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loving-bucky-is-easier · 3 years

Text

in the right hands

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary:

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips, from the frost melting into teardrops on her eyelashes, from her slack face that seemed like the life was being drawn straight out of it with every wavering breath.

Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.

Warnings: 18+, language, whump (of course--it’s me who's writing it), violence, injury, angst, mention of disassociation, mentions of prayer and mild religious background, non-sexual nudity, that good old sharing-body-heat trope, fluff

Minors--this is not for you. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please be discerning. Do not interact.

A/N: Okay, it’s been a bit. Life decided to screw me over a little bit, but we’re here and we’re making the most of it. Special thanks to @fragile-heartt, @dazzlingpoe, @sventeen-daybreak, and some lovely anons for their kind words and fic recs to help me through. If you’ve sent me a request, I promise its on the docket and is coming eventually. If I’ve liked your fic recently, a reblog is likely on your way as well. Much love to you all. 🖤

At least the blood dripping from the lacerations on his hand was warm.

Bucky was certain that the rest of him was fairly warm as well, the serum in his veins hardly struggling against the snow crunching under his feet and the icy flakes thrown with abandon against his face by the chill wind. But his entire being felt numb as he marched through the growing blizzard, stormy eyes never really leaving the fragile bundle in his arms.

He could feel his blood dampening her hip, slowing as it spread down her side. Life dancing from his veins, an offering to pull her along with him. He’d gladly continue to bleed if it warmed her even a little, if it could coerce the blue from her lips and calm the shivers wracking through her body. But he doubted the serum would allow his bleeding to go on much longer.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Stay with me, doll.”

His only answer was the howl of the wind whipping across his face.

“Why doesn’t Hydra pick someplace tropical for their bases?”

Across the conference table, Bucky snorted. You flashed him a grin, leaning forward on your elbows, goaded further into tormenting Steve.

“I’m serious,” you continued. “Literally every base Bucky and I have picked off has been somewhere with a shit-ton of snow. I’m already dreading the twelve-mile trudge.”

Steve paused his shuffling of what you had no doubt was yet another frigid assignment. “Twelve-mile trudge?” he sighed.

You leaned forward even further, palms pressing into the table. “Well of course the high and mighty Captain America wouldn’t know about the twelve-mile trudge. That’s just for lowly B-list Avengers like Buck and me,” you mused in mock annoyance.

Steve glanced at his friend, but Bucky’s only response was to throw his hands up in lazy defense.

“Are you gonna tell me what it is, or are you just going to continue to pontificate over there?”

“Can’t I do both?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Well, Cap,” you continued, “the twelve-mile trudge is the lovely little walk we all get to take after missions without extraction. The minimum twelve-mile adventure after we’ve kicked ass and nearly killed ourselves saving lives, to find our safe house. Which never has a heating system or, more importantly, any good snacks.”

“More importantly?” Bucky interjected.

“Shut up and support me.” Bucky rolled his eyes and offered a sarcastic thumbs up. “Every base Buck and I have taken out in the last three months has had us wading through snow to get to our safe house. I petition we go save somebody in Bermuda next,” you finished with a teasing grin.

Steve chuckled. “Your petition has been noted. But for now you B-list Avengers” -- you gasped in mock offense -- “will be sticking with your wintry escapades. So pack a scarf for that twelve-mile trudge. Which, by the way, is not a good name for it. Or at least not a correct one. SHIELD protocol requires a minimum 19-kilometer radius from any known unfriendlies for safe house setup. So maybe you should come up with a more accurate moniker.”

“Nah,” you dismissed. “My alliteration is cuter.”

“Oh, of course,” Steve nodded with eyes narrowed, clearly mocking. “Well, you stick with that, but please note that your safe house for extraction is 22.6 kilometers from the Hydra base,” he warned as he passed you and Bucky your mission briefs, “so your trudge will be just over 14 miles.”

“Oh, joy,” you snipped, flicking the folder open.

“Standard operation. You’ve done half a dozen of these together already. Download whatever intel you can find, then blow the place to hell. I’m not expecting--”

“Pardon me, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interjected, “but you are needed in Mr. Stark’s lab. Agent Romanoff just returned with some time-sensitive information. Dr. Banner would like your eyes on it immediately.”

“Copy that, FRIDAY,” Steve said to the ceiling. You stifled a laugh, watching him address the AI as if she were a physical presence. You turned to Bucky to see if he shared your amusement, but he suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Eyes shifting, half-chewed fingernails picking at the dry skin on his bottom lip.

Damn it. Not again.

Steve turned back to you and Bucky. “I’ll leave you two to go over the mission briefs together. Let me know if you have questions. Wheels up for the quinjet tomorrow at 0600 hours. Sam will drop you over the base. Now if you’ll both excuse me.” Steve quickly made his way out, and with him he seemed to pull the air right out of the room.

Bucky continued to fidget across the table, clearly reading the same page in the mission brief over and over again. Mere moments ago, he’d been teasing right along with you, and now it was as though he were trying to hide from you. His tactics might have worked better if you weren’t the only ones in the room.

You stifled a sigh. If this had been the first time this had happened, you might have chalked it up to pre-mission jitters, or maybe residual discomfort at a subordinate showing disrespect to her superior officer left over from his time in the military. But lately the easy rhythm the two of you used to share was reserved for the dance of combat, any other interactions reduced to something closer to stepping on each other’s toes. That is, if he didn’t flee the dance altogether.

You found yourself zoning out, completely incapable of absorbing any of the information printed on the pages in front of you.

If he has a problem with me he should just say so. How are we supposed to keep working together if he won’t even look at me?

You flipped the page, mentally apologizing to the poor SHIELD agent who had compiled this beautifully thorough brief you weren’t even reading.

Bucky flipped one too.

What did I do? What changed? Should I ask him? Should I wait for him to speak up? Did I offend him somehow?

Bucky picked at his lip, drawing blood from a small crack in the center. His tongue darted out to sweep across it, and yours followed suit on your own chapped lip. You flinched back, having to physically pull your stare from him.

You idiot. And you’re wondering why he’s so uncomfortable around you?

“Hey if I--”

“Do you want coffee with me?” Bucky blurted so violently his words seem to knock your folder to the floor.

“Umm...what?

“I mean... sorry, I--would you maybe, sometime... want to... please... get coffee with me?” he finally managed, unable to meet your eye.

The only sound for a moment was the air conditioning whirring.

Without warning, you burst out laughing. A flash of hurt painted across Bucky’s face as he sunk further into his chair and you quickly realized your mistake.

“No! I mean, yes, of course I want to get coffee with you! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... Buck, I was so worried you were upset with me for something and you just wanted to... ask me out? God, why were you so nervous? Did you think I would say no?”

A small, slightly embarrassed smile crept back onto Bucky’s face. “I mean, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I didn’t know if you’d want to deal with... all of this.”

You snorted. “James Buchanan Barnes, you are a catch. And you did ruin what we had. For like three weeks when you pretended not to know me every time we were alone together.”

He huffed. “You’re intimidating, doll! It took me a while to work up the nerve.”

You blushed at the nickname; it wasn't the first time you’d gotten it, but it meant more given the circumstances. “Well, I’m glad I have my best friend back. And when we’re back from this God-awful snowy hellscape, it’s a date.”

“You got it, doll.”

“Maybe a trip to Bermuda, too.”

His laugh filled the room. God, you’d be content if it was the last thing you ever heard. “Sure, Y/N.”

By the time Bucky reached the door of the safe house, Y/N wasn’t shaking anymore. He knew that wasn’t a good thing.

The door was opened and closed again in a heartbeat. The room surveyed in another.

He was a hurricane tangled around the front room, drawing its contents to the center, a nest of blankets and firewood and pillows and anything that might be of any use deposited around his eye of the storm: Y/N, laid unmoving across the sagging couch.

A sharp contrast to Bucky, who was the storm itself, his movements not stopping for a breath.

He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t ever stop.

Start the fire. Move the couch closer. Collect the blankets. Check the exits. Find water. Do something do something do anything at all.

Just don’t stop to breathe. Don't stop to think.

Because if he stopped to think he would stop breathing too. And how would he save her then?

The fire crackled in the hearth, a slight pop as one of the logs split, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t even remember having gotten the fire started.

Bucky scrubbed a hand down over his face. You’re not focused, Barnes. You’re a soldier. Y/N needs that right now. She needs you to compartmentalize and actually save her life, not just freak the fuck out over her. If you keep this up, you’re gonna miss something.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaled heavily, then allowed himself to look at the mess he’d already made of their little safe house.

Behind him: the fire was going. A pile of logs stacked nearby. A good start.

On the half-step up to the kitchen: a case of water bottles lying on its side, a couple of them leaking onto the hardwood floor. Clearly he’d gotten side-tracked as he’d brought them in.

At the edge of the hallway to the bedroom: a small heap of blankets he’d dragged off the beds, halfway to where they were really needed. The rug upended from the couch being dragged across it.

And in the center of the mess, Y/N. Chest rising almost imperceptibly. One arm hanging limply off the side of the couch, drops of water from her thawing tac suit dripping steadily off her fingertips.

And what had Bucky done to warm her up so far?

Placed a throw pillow on her chest. Apparently somewhere in his little hurricane, he’d thought “I should cover her up” and the best he could do in his absent-minded state was a fucking pillow.

He grit his teeth as he strode towards her. You fucking idiot, Barnes. This is what happens when your emotions take over. You have to fucking disassociate to not lose it and then all you can manage is shit like this.

The pillow was quickly replaced with the blanket off the back of the couch. He knew it wasn’t enough. He could almost hear Sam’s voice in the back of his head telling him what he needed to do. But could he cross that line with her? Would she ever forgive him?

He pressed two fingers to the pulse point on her throat, and before he could even feel the assurance of her heartbeat, her breath hitched at the pressure. His eyes fell to her lips. Blue.

“Raspberries aren’t blue.”

“Well, these ones are.”

“Y/N, that doesn’t even--”

“Bucky, I don’t care what fucking color they are. Try the damn popsicle.”

“Why, so I can turn my entire mouth that color like you?”

“That’s half the fun.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.

He took one more look at the pile of two measly blankets by the hallway.

Fuck.

“Please forgive me, doll,” he muttered as he fumbled with the buckles on the front of his suit. The damp leather squeaked as he peeled it off and dropped it heavily to the floor. Faster, Barnes.

Boots toed off. Belt and pants and soaked-through thermal layers adding to the mess.

And then, left only in his boxers and undershirt, Bucky froze, his shaking fingers gripping the back of the shirt neck. He knew the shirt had to come off. It was soaked through, and in this state she needed as much direct body heat as he could offer. But Y/N had never seen the mess of tissue that was his left shoulder. If she woke up, and God... God, he prayed she would.

He bit down on the side of his tongue. This is what she needs, Barnes. And when this scares her away you’ll at least have saved her life. That’s all that matters.

The shirt joined the rest of the hurricane. He wished his metal arm could, too. Wished he could discard anything that tore him away from the eye of the storm.

Bucky kneeled next to the couch and lifted the blanket off of her. His fingers rested hesitantly on the zipper at the base of her throat. Who are you to touch her? He bit his tongue. Just do it, Barnes. You know it has to happen.

The zipper stopped about halfway down, teeth locked together by ice. He tugged a bit harder, but all he managed to do was jostle her entire torso. Cursing, he turned and dug through his pile of clothes until he found a small knife.

He flipped it into his left hand, stretched the material away from her as much as he could, and began to cut it away, using his right hand as a barrier. With every brush of his fingertips against her icy skin, his heart sank a bit further.

Four incisions in the material from her sternum to the end of each limb. The damp fabric curled away from her, leaving behind a sea of goosebumps. He eased her up gently, first her torso, then her legs, slid the ruined suit out from under her, and discarded it on the floor.

Bucky brushed his fingers experimentally on the strap of her sports bra, the waistband of her spandex shorts. Both soaked through.

The shorts went first. At least she still had underwear on underneath them. He was sure they were wet, too, but there was no way in hell he could bring himself to do away with those.

Before he could doubt himself any further, he slit the sports bra down the front and at the straps, laying the blanket back over her chest before he removed any of the pieces.

He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. That was the hardest part.

Bullshit. The hardest part was what he knew he needed to do next.

He scooped up the blankets, wrapping one around his shoulders and placing the other next to Y/N.

This is literal proof, Barnes. What more could you have asked for? He climbed over her to lay on his side, his back pressed to the back of the couch.

It’s not a threat. It’s going to save her life. He rolled her gently to her side to face him, her back to the roaring fire.

His ma always used to tell him to be careful what he prayed for.

“If you pray for patience, God isn’t going to just make you more patient. He’s gonna give you opportunities to be patient.”

He slid the blanket between them down to wrap around her feet. Tucked the one he'd left behind her around her back and shoulders.

Had he prayed for this? Prayed to learn what it felt like to make contact with another person and not drown in the hurt that they brought. Prayed to learn not to flinch away from the glancing touch of friend and foe alike. Prayed to be less broken, to let someone prove that he was real, and whole, or at least whole enough.

Did he even pray at all anymore? Or had they too long seemed to fall only on deaf ears?

It was all he could do to suppress the alarms going off in his brain, jarring enough that he had to pause for a moment. Fists tensed, eyes squeezed shut, breaths forced out through his nose. Proof, he chided. Proof that it doesn’t always have to be...

He pulled her into him, pressed his bare chest to hers. Wrapped his arms of flesh and metal around her.

...pain.

She gave a low, broken moan, her nose like ice nuzzling into his neck.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” He exhaled shakily.

Every inch of her skin was ice. No, snow. Soft, not sharp. This isn’t pain, Barnes. He wished there was more of him to give. To wrap around her and drive the cold away.

Slowly, gingerly, he eased himself closer, all the while grounding himself in the lack of pain being visited upon him. He tucked her arms into her chest, the backs of her forearms pressed flat against his stomach. He tangled his legs with hers.

Bucky settled his arms around her back, pulling her as tightly to him as he could. And then he allowed himself one kiss to the crown of her head.

“Bermuda next time, okay?” he sighed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bucky roared to no one in particular.

“Buck, calm down.”

“Calm down?” he asked incredulously, a wild look in his eyes as he scrabbled at the thick glass pane between you. The glass that had descended between you without warning, sealing you both in opposite sides of the room.

You pressed your hand against the glass opposite his. “Bucky,” you said gently, “panicking isn’t going to do us any good. My way out is locked. Why don’t you go out yours and come around to meet--”

“I’m not leaving you until I know what’s going on.”

“Okay. So then we’re stuck in here for a moment. Let’s figure out what we can and go from--”

“You should listen to your little girlfriend, Soldat,” a snide voice called over the loudspeaker. “Panicking won’t do you any good.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. You knew instantly he knew that voice, and nothing good would come with it.

“Of course,” the voice continued, “there’s nothing that would really do you any good at this point. Did you really think we’d allow you to pick off our bases one by one without consequence?”

You chewed on your lip, deciding Bucky seeing you confident was worth any retribution that came from some sarcasm. “I don’t know,” you crowed. “The first six went down pretty easily.”

A low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine crackled through both sides of the room. “Lovely Y/N. Unfortunately for you, your only use to me is to remind our dear little Soldat who he is meant to be. He’ll be rejoining us. Where he belongs.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed. Your eyes locked on Bucky’s. You wished you could calm the terror in them.

The voice ignored you. “You see, Y/N. I have a little problem, and I think you can help me.”

You opened your mouth in protest, but before you could speak, he snapped. “Interrupt me again,” he hissed, and I’ll send someone in to cut out his tongue. The Winter Soldier does not need to speak.”

You grit your teeth, biting back several choice words. Not worth it.

“As I was saying, I need your help. The Soldat loves you, Y/N.” Bucky’s eyes fell, unable to meet your gaze. “I see it in how he protects you, how the two of you fight together. I made him. I know what my machine looks like when it has been corrupted.”

Bucky was backing slowly away from the glass, face burning in shame.

“I could wipe him, but we both know that Sergeant Barnes has a nasty habit of breaking through to fight back to the ones he loves.”

“Bucky,” you whispered. His eyes flicked to yours, clouded with tears.

“You are his heart, Y/N. And the Winter Soldier’s heart,” he paused, chuckling as if sharing a joke with himself. “The Winter Soldier’s heart must be cold as ice.”

You screeched as you were hit from behind with a stream of ice-cold water. A second followed, this time from your right. You spun quickly, trying to dodge in vain as a dozen swiveling nozzles emerged from the three walls.

You heard Bucky yell your name from the other side of the glass.

You tried to step closer to him, to the one barrier not spitting water at you, but your feet slid out from under you and you crashed to the floor. The streams of water zeroed in, dousing you from head to toe. You coughed, struggling to breathe under the assault.

Without warning, it stopped. You sputtered, shoving the hair plastered to your face back and out of the way.

“Y/N! Doll, are you okay?” You looked up. Bucky was pressed against the glass, a frantic look in his eyes.

You coughed a bit more. “Yeah,” you grumbled, getting slowly to your feet. “I’m fine. What the hell was--” Your eyes fell on a display projected on the glass. “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“I--shit.”

“Y/N, you gotta talk to me, doll.”

You took a deep breath. The display continued to tick lower. You could feel it, too.

“Bucky, you gotta get out of here.”

“Don’t be an idiot. We’ll both get out of here. What’s got you--”

“Bucky, leave. I don’t want you to--”

“Will you tell me what the fuck is going on?” he roared.

You exhaled shakily, finally meeting his eye. “They’re gonna freeze me out, Buck. There’s a temperature read-out up there. And it’s moving down. Fast.”

Bucky seemed to stop breathing.

“They want you to watch this. They want it to break you. Go. Get out before they come to collect... what’s left.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “This is because of me,” he breathed.

“No,” you snapped. You surged forward, pressing both hands to the glass, trying to still the shivers starting to wrack through them. “This is Hydra. They are sadistic and awful regardless of who’s involved. They got me. Please don’t let them get you too.” You rolled your shoulders, which were already starting to stiffen up. “They’re taunting you with that door. They think they know you. That you won’t take it and go. They think they’re breaking you--”

“They are.”

“Bucky,” your voice broke. Your whole body was starting to tense. You resisted the urge to look up at the temperature display. No good news would be waiting if you did.

“If I leave they’ll kill you immediately.”

Your teeth chattered as you sunk to the floor in front of the glass. “Wouldn’t that be kinder than this?”

He fell to his knees as if you’d pulled him down with you. “I--”

“I’m growing impatient,” the voice rang out again. You curled more tightly in on yourself, tucking your knees to your chest. “Let’s try this.”

Vents slid open on all sides, and chill air rushed in with a roar, like the winds of a blizzard battering you as you sat pressed against the glass.

Your vision was starting to darken at the edges. You thought you knew what cold felt like, but this... God, you just wanted it to be over.

You could see Bucky mouthing your name, saying something, but you couldn’t hear him anymore over the wind. He scrambled to his feet, and you were glad for a moment. He was going to go.

That hope was crushed as he threw himself against the glass with everything he had. Nothing. No give. No crack. But that didn’t discourage him. Fists of flesh and metal attacked the barrier between you without pause.

Your breaths were shallower with each exhale.

His skin broke first. Split knuckles spattering red across the tiny web of cracks he was forming.

You fought your heavy eyelids, fought your body pitching backwards to the floor.

With all the control you could muster, you pressed a hand to the glass in front of you. Bucky froze in his frenzied attack, something feral in his eyes stilled by the pleading in yours.

“I love you,” you whispered. There was nothing but pure anguish on his face. You couldn’t tell if he understood you. But there was nothing more you could do as your frozen fingers slid down the glass, and the world went black.

Bucky flinched violently when Y/N began to stir.

He wished he could help it, wished her breath against his neck didn’t startle him even as it steadied.

It was easier for a bit, when her shivering resumed. That at least kept him present with her. But when that began to settle as her temperature rose further, he was lulled into half a doze, content to hold her until she woke.

He was nearly asleep when she inhaled sharply, hands instinctively pressing into his stomach and pushing away.

Bucky froze for a second, thrown briefly back into half a blurry memory of sharp stabs to his abdomen, but he quickly shook it off. Her hands were soft. Panicked, but gentle.

He eased back into the couch cushion until he could see her face. The panic in her eyes was already starting to ebb, and they crinkled at the edges when he met her gaze.

“Hi,” she croaked.

Bucky fought the tears welling in his eyes. “Hi, doll.”

A shiver wracked through her. “Cold,” she muttered, cuddling back into him. Her cheek pressed back against his neck.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “No shit.”

The only sound for a moment was the last embers of the fire crackling.

“Did the charges work?”

“‘Course they did, sweetheart. You programmed ‘em. Set ‘em off as soon as we were clear.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe that’s your first question.”

“Well, what... what happened?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “How much do you remember?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I, uh... I told you to go and you wouldn’t. You were trying to break the glass. Your hand—”

“Is fine. Stopped bleeding a while ago. Helen’ll stitch it up when we’re back. Medevac is on its way, too.”

“Was it Steve that answered?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say we could go to Bermuda now?”

Bucky laughed. “Y’know, I think he’s considering it.”

“He damn well better be.” She pulled away from him, her eyes welling up a bit as they bore into his. “It was so cold.”

“I thought you were gone, doll,” Bucky whispered. “I don’t know how long it took for me to break through after you went down, but it was... too fuckin’ long.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You were right, though.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Once I got to you, getting out was easy. I guess they didn’t think I’d be able to pull it together. Seeing someone I... someone else go through some of the same things I did.”

Y/N grimaced. “You never told me that. You mentioned cryo, but that’s not the same.”

Bucky sighed, turning his head to stare at the ceiling. “There’s a lot I don’t talk about. What good would it do?”

Gentle fingers turned his chin back down to face her. A calloused thumb running small circles along the edge of his jaw. “It might make things easier for you, Buck. To not have to carry it by yourself.”

He smiled ruefully. “Maybe when we go to Bermuda. If Thor can provide some of that Asgardian shit.”

“Fair. I doubt this kitchen has anything to help make that conversation any less painful.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his lip, mulling over her words. “I almost could, doll. I never thought I’d be able to be this... close. To anyone. Ever again. And not completely fall apart. But you... you’re so... you reminded me that I could...” He couldn’t find the words, but she nodded.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Buck. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for you to be there, and then to have to...” Her eyes flicked down, then back to his. It was only for a split second, but it clearly acknowledged the elephant he’d put in the room.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“Don’t. You crossed a line for me. I know how important your space and privacy are to you, and you sacrificed that for me. You saved my life.”

Bucky flushed, at a loss for words. “You should, uh... I should get you some water.” Before she could answer, he unwrapped himself from her and started to climb over, but his legs tangled in the blankets and he fell heavily on top of her.

Bucky froze, his ears heating up as he locked eyes with her. Shit. “I—”

She burst out laughing. He breathed a sigh of relief, his own laughter joining hers.

“Y’know,” she smirked, arching an eyebrow. “I could get used to this.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. His entire face was on fire. Y/N laughed even harder, and he couldn’t control his grin.

“Guess there’s not really any coming back from this, is there?” he sighed.

“Probably not. I mean I did say I love you thinking they’d be my last words.” She said it so casually, like it wasn’t the most important thing he’d ever heard.

“You what?” he choked.

“Yeah, that’s what I was trying to say right before I passed out. Kinda dramatic of me, I guess, but to be fair that Hydra asshole started it. ‘The Winter Soldier’s heart must be cold as ice.’ For fuck’s sake...” She was still talking, but Bucky couldn’t hear her over the blood roaring in his ears.

She what?

“...like did he have that setup in every room just so he could have that specific play on words...”

She’s not just humoring me with a coffee date. She loves me.

“...I wonder what their water bill is like, if they had that...”

She loves me. She loves me and I can hold her and nothing hurts and she loves me and--

“Buck?”

“Hmm?” He had stopped listening entirely, but refocusing on her beautiful eyes found them filled with concern. He had been staring.

“Are you--”

“You love me?”

She grinned. “I do.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. A breath, and then his lips met hers too. Warm as summer sunshine. Sweet as honey.

"I love you, too,” he whispered into the breath shared between them. She hummed contentedly, shifting slightly, and he suddenly realized he was still lying on top of her. “I’m squishing you, aren’t I?”

“Mmm, maybe just a bit,” she laughed. “Hey!” she yelped as he rolled the two of them without warning away from the edge of the couch until their positions were reversed.

Giggling in the dying glow of the fire, the color returning to her face, her eyes twinkling in the dim light, she was radiant.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathed, stealing another kiss.

“Bucky,” she laughed, “I was literally just defrosted like some godforsaken leftovers. There’s no way that--”

“Shut up and support me,” he teased in an awful imitation of her voice. She groaned, pressing her face into his chest before planting a thumbs up next to her head. He could feel her laughter shaking through his entire core. He wanted to feel that for the rest of his life.

Across the room, the clearance light began to flash. Y/N stilled, and in the silence Bucky could make out the drone of a quinjet approaching.

“Medevac. About time,” he muttered.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not wearing any clothes.”

“Right. Yeah, umm--”

“My suit--”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Well, shredded, anyways.”

“Right,” she grinned. “So you’re definitely paying for the coffee.”

“As if I wasn’t going to already. You wound me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll make it up to you. But first I’m gonna steal your t-shirt. And you’re probably not gonna get it back.”

“Ah, so it begins.” Bucky grinned as he pulled her in for one more kiss.

He breathed her in as he did, breathed in the warmth that his embrace had given back to her, breathed in the light of her laughter and the softness of her touch. Breathed in the feeling of skin on skin, intimate and innocent all the same. Breathed in her fingers carding through his hair, her belly pressed to his, her toes on his ankles, offering nothing but comfort. Breathed in her palm pressed nonchalantly, uncaringly to the scars on his shoulder. Breathed in the believing that if he could preserve the light that was her, his eye in the storm, then maybe the storm wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I absolutely adore this trope, and I couldn’t resist sharing my own take on it. But if you like it as much as I do, please check out Burya by @constantwriter85, Cold and Broken by @sunriserose1023, and Cold, Cold Water by @wkemeup — their variations are all insanely brilliant. As always, feedback is so incredibly appreciated. And in case no one told you, you look really good today. 🖤

Update: I created some bonus content for this fic for my Paper Anniversary celebration! Check out some answered questions about this pairing’s dynamic and the writing process for this fic here.

Tag List - Comment, message, or send me an ask if you’d like to join! (If you’re crossed out, I couldn’t tag you. Sorry!)

@buckysbabygorl / @bvckyswildflower / @justanothermarvelfanaccount / @kalesrebellion / @kolakube9 / @levylovegood / @pspice639 / @saiyanprincessswanie / @soullessheartlesshumanoid

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes whump #bucky barnes angst #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky x hurt!reader #tw hypothermia #marvel #marvel fic

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bucky-bucket-barnes · 3 years

Text

singing in the rain

Summary: You leave the Compound to go home on a stormy night. Barnes isn’t too keen on the idea of the girl riding home all by herself in such weather and decides to drive you home.

Pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader

Warnings: Mainly fluff, a little bit of awkward!bucky, a little bit of embarrassed!reader

Word Count: 1.3k words

Torrential downpour did not begin to describe the weather outside. The past few days had been an unholy week of sweltering heat, but today mother Earth had decided to gift the Compound plenty of rain. You had been interning as a lab technician for a few weeks at Stark Industries and Mr. Stark had personally invited you to come down and work more intimately with the heroes you designed gear for. Of course, you said yes without question. Working with the Avengers would not only be an honor but a step closer to working permanently for Stark Industries. It also didn’t hurt that they were pretty cute. But as you gazed out your office window at the thick pelts of rain plummeting from the sky, you almost wished you had just worked at Starbucks for the summer.

You looked back down at your desk and sighed. You still hadn’t come up with a new concept for Falcon’s wing design. Mr. Stark said he wanted to see if you would be able to revamp them, but you kept drawing blanks. Strewn around you was crumpled paper after crumpled paper of scrapped ideas, scribbled and crossed out in frustration. At one point you had gotten bored and started doodling the Avengers as they walked by your small office. You had successfully drawn Nat with Steve’s shield, Dr. Banner with a puppy, and Bucky Barnes surrounded by flowers for giggles, but not a single usable prototype for Sam’s wings.

Dejectedly, you placed the sad, crinkled pieces of paper in a waste bin. You went to reach for your Avenger doodles, but decided you’d be taking that piece home, and slid it into your jacket pocket. You made your way out of your cramped little office/ what used to be a storage closet, shuffling past the stacks of boxes on the ground and went to the first floor. As you made your way out the doors you realized you’d forgotten your umbrella at home. Fuck. The 30 feet it would take for you to get from your car from the Compound doors normally wasn’t so difficult, but the rain was going to make that process a lot more trying.

Before you could force yourself to dash to your beat-up Honda Civic, a voice spoke from behind.

“You’re not telling me you’re walking in that?”

You were startled by the sound. It’s not that the speaker sounded hostile or anything, it was just that no one had spoken to you since you started working here. You never took it personally, they were heroes too busy saving the world to notice one intern and you had brief encounters with other employees, but not for too long as there was always work to do.

“Well, it’s either get home and make it on time to watch The Princess Bride rerun or stay here for another two hours until the rain passes. I think I’ll take my couch and some ramen over being here,” you commented sarcastically.

Your head turned, expecting another one of the interns Mr. Stark had talked about bringing in soon. Instead, you were met by a very intense pair of blue eyes. Your playful smile drops at the realization that you are talking to the Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

“Oh- I didn’t realize it was you, I am so sorry Bu-, uh, Sergeant Barnes I thought you were another intern and I- uh. . .” you trailed off, flustered. By now, most people would have stopped you in your own mess of words, but the man in front of you was content to let you babble on. Mr. Stark had said he was more of an observer anyways.

“You don’t have to call me Sergeant. Bucky is fine,” he answered in a low voice accompanied by a feeble smile. Well, in all honesty, it looked more of like a grimace. It was the kind of smile you received from someone who wasn’t used to expressing joy too often.

“Well, Bucky, I won’t keep you any longer,” you apologized and went to start your gruesome walk to the car.

“I can take you home,” he blurted out. His usually stoic expression turned soft and nervous as he continued, “If that’s what you’d like. . . I’m looking for an excuse to get out more and I. . .” he paused. It was clear he was not used to speaking this long. “I’d hate for you to have to drive in the rain and. . .”

In an attempt to help with his clear struggle with speech, you interrupted as he trails off, “I would love that. Thank you.”

Yes, the first rule of being a woman is to never get into a car with a man who you don’t know. However, this rule does not apply to very attractive superheroes with luscious hair. He opened the black umbrella he was holding and positioned it above your two heads. In order to effectively avoid the rain, you snuggled right next to his flesh arm as you walked to his much closer car. He opened the door for you, as you carefully sit in the front seat of his vehicle, still fresh with the scent of new car smell. He placed himself in the driver's seat and shyly asked for your address, not making eye contact that whole time.

After he struggled with the GPS for ten minutes, you helped him type in your address. You’d think for someone with a metal arm, he’d have a better grasp on modern technology, but alas the century-old man could not seem to figure it out. Before he pulled off, he took a small handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped off his arm.

“Does it malfunction if it gets wet?” you asked. Your job was to improve Avengers tech, and Falcon’s wing had been a bust. Maybe it was time to move onto new projects.

“No, this is Wakandan technology so it’s pretty well adapted to. . . everything, really. I just like to keep it tidy for. . . well, me I guess,” he replied, wiping in between every crevice of his cold vibranium arm.

It was about a 45-minute drive to your apartment, but it seemed to fly by with Bucky driving. Well, it was actually an extra 15 minutes since he took three wrong turns, but it still felt quicker. At first, the conversation was slow. There were small exchanges of common courtesy, that lead to more interesting anecdotes, and finally to you inviting Bucky out.

“Hey, does the White Wolf have any free time this Saturday?” you teased. You thought that name was much more fitting than the Winter Soldier. He was shy and reserved, but by no means was he cold. Above all, he was an amazing listener, slowly nodding his head as you spoke, and occasionally asking questions, showing he was just as engaged as you were.

He chuckled softly, “Only if you give Sam some feathers that say dumbass on his new wings.”

You laughed with delight, “Then it’s a date!” Your ears grew a little heated as you said it. You didn’t mean to ask him out, it just kind of happened. You definitely weren’t opposed to a date, but what would he want to do with you? You had no powers, no fancy suits, and above all, you were just some temporary intern working for Stark. You expected him to decline, which would be justified, or maybe concoct an excuse not to go. Your eyes turned from his face to the dashboard.

Instead, he smiled and gently beamed, “Then it’s a date.”

He got out to open the door for you and walk you to your quaint apartment. Before he left, you stare into his tired eyes for a minute, before lightly planting a kiss on his cheek. As you closed the door to your apartment , Bucky let out a sigh of relief, as he finally got a chance to talk to the pretty girl from the third-floor office.

Hi, loves! This is my first fanfic, and I plan on making this a multiple-part series. All feedback/ constructive criticism is really appreciated and I am totally open to suggestions.

#bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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emmerrr · 3 years

Note

Prompt: cuddling throughout a storm in a hay barn 🤣 i got inspired by your other ask haha

[part 1 here]

It takes the rest of the afternoon to build the fort, by which time dark clouds have descended and given the barn an onimous look, which Ronan remedies by releasing some glowing dream lights into the air.

The fort is pretty impressive, all things considered, and Ronan doesn’t seem all too inclined to leave and head back to the house yet. Adam goes and fills a duffel bag with blankets and snacks, and even grabs Ronan’s laptop so they can watch a movie out there if they want to.

The wind is really starting to pick up as he hurries back to the barn, and just as he gets there, the heavens open. He darts inside before he gets drenched.

“It’s raining,” he tells Ronan reduntantly, as the sound of torrential rain hitting the barn roof is all too evident. “Think we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

Ronan grabs the bag. “It’s a good job you brought snacks then.”

He digs through it and pulls out the blankets, taking them through into the hay bale fort and making a little nest. Adam follows him, shivering slightly thanks to the cold rain settling on his clothes. Ronan notices, because Ronan always notices, and he wraps one of the blankets around Adam, rubbing his arms.

“Can’t have you catching a cold.”

“I won’t catch a cold,” Adam says. He feels tired all of a sudden, the day catching up with him, and Ronan’s care making him feel safe or something. He wants to lie down. “You can’t catch one either.” He sits down on the blanket nest and pulls Ronan down with him.

It looks quite romantic really, with the blankets and the lights, and the howling wind and thrashing rain outside makes it seem a little bit like they’re the only two people left in the world. Adam idly thinks that if that were the case, then he’s happy with his company.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” Ronan says, squinting suspiciously.

“Because I just think you’re neat,” Adam says, and he pokes Ronan in the cheek. “Now pass me the Oreos, I’m starving.”

Once they’ve eaten their fill of Pringles and cookies, the dinner of champions, Adam can’t stop yawning, and even Ronan is starting to look a little drowsy. The storm is still raging outside, and there’s no telling when it might calm down enough to let them get back to the farmhouse.

By now, they’re lying down, huddled close for warmth, and also just because it’s nice and they love each other a whole bunch. They face each other, the blanket they share cocooning them together nicely. One of the dream lights hovers nearby, casting shadowy shapes across Ronan’s face that Adam traces lightly with his fingertips.

“We shoulda gone back in earlier,” Ronan says after a while, his voice a little gruff.

Adam shakes his head. “It’s fine. It’s kinda nice out here, in a creepy sort of way.”

Ronan snorts a laugh. “Creepy?”

“I mean, it’s dark and stormy and we’re in a barn, it’s a little creepy. But I’m with you, so,” Adam shrugs, “it evens out.”

Ronan grins, kisses Adam twice. “So what do you think of my fort then?”

“I think it’s a great fort,” Adam drawls. “The best fort I’ve ever been in.”

“I feel that you’re being sarcastic,” Ronan says, “but I’ll take it.”

“You do that,” Adam smiles, and he closes his eyes.

It goes quiet for a while, then Ronan kisses Adam’s forehead. “Adam?”

“Hm?”

“We can go back to the house now if you want. Make a run for it.”

“That’s okay,” Adam says through a yawn. “I’m good here, if you are.” He snuggles closer and feels Ronan’s arm tighten around him reflexively. The weight is comforting and familiar.

“I’m good too.”

#the raven cycle #pynch #tumblr prompts #trc #anon #emma answers

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

The Winter Ghost - Part 5

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/n

Warning: language, PTSD, anxiety, violence, fluff.

W/c: 3.5K ish

A/n : oooh getting serious. Im having so much fun writing this you guys! Shout out to @cutie1365 for all her support! Go read her fic A Kid From Queens, but dont say I didnt warn you. Its addicting!

Everything happened really fast after that day in the common room with Wanda. Shuri worked tirelessly in the lab trying to develop a softer approach to bringing back your memories. She believed if she could restore them fully, we would have the last piece of the puzzle.

Becoming the perfect war machine seemed like the most obvious use for the serum, but Steve reminded you Hydra always had something up their sleeve.

You really enjoyed living in Wakanda. Most days were spent in the gym training. Trying to harness the team's abilities was not so enjoyable. You worked with Wanda most. It helped that you were only 4 years older than her. She was younger than most of the team and had a dark past that seemed to mirror yours.

Most of your nights consisted of you, Wanda and Nat settling into the couch and cheesy eighties movies on the plasma TV. Bucky would often come out of his room and sit with you.

You really enjoyed Bucky's energy. Something about him just drew you to him. Maybe it was his smile, or the way he smelled like mint and nicotine, or that he read the newspaper and drank black coffee in the mornings. You weren't sure. One thing was for certain, the more time you spent together, the harder it became to leave him. Bucky would tell you about his past and how he used to have to bail little 'Stevie' out of bar fights and ally brawls every other day. He made you laugh like no one really did. When he told you about his time with Hydra and how they would control his mind you would rake your fingers through his hair and whisper to him he wasn't alone anymore.

As the days melted into weeks, the horrific nightmares began to grow legs. It was one of the many side effects from Shuri’s digging. Some days it felt like Hydra knew you would try to remember and this was their fail-safe. Every time you began to drift off you'd see Tommys pale face, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. You swear, right before he stumbled off the edge of the bridge you saw him say something. You could never remember when you woke, nor could you recall any other detail other than Tommy. It felt wrong. You felt wrong. Like he wasn't yours to grieve.

One particular bad night, you remember waking up screaming. Your whole body felt like it was on fire as your tears seared down your cheeks. The only thing that grounded you after that was the small knock that echoed from the other side of your door.

“Hey, doll. Let me in?” His voice was soft and smooth and the only thing that seemed to bring you back to the dimly lit bedroom. You stared at the ceiling for a solid minute before slowly rising and crossing the room. Gently, you opened the door just a crack and looked up. There stood a sleepy-eyed Bucky. He sported a baggy pair of grey sweats and an old beat up tank, his arms on full display. In normal circumstances, you believed that that was enough to knock you out of any state. You wondered if Bucky knew the effect he had on people. Or worse, if he knew the effect he had on you.

“Can't sleep, keep me company?” He spoke, huskily. You could tell he had just woken up. Sleep still clouded his eyes, and the yawn he tried to stifle gave him away. You appreciate what he was trying to do, so instead of calling the man out, you opened the door, and welcomed the Super Soldier in.

You talked for hours that night. He didn't ask about your nightmare, which you appreciated. You had recited the images to Shuri about thirty times in the past week. It was the only memory that seemed to come back. It replayed over and over on a continuous loop through your mind. This moment with Bucky was a welcomed break.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” You finally spoke. Bucky and you had found your way onto your bed at some point. His right arm draped around your shoulder, as you leaned on his chest. He cracked his neck to look down at you.

“Of course.” He offered, shifting onto his side so he could really look at you.

“Does it ever stop? I’m so exhausted, all I want to do is sleep but I- I'm so scared. I don’t want to see it again… What if it never-” Your voice broke off, shutting your eyes tight to stop a tear from escaping.

“Hey, hey. You're not alone anymore. Remember? I went through it and came out the other side. And look how well adjusted I am.” Bucky smirked, sarcasm laced his last remark. You couldn't help but smile at that. You didn't know if anyone but you and Steve really knew how funny he was. Maybe he liked it that way. Maybe he was only that way with you? You knew it had been awhile since Bucky had really been this way around others. It warmed your heart how quickly the two of you got along.

“Listen to me, doll.” He started, seriously, lowering his stare to meet yours.

“I’ll be here. Whenever you need me. I know what it's like, to feel out of control. To feel like a prisoner in your own body. To answer your question, yeah I think it gets better. I mean,” He paused then, looking you up and down in a way that made you blush. He started again, words laced with that old Brooklyn charm the ladies used to love. Granted, that worked back in 1940 - something and he had been out of the game for quite a while.

“I’m in bed with a smart, complicated, frankly beautiful dame. I’d say it gets better, wouldn't you?” He gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch sent shivers down your spine. Bucky's stormy eyes bore into yours making your breath hitch in your throat. There was a moment, so brief that when you recanted the memory you weren't sure it really happened. But you thought maybe for just a second he wanted to-

“Up and at it, Y/n! Training starts at 0700!” Caps voice droned through your bedroom door suddenly, knocking you out of your thoughts and back to the bed you resided on. Your hand reached out for Bucky, who since that night spent most beside you. He would stay with you until you fell asleep and more often than not, when you woke, he’d be beside you, fast asleep. His side of the bed was cold, however. He had been up for a while.

You looked at your phone on the nightstand. 6:15 am it read. You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face and slinking out of bed. Pain screamed from your muscles as you opened the bathroom door. Carefully, you started the shower, steam quickly filled the room and calmed your aching bones. You stepped in and autobly signed.

Fifteen minutes later you met the rest of the team in the kitchen. You couldn't help but notice Bucky wasn't in attendance. Everyone looked like they had been awake for hours while your wet hair was pulled up in a messy knot on top of your head. Nat was pouring herself a cup of coffee when she noticed you come in. She smirked, instantly grabbing another mug and gesturing to the pot in her hands. You nodded quickly. ‘Coffee fixed most everything’. That's what Your Dad used to tell you before he left for work and you lived by that.

“Look who's finally up…” Cap announced. You had no idea how he was so chipper in the mornings. Even the sound of his booming voice made you cringe. The man must have coffee running through his veins. Maybe that should be Hydra’s next serum idea…

“I have risen. Just for you, Rogers.” You muttered sarcastically, taking the mug of coffee from Nat. You smiled and mouthed thank you, taking a big swig. Ugh, you grimaced, swallowing the brown substance much to your dismay. You didn't know what this brown water was but it definitely wasn't coffee.

Wanda laughed at your disgusted face, "It's decaf, Y/n '' she rolled her eyes, "Cap thinks decaf is better for the team. That coffee will mess with our 'performance' or whatever." She shrugged. What's even the point? You thought.

“Excuse me young lady.” Cap began, scolding Wanda like she was his teenager. Wanda smirked, turning towards his voice.

“Young lady?” Nat mocked her friend, nudging him out of the way as she reached for the piece of toast she had put in the toaster. She took a bite and over chews laughed, “You're really aging yourself, Cap.” She finished, hoisting herself up onto the kitchen island beside you.

You really liked Natasha. You thought she must have been the most beautiful person you'd ever met. Her red hair always curled around her soft features perfectly. You honestly didn't know how a human could look that perfect and be so deadly. Over the past few weeks, Nat had taught you a lot. You mostly trained with Captain Rogers and Wanda, but occasionally Nat would step in. She was small in stature, but she helped you learn how to use that to your advantage.

“What’cha say we go get some real coffee, babe?” Nat nudged you with a small smile. You looked up at her with a wide eye gaze. She truly was a hero.

“God, yes please.” You beamed as she jumped off the island.

“If you're skipping out on training then count me in! I” Wanda chimed. Rogers looked frustrated as the three of you started towards the door.

“Nat, you heard what Shuri said. Y/n cannot leave the premises until we know what she's fully capable of. She’s dangerous.” Cap stated firmly, but unmoved from the kitchen. You looked at the floor uncomfortably. He was right. You were a ticking time bomb. You all knew it. Shuri explained with the presence of the nightmares it was only a matter of time before something snapped. And no one really knew how that would look when it happened. For the most part, everyone treated you like a normal person. An honorary member of the team. But Rogers often reminded you that you were anything but. Just an experiment and a means to an end.

"Comeon' y/n. I know a place we can get some real coffee." Nat spoke, louder than Cap. Venom seeped from her words as she glared at the Captain. She shook her head disapprovingly. Wanda took your hand, pulling you gently out of the kitchen. When you touched you felt your skin sizzle, absorbing the power that surged through her body. You made a conscious effort to steady your breathing and push her power to the back of your mind. As you left you heard Natasha’s booming voice coming from behind you but decided to ignore it, as the two of you headed for the garage.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Steve?” Nat snapped at him. Steve opened his mouth and closed it trying to find the right words. “She’s a person, you ass! You can't keep treating her like some unhinged science experiment. She’s just a person. Just like me. Just like Bucky.”

“She’s nothing like Bucky!” He thundered. Nat took a step back, snaking her head disapprovingly. “I can’t keep thinking, what if we had it wrong. I mean, she can’t remember anything. What if her memories come back and she's not really on our side. I don't think we thought this through, Nat.” He huffed, running his hands over his face in frustration.

“I trust her, Steve. Bucky trusts her.” She started, taking a few steps closer to him. He shook his head in annoyance and scoffed.

“Bucky thinks the girl’s a doll. He’s totally smitten, that doesn't count. I think the guy would trust anything she said at this point-”

“Do you trust me?” Nat snapped, a brow arched, hands on her hips. Stever huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know I do, but-” He began.

“Then it's settled. You gotta’ let the girl out. She's been locked up here for weeks. I promise, I’ll keep her safe. Besides, I’m getting pretty tired of her stealing my clothes. Coffee, and shopping and then we’ll be back, yeah?” Nat offered, voice dripping with sweetness. She knew she had won this battle. She always did.

“Two hours, Romanoff. That's all you get.” Steve grumbled. Nat smirked, rolling her eyes and spinning on her heel to meet you and Wanda in the garage.

“See ya later, Grandpa. Don't wait up.” She offered over her shoulder. Steve only shook his head and chuckled, hoping desperately he hadn't made a huge mistake.

Nat strutted victoriously out of the kitchen, and almost ran right into Bucky's large frame. She stumbled back, regaining her balance quickly. Bucky raised one brow curiously.

“Where ya’ going in such a hurry?” He asked, watching her carefully.

“I’m taking your girl out for a much needed shopping trip. Anything particular you'd like to see her in?” She quipped, sarcastically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Bucky choked on a cough, clearing his throat and trying to turn it into a laugh. He failed, of course.

“I- ah, I don't know what- uh, what?” He finally got out. Nat smirkled, and patted him on his stiff chest. It was literally too easy. The man was such a ball of stress. Nat thought it was honestly cute. She’s never seen Bucky like this before. Nervous and blushing. She thought you were really good for him. Maybe you’ll finally take that stick out of his ass. She thought with a smirk.

“Have a nice day, Sergeant.” She cooed, pushing past his rigid body leaving Bucky in shock.

“You ready, babies?” Nat grinned, putting the key in the Jeep’s ignition. You sat in the back seat while Wanda sat in the passenger, both nodding vigorously.

“For the love of coffee!” You shouted, pointing forward. Both women laughed and with that you took off.

……………………...

You practically skipped through the Wakanda market. Beautiful earthy colours melted into the scenery practically taking your breath away. Wanda and Nat had stopped at a small coffee shop, but you wandered around, looking at the beautiful handmade clothing. The smoky smell of something cooking from a nearby street grill filled your senses. It was complex, sweet and spicy and sour all at once. It made your mouth water. Foreign and delicious. You followed the smell to a small hutch where people gathered around, eating and laughing.

“Beautiful isn't it? How food brings us all together.” A man spoke beside you. You recognized him as T’Challa, Shuri’s older brother and also the man who is letting you and your new friends stay in Wakanda. You had only really met him in passing, but never really spoke. Bucky always describes him as a kind, gracious friend. You smiled up at him.

“It is… Really beautiful.” You repeated.

“How are you liking Wakanda, Y/n?” He asked. His voice was deep and rich. Almost melodic. Just by speaking he had commanded the attention of the people around you. The new eyes on the two of you made you feel uneasy and small, but you took a deep breath and relaxed yourself.

“It's so gorgeous here. Thank you for having me, T’Challa.” You spoke his name and it made him smile. You froze unsure if that was the right thinking to call him. He was the King, sort of, but Bucky had always referred to him by his given name.

“Breath, my friend. You have nothing to fear here. You are with good people. Your friend Bucky speaks very highly of you. And any friend of the Sergeants is a friend of mine.” He voiced, placing a warm hand on your shoulder as you relaxed. From behind him you could see Nat and Wanda walking towards you. Wanda waved chaotically making you smile.

An old beat-up SUV made a loud popping noise as it pulled up somewhere behind you. The noise made you shudder. The familiar sound of gunshots rang through your ears as you grabbed your head, trying to make the noise stop. You looked to T’Challa who seemed only concerned, reaching out a hand to steady you.

“Is everything okay, Y/n?” He spoke, trying to gage what was wrong by your actions. The loud deady blows echoed through your head, unrelenting as a scream erupted through the crowd. You weren't sure if you had made the noise of if it was someone else. Everything seemed to fade away and your vision became blurry.

“Y/n, Y/n! Can you hear me?!” You heard a woman yell over the crowd. You tried to focus on her voice, but it was too late. Everything suddenly went black and you felt your body go numb.

You woke up in the dark cement room that plagued your nightmares. A man's eerie voice echoed off the walls.

“Еще раз!” Again! He shouted. Usually when you relieved these memories you didn't know what the man was saying. But for some reason, this time your brain was translating for you. You didn’t question it as you looked around the room. You felt your body scream as an excruciating electric shock ripped through you. Tears burned down your face as you begged incoherently for it to stop. As fast as it came on, the shock stopped, and you could breathe again.

“Ты сама во всем виновата, дитя мое.” You brought this on yourself, my child. The man cooed, wiping a bead of sweat that ran down your forehead. You winced at his touch, the feeling of him on you making you nauseous.

“Если бы ты только сделал то, о чем тебя просили. Если бы вы только слушали. Может быть, все было бы по-другому, хотя я сомневаюсь в этом.” If only you had done what you were asked. If only you have listened. Maybe things would be different, though, I doubt it. He spat, chuckling as he motioned for the other outside of view to start again.

“Please, don’t do this, Zemo. Обещаю. Возьми мою память. Заставь меня забыть, только не делай этого.” I promise. Take my memory. Make me forget, just don't do this. You begged. You tried to move your arms but they were secured down. The man only laughed at your feeble attempt, building a rage inside of you.

“Oh, don't you worry, мой ребенок. All in due time. When I’m done with you, you won't remember your own name.” He grinned a crooked smile as the machine you laid in whirled on again, sending a volt of electricity through your body. You clenched your teeth and stifled another scream.

Your eyes burst open, scolded by the sun and the tears that now streamed down your face. Gasping for air you tried to sit up, but your body shrieked with pain. On your left Nat sat beside you, Wanda was on your right holding a phone to her ear yelling something you couldn't quite make out. Your breath slowly began to return and the sunspots in your vision cleared. You looked around, the market was now almost empty but the small street grill was now billowing with smoke and flame. Nat helped you up, body still aching. You looked around, horrified by the mess that was once the lively market.

“Are you okay, Y/n” Nat started, her hands on either side of your arms. You blinked at her, terrified.

“What happened?” You asked, horrified to actually know the answer. She gave you a nervous look and tucked a loose hair behind her ear.

“It wasn't your fault, Y/n. No one was hurt, everyone got out. It’s going to be okay.”

“It most certainly is not going to be okay!” Captain Rogers' voice boomed from behind the three of you. Wanda spun around startled, while you just hung your head low. Whatever lashing he was going to give you, you deserved. It couldn't be any worse than what Zemo had done… You paused, eyes a gape.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, alerting the others. Steve looked at her angrily, impatient for your next words.

“I remember something… I think- I think I remember who did this to me.” You choked out, eyes glassy as you remembered for the first time the man who made you a monster.

................................

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope all have a great weekend! As always, feel free to leave me feedback! My inbox is always open!

@projectcampbell

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #buckybarnes #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #shuri x reader #captain america #steve x reader #steve rogers #bucky barns imagine

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Ground Rules (for Love and War) - Pt.1

Of War and Peace

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3860

Type: Two-shot, reader insert

Summary: Steve Rogers always has been a bit of a mystery – always polite, with a little bit of foot-in-mouth syndrome, unbelievingly kind and definitely good-looking – but a mystery anyway. He treated you differently from his friends. Why?

You would never expect the ongoing prank war between Bucky and Sam to shed light on the matter.Of course, Tony Stark is also to blame. Whenever he isn’t? You are his assistant – you would know.

Warnings: silly pranks, blackout, attempt at humour, swearing… fluff and way too shy Steve

A/N: Loosely based on a request from AO3 from Call_Me_Mrs_Rogers: awkward flirtatious Steve and Tony’s-Assistant!Reader, Sam-Bucky prank war and a power-cut. Whole request in the notes under the first chapter.

Sam Wilson was a brave man, you thought.

An undoubtedly handsome, considerably capable, loyal to a fault, but first of all, an incredibly brave man.

That was the only logical explanation of him declaring a prank war to James Buchannan Barnes; and it started by the Falcon himself reminding everyone who followed his Twitter that Bucky’s middle name was indeed Buchannan and he loved to be called that.

The truth was that calling Bucky that name was bordering with dangerous. Pulling out a stunt like Sam had, now that was like singing up his own death sentence.

“Wilsoooon!” Bucky howled through the corridors and you jumped in your seat before smirking into your second cup of coffee that day.

You wondered what Sam had done this time. Ever since the first Twitter event, both Sam and Bucky were stepping up their game.

Social media pranks. Sugar-salt switching. Soaped door handles. Hair dye in shampoo. Itching powder. Glue on a mug. You name it.

They were like infants. Worse even. As if the Tower needed more men-children in it. As if Tony wasn’t enough.

Now, Tony Stark was a brilliant man; distracted, sarcastic, a maniacal scientist and a hero, whom you were honoured to call your boss. Except Pepper Potts was the one in charge, pulling the strings and hiring you after she had become the CEO of Stark Industries, because she could no longer be his assistant.

Because Tony Stark was a genius of a man-child who needed constant supervision. He needed a girl Friday and F.R.I.D.A.Y. sometimes wasn’t enough. Enter you. A glorious secretary with an engineering degree and enough patience to deal with him. Hand-picked by Virginia Potts herself, sometimes being chosen to go to a meeting with her to represent Tony’s intentions rather than him, since you were less likely to piss people off, being able to keep cockiness in check.

But damn, weren’t you proud.

Your train of thought was cut short as the former Winter Soldier strode into the communal kitchen with a stormy look on his face and sneezed on its way; four times. Loudly.

Your face twisted in sympathy.

“Haven’t seen him,” you answered before Bucky could collect himself enough to ask.

Another wall-shaking sneeze was his response.

Now that one was just cruel; as far as you knew, supersoldiers couldn’t get sick. So it was just the sneezing itself, whatever it was caused by. Still, you guessed it must have been horrible to go through that after so many years of blissful germ-freedom. Honestly, if you sneezed like after seven decades, you’d lose your shit. Why did it feel like your lungs were about to leave your body through your nose at the mere thought of it? Scary shit, alright.

Bucky growled and stalked away. Not before he nodded in thanks.

He left the room with another sneeze.

“Bless you,” you muttered under your breath and eyed your tablet.

Tony was asleep as he had stayed awake until two a.m. working on the newest upgrade for the security of the Tower, so technically, you had time to enjoy your coffee in relative peace.

Naturally, peace was a short supply in the Tower, the home to the Avengers.

When Pepper had first offered you to simply move in since you spent the most of your time there, you had been reluctant. It had only been a week in and while you met some of the team members, finding out they were far less intimidating than they presented themselves to the press, it sounded… overwhelming to stay there 24/7. However, you had been quickly persuaded after you nearly passed out, because your sleep schedule was a mess, consisting of either passing out on the couch in the Tower or making it home only to fall asleep before your head hit the pillow, and being woken up by an urgent call from the Ironman himself two hours later.

Living in the Tower had its downsides and its upsides.

Downside was that it rarely got quiet and it was the perfect target for any supervillain as it had all of the Earth’s mightiest heroes in one place. Constant supervision from an artificial intelligence was as reassuring as concerning.

As for the upsides… you hadn’t expected to actually… befriend the Avengers. You certainly wouldn’t guess that once Natasha Romanoff warmed up to you, she was a great friend, a female element alongside Pepper that the Tower and the team sorely needed. The times you bonded over the aforementioned men-children were one of the best in your life.

Clint was a lot of fun, though you had soon adopted the habit of making a pot of coffee just for him, since you were usually the one to get up from bed before him and talking to him pre-coffee was the risk equivalent to touching Sam’s snacks.

Bruce… kept for himself a lot. But when he came out of his shell, either liberated by alcohol or when discussing science with Tony, he would radiate an aura anyone would be happy to bask in.

Sam was the ray of sunshine, gentle with a lot of fun stacked behind the chocolate eyes of his, but once he got into the same room and Bucky… oh boy.

The silently charming grumpy supersoldier added to the team in a way you wouldn’t see coming – perfectly. Except that he and Sam were always in each other’s hair. Always bickering; one that sometimes resulted in a war. Occasionally funny; other times utterly annoying. Rright now, you felt like it was something in between.

“Good morning,” sounded pleasantly from the door, where the last member of the peculiar household stood, seemingly hesitant.

Oh. Steve Rogers. That was right. Your biggest guilty pleasure. That man was a pure eye-candy, a body perfected by the serum only to protect the great man hiding in it. You didn’t have many opportunities to truly know him; but whenever you saw him, he had an air around him, greatness and kindness, yet somehow fogged by modesty.

At times, he appeared sheepish almost, but always polite. To you anyway. His friends were a different story; it saddened you occasionally, that he didn’t consider you a friend, not really giving you a chance, treating you differently. You suspected it was because you weren’t a fighter; while assisting Tony nearly 24/7, it was obvious that the billionaire tried his best to keep you away from the danger zone as much as possible.

The arms-long distance Steve Rogers kept you at was causing you a heart-ache at times, yet you had a feeling he didn’t have any particular dislike for you; only that he treated you differently. Always polite. Always a pleasant interaction.

You couldn’t help but smile at him, his usual running outfit and tousled hair giving away he was coming back from his everyday morning routine of what was probably like thirty miles or something.

“Good morning, Steve. Had a nice run?”

Looking himself up, slightly guiltily, he scratched the back of his neck. It occurred to you that he was embarrassed at not being the most cleaned-up version of himself in front of you – a woman –, which you found adorable. His forties-man was showing.

“Yeah. Yes. Thank you. Did you… sleep well?” he queried, shifting by the door.

“Yes, actually… are you going to stand there all day?” you teased him lightly and the corners of his lips twitched as his gaze fell to the floor, his shoulder finally bouncing off the door-frame.

“I just didn’t want to disturb your moment of peace…”

Your chest felt warmer at such admission. What a sweet thought.

“That is very kind of you,” you praised him as he gestured to the coffee pot, checking with you if it was for everyone’s use. You nodded and chuckled at the tinniest flaw in his thoughtfulness. “Except you were beaten about a minute and half by a much grumpier and louder supersoldier.”

Steve groaned and leaned onto the counter. “Let me guess: Sam proceeded with another prank.”

You made a finger gun at him, grinning. “Exactly. I don’t know how he did it, but I don’t think I ever heard a person sneeze that loud. And that often. Poor Bucky.”

“Bucky brought this upon himself. He deserves it,” Steve grumbled, sipping at the coffee, his eyelids sliding shut blissfully. You were pretty sure that something resembling a moan resonated in his chest, which… didn’t do a thing to you. Didn’t bring thoughts that were not about caffeinated beverages, but something slightly dirtier. Nope. Nothing. Like… at all.

You stood up from you stool and gathered your stuff, ignoring the way your heart suddenly sped up.

“Well, I just hope we can all keep sane before this particular battle of their war is over,” you hummed, every word honest and hopeful. “These two might bring the Tower down. As if Tony wasn’t enough…”

“Very true. I’ll try and keep an eye on them… try,” he emphasized when your nose scrunched with a bit of doubt and you made a so-so motion with your free hand.

“Bold move. I hope you don’t get caught in the middle. Though I’m sure you could pull the blue-hair look unlike Bucky…”

Why did I just say that?

Smiling softly into his cup despite his eyes going wide in horror, he took a deep breath and looked you straight in the eye. The brightness of his irises had your breath caught in your chest.

“So am I. You… uhm, you look beautiful today, by the way,” he complimented you sweetly, his gaze swiftly glancing over your outfit and casual hairstyle. And for a good reason; having to assist Pepper on a meeting today, you had been chosen to wear a pink ladies suit and a white shirt. You had expected to look like a ridiculous copy of cotton candy – you had not anticipated to… actually look presentable. Feminine even. You.

Your cheeks matched the colours of your jacket at the praise; Steve’s shoulders straightened.

“I meant… not that you usually don’t. I was… uhm, I like the… the look on you. The one you have today,” he stumbled over his words and suddenly your whole body felt warm, pleasantly and yet embarrassingly.

“Thank… thank you. Have a nice day, Steve,” you nearly squeaked, threw a quick smile over your shoulder and rushed from the kitchen.

Oh yeah.

Steve… he would often utter a compliment, like a proper gentleman he was, treating women right. Except you never heard him say such thing to Natasha, who was far easier on the eyes. Or to Pepper. He would open the door for you, reached the top shelves when you needed it, always offering a helping hand, shy and gentle smiles, so… diverse to how he was when with the Avengers.

No, Steve Rogers didn’t treat you like his friend.

And god knew that the day you figured out if that was a good thing or a bad thing would be the day of solving the biggest enigma of the new millennium.

Unknown to you, Steve melted into the counter, putting down his cup of coffee and groaned at his utter inability to flirt.

“I swear, man, before you manage to give her a normal compliment without putting your foot in your mouth, someone else will snatch her,” Sam commented, having just sneaked into the kitchen to grab a three protein bars, cautiously scanning his surroundings.

Steve shot him a glare. “Thank you, Sam, you’re being very helpful. Has Bucky found you yet?”

“Shh! Don’t say his name! Do that two more times and he will app-“

“Wilson! You- ACHOO- fhakhin’ bird- ACHOOO-brain!” Bucky’s voice thundered through the whole floor and Steve smirked with satisfaction.

Sam’s body turned to stone, his eyes horrified and yet endlessly amused.

“Sorry, Cap, gotta go! But for God’s sake, just ask her out before we all go insane here…”

“Says the guy who cursed a supersoldier with sniffles!” Steve called after the disappearing figure exasperatedly, only to hear Sam’s laughter in the distance.

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“Silly circuit! What’s wrong with you? Do you have no decency? Just work…” you mumbled under your breath, eyes glued to the interface from a way too short distance, but you didn’t care for your health at this point. You just wanted to fix this.

“Is it talking back?” a hesitant and yet teasing voice asked, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Your head snapped up in surprise.

“Steve. Hey,” you welcomed him briefly, shocked at the vision of the supersoldier in the workshop. “What brings you to our dungeon?”

“Coffee break,” he wiggled two coffee cups in his hands pointedly and beckoned towards the clock that… read ten in the evening. Oh. You didn’t realize you had been down here for so long. “Something tells me you didn’t have one in a while. Am I… overstepping?”

Your cheeks flushed similarly to his as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, reluctant to cross the distance between you.

Coffee honestly sounded heavenly now. And with delivery and perhaps some company? Not bad, not bad at all…

“Oh. No! No, that’s just… I’m surprised,” you admitted. “I mean, you’re always nice to me, of course, but… eh, sorry, my people skills are lacking at this time of day. Remind me how to tell-- gosh, I can’t even word, I mean speak-- you really do have a point about that coffee break.”

You chuckled, a palm over your forehead, fighting the urge to run it down your face in embarrassment at you babbling.

Steve, ever the gentleman, tried to hush his laughter at least partly, the sound coming out subtle and cute. He held out one of the cups for you and you instantly sipped at it reverently with your eyelids fluttering close, barely registering his soft: “Well, here you go.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

“You’re welcome. What are you working on?”

Surprised once more by his query, you took another vehement sip of coffee before placing the cup in safe distance and answering.

“Eh, just some glitch in Natasha’s Bites. I think she fried it, using the electromotive units too much during the last mission and now the interface is misbehaving and we would rather avoid her accidently electrocuting people, god forbid, herself.”

“…that we would,” Steve agreed, blinking at you, seemingly a bit dumbstruck, but a twinkle of mischief reflected in his irises. “Looks like the coffee is kicking in pretty quick. You have no problem with wording now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle self-depreciatingly. He wasn’t wrong.

What threw you off balance was that he was… having a conversation with you, a playful one, so atypical of him – at least as far as it was concerning you – and… it felt truly nice. It did things to your stomach, a pleasant fluttery sensation and you quickly downed the rest of your cup, wondering if it was the shot of caffeine. You were about 97% sure that it wasn’t the cause.

“Har, har, Captain Rogers. I’ll have you know that it’s only my human skills that gets progressively pathetic with my caffeine levels running low, not my ability to say big words. Anyway, what’s got into you tonight? There’s something different about you… not that I’m complaining!”

Once more, his reaction took you aback. He flashed you a quick smile before lowering his gaze, holding up both of his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Guilty as charged. Sam might have found me making coffee for two and decided to give me a pep talk. He told me, and I quote, to suck it up and just spit it out. … And then made me take a sip from Thor’s flask.”

Your heart started beating its way out of your chest, a mixture of panic and excitement at his admission.

“Sounds like he’s a good friend then. Is there something on your mind? That you need to… spit out?”

“Yeah,” he confessed, peeking at your from under his rich eyelashes, shy but determined gaze settling on you as he leant onto the counter behind him. “I feel like… things I want to say tend to come out wrong. I… I’d like to know you better. If that would be alright with you.”

You felt endlessly grateful that moment, that the words ‘my jaw went slack’ were only a figure of speech, because otherwise you would have looked very comical and very much stupid. Still, your lips parted, the flutter in your stomach growing in intensity.

“…oh,” you breathed out intelligently, only to realize he had actually asked a question. Kinda. And he was waiting for you to answer. “Uhm… yes. Yes, I’d love to do the same. I… I admit I thought that maybe you just weren’t interested in further interaction, because I’m not on the team-“

“No! That’s not it at all, I swear,” he rushed to reassure you, sending a tiny pleased smile at your approval. “It’s just… like I said. I’m always tripping over myself around you, putting my foot in my mouth and- and things I want to say sound less awkward in my head.”

Tripping over himself around me? That sounded… nope, that couldn’t be it. Right? Except your heart was now hammering against your ribcage in excitement at the possibility, turning more real every second he was looking at you and dammit, do not give into the silly hope that Steve Rogers might actually like like you.

“Steve, you’re literally the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I like to think about you as sweet, not awkward.” Now wow, really, sweet? That was way too much, dummy. Except he smiled shyly, his eyes lightening up at the compliment and your fingertips tingled at the sweet display of delight. He relaxed further, settling more comfortably against the counter. “Now, what do you want to know?”

“Anything,” he shrugged, the corners of his lips still up in invitation, an encouragement to share with him anything you were willing to.

“Well, you clearly already know how I take my coffee…”

Hint of darker pink coloured his cheeks, much to your glee.

“How did you end up working for Tony?”

“First of all, we all know I’m working for Pepper…”

He laughed at that, but listened patiently after, watching you work as you told him about your mum always being away on business trips and your father taking you to his workshop to keep your child’s mind occupied, teaching you stuff that was way too complicated for a little girl, but fascinating at the same time, showing you direction when you turned the age of making the big career decisions.

“Applying for this insane position wasn’t a spur of the moment. Pepper sent out e-mails to candidates she picked – I didn’t even know about the position opening, she simply used some of Tony’s searching tools and wrote people of whom she thought might handle the job. It was a little scary, to be honest. First, I thought there was no way for me to sign up for that; it would mean basically no personal life and I never wanted to be like my mum, never home…. But then it occurred to me how proud she would be of me, much like dad is and… I thought that it doesn’t have to be forever, you know. I can work here now and switch to something else when I decide to be a mum. Of course, I can see now, unlike when I was a kid and teenager, that she tried, but… I realized lots of that stuff only after she died and it’s just… I’m sorry she wasn’t there and that I didn’t try harder to appreciate her.”

You couldn’t fathom when you started pouring your heart to him or when your eyes started burning, but suddenly his hand was there, gently squeezing yours, his wide shoulders as if shielding you from the rest of the world simply by standing by your side and your eyes closed of their own account, your body strangely comfortable in Steve’s huge presence.

“I’m sure she knew,” he whispered warmly.

You smiled at him through the tears you had failed to keep at bay. “Sorry. Now whose mouth is loose. I bet you didn’t expect me oversharing when you said you wanted to know me better.”

“No, I didn’t,” he confirmed, observing your face with a mixture of laughter at your joke and compassion at your outburst. “I appreciate that you’re willing to share something so big with me. Thank you.”

“It’s that eyes of yours. They made me spill my guts.”

He didn’t point out that your focus was on the device on the table and not his eyes, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket instead. He gave it to you, never letting go of your other hand.

“Oh wow,” you only commented, no more words needed. Who the hell still carried-

Steve groaned silently. “Please don’t make any old man jokes.”

“I was about to compliment your chivalry.”

“Sure you were,” he grumbled, but his mouth was curled up in a grin, so you assumed he wasn’t too offended by your reaction.

Staring at the dazzling display of perfect teeth, you missed another person coming in; until their shocked voice snapped you from your trance.

“Whoa, what’s happening?” Bucky blurted out, bewildered at the scene in front of him.

You jumped away from Steve as if you got burned, your hand slipping from his. To be fair, so did he.

When had you got to standing in such intimate proximity anyway? Christ, something must have got into the air vents. You’d blame the Barnes-Wilson war for that… not that you complained. Having Steve standing so close, offering comfort without a single word of complaint after listening to you pouring your heart to him… you weren’t entirely joking when saying you were about to commend his chivalry.

Steve cleared his throat, his voice hoarse as if he had been the one crying. “Bucky? What can I do for you?”

Bucky frowned first at his best friend and then at you, his gaze flickering between the two of you before settling on you, a worried wrinkle appearing on his forehead.

“You alright, dollface? Do I need to punch Captain Foot-in-the-Mouth in his face?” he beckoned his chin towards Steve and you instantly shook your head, still too caught off guard to find your voice.

“Buck, please…”

“It’s a relevant question, Steve. And I’d do it if she asked.”

A surprised chuckle escaped your lips and you offered Bucky a grateful smile, only to grin up at Steve before wiping the rest of your tears.

“You seem to have very supportive friends, Steve,” you remarked.

“You have no idea. What did you need?”

“Nothing from you, punk,” Bucky smirked and shifted his attention fully to you. “FRIDAY told me you needed me in here? Something about an upgrade for my arm? Which I don’t need-”

“… which is why I’m not working on such thing,” you said, baffled. Should you be working on Bucky’s arm?

The former Winter Soldier had an utter confusion written all over his face.

“Huh? Then why-?”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

The workshop was suddenly swallowed by darkness, stunning him into silence.

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Part 2 ༻༺༻༺༻༺༻❁༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart @cxptain @smilexcaptainx

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Original request: Basically, the reader is Tony's assistant and she's in and around the tower 24/7. Steve really likes her and in the rare times that she's able to get away from her work, she really likes him. They're always flirting with each other in the slightly awkward old-man way Steve has but they never actually get together. Bucky and Sam decide to get creative and start a prank war. The only problem is that they cause a power-cut and because of Tony's high-tech stuff, Y/N, Steve and Bucky are trapped in a room together with a bit of food, a board game (monopoly?) and some candles. Maybe Y/N just finished training and was in her small, tight outfits and Steve couldn't keep his eyes off her. Could the whole thing be full of sexual innuendos but NO SMUT PLEASE! Anyway, Bucky does something (maybe he sticks his foot out and Y/N trips over it into Steve's arms? Idk, I'm not good at this...) and they end up kissing or whatever?

Sorry for not completely following the script requested, I focused more on what my keyboard dictated O:-) I did say I was terrible with given scenarios. Hopefully you’ll enjoy at least a bit anyway. I can’t see myself filling any other request in my life, but I did have fun with this ;)

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Thank you for reading!

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic #steve rogers x you #captain america x you #mcu #avengers #prank war #ground rules for love and war #anika ann

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Accident Forgiveness - part one - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: All you want is to enjoy your latte. Is it your fault you happen to live in a building owned by a super hero? In which the reader continually gets caught up in the Avengers’ fights and it starts to get old. Especially when a certain broody, ex-assassin refuses to admit when he’s at fault. Featuring Hawkeye and the tracksuit mafia!

A/N: This fic will be multiple chapters (probably 2 or 3). It is primarily based on the Hawkeye comics by Matt Fraction and Tales of Suspense: Hawkeye and Winter Soldier by Matthew Rosenberg. You might notice one line is directly lifted from Tales of Suspense (Hawkeye talking about letting the bad guys keep their teeth). I just love the sarcastic, punchy humor of Hawkeye in the comics as well as the friendship dynamics between the two of them in Tales of Suspense. If you guys enjoy this I’d love it if you could comment, like or reblog! I thrive off positive reinforcement, thank you!!

Warnings: Fluff and crack, some violence, language, short reader

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One minute you’re walking back to your apartment in Bed-Stuy, enjoying the warmth of the caramel latte cupped in your hands.

The next minute you’re sputtering with a facefull of spattered milk foam as your coffee cup is impaled by a bright purple arrow.

Hawkguy!

You love your landlord. You really do. But how many times have you warned him about target practice on the roof?!

“Oops!” Clint Barton’s chagrined voice floats down from the top of your building. “My bad! Hey, you might wanna--”

OOMPH!

It feels like you’ve just been hit by a speeding car. A blur of leather, muscle and metal zooms through your peripheral vision and slams into you, sending you sprawling on the sidewalk. You throw out your hands to catch yourself and hear a decisive, sickening snap as your right wrist meets the concrete.

“...duck!” Clint finishes.

Frickin’ super heroes.

Cradling the injured limb to your chest, you crawl away from the street, huddling in the shadow of a front stoop as the two Avenger rejects do battle with a...well, you can only describe it as a goon squad. A group of about twenty guys in tracksuits carrying automatic weapons. You watch the two men’s fluid, brutal movements as they take down their opponents with professional grace. You’d be really impressed if you weren’t so pissed off.

“Thanks, for helping, Buck. I’m gonna call in the--Jesus!,” Clint’s standing over the last guy Bucky took down, staring at the guy’s pulverized face. “...I let my guys keep their teeth, man!”

Bucky rolls his eyes. He flinches when his gaze lands on your stormy face as you rapidly hop over fallen tracksuits, hugging your broken wrist to your side.

“Hey, Hawkguy!” you barrel up to Clint, kicking him in the shin. “You owe me a latte!”

You barely come up to Clint’s chest and yet the archer shifts nervously on his feet and his shoulders slump down. He looks like the human embodiment of one of those dog shaming memes and Bucky snorts in glee. But his merriment vanishes when you round on him with narrowed, storm cloud eyes.

“And you!” you screech. “You broke my arm!”

Bucky’s eyes widen for an instant but he shrugs and tries to play it off, “Not my fault you have shitty balance. You broke your own arm!”

“I--WHAT!??”

Just as you’re gearing up for an epic scolding with some vicious chest-poking thrown in, Clint jumps in between you with a placating look on his face.

“Hey, hey, hey! We’re all friends, right? What’s a broken bone between friends?”

You level a deadpan look at your landlord as you say, “I’ve never met this man before in my life, Clint.”

“And I don’t need to defend myself to civilians who insert themselves into dangerous situations,” Bucky adds helpfully.

“Insert myself! I was just getting a coffee--!”

“His name’s Bucky,” Clint interjects, “he can be a little broody...a little murdery at times...but he’s really a good guy when you get down to it…”

Bucky snorts and runs a hand through his long, dark hair. You have to crane your neck a little to look up at the six-foot-something assassin and when you do you find him looking down his nose at you with a bland smirk. Insufferable! You move to put your hands on your hips in preparation for a renewed scolding but the sudden motion reminds you that your wrist is definitely broken and you wince against the pain.

The haughty look in Bucky’s eyes flickers for just a second as he watches you hiss and clutch your arm.

“Whatever--Clint, call me an ambulance, will you?”

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A few days later Clint throws a pizza party on the roof and invites the whole building. He claims it’s in your honor, to make up for what happened, but there’s a potluck party on the roof almost every weekend so the gesture isn’t all that impressive. Still. He does hand you a steaming latte from your favorite coffee shop as you walk into the party. When you reach out to take the cup his eyes light up at the sight of your cast.

“Purple!?” he gushes, gently taking hold of the cast.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...don’t flatter yourself, Hawkguy. I just like purple is all…” you assure him, not wanting to give him any ideas. Look, you’re human. You won’t deny that your landlord is a tall, blond, beefcake with an adorable dog and...occasional funny jokes. But you also live in the same building and you’ve seen the stream of different women in and out of his apartment. You’re not interested in this particular train wreck.

“Hey, Buck,” he calls out, and your eyes widen in alarm as you notice the dark-haired super-spy lurking on the edge of the party. “C’mere and say hi to your favorite traffic cone.”

Clint turns back to you as Bucky’s walking over and nudges you in the side, “Get it? Traffic cone, because--”

“Got it, Clint,” you roll your eyes.

Bucky slinks over to join you. His long hair is pulled back in a messy bun at the nape of his neck and the sharp line of his jaw is dusted with stubble. He looks over at you and you realize his beautiful, long lashes perfectly frame his blue eyes. Okay, so when you said you weren’t interested in train wrecks--

“Hey, Bucky,” you greet him, looking up at him through your lashes. Your lips curl upward involuntarily. How come you hadn’t noticed how handsome he is before? Oh, right. You’d been distracted with chastising him for BREAKING YOUR ARM.

Bucky nods silently in greeting, seemingly immune to your wiles.

Clint isn’t.

“Hey! Am I--,” he gestures between the two of you with a wide grin on his lips, “Am I sensing something here?! How wild!”

“Clint, you’re delusional,” you snap and start to turn away toward the food table but he skips in front of you to halt your progress.

“Wait, wait, we have to sign your cast!” he pulls a Sharpie out of his back pocket and grabs for your arm.

“Ouch! Be gentle, dipshit!” you grouse, but you’re a little pleased that he’s apparently thought enough about this little “I’m Sorry” party to bring a Sharpie with him to sign your cast.

“There ya go!” he says with a final flourish, giving you back your arm.

You look down to see that he’s drawn a little bull’s eye with an arrow sticking out of it next to the words, “Sorry my reckless friend ran you over. HawkEYE.” He’d bolded and underlined the “eye” in Hawkeye as if you’d ever give up teasing him about his superhero identity.

You laugh and give him a little hug, “Thanks, Clint. Well, I’m gonna get some pizza--”

“No!” he cries, reaching over to drag Bucky forward and shoving the pen into his hand. “Bucky has to sign too.”

You squint your eyes at Clint and he smooths his face into a look of bland innocence, shrugging and frowning at you as he mouths, “What???”

Bucky sighs through his nose like he’s being severely put upon and you scoff, “Don’t worry, Bucky, you don’t have to--”

“Lemme see,” he says and his voice is a soft, deep drag along your nerve endings. Holy Hell. He reaches for your arm and cradles the wounded wrist in his metal hand, letting the pen hover over the cast as he considers what to write. He takes his time and you just stand there like a fish on a hook, staring at his beautiful lips as he darts out a tongue in concentration and starts writing. You can feel Clint watching you watch Bucky and you blush to the roots of your hair.

“There,” Bucky says, releasing your arm and capping the Sharpie. “Hope you feel better soon.”

He’s looking into your eyes and you’re falling under the spell of his gaze. His lips curve in a sexy grin and you mutter, breathless, “Thanks!”

You stumble over to the pizza boxes and surreptitiously glance down at your cast. His handwriting is old-fashioned and elegant. You bite your lip to keep from squealing in anticipation as you read his words.

“You should be more careful. XOXO. -Bucky”

You turn back to find him bent over with laughter.

Frickin’ Superheroes.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #hawkeye #hawkguy #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #chelsfic

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easnuppa · 5 years

Text

The outlawˋs way

chapter 3, part 2

He sat quiet and waited for her to continue, but she kept her silence, so he reckoned she wasn’t up for sharing, it really didn’t matter, he had to leave soon anyways.

"What is your name Mr?"

Daryl leaned over and grabbed the pitcher and filled the tin cup and emptied it in one big gulp, he placed the now empty bowl on the floor, the tin cup still in his hands.

"Daryl," he answered, leaving his last name on purpose.

The woman, Lissybeth, nodded.

"What’s the nearest town called here?" he finally asked, he hoped he was a long way from Golden Creek.

"Black Stone is the nearest town, it’s about an hour ride from here, now probably two, because of all the snow."

He nodded, he or his family had never been here, his identity was probably safe for now.

"Where’s my horse and the rest of my things?" he said, glancing over at his saddlebags.

"Your horse is out with my other horses, I’ve fed it well, so no worries about it, a fine animal. Your things are right there."

He looked at her, now chewing on his thumb, he was trying to figure out if she was lying.

"I’m missing one satchel and my gun belt."

He watched as her eyes flickered a bit before it landed on the floor, she was hiding something.

"Yeah, well, I didn’t know if you were gonna wake up and kill me in my sleep, so I took your gun belt into the house, and I couldn’t leave all that money laying around in the barn, I hid it."

Daryls anger flared up, the woman was definitely a crazy one.

"Did ya tell anyone about the money?" She shook her head.

"There’s no one to tell, I’m here all alone, except from the horses."

Daryl looked at her like she had two heads.

"Ya live here all by yerself? On a ranch? With no help? Are ya insane? Do ya know how dangerous it is out there?”

The woman just nodded.

"Yes, I’m well aware of the danger, the danger you’re talking about wiped out my entire family. I do get some help from time to time from the buffalo hunters over at Black river."

Daryl froze in an instant as he heard about the buffalo hunters. His family had been on the buffalo hunters hitlist during the war. The government had a specially trained army who hunted down lawless men and slayed them, and they were.

Daryl had never seen anyone except his own family who could track and shoot as good. He forced himself to nod, but he could see that the woman had caught on to him trying to hide something.

But she pretended like it was nothing. He got up to his feet and walked over to the barn doors, he looked outside.

"Well ya better go get my stuff missy, I gotta get a move on".

The woman was up on her feet too, he looked over his shoulder and met her almost pleading eyes.

"You can’t go now Mr, you need to rest and let your body heal. And the snow is too deep."

He looked over the landscape, damn she was right, he was stuck here.

"Looks like yer stuck with me until the weather gets warmer, I guess I owe ya as much for patchin’ me up."

He knew he sounded far from happy about the arrangement, but he really didn’t have the energy to pretend, and he had always been straight forward with people, better that way.

The woman smiled as she walked up to him, she was pretty he could admit that, but too crazy for her own good.

"Well since your gonna help me out, I reckon you have some experience with horses?"

Daryl nodded confirming.

"Good, since you are a stranger to me I prefer that you sleep out here, I will fetch you some more blankets, but you can eat with me in the house, and if it is alright with you, I will keep your money and gun belt hidden for now."

Daryl scoffed, he had expected as much, although he felt naked without his guns. He nodded to make her see he accepted her terms.

"You look tired, you should get some more rest, I’ll call you in for supper and you can help me take in the horses to night."

He watched as the little woman walked out and closed the doors behind her, he walked over to his makeshift bed and laid down.

Daryl had stayed on Lissy’s farm for almost a month, a harsh storm had hit them, and they had been snowed in for almost three weeks, they had just sat down to eat when Lissy sighed, Daryl was as usual shovelling the food into his mouth and chewing loudly.

"What?" He asked gruffly, looking at her through his long brown tresses, Lissy met his eyes, the man was always on guard, he was almost like a wild animal, skittish and always ready to attack.

Lissy placed her spoon on the table.

"It’s just that I promised to deliver the horses I showed you to Black river two weeks ago, but because of all this snow I can’t manage to keep my promise."

She hated that she couldn’t keep her end of the bargain. She hated to think that they didn’t trust her.

"Why ya giving those people good horses for free in the first place?" Daryl asked, cocking a brow, nothing came for free these days, people always had ulterior motives with their kindness.

Lissy shrugged,

"I’m not giving them away, I trade them for food and other supplies that I can’t get on my own with hunting, fishing," Lissy had gotten used to the man’s rough edges by now, and was waiting on some sarcastic remark.

"Ya hunt?"

This question was definitely not what she had expected, she smiled and nodded.

"Mhm, only small critters though, a buck is too much for me to drag home alone."

Daryl nodded; her answer clearly made sense to him.

"If ya give me back my guns, I’ll go hunt down a buck for ya."

Lissy chewed on her bottom lip, not sure if giving him back his pistol belt was a smart thing

"If I was plannin’ on killing ya, I would have done it already, I still have my knife."

Lissy looked up and met his stormy blue, shadows where now clouding his eyes, she could easily see the darkness that was lurking in his shadows, even if she was curious to learn more about Daryl and his past, what kind of man he was, she wasn’t one to poke a sleeping bear.

She nodded.

"Alright I’ll give you back your gun belt, but you need to help me take those six horses over to Black river tomorrow, they have waited long enough," Lissy watched him slow down his chewing, he was staring down at the table, he had acted funny the last time she had brought up the people from Black River.

"What? You have something against people like them?"

Daryl just shook his head, he didn’t want to tell her why he was hesitant about helping her over to Black River, that meant that he had to tell her who he was and what he was a part of, what he had done.

She would definitely turn him in if he did, and he didn’t want that, he liked it just fine on the ranch, he liked working with the horses, he liked the quietness, the steady meals, he liked being around her. It was soothing his black soul. He felt like a person, like he mattered.

He had noticed that he had caught himself staring at her as they mucked out the boxes, or when they were working with the horses or shovelling snow. He had never met a woman like her, fragile but still strong and determined.

He had cursed at himself when he realised, he admired her. It was wrong, he couldn’t get attached to anyone, least of all her.

Daryl woke up early, he was restless and aggravated, he was anxious about going to Black River.

This was the day that they would recognize him and tell Lissy about who he was, he knew it, he could feel it in his bones.

He had let the horses out before Lissy had woken up and then he sat on her porch just waiting for her to get breakfast ready.

He had packed his saddlebags ready, so he could hightail if someone were to notify the sheriff.

He heard the door swing open behind him and looked over his shoulder, he looked her up and down, and she almost took his breath away where she stood wearing a man’s shirt and trousers that clung to her feminine curves.

She met his eyes with a soft smile.

"Good morning, you’re up early, and already let the horses out? I guess I better get started on the breakfast then, you must be starving."

He didn’t answer, he just nodded and grunted as usual, feeling stupid for eyeing her up and down like he had done.

He got up to his feet and followed her inside the house, he stood there watching her for a moment, his thumb between his teeth, a nervous habit of his. Why the fuck was he born with this insecurity around woman, his brother, his pa and uncle, they all where brilliant around woman, got them to giggle and swarm around them with just a wink of an eye, but not Daryl, he was awkward, clumsy and just plain stupid when it came to woman.

" Want any help?" he forced himself to ask, she turned and stared at him.

"With cooking? You cook?"

Daryl felt stupid again, course he could cook, if you were to survive out there you had to feed yourself.

He walked over and grabbed the frying pan and placed it over the fire in the fireplace, he placed the pieces of bacon on it, he felt her eyes on him and turned.

"What?" she giggled slightly.

"Nothing. Just not used to men cooking, a man making food was degrading in my family," Daryl scoffed.

"Nothin’ degradin’ of keepin’ yerself alive by feedin’ yerself. When ya live out there, ya need to know how to hunt, cook and clean yer own clothes. No one will do it for ya," he said, she had cut up some bread and placed it on the table with butter, she handed him a pot of coffee, he turned the bits of bacon in the iron pan.

"I guess you’re right, I’m just not used to it....so you lived out there?"

Daryl swallowed slowly, damn, he had said to much, he lifted the pan off the fire and put it on the table, and nodded, he sat down and filled his plate, he started stuffing his face, but she clearly didn’t take the hint of not wanting to talk.

"I thought maybe you were from Golden creek, maybe you had family there or something?"

He almost choked on the bite of bread, he coughed and punched himself on the chest.

"Why do ya think I’m from Golden Creek?" He half whispered with his gruff voice, getting nervous, his thumb stuck in between his teeth again, he couldn’t make himself look at her.

"I don’t know, I guess I just assumed you were from Golden creek when I saw the Golden horse branding on your horse," she said with a shrug, Daryl shook his head.

"Hardly been to the town, the horse was a gift from my uncle," the lie felt bitter in his mouth, he hated that he had to lie to her.

As they guided the horses in to the paddock at Black River, they jumped down from their own horses, Daryl kind of stood back awkwardly, chewing on his thumb, watching Lissy talk with some of the ladies.

He had pulled his Stetson further down on his forehead, maybe they wouldn’t recognize him he thought. He hadn’t noticed the group of men gathering, looking the horses over with wide smiley faces.

Daryl knew they were gonna be pleased with the ones Lissy had picked out, they were young, strong animals, with an easy temperament. The woman really knew how to tame the wild horses, she had a special hand with them and that impressed Daryl immensely.

"Does she know who you are?" Daryl turned to the slightly shorter man standing next to him, the man’s eyes where fixed on Lissy, just like his own, but then he shifted his focus and looked straight into his own blue eyes.

Daryl shuffled his feet but didn’t answer, the man spoke again.

"I’ll take that as a no. You are putting her in danger, living on her ranch, yer pa is tearing up towns to find ya."

Daryl knew he had been recognized, he swallowed hard.

"My tracks were covered by the snow; I’ll be long gone before they even think of comin’ to this side of the mountain pass."

He had recognized the man standing next to him as the leader of the town, Morgan. He knew the man could easily take him out on the spot if he wanted too.

"I’m just helping ˋer out during the winter, I owe ˋer that much after saving my life."

The man next to him, Morgan, sighed.

"I just hope that saving yer life doesn’t bring an end to hers, she’s a good woman. The people of Black River have a good deal going with her and we will keep our eyes on her ranch, if anything happens to her, we will hunt ya down like the dog ya are and slay ya."

The man’s brown eyes were cold and serious, Daryl just nodded, he knew he meant every word he said. The man was about to say something else, but Lissy came walking over to them and put an end to the conversation, or threats.

"Good morning Morgan, I hope you will be satisfied with the horses we brought, and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner."

The man gave Lissy one of his rare smiles.

"No worries miss Lissybeth, I know the snow would have been too thick, I knew you would deliver as soon as you could."

Daryl watched as Lissy’s face break into a wide pearly white smile, her pale blond hair was braided and hanging over her right shoulder, he saw how some of the men in the group where eyeing her, and white rage was boiling in his veins.

He glared over at the men, who as soon they met his ice-cold glare withdrew their eyes and focused back on the horses.

Morgen was staring down at her with a more fatherly proudness then anything else. Lissy turned to Daryl.

"Thank god Daryl here could help me or else I wouldn’t have been able to come until spring," her voice soft and soothing, her praise making his cheeks warm up slightly, he wasn’t used to getting praised for just doing his job.

Morgan nodded and said with a more worrisome tone in his voice.

"Yes, good thing he is there to help you," Lissy swung herself up into the saddle and Daryl followed her example, he couldn’t wait to get out of this town, Lissy said her good byes and pushed her heals to her mares flanks pushing her into a slow trot, Daryl was about to do the same, but Morgan grabbed his horses reins.

"Remember what I said son..." Daryl met his brown eyes and nodded once.

He had understood the warning, loud and clear.

He made his horse trot up next to Lissy, they rode in silence for a while, but as they were to turn to head over the hill that would lead to her ranch, she continued straight ahead.

"I think we should go into town and spoil ourselves a little, I bet a man like yourself is dying for a couple of rounds in the saloon, and I really need to buy some supplies that Black River can’t produce.

Daryl’s eyes flew up and met her grey sparkling orbs, he remembered the last time he was in a saloon and what had happened afterwards, he could still hear the gurgling sounds from the woman he held in his arms as he slit her throat. He pushed back the panic that he was sure was latched into his blue eyes. He would tend to the horses while she did her thing.

@of-storms-and-sadness , @twdeadfanfic

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon/ female oc #hurt/comfort #fluff/smut #wild/west #Au

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traincat · 5 years

Note

Reading your 5-year plan for spider-man comics on twitter: ugh your mind, rly amazing

I stand by all of this, but whether or not Peter was to be temporarily removed from the picture I really do think they should turn over one of his traditional main titles to Miles. (Nobody seems to get these days that “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man” is a sarcastic joke, so maybe we should just turn the book over to the actual friendly Spider-Man.) I just don’t think it’s fair to both characters that Peter gets books titled Amazing/Spectacular/Sensational/etc and meanwhile Miles is just stuck with regular Spider-Man. In the spirit of the character, I think he’d want Miles in more of a spotlight. Transferring Miles into the main continuity universe should’ve open up a host of opportunities for Miles, and instead they’re just putting out more and more Peter Parker books that aren’t even well-written or characterized, when I do think Miles could hold his own if given the opportunity. Additionally, if Spider-Man PS4 and Into the Spider-Verse have proved anything, it’s that there’s a lot of desire and a big audience for more Peter-Miles interaction, something the comics themselves have been seriously slacking on.

Don’t get me wrong, I would like to get new, good Peter Parker stories – but it just doesn’t seem to be happening. His voice is just so bland right now, and it’s a real insult to the best of the character. Part of me sincerely doesn’t think we can get new, truly good Peter Parker stories again until we address Superior Spider-Man and how invasive and traumatic it was, instead of brushing any serious consequences off the table. (And please stop putting out “Superior” books and trying to make Otto in his stolen Peter clone body with his extreme stalking of Anna Maria into a heroic character. It’s extra creepy how nobody at Marvel seems to be aware of how creepy this is. You can’t write a redemption arc by waving aside everything the character did in Superior and going “yeah but he beat up a possessed eight year old, so you know, he’s trying.”) I guess my personal feelings is that, with the cyclical nature of comic book deaths and resurrections, I’d rather take Peter Parker off the field until they can figure out how to tell good stories about him again rather than putting out poorer quality content.

Re: the Gwen story idea in particular, I (and several other people I know) have been thinking about it a lot, especially since the Ghost Spider rebranding because like, come on, it’s right there. And in a world where Jason Todd and Bucky Barnes both get these violent vengeance quest resurrection stories, I feel like it’s pretty glaring why Gwen does not. I like Spider-Gwen as a concept, but it’s not really the same thing, and a lot of creator conversation around Spider-Gwen seems to frame Gwen’s death as some sort of character flaw, and that Spider-Gwen is a better character for not being subjected to a creator decision in 1974. But what I love about 616 Gwen is this kind of unbridled intensity in her, and I think it would be incredible paired with a leather jacket, Peter’s old motorcyle, a stormy night in a graveyard, and one girl’s quest to kill her murderer, her friend’s abusive father, her other friend’s murderer, the orchestrator of the death of her lover and best friend’s, his future wife’s, infant child. Let’s get weird and dark and murderous. Credit to @bipeteparker always because Sydney’s always super inspirational, but especially for this aesthetic post: http://bipeteparker.tumblr.com/post/175246607639/gwen-stacy-a-ghost-a-miracle-a-spider

I think my final two points are that I think a lot of Spider-Man comes out of a place of grief, and I think it would be interesting to reverse and invert that – grief over Peter, rather than Peter’s grief, in a way we haven’t really gotten to explore in 616, at least not from all of these directions. The second is that whether people want to admit it or not, a lot of writing these long, long running comics is essentially paid fanfic – you are playing with characters and settings you didn’t create, and the best fanfic writers can nail those voices, keep up that characterization, build on those relationships, and pull themes and play with them in a way that rings true. So these are just my personal ideas – but I can write some damn good fanfic.

But anyway, thank you, anon, I’m glad you liked my little rant haha.

#*replies #traincat talks comics #Anonymous

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maid-of-mourne-shore · 5 years

Text

Why don’t you leave? - Bucky x Reader

Hello! This is my entry for #elles1kwritingchallenge, hope you enjoy! @delicatelyherdreams

Beta read by: @thebatscribe

Summary: An aspiring doctor and an unorthodox mobster build a strange friendship, but in a world of crime, can it really last?

Words: 10K (yikes)

Prompt: Why are you helping me? / Because I love you

Modern AU

Warnings: swear words, angst, guns, blood, gore and bad attempt at understanding poker lingo

Masterlist

“What fresh hell is this?” (Y/N) didn’t even let him sit down on the old, oak table, before laying into the man. She didn’t have to look at him to know it was bad, she could smell him, it was all over, the coppery taste of blood mingling with the air.

Bucky gave (Y/N) his signature smirk, the one where his eyebrow raises, putting those curious wrinkles on his forehead, tipping his head down towards her, letting those chestnut locks, fall forward. Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, waltzing over, emphasizing their height difference as he peered down at her. (Y/N) refused to back off when he tried to play coy, placing her hands on his firm chest, the first few buttons of the white dress shirt left open, guiding him to sit on the edge of the table, as she grabbed her supplies.

“Come on, not even a smile?” Bucky’s head leaned down to keep her eyes, pink lips perfectly pouting. She averted her gaze, bringing the medical kit to sit on his right side.

“Where does it hurt?” (Y/N) asked, keeping her face even, refusing to let him see just how worked up she was.

“Right here, baby doll,” Bucky sighed, as he pressed a hand over his heart, clutching the fabric of the shirt in his fist.

“Oh, then I guess you don’t need me,” (Y/N) quipped, turning on her heel to march out of the room.

“(Y/N), wait!” Before she can escape, he grabs her wrist, turning her to face him.

“Don’t leave, please.” Bucky’s voice is low now, eyes turned stormy as he removes his black blazer, hissing as it pulls over aching muscles, letting it fall to the floor. She lets out a strangled gasp at the crimson stains over his left shoulder, a deep stab wound. He gives her a pained smile, puppy dog eyes looking up at her, already begging for forgiveness.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell have you done to yourself?” (Y/N)’s tone was angry, but her eyes were terrified, they always were. She put up a good fight, but (Y/N) could never hide, not from Bucky.

“Doll, it’s a flesh wound!” Bucky whined, rolling his head back, eyelids fluttering shut.

“James!” (Y/N) shouted, grabbing the front of his shirt, undoing the rest of the buttons, unable to think of anything witty to say.

“I’ve had way worse, and you know it,” he retorted, wincing as she pulled the shirt over his shoulders, down his arms, and onto the floor joining his blazer.

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” Her eyes were warning him.

“Do you need a drink?” She asked, getting straight back to work, pouring rubbing alcohol over clean gauze, pressing it to the gash, Bucky clenching his fists in response.

“Nah, fuck it, get it done,” he grunted.

(Y/N) nodded, laying out all of the supplies, hoping to make the procedure as quick as possible. It was routine, done so many times before, a comfort to both of them as the room fell into silence, helping him lie back, placing a pillow under his head. Bucky let out a sharp hiss when she began with the needle, but quickly silenced himself. Bucky fucking hated this part, he really did, but if he’s heard crying out, he’ll become the butt of everyone’s jokes. For what he can’t express with screams and shouts, he makes up for by basking in her attention, grabbing onto her for comfort, whining so she would comb her fingers through his hair, or how she lets him hold her hand for a minute before she starts again. (Y/N) always called Bucky her needy, little pup, which was meant to be an insult, but it only spurred him on.

The day he got shot for the first time, he even squeezed a kiss on the cheek out of her. In all honesty, Bucky was terrified, that shit hurt, but (Y/N)’s gentle touch, her mere presence calmed him down, talking him through it, guiding his breaths as she cauterized the wound. (Y/N) had given him a thick roll of gauze to bite down on, knowing how important it was to keep up appearances around here, prying ears would be right outside to see if this broke the boss's precious son. One hand held the tool to his skin, the other petted his cheek, whispering sweet words, encouraging him, telling him how well he was doing. Bucky held onto her like it was the only thing keeping him there, his knuckles white around her forearm, (Y/N) gritting her own teeth from the pain. When she finished, he refused to let her go until she properly rewarded him, insisting that he needed a kiss. Bucky expected (Y/N)’s typical, fiery response, maybe even a slap to the face, but he was shocked when she leaned down and he felt her soft lips on him, no coaxing needed.

“All done,” (Y/N) stated, cutting the thread.

“Thanks baby girl,” Bucky smiled up at her, the overhead light emphasizing his features. Straight nose, rosy pout, just enough stubble, dark locks splayed over the pillow, and those slate blue eyes. It would be so easy to let herself melt under him like all the other girls around, but when her eyes flitted back to his newly stitched wound, she felt the anger surge through her once more.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Still mad?” Bucky sulked, as he heaved himself up to sit on the table, (Y/N) cleaning up her tools.

“You have to ask?”

“Not this again, (Y/N),” Bucky sighed as his feet found the floor.

“Yes, this again,” she snarled, slamming the drawer shut, turning to face him. “When are you going to stop being so reckless?”

“Kinda part of the job description, doll,” he stated, biting the last part.

“I wish you wouldn’t do it,” (Y/N) blurted out, standing straight up to him, her eyes boring into his.

“I want you to be safe, I want you to take care of yourself, because I'm scared, James! I’m terrified that one day you’re not gonna come back, and there’s nothing that I can do about it.”

It was the same argument, the same conflict, the same back and forth every time he came skulking back to the hideout, full of bruises and blood, and it always ended in yelling and tears. Yet, the next time he was in need, it was back to the way things always were, cleaning his wounds, patching him back up, reluctantly sending him out to the fight. It was always the same, and it always hurt.

“(Y/N) enough,” Bucky warned, his voice dropping low and gruff.

“Don’t try to intimidate me, James. I’m not one of your fathers lacky’s!”

“What do you want from me, huh?” Bucky raised his hands, dropping them back to his sides, his eyes aflame. She felt herself shrinking under his gaze, tears threatening to fall, so she looked down to her feet, twiddling her fingers together as she leaned her back against the wall.

“What? Do you want me to quit? Go live an honest life, (Y/N)?” He asked incredulously.

“You could,” she mumbled. Bucky snapped.

“Just don’t get it, do ya?” He growled, standing dangerously close to her. “I can’t leave, this is my father's empire, if I walk out that door, I'm as good as dead!”

“I just, I hate seeing you hurt,” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears came tumbling down.

“Well, get used to it sweetheart!” He roared, but before he could get another word in, (Y/N) peeled out of the room.

He knew that he pushed it too far, he always did. Hurting people was what James Buchanan Barnes did best, and he hated it, yet he felt helpless. How could he leave? He knew nothing of living in the normal world, all he knew was this life, and after twenty-six years of it, he couldn’t change, but he never wanted to hurt (Y/N). Hired on only a year ago as a private doctor after dropping out of medical school, he had quickly become attached to her, a sarcastic, though heartfelt relationship was built in between gun fights, dirty money, and illegal substances.

(Y/N) came to them, young, desperate, and in need of cash, answering a wanted ad from the paper, requiring a medic for boxing matches. Bucky remembered her, walking into his father's office, dressed in formal clothing, hands grasping her resume in tight fists, eyes determined yet terrified. She was two semesters shy from graduating medical school, her grades high, and a strong recommendation from her teacher. Of course, it begged the question why she hadn’t stayed in school, to which her shoulders dropped, eyes finding the floor. (Y/N) indulged them, and his father hired her on the spot. Her sister was struggling with an addiction, and she needed the money to send her to a rehab center, postponing her dreams of becoming a doctor.

(Y/N) wasn’t deterred when she learned of the true nature of the job, she insisted it was okay, that this would be a good experience for her, one she could draw on when she went back to medical school. At first, (Y/N) was so nervous, eyes darting away when any of them looked at her, but she soon found her confidence, even cracking jokes with the mobsters, catching Bucky’s attention. He started seeking her out, (Y/N)’s company a breath of fresh air, asking her what it was like growing up with a mom, a dad, in a house, playing with other kids, going to a regular school, all the things he never really knew, at least not in the same way she did. And she would ask him, about growing up in the mob, about living in the shadows, what it was like to kill, and he would indulge her with the details he could, a friendship budding in an unlikely place.

“Fuck!” He pounded his fist into the wall.

“I raise.” A chip is pushed to the center.

“Same here.” Another chip.

“I fold.” Card are placed down.

“I call.”

“I fold.”

Eyes darted around the table, the room quickly filled with cigarette smoke, and the smell of rum, and whisky, though no one seemed to mind. They played with chips, though the value wasn’t cash. Money was of low importance when they had so damn much of it, it was other commodities that held value in these high stake tournaments. For Steve, it was full control over his wardrobe for a day, Clint’s suggestion. For Clint, Steve one-upped him by getting him to bet on a full on makeover. Sam bet on himself stripping down and running around the compound, and it turned out to be his best strategy yet, as no one particularly wanted him to lose. Natasha bet her favorite knife. And for Bucky, it was his trusty revolver.

“Everyone still in for the next round?” Clint questioned, collecting everyone’s cards back. A collection of nods and murmurs kept everyone seated at the table, all bets on. He was about to deal out the next set when the door creaked open, (Y/N) slipping inside wearing a silk pajama top and black leggings, as if she had been planning on going to bed in the near future. She strided over to the table, much to the confusion of all players. (Y/N) wasn’t one to gamble, but the look on her face exuded complete resolve and confidence in her actions.

“Oh, you need somethin’ doll?” Bucky asked, taking the last drag of his cigarette before putting it out.

“Deal me in?” (Y/N) raised a brow, taking the seat beside Clint who was reshuffling the cards.

“Playing with fire, baby,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “This lot won’t go easy just because you’re cute.”

“I’m so eager to watch you eat those words,” she cooed, pulling out a wad of twenties from her breast pocket.

“We don’t play with cash, (Y/N),” Clint held his hand up, refusing the money.

“Then what shall I bet?”

“Something of value to you,” Steve suggested. “It can be an item, or something that you would do.”

“O-oh, um.”

“Can always back out sweetheart,” Bucky jested, leaning on his elbows, taunting her.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, pulling Clint in to whisper in his ear. His eyebrows knitted together, but soon his mouth curled up and he was nodding.

“What’s the bet?” Sam questioned.

“A kiss,” (Y/N) stated.

“Do we all agree?” Clint raised a brow.

“No complaints here,” Sam sneered, eyeing Bucky. The rest simply nodded in agreeance.

Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, left hand clenching into a fist. The cards were handed out and a pile of chips were delegated to (Y/N) for her betting pleasure. Before he picked up his cards his eyes fluttered closed, relaxing the muscles in his jaw, resuming his infamous poker face. Bucky never lost, and it wasn’t because he was particularly good at poker, but because James Buchanan Barnes knew how, where, and when to lie. Whether it was holding a bluff in front of the enemy, keeping his father's nose out of late night affairs, or charming women into his bed, he could tell anyone what they wanted to hear and have them believe it.

Now he was nervous, not for his revolver, his baby, but for (Y/N). Bucky didn’t care about the kiss, no of course not, but he couldn’t just have any of these schmucks lay their filthy lips on her! Clint was a dirty bastard and would certainly attempt to continue that kind of action with her in private. Sam was an ass who knew of Bucky and (Y/N)’s fond relationship and would surely never let Bucky live it down if he won that kind of prize. Natasha was a damn good kisser and probably wouldn’t take advantage of his wide-eyed friend, but the thought of her kissing his ex-girlfriend put a sick feeling in his stomach. And Steve, his best friend, his right hand man, this was probably the best case scenario if somehow Bucky actually lost, but Steve had a girlfriend, and unlike Clint and Sam, he was a committed man, and Bucky knew that he’d feel guilty for it. The only option left was for Bucky to win. It was for (Y/N)’s sake.

Bucky picked up his cards and he had to physically fight himself against breaking out into a string of curses. Holding a two of clubs, and a nine of hearts, left little to work with as the three community cards placed in the middle were a four of hearts, a jack of diamonds, and a king of diamonds. Bucky eyed the rest of them up, but no one was showing anything, not yet. It was fine, he had dealt with much worse, and he needed to win this. It would be a round of bluffing.

“How’s your pa doing, Buck? Heard he’s been pretty sick,” Clint asked, breaking the silence. They always enjoyed easy conversation during late night matches, but with (Y/N) hanging around, they weren’t sure what to say. No one disliked her, quite the contrary, but she didn’t partake in the job in the same way they did. She dealt with the gorey aftermath, but she didn’t go into it, guns blazing, knives slicing through hardened flesh and muscle alike, fists pounding their way through drug deals gone bad, police raids, and set ups. They were on two different sides of the same coin.

“He’s seen better days,” Bucky answered, voice easy yet solemn. His father’s declining health wasn’t something he wanted to discuss though he used the cover of conversation to watch the game, and take the attention away from his shit hand.

“Your old man will pull through, he’s tough,” Steve assured, raising the bet.

“What about that job you butchered last week, Sam?” Bucky quipped, turning the heat onto the unsuspecting man.

“Butchered? Please, my intel was fresh, it was you guys that fucked it up,” Sam retorted, flicking a chip into the pile.

“Please elaborate,” Natasha challenged. Her voice was silky smooth, though her cocked eyebrow was anything but kind.

“Look, if little miss over here hadn’t been wound so tight, they wouldn’t have suspected a thing!” Sam explained, a hand gesturing at the redhead.

“You wanna make something of it, Icarus?” Natasha snapped.

“Come on guys, let’s keep it civil,” Steve appealed, his signature ‘Disappointed Dad’ look on full display. Natasha and Sam both sat back in their chairs, eyes boring into their cards.

“Um, what happened?” (Y/N) murmured to Clint.

“Another gang has been encroaching on our territory, engaging in business, attempting to steal our customers, and connections. We went in with Natasha as a distraction, while we cleaned out their stock, sending a message to get the fuck out.”

“It didn’t go well?” She asked, though from the previous conversation (Y/N) already knew the answer.

“One of the guys tried to have his way with her,” Clint grimaced. “Sure, they got handsy, that’s expected, but it was never supposed to get that far. Natasha punched him square in the jaw, and though she took the rest of them out, somebody must’ve sent a signal, because they swarmed us, gave us all a good beat down.”

“Was that the night Bucky was stabbed?” She gasped.

“Yeah.”

(Y/N) glanced over only to find Bucky watching the two of them intently, throwing back the last of his whisky. When it came to the actual business aspect of things, she had been left mostly in the dark, only given details when necessary, and though he had assured her it was nothing like the Hollywood movies, the jobs carried a serious amount of risk, ranging from bodily injury, being arrested, or even killed.

At first, when (Y/N) came to realize she would be working for people who dealt drugs, and that she would paying for her own sisters rehab with illegal money from the exploits, (Y/N) figured that she must be the biggest hypocrite in the world. She had accepted the job out of need, certainly not want, though as she opened up and built a relationship with the mob boss’s unorthodox son Bucky, (Y/N) learned that they were more like pirates than bloodthirsty criminals. His particular mob had a strict moral code, breaking that was grounds for punishment by death, so the rules were held to a high standard. One such rule was that although they bought and sold illicit drugs, they refused to buy and sell prostitutes, the members of their mob were even barred from buying prostitutes for personal use from other places. Perhaps it was cherry picking, perhaps it was a poor excuse to make up for the wrongs they had already done, but it was their way of carrying out business and slowly, (Y/N) had come to live with it.

Even more so was the understanding that the police, the people she saw opposite to criminals, were just as corrupt as her mob employers. In fact, they knew many officers by name who would take bribes, hush money for when something went down, turning a blind eye to their dealings. (Y/N) was floored to learn of how interconnected the forces were with them, and it added yet another, perplexing layer to her new reality. Even now, she still didn’t accept the mob, the lifestyle they lived, nor the business they engaged in, but she agreed that it wasn’t as black and white as she had originally perceived it to be.

Bucky, was the perfect example. On the surface, he��s a criminal, a mobster who can kill on command, sells illicit drugs which harm people and can destroy lives. Yet, he was born into this life, it’s all he knows. And Bucky is so much more than any of those labels. He’s smart, he’s witty, he acts charming and unfazed, but she knows that he takes anti-anxiety medication everyday to help keep his racing thoughts at bay. Bucky cares about those around him, he’s so deeply loyal to his family that he would do anything for them. Bucky makes her feel seen, heard, and cared for, something she hasn’t had the luxury of feeling in a very long time. (Y/N) has come to learn that Bucky is anything but a simple label.

“I fold,” Sam sighed, as the last community card was placed on the table, making it the final round.

“I fold,” Steve stated, placing his cards down.

Bucky looked to his own hand and still had absolutely nothing, though the attitude from the table gave him hope. No one was jumping at this, and the cards in the middle weren’t exactly winners themselves. He just had to act confident, pretend he had something, get the rest of ‘em to fold, and collect on the sweet peck from his pretty little doctor.

“Fold,” Natasha huffed.

“I Fold,” Clint droned.

Bucky eyed her, it was just the two of them now, and she had a mischievous look on her face. When the hell did she have time to learn poker in med school? He would have to ask her later. No matter, Bucky refused to lose his revolver to anyone, so it was time to amp up the charm, and get inside her head.

“Look doll, you did good, but we both know that the best bet for you would be folding right now.” Bucky gave her a smirk, his forehead wrinkling as he tipped his head towards her.

“I raise.” She returned his expression with full sass, plopping the chips onto the pile, earning a few interested hums from around the table.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he chuckled darkly, matching her raise.

“Alright, show your cards,” Clint said, leaning forward to distinguish the results.

“Shall I cash in my kiss now or later, darlin’?” He sang, eyeing her up and down. Everyone was silent as they scrutinized the cards, a soft chuckle beginning in Sam’s throat.

“You lost, Barnes.” Sam was howling now, clapping his hands, leaning his head back. The rest of the room erupted in snickers and quips, all aimed at the baffled brunette. Bucky never lost. Turns out she was bluffing too, but with two fours on the table and one in her hand, she managed the scrounge up three of a kind, which was still better than Bucky’s hand.

“Better luck next time, darlin’,” (Y/N) drawled, using the pet name against him.

His mouth hung wide open, as she strutted out of the room. She didn’t even bother to take her winnings, the cocky bitch.

In another week, he was back to see her, absolutely itching to get the stitches out of his skin, desperate to have the full use of his arm back. Bucky so easily got cabin fever while injured, if his fingers weren’t wrapped around a neck, or squeezing the trigger of a gun, then he just didn’t feel right. That was probably a concerning thing, but he had no interest in having some psychologist dive in there and pick around, he was more than happy to simply live his desires and deal with the consequences later. Perhaps, he would go to the gun range, make sure he hadn’t lost his touch, though he also knew of a few loud-mouthed mobsters who could use an ass kicking, so maybe hand to hand training would be his choice.

“Looking lovely as always,” Bucky cooed, entering the makeshift medical room.

“And you’re chipper this morning,” (Y/N) remarked, turning to see him stroll up, sitting on the table, already preening under her attention. “Someone nice keep your bed warm last night.”

“What kind of man do you take me for?” He gives her a knowing look.

“A whore,” she states, tipping her nose up.

“I never!” He gasped, feigning offense at her statement.

A smirk broke out on her lips, shaking her head lightly, but it soon faltered, looking back down at her hands. (Y/N) waited for him to remove the crimson colored Henley, eyes wandering back up to drink him in for just a second. All her life, she tried to be good, having aspirations of being a doctor so she could help people, dropping that dream when her sister needed her most, yet she must have done something very horrible either in this life or a past one to be tortured this way. Bucky was gorgeous, there was no denying that, layers of hardened muscle under smooth, olive skin, all stretched over a large, towering frame. He had a baby face, with sweet eyes that made her melt, a smile that caused her skin to tingle, and when he touched her, she would be willing to get down on both knees and pray for the electricity it sent through her body to stop.

But it wasn’t just that, when he spoke to her, she felt that he actually wanted to know the answers. He watched her intently, picking up on small hints and cues, knowing when her smile was strained when she was stressed, recognizing the bounce in her step when she was happy, and it made (Y/N) feel like someone actually knew her. Bucky did know her, intimately, in every way except the ways she needed, and it killed her. It wasn’t fair, nothing about it was.

“Hey,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “How’s your sister doing?” He saw the darkness clouding her eyes, and began to swing his legs, worried for what could be bothering her.

“She’s good actually, I spoke with her last night on the phone.” (Y/N) gave a gentle smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m glad, I'm really glad,” he returned her grin. “So then, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm alright.” She finished removing the last stitch and wiped the skin clean, standing back to admire her work.

“Holding out on me? That’s new,” he sighed, raising his eyebrows, working his best pout, slouching his shoulders. She sucked her teeth, crossing her arms in front of her, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Buck.”

“Come on,” he droned, letting his head roll back. “Can’t let my best girl stay sad all day. Who’s chops do I gotta to bust up, huh?”

Look in the mirror, she thought.

“Violence is no way to solve your problems,” she chided.

“Look, I know you’re a little workaholic, but you need to relax a bit, you know?” He suggested, giving her an exaggerated look. “The guys around here aren’t blind, i’m sure I could find you a willing candidate.”

“God, I don’t want to talk about it!” (Y/N) snapped at the innuendo, Bucky’s eyes widening in surprise.

“Alright, alright,” he exclaimed, standing up from the table. “Take it easy,” Bucky murmured, coming to stand in front of her.

(Y/N) kept her eyes trained on the floor so he wouldn’t see the hurt brewing inside, holding fast to her tough girl act.

“What if-,” he started, but almost losing his confidence halfway through. “What if we did something, to get your mind off whatever it’s stuck on?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, arms wound tightly around her midsection.

Bucky’s hand came to rest under her chin, lifting her jaw to meet her eyes. (Y/N) gave a good attempt at a smile, and to anyone else, she’d have them fooled, but not Bucky. Never Bucky. He hated seeing her so down in the dumps, but even more so as she was doing her best to keep it from him. (Y/N) didn’t keep secrets, not from Bucky. At first, he was almost certain it was about her sister, whenever she was upset it was because she was having difficulties at the rehabilitation center. More than once her sister had lashed out at her therapist, or broken house rules, and it had resulted in a stressful phone call for (Y/N). Yet it wasn’t that. Bucky was at a complete loss at what else could be bothering her, and he realized that their relationship consisted so much of her helping him, that he couldn’t recognize this look on her, it was so foreign.

Bucky instantly felt guilt, (Y/N) was always the healer, it was always about Bucky. Sure, he’d pick up her spirits every once in a while with a smooth line, and a quick smile, but right now, she was a stranger to him, and he didn’t like that. No, he hated it. Bucky needed to help her almost for his own damn sake, so he wasn’t leaving her alone without a fight.

“Come on, just the two of us,” he cooed, pushing some hair behind her ear.

“You mean it?” Her eyes flickered up to his.

“Just us, baby.”

“What will we do?”

“Wanna learn how to shoot a gun?” He cocked an eyebrow, delighted in how her face lit up as if she were a child who was told they would be getting a puppy.

“Can I really, Buck?” She gasped.

“Anything for you, doll.”

“What’s the biggest one you have?” She stared the clerk down, hands planted on the counter top, her eyes dead set on his.

“Uhh,” the man looked her up and down, confusion painting his expression as he scratched the back his head, his eyes searched for who she might be with, even more so, wondering how the hell she got in here. He would have to talk to security about this.

“Well, I mean, we have rifles, but you need special clearance to use anything semi-automatic and above.” He continued to eye her suspiciously. He had never seen her here before, and he knew everyone who came here.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have that,” she stated, nonchalantly, pulling back to pick at a nail.

“Really?” He gave her an incredulous look.

“Oh yes, I’m with Bucky Barnes.”

“O-oh!” He blundered, turning quickly to the rack behind him, opening the gate and pulling out a long gun to set on the counter. “This is the M16 rifle, it’s used in over 80 countries, probably the best one we have.”

“Oo la la,” her eyes went wide. She had been begging the boys to let her come shooting, and they always brushed her off, saying that they preferred her patching up their wounds rather than giving them more, so this was a long time coming for her, and she was going to enjoy herself. (Y/N)’s hand reached out to touch the smooth metal, when a voice called out, snapping her hand back to look up, innocently batting her eyes.

“Doll, hey!” He marched up to her, leaning down to speak into her ear. “Doll, you can’t just walk off here, okay?”

“Sorry,” she shied away from his close proximity. “I just got excited.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled, before turning to the man behind the counter. “What are we looking at today Jim?”

“She likes ‘em big and loud apparently,” he snorted, nodding down to the rifle in front of him.

“Oh, no no no, we’re starting small,” he chided. “That? Even I don’t use that.”

“Bucky, please?” She pleaded, holding onto his forearm, the leather of his jacket squeaking under her grip. He sighed, peering down into her eyes, cursing under his breath.

“We start small. If you’re good, I'll let you try this one, with my help. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she giggled, giving him a phony salute, walking off to go claim a lane.

“Ugh,” he groaned as his head fell back. “.9 mm handgun to start, and enough ammo to satiate her.”

“She’s trouble,” he let a hearty laugh out, turning to fill his request. “She’s cute though. Never seen you bring a girl in here before.”

“She’s been beggin’ me for a while, figured I'd indulge her,” he gave a lazy smile, taking the weapon and cartridges that were placed on the counter.

“Well, maybe it’ll be good for you, settle down with someone.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” he quickly objected.

“Sorry, my mistake.”

Bucky found her down towards the end, even though the place was mostly empty. It was his father’s private gun range, filled to the brim with all sorts of firearms from around the world, he practically grew up here, shooting a gun for the first time when he was nine years old. Bucky learned to love it, got real good too, and though he had no problem putting a bullet straight between someone’s eyes, it made his stomach churn to bring (Y/N) here, to put a weapon in her hands.

“Put these on.” He gave her a set of earmuffs, sporting a pair himself, and some eye glasses.

“Alright, if we’re gonna do this, you have to do everything I say, got it?” She nodded quickly.

“If you don’t, we leave immediately. This shit’s serious, (Y/N).” She nodded again, anticipation in her eyes.

“One foot forward, slight bend in your knees, arms straight but not locked.” Bucky maneuvered her body to the proper position, and hesitantly placed the gun in her hands, standing behind her, his own fingers curling around hers.

“You only put your finger on the trigger when you want to fire, none of this Hollywood bullshit.”

“Okay, Bucky.” She shuddered as he molded himself to her form. She was going to regret this.

“Close one eye, look through these two ridges on the gun to line up your shot, breath out, and fire.”

Her body started to shiver as she realized that she was actually about to shoot a weapon, that paired with the sobering touch of Bucky Barnes, was enough to send her into cardiac arrest. She felt the heat coming off of him, and if she leaned in a little more, she was sure that she would feel the hard muscles of his chest, and that was just not something one should be thinking about when in charge of a loaded gun. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and re-opened them, trying to get her bearings back, focused on the target down the lane. She followed his instructions, trying to remember what he said, her finger moved to the trigger, but as she fired the gun, her muscles tensed up, she blinked, and was pushed back into him, earning a quiet grunt from the man as he held her steady.

“Not bad, but don’t fight that recoil doll, just let it happen. Your body will absorb it,” he explained.

“Sorry, it just scared me,” she let out a nervous laugh.

“No need to be afraid, I've got you,” Bucky mumbled into her ear.

“O-okay.”

After a few more rounds, she built her confidence up, her body relaxed, and her shots became better, eventually standing by, letting her fire it by herself. When she got a perfect bulls-eye, (Y/N) turned to give him a wide grin and he couldn’t help but return it, her excited giggle carried across the range. Bucky was a busy man, so spending such intimate time together was a rarity, and he wanted to soak this up while it lasted. (Y/N) was his favorite company, she told it like it was, and she didn’t back down from him. He loved her bullheaded self, even if sometimes it pissed him off.

“Oh my god, how do you hold this thing, it’s so heavy!” She whined.

“You asked for it,” he snorted, crossing his arms. Oh, he was going to enjoy this. After another moment of struggle, he came to her aid, slipped his arms around her, and pulled the rifle to its proper position.

“Alright, it’s not on automatic right now, so just like we practiced.”

She exhaled, her eye closed, the shot lined up, and arms shaking from the unfamiliar weight. Bucky prepared himself as the recoil would be much higher on this one, ready to take the brunt of it. With a few more deep breaths, she pressed the trigger, a loud bang reverberating off of the walls, and suddenly, everything changed.

(Y/N) saw red, crimson dripping down the paper sheet, the holes pooling with blood. She heard Bucky’s cries of agony, the low moan that got caught in his throat, deep coughs reverberating through his whole chest, the way he sucked in air, causing her to fear a punctured lung. She felt the vibration of the bullet firing through the barrel, on a path of destruction and death, one of her very own doing. She was in the halls of the hospital, the stench of sickness, the screams and shouts of pain piercing through her entire being. How could she?

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s-.”

The rifle clattered to the floor, the few other patrons looked at them with concern, her feet tripped over each other as she backed away from the lane, eyes wide and blank. She let out a shaky breath, hands beginning to tremble, the weight of everything bearing down on her.

“Doll, come back to me,” Bucky whispered, rushing over to her retreating form, holding her hands in his, finding her gaze.

“Shit, you’re freezing,” he gasped, rubbing his hands over hers. Bucky took in her appearance, the way she seemed to stare off at something unseen, her unresponsive expression, her empty eyes.

“Come on, we’re gonna go.”

Bucky put an arm around her shoulders, directed her towards the exit, and nodded at Jim before they left. He would take care of the mess they left behind. (Y/N)’s silence scared him, she was always a chatterbox, a livewire, so this sent warning signals all throughout his body. The wait for the car to come around was torturous, as all Bucky wanted was to get her home. (Y/N) was always taking care of them, taking care of him, but now that she was the one in the need, God he didn’t have a fucking clue. Once the sleek, black, Mercedez pulled up, Bucky nearly threw her in the backseat, yelling at the driver to take them home.

“Look at me,” Bucky spoke in an even tone, taking her hands in his again. (Y/N) met his eyes, the emotion coming through the shock, tears welling up, as she neared her breaking point.

“I-I-I,” she stuttered, her whole body shaking now.

“Calm down, i’m right here doll.” Bucky pulled her close, hands running up and down her back, attempting to create soothing patterns as she fell apart in front of him. (Y/N) was sobbing now, and she still didn’t know why. Sure, it was scary, but wasn’t this an overreaction? She shot a piece of paper, not a person, (Y/N) was no murderer.

“Guns, they-they kill people, Buck,” (Y/N) whispered. The only reason he could even hear her is because her head was tucked so neatly into his neck.

“Yeah, they do.”

“And I, I liked it.”

Bucky breathed out, pulling his right hand up to comb through her hair. He needed to get this under control before she really spiraled, but what could he do? Bucky wasn’t good with women, not in this way. He could sweet talk them, tell them how nice they looked, imply to heaven and back all the nasty things he’d like to do to them, and yet, when the waterworks started, the cat got his tongue. Whatever his dumb, boy brain thought to say, it always made the situation worse.

“How can I call myself a doctor? A healer?” (Y/N) pulled back from him, pushing her body against the door of the car.

“(Y/N), that doesn’t mean anything.” Bucky put his hands up in surrender.

“How do you do it?” (Y/N) stared at him, completely frozen.

“Do what?”

“How do you kill?” She breathed.

It was the words unsaid that she was truly asking, how did he kill and be okay with it? Why didn’t he come home crying when his gun was empty? She wanted, needed to know why she was an anomaly at the gun range, why she was crying and everyone else was fine. Bucky knew the answer, and he hated it, that it had always been the difference between them. She was still so innocent, while he had been born guilty, and nothing would change that.

They sat at the kitchen table, a bottle of wine between them, and a sacred moment of privacy. Bucky’s shoulder had healed over, a thin scar lining what used to be a gaping wound, another to add to his growing collection. (Y/N) ran her finger along the edge of the glass, a dumb smile on her face as she watched Bucky, blissfully teetering on the edge of being drunk, her heart full, though it had no reason to be. He was telling some story of a drug deal gone bad from a few years ago, and she was hanging onto every word. Bucky could read her a damn Cosmo magazine and she’d be sitting on the edge of her seat, acting as though his word was the next gospel. It was embarrassing, really, but she was too inebriated to know or to care, and Bucky was eating it up of course, the pig.

Bucky loved when he could captivate her like this, basking in the glow of her pretty smile, (Y/E/C) eyes giving him slow blinks. Bucky felt so warm under her gaze, he’d say just about anything she wanted to hear if it meant he could keep her in this state. (Y/N) rested her forearms on the table, but they were barely holding her up anymore, head beginning to tilt down, eyes fluttering shut.

“You gonna fall asleep on me, sugar?” He chuckled, his hand coming under her chin, pulling her jaw up.

“No way,” she sighed, settled on staring at him again, slowly sipping her wine, sending him happy little giggles.

“I’ve been hogging up all the airtime, tell me something I don’t know about you,” Bucky purred.

“Me?” (Y/N) gives an exaggerated expression, as if she’s never been asked about herself before. “Hm, that’s tough Buck, I feel like you know everything,” she sighed.

“Come on, must be somethin’,” he urged.

“Did I ever tell you the story of my first kiss?”

“Go on,” he cocked an eyebrow, full invested already.

“Well, buckle up,” she giggled. “Alright, so when I was a little girl, I was something of a man eater, if you can believe it,” (Y/N) claimed, leaning forward on her forearms again, Bucky absentmindedly mirroring her actions.

“I’m shocked, baby doll,” he smirked, already liking where this was going.

“So, in perfect, man eater fashion, when I found myself crushing on a boy in my class, I decided that I just had to have him,” she wiggled her brows for emphasis. “After school ended one day, I decided to make my move.”

Bucky leaned impossibly closer, slate blue eyes trained on her, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Behind my school, there was this ravine, and so, I told him to come down there with me. Once we got to the bottom, I pulled him in, and kissed him square on the lips!”

“And what did he have to say about that?” Bucky asked.

“He was in shock! Didn’t say a word,” (Y/N) stated, keeling over in laughter.

“How old were you?”

“I was five, maybe six.”

“What ever happened to her?” Bucky mused, picturing a young (Y/N), marching to the beat of her own drum, kissing boys without a care, certainly a different picture to the now reserved, hardworking woman he knew. Sure, she had her moments, but that’s all they were, glimmers of the girl she was, the one she had hidden away when things got tough and she had to grow up. Bucky realized that he probably had one of those too, deep down.

“What are you thinkin’ about, beautiful?” Bucky asked when he realized that she’d gone silent.

“I can’t tell you.” A curious look came to her face, which had Bucky tilting his head like a puppy.

“Why not?”

“It’s a secret.”

“You always tell me your secrets.”

“You’ll get mad.”

“No, I won’t.” He licked his lips, starting to get desperate. “Please baby doll?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “You’re lucky that you’re so damn pretty.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair at her compliment, falling out of its slicked back position from the long day. She took in a breath, closing her eyes, attempting to sober herself up enough to reveal her big secret to him. (Y/N) wasn’t quite sure how he’d take it honestly, and it had been weighing on her for a while now. So far, she had just been avoiding the topic entirely, though she knew that eventually she would have to breach the subject matter with him. Now was as good a time as ever, perhaps the alcohol would assist him in taking the news well.

“I’m thinking of finishing med school.”

“Pfft, yeah okay,” he chuckled. “And I'm gonna walk on the moon.”

“Buck, I'm serious,” she whimpered, her eyebrows knitting together. Out of all the possible responses, she hadn’t quite expected this from him.

“You won’t leave,” he smirked.

“Oh, and why not?” She challenged.

“Simple, you need me.”

“Excuse me?” He shrugged his shoulders in response, eyes trained on the wine glass in his hand as he took a sip.

“Who’s the one who patches you up every time a fight goes bad, huh? Who’s the one who has nursed you back from serious infection after getting caught on a rusted fence? Who was right by your side when you blacked out from a concussion, and never left, feeding you, giving you fucking sponge baths?” She was hysterical now, lips trembling, standing up from her chair as she tried to sound strong, intimating even.

“That’s your job, sweetheart,” he sneered.

“Fuck you!” She screamed. (Y/N) couldn’t bear to hear another word, storming away to go sleep off her impending hangover.

Part of her wanted Bucky to yell, to cry, to beg her to stay, to know that he wanted her around, that he cared. But the smarter part of her, tells her that this is exactly what she knew all along, the snarky bitch. Still, even if you know something is coming, even if you know it is true, it can still rip you apart. Bucky had heartlessly called her bluff, though maybe it’s what she needed. A nail in the coffin so she could let go, move on with her life.

Bucky staggered into the room, his footsteps heavy, breathing labored, slumping down onto the table without a single witty remark. (Y/N) turned to look at him, the hurt flashing across her face before she subdued it as always and got to work. Slipping plastic gloves over her fingers, she took his face in her hands, turning it over to see the damage better under the overhead light. The bruising was horrid, and with a ginger touch to the bridge, she could tell his nose was broken. A sly comment about his beauty being his only asset crossed her mind, but she quickly put the thought to bed. She couldn’t do the banter anymore, it overshadowed how she felt about all of it, how much it hurt her to see him like this.

Bucky leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as he exhaled, but all too soon she was gone, picking out various supplies to fix him. (Y/N) was silent, wiping the dried blood from his face, not a single word of praise as he gritted his teeth through resetting his nose, and she never met his gaze again. It terrified him. By now, she wouldn’t be able to help herself, the panic rising in her voice, the way her fingers would tremble over his wounds, but this woman was calm and collected. Sure, he wasn’t stabbed this time, but he saw himself in the rearview mirror on the way back, he knew it didn’t look pretty. (Y/N) seemed at peace, but she had no reason to be, at least, not one that he knew about.

His thoughts floated back to all of their previous arguments, and the question burned in his throat. He could never leave this life, but she could. After all this time, with how much it hurt her, why did she stay, why was she still here? He had to know.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, his voice low and raw. “Why stay?”

Her head tilted forward as she let out a sigh, hands shifting down to hold onto his shoulders, bearing her weight on him as if she suddenly felt faint. Bucky brought his hands to her waist, peering up at her, desperate for an answer, though he wasn’t sure he was ready to receive it. After another moment, she looked back at him, eyes rimmed in red, bottom lip trembling.

“Because I love you, James.”

He sighed, head dropping forward, resting his head on her stomach, arms circling her midsection. She can’t love him, she shouldn’t love him, yet he buries his face deeper, breathing her in. She has scrubbed the blood of dead men from him skin, she has sealed bullet holes, she has healed skin, bone, and muscle alike, and what has he done for her? Not a damn thing.

“I can’t be normal for you,” he mutters.

“I know, James.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I’m going back to med school,” she stated. “I already have the loan from the bank, my position in the class is secured, it’s done.”

James thinks that she must have stabbed him. He rushes to stand before her, taking her face in his hands, heart racing, the sound is deafening in his ears as he searches her face for a smile, the joke, the punchline.

“No, don’t leave me!”

“James, I can’t-”

“I know, but I can’t do this without you!”

Bucky is in full blown panic, desperate to tell her whatever she needs to hear, anything to keep her by his side. Bucky realizes now, he had taken her presence for granted, learned to expect her here, but the look on her face tells him that this is very real. (Y/N)’s leaving, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Bucky shuddered at the thought, his whole world shifting before him, and he’s stuck gasping for air, fighting to keep his sanity, yet he keeps coming up empty.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sobs. He’s been shot for before for Christ’s sake, and hasn’t shed a tear, but right now, he can’t help himself.

“What?” (Y/N) whispers, confusion flooding her face. She doesn’t get it, she doesn’t understand, he sees that now, and he wishes that she would stab him for how horrible he’s been. (Y/N) thinks it’s a one-way street, and it’s all his fault.

“I’m sorry that I let you think you don’t matter,” he breathes.

She can’t look him in the eyes, breaking his heart further. He really let this happen, stood idly by as she withered away, truly believing she was a placeholder, just a cog in the machine. He loaded that gun, he watched her stand on the edge, and he did nothing when she pulled the trigger. Even worse, he cheered her on, double dared her, told her she wouldn’t do it. Bucky wants her here, needs her to know how much he cares, but he’s already been so selfish. His head and his heart have waged war inside of him, and he doesn’t know what to do. He should let her go so she can continue on with her life, get out of this while she still can. Bucky doesn’t deserve her, not with the blood on his hands, yet it doesn’t make him want her any less. No, he wants her more, now he needs to make up for what he’s done.

“I have to go,” (Y/N) sniffles, so intent on keeping herself from him now, a death grip on those flood gates.

She takes his hands off of her, backing away, before turning to exit the room, leaving James all alone.

A year came and went. A year of last-minute study sessions, a year of laughter and tears, of shifts that seemed to go on forever, a steady stream of sneezing, coughing, wheezing, oozing, and bleeding patients. She had reached for the sun and came out on the other side, scorched but alive. (Y/N) resorted to fanning herself with her hand, it was mid-May and already the temperature was climbing high. Sitting back in the chair, her eyes scanned the crowd, squinting hard as she went through the endless faces, but came up empty. God, she wished they’d just get on with it. With a final round of applause, the ceremony came to an end, (Y/N) dashing off to find her sister. She was at their designated rendezvous spot, sitting on the edge of the fountain, sporting a wide grin as she stood to greet her.

“Dr. (Y/L/N), look at you!” She squealed, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thank you for being here,” (Y/N) sighed, her sister pulling back to look into her eyes.

“Of course, I'm here, you dummy,” She chided, picking up her purse to retrieve her phone. “Sit on the edge of the fountain, and hold up that degree!”

She began the unavoidable photo session, smiling wide for the camera, the edge of her maroon robe being rustled by the breeze. She held her grin through sore cheeks as her sister flitted back and forth, apparently trying to find the perfect lighting, the woman was insatiable. (Y/N) wanted to buy her a puppy just so she’d have something to photograph all damn day, perhaps letting her escape from the limelight. In all honesty though, she couldn’t complain. It had been a long journey, getting her sister to recognize her problem, then getting her to agree to rehab, getting through rehab, then acclimating to life again. It had been anything but easy, it still wasn’t easy, but she had her sister back, and now she was on the cusp of beginning her career as an official doctor. It felt good, it felt right.

“Alright, so I have the dinner reservation all set up for tonight,” she began, diving into the night she had planned. “Eddie is coming, and Selena was able to find a sitter so she’ll be there too! Brad sends his regards, but his mum is still sick so he wasn’t able to make the trip...”

(Y/N) couldn’t hear her sister’s voice anymore, it felt like she was underwater, insulated from the world as he came into view. He had no right to be here, no business coming out of the woodworks on her big day, and it was certainly rude to do it all while looking that damn good.

Bucky had matured, she could see it on him, it was in his face, in his eyes. Dark hair slicked back, freshly shaved face, a gentle smile on rosy lips, and those steel blue eyes, squinting in happiness, boring into her soul. He wore a navy suit, perfectly tailored to his form, hands in his pockets as he took tentative steps towards her. She couldn’t do this, not today, not ever. She had spent all this time working hard to forget him, to make something of herself, her life, and his presence was threatening that. (Y/N) wouldn’t let him break her again.

“Would you give me a minute alone?” She asked, rising to her feet, putting her freshly earned degree into her sisters' hands.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she looked between the two, sensing the tension and deciding to leave them alone. (Y/N) gathered all of her courage before James’s gaze chased it away and stalked up to the man, pointing a finger right at his chest.

“You have some nerve coming here,” she snapped, her anger met with quiet adoration as he gazed down at her.

“Dr. (Y/L/N),” he sighed. “It suits you.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” She warned, her hands pulling into fists at her sides.

“To see you graduate,” he smiled, his hands coming out from behind him, a bouquet of fresh red roses.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she gaped at him. “What, a handsome face, some nice words, flowers, and then everything goes back to the way it was?”

“I’ve come here seeking nothing, (Y/N),” Bucky stated calmly, cradling the roses in his arms.

“Then why? Why are you here?” She demanded, the anger morphing to desperation in her eyes. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he exhaled, shifting on his feet. When he looked back at her, his tongue darted out to lick his lips, his heart trying to claw its way out of his chest.

“Because I love you.”

She scoffed.

“I can’t do this with you, not again,” she looked to the side, crossing her arms. (Y/N) was trying to stay strong, though she always felt as that he could see right through her, naked under his gaze, it was infuriating. His calm demeanor only made it worse. She wanted to gain the upper hand, get him angry, because when Bucky was angry, he became stupid, but he just wouldn’t give it to her.

“I’m not asking you to.” His voice is quiet, Bucky’s eyes pleading with her to understand. He hasn’t come her to start war, but to make peace. Her apprehension, her suspicion cut right through him, but he understood her reasoning. It was his fault, he was only reaping what he sowed.

(Y/N) watched him for a moment, scrutinizing him, sizing him up as if she was about to jump him. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised, she was a fiery one, but he let her have it. She deserved all the time in the world to be angry with him, even though it was killing him. She furrowed her brow, something coming across her mind, then her eyes went wide, realization washing over her.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re the one, aren’t you?”

“What?” He asked hastily, worried for what he was being accused of.

“You paid off my loan, didn’t you?” She asked, her voice louder this time as the pieces came together.

“Ah,” he gave a nervous laugh. “Guilty.”

“James,” she breathed. “T-that was, the whole thing, it was over two hundred – oh my God.”

“(Y/N), you deserve every penny,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her calm.

Her hands covered her mouth, eyes darting around as she took in the shocking revelation. Her breath hitched, her arms started to shake, how could he? Why did he?

“I don’t deserve to ask anything of you, so I haven’t come here to do that,” he spoke softly, low voice rumbling in his chest.

“But I am selfish, I wanted to see you,” the corners of his mouth pulling up, as the hand from her shoulder travels to ghost along her cheek.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that before,” he looks down, regret written all over him.

“I’m so proud of you, (Y/N),” he puts a new smile on, though she sees him cracking underneath as he takes her hand to his lips. “I truly am.”

Bucky places the bouquet in her hands, one last look and turns to leave. He doesn’t want to, he never did, but it’s not his right to stay, to intrude on her life any more than he already has. Bucky hates that he has to do this, to let her go, but he hates himself more for hurting her in the first place. He lets out a shaky breath, one he feels as though he’s been holding in since he first caught her eyes, watching as her face morphed into one of anger and disgust. He deserved that, he really did, but it still hurt. She had never looked at him that way before.

“James!” He shudders at the sound his name from her lips, turning to look over his shoulder. She’s running to him, and he feels as though the wind has been knocked clean out of his lungs.

“Doll?” He lets the pet name slip through his teeth.

“Um, my sister and I are going out for dinner with some friends, to celebrate.” She looks nervous, as if she’s a school girl asking someone to prom. The woman who just graduated medical school can’t even look him in the eyes and he feels his heart ache, full with love.

“You’ll join us, won’t you?” When she finally meets his gaze with that hopeful look, how could Bucky ever say no?

“Anything for you, doll.”

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #Winter Soldier #Avengers #reader insert #modern au #mafia #mob #elles1kwritingchallenge

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igottheissue · 5 years

Text

This Time Around 7

A strange woman Bucky is sure he knows but can’t fully recognize, picks him up after the fall of SHIELD. She claims to be friends with Steve and that she is here to help him. He can’t help but keep wondering where he knows her from; it’s definitely not through Steve Rogers. Can she help him be the man he wants to be or will the all too familiar struggles of being a super human overcome him?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OC Rowan O’Connor Word Count: 4,344 Rating: M Masterlist Chapter 6 Chapter 8 Taglist: @xmarveled @spidey-the-killer-queen

Rowan quickly typed out a short message to let Bucky know what was happening and her estimated arrival back to Nagano. She had left him a little over two weeks ago, against her better judgement. He seemed to be doing alright; lightly teasing her about neglecting him and not bringing him along to play with the bad guys. He didn’t have a sparring partner since she’d split a couple days after they’d landed.

“Who ya talking to with that smile on your face?” Sam leaned over the space between his co-pilot seat and Rowan’s own seat in the quinjet. They were headed back to the compound from Hotel Mahayid.

“None of your business, Mr. Murtough.” Rowan teased Sam with his undercover name he’d used to sign up with the Hotel to gain entry. The team decided to send Sam in undercover for a recon mission. He was practically unknown in this area of the world. Steve and Natasha were too well known around the bad-guy neighborhoods at the moment, and Rowan was too close to Rumlow if he was up and moving around in the Hotel.

“Awe come on Rowan, we’ve been on a mission together. We’re practically besties now.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Those big brown eyes aren’t going to help. I’ve had a lot of time to practice ignoring the puppy-dog look. Just ask Tony.” Sam huffed and crossed his arms over his chest playfully.

“Not even a little hint. I did get some good info for you guys this week. What about his initials?”

“How do you know it’s a ‘him’? It could be a woman.”

“You don’t strike me as a double agent, O’Connor.”

“Never know Sammy boy.” The two pilots laughed light-heartedly as the quinjet raced across the vast expanse of ocean. Rowan excused herself from the cockpit after she put the jet on autopilot to the Compound. Sam nodded as he leaned back and put his hands behind his neck.

“I’ll just be here, listening to sad music, feeling sorry for myself that you don’t wanna spend time with the coolest Avenger.” Rowan didn’t stop heading for the pullout cot towards the rear of the jet as she responded in a light tone,

“Oh come on Sam, we all know Thor’s the coolest.” Sam only laughed in response before the music turned up a few notches and Rowan shed her quarter zip jumper and boots before settling into the surprisingly comfortable cot. They still had around five hours of flight time before they hit New York.

She opened her encrypted phone and went through her messages once more, re-reading the messages Bucky had sent to her. She didn’t have time to read them earlier, and had sent Bucky a quick update letting him know she’d get back to them and respond post haste when she could get away from the Avengers prying eyes and ears. He’d sent a jumbled text about how he met some people in the small suburb of Nagano, and quickly learned he spoke fluent Japanese.

Rowan hadn’t been surprised, but Bucky was startled to say the least when an old woman had asked him where his wife was and he’d not only understood her, but had answered back without thinking in a flawless dialect. Rowan laughed to herself before asking Bucky what he’d told the woman about his wife being gone, since their cover was that they were spending their honeymoon in Nagano.

Told her you had to rush back to work. She offered to introduce me to her youngest daughter. Apparently she wouldn’t leave me for a job. – B

Being a fancy LA lawyer is very demanding. How else would I be able to leave you in Japan for two weeks until I can rejoin you? – R

Speaking of… How did everything go? – B

It went. We land in less than five hours. I plan to be headed back to you in less than six. I told the team I’ve gotta help a friend in Rwanda. – R

You and your friends. – B

Rowan smirked and put her phone in her pocket. She would update Bucky in person about the mission with Sam. Being apart from Bucky and only communicating through text was kind of nice, Rowan had to admit. It helped the awkward tension ebb away a little quicker. Bucky was opening up, she dared say.

He hadn’t had any more memory breaks, but he was talking with her about all the TV shows and movies he had been binging while Rowan was gone. She figured it was easier for Bucky to type stuff out than make eye contact, which was how she was handling getting along with him.

Sometimes she felt like she could be interacting with him better, but had to keep reminding herself that she took years to get back to herself, or at least as close to herself as she thought she was. Bucky at least had someone he could go back to in a sense. He would never be the old Bucky from the forties but those memories he’d regain would help shape the new Bucky.

-TTA-

After a quick debriefing at the Avengers Compound, Rowan said goodbye to everyone and tried to make her way as inconspicuously as possible to the hangar to board one of Tony’s private jets that’d take her back to Nagano Airport. She heard Steve jogging up the hallway and tried not to tense up.

“Rowan! Hey Rowan, wait up.” Rowan closed her eyes and sighed before turning around to face Steve. He was dressed similarly to her—Avengers logo’d long sleeve tee and well fitted joggers with black Brooks. Both of their respective uniforms were dirty enough to warrant a hasty change before the debriefing.

“What’s up Rogers?” Steve held eye contact for a beat before he lowered his chin and looked towards his shoes. Rowan tried not to hold her breath; she had a feeling she knew where Steve was headed.

“Listen, Rowan, please just let me know that he’s okay at least. I’ve done everything but get on my knees and beg.”

“Wouldn’t mind you on your knees, Cap.”

“O’Connor, this isn’t the time for one of your quips to try and get me to back off.” Rowan looked up at Steve when he raised his gaze from his shoes to her face. He wasn’t flushed like he usually was when she cracked a joke to mess with him. She held her gaze and blinked lightly, trying to come off as bored and unbothered by his pressing the matter of Bucky.

“Listen Steve, I’ve told you if I found anything, you’d be the first to know.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when you guys left Bucktown and disappeared? Huh? Because it seems to me that you and I have a different definition of letting me know when you find my best friend.”

“Ouch, how would Sam feel about you leaving him for Bucky?” Steve puffed his chest, face getting red with anger. He crossed his arms tightly, fabric of his shirt stretching almost painfully looking across his taught muscles.

“Damnit Rowan! I know it was you two in Bucktown! Natasha told me about your Chechnya accident; your leg gave it away. Please. Just… If you won’t tell me where he is or bring him in then… Just let me know he’s okay. He’s my best friend.” Rowan took a few breaths and cocked her hip before replying to Steve.

“Steve, I—“

“Rowan, listen, I talked to Nat about what he might be going through… As much as it stings, I get if he doesn’t want to come home; that he might not really be himself. Or—or even remember who he used to be. I won’t bug you about him anymore. I just want to know he’s okay and that he’s on the road to recovery.

“I trust you with him. I mean—yeah I’d like for it to be me out there helping him out, but I can understand why you might be the better option. So just keep him safe for me? And I’ll keep my door open for whenever you guys are ready to come home. This is your home Rowan, got it? You’re always welcome here.”

Rowan knew that if they knew half the shit she’s done she wouldn’t be wanted as much as Steve offered. She had promised that she wouldn’t tell Steve that she knew where Bucky was or if she was with him. But… it warmed a spot in her chest hearing Steve say with absolute conviction that she had a home with them, and that he trusted her to help Bucky.

Steve sighed with a small smirk on his face when Rowan mimicked a salute before nodding and mockingly calling behind her an ‘Aye aye Cap!’ That was probably the closest he was going to get to her telling him that she knew where Bucky was and that she would take care of him. Rowan kept her head down the rest of the walk to the jet. She barely nodded to the pilots when she boarded the jet, and tried not to think about how lucky Bucky was to have someone care that much about him.

She wondered if she’d ever feel that way about someone. She had Nat, but she knew if Nat couldn’t get herself out of a situation, it was low odds Rowan would be able to help her. She tried mentally shook her head and sent a quick text to Bucky before the jet left the runway. Once he responded with a sarcastic ‘finally’, Rowan shut off her phone and fell into a fitful sleep.

-TTA-

The sky was dark and stormy when Bucky met Rowan at the front gate of the safe house. It had taken her a few days of travel to make it back. She had landed in Rwanda and chartered a few other planes and busses before making it safely back to Nagano. Bucky held the gate open and quickly scanned the empty street before closing it behind Rowan as she brushed by him.

“So, how’d it go? Did anyone find out anything?” Rowan took a moment to pull off her rain jacket and sit down at the dining room table. Bucky stood with his hip slightly cocked and arms crossed over his thick chest. Rowan admired the hard lines of his shoulders before meeting his eyes and sighing slightly.

“They know something. Not sure what exactly. They saw us before we left Chicago but lost us shortly after. They don’t know where we are. Steve kept prying at me until he eventually just accepted that I wasn’t going to tell him definitively whether you were with me or not, so he just asked that I take care of you and to come home whenever you’re ready. Apparently we’re honorary members of the Avengers now.” Bucky blew air out his nose and let his lips raise in a small smile.

Rowan almost saw the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Bucky moved over to the teapot that was steaming on the stove and poured it in two coffee cups. Handing one to Rowan, he sat down across from her on rested his elbows on the glass table.

“So what do you think we should do? Continue to Constanta? Or reroute?” Rowan took a slow sip of her tea, thinking hard about what their next move should be.

“I suggest we head to Constanta, Tony has a house there and he’s fine with me using it.”

“He’s okay with you harboring one of the world’s most dangerous assassins? The one who murdered his parents?” Bucky didn’t meet Rowan in the eyes as he spoke his last sentence. He cleared his throat as Rowan waited for him to meet her dark eyes.

“He doesn’t… know about that.” It was Rowan’s turn to break eye contact.

“Yet. I totally planned on telling him and I… I couldn’t bring myself to do it right now. I know that’s a safe place for us to go. He won’t tell anyone if we use his properties. When the timing’s right, I’ll tell Tony. Are you okay with us going there? Or do you think we should relocate somewhere else?” Bucky wanted to tell Rowan about his nightmares that he’d had when she’d been away with Steve.

The flood of memories they brought back made his head ache and eyes burn with unshed tears as he remembered the broken screams and sharp inhales that Tony’s mother had taken in her last few moments of life. He remembered the blood spattering across his face as he shot Howard.

“Bucky? Are you alright? Have you remembered something?” Rowan had sat up a bit straighter in her chair as she looked expectantly toward Bucky.

“Not right now, but… While you were gone. I was going over our travel plans in the back garden and – I don’t know, something about thinking of Tony triggered my memory of the night I murdered his parents. It was horrible, Rowan.” Bucky cleared his throat before continuing; Rowan waited patiently, knowing she didn’t really have anything to say anyway. Bucky appreciated her silence and understanding gaze.

“I’d feel a bit more comfortable if we reroute, at least for a little while until these memories aren’t so fresh… Is that okay?”

“Yeah, totally! There was about three months where I couldn’t go anywhere near New York after I regained my memories from nine eleven.”

“What is nine eleven?”

“How about we make some more tea and get supper started before I go into that?” Rowan and Bucky shared a smile as they stood and moved around the small kitchen to prepare supper.

-TTA-

Rowan felt herself relax, listening to the rain pitter-patter softly against the old windows as she set the small kitchen table. She could hear Bucky over the loud droplets finishing up supper. Over the past three months the two super soldiers had been lying low in a smaller suburb of Prague.

The older townhouse had been in one of Rowan’s cover names for a few years. She had purchased it shortly after Natasha had given her free reign once she was cleared by SHIELD’s medical team to travel alone. Nat didn’t know about it, and that made both Bucky and Rowan feel a bit more comfortable about staying for a longer period of time.

They had fallen into a comfortable routine; on Tuesdays they’d visit the farmer’s market, Fridays the grocery store for things they couldn’t find at the market, Rowan usually visited the local library and movie store every Saturday, and the old hole-in-the-wall gym was visited every day but Sunday.

Bucky was averaging memory breakthroughs about two to three times a week, depending on the activities Rowan dragged him along. Though much to Bucky’s annoyance he didn’t think he hated the outings Rowan took him on. He was starting to feel more normal. He liked the domesticity they’d found.

Though neither could fix their constant surveillance—not that they really wanted to—Bucky admired that they seemed to fit in within the small suburb. Mostly older folks who kept to themselves; every once in a while Bucky would get caught up in conversation with someone while he was tending to the small windowsill herb and flower boxes that Rowan insisted he grow. He would never admit he enjoyed the brightly painted sill boxes.

There was radio silence from the Avengers. Rowan didn’t mind. She had texted back and forth a bit with Nat and Sam, catching up on training shenanigans they had been going through with the left over SHIELD agents. The Avengers Compound was hosting a rotation of Military divisions with hopes to help the loyal SHIELD agents to new homes in similar jobs to when they had been employed with SHIELD. Tony jokingly referred to it as his way of wiping out his own red ledger.

“Need any help Barnes?” Rowan had resorted to calling Bucky by his last name after the visit to their gym. He had started getting used to his metal arm so he wasn’t as worried about using it to its full potential while sparring anymore. Needless to say he’d kicked her ass tonight, and she was sore. He smirked and held out a knife for her.

“Sure, Rowan, how nice of you to ask. You can dice up this onion to sauté for me.” Rowan rolled her eyes but grabbed the knife anyway and started dicing.

“You’re lucky you make bomb ass food, Barnes.”

“A good husband should be able to cook a decent meal for his wife every once in a while.” Rowan smiled softly, that was their cover after all, and they often joked about it while out and about in public. She glanced sideways as Bucky flipped the steaks over. His brow was heavy, and she noticed his shoulders tense up a fraction before Bucky lost his breath and dropped the spatula.

“Barnes? Bucky, hey, what’s happening. You okay? Another memory?” Rowan was speaking rapidly; Bucky had been having pretty regular breakthroughs, but usually he’d just rub his temple, shut his eyes, and breathe for a few moments before regaining his composure. Rowan could tell this was quickly turning into a more serious recall. She set her knife down and turned towards the dark haired man fully. She kept her arms at her sides—slightly bent, as were her legs—ready to move if need be.

Bucky hadn’t said a word since his whispered sentence. Just stood with his eyes looking at the steak as it burned. It was like he was frozen. His mind raced at a million miles a second, but his body couldn’t keep up. The memories whizzing across his mind made his head hurt and breath hitch. It was too much. His most recent memories hadn’t come through like this lately. Flashes of a woman—taller than him—helping him smash potatoes.

‘A good husband should be able to cook a decent meal for his wife every once in a while.’

‘You’ll make some lucky woman very happy in the future, Bucky, I just know it.’

‘You’ll be the best husband in Brooklyn.’

The words flashed through his mind and glimpses of the kind, older woman helping him chop and stir and bake food pressed against the front of his head painfully.

Rowan had watched Bucky struggle to breathe for about three minutes before touching his shoulder. She knew this was not a good idea, but his face was turning slightly blue and her steak was beginning to burn. Before she knew it that silver arm had grabbed her dicing knife and swung at her abdomen. Thanks to her ass-whooping by that same arm earlier in the day, her reflexes weren’t as quick as normal.

Rowan cursed her bruised ribs for hindering herself from moving out of the way quick enough. The knife had sliced a sizeable gash in her side; it missed all her organs but still stung like a mother fucker. Thankfully the blood splatter seemed to knock Bucky out of his head enough to pull away before Rowan’s closed fist met his bearded cheek.

“Oh my god Rowan I’m so sorry.” Bucky dropped the knife and grabbed Rowan as she slid down the cabinets to the floor.

“It’s fine.” Bucky reached for the dish towel resting on the counter and pressed it against the bleeding gash on Rowan’s side. He didn’t want to hold the towel to her side; he wanted to go jump off a fucking bridge.

“No it’s not. Look what I did. You’re bleeding.”

“You’ve done much worse to me in the past Bucky. I promise, I’m fine. Go get the first aid bag out of the bathroom.” Bucky gently replaced his shaky hands with Rowan’s own and rushed to the small bathroom. When he returned, Rowan had pulled her tank top off and was sitting with her ankles crossed on the counter. The stove had been turned off.

Bucky gulped and averted his eyes away from her sports bra as he got out the supplies so he could stitch her side up. The bleeding had subsided for the most part, but stitches would still help. He couldn’t bring himself to speak while he threaded the needle.

Rowan focused hard at the crease between Bucky’s eyebrows as he threaded a little too deep through the fat of her side. She wasn’t mad at him—how could she be? Had she not done the same thing—worse things—to Natasha and innocent people while she was still healing? In all reality it’d only been about five months since Bucky had been out of HYDRA’s grasp.

Relatively speaking he was recovering far quicker than she had anticipated. The shaking of his hands and deafening silence told Rowan that Bucky was mad at himself and probably still didn’t accept that what’d he’d done was completely normal for this completely abnormal situation.

“I have this dream—nightmare, really—that Nat and I are on this train going through the Ireland countryside… It’s a beautiful day, there’s children running up and down the aisle way and the conductor is giving some commentary on the different castles we pass. So we’re going along and all of a sudden I look out and on this far away hill is a small castle. And I can’t remember the name but I know with absolute certainty I’ve been there before. And then there are flashes of a man and woman, they’re kind of sickly looking. But they’re smiling. They’re always smiling down at me. And we’re in this castle.

“Then the next thing I can remember my face is covered in blood. There’s a man’s arm in my hand, only he’s five seats down. There’s a window busted open, rain is pouring in and people are crying and screaming. I don’t know what happened. I felt—like I was being electrocuted… It… I don’t know. It’s not even that I ripped some guys arm off. It was the rain that sticks out the most to me. It had been so clear and beautiful that day—odd for Ireland. And maybe I had blacked out for longer than I thought… I’m not sure.

“I’ve not told Nat about the dream. I’m… I’m scared as fuck Bucky. I’m scared because I think it might be an actual memory and not just a nightmare. Sometimes I can still feel the electricity coursing through my muscles like it did in the dream.” Rowan had been staring at the wrinkle in Bucky’s brow for so long she almost jumped when the crease disappeared and steel blue eyes blinked in front of her.

“You’re parents. Those sick people. That’s who you were at the castle with.”

“Yeah. Least I think so. I hope so. They looked like they loved me a lot.” Bucky didn’t say anything as he threw away the blood soaked towel and burnt steaks. He gathered up the medical supplies and returned them to the bathroom down the hall. He helped Rowan put her torn shirt back on and propped himself against the counter, looking down.

“You’re gonna hurt people Bucky. You’re human. Better me than some civilian. Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? That’s my job.” Rowan didn’t have to force the smile that came to her lips. Bucky smiled, but Rowan figured it was for a different reason.

“My mom. She taught me to cook. That’s… She used to tell me that to be a good husband I’d need to be able to cook for my wife. She taught me how to make a lot of things. It was… Nice. My dad wasn’t around whole lot.” Rowan put her hand on his shoulder without hesitation this time and Bucky appreciated the small gesture.

It reassured him that there was at least one person who wasn’t afraid of him. Rowan squeezed once before hopping off the counter and getting another pair of steaks out of the fridge. When she didn’t speak, Bucky took that as an invitation to continue.

“I guess these past few months of… Doing normal people things brought up the memory. Though I’m not sure why my reaction was so violent. I haven’t been that bad since the first month you found me” Bucky threw away the bloodied onion slices and grabbed another after he’d cleaned the counter top.

He let Rowan start the steaks this time. The oddness of the discussion they were having and the familiar motions they were going through didn’t pass by either of them unnoticed. It was weird.

“You have been doing really well. But a lot of your recent memories have been from not that long ago. The worst reactions I had were when I remembered things from before I was taken. It seems that’d be the same case for you. Cooking with your mother was before you were taken by HYDRA. There’s more shit to fight through to get to that memory. Makes sense.”

“Thanks, Rowan.”

“For what?”

“This… The whole domestic routine. It’s… nice. I know it won’t last very long. But I enjoy it. I feel bad sometimes because I can tell you don’t seem as relaxed with it as you could be. But I still appreciate it.” Rowan felt her stomach turn a little in a way that she did not like. But she didn’t stop the soft smile that turned her lips upward, or the soft nudge she gave Bucky as they domestically cooked supper together.

“No problem Bucky. And don’t go around getting a big head about it, but this domestic shit isn’t that bad with you.”

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