Zemo walked through the door, closing it behind him quietly. He searched for you quietly, aware you’d likely be asleep at this hour. He found you on the couch, where you had attempted to stay awake for him.
A yellow knitted throw blanket was wrapped around you, and you were half sitting up, having fallen asleep mid-episode of a sitcom.
Zemo smiled at you, amused by your sleeping figure. He shut off the television before picking you up, carrying you to bed so you could have a proper night's sleep.
His heart melted as you snuggled into his chest in your sleep, unconsciously recognizing the presence of your lover. He kissed your forehead, brushing stray hair from your face. He listened to your steady breathing, contently watching you sleep before drifting off himself.
“Good morning,” Zemo greeted you.
You were yawning as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes sleepily. You looked darling, and Zemo watched you in adoration.
“What’re you doing?” You slurred softly, still half-asleep.
“Making you breakfast, pretty girl.”
You leaned up on your toes for a kiss, being happily indulged by Zemo. He carefully hauled you backwards, away from the hot stove.
“I don’t want my little love to burn herself,” Zemo explained to you, making you roll your eyes at his tendency toward being over protective.
His large hand grasped your jaw, holding your head to look at him. He didn’t hurt you, only displaying his strong dominance by manhandling you gently. His grip was only tight enough to hold you, putting you in your place without being harsh.
“Cut the attitude,” Zemo warned softly before holding you still so he could press a firm kiss to your lips.
“Yes, daddy,” you murmured, feeling especially submissive. He’d been gone on a work trip recently, and you were happily well behaved, loving the way he indulged you in attention and doted on you upon his return.
“Go set the table,” he nodded, and you did as he asked.
“Why don’t you come back to bed with me?” Zemo asked, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
You nodded, gently laying a hand on his cheek and giving him sweet little kisses as you stood in the kitchen, the tile cold against your bare feet. He tapped your bum, signaling you to walk toward the bedroom.
Before you even made it there, Zemo was pulling your shirt over your head— one you had stolen from his side of the closet. Your breath hitched softly, your hands going to your chest to cover yourself as you walked through the house.
“No, my love, let me see your pretty tits,” he scolded, prying your hands away. You shivered, feeling a bit shy in front of him. You giggled as he mouthed at your chest, kneeling in front of you. The hair on his face tickled your skin, creating an odd sensation. He kissed down to your navel, kneeling before you in just loose gray sweatpants.
He hooked his fingers into your shorts, pulling them swiftly down your legs and tossing them aside. You were left in just your panties, barely covered by pale lilac fabric, plain except for a tiny bow sitting between your hips.
You were so innocent, and Zemo couldn’t get enough.
“Yours too?” You questioned, touching his waistband as he stood up.
“No, pretty girl, I’m going to leave mine on.” Zemo shook his head, sitting down on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. You stood beside the bed, unsure of what he wanted.
“Come here, why’re you being so shy?” He teased lightly, taking your hand and helping you onto the bed.
You were surprised as he pulled you to lay over his lap, your ass in the air as you bent over his thighs. Your arms folded under your head, and you turned to look up at him.
“Are you going to spank me, daddy?” You asked, a whine lilting your voice. You were startled, you’d been so well-behaved, and you didn’t feel like you deserved to be punished.
“No, of course not. I just want to play with you,” Zemo bent down and kissed your lips, easing the uncertainty in your mind.
“You need to relax.”
You nodded, exhaling a slow breath, trying to obey. The tension slowly left your muscles as he trailed fingertips up your bare spine, his touch finding the dips in your back. You gazed at him from under your lashes, admiring the gentle man who loved you. He smiled down at you, brown eyes locking with yours.
“I love these,” he mused, touching the lilac thong that curved along the swell of your ass.
You let him part your legs a bit, allowing him to see more of you. His strong hands squeezed the flesh of your thigh, pulling them apart on his lap.
Zemo couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. You felt him harden under your belly as he got a full view of your cunt practically spilling out of the thong. The fabric barely covered you, providing a filthy sight to Zemo.
His fingers dipped down, squeezing your puffy sex, cupping your mound and touching your lips. The action made you breathless, and he ran his fingers up and down the light cotton, until a dark patch started to form, your arousal soaking through your panties. He tugged up just slightly, monitoring your reaction at the pressure it put on your clit, the little bundle of nerves that was now throbbing with need.
You’d grown warm on his lap, despite being almost entirely naked. You felt observed, strangely aroused and overly shy as he practically inspected your pussy. You tried to swallow a small whine as the fabric pushed against your clit, biting back the noise.
“Daddy, why are you looking at me?” You whispered, squirming under his touch. You’d done your best to hold still and let him touch you as he pleased, but you were growing needy and embarrassed.
“Because you’re beautiful, little love. Do you want me to bring you pleasure? You’ve been so sweet, I do feel as though you’ve earned a reward,” he offered, the gentle gaze in his eyes completely sincere.
“A reward?” you questioned softly.
He hummed, nodding at you. You smiled shyly, lightly kicking your feet.
“You’re all wet, darling.”
You buried your face in your arms, sighing as Zemo ran his fingers over your sex before pulling the fabric down your legs. He prodded at your pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers and lightly pinching the puffy skin.
“Daddy, you’re teasing,” you accused, pouting a bit.
“What do you want?” He asked, a small smirk adorning his gorgeous features.
He wanted to hear you say it, trying to ease you out of your shyness.
“I want you to touch me properly, please,” you asked politely, pushing up on your hands to kiss him.
“I would be happy to, my love.”
You relaxed back on him, humming as he dragged his fingers through your folds, bringing them down to rub lazy circles on your clit. The small movements had heat spreading between your hips, tension starting to form.
Zemo eased off of the direct stimulation, pushing one of his longer fingers past your tight muscles, feeling your velvety walls swallow his digit. He slowly pumped it in and out, your body squeezing around him as he inserted a second finger.
He listened to the soft sigh that left your lips, morphing into a moan as he stroked forward, pressing against your g-spot. He relished in the mewels that escaped you, your back bowing as he rubbed your clit while moving his fingers inside of you, brushing sensitive areas that had you seeing stars.
“Oh... daddy,” you whined, the pressure tight in your abdomen, settled just above your sex. Your muscles contracted around his fingers, clamping down as goosebumps rose over your delicate skin.
“Are you close, darling?”
You nodded, unable to trust yourself not to scream if you tried to speak. You squirmed on his lap, your thighs shaking.
“Let go for me, pretty girl, I want to see you come all over my fingers,” Zemo encouraged, smirking as you squeezed your legs around his hands, trying to stop the stimulation as you came. Your fingers gripped the begging and you squealed, arching your back as you lit like a match, pleasure spreading through every inch of your body.
Zemo gently kept up his slow thrusts, his fingers dipping in and out of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it as long as possible.
The tension in your muscles faded with your release, leaving you relaxed and dazed. Calm settled over you, deep breaths making your back rise and fall.
“That’s my sweet girl, taking my fingers so well. You look so pretty when you come. I’m so proud of you.”
You glowed at his praise, savoring the gentle moment with your dom. He took the time to carefully clean you up before pulling you up to sit on his lap. Your fingertips ran through his facial hair, beaming as he gazed at you with his kind brown eyes.
He pulled you into a kiss, strong arms wrapping around your back and closing you against his chest. His lips moved against yours perfectly, Zemo an expert scholar in your body and your kisses. He swallowed your quiet, happy sighs, enjoying the intimacy.
“I love you,” Zemo spoke, a Sokovian accent lilting off of his words.
He was massaging lotion into your body after a shared shower, protecting your skin from the dry air. A cup of jasmine tea was in your hands, steaming and filling the room with a sweet scent, mixing with the smell of your lotion.
“I love you too. I’m really happy you’re home.”
“I won’t leave for that long again. I missed you, I’ll stay local from now on,” he said, surprising you.
“You’re staying local? But you’ve always traveled with work,” you questioned, thinking you misunderstood.
“I have, but you’re everything to me, and I can’t stand to be apart from you.”
He melted at the grin that spread across your face, your joyful kiss tasting like jasmine. You leaned back into his chest, his arms snaking around you to hold you in a tight hug.
“I can’t imagine anything better than waking up to you every morning. So that is what I plan to do, as long as you let me,” Zemo said.
Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader
Y/N remembers the quick and hurried road trip that Steve, Bucky, Sam, and herself all took when they were on the run in Europe. It wasn’t necessarily a fun memory, but it did bring back some fun memories from her childhood.
“Oh, c’mon guys. It’ll be fun, I promise. We can go anywhere.” Y/N pleaded to her friends and co-workers.
“Anywhere?” Bucky asked looking up from his cup of coffee.
Y/N finally coerced her guys into giving in to her summer plans. They each picked a place they wanted to go, then figure out the routes and details from that point. Steve wanted to go to Colorado, where Bucky always dreamed of Texas. Sam’s from Louisiana, so naturally, he would choose somewhere north, like Chicago. Y/N chose Charleston to represent the history she loves.
“Charleston? Why?” Sam asked.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to see where Steve and Bucky fought. Cause you know, they’re ancient.” Sam laughed with Y/N as they were chased down by the two super soldiers.
Traveling with her three boys were fun. Coming from the Avengers Base in upstate New York, the gang decided going west, traveling down south, then back up the east coast.
They chose to go the route through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois to reach Chicago. After that, continuing through Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, and finally Colorado. Next, Colorado, New Mexico, Texas to come into the state. Next, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina to get to Charleston. Lastly, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and back home in New York. Stopping at Chicago first, Sam loved every minute of it. Taking photos at Millenial Park and the Cloud Gate made all the difference to a deep southerner. Steve loved Colorado, wanting to see the mountains. Camping was an experience to remember. Texas was next and it was simple and southern. Sweet tea, farming, and brisket was Bucky’s ideal fun. Charleston came last, but it was the most fun Y/N had had the entire trip. Pure enjoyment of the historical and eatery there was. The being on the water and feeling the southern charm brought Y/N back to her childhood. It tooka total of 8 weeks to get around the United States, but they wouldn’t trade it for anything different.
“This trip is one to remember. I am blessed to have you three in my life.” Steve said, laying in the grass watching the stars.
“I don’t think I’ve seen this much of our country.” Bucky commented.
“Nice job kiddo.” Sam patted her knee.
No matter where your job took you, where your friends chose to be; Y/N knew that she was home with her three boys, Steve, Bucky, and Sam.
Chris Evans imagine: the reader and Chris get ready for a dinner party and Chris can’t take his eyes of her she is wearing white and he can’t wait to make her his wife so she can wear a white wedding dress😭
NONNIE STAWP I CANT TAKE THIS
join the sleep over!
pairing: chris evans x reader
rating/warnings: none, it's just tooth rotting fluff
Love her in White
Lisa had invited you and Chris to a family bbq. You were honored that they all considered you family. You had confided to Chris about it and he said "You goof, why wouldn't they think of you as family? They adore you!"
You got ready at your apartment, seeing as that you and Chris didn't live together, as your phone dinged signalling that Chris had texted. You told Chris not to worry about driving you, you knew he'd want to stay late to be with his family, and you didn't want to intrude on that.
You slipped on your white sundress, and did some light makeup, comsidering it was sweltering outside and you would sweat it off anyway. You've met Chris's family before but, for some reason you were more nervous than the last time. You checked your phone and saw that you had 30 min to get to Lisa's house so, you rushed down stairs, grabbed your keys and sprinted out to your car.
"Where is she?" Scott asked. To be honest, he didn't know. He turned on his phone to see that he had no text, or calls from you.
"Maybe she's driving?" It came out as a question instead of an answer. I sat with a beer in my hand, wathcing my sisters and their spouses interact, and laugh with their kids. He’d hope he could have that with you one day.
At that, you waked through his mothers back door looking as beautiful as ever. Everyone cheered for you, and waved you over to say hi. All his nieces and nephews ran and hugged your legs, all wanting your undivided attention, in which you gave. His heart sped up at the sight, you were a natural with kids and that just made him-
“Dude will you stop staring, I can feel the sexual tension from here.” His ears turned pink. He couldn’t stop looking at you, dreaming and hoping. He watched your every move, when you bent down to talk to the little people, the way your hair swayed when you laughed, or the way your sweet lips would smile. That white sundress made him think about what you might look like in a wedding dress. Walking down the isle to him, looking like the true goddess you are.
You looked over to Chris and gave him a smile, and waved. “Sorry man, I just love her in white.” Chris hoped Scott would catch on to what he was saying. He fiddled with the little box that sat in his right pocket, returning your smile, knowing you had no idea what was about to hit you.
a/n: I hope you like this, this idea literally made me *squeeeeeaaaa*
Pairing: James Bucky Barnes/ Original Female Character.
Important Tags/Genre: AU-canon divergent, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Relationship, Depictions of Violence, Fluff, Angst.
Word Count: 2338
Summary: He is decommissioned; more out of a personal choice than from outside pressure. James wants nothing more than to live simply---considering the over complications and trauma of his one hundred and six years of existence. So, he leaves New York and settles in a small town off the coast of Maine.
And that’s when he meets her. An odd little bartender by the name of Honey. And that's when his life once again faces complications.
Notes: This is entirely self-indulgent; lots of fluff, angst, and an eventual relationship based loosely around the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. This is meant to be a OC type of thing but can be considered a Black!reader insert I'd say.
I don't edit too hard, so excuse any minor mistakes!
Updates once a week; also found on my A03 | Spotify Playlist ( updated occasionally )
FATWS Blurb inspired by a TikTok - x gender neutral!reader [@_lets_do_get_help_]
Description: I saw this TikTok and just turned it into a short blurb. You, Bucky, and Sam all reluctantly deciding to get into the truck with John Walker and Battlestar Galactica because, unfortunately, they’re right. There’s no point in walking all the way to airport.
POMF’s Note: All credit goes to TikTok creator.
As you’re all sitting in the truck, unable to take Caprisun Armadillo and his sidekick seriously, you clear your throat and say, “This is kinda loose, no?” referring to the seatbelt.
Bucky mumbles out a gruff laugh as Sam nods, “Yep.” a smile threatening to break out across his face.
Turning to Walker he says, “Kinda like the bags under your eyes.”
John just pointedly glares at Sam as the trio laughs, desperately trying to hold it in by covering their mouths with their hands. Bucky licks his lips in an effort to stop smiling.
“Sorry we’ll shut up.” You quickly say with a straight face. Sam tries to swallow his laughs to calm himself for a brief moment. Only a beat goes by before you break it.
“Well that was long enough.”
Sam starts wheeze laughing, him and Bucky are losing it.
“I was wondering, how do you get your hair to look like that?” Bucky asks Walker with a stoic expression.
All you can do is mutter with a quieted chuckle, “Bucky—,” nearly losing it yourself.
John rolls his eyes, taking a turn to glare at each one of you before responding, “It’s natural.”
Before he can even finish his sentence, you and Bucky are breaking out into a fit of laughs again.
Sam, also laughing, nods in faux interest, “Really?” Which causes Bucky to laugh out loud again.
You jump in, “Well, your hair looks...um...” you pause as the need to laugh comes over you. Bucky fills in the rest of your sentence. “Well it looks dead.”
You and Sam are now wheezing laughing, having to sit forward in your seats as the laughter makes you bend forward it’s so strong. Bucky joins in before looking back up at John all serious-like.
“I guess what’s on the inside is showing on the outside, right?” This only eggs on the wheezing coming from you and Sam who are now slapping each other on the arm, so out of breath from laughing.
“Bucky, stop! I’m dying!” Sam manages to get out through his breathy laughs, the three of you clutching your stomaches and you wiping away tears from laughing so hard.
Walker just glances at Lamar before looking down at his feet, now wondering why he offered the three idiots a ride.
You nod reassuringly, John meeting your eyes. “It’s a look.” You offer nicely.
John doesn’t move, obviously he doesn’t believe your words. “You pull it off.” Sam encourages.
You bite your lip already thinking about what you’re going to say next. “No really, pull it off!” And the three of you lose it all over again, John and Lamar just avoiding the trio’s eyes as much as possible.
I don’t know guys. I just thought it was funny okay? It’s funnier in the video but I needed to share it with y’all.
“You think you’re something, no?” The mocking laughter was dripping in cruelty.
You bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood. Your eyes stayed trained on a crack in the floor a few feet ahead of where you were kneeling on cold cement.
You didn’t react when a hand cracked across your face, knocking you to the side, trying to pull an answer out of you.
“They’ll come for me. The avengers won’t leave me, they’ll come back for me!” You spat, looking up into cold brown eyes. They were empty, soulless in fact. His gaze iced your soul, sending a chill down your spine.
“My darling, not even god himself can save you now,” he sneered.
“You’ll join us, Y/N. You’ll become well acquainted with your villains when you realize there’s no other option.”
You should your head, screaming against the gag that was shoved in your mouth, silencing your vengeful yells.
. . .
Months. You had been abandoned for months.
After being abducted on a mission in Sokovia, your team had never returned for you. Or if they had, they never found you.
You’d been locked in a cold, cement chamber. You were left alone, only fed and given water as little as necessary.
Helmut Zemo was determined to break you.
. . .
Three months later, the door opened, light pouring onto the cement floor.
“Submit to me, and I’ll let you out of this cage,” Zemo knelt down, his thin lips curving into a lopsided smile.
“You’ve spent months here in this filth. Don’t you want to be cleaned up and fed and doted on? You are so pointlessly resistant.”
“Please get me out of here,” you begged weakly.
All of your resolve had crumbled. Your team never saved you, and you were all out of options. The only thing standing between you and getting out of this cell was your own stubbornness, and you were ready to give it up.
You felt like your mind was fracturing, and you were left numb, pliant for the sadistic baron. You decided you didn’t care what “submit to me” meant— as anything would be better than your current situation.
A leather-gloved hand was held out to you as chains were removed from your wrists. You hesitated before taking it, letting the baron pull you to your feet.
That was the first time you realized how much bigger Zemo was than you. He was tall, broad, and strong, with a dominating presence that overpowered you.
And cold, empty eyes.
. . .
You didn’t know which was worse: being in a solitary dark cell, or being Zemo’s toy, decorated and attached to his side like a pet.
You’d gotten so used to the feeling of his hands on your body, you almost craved it. You were starved for affection, for touch, for interaction, and Zemo was the one satiating your needs.
“Come here, little one.”
You rose from your seat on the chair in the corner, approaching Zemo. He was lounging on his bed in a white bathrobe, an arm tucked behind his bed. The baron watched you walk over to him, having no reason to disobey. You’d abandoned all of your resolve, and you went to his side when asked.
If you behaved, he didn’t torture you. You’d learned after your first attempted escape, you were far better off just doing as he asked. When you obeyed Zemo, you were awarded the liberty of being dressed and fed, and he wasn’t violent with you.
You flinched when he reached up and touched your face, turning your head away.
“Get on the bed.”
“I’m sorry,” you breathed, opening your eyes to look at your captor.
“Get in the bed on your own, or I will force you.”
You crawled onto the mattress, letting him push you onto your back. It seemed to appease him a bit, because he lifted your hips and put a pillow under you, carefully smoothing his hands up your legs.
“Aren’t you going to get a condom?” you asked weakly as he dropped his robe and pulled your knees apart. You’d stopped resisting, looking up at the blond in concern.
“No, my darling, I’m going to breed this little body of yours, and let you carry my heir,” he said, making your body feel frozen. You couldn’t swallow the knot that swelled in your throat, choking on the fear his words instilled in you.
“Don’t cry. You’re going to look gorgeous when you swell with life,” Zemo said, sliding his hands up your body and kneading your breasts roughly.
“And these... My heir may have to share,” he growled, lightly biting your skin.
“Zemo, Zemo, please. Get someone else, I don’t...” you sobbed, weakly pushing at his chest. He gripped your wrists in one hand, easily overpowering you with his size.
You despised how good of a fuck he was. He filled you perfectly, even more so when he wasn’t protected. You tried to block out who it was, just feeling another warm body.
Zemo at least had the grace to make you come first.
It made your body relax around him, clouding your mind with happy chemicals as he emptied his seed in you, buried so deep he was practically shooting into your cervix.
He didn’t let you up, forcing you to lay with your hips elevated, staying buried deep in your sex. He hushed you, though not harshly.
“I know it’s frightening, but just take it. Be my brave girl, Y/N.”
“Oh, darling, you don’t know the depths of my depravity.”
You didn’t doubt him.
. . .
Zemo had been informed by several of his employees that you wouldn’t stop crying, and they kept asking to sedate you. He’d harshly declined, reminding them of your pregnancy.
Finally, he left his work, going to see what the problem was. Since you’d been carrying his child, you’d become more docile, and even less resistant to him, as if the part of him growing inside of you had plunged you fully into stockholm syndrome.
“Y/N. Whatever is the matter?” Zemo entered his chambers, which had become yours as well.
You looked up at him, wrapped in a knitted blanket, curled up on the corner of his couch. He knelt down in front of you, and an outsider may have thought he was caring. Really, he was worried about his heir, your extreme stress becoming problematic. You didn’t matter to him.
“You will answer me, unless you want to sit back in that cell.”
“I’m lactating too early and it hurts,” you confessed in embarrassment, tears spilling past your waterline.
Zemo pulled your shirt off of you, freeing you from the constraining fabric. You let him inspect you, begging softly for help.
“Please do something, I’m in pain,” you begged, choking on your words.
He hummed, having half a mind to let you sit and weep. He watched you for a moment before an alternative came to mind.
“Come here,” he commanded, sitting beside you.
He helped you onto his lap, easing you to straddle him. He carefully squeezed your breast, earning a pained whine. Nothing happened at first, and you squirmed in discomfort. You cried out when milk started to drip from you, easing the painful pressure.
“Zemo?” you questioned softly in embarrassment as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking the milk into his mouth.
You were horrified, but you couldn’t deny him as the pain began to dissipate. It was terribly arousing, and you carded your fingers through his hair, your dark, twisted, unhinged lover.
When he moved to the other one, you had stopped crying, soothed by the relief from pressure and pain that had been plaguing you for days.
“Better?” Zemo asked, pinching you enough to hurt.
Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 5: Who I Really Am
Summary: As you come closer to finding your brother, Bucky begins to learn more of who you are.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert
Word Count: 2,755
Warnings: A few curses, angst, gun TW, violence
A/N: Here's the end of Part One! Part Two takes place during TFATWS. Thank you to everyone that has read so far!
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!
You groaned at the sound of your phone vibrating against the wooden surface of the coffee table, the voices on the television become louder the more you wake up from your slumber. You don’t even remember falling asleep last night.
As you tried to sit up, you felt a weight holding you down on your waist. Your eyes widened once you realized it was someone’s arm, making you freeze in place when you saw that the arm belonged to Bucky.
You figure that you both must’ve fallen asleep while watching whatever crappy movie that had been on. Looking over your shoulder, you could see his face, every feature, relaxed. He looked… peaceful.
No! You can’t be doing this! You know better than to let it get this far!
Gently, you lifted his arm off your waist and placed it behind you as you sat up. You grabbed your phone off the table as you got up, quietly making your way to your bedroom. Shutting the door behind you, you finally looked at the message that was sent by one of your contacts.
Attachment: Docks Security Footage Camera 4
Your heart started hammering as you clicked on it, praying that it would be something, anything, that would help you find Colton. You just needed to find him.
It showed the vehicle that had approached Colt in the other video from another angle, this time giving a clear image of the driver. You started moving quickly, grabbing your laptop and hooking your phone up to it. You downloaded the image and ran it through your facial recognition program.
Within minutes, it came back with a match, showing his name and address. He only lived about half an hour drive from the docks, meaning that he wasn’t that far from you. Now, you only had to talk to him.
Bucky woke up to the sound of someone rushing back and forth through the rooms of your apartment, which made him sit up on your couch to find that you were the someone. He stretched as he watched you stuff different items into your backpack.
“Where’s the fire?” Bucky grunted, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
His gruff morning voice made you stop in your tracks. In your hurry to leave, you had forgotten that Bucky Barnes was asleep on your couch. Only you would forget something like that.
“I, um… Some personal business came up. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, even help yourself to whatever’s left in the fridge,” you told him as you flung your backpack over your shoulder.
Bucky stood up from your couch, resting his hands on his hips as he looked you over. “Kris, what’s going on?” He questioned, his gaze never leaving yours. He knew something just happened, something big.
You shook your head, pushing past him towards your door. “I’ll talk to you later,” you stated, walking out the door without another word.
Devon Kline. That was the man that you had tracked down, right to the address you were currently staking out. You found out that he makes and sells passports to get out of the country, for the right price. It didn’t make sense to you that your brother would go to him, especially since the borders were open during the Blip.
You were scrolling through Devon’s page, waiting for him to come back home. There wasn’t much interaction on it since the Blip had occurred, except for a few from anonymous users. Apparently your brother was one of them.
Hearing a car door slam, you look up to see Devon getting out of his car and jogging up the steps to his front door. Once he was secured inside, that’s when you start your way over, looking down both ways of the street to make sure there weren't any witnesses. Everything was looking like it was going your way for once.
Except for when a man fell into stride beside you.
“Nice day we’re having, huh?” Bucky said to you, looking ahead of him. What the hell was he doing here? Did he follow you?
“What the hell are you doing?” You asked him, pulling him aside so you two were out of view of Devon’s windows.
Bucky turned to face you, shrugging his shoulders. “I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted, gesturing to the house you were targeting. “Why are you stalking this guy’s house?”
You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, you don’t get to ask questions, Barnes. Now go, I got a job to do,” you tell him, starting back towards the house.
“He knows something about your brother, doesn’t he?”
You stopped, taking a deep breath. “I just want to help. You have no idea what you’re walking into,” Bucky tried, walking to stand in front of you again.
“I’m pretty sure I can handle a guy that just illegally makes and sells passports, Buck,” you inform him. When he still doesn’t budge, you let out a sigh. “Fine, just follow my lead,” you give in, starting back towards the house with Bucky right behind you.
Once you make it up the steps to the porch, you knock on the door, checking again for any witnesses from the neighboring houses. Bucky stood off to the side, his fists clenching at his sides. It takes a few minutes for the door to open halfway, Devon sticking his head out to look over both you and Bucky.
“What the hell you want?” Devon spits out, not opening the door any wider. You could tell he was nervous, just by judging his demeanor. It was obvious that he apparently didn’t get a lot of visitors, which might be in your favor.
“Hello there! My husband and I were wanting to get away for our anniversary, but with everyone coming back, it’s been hectic trying to get out of the country, I’m sure you know all about that. Anywho, a friend of ours recommended going to you, said you were the best in the business!” You cheerfully told him, grabbing and holding on to Bucky’s arm. “Isn’t that right, hunny?”
Bucky gave the man a closed lipped smile. “It sure is, sweetheart,” he played along, wrapping his arm around your waist.
Kline frowned, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know what the hell you two talkin’ ‘bout. You better piss off,” he snapped, slamming the door in your face. Bucky dropped his arm from your waist, leaning over to check the window.
“If we wait a couple hours, we can just-”
Bucky was cut off by the sound of you kicking the door in and bursting inside. His eyes widened in surprise, standing in a brief shock before running in after you. He had no idea what was running through your mind, and was wondering where you had been hiding this side of you from him.
He could see the fear in the man that you were after eyes as you approached him. Even when the man pulled out a gun and threatened to shoot you, you didn’t even stop. Bucky’s heart started hammering as the man aimed the barrel at your face, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get to you in time.
No, no, no! Not you too! His mind started screaming at him, begging his body to move faster, to get there before the man pulled the trigger.
This, however, wasn’t your first rodeo.
You swiftly moved just as the bullet shot out, grabbing the gun with one hand and bending his wrist backwards with the other, not even flinching when there was a disturbing pop. Devon cried out in pain as you shoved him against the wall.
“I’m only going to ask you this one time. Colton Baxley, where did he want to go?” You asked him through gritted teeth. You didn’t have time to deal with anymore bullshit.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about! Please, just let me go, man!” Devon exclaimed, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll give you anything, just don’t kill me!”
“The man you met at the docks! Where did he want to go?!” You shouted, shoving him against the wall again. You were starting to lose your patience.
“Somewhere in Asia! I don’t ask any questions beyond that, I didn’t even know the guy’s real name,” Devon confessed, shaking his head. “I just know that the name on the passport was Kevin Bond, I swear!”
You let go of him, unloading the clip from the gun, throwing it on the ground. “You tell anyone about this, you will wish you never came home today. And I will know if you do,” you threatened before you turned away, pushing past Bucky without a single word.
Bucky quickly followed out after you, grabbing your arm once you both reached your car. “What the hell was that?” He questioned, gesturing back towards the house. “It was like you were a totally different person in there.”
You shrugged, unlocking your car door. “I got what I needed. How I get it, doesn’t matter,” you answered him. “You know how it is,” you added, your eyes scanning the neighborhood again.
Bucky shook his head, scoffing. “So what now? You’re gonna go to Asia and kill anyone that doesn’t give you the answers you need?”
“That’s what you did,” you shot back, slamming your car door closed. You could see the flash of hurt in his eyes, a pang of guilt running through you. You knew you shouldn’t have let yourself get close, so now you have to fix it.
“The girl that you get coffee and lunch with? She’s not real, hasn’t been for a while. Me, I’ve done things people can’t even imagine,” you start, walking closer to him. “You ever wondered how I knew who you were? How I know Romanian? It’s because I was stationed in Bucharest when my team found you after the Helicarrier incident. We organized the team that ended up bringing you into Germany.”
Bucky tensed up, his jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed on you. You observed his movements, knowing you succeeded in what you were trying to accomplish. With that, you turned away and got back in your car. “Goodbye, James.”
As you pulled off, you refused to look at him in your rearview mirror, wiping away the tears that started to fall. You had to do what you had to do, whether you wanted to or not.
“What do you mean I can’t leave the country?!” You shouted into your phone as you paced your apartment.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but until the Global Repatriation Council votes on global resettlement, no U.S. government personnel, active or not, is allowed to leave the States,” the woman on the phone tried to explain to you.
You ended the call, throwing your phone down on your couch as you pinched the bridge of your nose. They weren’t going to let you leave. You finally get a breakthrough and you’re stuck right where you are. What were you supposed to do now? How were you supposed to find Colton?
Letting out a shaky breath, you took a seat on your couch, grabbing your phone. Looking at the time, you realized that Bucky would just now be getting home from lunch out with Yuri. You thought that by hurting him and leaving, you would be able to stop thinking about him, but clearly, you were wrong.
You ruined your relationship with him, and you know it was completely all your fault. You hurt him, you lied to him, you were a complete and utter bitch to him. And you know it.
You know you can’t look for your brother anymore, but you could at least go apologize to the one man that actually cared.
Bucky had just walked into his apartment when he heard a soft knock at his door. He sighed as he checked the peephole, his expression hardening once he saw that it was you. He had been avoiding you for the last few days, waiting for you to leave for Asia. If anything, he was surprised you were still here.
“Buck, I know you’re home,” he heard you say, but didn’t move to open the door. “You have every right to be pissed, I know what I did. I just… I want to apologize,” you continued, letting out an uneven breath.
He didn’t know why, but he opened the door then, his hardened expression still on his face. You glanced up at him, licking your lips. Yeah, he was definitely still pissed.
“I just wanted to say that I was sorry. What I said to you was uncalled for, and I could have said it way differently. When I started talking to you, I told myself that I wasn’t going to get too close. After all, you used to be one of my targets, so I knew it wouldn’t end well for either of us,” you started, looking down at your feet before looking back up at him.
“I… I wanted to hurt you on purpose. I thought that if I did, it would make it easier for me to leave, that you wouldn’t want to come with me, because I know you would have wanted to,” you said, tapping the thick yellow envelope that you held in your hands
Bucky scoffed as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Oh, because you know me so well,” he snapped. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, biting your lip. You deserved it.
“I know everything about the Winter Soldier, yes. Bucky Barnes, on the other hand, is just someone that I wish I knew. But what I do know about Bucky Barnes is that he is a strong, loyal, and caring man that I hurt,” you told him, your voice cracking slightly at the end. “He is a man that taught me to be myself again after years of pretending to be someone that I’m not.”
Bucky’s hardened look started to slip away as he looked away from you, his arms falling to his sides. He didn’t know what he should do. He wanted to forgive you, but he didn’t want to allow himself to do so. He opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped by you.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me, Bucky. I just wanted you to know the truth,” you tell him, using the back of your free hand to wipe your eyes. You weren’t going to allow yourself to cry right now, you didn’t have the right to.
His eyes then landed on the big yellow envelope you were holding, clearing his throat before speaking. “What’s that?”
You looked down at the envelope that was currently in your grip. “It’s everything on me. Mission reports, family documents, even notes from that therapist. Everything. I wanted you to read it,” you answered, holding it out towards him.
Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at it. “Why?” Why would you want him to read that?
“It’s only fair, don’t you think?” You said as you gave it to him. “I’ll, uh, see you around, Bucky,” you ended before walking back to your own apartment.
Bucky stared down at the envelope in his hands, his eyes scanning the confidential that was stamped on it. He shook his head, walking out after you. “Kris, wait,” he called out.
You stopped at your door, turning back towards him. He dropped the envelope at your feet, looking you in your eyes. “I don’t want to know everything about you. I only want to know what you want to tell me,” he told you, reaching for your hand.
Hesitantly, you take it, looking up at him. It didn’t make sense to you why he was doing this, but you weren’t going to question it. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, causing a small smile to form across them.
As you both started leaning closer, lips nearly touching, your phone started going off, causing the both of you to start chuckling softly. You apologized as you took your phone out to see what was making it go off like crazy, your eyes widening once you read it.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked as you let go of his hand. Judging by the expression on your face, it couldn’t be good.
You looked away from your phone, meeting his concerned eyes. This wasn’t good.
“There’s a new Captain America.”
@bucky-bunnie @learisa @magconfangurl1 @lylthy @rosiahills22 @denimbex1986 @twd-rocks-blog (If you would like to be removed/added please let me know!)
Request: Anon- can you do number 16 "Can you just please hold me?" from fluff prompt list with Bucky? thank you!
Word Count: 408
How were you meant to stay happy and calm when the man you loved was about to leave to risk his life? You had no idea if tonight would be the last night, you would see him, but you couldn’t blame him as he had no choice but to leave. The war was destroying so much, and they needed young men to fight, sadly Bucky would be one of them.
You had tried your best to act as if it wasn’t the only thing you could think of, that it wasn’t infiltrating your sleep and breaking your heart. You couldn’t imagine what was going through his head, but you couldn’t imagine he was exactly calm or happy about risking his life, but he was doing a good job at keeping it inside.
The two of you had dinner before you excused yourself to go to bed early as you were struggling to keep up the façade of your brave face. You had been lying in bed for a matter of minutes, trying to keep your tears in when Bucky entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know you’re upset,” he said softly, resting a hand on your side. “How can I help you, Doll?”
Just hearing the pet name made you squeak in emotional pain as you feared that you may never hear him call you it again. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you tried your best to conceal how much pain and emotion raged within you.
“Can you just please hold me?” You whispered, trying not to sniffle or choke back the sob that wanted to escape.
Bucky silently complied. He laid down next to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, holding you as close to him as he possibly could. You held onto his arms as they wrapped around your middle, trying to cling onto him and hope that he would never let you go. Bucky wished he would never have to, he never wanted to have you out of his reach, always wanting to have you there but neither of you had any control over that.
Neither of you said anything more, too scared to break the fantasy of blissful joy you had in each other’s arms. Silent tears fell from both of you, both aware of the others sorrow but knowing there wasn’t any escape from the pain only ignoring the truth until the sun rose.
Hey, if you still take requests, can you write No5 with Bucky pretty plz?❤️
I hope you mean no.5 from the prompts darling.Cause I really am always waiting for someone to request smthn from the promps list and I love you for this. So lets goo!
Prompt 5. “Look at me. I love you.”
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Sad Bucky , Panic Attacks and Nightmares , Lots and lots of reverse comfort ( if ya’ll not really into that ); FATWS spoilers
Summary: After 7 years Bucky finds himself at your doorstep. (Heavily inspired from the song Sweet Night by V/ Kim Taehyung)
A year after endgame everything seemingly was going back to normal for most of the Earth. The Avengers at least those of them still left were busy with their duties as heroes. Sam took over the title of Captain America. And Steve’s diary lay on the desk of Bucky’s therapist open on his list of amendments. Every single name crossed out.
And a missing page.
Every night his head tossed around on that darned pillow on the floor images of that one door open flashing vividly in his dreams.
“You really gotta get help for that man”, Sam had warned for what seemed like the millionth time as he held a beer to his partner’s cheek. Bucky idly dismissed him as he took a sip of his drink. “I’m serious Buck, having a panic attack every time you even think about going anywhere near her neighbourhood is really not great for you. That also goes for your nightmares.”
Another sigh and he replies “It’s not that easy Sam.....What would you do?”. “Wrong person to ask Bucky”, Sarah chuckles as she passes by them getting a reply in the form of a scoff from her brother. “I would go confront her and do anything I can to get her back.”
That night wasn’t any different for Bucky as he woke up sweating and panting. His palm flat on the cold hard floor as he supported himself. “I really need a couch”, he grumbled before proceeding to look at the starless bitter sky through the window.
“Remember when I caught you breaking in through my kitchen window with a shivering little kitten in your hand because the door was locked, you were on the run AND you did not want the poor cat to suffer in the rain...?”
He smiled as he remebered your question that he had never answered back. ”How could I forget? You pepper sprayed me in the face right after I got in....”
“Woah you look like someone touched your hair products” “Leave me alone Sam......” “You know you will never know untill you try....” “I know....”
“What did you dream of ?” “You and I on a ship floating in the sky as we looked at the stars in Wakanda.....” “You make me want to come along with you”
“I wish I had let you....” he said as he wiped his eyes full of tears .That was the first time he had a dream and not a nightmare. The only night he had stayed with her.
“Do you think.....” “Think what ?” “That she would have the door open for me this time ?” Sam looked. at his friend for a second before looking back at the sea. “ I do...”
“Bucky. Look at me. I love you. I always have and I always will”
He woke up in a cold sweat as his eyes fell on the picture hung on the wall. “That was the last thing you said to me....”
Running in the middle of the night during winter was probably not the best idea for anyone but for Bucky it was everything in this moment. Especially as he didn’t ever falter before frantically ringing the doorbell of a house all to familiar.
“I knew it was worth it you know.....waiting for you even when you told me not to...”, she had spoken as she lay with her back on Bucky’s, his tears wetting the crook of her neck.
No further words were exchanged as he held her tighter her hand petting his hair as the both gazed into the Sweet Night and the end of the soldier’s nightmares.
Done ! I am so sorry for the huge delay ! I really hope you like this! I have no idea if this has turned out well so please do tell me🥰! I really wish more people would ask from the prompt list. It is really amazing for me to write and think about ! Do not hesitate to send me fic requests and please like, comment and reblog my work if you like it to support me! Please do not plagarise my hardwork! I hope to hear from you more!
Steve tried not to let the disappointment show too much on his face. 'You sure you don't want to come with us?'
'I have some reading I need to do,' Bucky said firmly. The reading wasn't urgent, and it could wait, but he always claimed he had to study when invited to go somewhere with Peggy and Steve. Watching them make eyes at each other wasn't great for his appetite as it was.
'You don't have to stay long. Just an hour,' Steve beseeched.
Peggy craned her head around Steve's shoulder. 'Sam will be there,' she said in a coaxing tone. Subtlety wasn't going to work with Bucky. She grinned with smug satisfaction and dug an elbow into Steve’s ribs when Bucky's entire body language changed.
Bucky's hand paused on the zipper of his backpack. Well, why didn't you say so sooner? 'What if I'm not hungry?'
'So order a Coke and some fries so Sam can steal your fries and leave mine alone.' Steve picked up his backpack. 'How the two of you work out compensation is up to you,’ he said over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
Pairing: James Bucky Barnes/ Original Female Character.
Important Tags/Genre: AU-canon divergent, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Relationship, Depictions of Violence, Fluff, Angst.
Word Count: 2338
Summary: He is decommissioned; more out of a personal choice than from outside pressure. James wants nothing more than to live simply---considering the over complications and trauma of his one hundred and six years of existence. So, he leaves New York and settles in a small town off the coast of Maine.
And that’s when he meets her. An odd little bartender by the name of Honey. And that's when his life once again faces complications.
Authors Notes: I'm really just free-forming this from start to finish. Rather than writing about the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier I'm gonna focus on the in-between. The next chapter should be out in a week! Likes, reblogs are always appreciated, and if anyone wants to be on the tag list feel free to let me know! I'm also gonna make a master list before the next chapter comes out for my own sanity. Thank you all for the support so far!
Also on A03
84 Dive becomes a safe space for him--at least that’s what his therapist had informed him. James had admitted one day very casually over the phone that he didn’t understand why he kept going back. By all accounts the dingy dive bar was, well just that; graffiti scribbled all over the bathrooms---even the toilet seats. Stickers and posters from past bands and shows had begun to peel and wither away from the sickening, decades old paint that coated the walls. Not to mention the unruly regulars.
“You’re comfortable there, James. Just enjoy it.” That's what she had told him, and while he sits at the shoddy old bar he wonders briefly if it is the bar itself, or perhaps the scrappy little bartender that keeps him coming back.
“I smell smoke.” as if on cue, Honey appears, her many braids piled high on top of her head in something akin to a messy bun. James cocks his head, and she’s a keen one, having already picked up on his silent little quips. “You think too much, James.” she grins, hands busy hand drying the pint glasses that sit on top of the bar. He stays silent a moment, fingers flexing around his own glass. He can’t exactly get drunk anymore, but the act of having a beer or two after a long day feels---normal.
“Bucky.” he finally relents, and it's her turn to tilt her head. “Call me Bucky.” Honey beams at him, and nods.
“Alright, Bucky it is.” She tests the name against her tongue, and he finds himself wanting nothing more than to hear her repeat it. “M’ gonna be closing up soon, it’s a bit too slow to stay open. You’re welcome to hang around while I clean.”
He takes stock of the room and finds it empty--when had that happened? Flesh finger taps the cracked screen of his phone: 23:00. James doesn’t answer, but he stays put watching while she shuffles around behind the bar.
“You from this town?” shoulders roll while he leans back in his seat and Honey humms idly, as though she were debating on how to answer.
“No, I moved here about seven years ago.”
“Why?” the question slips out easily, suddenly. Honey pauses, and watches him from under long lashes while she hand washes the last of the shot glasses.
“You’re awfully talkative today.” James takes the moment to gulp down the rest of his beer. Lips smack, and he makes a point to unclench his jaw.
“My therapist told me I should talk more, make more friends while I’m here so--” he throws up a hand as if to say, and here I am.
“Bucky Barnes has a therapist?”
“Condition of my parole.”
She laughs, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like wind chimes on a breezy summer day. And God damn if the way her entire face lights up, those dimples of hers making an appearance, doesn’t knock him down and out. James clears his throat, looks down at the chipped and cracked screen of his phone again.
“Sorry--” Honey simmers down, hands tuggin the white cloth from her back pocket to dry her hands. “--parole. Just, what a world we live in, yeah?”
“You’re telling me, doll.”
“Well, I’m all done here. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Honey skirts out from behind the bar, and he can’t help but watch as she rummages through the nearby supply closet to grab her backpack, and a change of shoes.
“Gonna be out of town for a little bit, actually.” James stands to follow her up the stairs and out the front door.
“A shame, who else will be around to keep me engrossed with such thrilling conversation?” he cocks a brow, eyes rolling briefly while she stifles another laugh.
“You say’n you’ll miss me?” Where the hell did that come from? He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his lips. Honey rolls her shoulders while she locks the door behind them.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” James calms his nerves and averts his eyes. There’s no one around, the street empty save for his bike, and then it hits him.
“How you getting home?”
“I walk usually.” Honey jerks a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of what he assumes to be her home. But he is having none of it. James tutts at her, and motions her toward his bike.
“It’s late, I’ll give you a ride.” gloved hands snag the helmet from his seat, holding it out to her. Honey looks him over, and then the bike.
“I don’t wanna take your helmet, what if you get hurt?” It’s his turn to bark out a laugh, and he notes the way her cheeks flush just so.
“Super soldier, doll--” he taps the side of his skull. “--remember?” Honey grins, and snags the helmet from his hands.
“The hell are you looking at?” Sam’s voice yanks him back to reality, and irks him to no end all in one moment. James locks his phone screen, tucking the device in his pocket while shoulders press back further into the hard metal of the plane. Sam cocks a brow, as if to pester him further, and James is starting to regret forcing his way into this little operation.
“Don’t worry about it.” a beat of silence, and finally, he mumbles. “Look'n at instagram.”
He’d found her profile easy enough; people these days were easy to find on the internet, and always posting something. Her bio was simple: name, age, location, and the page itself was a few selfies, pictures of friends and food. It was cute, simple. Very---Honey. Her last post was what looked like a candid shot; as though someone had caught her mid laugh. She was at the bar, though not working; clad in jeans and a nice top, her hair split into two buns that sat perched on either side of her head. James could hear the sound of her laugh in the back of his head while he traced the curve of her cheeks with his eyes.
“Since when are you on Instagram?” Sam looks puzzled, and perplexed. Someone speaks over the intercom, a red light blares overhead. James stands and follows the other to the door.
“And you didn’t punch him?” she’s pours him another beer, and makes sure to set it down on the coaster provided. James had been gone nearly a week with Sam, and with the mess of everything that had happened he is more than happy to be back in his favorite dive bar.
“I figured I had probably broken enough laws already that day.” he plucks the glass from the bar top with gloved hands, and Honey shakes her head.
“Who would have thought John Walker would be such an ass.”
“And what kind of name is Battlestar?”
“Thank you!” James throws his hands in the air, still as irritated as he was when he first heard the ridiculous title. Honey chuckles some, surprised to see him so animated.
“Well, I’m glad you made it back in one piece.” James eyes flicker high, and she's staring at him so intently---the honesty in her tone is hard to miss. And he wonders, just for a second, if she had been worried while he was away.
“You never told me why you moved here.” he has to change the subject; brain moving a mile a minute with what ifs, and anxiety. He needs to ground himself in something other than his own mind. Honey quiets some, just as she had the last time, and as sigh slips past full lips.
“Oh you know. Moved out of my hometown to get away from my past. Wound up here, and just haven’t left.” James notes the way the honey in her eyes falters as she talks of home.
“I can relate to that.” a pause. “What happened?” Honey leans against the bar, elbow propped on top of it, pointed chin resting in the palm of her hand.
“Aren’t they the worst?” lips quirk into the smallest of smiles, as though he were trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re not so bad.” That throws him. Mouth opens as if to say something, anything, but his brain is blank and James is rushing to make sense of his cluttered thoughts. Honey watches him, a laugh bubbling forth and spilling from between parted lips. “Speaking of men, I need a strong one to help me with something tomorrow; think you're up for it?”
He’s thankful for the topic change, and James nods while he taps a finger against his glass.
“Sure can, doll, long as I can get another beer.” She plucks his glass from the bar top, a muted smile spread across her cheeks while she turns to pour him another.
“Could you have found a heavier couch?” Of course she needed help moving something; James can’t imagine the woman needing to ask help for much else. Honey had pointed out the antique sitting out on a curb only a block from her house. Just need to get it up one flight of stairs, she had said. James thought it easy enough, but he forgot how heavy and awkward old furniture could be.
“Are you complaining, Mr. Super Soldier?” Her voice rings like bells from the top of the stairs of her apartment building, and James grunts some while he readjusts the couch against his shoulder.
“Not really. You better have beer up there for something as payment or else I’ll have to bill you.”
“Oh, so you plan on staying for a while, Buck?” Her tone is light, teasing, and he can’t help the grin that splits his face while he lands the last step. They have gotten more comfortable with one another; comfortable enough to tease, flirt, and jest. It’s nice. To be comfortable around someone again.
“I’ll stay around long as you need me to, Doll.” he catches the flush that graces her tanned cheeks, and a lopsided grin splits his face. They stand there a moment in silence, eyeing one another before James finally clears his throat. “So uh, where is this going?”
“Oh!” Honey zips down the hall, beckoning him to follow while hands busy themselves with the contents of her bag. “It’s a little messy-” James slips through the open door all the while easily maneuvering the musty old couch along with him. “Right here--” Honey motions to an empty spot just under two massive windows and he deposits the piece of furniture with a thunk. James takes stock of the apartment; bigger than he thought it would be. The space bosat a decent sized kitchen, separate living area, and small hall he assumes leads to the bedroom.
“Hope you’re not allergic to cats, there’s one kicking around here somewhere. She’s a bit of a drama queen, watch out.” Honey meanders through the kitchen, and James can hear the clatter of her keys hit the counter. He pokes around the living room, impressed with the plethora of healthy growing plants---all of them hung or tucked into clean shelving for maximum sun time. Books litter every flat surface, some crime thrillers, but mostly random subjects such as philosophy, poetry, and history. It’s very---her, he thinks.
“Got that beer for me, Doll?” she rounds the corner, handing him an amber bottle with a fancy looking label. Brow arches, and he pops the top to take a swig.
“It’s some local craft beer, not my favorite. I’d rather stick with liquor.” Honey chuckles lightly while flopping down into her new couch, and James watches while she seems to take stock of the new addition to her home. “Thanks for your help, Buck.” Honey lounges back into the sofa, her tiny frame sinking into old foam. An easy shrug rolls from his shoulders, and James moves to join her.
“S’no issue. No way you would have been able to lift that on your own.” James leans back along with her, legs spread slightly so that their knees touch. Honey hums idly to herself, chin creadled in the palm of her hand and he wants nothing more than to reach out and smooth the crease in her brow with the pad of his thumb.
“What are you thinking about over there?”
“Food.” he laughs some, gloved fingers picking away at the label of his bottle. “Lets get dinner, my treat?” Honey looks at him then, cheeks tinted a crips shade of pink and James grins.
“Are you asking me on a date, Doll?”
Full lips open to answer, and he watches as embarrassment creeps onto her face. But before she can answer his phone rings--a loud bleating noise that makes them both jump. James holds up a single finger as if to say, just a moment, and he answers without even checking who it might be.
“Well hello to you too, princess.” James recognizes Sam’s voice right away. “We’ve got a lead, you in?”
“Yeah, send me the location.” Honey watches while James stands, his drink left on the side table and long forgotten; she chews her bottom lip while he finishes the last of his conversation.
“Sorry, Doll.” he gives her a sad sort of smile, and Honey waves a hand as if to imply there wasn’t any issue.
“Duty calls, I guess?” James nods and slips his phone into his back pocket.
“Yeah, not sure how long I’ll be gone this time.” Honey stands to follow him to the door, and he doesn’t miss the worry that fills her eyes, or the return of that crease between her brows.
“Just be safe.” Her voice is quiet, distant, and James leans forward to press cool lips to her cheek. Her skin is as soft as he’d imagine, and this close she smells of vanilla and lavender.
“Don’t worry about me, Doll.” too nervous to stay any longer, James pulls away quickly, and leaves while gently shutting the door behind him.
“Did no one check with the weather guy?” Sam sounded more pissed off than the Asgardian drama queen.
“Apparently, they did”, (Y/N) quipped “and they presumed that it would be the perfect day for a little romance with the bad guys.”
Sam, Loki and (Y/N) had successfully executed their mission, and had ever since been trying to reach the safehouse. The original plan was to have the Quinjet ready as soon as they gave the green signal. But with the recent twist in weather, there was no way that it could be deployed.
So, here they were now, trying to find their way to the safehouse which was a decent 15 kms away from the location of the mission. If exhaustion wasn't enough of a barrier, the storm definitely was, easily making their destination seem double the actual distance.
After seemingly a millenium, they reached what looked like the flimsiest buildings of all time.
“I’m not staying in there,” Loki declared as soon as he set eyes on it.
“Me neither,” Sam echoed the trickster’s thoughts.
“I’d rather stay out-”
(Y/N) never got to finish her line. A bright violet light filled the neighbourhood, instantly followed by an ear-splitting crack.
The close proximity of the thunderclap made her scream and jump involuntarily, only to earn a chuckle from Loki.
“What? I didn’t grow up with the God of Thunder!!” she snapped. “Okay, I-I’d rather die of that roof falling on me than be charred by another one of those.”
“There’s no way I’m goin’ in there!” Sam stood his ground.
Another crack shattered the air.
“Fine, I’ll accompany you. But only to make sure that you stay safe,” Sam stated nervously as he darted behind her into the house.
“Are you going to stay here and have a chat with your brother?” she looked over her shoulder, and shouted at Loki.
“Well,” he sighed, “guess I’m not really a fan of that either. So...” he shrugged.
“Yeah,” Sam smirked, “I know you’re dying to get inside,” he finished with a wink, earning a tight-lipped glare from the God.
Once inside the “safety” of the house, the three of them stared at their shelter for the night. If the roof falling in was what they were initially worried about, they were now concerned about being suffocated by the horrid smell engulfing the place.
“This is the filthiest safehouse that I’ve ever seen!” (Y/N) scoffed.
The floors were damp and creaky. Thin trails of water leaking from the edges of the ceilings had left their stains on the walls. The way the wind fought against the windows, it seemed unlikely that they would be able to sustain through the night. The wood in the fireplace was home for wild mushrooms. And a pungent smell of damp and rotting wood hung heavily in the air.
How the place had been holding itself over the years was a big mystery.
“Are you sure this is the one?” Sam looked at the place with disgust.
“You wanna cross-check? Feel free to do so,” she hissed. “What are you doing?”
Her attention was diverted by Loki who was staring at the fireplace intently, with one hand extended towards it. Just two seconds after the question, a blazing fire appeared out of nowhere.
“You’re welcome,” Loki offered a “benevolent” smile at his companions.
(Y/N)’s lips fought hard against a grin that threatened to spill out. She was not only grateful but was thoroughly impressed with Loki’s wide variety of skills. But feeding his already swollen ego was something that she preferred to refrain from.
This may also be fanned by the fact that she had been harbouring a steadily growing fondness for the God of Mischief. She hated to admit it even to herself; after all why encourage a dream that is eventually going to be crushed by reality? There was no way that he - a God, an Asgardian, someone with such refined tastes, an arrogant ass - would ever return her feelings.
So, instead, she decided to swallow all her feelings, and continue as co-workers. But are feelings actually that easy to swallow? Especially when you’re living everyday under the same roof?
“Yeah, thank God someone knows magic!” she rolled her eyes, and walked past him to examine the rest of the house.
“Oh, you don’t really have to thank me, mortal,” Loki grinned, and in the blink of an eye, he was completely dry as if he had never stepped out in the rain at all.
Once (Y/N) disappeared into the adjacent room, Sam nudged him in the ribs, and whispered, “Hey, care to use that same trick on me? By the way, that was one good move!”
“Don’t!” Loki raised a finger at him. “Either you stop your nonsense or I turn you into a goat! Your choice.”
“Well, I’m sure that’s not gonna impress her.”
“And why would I even try to do that?”
Sam simply gave him a sly smile and a you-can’t-fool-me look.
Loki’s ears had the faintest hint of red. “Alright, I have no idea what you’re talking about but hush. Now!”
“I will, if you just tell her.”
“Tell who what?” (Y/N)’s voice hit Loki like a whiplash out of the blue.
She eyed him up and down, and stated (more in frustration than in surprise), “You’re dry!”
For a few seconds, he stood frozen, scared that she might have heard more than what he’d like her to.
Sensing Loki’s comical state, Sam stepped forward, “Tell you!”
“Me?” Her eyebrows laced together in confusion.
“Yeah! He wanted to tell you how much he-” Sam’s words waltzed out of his mouth only to be stopped roughly by Loki’s loud voice.
“I DON’T THINK,” he noticed how he got her startled and instantly dropped his voice to a more polite range, “that’s how a lady should be...told.”
“Will any one of you sensible beings tell me what’s going on?” she was losing patience now.
And it wasn’t something to be blamed on her. They were exhausted from the mission, had to walk for over two hours in the storm, they were drenched and shivering, and what they got for shelter for the night was a rotting old house. The only food that they had were the few protein bars that she had packed while leaving the compound. When they’d receive any backup was absolutely uncertain.
“Well,” Loki responded with an uncharacteristically shaky voice, “I was suggesting that you could take the couch while Sam and I could rest in the other room.”
She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. Was that all the fuss about? “Works for me, yeah. I’m sure any place here would be damp and filled with bugs.”
“That’s the point, actually. The couch can be moved near the fireplace, so you'll be warm,” Loki explained.
“Wow! You do care a lot about her comfort!” Sam exclaimed dramatically.
“That’s what a smart gentleman does, Sammy,” she defended Loki.
She defended him! Loki’s brain malfunctioned for a few seconds as it wondered if she really did compliment him or if she was simply pulling his leg. She was usually nice to him but when it came to shooting sarcasm and teaming up with others for a playful bully time, she seemed to quite enjoy her share.
“Well, good to see you two warm up,” Sam left the room with a sly smile, leaving both Loki and (Y/N) flustered.
Hardly a couple of seconds later, he returned. “Hey, use some of your witchcraft to dry me off?”
“No,” Loki deadpanned.
Sam shook his head and disappeared back into the room.
“Care to clean this bed?” His voice bellowed across the rooms.
“No,” the sorcerer shouted back.
(Y/N) chuckled at the banter. Surely, Sam had a way of pissing people off if he wanted to, and Loki was his latest toy.
Her amusement was replaced with awe as a green light appeared around her, and soon her dripping form was dry, just like Loki’s.
“I said I won’t do it for him,” he answered her silent question.
“Thank you,” she laughed at the silly way these two fought, “but y’know, I don’t think he should be left all drenched.”
“Maybe for another hour?”
“I know he pisses you off but...please? The house is already damp enough. Don’t want to add a walking piece of dampness to it,” she winked.
How could he refuse that face?
He sighed in defeat, “Fine! Just a few minutes more.”
She huffed and held her thumbs up at him.
Loki wasn’t a man of his word but he did keep the promise that he made to (Y/N). Sam was lying flat on his back, still soaked, but snoring softly, when he used his magic on him. Additionally, he also used his talents to make sure that his side of the bed was clean while neatly avoiding Sam’s side.
It was almost 3 AM, but sleep seemed to have abandoned Loki for good. The thundering was but only another means to keep him tossing and turning on the hard mattress.
Just as he felt like he was finally drifting off, he heard murmuring and the clank of something light from the living room. He quietly stepped out of the room to check on (Y/N).
He found her standing behind the couch with her hands on her hips, her back towards him. The top half of her suit was lying on the back of the couch along with her tank top and the utility belt.
Loki gaped at her form with boyish wonder: her hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, a black sports bra covered her torso, giving her a feminine yet strong look, while the leggings from her suit elegantly hugged her curves. The glow of the fire gave her an aura that Loki could identify with only something divine.
Either he had wondered something aloud or she had sensed someone because she suddenly turned on her heels, and froze. A distinct red tinted her ears and cheeks as she stood enchanted by the fire dancing in those green eyes.
Loki was the first to snap out of the trance that the rain and the fire had conspired in the room. He cleared his throat and apologised.
“I...I heard some noise, and so...came in to make sure that you’re alright. I should have knocked,” he spoke with his gaze focused on the floor.
Had it been any other team member, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable. But somehow the man managed to pull out all the deepest feelings inside her. That was something really unnerving.
Her hands instinctively folded in front of her chest. Shifting on her feet, she stammered, “Well, it’s my fault actually. I thought you guys had dozed off. So...didn’t bother locking the door,” the last few words were muttered under her breath, more to herself than to Loki.
“What were you doing anyway? Are you alright?” his voice was laced with genuine concern. His eyes, however, fleeted between her face and the floor.
“Ugh...it’s this back pain. It’s getting worse and worse,” she grumbled while reaching into her bag that was perched atop the couch. “I was wrestling with this,” she waved an analgesic spray in her hand, “but I guess my arms aren’t in their best shape right now.”
This time Loki looked directly at her. He took a couple of slow steps towards her.
“Ya, sure,” she nodded with a blush, and turned around after handing him the can.
“Right here...and here,” she pointed towards the affected areas.
She held her breath as the spray seeped into her skin.
“I’d warned you to leave that big guy for me,” Loki spoke softly as he carried on with his ministrations.
“It was fun,” she huffed, “and he had pissed me off.”
“And what about this?” Loki handed her the can.
“Part of the job,” she said as she turned to face him. “Thank you!”
“Any time!” Loki smiled.
He smiled, which was unusual because he would always be found wearing a smirk or a devilish grin or an exaggerated simper.
The awkwardness was gone. But the air was heavy with something else. It was comfortable yet overwhelming.
Loki slowly leaned forward. Her breath hitched in her throat but she did not protest. Rather, something inside her refused to protest. She liked it but was equally scared.
What Loki did made her heart swell. He reached behind her to get her tank top. Handing it to her, he turned to face away from her.
As she slipped into the garment, she wondered how somebody so arrogant and smug could be so gentle. She wanted to scream as her feelings for him reached another menacing level.
“You may turn,” she couldn’t afford more than a whisper.
Loki was beautiful, she had always observed. But the flames did something to that face, to those eyes. He really looked like a God now - mesmerizing and powerful yet gentle and loving. She felt like, at that moment, there was no way one could associate him with the title of the ‘God of Mischief’.
“Get some sleep,” Loki interrupted her thoughts, causing her to blink, “Call me if you need anything.”
“Actually, I can never sleep through a thunderstorm,” she confessed.
She no longer bothered if he’d make fun of her because something inside her heart assured her that he wouldn't, that she could confide in him her worst fears and her fanciest dreams.
“Yes, it’s rather disturbing. I’m not fond of it either.”
“Really? And I thought that you’d be quite used to it.”
“I’m used to it, yes, but not a fan of it,” he explained with a smile.
“Right,” she nodded. ‘Idiot, me!’
“So...are you going to spend the night sitting here?” he asked.
“Guess I don’t have an option,” she shrugged.
“May I join you?” The words slipped out of his lips before he could rethink about it. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Why would I mind? I’d love your company. A company,” she quickly tried to cover her slip up. “Not that your company is bad. It’s quite good, actually.” She sighed heavily, “Sorry, it’s probably exhaustion. Just-”
He laughed softly. “That’s okay.”
She shifted her bag to a table, and plopped down on the couch, only to feel slightly embarrassed by her own action as she observed Loki sit down gently, in a way that could have only been taught in palaces.
A few minutes passed in silence. Not an uncomfortable silence where one feels the urge to fill the space with meaningless words, but a pleasant one. Loki noticed the way she winced at each clap of thunder that landed somewhere nearby.
“My brother can be really annoying at times,” he remarked.
“Hmm? Oh!” She laughed. ”We both know that’s not your brother.”
“I can tell you it is. He’s really irritating.”
Her smile faltered as her eyes narrowed, and Loki could tell that she was doubting herself. He simply raised his brows at her.
“Trickster!” She leaned forward to hit him playfully on the arm but quickly settled back as a jolt of pain seared through her back.
“Why don’t you lie down? I’ll be right here,” Loki had lost his humour, concern etched on his features, as he gently held her arm and helped her to get comfortable.
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine by morning,” she nodded lightly. “And I’m rather enjoying this...” she gestured between the two of them, “conversation. Unless you’d like to...” She pointed to the other room where Sam was peacefully sleeping through the storm. She wondered how.
‘’He snores a lot,” Loki scrunched his nose.
Damn! All (Y/N) wanted to do was to reach up and kiss the tip of his nose.
“Yes,” she chuckled, “and pisses you off, too!”
She noticed the way Loki’s lips pursed and...was it her or was he really blushing?
This time the silence was indeed uncomfortable.
“Umm,” (Y/N) cleared her throat, “About all that teasing...actually...”
“I’m sorry, I-”
“I’m sorry, it’s all becau-”
The words vanished almost as quickly as they were uttered. Each person stared at the other, thoroughly confused.
“You...were saying?” She raised a hand towards Loki.
The words seemed to be caught in his throat. “No, you go ahead.”
“Okay,” she nodded nervously and gulped. Darting her tongue between her lips, she began what looked like a confession.
“I know that Sam has been getting on your nerves lately. Others, too. I know it’s really annoying.” Her gaze hardly moved away from the flames.
Loki shifted in his seat.
“I’m sorry, it’s because of me,” she confessed.
His brows knit together as he leaned slightly forward, curiosity reeling him in.
With a fleeting glance at him, she resumed, “I may have accidentally said something during our latest girls’ night out. I was drunk, and eventually, they got to that stupid part where they were discussing guys, and they cornered me, and I...” the words rushed out like a bullet train, eventually slowing down to a whisper, “might have...well I did...slip something out.”
A narrow - very narrow - ray of hope cracked through his doubts.
She observed the suspicious way in which he eyed her.
“That...that’s classified! Until...you tell me why you apologised.”
“I didn’t!” Loki tried to keep a straight face.
“Liar! And that’s a really poor one coming from the God of Lies,” her laughter came out in wisps of warm breath.
Defeated, Loki looked at his lap where his hands were fiddling with each other.
“I thought...” His hesitation only fed her curiosity. “I thought it was because of something that I had...well...confided in Thor. And him being the big-mouth that he is, he’d probably bellowed it across the compound, although he keeps denying it.”
“And...what was it that you’d confided?”
“There’s no escaping this, is there?” Loki sighed. His ears were a bright red by now.
She smiled and shook her head. It was either the dancing flames or her eyes really did dance with playfulness and curiosity.
“Please don’t get me wrong. I respect you a lot. You...your thoughts, your talents...I never meant anyone to make fun of...” He was practically stumbling through his own thoughts.
“Loki,” she held his hands in hers, “it’s okay. I trust you. I know that you’d never do anything that would hurt me.”
The sincerity in her voice and the warmth of her hands gently brought him down on stable ground. He weighed his options between telling her the truth and covering it up with a well-devised lie.
He chose to go with the truth.
What could he lose? If he really knew her, she wouldn’t misunderstand him. She wouldn’t sever their friendship. There was nothing to lose here, really, except for what he had already lost to her.
Looking into those eyes that anchored him down to Midgard, he finally spoke, “I’d told him that I...that I like you. A lot.”
A barely audible gasp escaped her throat.
When she did not flinch, he got the courage to continue, “I’d told him that I think too much about you to be considered normal. Or something like that. That I’m beginning to like Midgard, all because of you. Well, mostly because of you.
I’d asked him if this was what he felt for Jane. And I’d asked him a way out of this because...I cannot live with this odd feeling swelling up in my chest every now and then. Nor can I lose you because of anything stupid that I might have said just now.”
Neither noticed when their hands had slipped into each other’s.
“You’re not offended, are you?” he asked cautiously, searching her eyes for any sign of anger or panic, but finding none. Instead they were glistening with moisture.
‘Did I make her cry now?’ he worried.
“Sounds like the God of Chaos is going through a pretty chaotic time himself,” she chuckled.
Loki couldn’t gauge her reaction. So, he simply stared at her, speechless, waiting for her to unveil the mystery.
“At the night out,” she intertwined her fingers with his, intentionally this time, “I’d said that if I ever had to go on a romantic mission with anyone, it’d be you. I like you, too. A lot! As in, damn! You boost my heart rate every now and then. Like, right now, my insides are doing somersaults,” she chuckled nervously.
Whether it was the happiness shining on her cheeks, or it was the faint rush of blood to her face as she finally confessed her feelings, or it was simply Loki’s love for her, he did not know. But to him, she seemed to be more attractive than ever before.
‘She likes me. She likes me back. She wants to go on a romantic mission with me. She-’
“Wait, what’s a romantic mission?” he wondered aloud.
(Y/N) laughed. “Oh, it’s just a silly made-up thing. Gibberish of the drunken minds! It’s like, umm..y’know, the kind of silly plots that they show in movies? Like, where the guy and the girl are forced to stay together for safety, and all those suppressed feelings of love come flowing out...”
“Like taking shelter in an abandoned, old, rickety house on a stormy night?” Loki smirked.
“I guess so. And like staying up all night in front of the fireplace, confessing their feelings for each other? Yes. Sounds like it,” she added.
“Maybe not a silly gibberish after all.”
“Tell me,” Loki’s voice had almost drowned to a whisper, “what happens next? Do they kiss?”
His hand moved up to gently palm her cheek. A pleasant shiver ran through her as she leaned into his touch.
“Usually they do,” she barely heard her own voice as they leaned in.
“May I?” his question fanned her lips.
A buzz from his phone woke Sam up. Although it was pitch dark outside, the storm had ceased, leaving only a drizzle behind.
Not seeing Loki beside him, he tip-toed to the living room. The sight that he saw pulled a satisfied grin across his face.
He pulled out his phone to see the missed call, and dialled back.
“Hey Tony,” he whispered after a few seconds, “Yeah, thanks. I’ll tell them...Yep, they’re doing great. Just great! Tell the team to keep their bucks ready...Yeah, I won the bet. Oh, and tell Thor that it worked perfectly! The guy deserves a big treat.”
Putting the phone back in his pocket, he went back to bed with a large grin.
‘They’ll know when the Quinjet arrives’, he thought to himself as he turned on his side.
It was then that he noticed how clean the other side of the bed was. Although he wanted to give the sorcerer a piece of his mind, he decided against it.
‘Let them have their moment’, he thought. After all, the entire team had been waiting for this exact moment!
In the living room, oblivious to the weather outside, oblivious to Sam and his almost-interruption, Loki and (Y/N) were lost in each other.
Since the moment that their lips had connected, the world outside had become a blur, a muffled lullaby. The rain and the fire that had been witnessing them through the night, were now reflected in their kiss.
They had been looking for a home, and they had now found one when, ironically, they were forced under the roof of an old decaying house.
Loki had one hand on the nape of her neck and the other around her waist, wrapping himself as tight as possible around her. He felt like he had been thirsty for thousands of years, and had finally found water. He wasn’t letting her go. Never.
(Y/N) was seated on his lap, her legs wrapped around his slender waist, just like Loki had imagined when he had pulled her on top of him. Her hands now explored his chest and the night hidden in his hair.
They had waited for long, pined for long and now, at long last, they were on the same page. Nothing else mattered.
A whirring sound, gradually nearing the shelter, woke them up from their frenzy. It was the Quinjet, they realised with much disappointment.
“Damn!” (Y/N) breathed.
“I’d like to court you properly,” Loki whispered on her lips, his breathing erratic and heavy. “Will you allow me to?”
She rested her forehead on his, their eyes still shut.
“Of course, I will!” She whispered back, panting just as much as him. “Just for the record, you’ve already won my heart.”
A smile touched his lips. He opened his eyes. “And you have mine.”
Startled, their heads shot towards the source of the noise.
Sam was leaning on the doorframe that led to the inner room. Smugness dripped from his smile.
“Sorry to interrupt but we gotta go.”
(Y/N) jumped off Loki’s lap, and landed on the floor rather awkwardly. Loki was standing beside her in a split second. They both looked like deers caught in the headlights.
“We...uhh...it was...um...we just...” (Y/N) scratched her brain for a random explanation. Just anything!
“Were making out,” Sam grinned. “I know. I came in before to tell you that back up was on its way here, but...didn’t think it’d be appropriate to disturb you two.”
The new couple’s faces were as red as tomatoes.
“That’s okay, we’ve all been waiting for this. The way you two looked at one another...it’s a surprise that we had to wait for so long! Now, chop chop! The jet’s not gonna wait for us all night!”
As Sam walked towards the front door, Loki and (Y/N) glanced at one another.
“Let’s continue this at the compound, shall we?” Loki smirked.
“Most definitely!” she grinned.
With a chaste kiss, they gathered their belongings, and jogged towards the jet hand-in-hand, hearts racing at the prospect of the new chapter that just got started.
“Someone’s got spring in their steps,” Natasha called as they both stepped inside the jet.
i think A LOT about the idea of redwing having recordings of everything he and sam sees. Just imagine sam looking thru 'em one day, looking for an especific mission file and then there's bucky, laughing and scrunching his nose at sam, staring at him with heart eyes when he's not looking and sam feels this warm feeling in his chest. inserts italic oh here
The mighty Titan. Who would have thought it? Here in his tent, slicing vegetables like some kind of Intergalactic Chef. And yet despite everything . . . Tentatively, you step closer. His face is scarred, his eyes downcast. This place is little more than a tent in a field.
"You promised me I would learn to live without love," you murmured. "So I tried to live as you wished me to. The result? Sam is dead. And I have never known pain like this. Why? Why did you not fulfil your promise?"
He sets the plate down. "It is true (Y/N). I wanted greatly to free from your sensitivity. From your aching pains. But to transfer your consciousness to an android body would have taken away what I admired most about you."
Instantly his neck is at the point of your sword. "Another game? What then? What did you admire most about me?'
Not a muscle moves. "I told you. Your heart. Your fire. And passion." He slaps your sword away with a sinister laugh. "Don't pretend you are sad. Your time with the human was always limited. I simply cut the string earlier than intended. He was a rat. I thank the stars every day that he never . . ."
"I'm carrying his child Father." There it is. The twisting of the lips, the clenching of the jaw and the only indication of anger you have seen since you arrived at the Garden. And guess what? You're addicted to it. "Yes there it is. Your worst fears. That I would grow to be a god like you. That I defiled myself with one of the humans you hate, that he touched me, and kissed me, and made love to me . . ." Every word you utter sees him turn a shade darker. "And yes. I loved him. I loved him more than I have ever loved you. If you want to kill me, now is the chance. You have the power. Kill me. And spare me from the dark days ahead."
Like a deflated balloon, he sags against the ground. A huff. "Fight all you wish. You think I call you daughter because I took you in? You know nothing. I call you daughter because I see more of myself in you than in any of my other children . . ."
"Liar!" The kick lands squarely against his face. The crunch does not satisfy you before you are punching him with all the force you can muster. "This was you! Everything I am is because of you and now Sam's dead and there's no one left to save you from me!"
"You will always be like me. That is enough."
You start chuckling. And then it hits you. Could he be right? Look at how quickly you leapt to defend yourself. To kill him. Look at what you are doing. You enjoy the blood as much as he did. The only difference is that you deny it.
"Take a look at my face," you growl as you let him drop to the floor. "Someone somewhere is coming for you. I may not be able to bring Sam back. But I want you to know that everything he stood for, the very ideals you spat on and dragged through the mud, I will proudly carry. Know that. And remember me well."
warnings: gunshot wound, blood mention, mature language
pairing: bucky barnes x female oc
word count: 2,027
A/N: apricity will have a series of installments of one-shots to give in-depth glimpses of bucky, florence, and their story! this is one. thank you for reading! feedback is welcome!
Bucharest, Romania. 1990
Eight months into the year-long recon mission.
Florence wasn’t a stranger to the searing pain of a gunshot wound or the stinging radiation of a stab wound. She’s taken too many bullets to count, patching herself up in dingy bathrooms, dark back alleys, and now a safe house in Romania.
She stumbled through the barren apartment leaving a trail of blood, the Soldier nowhere to be found. She pushed the bathroom door open with bloody hands, her footing messily stumbled to the sink as she felt hot blood ooze down her hip. She tore off her tactical vest the bullet had managed to go through and peeled the sticky shirt off of her abdomen, the blood making the fabric stick to her skin uncomfortably. Gritting her teeth, she swiped an alcohol pad up the trail of blood, the movement ending at the entry wound.
The bottle of liquor was in front of her on the sink, leftover from the soldier when he had gotten stabbed the week before. She took the bottle in her hand, the glass smearing with blood, and shakily twisted the cap off and taking a long swig before she poured it on the wound. Florence yelped in pain, biting her shirt to quiet her moans of pain and to keep it out of her way. She places the bottle back down on the sink, the glass meeting the porcelain with a clink.
She fishes the tweezers out of the first-aid kit and runs them under the tap, the blood loss not giving her the energy to properly clean them. A deep breath in and then the metal enters the wound, blindly poking and prodding her flesh to try to find the slug of the bullet. Florence bites down on the blood-soaked fabric of her shirt so hard she’s afraid she’ll fracture her own jaw, her hands shaking so uncontrollably that she drops the tweezers into the sink. The shirt drops from her mouth as she leans against the porcelain, catching her reflection in the mirror as she drops her head and takes a deep breath in, closing her eyes.
Something shuffles behind her, she lifts her head slowly to look in the reflection of the mirror behind her. The soldier looms in the doorway, his broad figure taking up the entire space of the door as his eyes scanned the bloody mess of the bathroom. If Florence wasn’t so delirious from the blood loss, she would have noticed the panicked rise and fall of his chest or the mixture of concern, relief, and anger swimming in his eyes as he finally took in her slumped form.
The soldier enters the cramped bathroom without a word and picked the bloody tweezers from the floor. His hand meets Florence’s elbow, gently guiding her to sit on the closed toilet lid, ker skin was paling by the second from blood loss. Bucky reaches in front of her and grabs the whiskey, pouring it over the tweezers. He fishes around the first-aid kit for what, Florence doesn’t know, too busy trying to keep herself upright and not falling onto the floor. The last thing she wanted was for the soldier to carry her out of here like she was helpless.
The soldier found what he was looking for, busying himself with threading a needle to stitch up the wound once he got the bullet out. He hid the shake of his hands well, swallowing down the anxiety that settled in his bones. The thought of something happening to Florence sparked a fire inside if him that would never die out, the embers would always be lit even if it was only a dying ash. Bucky has killed for much less, he wouldn't bat an eye to do it for Florence, it would be the only time he would wash blood from his hands and not end up in a fit of panic. The length Bucky would go for her knew no end, he'd go to the ends of the earth.
He laid out gauze and pads along the sink edge, much more prepared than Florence. He could probably patch up a bullet wound in his sleep, only if he ever did sleep. Florence tiredly watches Bucky as he turns toward her with tweezers in hand, his stormy eyes never meeting hers and his jaw clenching angrily and shoulders tensing, his body rigid. The girl didn’t have the energy to indulge in his anger, she didn’t understand why he was even angry in the first place.
Bucky set the tweezers down on the edge of the sink, his hands dropping down to his belt, fingers working at the buckle. Florence watched in confusion as he undid his belt, metal and flesh fingers sliding it through the belt loops of his dark jeans. He wrapped the leather around his hand before sliding it off and motioning the folded leather towards her mouth, nodding for her to bite down on it.
He picks up the tweezers again and kneels in front of her on one knee, looking at her in a silent apology before he plunges the metal into her flesh. Florence bites down on the leather, eyes screwing shut as she balls her hands up in fists in her lap. Bucky continues to dig, the tweezers hitting a particularly tender spot, Florence’s hand flying to his shoulder and clutching his navy blue shirt, causing the man to pause for a moment and take a deep breath. The tweezers finally catch on something solid, Bucky pulling the bullet out quickly and pushing gauze to the wound as he drops the blood-soaked bullet into the sink, blood splattering across the ivory porcelain.
Florence drops the belt from her mouth, watching as it falls the ground between her and Bucky, who still kept pressure on the wound.
Bucky reaches across himself to grab the needle, finally speaking, “Hold the gauze.” His tone is cold and sharp, a night and day difference from the look in his eyes that expressed that he was scared and worried. Florence could usually read him like a book but now that book had slammed closed and locked itself away.
Florence places her hand over his as she takes over holding the gauze, Bucky sterilizing the needle with the remaining liquor in the bottle. He'd have to buy another tomorrow.
He turns back, fingers prying at her hand to remove the bloody padding as he began to stitch the wound closed, not bothering to warn Florence of the sting of the needle, this was her payback for making him feel like his entire world was ending at the fear of losing her. Only she didn't know that.
Time passed slowly as Bucky stitched her up, Florence gaining more awareness as she watched Bucky’s jaw tick, “I didn’t ask you to help me, so why are you mad? Is it the mess?” Blood was everywhere leading to and in the bathroom, she remembered their first month in the apartment, the soldier had yelled at her about her leaving a dish in the sink, something about not leaving a trace that they had been there. She called him paranoid then and she immediately regretted it when the look on his face read like she had just slapped him.
The soldier clipped the thread and started a new stitch, shaking his head, “No.”
Florence huffed, wincing as the needle plunged through her flesh again, sharp and pulling, “Then what’s wrong with you?”
“You should have been more careful.” Bucky spoke with a clipped tone, not daring to look up at her. If he did, he's afraid he'd crumble right on the floor in front of her.
If breathing didn’t feel like her sternum was going to crack, Florence would have laughed, “Are you kidding? You got stabbed last week and I didn’t say a word.” The soldier had entered the apartment at 3 in the morning clutching his side with one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other and a sour scowl on his face. Florence sat awake on the sofa, she was waiting for him to get home, her anxiety growing as the clock continued to tick, and watched as he stumbled to the bathroom and locked the door. She didn't follow but heard the muttered curses through the thin peeling walls. She didn't sleep at all that night.
Bucky huffed as he finished up the final stitch, “That was different.”
Anger pooled in the girl’s eyes, “Please explain to me how that is different. Enlighten me.”
Blue finally met green, both staring at each other intensely, “It’s different because you are the one that got shot. You should have let me handle the mission today.”
This time Florence did laugh, ignoring the searing pain it sent through her entire body, “You know what? Fuck you. We were sent here to do a mission, that’s what I was doing. Do not treat me like I’m glass.”
Bucky immediately regretted partaking in this argument, he should have stayed quiet, otherwise, right now his feelings wouldn’t be bubbling to the surface, “I never said you were glass. I should have gone with you, protected you.”
All bets were off, Florence’s nerves were fried- frayed and raw and he had just rubbed salt in the wound, “Protected me?! I don’t need protecting! I got shot, end of story.” This conversation sparked a fire in Florence, everything she had been bottling up threatening to explode, taking multiple casualties in its path with no mercy. They were both going to drown in the emotion flooding the air between them.
That was Bucky’s final straw, his jaw ticked, eyes widened and suddenly he was yelling, voice bouncing of the confined walls of the dingy bathroom, “No! Not end of story! When I walked in, I saw a trail of blood and thought the worst, I thought I had lost you, Florence!”
Time froze, Florence’s brain malfunctioning as Bucky’s words sunk in, “You know my name.” All eight months, he called her soldier, never anything else. She silently prayed that eventually he'd recognize her, give her a dose of before, before all of this, and now it was finally happening. She watched as the soldier stood in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted like he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The two stared in silence before he spoke again, his tone significantly quieter as it trembled and shook with emotion, “I'll forget my own before I ever forget yours." Tears brimmed his eyes, "I remembered it last week. Along with a few more things I can’t place.”
Florence had been off the ice considerably longer than Bucky had before this mission, her memory had already come back to her in chunks. All of him. All of Bucky. Everything.
“What-,” Florence gulped, “What things?” Florence pleaded internally that it wasn’t what she was dreading.
"A ring? All I remember was that it was emerald. I never see the girl I give it to, it’s too blurry. And a pregnant woman? That one is the most confusing.”
Florence now had a vendetta with the universe.
Florence weighed her options of telling him the truth or lying to him, opting to tell him the truth. She settled on only one truth today, she couldn’t handle the other one, not now, “The ring was mine. You and I were together before this. We were engaged, you proposed right before you left for England in the war.”
Bucky only looked at her, a distant look in his eyes, “Oh.” That’s all he had to say, choosing to remain silent as he walked out of the bathroom, leaving Florence to fight the demons herself.
She twisted the lock on the door, slid down to the ground, and sobbed, not caring that Bucky could definitely hear her. Screaming at the universe or any higher being, she begged them to listen, pleading for something, anything. Death, escape, to wake up from this nightmare.
None of it was fair.
That night, Bucky and Florence slept through the night in the same bed for the first time, finding temporary peace in each other’s arms.
Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed!
Tag list: @tanyaherondale @lilyviolets @jckie94 @g-mayunot @geek-and-proud @ginger-swag-rapunzel
Chapter 2 of my Sam Wilson Steampunk AU fic, enjoy!
Please do not plagiarise, copy, or repost anywhere else.
Pairing: Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Agent Wilson follow the trail of Rumlow's murderer, uncovering some dark details along the way...
Warnings: Murder, blood, description of a murder scene, description of violent rituals, brief mention of racism, brief mention of surgery/anaesthesia. Strictly 18+, do not read or interact if you are under 18.