the chair. Val stands as well. “You’re hired. Your people will talk to my people.” They shake hands professionally, although the grip softens slightly and lingers. He takes a quick breath before continuing. “Would you like to get lunch sometime? Well, today. I mean. Now?” Val can feel the warmth she’d been throttling back rush up to her cheeks.

“It’s still morning-”

“Breakfast then?” He gives her that same smile he’d had last night. That charming one that hits her right in the knees. “On me.”

“It’s a deal.”

                                                          ---

Darlene had, unexpectedly, recommended this diner without prompting as they had exited Sam’s office. Apparently the acoustics in the hall are perfect for eavesdropping.

“Is there… any way… I can convince you to not tell Sam about this?” he had asked the smug woman.

“Oh, honey, no chance in hell,” she had replied wickedly. “You two have a nice time.”

“I think I’m gonna pay for this,” he had said before glancing back at Val. “Shall we?”

                                                          ---

“This isn’t my area of expertise,” Val says over coffee from across the table, “but this isn’t typically how one night stands are supposed to go.” Bucky finishes chewing and swallowing a bit of toast before replying.

“Well, I don’t think fate typically makes people bump into each other again hours later.”

“Is that what this is?’ she asks. “Fate?” He shrugs.

“Maybe on my part. Plans change last minute…” a thought occurs to him and he pulls her letter of introduction out of his pocket and hands it back. “I, ah, didn’t think you’d want my note in an official file.” She grins and accepts the paper.

“That’s probably for the best. I’ll have another copy sent over.” She tucked the paper back into her jacket pocket. “You know, my assistant usually does these interviews. She’s doing the interview in Albany this morning and sent me here in her stead.”

“See. Fate.” He gestured with his last piece of toast to emphasize his point. Val shakes her head.

“Alright, I concede,” she sets her empty mug aside. She grins mischievously and leans toward him. “So, what does Fate have in store for you the rest of the morning?” Bucky stretches his arms over his head and smiles widely.

“Well, I’ve seen your place. Want to come see mine?”

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #first fanfic #be gentle #not smut

[omnomsauruswrites]

Angel of Death Chp 16

Pairing: Veteran!Bucky x medic!reader

Summary: How many times can you save a life?

Warnings: Depression, PTSD, flashbacks, suicidal attempt.

Masterlist

“The land that has been a ping pong ball between conquerors and imperial states,” she sighed, as she stared at the expansive desert beyond the wall.

“You shouldn’t be this close to the wall,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah. A sniper could put a bullet in my head, I know,” she waved off. Her eyes never left the sandy view before her.

“What happened?”

She turned towards her companion. He was freshly washed and in a clean set of PT gear. She was still in a dirty flight suit that hadn’t been cleaned in 24 hours. She looked tired, so did he. The war took its toll on both of them.

“21-year-old male, expecting father, died on the gurney as we ran him into the hospital.” She turned away from him and back to the wall. “It reminded me of my dad’s story of how a medic saved his life when I was 9 and my sister was due. And now I’m the medic who took her father away.”

His hand went to her shoulders turning her towards him. “Listen to me, doll. I know you. I know you gave it your all to save his life. You can’t blame yourself for every loss or it will eat you alive.”

After visiting Rhodey, she walked to Sam’s headstone. She stared at it, arms crossed. Her heart was in a million pieces in her chest. Clint had texted her after the deposition, relayed that the gang had watched it all including Bucky. He didn’t go into any other detail, didn’t get into Bucky’s emotional state since finding out who she truly was.

“He knows, Sam,” she whispered. She pushed the tears from her cheeks. “God, he’s going to hate me. You two…. You two were inseparable. And I took you away from him.”

She sobbed. Her knees buckled and she collapsed. “It’s all my fault that you aren’t here and he’s going to know that. Why is it all happening at once? Why? Stark? This? Who hates me up there so much? Or is this karma?”

Bucky stared at the easel in the corner. It had been there for months even after he broke the canvas, taunting him. ‘Y/n suggest that…’ It’s what Steve had said. She knew. She had knew about the dream of owning a tattoo shop with Sam and Steve. She had fucking known and that’s why she had given him the canvas.

She had saved him, again. He still didn’t understand that part. She did it once, but why would she do it twice? ‘she loves you,’ Nat had said. Did she still love him? Is that why she was so scared? Had she been hiding from three years from him right under his nose? ‘You didn’t remember her.’ That part was true. She had always been a blur. But now, the dreams had her in focus, the puzzle was complete. Memories of them being in the desert happened more frequently since they started running and even more after they started hanging out.

“You are staring really hard there, punk,” Steve commented, bringing Bucky out of his daydream.

“She knew,” he murmured.

“Of course, she knew.”

There was silence until Steve turned in a page in his book. “Why didn’t she say anything?” Bucky voiced.

He heard the book close and Steve move on the leather couch. “Buck, the girl is scared. Clint explained it to you. She doesn’t interact with people she saves. Too scared of their reactions, good and bad. It’s understandable. But she pushed it aside for you. Pushed it aside for me. I have to commend her for that. Though she thought that we wouldn’t put the pieces together. Or at least, that’s what she hoped.”

“But.. I promised.”

“Promised?” Steve asked, looking quizzically at his friend.

“Before the incident, I promised her a date.”

“And she blamed herself for letting Sam die, she wasn’t going to cash in on the date. She’s been so scared of you harboring hate and guilt against her for Sam. And while you do, you never blamed her. You blamed yourself.”

“I was his NCO, of course it was my fault.”

“Did you ever express that to her?”

“Fuck.”

“HOW COULD YOU?!”

She tried not to cower. She felt the tears that brimmed her eyelashes and saw his strong, bulky figure in front of him.

“YOU TOOK AWAY MY BEST FRIEND! YOU TOOK AWAY A PIECE OF ME!”

“I didn’t ….” she choked out.

“YOU ARE A KILLER, YOU KNOW THAT! YOU LEFT HIM TO DIE!”

“I tried to….”

“IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU IN THAT BUILDING DYING LIKE YOU LET SAM DO! YOU TRUELY ARE AN ANGEL OF DEATH!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” she screamed as well she jolted up in bed.

Sweat dripped from her brow. Her shirt stuck to her skin, her breath was ragged. She stared at the wall in front of her. It was just a nightmare, just a vivid nightmare of Bucky, yelling how much he hated her. She sighed.

Two days back in NYC and the nightmares jarred her awake since she ran into Stark. It either had Bucky hating her or having him die in her arms. She pushed the sheets off her legs and threw off the shirt. She glance at her clock, 4 a.m.

She gathered her running clothes and went to change. A run. She needed a run.

Her office door had been closed Wednesday and Thursday. She hadn’t popped into classes like she normally did. Bucky hadn’t expected her full withdrawl. It wasn’t like her to completely withdraw from activities. He had seen her on previous bad days and she still stepped in and forced a smile.

He waited after class on Thursday night to talk to Nat. She was packing her bag when he asked, “How is she?”

Nat looked up from her task and to him. “She’s not answering calls.” Concern broke through him. “She texted when she got back but that’s it. She took some sick time. I know that but she’s not ….”

He watched her hesitate. He knew Y/n didn’t like her business plastered everywhere. She was reserved and closed off despite what she pushed patrons to do. “Look, if she’s in the same place she was after the hospital, she won’t answer anyone. She reverts back into herself. Her depression and PTSD will be back full force. But knowing her, she won’t seek out help. Won’t seek me or Clint out.”

He watched tears fill her eyes. His heart clenched because it was obvious how much y/n was loved. He stepped towards her, placing his hand on her arm. She patted in, knowing he wasn’t used to comforting others. “She survived the military hearings. I don’t know if she’ll survive this.”

She opened the door to her office. It was stuffy after the week away. She sighed. She had so much to catch up, plus interview requests to ignore. She walked in placing her bag and purse near her couch. She pushed open the curtains, opening the window. Her fingers went through her shorter hair, a decision she made after too many sleepless nights. She needed change.

Her eyes flitted around her office, recalling her last conversation in it. The one that revealed that she was indeed Bucky’s medic on that fateful day. She sighed. She hadn’t talked to him. Though he hadn’t reached out. She hadn’t talked to Nat, Clint or Wanda either. She had cut off all communicate since returning to the City.

Nightmares plagued her about Bucky’s reaction. Her morning runs were often at 3 a.m. now. It allowed her a few hours of sleep afterwards before the autumn sun rose in the sky. Her eyes refocused on her desk, noticing a small box. It was white. She hadn’t left it there. Her hand went to pick it up, noticing her call sign scribled on the box. No note, just the word Mercy. She lifted the lid to reveal a leathter and silver bracelet with a wing on the end.

She looked back at the writing on the lid. It was neat, but all caps. She knew the handwriting, she knew … Bucky.

She slipped her hat into her flight suit as she walked the hall to the DFAC. She tried not to yawn. It was too early or too late depending on how one saw it. The dining facility was practically empty. Night shift had already eaten, but the hall was open for stragglers like her. She pulled a tray with her as she collected some eggs and toast, then an apple. She went to a far table and slowly started eating, as she stared into space.

It was minutes later, when a tray was placed across from her that she pulled out of her daze. Her eyes focused and then refocused on the man before her - tall, muscley, too die for eyes, Barnes.

He smiled softly at her before murmuring a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey there, Sarge. You are up late,” she replied, biting off a piece of bacon.

“Night shift.” She hummed. “Mind if I sit?”

She shook her head. It was the first conversation they had alone. She recalled Sam, telling her Barnes thought she was a hero. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “So… enjoying the war?” He choked on the orange juice, he had sipped. She chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Who enjoys war, doll?”

“Those who get paid the big bucks. The ones making the guns and the bullets. Certainly not us.”

“That’s an interesting view.”

She shrugged, taking another bite. They sat in silence for a few minutes. She sipped on her juice, before conversing again. “Sorry, I just got done with a long shift.”

His blue eyes met hers in understanding. “I get it, doll. Life of a medic isn’t easy. Especially a medic like you.”

“A medic like me?” she asked innocently, as his cheeks turned crimson.

“Well … you know….”

“I don’t really.” She arched her eyebrow at him and she watched him squirm a little.

“You just have the best record.”

She nodded slightly. “So I’m told.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“I just do my job. Just like you do yours. I’m not in it for the accolades or the trophies.”

He smiled at her. “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

@scuzmunkie  @cari105 @soldierplum @muggleluna @valkyrieofsmut @coal000 @xxashy999xx @wishingforahome @lokissoul @infinitycaprogers @randomfandompenguin @verygraphicink @givemethatgold @marvelausmylife @keldachick @slender--spirit @chook007 @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @jessieray98 @purely-imagines-and-fantasies @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @existingovertherainbow @calwitch @flashfanfics @creepshowzombae @everythingisoverrated @marvelausmylife @ex-bookjunky @winchesterswantmypie @ven9eance6661 @crownofmanga @38leticia @dracris33 @ladylovelyfan @mypage-myfandoms @everything-is-awesomesauce @jamiedr

#angel of death #angelofdeath #bucky angst #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you

[not-close-to-straight]

Stetsons/Schoolteachers (Eleven)

SAS MASTERLIST HERE

*************************

Bucky didn’t mean to pass out on the couch after dinner, but Stevie made an amazing lasagna and after three whole servings, the big Alpha had fallen asleep half way through a glass of milk.

It was a good nap, and a shockingly long nap, because he woke when the clock chimed ten pm, bolting awake on the couch and staring wildly around the dark room.

“Easy there, Rip Van Winkle.” Steve was circling things in a catalogue at his desk. “You ate half a lasagna and drank about a gallon of milk before face planting on the couch, remember?”

“My stomach hurts.” Bucky groaned, rubbing over it gingerly. “You could have at least rolled me over so I wasn’t sleeping on it after eating so much.”

“You’re a grown ass Alpha, Buck. I shouldn’t have to roll you over when you fall asleep.”

“Punk.” Bucky started to growl but it petered off into another groan as he popped his back. “Alright, well, since it’s bed time an’ all, I’m gonna hit the hay. What about you?”

“I um--” Steve tapped his pencil on the desk. “I gotta finish this thing and then I’ll be turning in, yeah.”

“Whatcha lookin’ at so late?” Bucky reached down and plucked the catalogue away from Steve. “You ordering us some new gear? New pants? I told ya to jus’ give the tailor in town a chance, she didn’t mean to ruin your first pair of pants, ya know. Just cause the seam split down your ass don’t mean you gotta order everything through a--”

Bucky stopped talking when he saw exactly what page of the catalogue Steve was shopping on, and Steve turned a fairly unhealthy shade of red when his best friend sent him a highly judgmental look.

“Uh Stevie?” Bucky cleared his throat loudly, then cleared it once more for good measure. “What uh-- whatcha doin’ lookin’ at bloomers and knickers and all that? All these ah--- ladies underthings? Why ya lookin’ at that?”

“Bucky--”

“I’m not gonna judge ya or nothin’.” Steve could always tell how uncomfortable Bucky was by how thick his almost non existent Brooklyn drawl came through, and right now he could barely understand him, a hard edge to every word coming from the Alpha. “M’jus’ sayin’ ya got a real pretty Omega ‘bout trippin’ over ya an’ you’re here fappin’ to--”

“ALRIGHT!” Steve interrupted, snatching the catalogue back and shoving it to the far corner of his desk. “First of all, you can relax and quit talking all stupid because I wasn’t--” his face turned even more red. “-- I wasn’t doing that, alright?”

“Mebbe not yet.” Bucky maintained, a direct glance down at Steve’s lap. “But you were gettin’ there, huh? Damn, Stevie I was on th’ couch, ya can’t do that in your own room?”

“Jesus.” Steve coughed and dropped his hands into his lap, because while he hadn’t been doing what Bucky thought he had been doing… it had been interesting to be flipping through that sort of catalogue looking at those sort of things so....

“No, listen.” he shook his head when Bucky started looking judgmental again, saying everything all in a rush so he could get it out before Bucky interrupted again. “Listen. Tony and I-- we’ve been spending time together and I uh-- I ruined a few pair of his undergarments and he told me I needed to replace them and I told him to just give me a catalogue and--” a sheepish motion. “And here we are.”

“You ruined some of Tony’s undergarments.” Bucky repeated. “And you have to replace them from this catalogue? This one?”

“Yeah, I had to get it from Natasha.” Steve was still blushing. “She says that Tony orders from the same catalogue as her and her girls so--”

“Wait, Natasha orders from this too?” Bucky snatched the catalogue back and started thumbing through it. “Because this is-- all’a these are--” his eyes widened over a particularly racy pair-- cut high over the models hips and real thin in the back, the fabric narrowing to little more than a string before disappearing between the model’s cheeks and Bucky sucked in a quick breath.

“Why do-- why do some of these have stars drawn in?”

“Because I pretty much know what Tony wears, but Natasha wanted to be helpful and made a few suggestions based on what she likes to wear.” Steve said miserably. “I’ve been sitting here for half an hour trying to make valid decisions while having to picture--”

“Oh god.” Bucky made a desperate sort of noise, holding the catalogue so tight it was starting to tear, staring down at the different things Natasha had put a star by. “Oh my-- uh Stevie--”

“I’m gonna turn in for the night.” Steve jumped to his feet and pushed past a still shell-shocked Bucky. “See ya in the morning.”

“Uh---” Bucky nodded dumbly. “Yep.”

********************

In the morning, the catalogue was still sitting on the desk and neither Bucky nor Steve even looked at it as they ate their breakfast.

It was a small house, after all, and while Steve had remembered to put a pillow over his face as he vividly pictured Tony in all the things he had put on the order slip, Bucky wasn’t near as discreet as he had vividly pictured Natasha in the items she had starred---

---anyway. It was an awkward meal, and a quiet ride into town, and even though Sam and Clint kept shooting weird looks at the two Alphas, neither the Sheriff nor the Deputy had anything to say about it.

Natasha mailed Steve’s order when she mailed out the orders for herself and her Omega’s, and sent a note around to the Sheriff’s department that his package should arrive in about a months time.

Steve read the note and put it away, going back to his paperwork and not looking at Bucky, who was definitely not looking at him.

A month seemed an awful long time to wait for something so pretty, but Steve had a pretty good idea of how he was going to stay busy until then.

***********************

***********************

“Tony.” Steve kicked at the door of Tony’s apartment, one hand full of flowers, the other holding a container of soup from Valkyrie. “Honey, can you get to the door? I know you aren’t feeling good but my hands are full so--”

“Steeb?” The door cracked open and one half of a very tired face peeked out. “Wha’ are you doin’ here?”

“May Parker stopped by the station and told me you caught a real bad cold from one of the kids.” Steve held up the flowers and soup cheerfully. “So I brought you something to make you feel better!”

“Leave’m on th’door step.” Tony mumbled. “I’ll get’m later.”

“I’m not going to leave it on the door step, Tony.” The Alpha said patiently. “Let me in for just a second and I’ll drop this off and go, alright?”

“But m’ugly when m’sick.” Tony whispered pitifully, and Steve’s heart squeezed in his chest. “Don’t want you t’see me.”

“Baby, I’m pretty sure you’re never ugly, but if you still feel self conscious, you know I’m not here for our usual sort of thing.” He held up the flowers again, smiling hopefully. “I just wanted to check on you. Why don’t you go get in bed and I’ll take care of this and then I can go?”

“M’kay.” The Omega disappeared from the door and Steve listened to the shuffling footsteps as they got farther away, waiting for the soft snick of Tony’s bedroom door closing before he entered the apartment.

The living room was a disaster-- blankets piled around, empty boxes of tissues and an over flowing waste bin. A pot of half eaten, day old soup sat on the stove with a spoon in it as if Tony had huddled over the stove to eat so the steam would clear his sinuses.

“Poor, sick Omega.” Steve clicked his tongue sympathetically, then glanced guiltily at Tony’s door to make sure it was still closed.

He was always very careful to not call Tony ‘Omega’ when they were together, but it was getting harder and harder not to think of him as ‘Omega’. 

Tony hated it because he thought the word stripped him of his actual identity, reduced him to his gender and nothing else, and Steve knew that had to be because of Tony’s past, whatever he had gone through that made him so wary of Alpha’s in the first place.

But wanting to call Tony ‘Omega’ wasn’t about reducing him to his gender and nothing more. It was a pet name, an endearment, something that Steve wanted to growl into Tony’s ear as they lay together, wanted to shout when he came, wanted to whisper it when they kissed and Tony purred and stood on his toes to get closer.

Steve wanted to attach a sweet in front of the word, a beautiful, a darling, a perfect, a my-- My Omega.

Steve wanted all of those things and quite a bit more, but for right now--

He sighed and looked around the living room again.

For right now, Tony needed some warm soup and fresh blankets and some help putting his house back together, so that was exactly what Steve was going to do.

The Alpha set the soup warming on the stove, the flowers in a cup of water, and rolled up his sleeves to get to work.

*********************

“Steeb?” Close to an hour later, Tony reappeared with a blanket wrapped over his hair, around his body and dragging on the floor behind him. “You’re still here? Why?”

“Hey honey.” Steve dried his hands on the towel and smiled at him. “I was cleaning up a little bit. How are you feeling?”

“Libe deaf.” the Omega snuffled and tottered towards the couch. “Gremlin got me sick.”

“Which gremlin would that be?” Steve hurried to put a pillow under Tony’s feet, frowning when he felt how cold they were. “One of the little ones? Seasons changing, everyone catches colds. Tony, let me get you some socks, honey, your toes are freezing.”

“Was probably Flash.” Another loud sniff, and Tony slid his feet beneath Steve’s thighs flexing his toes so they would warm up. “I let him back t’ school and thib is how he repays me?” Sniff. “Brat.”

“I made some soup.” Steve tucked another blanket around Tony’s ankles and feet so they stayed warm when he moved to check Tony’s temperature. “Do you want to try and eat--” He frowned when Tony pulled away from him. “What’s wrong?”

“M’ugly when m’sick.” Tony repeated, ducking his head and closing his eyes. “Don’ look at me.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Steve leaned in until their noses bumped and Tony’s breath hitched a little as if he wanted to cry. “You’re not ever ugly, I don’t know who told you that, but if I ever meet them I’ll break their jaw, how does that sound?”

Finally, a teeny smile from the sick Omega. “Kay.”

“There you are, smiling for me.” Steve murmured and placed a gentle kiss on Tony’s cheek. “Do you want some soup? Valkyrie made it fresh this morning when she found out you were sick. Chicken noodle with whatever her secret ingredient is, which I’m pretty sure is just whiskey, but she swears by it so can I get you a bowl?”

Sniff. “Kay.”

“Can I check your temperature, too? You look a little flushed. Let me at least feel your forehead.”

Sniff. “Kay.”

“Okay. Food first.” Steve went back to the stove to dish up the soup, grabbing a clean spoon from the stack he had washed and putting a towel beneath the bowl so it wouldn’t burn Tony’s lap.

“Thank you.” Tony slurped at the soup noisily while Steve checked his temperature with the back of his hand, hmmming in disapproval over the heat. “You didn’t have to cleab up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve headed towards the bathroom to fill the tub so Tony could wash up after he ate. “I needed a clean pot for the soup anyway, and you’re usually tidy so I’m sure it was bothering you, right?”

“Steeb.” Tony took another spoonful of soup. “Why are you doing it?”

“I’m just trying to take care of you, Tony.” Steve came back to the couch with a glass of water. “And before you get all huffy this isn’t--” he sighed. “--this isn’t an Alpha thing, or a courting thing. Clint would be doing the same thing, Sam would be doing the same thing-- if I had been too busy to come check on you, Mrs. Parker would be up here probably ordering you into the tub and force feeding you soup. Isn’t me suggesting things much nice than being treated like a teenager who didn’t wash behind his ears?”

“M’glab it's you.” whispered, Tony glancing furtively up from his soup. “Thank you.”

Warmth flowed through the Alpha at Tony being grateful for his care, even if it was just as friends-- or friends with benefits-- or whatever the hell they were.

Either way it made Steve smile, made his eyes flicker red in a touch of possessiveness, but he blinked it away in favor of pressing a kiss to Tony’s warm forehead. “Finish your soup, sweetheart. Then a long bath, yeah?”

*****************

“This is very good.” Tony wrapped his hands around a cup of tea and breathed in shakily. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Steve budged closer when Tony started shivering again. “I stripped your bed and remade it with a few blankets, I couldn’t find an extra set of sheets so you’ll have to sleep on a comforter but at least it's germ free, yeah?”

“Sure.” Another sip of tea. “Thank you. Really.”

“It’s fine, Tony.” Steve gave up on just sitting close and wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and held him tight to keep the shivers down. “Honestly. You don’t have to keep thanking me, this is basic stuff, I didn’t even make the suit and tea is elementary, right? It’s not a big deal. Do you want me to carry you to bed?”

“Mmmm.” Tony abandoned his tea so he could curl into Steve’s warmth, tucking his head into the crook of the Alpha’s neck and breathing in as deep as he could with a plugged nose. “You smell good.”

“You’re such a sickie right now, you can’t smell anything.” Steve ran his nose over Tony’s still damp hair. “So how would you know if I smell good or not?”

“Sheriff Robbers, now isn’t the time to sass me.” Tony complained, with only a fraction of his usual snark. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Mr. Carbonell, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Steve stood up from the couch with Tony in his arms, holding the Omega’s slight weight easily, smiling over the little impressed noise Tony made. Omega’s were always weak for being carried by an Alpha and Tony was no exception.

Steve loved it.

He also loved when he set Tony down in the clean bed and the Omega instantly started shoving at the quilts to make a rough nest, pushing at them tiredly until he was surrounded by a warm wall of blankets. And then, as Tony was shifting around and trying to curl up in the middle of it all, he stopped to hold out a hand for Steve. “Lay wib me?”

“Oh.” Steve hesitated, torn between being fairly certain Tony was too sick to know what he was asking, and forcing himself not to jump right onto the bed and gather his the Omega close. “Tony, are you sure? I can just come by later and check on you. Or I can send Clint over if you want, or--”

“I’d want Clint to stay.” Tony sighed and went a little limp in the bed, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, making a weak grabby hand motion at Steve “And I’d ask Sam to stay. I might even ask Mrs. Parker to stay ib I didn’t think it would give Peter the wrong idea.” Sniff. “Please?”

“Alright, then.” As if I was going to say no. Steve thought wryly as he stripped his jacket and vest off, shucking his boots and belt before climbing into the bed behind Tony. “Like this?”

“Libe dis.” Tony turned so they were facing each other, pushing closer and closer until Steve just rolled onto his back and pulled Tony up onto his chest, the Omega straddling his waist and hiding his face in Steve’s neck. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to say thank you, sweetheart.” Steve said quietly, letting the words rumble through his chest and tightening his hold when Tony tried to get closer to the comforting sound. “You don’t ever have to say thank you.”

****************

Morning came and Steve woke up in Tony’s bed, the Omega still wrapped around him and snoring quietly.

A quick check on Tony’s forehead told the Alpha that the fever had broken sometime during the night, and when Tony opened his eyes they were clear and bright, a little uncertain over their current position, but not hazy with sickness anymore.

“Well good morning, beautiful.” Steve whispered, and Tony flushed a soft pink before hiding his face in Steve’s chest again. “Did you sleep alright?”

Quietly, “Yeah.”

“Good.” Steve lay back and closed his eyes again. “Want to keep sleeping? It’s still pretty early and I don’t have to be in the office until closer to lunchtime when Sam and Clint take off for the day. Get some more rest.”

Even quieter. “Will you-- will you stay with me?”

“If you’re still sick I will.” Steve kept his eyes closed, running gentle hands up and down Tony’s back, smiling over how much easier the Omega was breathing after a long bath, some decent food and a good night’s sleep. “Are you still sick, Tony?”  

A pathetic sniffle, not even close to convincing. “I’m still sick.”  

“Well then I guess I better stay.” Steve turned them carefully until Tony was lying back in the pillows and looking up at him, all messy hair and sleep soft eyes, a shy smile on his lips. “Someone one needs to stay until you’re feeling better, right?”

Tony ran his hands up Steve’s bare chest to his shoulders and then around his neck, pulling him down until their mouths met first in a hesitant kiss, then in a longer one, coming back together again and again until Tony was melting beneath Steve’s lips and the Alpha was panting quietly, a possessive hand at Tony’s waist, another at the base of his neck.

“I’m not sick anymore.” Tony admitted when Steve pulled away to kick out of his pants, sliding back beneath the covers to tangle their legs together. “Or at least not enough that I have to be taken care of. But I still want you to stay, will you stay?”  

“Of course I’ll stay.” Steve muttered, the words lost behind a heavy growl when Tony leaned up to kiss him again. “Tony, sweetheart--” a quiet mewl from the Omega. “-- of course I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.” Tony urged Steve tighter against him, wove his fingers through the short blonde hair. “You didn’t have to do any of this, not bring me soup or clean up or stay with me, but thank you. I mean it.”

“And I meant it when I said you don’t ever have to say thank you.” Steve nudged Tony’s thighs apart and settled between them, flexing his hips down when Tony lifted up into him. “Whatever we are calling this--” he pushed Tony’s night shirt up above his waist and they both groaned when skin met skin. “Whatever we are calling this, you don’t ever have to thank me for taking care of you. I want to take care of you, honey, in whatever way you’ll let me.”

There was something fragile in Tony’s gaze then, fragile and scared and hidden so deep in the dark brown eyes that Steve thought his heart would break just seeing it.

But Tony shook his head quickly, anxiously, when Steve opened his mouth to say something, so the Alpha kissed him again instead, and set out to make sure that the only thing in the Omega’s eyes was pure pleasure, and sweet satisfaction.

*********************

*********************

Steve was kind of ashamed for himself for letting their kisses get out of hand when Tony still needed to recuperate from being sick, but looking back, he couldn’t feel guilty over it at all.

It had been good between them, a layer of tenderness to the moments brought around by the intimacy of sharing a bed all night, the way Tony had trusted Steve to take care of not just him, but also his home.

Neither of them were willing to dwell on what it meant-- an Alpha stepping in to take over like that, and an Omega willingly letting him-- but both knew it meant something and every touch of their mouths and brush of their fingers had echoed it.

When they had come-- first Tony, his breath catching and fingers digging into Steve’s biceps, mouth open in a quiet little cry, then Steve, burying a groan into Tony’s neck when the Omega’s slim fingers closed around his knot and worked him dry-- Tony had collapsed back into the pillows and put an arm over his eyes to hide what he was feeling and Steve had whispered, “It's alright, baby.” and held him until the trembling had stopped.

Scooting up Tony’s body to lay a kiss on his lips, to try and communicate with his touch that he was just as aware of what was happening between them, that he was a little scared too--

--Steve had found an Omega that had fallen asleep almost immediately, apparently being sick for a few days and then an orgasm taking every last bit of energy he had to spare.

“Tony?” A whisper and light nudge hadn’t woken Tony at all, so Steve kissed him anyway, then went to clean himself up before cleaning the mess from Tony’s stomach as well and tucking him back into the covers.

Tony slept almost until lunch time and when he woke up, Steve was sitting on the bed next to him, reading a book.

“Sheriff Rogers.” Tony said groggily, peeking up at him sleepily. “You’re still here?”

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” Steve put a bookmark on his page and set the book aside. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” Pink cheeked, and Steve could have died over how shy Tony looked. “Apparently whiskey laced soup and some sleep and a walk is all it takes to get over a cold. Who knew?”

“And a walk.” Steve chuckled and slid down in the bed until they were nose to nose, closing the distance between them to kiss the Omega sweetly. “Adorable. Do you want to take another bath? We could both use one at this point.”

“Oh. Oh um--” Tony’s hand went to the collar his night shirt, glancing down at his chest uncomfortably. “Steve, I don’t think--”

“I won’t say anything, Tony.” Steve assured him. “I won’t ask any questions about your--” a vague motion to his own chest. “And I’m not trying to wind you up again, or trying to get you naked. I just thought we could take a bath together. It would give me a chance to hold you a little longer and I could wash your hair if you wanted--”

“No it’s not that.” Tony looked away, cleared his throat. “I’m just a hot water hog. Don’t share very well. That’s all.”

It hurt Steve’s heart that Tony was so obviously lying, but he let it go. “Well I’ll start one just for you, then.” Steve told him, and leaned in for one more kiss, rumbling happily when Tony pressed closer to lengthen it, flattening his palms against the Alpha’s chest and purring low in his throat when Steve’s arm went around his waist.

“I’m tempted to ask you to stay.” Tony admitted when they broke apart. “But then you’d be late for work. You said you had to be in by noon.”

“I’d be late if you wanted me to stay.” Steve whispered, brushing Tony’s hair back from his eyes, his knuckles across a cheekbone. “Ask me to stay, Tony.”

“But if you don’t go and play Sheriff--” Tony's eyes twinkled mischievously. “--then the criminals get away with things and I’d be lying when I tell the children that crime doesn’t pay. Are you trying to make me a liar, Sheriff Rogers?”

“Mr. Carbonell.” Steve grinned down at him, relieved that Tony was back to his usual snarky self after being sick. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything of the sort.”

“See that you don’t.” Tony laughed but it turned into a yawn and he burrowed back into his blankets, watching with unabashed interest as Steve got dressed, humming to himself watching the fitted pants come up over thick thighs, the shirt straining to be buttoned over Steve’s chest.

God, the Sheriff is a gorgeous Alpha.

“Well, thanks Tony.” Steve winked and bent down to kiss him. “You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”

Mortified that he had actually said it all out loud, Tony eeped and ducked beneath the covers, listening to Steve laugh on his way out the door.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart!” Steve called before he left.

“Bye…. honey.” Tony whispered to himself, then eeped a little quieter and hid his blush in his hands.

He’d been right the first time.

The Sheriff was trouble.

I could handle a little trouble.

**************************

#ncts fics #stony #western au #alpha!steve #omega!tony #fluff #oh god the fluff #steeb

[soulspideys]

head and heart - peter parker

a prequel to “civil war 2.0″ that can be read as a standalone

read Civil War 2.0

request: It'd be set around the time of the accords and the debate between the avengers of whether or not to sign it and center around y/n trying to decide who's side to take. Whether to stay loyal to Steve which would mean fighting against Peter for real and not just for everyone else's amusement. Or siding with tony, basically breaking steve's heart, and continuously wondering if they made the right decision. And then of course the actual fight at the airport going down. It'd be a cool thing to read :) - @casualtyclfford 

notes: this is so. fucking. long. also it’s really shitty but um like it’s actually the longest thing i’ve ever written holy moly. i basically inserted reader into a lot of scenes of civil war, so sorry if it just feels like a rehash of the film. but yeah basically civil war 2.0 takes place after this. it’s not really much of a peter fic tbh whoops she just has feelings for him from school.

word count: 5.8k

Humming to yourself, you walked into the kitchen. You hair was pulled back, sweat still beading your brow as a result of the vigorous workout you’d just finished. 

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if--”

Steve stopped abruptly when you popped open the fridge, and it was then that you realized you’d walked into something important.

The Avengers were seated on the various armchairs and couches. Tony was in between the island and the rest of the team, watching you. He had obviously just walked over from the kitchenette. Steve was keeping his eyes down, seemingly unable to look at you.

“Uh -- sorry,” you mumbled awkwardly, grabbing a water bottle and shutting the refrigerator. You started to leave, but froze, turning on your heel and facing the tense group. “What’s going on?”

They all exchanged glances. Natasha and Steve held a long look.

“She deserves to know,” Wanda spoke up.

Steve dipped his head. Natasha’s eyes fell too. No one seemed to be able to look at you. 

You took a small step forward, but then you locked eyes with Natasha. She shook her head imperceptibly, so you backed up. Steve rubbed his eyes, sighing heavily. You dipped your head in a nod, turning and heading up the stairs. There you stopped, sitting down.

“What were you saying, Steve?” prompted Tony.

“I -- What if -- what if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us?”

You sat at the top of those stairs for the rest of the conversation, picking up bits and pieces of the story. You recalled Lagos; your first mission with the Avengers. You’d been beyond excited to prove your worth and show Cap that you could do it. And then Wanda lost control, and all because you distracted her....

They’ve all told you it isn’t true. But when you saw that the trigger in Rumlow’s hand, you couldn’t help it. You screamed, louder than ever before; you couldn’t bear the thought of losing your mentor and friend. Then Wanda was there, trapping him with her abilities. She lifted him into the air, and you let out a cry of both relief and shock. That was when she lost control.

As much as you respected Steve, Tony was right. You needed to be regulated. This couldn’t happen again.

“I have to go.”

You stood up quick, but heard Steve’s footsteps retreat the opposite direction. There was silence, so after a few moments, you made your way softly down the stairs, stopped by the kitchenette. Wanda looked up, seeing you. “y/n.”

Natasha and Tony both straightened, turning to look at you. Vision probably knew you were on the stairs the whole time, so he didn’t react visibly. Sam and Rhodey glanced at you somberly, almost pityingly. 

You noticed something on the table in front of Steve’s now vacant chair. Gingerly, as though walking on eggshells, you made your way over to it, stepping lightly in between Tony and Sam. 

A big, official-looking book titled the Sokovia Accords sat on the table. You glanced around at the older Avengers. “May I?”

Natasha dipped her head as an answer. “Knock yourself out,” mumbled Sam. 

You lifted up the book, turning to the first page. You scanned through it silently for a few minutes as the puzzle pieces fell into place. You looked up, glancing around at the grim crowd. “Do I get to sign?”

“You’re one of us now,” Natasha nodded.

“Wait, y/n, think this through,” intervened Sam, stepping forward. “This is -- this isn’t just a yes or no, black or white decision. You really want to relinquish freedom like this?”

“What happened in Lagos was unacceptable,” you said firmly. “I can’t think of a better word because I’m only fifteen, but it was worse than unacceptable. I can’t imagine living with the guilt of all those other cities.”

“Civilian casualties will always happen,” Sam persisted. “There’s no way to win a war without them.”

“Maybe it’s mentalities like that that cause the wars,” you said, closing the Accords and setting them back down on the table.

Sam looked pained. He placed a hand on your arm. “Come on, y/n, this is -- this is Steve. Cap. If -- when he finds out -- this will break his heart. He’d want you on his side.”

“This isn’t about sides, Sam,” you breathed, tearing your arm away. “I’m signing the Accords.”

You glanced around at the group. Wanda wouldn’t meet your eyes. Sam was looking away stubbornly. Natasha’s expression was unreadable. Tony looked like he was trying not to say something that would be in poor taste in that particular moment. Vision, much like Natasha, merely looked at you, not giving anything away. Rhodey had a ghost of a smile on his face.

Feeling a sharp twist in your gut, you pushed past Sam, making your way up the stairs. It was then that you thought of Peter.

⋆~°~⋆

Peter Parker was a boy you had gone to school with last year, before Steve pulled you out. He was the top of the class, a huge nerd, and you’d had the biggest crush on him. You remember how excitedly he had spoke of Iron Man. You wondered what he was doing now. It would be nice to have someone from your old life here to help you through this.

Steve was practically giving you the silent treatment; he had found out at the end of Peggy’s funeral that you had signed through Natasha. You wanted to go to the signings -- if nothing more than to escape your mentor’s disapproval -- but Natasha had insisted you stay in New York.

That just gave you more time to train -- and consequentially, more time to wonder if you had made the right decision. It wasn’t that Steve was glaringly wrong; you could see why he didn’t want to sign the Accords, his argument even made sense. The thought of feeling that heavy guilt in your chest whenever you went on a mission, however, terrified you. Maybe it was selfish; but Tony was right. The Avengers needed to be held accountable for their actions.

You and Wanda normally would have enjoyed the thought of being locked up together, but you knew that she felt as if you were targeting her. You attempted to reach out to her, but each time you did, Vision told you it was better to leave her alone. 

You felt like you were going crazy.

Then one evening that changed. You had followed the chaos in Vienna, along with Steve, Sam, Bucky, and T’Challa’s arrest in Bucharest. Now Steve, Sam, and Bucky were on the run. Natasha and Tony continued to insist you stay at headquarters, and it was at that time that you realized that you and Wanda were both prisoners in your own home.

That evening, you were laying in bed, working on some online homework. Just as you were debating going for another training lesson -- it was the only thing that was effective in clearing your head -- there was a noise from outside. You clambered off your bed awkwardly, pulling back your curtains. Fire bloomed outside as if something had exploded. 

You turned, about to run to see what was happening, when you barely stifled a scream.

None other than Clint Barton stood in your room, decked out in full gear, bow in hand. Your mouth fruitlessly fought for words, but you couldn’t speak. Your brain must have short circuited.

“Yeah, not sure I expected a different reaction,” sighed Clint. “Listen, I know you signed the Accords. You’re free to do that. But Cap needs our help right now, and he’d really appreciate it if you were there for him.”

“Wh-what?” you gasped. “Does Vision--?”

“No, and we kind of need to hurry, because I’d rather it stay that way,” he insisted. “Listen, it’s a long story, but Bucky’s innocent. There are other super soldiers like him. The guy who framed him wants to go get those super soldiers and use them against us. We need to stop him.”

The image of the Avengers fighting five Winter Soldiers filled your mind. You imagined the chaos, the devastation; after all, Winter Soldiers didn’t care about civilian casualties.

“Oh, god,” you breathed. Then you shook yourself, nodding firmly. “Okay. I’m in.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “R-really? I kinda prepared a whole speech about how much you mean to Cap and how much he needs you at a time like this, but if you’re sure--”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you said, crossing the room to your closet. You quickly grabbed your suit, turning and fixing Clint with a hard stare. “We can change on the way. Let’s go.”

Clint opened his mouth, but then closed it, nodding and leaving your room. You followed him, your suit across your arm. He turned into the living room. Wanda was facing the window, watching the flames.

He halted with you just behind him. Wanda moved quickly; a knife stuck in the cutting board on the counter flew swiftly through the air, stopping a hair’s breadth from his head.

She recognized the two of you, and her eyes widened. Clint half-smiled, pushing the knife away. It clattered to the ground. “Guess I shoulda knocked.”

“Oh, my god,” sighed Wanda, walking towards you. “What are you doing here?”

“Disappointing my kids,” groaned Clint, moving quickly. He fired two arrows while you and Wanda watched in confusion. “We’re supposed to be water-skiing.” He turned to her, taking her hand and walking towards the exit, glancing to check that you were following as he told her, “Cap needs our help, come on.”

The three of you hurried forward, Wanda still confused.

“Clint!”

You froze; Vision was back. The three of you turned; you defiant, Wanda anxious, and Clint as witty as usual.

“You should not be here,” Vision went on.

“Really?” Clint retorted. “I retire for what, five minutes, and it all goes to shit.”

Vision, as always, was unamused as he moved slowly forward. “Please consider the consequences of your actions.”

“Okay, they’re considered.”

Vision stepped between the two arrows Clint had fired earlier, and an electric current jolted into life between them, trapping the android.

Clint’s cheeky facade dropped as he mumbled, “Okay, we gotta go.” He turned, jogging towards the door; you matched him stride for stride. However, a few steps from the exit, you realized Wanda wasn’t with the two of you. When you paused, so did Clint.

“It’s this way,” he said, pointing towards the door and looking at Wanda.

Wanda looked down. “I’ve caused enough problems.”

“Stay here,” Clint told you before jogging back over to the other girl. He dropped his voice, and you didn’t bother straining to here what he said to her. She looked at him, a new expression crossing her face. 

Then you saw Vision straining against the electric bonds. “Clint!” you cried warningly.

“Shit,” hissed Clint, his gaze slipping past Wanda to fall on Vision.

Vision shot a beam of light from his mind stone, striking one of the arrows. The electricity faltered and then vanished. Clint quickly pulled back an arrow as Vision moved forward; he fired it, but it passed through Vision like nothing. Vision grabbed his bow, striking Clint so that the archer tumbled through the air, landing in a crouched position.

You heard him mutter to himself, “I knew I should have stretched.”

Then he was up, and you winced at his attempts to best Vision in hand-to-hand combat. Vision locked him into a headlock, and you sighed. Throwing your suit onto the door handles, you jogged to help him.

“No!” grunted Clint when he saw you. “Don’t -- come closer!”

You froze, glancing anxiously at Wanda.

“Clint,” said Vision calmly. “You can’t overpower me.”

“I know I can’t,” grunted Clint, his eyes slipping from you to Wanda. “But she can.”

Your breath hitched as you realized why Clint hadn’t wanted you to help; he needed Wanda to be the one to do it. She had to make this choice herself.

Vision’s eyes widened as Wanda moved forward, her hands shaping a ball of energy. “Vision, let him go,” she said strongly. “I’m leaving.”

“I can’t let you,” Vision said gently.

Wanda strained, pulling her hands apart. Clint drifted through Vision’s arm, falling to his stomach in front of Wanda. Vision stared at Wanda, as if in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

Vision began to condense, the marble cracking under his feet, gravity pulling him down by the sheer mass of his body.

“If you do this,” he strained, “they will never stop being afraid of you.” 

He fell to his knees. More marble shattered.

Wanda’s hands were becoming closer together as Vision pushed into the floor. She stared down at him, growling, “I can’t control their fear, only my own.”

She strode forward, pushing her hands towards Vision. He broke through the floor, and the floor after that; he rocketed endlessly towards the earth. You stepped forward, looking down at his seemingly tiny form before looking at Wanda. She glanced at you, her expression unreadable. 

Clint got to his feet. “Wow,” he muttered, staring down the hole. Then he glanced at Wanda. “Come on, we got one more stop.”

He started towards the door, but Wanda blurted, “What about the girl?”

“What about her?” asked Clint, looking between the two of you.

“She signed the Accords,” Wanda said. “She doesn’t trust me.”

You looked away bitterly.

Clint stared at you before looking back at Wanda. “Trust me, she’s with us. Now come on, we really gotta go.”

As the three of you made your way towards the door, you looked up at Clint. “I hope you still have that speech in mind. I’m always down for an ego boost. I mean -- Captain America needs me? Nice!”

⋆~°~⋆

By the end of the trip, you were beyond anxious. The full magnitude of what you were going to do was settling in; the idea that you were going to fight a Winter Solider -- and not just one -- in order to protect a Winter Soldier. You were at least relieved to have Wanda on your side.

At least she seemed to trust you again. You had to trust each other if you were going to make it out of this.

You also had picked up one Scott Lang (alias, Ant-Man) on the way. He had seem startled to see you, and even more so when Clint explained you were Captain America’s own protege.

“I know who she is, she was in Lagos!” he had protested. “But I didn’t think she was so... young.”

It was interesting. At first glance, you expected Lang to be a slob; then you learned his full story, and quickly began to regret your first assumption. 

Now the four of you were parked outside the airport in a white stalker van, prepared to fly to Siberia. All you needed was the rest of the team to join you. Wanda had called shotgun, and you hadn’t felt like arguing, so you and Scott were in the back. Actually, you were in the far back. Scott claimed the middle row to stretch out on and nap.

You heard a car pass by and park next to the van. There were no windows in the back, so you could only watch Clint and Wanda for news. Clint opened his door, starting to get out.

“Clint -- hey, Clint!” you called. “Should I get out?”

“No, stay there,” he told you before shutting the door. Wanda smiled at you before opening her own door and getting out. You sighed, leaning back against the seats and staring at your neatly folded suit next to you.

You could faintly here Clint talking to someone outside. After a few more moments, the door slid open and Scott sat up, startled awake.

“...he should be good,” Clint was saying.

“What time zone is this?” grunted Scott, getting out of the van. You waited for your cue to get out, not wanting to get out before then.

“Captain America!” came Scott’s excited voice from outside.

“Mr. Lang.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It had settled on you till just then that you would actually be talking to Steve today. This would your first interaction with him since you signed the Accords. Your heart twinged as you thought of his quiet disappointment.

“It’s an honor!” Scott’s voice brought you back. “I’m shaking your hand too long. Wow! This is awesome! Captain America! I know you too, you’re great. Listen, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so... thanks for thinking of me.” A pause. “Hey, man!”

“What’s up, tic-tac.” That was Sam. 

“Uh, good to see you,” Scott went on awkwardly. “Look, what happened last time--”

“It was a great audition, but it’ll never happen again,” Sam said with a laugh.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Steve interjected.

“Something about some... psycho-assassins?” Scott guessed.

“We’re outside the law on this one,” Steve elaborated. “So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.”

Your own stomach churned at that. Fifteen and a war criminal -- you really knew how to pick ‘em.

“Yeah, well, what else is new,” replied Scott, a little wistfully.

“We should get moving,” another voice called, one you didn’t recognize as well. You assumed it was Bucky -- the Winter Soldier.

“We got a chopper lined up,” Clint told Steve.

Just then, a voice began speaking over the intercom in German. You sat up, your eyebrows furrowing. Wanda turned, making eye contact with you. She looked as confused as you did.

“They’re evacuating the airport,” Bucky said.

“Stark,” Sam said grimly.

“Stark?” Scott repeated.

“Suit up,” Steve ordered. 

You saw people begin to move, but Clint cleared his throat. “Hey, Cap, I know it wasn’t part of the agenda, but I picked up someone else. I think you’ll want them on your side.”

He turned, beckoning you out. You carefully stepped out of the van, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, but all you saw was Steve.

“y/n,” he said as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “You’re here.”

“I am,” you said weakly.

“Why?”

“Because I figured taking down some psycho-assassins was more important than letting down my father figure.”

Scott’s eyes widened, looking between you two. Bucky looked just as perplexed, but wasn’t as overt about it. Sam’s eyes were trained on Steve.

“Well, I’ll always welcome the extra help,” Steve said. “Especially from you.”

Then he hugged you and you caught a glimpse of Clint’s proud smile. You held him close, realizing how much you’d missed having his support. 

Someone started to clap. Steve pulled away. Scott instantly stopped, looking mortified. Shaking his head in amusement, Steve addressed the team. “Now... suit up.”

⋆~°~⋆

You watched as Cap jogged out towards the helicopter, scanning the area. Just as it seemed he might make it, Tony and Rhodey landed in front of him. T’Challa walked out too. You gnawed your lip, drumming your fingers against your thigh as you watched them talk. They were too far away to hear what they were saying without straining.

Then Natasha emerged, speaking seriously to Steve. He stared at her a moment before looking away. Tony muttered something, clearing his throat and bringing his hands up to cup his mouth.

“Underoos!”

Your jaw dropped as a red and blue figure flipped through the air, shooting webs and capturing Cap’s shield while simultaneously binding Cap’s hands together. Then he landed, looking up.

“Who is that?” you hissed into your earpiece.

“Tony must have brought him in,” Sam spoke up. “Wanted all the manpower he could get.”

Your heart pounded as you watched the new recruit’s awkward interactions with the other Avengers. You rubbed your palms against your legs anxiously.

Tony and Steve kept talking. Tony’s voice was rising. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart!”

“You did that when you signed.”

“You’re gonna turn Barnes over, you’re gonna come with us -- now, because it’s us or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite!”

“We found it,” Sam piped up from where he was positioned in the terminal, overlooking the area. “Their quinjet’s in Hangar 5, north runway.”

Steve lifted his bound hands. Clint fired an arrow, freeing him from the webbing. Tony spun around, his mask closing over his face. 

“All right, Lang,” said Steve.

Your heart clenched as Scott grew, kicking the new kid over and grabbing the shield. He stood next to Steve, saying, “I believe this is yours, Captain America.”

Tony and Rhodey began to take off. T’Challa ran towards the terminal. Cap threw his shield, hitting Rhodey in the chest before running after T’Challa. The new recruit pressed a hand to his earpiece briefly before swinging towards the terminal.

“Cap, where am I needed?” you asked desperately.

“He’s a little preoccupied with his royal highness,” Clint interjected. “Rhodey’s there too. Make your way towards Cap.”

There was a loud clang overhead. You gasped, looking up. The new kid was moving swiftly across the glass of the terminal, tracking Sam and Bucky. You rolled out of the way, sprinting towards the chopper. You didn’t want to fight someone who’s abilities you didn’t know.

Just as you arrived, T’Challa was bringing down his claws against Cap’s shield. With a vicious yell, you jumped forward, locking your legs around T’Challa’s waist and twisting hard. The only reason you succeeded in knocking him away was the element of surprise. He flipped nimbly, landing like a cat as he skidded to a halt.

Cap stared at you in surprise. You shrugged. Then T’Challa jumped, kicking Cap hard in the chest. Steve flew backwards, hitting the ground, and Rhodey brought down an electrified baton towards him. Steve raised his sheild, blocking the blow, and you jumped on T’Challa’s back.

“I -- do not -- have time -- for -- children!” he roared, eventually flipping and sending you flying. You rolled to a stop, quickly jumping back into a crouched position.

T’Challa was back to fighting Cap. You were about to run towards them when someone grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around to face them. Natasha’s grim expression greeted you.

“Nat!” you gasped.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“We have to stop the Winter Soldiers! This isn’t about the Accords anymore!”

“You’re right,” agreed Natasha. “It stopped being about the Accords when Steve ran from the law and made Sam into a war criminal. I’m sorry, I can’t allow you to continue this fight.”

She made as if to attack when there was a loud noise from behind you. Her eyes widened and she grabbed you, rolling to the side. A huge truck crashed into the ground, taking Rhodey with it. While Natasha focused on getting out of the way, you rolled back onto your feet, sprinting after Cap and Scott. You needed to get out of there; there was no way you could take Nat in a fight.

You fell in stride with Scott. Cap took the lead as Clint and Wanda joined you. Steve looked to his right; Bucky and Sam were making their way towards you. “Come on!” Cap shouted, and they poured on a burst of speed.

Just as it seemed you might make it to the quinjet, a beam of energy scored the ground in an arc in front of you. The team staggered to a halt, and you stumbled between Scott and Sam, almost falling until Scott steadied you. You all looked up to see Vision floating above you.

“Captain Rogers,” he called down to Steve. “I know you believe what you are doing is right. But for the collective good, you must surrender now.”

As he spoke, Tony flew down with Natasha, landing beneath the android. Rhodey dropped off T’Challa. Then the spiderling swung into line, landing smoothly, exactly opposite of you. Your breath hitched in your throat, and Steve glanced down the line at you.

The kid’s eyes scanned the line, freezing when they found you. You tilted your head in confusion, unable to shake the feeling that you knew him from somewhere. Then he spoke; it was a tiny squeak, but you’d have heard Peter Parker if it was only a breath.

“y/n!? What--”

Your brain had short-circuited. Why is he here?

Tony’s team looked at him, waiting for instruction; Peter tore his gaze away with difficulty. You turned too, looking at Steve; it felt so good to be back with your mentor, even if you disagreed with him on the Accords.

“What do we do, Cap?” asked Sam, his eyes trained on the line opposite.

Cap set his jaw. “We fight.”

Your team started forward; you flexed your fingers, prepared to do battle. Tony and his team started walking too. You broke into a jog.

“They’re not stopping!” said Peter.

Then both teams were sprinting full-speed towards each other, blood pumping, muscles tensing. You could practically sense Peter’s desire to prove himself mixed with anxiety over being in a real fight. Does he even know what he’s fighting for?

As the teams neared each other, Rhodes and Tony joined Vision in the air. Sam spread his wings and Wanda soared upwards, her hands shooting energy that propelled her.

Then chaos descended.

Your priority was to avoid Peter. You tripped up Natasha as she ran towards Clint, sweeping out her legs from under her, and then you were gone. When Rhodey flew too low, you leaped and grabbed his legs, pulling him off course so that Sam could land a solid kick to his chest. 

The fighting separated. Wanda was running around, saving people’s necks. Peter was fighting Cap. You were sure that Natasha was tracking you, but she had taken a hard hit from Wanda, and didn’t seem like she had much fight left in her.

Cap came running towards you. “Check on Parker!”

“What!?”

“I just needed some time, make sure he can handle it!”

“Why me!?”

“Just go!”

Unable to ignore a direct order from Steve, you found yourself running in the direction he had come. You rounded some supply boxes to find Peter straining under a walkway. You rushed to his side, placing your hands on the underside and pushing. His head turned in confusion.

“y/n! What are you doing here? Wh-why -- didn’t you -- Mr Stark said--”

“This is bigger than I think you know,” you grunted. “Come on, go!”

“I’m not leaving you--”

“Go!” 

Peter rolled out from under the walkway, landing smoothly. The full weight of it fell upon you, and you cried out. Then you crouched low, and with a great yell, pushed upwards, giving yourself enough time to roll out of the way. The walkway crashed down behind you.

Peter looked at you, and there was a tension you could cut with a knife. He inhaled as if to say something, but then Steve was speaking abruptly into the earpieces.

“We gotta draw out the flyers. I’ll take Vision, you get to the jet.”

Sam cut in. “No, you get to the jet. Both of you. The rest of us aren’t getting out of here.”

Looking at your old crush, you realized he was right. Peter was prepared to fight you; despite your old friends revealing to you that he reciprocated your feelings, he knew what he had to do.

Now Clint was talking. “As much as I hate to admit it, if we’re gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.”

“This isn’t the real fight, Steve,” Sam insisted.

“Alright, Sam, what’s the play?” ceded Cap.

“We need a diversion. Something big.”

You knew that Peter was watching you carefully. If you hadn’t just saved him, he’d probably already have webbed you up.

“I have something kinda big,” piped up Scott, sounding out of breath. “But I can’t hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half... don’t come back for me.”

“What?” you gasped, ignoring Peter’s gaze.

“You sure about this, Scott?” Steve asked.

“I do it all the time. I mean -- once. In a lab. Then I passed out.”

You looked at Peter sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, Pete. I have to do this.”

“Wha--”

You kicked his legs out from under him and started running. You didn’t make it far before a huge noise overhead startled you into ducking. When you glanced up, Scott -- formerly known as Ant-Man -- stood several stories tall, Rhodey’s leg clutched in an outstretched arm.

Peter got to his feet. “Holy shit!”

“Way to go, Tic-Tac!” cheered Sam.

Steve and Bucky were, indeed, running like hell. You sprinted forward, noticing that T’Challa was in hot pursuit. 

“I really gotta stop taking on the King of Wakanda,” you muttered to yourself before tackling him to the ground. 

The both of you spun around, low to the ground. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you said. “It’s really not personal.”

T’Challa didn’t reply, just swiped your legs from under you before running. Then you were on his back, legs locked around his waist, bringing your elbows down against the base of his neck repeatedly.

It was to little avail; with a furious yell, T’Challa spun, once again sending you flying. You rolled to a stop on your stomach, propping yourself up with your hands. T’Challa jumped to the top of some storage boxes, coming face to face with Scott.

“You wanna get to them,” said Scott, “you gotta get through me.”

Then he kicked the boxes, and T’Challa had no choice but to jump out of the way. Scott reached for him, but there was the sound of spitfire overhead. Looking up, you saw Rhodey come flying in, Peter swinging from behind him. Peter landed on Scott, crawling all over the suit. Now Clint was distracting T’Challa.

Rhodey must have caught sight of Steve and Bucky, because he turned and started flying towards the quinjet. You jumped to your feet, eyes training on the figure overhead as you ran after him.

You spotted Wanda standing underneath a plane, red energy dancing across her palms as she threw trucks and crates. 

“Wanda!” you shouted, pointing towards Rhodey. She nodded to show she understood.

Then you were flying upwards, red energy surrounding you. You grabbed onto Rhodey’s legs, he instantly began to sink.

“Wha-- y/n! Get off!”

“Land!” you shouted, wrapping your elbow around his metallic calf to get a better grip.

Then a beam of light shot overhead, shearing the watchtower that was positioned over Hangar 5. It began to fall, blocking the way of Steve and Bucky, but Wanda caught it with her powers.

Rhodey slowed, and you yelped as you struggled to avoid getting burned. You managed to climb your way up so that your arms were wrapping around his neck. Ignoring you as if you were a bothersome fly, he lifted his arm, a sonic wave emitting from it.

“No!” you screamed, launching yourself forward and grabbing his arm. It was shaken off course, but Wanda still took the first brunt of the attack. She screamed, losing concentration, but Steve and Bucky had been given just enough time to make it through.

Then Rhodey was shaking you off, alarmed by your sudden movement. You plummeted towards the ground, a scream tearing out of your lips. Then a figure swooped by overhead, and Sam held under your armpits, breaking your fall just enough so that when he let go, you could roll into an upright position.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said into your earpiece.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “Come on, we’re not done yet.”

Peter was shouting to his team, but you were too busy trying to catch up to listen. Just as you were closing in, Tony and Rhodey hit Scott in the face, and he fell backwards, webs binding him at the knees.

Peter swung around, flashing a thumbs up. “Yeah! That was awesome--”

Scott, in an attempt to steady himself, hit Peter with his arm. Peter’s web snapped, and he flew through the air, landing hard on some cargo boxes. Tony instantly flew after him, and you ran that way too.

You arrived just as Tony flew away.

“Wait, Mr. Stark--” Peter called. “Wait, I’m not done, I’m not -- okay. Okay, I’m done.”

He lay back, clutching his side, and you staggered to a kneeing position next to him. He lifted his mask, blinking in confusion. “Oh, my god, I’m not crazy.”

“Peter, how the hell -- how long--”

“After you left,” he grunted. “Trust me, I probably would have told you if this wasn’t such a recent development.”

“Shit, Pete, that was a hard hit -- you okay?”

“I gotta be. No, yeah, I’m fine, I’m--” he scrunched up his face, hissing in pain.

The quinjet flew overhead, Tony and Rhodey in hot pursuit. Sam took off too, following close behind and firing at Rhodey.

You put Peter’s head in your lap, noticing the shiner blossoming on the flesh under his right eye. 

“Ned says you had a crush on me,” he mumbled.

“That’s what you’re focusing on?” you chuckled. “We both just found out a kid we went to school with is a superhero, and that’s what you bring up?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” coughed Peter. “How did you-- I mean--”

You flinched as Vision shot a beam of light, then watched in horror as it struck Rhodey, who began to plummet. You set down Peter gently, getting to your feet.

Then he hit the ground.

A gentle ringing filled your ears.

You found yourself screaming, unsure what else to do. Tears poured from your eyes, blinding you. Peter was saying your name, but it seemed far away. 

Then Clint was there, shaking you. He was shouting something over and over -- your name and a phrase. You have to go. Run. Back to HQ. Pilot the chopper. 

“Wh-what?”

Everything zapped back into sharp focus.

“They’re taking us in!” he yelled. “You’re a minor, if you escape they won’t pursue you! We’ll convince them it wasn’t you! But you need to go!”

You weren’t entirely sure how you made it home. You just knew that the choices you made had changed everything. Headquarters was eerily empty. Not even Vision was there for a few days. Everyone else on the team was locked up. Peter was back in Queens.

Then one day, as you laid in bed until four in the evening, there was a knock at your door. You sat up, confused, and glanced at your suit hanging on your bed post. Then you opened the door to see someone you thought you’d never see again.

“Hey, kid. You ready to go?”

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#kass writes #peter parker #captain america: civil war #spider-man #spiderman #tom holland #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #james rhodes #rhodey #war machine #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #vision #scott lang #ant-man #sam wilson #the falcon #t'challa #black panther #bucky barnes #the winter soldier

[winterbvrnes]

Flowers [B.Barnes]

request (x) by @tieddown-withbattleshipchains

summary: You begin to find sweet gifts and cute letters left around your apartment, but you don’t know who they’re from… until you catch him red-handed.

wc: 1668

note: idk how i feel abt this & its prob riddled with errors [ps. i’m looking for a betareader ;)] also check that↓ out

Aly’s 600 Follower Writing Challenge

tw: mentions of Hydra and other enemies, second-hand embarrassment(?), sneaking around (intrusion?), and some cute blushing Buck

They started showing up on June 5th. You don’t know why, or how (seriously, you were pretty sure you’d locked your door when you left that morning) but when you got over the creepy aspect, you began to look forward to the little gifts that would show up.

The first ‘gift’ that showed up scared you a bit. When you walked into your quarters after a tiring day of dealing with press and saw the little chocolate and note card you were positive it was one of three things.

1) Tony being an ass and playing some kind of prank,

2) Hydra (or some other enemy) had broken in and was taunting you, or

3) Nat was feeling sweet today and left you a gift.

Tony had been on a week long mission since Monday (it was only Wednesday), so he wouldn’t have bothered to set this up. The compound is pretty much the most secure building on this planet (other than Damage Control’s warehouse) so that rules out anyone getting in undetected, or bothering to only to leave a candy. There is no way Nat was feeling sweet enough today, not after the asskicking you gave her in training this morning. So, you’re stuck.

With no clue why the candy is there, you kick your door shut and venture over to read the note.

Good job with the press today, I’m sure you did amazing. You always are, and so sweet too; sweeter than this cherry chocolate. Enjoy the rest of your evening by relaxing and destressing, and don’t let those reporters get the best of ya.

The sweet little message is written in beautiful penmanship, and signed with an adorable little smiley-face drawn by a heart. Your lips quirk up as warmth spreads through you at the kind and charming words. But, while they’re sweet, you can’t help but be a little put-off by the thought of someone coming into your room while you were away and leaving this intimate note and a candy (to which you were compared, which shows attention) without saying who they are. Your brows furrow as you place the note back down on the end-table, leaving the chocolate next to it to be safe, before going about your night.

It was two weeks before you received another gift. This time it was a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, bundled up neatly and left on your nightstand next to another note card signed with the same smiley-face. Your brows furrow and you look around, already knowing that you won’t see anyone, but trying anyway. Coming up empty, as expected, you lift the flowers to your face and sniff, inhaling the delicate aroma. Once again feeling a little odd about finding such a romantic gift in your room, you place them on the kitchenette counter and wander into your bathroom to put away your mission gear and shower.

After cleaning up, you finally break and place the bouquet in a vase and fill it with water to display on your windowsill. You smile slightly when you step back to take in the sight. The colors of the petals nearly glow in the sunlight, and you can’t resist snapping a picture for instagram. You caption it and post, watching the hundreds of like immediately flood in (the Avengers are very popular on instagram).

After that, the gifts continue to pour in; from flowers to little stuffed animals to personal care packages, each one incredibly thoughtful and topped with a note card. Whether signed with only a smiley-face, or joined by a cute paragraph, you began to look forward to hearing from this person. Their kindness and charming way began to win you over, despite your initial feelings of being intruded upon.

When you told the girls, Nat had simply rolled her eyes and laughed while Wanda gushed. “You have a secret admirer! That is so cute! I wonder who it is!?” Pepper, having walked into the conversation, had snickered and shared a look with Nat. You’d brushed it off, thinking they were on a different topic, and listened as Wanda named names and considered the possibility of it being them.

That’s where you are now, sitting on the couch listening to Wanda (for the third time that week) update you on her list’s status. After you received your fifth gift (a gorgeous smelling bathbomb and set of little candle) Wanda had started writing down the traits of each team mate that could be a tell for who-dun-it. You sigh, gaze drifting from Wanda’s list over to where Steve and Bucky sit, talking. You tune Wanda out and get lost in a daydream of the handsome soldier, watching as his blue eyes crinkle when he laughs, the brown strands of his hair falling from the bun at the nape of his neck. You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, imagining loosening his hair from the tie and running your fingers through it, feeling the silky waves between your fingers before fisting your hand and tugg–

“Hey! Earth to [Y/N]!” Wanda snaps her fingers in your face, drawing you out of your head. You flush upon realizing that Bucky is looking at you amusedly and you snap upright, turning to glare at Wanda.

“What?” You hiss, embarrassed as you rub your cheeks in an attempt to make them less hot. Wanda snickers and flicks her hair off her shoulder.

“You were staring,” she says simply and you open your mouth to vehemently deny her implications when Steve cuts you off.

“Wanda,” he interrupts, sending you a knowing glance (the one that reeks of Captain America) and placing his massive hand on her shoulder, “Vision told me he was looking for you, something about a movie tonight?” Steve nudges Wanda, not very subtly, and she beams, nodding. “I’ll take you to him.” As Steve passes, he gives Bucky a firm pat on the shoulder and you grimace at being left alone with the assassin. Not because you don’t enjoy spending time with Bucky, but because you enjoy it too much.

You give Bucky an awkward smile, which he reciprocates, before hiking a thumb toward the elevator and saying, “I should probably go train.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, go ahead,” you stutter out, flushing as Bucky sends you a smile and leaves, ever so calm and collected: the complete opposite of you. As the doors close and Bucky sends you a wave with his metal arm, you realize you’d been staring again, and blush heavier, turning to bury your face in your hands when he disappears. “Oh, fuck me.”

After your awkward encounter with Bucky, you’d decided it was time for a night out with Nat. Since she and Clint had moved out of the compound together, you’d been slacking on your weekly Nat-Nights. Lucky for you, Clint had just left on a brief mission with Wanda, leaving you free to get drunk and watch terrible Rom-Coms with Natasha.

“I’m heading out, Steve!” You holler from your doorway, leaving without waiting for Steve’s reply. He’s busy watching the newest Game of Thrones episodes with Bucky and Sam, so it’s likely he didn’t really process your shout. You sling your duffel bag over your shoulder and head to the garage.

Bucky glances over his shoulder towards the elevator, watching the number get smaller as you leave, waiting for the best time to do his thing. When the display reads B1 Bucky throws himself over the back of the couch and he rushes to his room. Steve and Sam watch him speed off and share a knowing look, Sam scoffing and rolling his eyes as they return their attention to the GOT marathon.

With the proper supplies in hand, Bucky sneaks his way to your door and tests the knob. Finding it unlocked (as you’d taken to leaving it since the gifts started coming) he steps inside, closing the door behind himself carefully. He’s standing at the kitchenette counter, arranging the presents when the door creaks open. Bucky freezes, wide eyes darting up to see you standing there, mouth agape.

“U-uh, wha-ho-why-what?” You stutter out, duffel bag landing on the floor with a thud. Bucky puts his hands up defensively.

“I can explain,” he says, shuffling in place awkwardly.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re my secret admirer?” Never did you believe that James Buchanan Barnes could possibly be the one leaving you trinkets. The man you’ve had a crush on for months.

Bucky sighs. “I- Well, yeah.” He blushes a vibrant, the heat creeping up his neck. “I mean, I guess so? But, I mean, only if you like them, ‘cause if not then you’ve got the wrong guy. But- um, uh, yeah, I’ve been leaving you stuff… “ His face paints itself a deeper scarlet. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while and Steve said I should tell you, but Sam joked that I should leave you chocolate on your pillow like a hotel, and I thought it was stupid but then I got the idea to leave you presents, so Steve helped me ‘cause I’m not as good as I was back in the day, and I really like you–”

You cut him off by firmly pressing your lips against his, silencing any further rambling. His mouth is soft on yours and you smile, feeling heat on your cheeks. You pull back when you don’t feel Bucky respond. A frown settles itself on your face when you meet Bucky staring at you wide-eyed.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought…” You sigh in embarrassment and turn to leave, but Bucky’s hand grips your arm gently and pulls you back to him, allowing his hands to drift down your sides and settle on your hips.

His cocky grin is back, full blown when he says, “So, you like-like me?” You snort and flick his chest with an eyeroll at his words.

“Obviously, you doofus,” you whisper as his lips once again press against yours, feather soft.

Tag List for Bucky is Open

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#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader drabble #bucky x reader imagine #bucky barnes x reader imagine #bucky barnes x reader one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader drabble #bucky fanfiction #marvel #avengers #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #fluff #secret admirer #flowers

[valkyrie-echo]

Project Echo, Part 1: Chapter 3 (Intel)

Part 1 Summary: A long-buried Hydra disaster, a monster in the shadows, a missing child. Eight months after the events of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky turns himself in to the Avengers on one condition: They must help him find a girl snatched off the streets by Hydra seven years ago. In their quest, the Avengers accidentally unleash a horrifying creature of darkness and shadow, intent on making their quarry its prey.

[Edited 4/28/19]

Chapter 3: Intel

"Oh yeah, I can tell you're really suffering."

Sam turned away from Skye's tablet just in time to take a duffle bag full in the face. He fell off the stool he was perched on and landed painfully on the floor of the shipping crate. He jumped to his feet, ready for a fight, but held back once he identified his "attacker". 

Steve had showered and changed into civvies (more to cover up the stench from spending hours in a soggy uniform) and carried with him his own duffle bag. He had no less than eight pizzas and four plastic bags of soda, plates, and popcorn in the other arm. 

While his friend's smile was polite as he approached, Sam got the impression he was a dead man walking.

"Doing alright?" Steve was tense in what to him was a den of enemies. His eyes searched for any sign of a trap and his body was tensed for a fight.

"No," Sam replied honestly- the SHIELD agents were securing the last of the files upstairs and were, for the moment, out of sight. The electroshock chair was already gone, thankfully, "I can't find anything on our lead. I really do think we should consider going with them. I got a call from Nat earlier, she's vouching for their lead agent. I seriously doubt it's a trap."

"I don't care. We're not risking it. We can't trust these people," Steve said.

"Captain Rogers!" Tripp came down the ladder, guiding some sort of vertical lift that was supporting an entire file cabinet down. He quickly came to the corner where Sam and Steve were and offered a hand, "I'm Agent Tripplet Jones. You knew my grandfather, back in the day."

Steve set his duffle down and obligingly returned the handshake, then froze at Tripp's name. His face broke into a massive grin the likes of which Sam hadn't seen in months, "Gabe Jones? You're Gabe Jones' grandson? You two could be twins! Sam, his grandfather was a Howling Commando!" 

It was night a day- the Steve who entered the shipping crate and the one meeting the grandson of a long-dead friend. Yes, Hydra had poisoned SHIELD, but a Howling Commando’s loyalties could never be questioned.

Sam tried to hide his triumphant smile, "I guess this SHIELD might not be Hydra in disguise after all."

Steve ignored Sam and beamed at Gabe, "Your grandfather saved my butt more times than I could ever count! Is Bea your grandmother? What was his name… Donnie! Was Donnie your father, or did they have more kids?"

As Steve and Tripp swapped Stories of Gabe and his wife, Sam wandered over behind Steve. He flashed Tripp two thumbs up. There was no doubt now that Steve would at least give SHIELD a chance.

"We're almost done loading up, are you two joining us or not?" Agent May interrupted. Behind her, Skye was doing her best to look like a serious agent and not an Avengers fangirl.

Steve hesitated, glancing between Tripp, Sam, and Agent May, “Nat vouched for her?” Sam nodded and he sighed, "We need intel... I don’t suppose we have any other choice." 

"Then get in the jet and we'll head back to our Bus. I've arranged for you- and only you- to meet with our Director as soon as we arrive," Agent May said.

"Do you allow food on the bus? I brought pizza for everyone," he offered, lifting his other arm (as if they couldn't see 8 pizza boxes). "They’re ransom for Sam."

"That's all I'm worth to you? Eight pizzas?" Sam snapped with mock outrage.

"I got a Hawaiian one. Plus the pizzeria gave us popcorn too."

"In that case, god bless."

---

---

Steve spent the quick hop to the "Bus" (which turned out to be a SHIELD cargo plane) chatting with Skye and Tripp while Sam got to know Simmons and Fitz. The team was everything the Avengers were not- unity being the most obvious feature. Even the strict Agent May seemed more of a mothering figure once you got to know her a bit. 

They all joked as the jet flew deep into the ice fields and once it docked with its mother ship they moved down into the living quarters and began on the pizza, sodas, and popcorn. It made for a fun and almost family-like atmosphere. 

Simmons helped Fitz cut his pizza, Tripp unceremoniously tore the crusts off his pieces to hand to Skye, who deposited half of her green peppers on his plate in payment, all without breaking their conversations with the two Avengers or one another. Their closeness wasn’t feigned, but instinct. They were a family.

Once their lunch was finished May directed Steve and Sam to remain in the living quarters while the rest of the crew emptied out the contents of the Quin-Jet and completed final checks on the anchors holding it to the hull before takeoff.

"I'm sorry for snapping so much," Steve rubbed his eyes as exhaustion caught up with him, "you're a good friend. You've already gone above and beyond, helping me look for him. I shouldn't be such a dictator."

"I would have left off the 'tator' bit." Sam chuckled, "Nah, man, I get it. If it was Riley I'd be chasing him down just as hard. Judging by that chair I saw you-know-who has to be the longest serving POW in history. The way I look at it it's my duty as a soldier to bring him back."

Steve sighed, "This isn't the first time we've had this conversation."

"Well, maybe now that we’re giving SHIELD a chance, it can be the last."

Steve moved over to sit on a low couch. The two Avengers waited in comfortable silence for Agent May to ready the bus for flight.

Nearly 24 hours after they'd gone out to the bridge to finalize plans for the barge raid, the strain finally caught up with Steve and Sam. By the time Agent May made it to the bridge they were both asleep in their chairs. They remained that way- Steve with his head on the table and Sam stretched out across the seats- until the plane landed at home base.

May woke the duo several hours later, “Agent Wilson, Captain Rogers- we’ve arrived.” 

Sam groaned on the couch and tried to stretch. His arm and leg were asleep in his suit- unlike Steve he never got the chance to change. He propped himself up with one eye half-open, his body tingling painfully, and with angry red lines crossing his neck where the suit had dug in.

Steve, capable of sleeping just about anywhere, was more graceful in the wake-up than his companion. He sat up and brushed his sandy blond hair aside, model-perfect. 

"Agent Wilson-"

"Not an agent," Sam mumbled as he tried to remember where he was.

"Mr. Wilson- Agent Jones will escort you to our locker room. You can shower and change there, then he'll take you to the archive. Captain Rogers, you'll meet with our Director and brief them completely on your mission. If the Director agrees then you will be given a team of Agents to help go through our files. If not, you and Mr. Wilson will be given 24 hours to find what you can and then you will be escorted to a neutral location of your choice."

"You had me at 'shower'," Sam shook out the tingling in his leg and stood.

Steve took a deep breath, gathered his bag, and followed May out of the plane. 

He was resigned to meeting the Director. He didn't have to be enthusiastic about it. He tried to think back over the SHIELD agents he'd had contact with, but most were now confirmed Hydra. Alexander Pierce had made him into as much of a asset as Bucky. 

The thought made his blood boil. Any semblance of peace he’d found on that jet evaporated.

SHIELD's base turned out to be fairly small compared to the others Steve and Sam had raided. Of course, now that they were a so-called terrorist organization it wasn't like they'd be moving into another massive Triskellion-esque facility anytime soon.

The hanger was equipped to handle two planes the size of Agent May's "Bus". There were a few Quin-Jets sitting around, but for the most part the other half of the hanger doubled as a gym. A dozen agents trained in hand-to-hand and boxing, just like Steve had once upon a time.

Heading through the base Steve was struck by how familiar it all looked. Labs, meeting rooms, storage, and living quarters were all crammed together and vied for limited space- the closeness was only magnified by the sheer number of Agents trying to navigate their work spaces. It wasn't claustrophobic though. Rather... nostalgic.

"This facility belonged to the Strategic Scientific Reserve, once upon a time," May noticed the pained look in Steve's eyes, "they used to build everything from the same blueprints. The idea being-"

"-if you've been to one base you can find your way around all of them." It looked so much like the place he, Bucky, Peggy, and Howard had been stationed at during the war. If he didn't know any better he'd have thought it was the same base. But that place, if it still existed, was lost somewhere in the French Alps. He'd tried tracking it down when they first went after Bucky, but the entrance was gone.

But if this was a different facility, what gave it the right to show him so many painful memories? What gave the ghosts the right to come out?

Peggy wasn't standing there in the meeting room consoling him after Bucky’s death, she was in a nursing home in D.C. lost somewhere in the past. Howard wasn't in the lab cooking up some new weapon- but his son probably was. The Howling Commandos were all in their graves, not the equipment room gearing up. And Bucky- his best friend was out there somewhere, lost and angry, not by Steve’s side where he belonged. 

Red Skull took most of his life. Zola the rest.

"I'm not meeting your Director," Steve stopped abruptly. He wasn't going to let history repeat itself. It wasn't worth it to trust SHIELD and risk them turning on him once they realized there was a second super-soldier on the board, "The Avengers will handle this." 

Steve turned around and came face-to-face with one last ghost- the SHIELD agent he let down before the Battle of New York.

"I know," Coulson smiled, "I look good for a dead guy."

Steve could only stare, "You're alive?" He shook his head and growled, "Fury." Steve turned and slammed his fist into the wall- a bit less satisfying than the target he wanted, but he wouldn't be the one to put Coulson back in his grave.

"I'll have that dent framed," Coulson smiled, "the agents will get a kick out of it. Avenger damage adds a touch of class to the joint."

"Did Loki ever even know you existed, or was all that a ploy to get us to work together?" Manipulated at every turn. By SHIELD, by Hydra-

"I was dead," Coulson was calm in the face of Cap’s rage, "For about two days, actually. We developed a project, T.A.H.I.T.I., after you were thawed. Pseudo-science capable of bringing back the dead- only to be used in the event of an Avenger fell. I shut the project down. Fury brought it back, then he brought me back."

"Is it-"

"-it's no longer in play. It was destroyed. Utterly. No chance of replication."

"It had better be gone," Steve growled. The last thing SHIELD or Hydra needed was the ability to raise the dead.

Coulson nodded, "Don't tell the other Avengers, by the way. Agent Hill says you're still not the most cohesive unit. It’s better to be a dead mascot than alive and Avenger-less."

"Of course Maria Hill is still SHIELD," he snapped. She was Tony's employee, technically, but in truth worked with all Avengers either helping plan missions, gather intel, or seeking out persons and items of interest. 

Right now she was supposed to be scanning Hydra intel to get a lead on Loki's missing staff. Steve made a mental note to yank her off that project as soon as possible, in case she just handed it back to SHIELD.

"We aren't going to interfere with the Avengers in any way," Coulson offered. "I promise you that. My call to Maria came after Agent May said she was bringing you and Mr. Wilson in. It was idle friendly gossip, nothing more.”

The fall of SHIELD alone hadn't been enough, but it isn't really just one straw that breaks the camel's back. It's a million working together. 

Coulson could see it in Steve clearly, the darkness of someone who'd been through too much. People tended to forget the Avengers were human too. Steve had no grasp anymore of why he was fighting, he just knew that he was. A shadow like that could very easily devour a man. 

"Doesn't matter whose side Hill is on. I'm done with secrets, and I'm done with SHIELD. We'll find the intel some other way." Steve turned around to find his way back to the Bus. He was grabbing Sam and-

"Do you think you can get the intel before Hydra finds Bucky?" Steve froze, "We've got people inside Hydra. We already know what they did to James Barnes. Hydra's been on high alert since the Triskellion. We might know more than you at this point. Did you know he wiped out facilities in Russia, Sweden, South Africa, and the Rocky Mountains?"

Steve turned to face Coulson, "Do you know where he is?" his voice was ice.

"No, but if you trust us we might be able to help you figure out where he is heading. He's running from Hydra, SHIELD, and the Avengers. He may be unstable and you can sure as hell bet that he's lethal.”

“You just want to use him-”

“We want him off the streets before anyone gets hurt. That’s it. You can have him. Bucky Barnes is an American hero, no matter what they turned him into. We’re just trying to bring him home.”

Technically Coulson had never lied to them, but Steve still didn’t know if he could trust him. He barely knew the guy for three days before he "died", but the others loved him- even Tony. 

Clint roomed with him at SHIELD Academy, Natasha considered him a friend, and even Thor respected him… 

Steve hung his head. He had to roll the dice.

"Project Echo," he said at last, "Bucky took that file from the barge and nothing else that we know of. From what we know it's been off the books for 5 years, but it was important to him for some reason. He killed everyone on that ship, wiped the computers, but Sam thinks it was as much about that file as it was revenge."

Coulson nodded, "Alright, we'll help you figure out what he's doing. I'll send half a dozen agents to the records room to help you with your search and another six to digitize them and run keyword searches," he held out a hand and, after consideration, Steve shook it. "Peggy Carter made James Barnes a SHIELD agent posthumously so that he would be included in our Wall of Valor. We protect our own, Steve."

"He isn't going to SHIELD."

"The Avengers are technically a SHIELD team. If he's with you he is in SHIELD custody." This whole thing was an apology, and so Coulson was willing to bend the rules for the Avengers. 

Coulson was looking ahead- SHIELD hadn't exactly welcomed Skye openly once the other faction learned about her abilities. The Avengers would be the safest place for her should the issue ever arise again. He needed an IOU from Captain America to shield his friend.

Still weary of a double-cross, Steve watched Coulson carefully. 

At this point he'd run out of patience, but he owed it to Sam to finish this once and for all. They bickered constantly, but he still knew who his friends were. Steve just wished he could be sure Coulson counted among those ranks. 

Just because he was a fan didn't mean he wouldn't stab Steve in the back if it looked like it would benefit him. 

I don't even remember when I became the pessimist, he thought sadly as he reached out and shook Coulson’s hand.

---

---

"I've got something," Sam frowned as he flipped through a binder of Hydra memos from one of the bases Bucky wiped out. The binder was massive, and he was going through it page by page, but they were being thorough. 

Sam had placed sticky-notes inside to act as markers and he flipped through them, "Five memos just say 'Project: Echo failed, advise,' and I have four, 'Failure unacceptable, proceed as planned'. The last reply though is, 'Director Pierce to oversee termination, stand by’. It’s not much, but-"

"-it's more than any of us have found. Put it on the board," Steve nodded to a large cork board with the few pieces of evidence they had (most taken from the barge in Alaska by Sam): The empty hanging folder, a one-page medical brief on the Winter Soldier, and a directory of Hydra Asset ID numbers with Bucky's highlighted.

"I've got something too," Tripp had the binder with messages from the base in Gallivare, Sweden. He glanced up at Bucky's Hydra ID to verify, "'Project: Echo termination complete' sent from his ID."

"If the Winter Soldier completed a termination order it means we're probably talking about a human project." Steve sighed, "Whoever they were, they're long dead."

"He has the file, just by looking at it he'd know he's got a cold case on his hands. Still, he took it. Maybe he's not looking for the subject, maybe it's something else."

Skye was in the lab with Fitz, Simmons, and three other agents scanning boxes of files as the team in the records room progressed. She stuck her head in the door and knocked softly, "Captain Rogers? Can I borrow you for, like, five minutes?"

"Don't let him come back without fresh coffee," Sam waved his empty mug at Steve.

"Sure, what do you need?" Steve collected the empty carafe and followed Skye out into the hall.

She was nervous- everyone was around Steve, "I was screwing around- only because the scanner was busy- and I found something you might be interested in. It didn't slow us down, I promise, but-"

"I've been too intense, I know. It's fine. We've been at this for ten hours, everyone needs a rest. Don't worry, please." He'd gotten over a good chunk of his temper- enough to feel guilty towards everyone he'd been snapping at. Especially Sam. 

He always felt guilty for snapping at Sam lately.

Skye held out her tablet and pressed play, "Just on a hunch I ran facial recognition with that picture of Bucky you provided, focusing on the Smithsonian exhibit and Avengers Tower after the emergence of Hydra, just in case maybe he went looking for you," she tapped one of about twenty small black-and-white images and it filled the screen. 

It was the James Barnes memorial wall in his exhibit. A man stood in front of it- a man who was unmistakably Bucky Barnes. It was like a massive weight being lifted from Steve’s shoulders.

 "I can't say if he remembers or not, but he stared at that wall for a good half hour, then spent another four in the exhibit until a security guard sent him out for the night. The only other things he really focused on were the pictures of you before Project Rebirth and the interviews with Agent Carter and the Howling Commandos."

Steve was more hopeful than certain it was Bucky who pulled him out of the Potomac, or that the hesitation before the killing blow on the helicarrier was recognition. Bucky at the Smithsonian seeing who he was and who their friends were- "Thank you, Skye," he grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you so much."

She was grinning as he released her, "Yeah, well, it was nothing."

"Peace of mind isn't ‘nothing’, it's everything." 

For the first time in months, Steve felt like he could breathe again. 

---

---

The next day they hit pay dirt.

"I'VE GOT IT!" Agent May's excited outburst startled even the SHIELD agents in the room. She slapped down an order form in the middle of the table, "A requisition form for twenty bags of O- blood earmarked for Project: Echo at Hydra facility Astana in Kazakhstan. The order is set for automatic refill on a bi-monthly basis."

They knew Project: Echo involved a human subject or subjects, but what could they possibly need that much blood for? 

"Alright, new angle," Coulson broke the silence, "find anything you can on Hydra Facility Astana. Agent May, contact Agent Ivaneau." He looked to Steve, “Hydra put spies in SHIELD, so we put one in Hydra. She might be able to get us a floorplan of the base.”

"I'll update Natasha, see if she can find anything," Sam patted Steve's shoulder as he stood.

"Come with me, I'll show you where your comms will work," May exited with him.

Coulson eyed Steve, "Bucky has been ripping apart Hydra bases. There's a chance Astana is already gone, we just haven't found out about it yet. I hate to be the naysayer, but what's your plan if it's another dead end?"

Steve's heart was still pounding with excitement over the lead, Coulson's worries didn't even phase him, "Natasha is working on Stark. If we can get him on board then I'll be able to go after him with the full might of the Avengers, finally. We'll get Bucky, one way or the other."

"And if he can’t be the Bucky you remember anymore?"

"Then at least he’ll be home."

Chapter 4: Astana

#marvel #avengers #my writing

[stealthstark]

Trying Too Hard (Part 3)

Summary: Realizing that the Avengers won’t let you go so easily, you try to adjust to life in the tower. Things don’t really go as planned.

Warnings: swearing

Ship: will eventually be bucky x reader

italics = flashback 

“I really don’t want to do this.” You admit, looking up at Steve. 

After finding your way to the training rooms, (which took awhile because Jarvis didn’t help you until you took a third wrong turn), Steve announced that you’d train with Bucky. First, everyone wanted to see if Hydra had actually improved the technology inside of your arm. Sam suggested that you arm wrestle and everyone agreed. 

“Why? It won’t hurt anything.” Steve shrugs, and then he smirks. “Besides, based on what I saw at the Hydra base, I’m pretty sure you’ll win.” 

Giving him a small, 91% fake smile back, you turn to face Bucky. He was already sitting at the table you’d arm wrestle at. It hurt to look at him. He was a reminder of Hydra to you, and a reminder that you were just a second, a copy of the original version. Even Hydra never truly cared about you. Of course, you also felt bad for what you did to him at the compound. As you approached the table, he looked up at you and gave you a half smile. 

“Hi.” You greeted, sitting down across from him. “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened... It’s not your fault that I’m like this.”

“It’s alright, I bet seeing the person that you were meant to recreate isn’t the best feeling in the world.” He looks surprised by your words, probably because this is the first time you’ve ever actually talked. 

Before an awkward silence could settle over the two of you, everyone walked over to the table. You looked around at the Avengers, who you now knew as Steve, Wanda, Sam, Natasha, and Clint. You’d also heard about Bruce Banner and Thor, but no one knew where they were. 

“Alright,” Sam, who insisted on being the referee, leaned on the table and glanced between us. “contestants are you ready?”

Bucky grinned and rolled his eyes at Sam, placing his elbow on the table and holding out his hand for you to take. You did the same and grasped his hand tightly in your own. It was strange, knowing that you were holding something but barely even being able to feel anything other than pressure. You imagined it was the same way for him. 

“Ready...go!” Sam announced, slicing his hand through the air in a starting gesture. 

Immediately you felt Bucky trying to force your arm down, but you had more than enough strength to keep both of your arms vertical. For a moment you didn’t know if you’d have enough power to actually force his arm down. You heard Bucky grunt while your arm changed gears, and you saw your arm pushing his down. Vaguely, you could hear Sam commentating in the background. You heard Bucky’s arm trying to power up even more but it was no use, with a final push his hand smacked against the table. 

“Damn, girl!” Sam laughed, patting you on the back.

You felt yourself actually smile a bit at how dramatic Sam was being. A surge of confidence overcame you. Even though Bucky was the original copy, you were the new and improved. 

“It’s okay, Bucky.” You tease. “I’m sure we can get you an upgrade.” 

As soon as you said it, the smile fell from your face. You weren’t sure if Bucky would be able to tell that you were just messing with him. Why did you even get so comfortable around everyone in the first place? You stare at Bucky, who was also staring at you. 

Before you could even open your mouth to speak, he laughs, leaning back in his chair. You feel yourself internally deflate, sighing in relief. You definitely didn’t want to mess things up with anyone on the first day. 

“Yeah, let’s just walk on back to the Hydra base and ask if I can have a new arm, too.” 

You’d been living in the tower for about a week now. Steve had made you official training buddies with Bucky, so you trained every day for at least an hour. The two of you had become generally good friends, since you had quite the common interest. Sam also often hung around you. He was funny, and you liked that he could lighten the mood when you weren’t feeling the happiest. Steve was very nice, he had the aura of a big brother or a best friend. You rarely saw Clint or Natasha, so you and Wanda stuck together, being the only girls. Tony was a sarcastic asshole, but you found that he cares about people more than he let’s it show. 

“Shit!” You exclaimed when a blue shell hit your car. Bucky sped past you while Sam suffered in 12th place. The three of you had been playing Mario Kart for the past hour. You’d won almost every tournament even though you had never played before now. 

Once you could drive again, you had already been passed up to 6th place. 

“No!” You complained, hitting Bucky on the arm. 

“Ow! Jeez that’s metal, you know!” Bucky whined, trying to soothe his arm by rubbing it on the couch so he didn’t have to take his hands off the controller. 

“I know, that was the point.” You admit before trying to grab the controller out of his hands. 

“Hey! You dirty cheater!” Bucky yelled, trying to yank his controller out of your grip. 

While you two fought each other, Sam took full advantage of the commotion and advanced up to first place. The two of you were far to occupied with beating each other up to notice. Bucky was trying to pry your metal hand off the controller with his own, while your flesh hand was jabbing him in the side to get him to let go. 

You looked up at the screen to see that Sam had won the race while you two were fighting. 

“No!” You cried out in defeat, shoving Bucky away from you. “Now neither of us won!” 

“That’s what you two get!” Sam cheers, watching his character race around the track with ease. 

“Hey, guys.” A more serious voice interrupts the playful atmosphere from behind you. You turn around and see that it’s Tony. “Can all of you meet us in the lab?” 

“Um...” You swallow, not liking the tone of his voice. “Sure.” 

You hesitantly stand up and follow Bucky and Sam out of the room and down to the lab. The closer you get to the lab, the more you find yourself tensing up. Whatever’s going on, it surely has to have something to do with you. 

“The last time I was in a lab was when they cut my arm off.” You mutter under your breath, quiet enough so only the person next to you could hear. 

Bucky just stares at you, eyes wide. 

“What’s going on?” He questions as soon as you arrive at the lab. Steve and Wanda were already there, waiting. 

“Well we were thinking about it.. and we realized that we’ve been putting ourselves in serious danger this past week.” Steve confesses, looking at you and then at the ground. 

Of course it was about you. 

“Bucky has trigger words that make him go all Winter Soldier mode, so we need to find out if you have those, too.” Tony takes over for Steve, who looks guilty. 

“They never brainwashed me! It was easier for me to plan an escape with my conscious in tact so I just did what they asked!” The words are pouring out of your mouth. 

“And if that is true, then good, no harm done.” Wanda nods. “Just let me look, just incase. You might think they never altered your mind, but they could have made you believe that. It’s easier to work with a weapon, not a human.” 

You back up, clenching your fist. 

“No! I told you to stay out of my head!” Your voice trembles. It feels like everyone is closing in on you and it reminds you of the time you spent at Hydra being an experiment. You know if there’s one person who understands, it’d be Bucky. 

“Bucky,” You turn to him. “please.” 

You see Bucky open his mouth to speak, when suddenly you are ripped from the present and are shooting through the past. Your body feels like it’s being pulled taut, like a puppet on a string. Your time in Hydra flies through your mind, reversing and fast forwarding. An image flashes before your eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

You’re strapped down to a chair at the Hydra compound. Panicked screams of pain echo through the room, and you realize they’re from you. There’s a man that you’ve never seen before, pacing in circles around you as he reads in Russian from a book. 

“Longing.” 

You scream, trying to break out of the restraints. 

“Corroded.”

You see yourself in the present, before you flicker back to the past. You growl in pain. It feels like icicles penetrating your skull. 

“Corrupted.” 

For a moment you see nothing, before you flash back to the present. The two alternate like strobe lights. You double over and fall onto your knees, hitting the ground with such incredible force that your fist cracks the ground. 

“Two.”

You only see the present. You rise up, slowly. 

The switch is flipped.

tags (strike through means i couldn’t tag you!): @kitty31177 @braelyn250 @just-damn-peachy @satansknittingclub @cigarettesincemetaries @ellexirmalfoy @thiscuriouslymiss @-episkey-

#avengers imagine #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #hydra

[thiswreckageivebecome]

The Winter Soldier is Still Here (”Temporary Fix”-Part Twelve) (Bucky Barnes x reader) (Winter Soldier x reader)

Description: You’re working at the local farmers market when you meet Bucky and catch his eye, not only because you’re the only one who sells plums, but because you treat him like a normal person. As a friendship begins to bloom, it quickly grows into a relationship and you learn that life with Bucky isn’t as easy it originally seemed. I SUCK AT DESCRIPTIONS!

Word Count: 4905

Warning: Language. Angst. Sexual tension. Hints at smut. Mostly fluffy.

Author’s Note: Not every aspect matches with the Marvel films or comics. I chose to include and ignore some of the choices Marvel made for various reasons. Just know going in that not everything lines up with the storyline Marvel created and that is done on purpose.

Yes....One Direction may have had just a touch of inspiration for this chapter. ;)

After the holidays, I traveled back home to Lynchburg and was there only long enough to do laundry and get a few hours of sleep, before I was headed to the airport. Tony had been the one to supply the tickets, first class might I add, and transport services to the tower. I met the famous Mauve (a second progression of Jarvis, post-Ultron) in this process which was unreal.

"Hello, Ms. (y/l/n), I'm Mauve, here to assist you with anything you might need. I will be traveling back with you to Stark Tower. Is there any location in which you need to stop first?"

"Ahh, no, I don't think so."

"Then we'll be there shortly, miss. In the compartments to your left and right, you'll find any beverage or snack of choice."

"I'm fine, thank you, Mauve...by the way, it's nice to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you as well."

The ride to the tower was quiet as I took in the city as we rode by. Mauve didn't bother me, nor did I have much to say to him, but as I saw the tower ahead of us through the windshield, my nervous system kicked into overdrive. My hands began to get clammy, despite the 22-degree weather outside. All of the senses in my body seemed to be on high alert as my body began to tingle like when a part of it falls asleep. My stomach began to churn. I didn't know why I was so nervous.

"Mauve..."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"How are things at the tower? How is Bucky doing? Is everyone okay with me visiting?"

"Ma'am, I'm not sure I have the right to answer those questions."

"Not you too, Mauve! Can no one tell me anything?"

"I can tell you that Mr. Barnes is happy to be seeing you."

"Well, I guess that beats bad news...." I muttered to myself. Once we stopped, the door to the vehicle opened, seemingly of its own volition. I stepped out, dragging my bag behind me.

Sam appeared at my side, taking my bag.

"Hey, (y/n). Let's get inside, I'll show the way."

He didn't give me a chance to reply. He all but pushed me forward and into the building. Once we were in an elevator, I dared to speak.

"So hello to you too? What's the hushed rush about?"

"Brrr, it's cold outside. Can't you tell?" He was a terrible liar. I looked at him in the eyes, but he immediately looked away and to the LED screen telling us which floor we were on.

"Sam, what's wrong? Where's Bucky? What's going on? What about Steve?" I flew into a mountain of loaded questions. Why didn't Bucky meet me? Something clearly had to be wrong.

"Ahh, Bucky and Steve are a little preoccupied right now is all. I'll help you get settled. That's all."

"Sam. Steve and Bucky don't just become preoccupied unless something is wrong. Has Bucky had an episode? Dammit Sam, just tell me!" I half-yelled this at him, fed up with the secrecy, as the doors of the elevator opened. I continued to glare at him instead of out the doors until I heard Bucky's voice.

"I told them you wouldn't like this plan."

My head swished so quickly to see a healthy and happy looking Bucky. He grinned at me, eyes skimming down my body, taking in the sight of me. I couldn't help but stare at him. The elevator doors began to close, but I didn't notice until they were almost shut. I jumped forward, yelling "no!" while Sam's voice cut through the fog "calm down, woman, damn," as he pressed the door open button for me. Once the doors opened again, I jumped into Bucky's open arms. He held me tight and picked me up off the ground, but not far. My eyes squished tight, relishing in the moment and the feel of being in Bucky's arms again. He put me down after a few seconds but didn't let go. I looked around him and saw Steve smirking in our direction. I also saw party decorations spread across the massive...I assumed, living space. I also saw many of the Avengers sitting on the couches, staring at the exchange.

"Ahh, Bucky, what the hell..." I whispered to him.

"We're here to meet you," Peter Parker called.

I couldn't even acknowledge what was happening. I did feel my face heating up, however. Bucky leaned down slightly to give me a peck on the cheek and took my left hand, leading me over to where everyone else was sitting. Sam had joined them, but Steve had continued to the fridge and was pouring himself a glass of water.

"Everyone, this is (y/n)."

"So we finally get to meet the infamous (y/n). You're the only thing he knows how to talk about." Nat spoke boldly, almost seemingly annoyed. I wasn't sure why, but I immediately knew she was not going to be my biggest fan. Steve must have shot her a look from behind me because she quickly scoffed, rolled her eyes, and looked out the glass wall into the courtyard.

"So you're from that mountain town Lynchburg, right?" Wanda Maximoff asked, standing to greet me. She reached out her hand to shake mine.

"Ah, well it's where I live now, yes. It's nice to meet you.."

"I'm Wanda, it's a pleasure to meet you, (y/n)."

"Mr. Barnes, I have to argue with you about the color of Ms. (Y/n) eyes. It seems that instead of being the color of emeralds, they appear to be more of a sea foam variety."

"Well, Vision, I suppose that's one reason they call you that? Nice to meet you." I piped up, slightly offended (but still flattered) that Vision wanted to argue against Bucky, but I let it go. Vision smiled and nodded in my direction as an acknowledgment of what I had said. He must have sensed my dislike of his arguing as he didn't have anything else to say. I didn't mean to offend him, but I felt my protective instincts kicking into high gear, instincts to protect both Bucky and myself.

"We have some snacks and cake over here, (y/n), if you'd like something?" Steve was attempting to help the situation.

"Ahh, yeh, why don't you guys go ahead?"

"We've been waiting on you. You're the guest. You're supposed to go first," Natasha's words cut into me.

My face was heating, in anger, at this point. What the hell had I done to her? I turned my head quickly in her direction and dropped my hand from Buckys.

"I'm sorry, but what the h-"

"Nat, can I see you down the hall, please?" Steve cut me off, knowing this would not end well.

She huffed, but stood up and led the way down the hall. I turned to Bucky, partly embarrassed that I had almost shown my ass in front of people I didn't know...superheroes at that, but I didn't appreciate her attitude. Super assassin or not, I hadn't done anything for her to be hateful towards me.

Clint Barton stepped up to me, extending his hand. "Please excuse her, she was already upset before you got here. I'm Clint. It's nice to finally meet you."

I smiled at his kindness. "Lovely to meet you as well. If y'all are really waiting on me, please go ahead, I actually need to use the restroom."

"Here, I'll show you to your room. There's a bathroom there."

Bucky picked up my bags and motioned for me to walk ahead of him as he placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me where to go. Once the door to the elevator shut, I immediately looked at the floor, shaking my head.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper with your friend. I just...I don't understand why she was being so rude when we had just met."

"You don't have to apologize. She was being rude...and don't get me wrong, these people haven't treated me poorly, but they're more Steve's friends than mine. I thought your reaction was funny, actually. I'm glad you stood up to her. I should have stepped in, honestly, but like I said, they're more Steve's friends than mine." The elevator doors opened and we stepped out into a different looking floor that was full of doors, presumably bedrooms.

"No, it wasn't your place either. Don't worry about it. If you're not worried about it, I'm not going to worry about it either."

"This one here on the right. If it's not okay, we can arrange something else. My room is four doors down on the left if you need anything. I'll give you a few minutes to let you get settled if you'd like. You have an ensuite bathroom," he said as he stepped in, placing my bags on the bed.

"Yeh, that'll be great. I'd like to change into something a little nicer anyway."

"Okay, you don't have to, though, just so you know." He reached around my waist and pulled me in close. "You look beautiful just as you are." I stood on my tiptoes to meet his lips that were approaching mine. At the moment our lips touched it was as if all was right in the world. Things were normal, nothing was weird. Bucky was Bucky, I was myself, and we were the only two people that mattered in the universe. I'm unsure how I had fell so quickly, but I loved this man, and while I knew it wasn't going to be easy, I didn't want to ever let him go.

Our lips parted and he grabbed my hand to kiss the back of it, gripping it tightly in this thick and rough hand. He gave it a squeeze before letting go and throwing "I'll be in my room if you want to come get me whenever you're ready," over his shoulder as he walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

I went into the bathroom to throw cold water on my face. I needed to calm down. I was on edge after the rough and awkward situation with Natasha. Bucky helped calm me, but not completely. I looked at myself in the mirror, taking deep breaths and stilling myself and my determination to make nice with everyone. If I was being honest, while I found it important to get along with these people considering they were around Bucky more than I was at this point, seeing Bucky happy and healthy was my main goal, it's what I cared about most. I changed into clothes that were still comfortable, but looked nicer, and put on some makeup for extra effect. I still threw my hair into a loose bun on top of my head before taking a deep breath and walking out of my room and down the hallway.

"...how many doors did he say..." I wondered quietly to myself. "Crap." I stepped to the third door and tried to speak only loud enough that someone on the other side might possibly hear me, "Bucky???" I waited but heard nothing. I repeated the action at the next door. I still heard no answer. "Maybe it was the fifth?" I whispered to myself. I stopped at the next door and repeated my actions. I heard someone approaching the door so I smiled, thankful to have found the right room. To my surprise the door swung open, "this isn't Bucky's room. What the fuck do you want?" Natasha's icy voice met my smile, quickly turning my smile into a grimace.

"Well, clearly you know damn well what I want---ugh. This is fucking ridic-"

"There isn't anything ridiculous but as to why you're at my door. I didn't ask you to come here. If you're looking for Bucky, don't come to my door. He sure as hell isn't in here." Her voice had risen in volume. "He's too fucking hung up on y-" the door on my left swung open.

"(Y/n), I'm the fourth door down." He stepped out of his room and moved quickly to your side protectively. "Sorry, Natasha, it was an honest mistake. She didn't mean to bother you." He began to guide me away from the door as I glared at her for her attitude and words.

"Yeh, don't worry, it won't happen again." I spat back at her as Bucky practically pushed me into his room, closing the door before Natasha could return any words of her own. We heard her door slam and Bucky cringed before looking at the ceiling and rolling his eyes.

"Sorry about that...again."

"Bucky, you don't have anything to apologize about. She's being a bitch." I didn't bother with quieting my voice. I didn't know if the walls were soundproof or not, nor did I care. She could surely kill me in a second if she wanted, but at this point, I was beyond pissed and I didn't care. I normally wasn't a confrontational person, but something about Natasha put me on edge and made me crave violence.

I plopped onto the bed, head swimming with anger. Bucky got down on his knees in front of me, taking hold of my hands, enveloping them in his own.

"I think she's heading out on a mission in a few days. Let's just try and stay clear of her for now. I don't want anything to ruin my time with you, okay?"

I took a deep breath and let my eyes find his before smiling and saying: "Okay."

"Do you want to go downstairs now for what's left of your little welcoming party?"

"Sure, I don't want to be rude...well, rude to anyone else," I finished with laughter. He stood from the floor, pulling me up with him. We went back downstairs to find most of the goodies gone, which was fine considering Bucky didn't eat much and I wasn't really hungry as I had eaten a big breakfast before leaving Lynchburg. We hung around with everyone, except Natasha, who had seemingly barricaded herself in her room, having a lovely time. The crowd was full of jokers who loved having the others at the expense of their jokes. I continually caught Bucky looking at me with a grin on his face, Sam didn't miss it either because he kept calling Bucky out for it, causing us both to blush and the group to laugh. After a few hours and things were cleaned up, we went different ways. Some went to train, some to prepare for an upcoming mission, and some to relax.

"Want to sneak out of here? Go see the city," Bucky leaned in and whispered, even though we were seemingly alone.

I turned to him, a grin appearing. "Really?" I whispered back. "Yes, that'd be awesome. Let me grab some warmer clothes."

"I'll race you," he said as he was already making a mad dash for the stairs.

"Not fair!" I exclaimed, jumping up and running after him. He, of course, beat me but turned around at his door to wait for me to reach my own. He winked at me, causing me to roll my eyes and step into my room. I grabbed my coat and some warm accessories-head/ear wrap, gloves, and a big fluffy scarf.

When I stepped outside of my room, I wasn't expecting to see Bucky standing against the wall waiting, making me jump slightly, but of course, he noticed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." He snuck his arm around my hips as we walked to the elevator. We headed down and out into the cold, winter air. He pulled me closer for warmth. We walked happily along, catching up and discussing how things had been since we had parted in October. We walked around the city, taking in the tourist spots. Afterward, we went to Brooklyn. He wanted to show me where he and Steve used to live. I knew this was something he didn't share with a lot of people, so I was pleased he wanted to share it with me. Apparently, Steve had arranged to purchase the properties when he came out of the ice and got back on his feet. Bucky pulled out keys to open the door and once I stepped in, it was like stepping back in time.

"Yeh, Steve, with Tony's resources, fixed his place like it was when we were living here. He felt like it would be a nice place to get away for himself and then when he found out I was alive, he fixed this place up to try and help me remember."

"It's lovely, Bucky." I walked around inspecting all of the things from the past, afraid to touch anything, but looking at everything closely. He sat on the couch and watched me looking at everything before he realized how cold it was when he saw a chill run over my body. "Here, I'll make us some coffee." He stood and moved to the kitchen as I continued to look after thanking him.

He brought me a cup shortly and I followed him to the couch and sat beside him. I removed my shoes and pulled my feet up beside me, leaning into his side slightly.

"Do you remember anything about living here?"

"A few things. I'm remembering more, the more that Tony runs his little experiments...which has its benefits, but I'm also remembering bad things too...which sucks, but for now it's what I've got to deal with."

His face lost some of its color, his eyes losing a dash of life and his smile was no longer there, his face seemed to go blank.

I placed my head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck just a little to hopefully distract him. "Would you mind telling me some of the things you remember about living here?" I asked this as quietly and as gently as I could, so as not to set him off in any way.

I sensed him smiling beside me. He began to tell me everything he could remember, mostly good memories, but there were a few sad ones. He told me about the good memories he had with his family before they passed away. He told me about some good times he had with Steve, including wrestling matches and cartoon marathons when they were able to pull their money together to afford a small television set. He also explained the differences that occurred in their lives here when their parents and siblings had passed away. He shared how things had changed for them and around them, how it had brought them closer together.

"And so far, that's all I can remember....but I guess it's quite a bit considering it's 6 p.m..."

By the time he finished speaking, I had fallen even more in love with him, but I tried not to let it show. I looked at him fondly, almost in a daze, "is it really? I could care less. Can't we just stay like this forever?"

He smiled at me, putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me as close as he could. "I'm surprised they haven't come looking for us yet, to be honest."

"I guess that's a hint we should probably be heading back?"

"Yeh," he sighed, "probably so," he said, taking the coffee cups to the sink to wash. As he ran the water to wash the cups, I stepped up behind him, wrapping my arms around his tiny waist and placing my head on his back. I couldn't muster words in the moment, I just wanted to pour out all of the love and affection I held for this man from the pores of my skin into his. He finished washing the mugs quickly but didn't attempt to turn around, instead he placed his hands and arms on mine, and simply stood like that for a moment. He slowly turned around and I looked into his face, but not for long because there was a link between us that looked and felt like the cord from Back to the Future that had just sent Marty McFly back to his own time. Before my thoughts caught up with my actions, my body was pressed into his, mouths meeting and parting quickly. His hands reached to the back of my thighs, picking me up so that I could wrap my legs around him. In the process, I kicked the counter causing us to laugh between kisses as he stepped away from the counter. He walked towards the couch, bumping into tables and chairs on the way, causing me to giggle more, breaking apart our lips. He laid me on the couch and laid down on me, holding himself up slightly with his right arm. My arms still hung around his neck before a shrill ring broke us apart. His phone, probably the loudest phone ringtone I've ever heard, was going off.

"Shit." He breathed into my face. He stood up and pulled the phone out of his pocket. "What do you want, Steve?"

"Buck, where the hell are you? We've been looking all over. Is (y/n) with you? What's going on?" I heard Steve practically shouting through the phone.

"Oops," I whispered before busting into a giggling fit, causing Bucky to lose the anger in his face and begin to smirk at me.

"Everything is fine. (Y/n) and I wanted to get out in the city. We're in Brooklyn, at the house. Can I let you go, please? We'll be back later."

"Buck, first off, you could have just told someone. Second off, I kinda need you back here."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Just need you back. We can discuss it when you get here."

Bucky sighed deeply. "Fine." He heard a returning sigh on Steve's end. "And don't sigh at me, acting like I'm interrupting your plans."

"See you soon, jerk."

"Whatever, punk."

He hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket, looking down at me still sprawled on the couch.

"So we have to go back, huh?"

"Yeh, I guess so."

It was now my turn to sigh as I sat up, "alright, let's do this then." We grabbed everything we had brought and stepped outside, Bucky locking the door behind us. As we stepped to the curb, he began to hail a cab. I stuck my hands in his coat pocket, pulling him closer to me. He started giggling and I raised myself on my tip toes and began to stroke the inside of his neck with my nose before gradually adding butterfly kisses along the way. As he continued to attempt to get a cab to stop, the affections increased with the longer amount of time I had to wait in the cold. He began to chuckle as I tickled his neck with my tongue. A cab pulled up as he had just pulled me closer. He opened the door to the cab for me. As I climbed in I practically pulled him along behind me as I still had my hand in his coat pocket. He slid in beside me and barely got out "50th and Broadway," to the driver before I pulled his face to mine. He started to pull me closer as we kissed, but it wasn't close enough. I broke away just barely enough so that I could straddle him in the backseat, an audience of a taxi driver completely forgotten. We couldn't get enough of each other. This was something we had both felt, but not acted on. It was as if this was the last opportunity we had, last we would ever have. We wanted to completely devour each other and use each other up until there was nothing left, then come back for more. His hands grasped my back, lowering and raising depending on the moment. To have been what he had been through, for the amount of time, he hadn't forgotten how to kiss...how to touch...how to feel a woman in all of the right ways. My skin was crawling with exhilaration and my spirits soared. Before we knew it, the cab had stopped and the taxi driver had to cough loudly four times to get our attention. I was the one who finally heard him as I dislocated myself from Bucky's lips, leaning down into his shoulder and started laughing.

"Shit. Sorry, sir." I muttered loud enough for the cabbie to hear, trying to keep from laughing. Bucky brushed the inside of my thigh on accident as he reached into his pocket to get his wallet with cash and tip for the cab, causing both of our cheeks to turn scarlet. He handed the money to the driver, staring deeply into my eyes the entire time. I slid off of his lap and out of the cab first, grabbing his hand on my way out. Once the door shut, I pulled him in again, not caring who saw or who was around.

After a few moments, he pulled away, gasping, voice husky, "okay, okay, we've got to...let's just slow down," he had pulled his lips away, but he placed his forehead on mine, eyes hazy in the heat of the moment.

Breathlessly I replied, grinning, "okay. Slow down. I can do that."

He looked at me, chuckling. "Something to eat?"

"Other than you, you mean?" I replied seductively, but at seeing his eyes triple in size and his jaw drop, I stepped back to avoid crashing my head into his chest as I had to drop and grab my side in laughter.

"I was thinking more like....a burger..."

His response made tears come to my eyes from laughter and he shortly joined me.

"I guess that'll work too. Let's go." I grabbed his hand and we headed for a food truck I saw down the street. After getting our food, I saw the tower a few blocks away so we headed in that direction as we ate.

"So what do you think is going on? Why Steve needed you back?"

"Honestly....there's probably nothing going on. They probably just don't want me to be away from the tower and go off the reservation."

I stared thoughtfully ahead, contemplating how to respond to this information.

"....Bucky....is it really that bad? I mean...is the treatment and tests they're doing helping at all? Is it making things worse?"

"It's just....there's a lot to be undone. It takes time....I'm just hoping it'll work...."

"I hope, for your sake, it does too."

"....and what if it doesn't?"

"What do you mean?" His question worried me. What was he thinking? I hope he didn't mean something like he'd harm himself (the story of Jimmy wouldn't leave my mind) or go back into cryo. I don't think I could easily live without him anymore. I realize this seemed silly, but the idea of him not existing on this earth anymore completely broke everything inside of me.

"....I guess what I mean is....if it doesn't work.....what are we going to do....about us....I can't let what happened, happen again....I just can't." His argument was so reminiscent of the story Roger had told me about Jimmy.

We had reached the tower. I stopped walking and stared at Bucky, tears forming in my eyes. He stopped and turned around to look at me.

"Buc- ...I ca-...I won-....Bucky, jus-" I wanted so badly to assure him, but I was cut off by Steve stepping out and pulling us both inside.

"You guys, it's been an hour and a half. Where have you been?"

"What the hell is wrong, Steve? What is the rush? Can't Bucky live, please?" I began to yell. I was over emotional honestly, but it was called for.

"(Y/n), can you please go back to your room," Steve said, Vision appearing out of nowhere. "I need to borrow Bucky for a little while. Vision will show you where to go."

"Steve, wh-"

"(Y/n), please, it's important."

"Fine," I bit the word at him, thoroughly frustrated. I followed Vision, arms crossed in anger. Once Vision left me at my room, I decided that I wasn't going to put up with this. What the hell was so important? I snuck out of my room and went to Bucky's room first, but he wasn't there. I began to explore. I wandered around seemingly aimless for a while before I heard shouts from down a hallway I'd found on a different floor.

"Nat-calm down. Nat- listen to me! He's here, okay. He's okay. He's here." I recognized Steve's voice. Even in intense situations, his voice always remained calm and one of reason.

I stepped slowly closer and around the corner, a glass wall was revealed. This must be their training room. I peeked around the corner, not wanting to be seen, but wanting to see everything. Bucky slowly walked across the room, cautiously towards Natasha. She stopped fighting and struggling against Clint and Wanda. When she saw Bucky, understood it was him and that he was okay, her face changed completely. Clint and Wanda released her as she ran to Bucky and forced herself into his arms. He held them out, instead of enclosing them around her. His face revealed confusion, but Steve simply looked at him and gave him an "it's okay, just go with it" hand signal. It was at that moment I realized why Natasha hated me.

She was in love with Bucky.

@damnjackyyy @flibertigibbet23 @smilexcaptainx @jade-cheshire@wolfgamzee@ff-exotic12 @i-had-a-life-once@bunchofandoms@nutmeg2080@sebsugartits@angela-fangirl101@awinterloveuniverse@inkeddreamers @puezzy@haso0osah101 @mrshopkirk @heir-of-light-33@wickeddreamer21@xuaniexuan@myearthguardian@jpthrough@yurikochan@heyreadthis@gabby913@peterjackson143 @fuckoffbroseph@giggles2107 @islandpeeps@klf1999@midnightsinger @dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush@crystalrose1218@civilwarkilledme@the-renaissance @mitra-k-w@justaroundthecorn-er @omgpokelove@welcometothecity@nopevilleluas@ironicallyinspired@riskymorris@taliacorona @mmxiibalpreet @sophiewyszkowski@idiosyncratic-mortals @titaniumurie @isle-of-flightless-birdz@im-screaming-because-of-fanfics @cami25393 @sebbystanlover-vk@queenofthe-bitches  @wowthatstasty

Part One           Part Two            Part Three           Part Four

Part Five              Part Six           Part Seven          Part Eight

Part Nine           Part Ten            Part Eleven

#the winter soldier is still here #bucky barnes #winter soldier #fanfiction #my fic #wattpad #marvel #mcu #mcu au #Bucky Barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #lynchburg va #nyc #stark tower #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier oneshot #captain america #falcon #black widow #scarlet witch #vision #hawkeye #spiderman