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Hydra agent #1: *Points weapon at Y/N and Bucky* What is your purpose in this base?
Hydra agent #2: Yeah. And no lies.
Y/N: Well, then, I confess, it is my intention to commandeer one of these ships.
Y/N: Pick up the rest of the Avengers in Switzerland, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out.
Hydra agent #2: I said no lies!
Y/N and Bucky: *Looks at each other and rolls their eyes*
Y/N, to Bucky: You take idiot number one and I’ll take idiot number two.
Bucky: You got it.
*A few moments later*
Y/N: Well that was easy.
Bucky: Yeah, tell me about it.
Y/N: Say, why don’t we go get some pizza before we go pick up the others?
Bucky: Alright! But you’re paying this time.
Y/N: Aw, come on! I paid last time.
Bucky: No, you didn’t. You drove us to get pizza then you “accidentally” left your wallet in the truck, went to go get it and didn’t come back in until I paid.
Y/N: Pfft! I- thought I left it in the truck! *Mumbles* it just so happens I had it in my jacket the whole time…
Bucky: Ya know I have super hearing right?
Y/N:…
Y/N: *Starts running* Last one to the ship pays for pizza!!
Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)
Summary: Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.
Word count:5k
Warnings: Some rising tensions, corset drama, and a little more fluff <3
a/n: I love love feedback, so let me know what you think!! There’s some angst on the horizon
“Darling, have you seen the view from the east window?” Bucky called, his voice distant from the other end of the dining table.
“Prince James, this is the third morning in a row you’ve asked me that.”
“Well, this is the third morning in a row that you’ve sat so far away.”
You glanced up from your breakfast with a small smile, your brow arched. “It is customary for us to sit here,” you explained, motioning toward the chairs opposite to each other. “That’s why your staff set the table this way.”
“Customary for who?”
“Royals, Prince James.”
Bucky scoffed, his chair scraping the floor as he got up, his plate clinking against his fork as he gripped it between rushed fingers. It took about four, long steps before he reached the seat to your left, and then he pulled it out with just as much dramatism.
“Perhaps, as a pair, we do away with royal customs that have me sitting a mile away from my wife,” he concluded, plopping down on cushion and wood with a grace he certainly hadn’t learned from a court tutor. “Besides, I’m thinking that whoever created that rule must not have been married to you.”
Your face burned as it usually did when he made comments like that. Bucky seemed to love making your relationship feel like a casual affair, as if your union hadn’t been set in stone for years, the pairing a political tactic your father used to send you away. He seemed to love making you feel like he was falling for you by choice.
“We are not even married,” you reminded him. “No matter how many times you call me your wife.”
Wife—a word he used with frequency, as of late.
He hummed. “Not yet, my princess.”
His foot slid to meet yours under the table; a small brush, but a purposeful one. You lost your breath for a moment as Bucky continued to eat his breakfast, feigning indifference with a bite of bread just as his ankle brushed yours. And then his eyes turned up to yours with a knowing glint. But before you could say anything back, the dining room doors opened with an echoing boom.
“I apologize, Your Highnesses,” an unsure voice sounded. “But… well Prince James, the queen is going over a few last minute preparations for tomorrow, and she said that you insisted on being the one to confirm the guest list.”
Bucky’s eyes refused to leave yours as he replied, “Thank you, Peter. You can tell my mother that I—”
“She told me not to come back unless you were with me,” Peter interrupted, a small, apologetic smile etched onto his face.
You bit back a laugh at the vexation blooming along Bucky’s brow, his jaw ticking as he finally tore his eyes from you. He went back and forth with Peter for a while, trying to demand more time with you since he was the one that decided whether or not Peter got knighted. But the witty squire took those empty threats in stride, further insisting that the queen was still the one he reported to.
Well, until the coronation anyway. And the wedding.
“Fine,” Bucky finally huffed, discontentedly. “If my mother truly needs me at this very moment, I suppose I will miss out on my fleeting, invaluable time with the princess here.”
You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. “I will see you tomorrow night, Prince James.”
“Yes, but there will be so many people there. And they will all want to dance with you. I hardly think I will get a moment of your time before you are whisked away in the arms of some old commander or nobleman.”
If you were being honest, the night was going to go exactly as Bucky described it. It was a ball to welcome the new princess to court; a way to introduce you to the neighboring lands and get the government of Brookshire acquainted with their soon to be queen. You would have to laugh at bad jokes and dance with old men and wear those heels that Bucky insisted you shove into the far corner of your closet.
You would have very little time with the prince, and while that saddened you, it also afforded you a sliver of unkind reality.
This night was what your entire life had been—your life before Bucky. So it would be easy to fall back into the routine, to smile when you didn’t want to and dance with those you didn’t know. You’d dance the waltzes ingrained in your muscle memory and slink back into dark corners when the men started discussing the country’s politics. And it would be okay. Because back in Hyland, you’d end these nights alone in your quarters, feeling empty and used.
But tomorrow night, you had a feeling you wouldn’t have to feel that way. That maybe, if you asked, Bucky would be there, ready and willing to make you feel whole again.
“Perhaps you would be better off finding a moment of my time after the ball then?”
Bucky’s smile was vibrant, his hands reaching out to brush your hair from your eyes as he stood from the table. He kept your cheeks between his hands for a moment longer, admiring you with your spoon still held out in front of you, an unexpecting expression on your face.
“I will,” he affirmed, leaning down to press a kiss on your hairline. You almost dropped your spoon. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.”
Yes—you were positive that while the ball would be draining, Bucky… Bucky would be everything you needed to fix that. Everything you needed all along.
~~
The corset pulled tighter around your ribs, Natasha wincing with each tug as she kneeled before you, lacing the shoes you surely couldn’t reach anymore. The royal dresser let out a huff from behind you before wiping her brow and tying off the ribbon. She bowed, handed Natasha the rest of your formal wear, and then left with a smile.
“She was nice,” Natasha hummed, helping you into the rest of your dress.
“I don’t think I have ever had a dresser apologize so many times,” you remarked, trying to relieve some tension on your waist. “I think she thought I was going to pass out.”
“Well, it has been some time since you last wore a corset.”
“I cannot believe I used to wear these every day,” you exasperated.
Natasha grumbled at that, replying snarkily, “You used to be forced to wear them every day.”
She laced together the final pieces of your dress, the tool and silk falling in beautiful waves along the floor. You adjusted your posture once more, trying to find a comfortable position to breathe. You were sure you looked like the perfect picture of the monarchy, but you truly were out of practice when it came to royal dress; Bucky and the ladies of this court were quite adamant that day dresses and comfortable footwear were more than acceptable for your daily life.
It was nothing like back at home, with metal binding constantly strapped to your back and your toes constantly pinched together in tiny shoes.
You comforted your friend with a hand on her shoulder and an understanding look. You knew how much she hated your treatment back in Hyland. But she knew that if she ever said anything, the small privileges she was afforded would’ve been taken from her in a single blink. And her position would’ve dropped as well, sending her far, far away from you.
“It’s okay, Natasha. It’s different here.” You took careful steps to the door, reaching for the brass handles, knowing the guards were waiting for you on the other side. “I think it will stay that way.”
The walk to the ballroom was glistening—the floors, the walls, the lights. You were in the south wing of the castle, where the balls were held and the guests resided, and—apparently—where all of the marble in the kingdom was held. You found yourself missing the charming cobblestone and tile that made up the wing you stayed in. You missed the wide open windows and the linen curtains that rustled each morning. The ocean that woke you up with a different kind of gleam… the kind that lit up the oil paintings on your walls and slid along your skin in delicate patterns.
When Steve gave you a tour upon your arrival, you hadn’t noticed the contrast as much; the castle was so large and you were taken into so many rooms. But it was jarring now—the stiffness of the guest wing. You wondered why your wing was so different, since Bucky obviously stayed there as well. You wondered who the designers had in mind when they put together the comfort that you loved so much.
“Are you ready?” Natasha whispered by your ear. You hadn’t even noticed the grand doors in front of you, their intricate wooden patterns waiting to be pushed open. You could hear the music on the other side, the sounds of expensive shoes against polished marble.
“Of course,” you replied, but your voice wasn’t as strong as you remembered it to be just moments before.
The doors were opened anyway.
Immediate silence. Violins stopped, the people parted; you stood just beyond the doors, head held high in a feigned confidence—a product of years and years of practice. The announcer called out your name and title in a voice you were so used to, and your next job was simply to smile and walk in. To make your way to the seat at the head of the room, and sit until you were asked to dance by one of the expensive shoes.
But then Bucky was there, stepping in your path with his hand held out in offerance. Bucky was there and he was smiling at you with those boyish eyes, still so youthful even when paired with his royal military uniform.
You took a glance back at Natasha, questioning your next move; she had never led you astray. With a small smile, she nodded her head, and you turned to take the hand you never quite let yourself believe would be there when you were growing up.
The music began the second Bucky took your waist. It was the Merry Widow Waltz, a dance you’d learned just after you were able to walk. An admittedly glance dance, one to welcome you to the festivities, surely, and you were glad when other couples joined the floor soon after—less attention on you, were you to mess up the steps.
Bucky guided you along the floor with practiced ease, tugging you closer to his chest around others, smiling down at you when you risked a glance up at him.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered by your ear, when the dance took you farther away from the center of the floor. “You always do.”
For the first time at any ball, you let a laugh free, “I wasn’t expecting a dance so soon, Prince James. I only just entered the room.”
He released you, using one hand to twirl you away, but quickly capturing your waist back in his grip. This was supposed to be a fast-paced waltz, with the couple leaving distance between each other for quick moves. But Bucky kept the two of you about one step behind the rest of the room, his desire to keep you close slowing you down. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care as his nose brushed yours.
“I told you, princess. You are the star of the evening. I must take all the time I can get.”
The dance ended long before you wanted it to, Bucky parting from you with a bow and wink that left you feeling privy to some information you had never even shared. Maybe that’s just how it felt to be falling in love—like you had some secret that no one else could ever understand.
You ruminated on the thought as the evening progressed. When you were spun around the room and asked about your homeland, all you could think about were the eyes tracking you from the far side of the ball, how they looked at you in a way that no one else did. When your gloved hand was kissed by noblemen and governors, you were reminded of the way Bucky kissed your hand, and your head and your fingers… how each touch of his lips sent you falling down a well of uncharted feelings.
You thought about kissing him back.
You were only pulled from your clouded daze when it was time to actually meet the other royals in the room—the whole purpose of the evening. Steve stood beside you on the steps leading up to the thrones, his shined and polished shoes just a tad bit untied.
“This is King T’Challa. He rules over Wakanda. Brookshire does a lot of trade with his kingdom.”
“It is lovely to meet you,” you greeted, shoulder slightly pressing against Steve’s chest in familiarity. “I am so excited to become more acquainted with you and your people.”
The king gave you a firm handshake and a smile, but didn’t stick around for small talk. He was one of the easier royals to meet—kind but to the point. The rest of the gentlemen were more chatty, some of the women were more stiff. A few younger royals came up to speak about future prospects and Steve had to shoo them away with a small laugh. Natasha joined you on the steps after the fourth group that came to bow and meet you, and you relaxed more then.
“Almost done,” Steve promised, a strong hand placed on your arm. “I believe there is only one more guest we have yet to meet. She arrived a little late but I saw her and her—ah, Sharon!”
You looked up from your shoes, eyes falling on the blonde in purple silk making her way to the front of the room. You recognized her; she danced with Bucky three songs after you arrived. Not that you were keeping track. A lot of people were dancing with Bucky tonight.
She reached you and offered a small smile, one you reciprocated with ease and a bow. “It is nice to finally meet you, Princess y/n,” she said, her head dipping.
“Finally?” you questioned. Queen Sharon was the ruler of Madripoor, a place you only learned about after arriving in Brookshire. You definitely hadn’t had any correspondence before this.
“Yes, I feel as if I already know you!” she laughed. “Bucky speaks of you so freely. I swear you were on his mind before he even got the chance to ask poor Steve what you looked like.”
You blinked, the use of Bucky’s name surprising you. Well—the use of his name along with Steve’s, and of the familiarity this queen seemed to have with your fiancé. But Bucky had an entire life before you came along, and you needed to remember that. It was just jarring since the past weeks had been secluded to the two of you. This was the first time you had come into contact with the outside world since you arrived in Brookshire, and a small kind of bubble was bursting.
“Oh, of course,” you conceded, with a laugh you had practiced many times. “I suppose there is much to talk about when you’ve been engaged for so many years.”
“Yes, many years.”
Her tone confused you, its slight bite unwarranted and out of place. You pretended it didn’t with another fake laugh. You couldn’t quite mask the tightness in your throat, however, the night verging on overwhelming, especially with this queen’s terseness. You took half a step back to reach the comfort of your friends.
“Well, it was so nice to formally meet you. I’m sure we will be seeing each other often with how close you are to this court.” Almost through gritted teeth. Almost. Natasha’s subtle hand on your wrist kept you polite.
Sharon’s exit was as graceful as her entrance, this time with Steve following behind her with an invitation to dance. You were fairly certain he only did that for you, Natasha’s quick glance over at your cousin conveying all that it needed to.
You turned to your lady in waiting the second Sharon was out of ear shot. “I know I’m not too versed in this kind of thing, but was she…? She didn’t like me, did she?”
Natasha gave you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure there are many here tonight that are—wanting for your situation. It can make them bitter.”
“Wanting for my situation?” you questioned, baffled. “And what situation is that?”
“Y/n, your fiancé would be the most eligible bachelor in the continent if not for you. You must know that. A crown, a kingdom, a face like that—he has it all, and you took it before they even had a chance.”
You reared back at her insinuation. “It’s not as if I had a choice. You know that better than anyone here.”
“I know, I know,” she placated. “But it does not help when all of the women in the room keep trying to catch his attention and he won’t stop staring at you like that.”
You snapped your gaze in the direction of her hand, spotting Bucky in the center of the ballroom, a champagne flute between his fingers and a dazed look on his face as he seemingly ignored the nobleman talking his ear off. He was ignoring him in favor of watching you, and he didn’t show any signs of getting bored.
Your eyes turning to him was all the confirmation he needed to end his mundane conversation, his drink suddenly pushed into the hands of an unexpecting man. He weaved through the crowd with small apologies and light smiles until he found the base of the stairs, and you did as well, your feet guiding you down to him subconsciously.
“Princess,” he greeted, breathless. “Am I correct in assuming that this next moment of time belongs to me?”
Your smile was contagious, any ill feelings left by the thrones, far away from Bucky. “Completely.”
And even though your feet hurt terribly and your chest struggled to capture a full breath, you felt lightheaded as he whisked you to the floor, carefree. He gathered you in his arms and you were transported to the horses and the flowers and the rays of canary-colored sun that usually came with his citrusy scent, the hints of early morning tea and comfort all wrapped up in the man holding you so closely.
But then the music started, and you were very abruptly thrown out of the dreamy solace you loved so much.
“I do not know this dance,” you panicked. “Prince James, this waltz—what is it?”
Bucky shook his head with fond eyes, his thumb brushing down your temple. “There is no waltz for this dance, my princess.”
You gaped. “I will embarrass you. I’ve never danced without a waltz before. I’ll look like a fool, Prince James, I cannot—”
“I requested this song for you.” Bucky kept his voice low, and you struggled to maintain a calm state with others dancing around you, apparently so sure of the next steps to take. “They play it at every ball, but there isn’t one dance for it.” He let both of his hands trail down to your waist—certainly not a proper position. “Let me show you.”
Your heart beating out of your chest, your palms damp from panic, you nodded your head because as much as you hated to admit it, you’d let Bucky show you just about anything.
And so he showed you.
His hands never left your waist, even when the rest of the room parted to spin and take up hands with others. He consistently held you to him, and his laugh echoing against your chest was the sweetest sound, surpassing any melodic flutes or violins in the space.
You had no idea what pattern your feet were making, nor how many times you had spun around in the same spot on the floor, but Bucky didn’t seem to care. His fingers ran up the boning of your corset and brushed the small bit of exposed skin above your shoulders; they trailed there until he pressed his palm to your neck as well, ushering your head to his chest.
The music kept its upbeat tune, but you did not, because Bucky held you there instead. The reverberation of heels and leather pounded into the soles of your shoes, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to move—couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the consistent thud of Bucky’s sweet heart was there against your cheek and wholly, completely yours.
You pulled away slightly, head light from the champagne or your fiancé’s touch, you couldn’t tell. “Bucky,” you whispered, a secret in the air between you, one he would surely keep. “Shall we leave?”
And although it was long before the others would turn in, some guests even staying the night due to how long they would dance, Bucky couldn’t help but give you anything you ever wanted.
“Of course, my darling.”
He would think about the way his name sounded on your lips every night for the next week, but for now, he held your waist as you giggled and pretended to sneak around confused party guests. He fell in love with you just a little more, watching your dress slide against unused marble, knowing that the girl he chased through the halls was just that—a girl. Not a royal or a pawn to be moved around.
But you were his girl, and that made all the difference.
~~
“They are sleeping, princess.”
“You told me there were ducks here.”
“I am very sorry to disappoint,” Bucky laughed, feigning sincerity with a hand over his chest.
You hummed. “You don’t seem very sorry.” You stepped back from the pond, taking a seat on the bench under the aging willow. “In fact, you appear to be very amused by my sorrow.”
Bucky scoffed, rounding his side of the tree to come and join you. He was mused from the night, his hair disheveled and his collar askew; he looked kissed by joy and roused by the dim shine of the moon, and you were having trouble conjuring any other picture of beauty.
“I can assure you,” he spoke out to the pond, his thigh pressing to yours. “Your sorrow could never amuse me. Shall I find a groundskeeper to wake the ducks? Would that appease you, my princess?”
“Of course not. Then the ducks would resent me.”
He turned to you, adoration shining with the stars in his eyes. “We wouldn’t want that.”
With the crickets blaring amongst the high brush by the spring pond, the water rippling with small life, you leaned your shoulder into his. Bucky responded with a brush of his fingers against yours on the surface of the bench, capturing them after only a moment’s hesitation. When he pressed your palms together, words were falling from your mouth before you could stop them.
“I would paint this,” you admitted, only a little embarrassed. “I used to paint. In secret.”
Bucky’s thumb brushed the back of your hand before he responded, “I know. Steve would tell me of your works—how beautiful they were. I don’t know if you got my letters—”
“I got them,” you interrupted. “I just… I didn’t think they were coming from you. I thought they were a ploy from your court. Some obligatory correspondence.”
“They were from me. All of them.”
You knew this. After all of your time with Bucky, you knew that those words were his and his alone; that his sentiments were sincere and that he was a kind prince that would turn into an even more benevolent king.
Minus the ducks of course.
“You could still paint here. If you’d like to, of course,” Bucky whispered. It was almost lost in the rustling willow leaves.
You took in a large breath, gearing up for a long protest about why that was unnecessary—your hobbies were not something that should take up the time of others—when a sharp pain sprouted just below your ribs. The corset, of course; sitting too long with your chest confined in such a way was never good for heavy breathing. You attempted to ground yourself with a steady hand to your stomach, but Bucky was more observant than that.
“Are you alright?” he stressed, standing and bringing you along with him. “Did the tasters miss something? Have you been poisoned?”
Your laugh was stifled by the steel boning along your waist. “No, Bucky, I am fine. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Thank you for the dismissal but everything to do with you is my concern.”
You focused on the soft pressure of Bucky’s hands on your hips as you steadied your breathing; you had a lot of practice with this kind of feeling, and after a few moments it would pass. But with Bucky tilting his head to catch your eyes, the worry set deep in his brow, you were having a hard time with the otherwise simple task. When he brushed his touch up to your chin, angling your gaze to his, you were no longer sure if the corset was the problem.
“What is it?” he asked, so gently you almost fell into the words
“My corset. I’m just not accustomed to the restriction anymore. It will pass, Bucky, just give me a moment.”
“It’s so tight that it’s hurting you?”
“That is typically the purpose of a corset,” you jested, a grim smile passing over your face.
Bucky shot forward, quick hands coming around you to find the hooks of your gown. “You must take it off.”
It took you a moment to register his words, but as his nimble fingers found the top clasp of your dress, you knocked his arms away at the absurdity.
“I cannot!“ you exclaimed. “If someone were to see me undressing out here with you, there would be an unstoppable onslaught of rumors.”
Bucky huffed, now a slight tightness in his jaw, more concern shining through. “Rumors about what, darling? A couple, engaged to be married, having a secret rendezvous by the pond? I’m sure there is more interesting court gossip than that.”
“We are not yet married.”
“And I am simply trying to ensure that my fiancée doesn’t suffocate,” Bucky rushed, attempting once again to free you from the uncomfortable garment. He got a clasp free this time.
You slid back, unraveling yourself from his arms. “Prince James!” you scolded.
“Back to that? I’ve become so fond of hearing you say my name.”
“Fine,Bucky,” you tried. “Either way, you cannot take my corset off. It is… extremely improper. The dressers have to do that, and they typically prefer to do it inside.”
With all of your frustrated huffs and helpless quips, you found yourself struggling more and more to capture a full breath. Your chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, your hands coming up to set comfort into your stomach, but finding little solace there. You were panicked at the prospect of someone finding you out here, half dressed, but the alternative—keeping the corset on—was becoming impossible.
What surprised you, however, was your lack of discomfort at the idea of Bucky pulling the laces from your back. You hadn’t even given that aspect of it all a second thought when he reached for you, instead focusing on the humiliation of discovery. You didn’t have time to unpack those feelings; Bucky was talking again, low and comforting.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” An answer without hesitation—without thinking.
He smiled, softly. “Then turn around.”
Your gaze flickered between his eyes a few more times, your skin resisting the soft breeze on your cheeks. Bucky’s lips parted before he reached for you, and the sword he had strapped to his hip on the way out the door clinked against the metal of his belt. It took one final, nervous wring of your hands and you were facing the willow again, blind to Bucky’s actions.
His fingers touched you first—tentative against your neck, sweeping the ties from your necklace away from the laces of your corset. They lingered there, and you could feel the gentle puff of his breath prickle your skin. He trailed down the indent of your spine until he met the base of the ribbon.
The first pull left a sound resonating past the pond, silk brushing against silk, cotton releasing from its bind. Bucky’s left hand came up to steady your waist in an unnecessary touch. It warmed you through your dress, consumed you like a fire that bloomed up past your neck and spread through your mind.
And then he pulled again and again and again, each tug loosening your chest and constricting it for a completely different reason. You held the corset against you when it fully released, and Bucky let his hands slide up your arms as you stood there, lashes fluttering for someone that couldn’t see it.
“Is that better?”
“Yes,” you breathed out, unable to turn around. “Much better, thank you.”
Lips behind your ear, stealing all of the air from your body with their gentle pressure. “We must get you back in your room before others see you in such a state of undress.” His hands squeezed your arms. “I think my quarters are closer.”
Your face burned, turning on the heel of your shoe with gusto. “I think you are pushing it.”
Bucky reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, playful eyes never straying lower than your lips. “I was only joking, my darling,” he hummed, cupping your cheek in his hand. You leaned into it instantly. “I’d wait forever for you. You know that, don’t you?”
And a part of you, the part that was growing and becoming so used to Bucky’s sweet disposition, did know.
You’d sound completely insane if you ever told anyone your greatest secret. Even so, you’ve often found yourself wondering how someone would react just on the off change that you did decide to share it with them. Would they laugh it off as a good joke? Scoff while telling you you’re an attention seeker? Hell, insist it enough and they might ship you off to an asylum.
To be honest, it hasn’t always been a secret. As a child, you were rather open towards expressing yourself and your inner thoughts, but of course, children are allowed to talk nonsense, aren’t they. Back then, people would just smile, impressed by your extremely detailed imagination and very ‘mature’ personality for someone so young. By the time you reached middle school, however, it was no longer cute to insist you don’t need school since you already have two PhD’s and will be eighty-four in the summer which, in your opinion at least, was far too old to be stuck with preteens gossiping about boy bands and wearing revealing shorts that barely covered their butts.
When the weird stares and hurtful mocking became apparent, you learned to keep your mouth shut and maintain the secret that you are two people at once…and no, this isn’t a case of personality disorder; you ruled out that conclusion by the time you were fourteen. No, this is a case of having been reborn again sixteen years after dying yet somehow maintaining all the memories your past life had experienced.
Beyond anyone else’s understanding and sometimes even your own, your story technically began on July 21st, 1919, in Richford, New York when you had been born as the second child and daughter of a far more modest Stark family. Your parents, ever so old fashioned, decided to keep with the 'H’ theme they began with your brother, naming you Hollie. As Hollie, you lived a wonderful life, having a fair share of both love and heartache before being murdered in 1974 which you honestly could’ve done without.
While death usually marks the end of most people’s stories, apparently good old Hollie Stark was too stubborn to go out after round one, instead deciding to come back as (Y/n) (L/n) in 1990; a life you’ve been living for the last twenty years now.
Despite how much you enjoy your life as (Y/n), it hasn’t been easy starting over again. You carry all the knowledge that comes with having navigated life once before and, with that said, the connections you had made as Hollie still hold strong within your heart yet remain high out of reach for someone as ordinary and young as (Y/n).
Regardless of whether others believe it, deep down you know that you are Hollie and long for the life that had been stolen from her throughout countless moments of her time. You miss your brother and nephew, you miss your best friend as well as the good you did together for the world, and most importantly of all, you miss your beloved James Buchanan Barnes; the man Hollie’s heart had been set on marrying only for the war to tear him out of grasp.
Most of whom you love are gone as are the exact opportunities you had as Hollie, but as you’ve come to stubbornly conclude, that doesn’t necessarily mean (Y/n) can’t try to follow in some of her footsteps, too.
“(L/n), he’ll be seeing you now.”
You stand to your feet with your resume folder in hand, bowing your head with a polite smile to the receptionist as you pass by into the office. While you’ve learned long ago not to ever get your hopes up, you can’t help but feel a bubble of confidence as you take another seat, eagerly prepared to start living your life where the previous one left off.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Director Fury. My name is (Y/n) (L/n).”
OVERVIEW: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinishedbusiness, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.
NOTE:Reader will use the name Hollie Stark and female pronouns during or when referring to past events, but will be use (Y/n) (L/n) and gender neutral for current events.
Summary: When you’re home alone, you convince yourself that Bucky deserves more
Warning: insecure reader, angst, throwing up, heartbreak, i don’t mean any hate toward natasha during this fic, let’s be honest if my bf was hanging around natasha i’d be insecure, have you seen her???
A/n: was requested (@scorpionchild81) but put my own spin on it to fit my 1k celebration! sorry it’s so short :(
You grip the toilet tighter as you throw up, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’ve been throwing up for what seems like hours, but you’ve been crying for weeks. This happens every time Bucky goes on a mission, leaving you all alone. Things are perfect when Bucky is home, but as soon as he leaves… The doubt sets in.
You don’t hear from him for weeks sometimes, you don’t know where he is, who he’s with… You know Bucky loves you, but should he?
How could he really love you, when Natasha is right there next to him? She’s a badass! She’s just like him… She took her trauma and made it into something positive. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s strong…
All you do is sit at home and wait for Bucky to return. You can’t relate to him about much of anything. He’s 100 years old, you’re 23. Natasha might not be able to relate to the age part, but you know how deep their conversations get about their trauma.
Bucky opens up to her about things he won’t dare talk to you about.
You throw up again, your heart breaking in your chest. You don’t know why you even still try to convince him that he should be with you. You know the truth, he should be with Natasha.
You scramble for your phone, dialing Bucky’s number. You haven’t spoken to him since he’s been gone, which hasn’t helped your anxiety. You don’t want to wait until he’s home, you want the relief now. If you’re not with him, you can’t be upset about what he’s doing when he’s gone.
The phone rings, but proceeds to go to voicemail. Your breath hitches in your throat, a tear rolling down your cheek.
“This is Bucky, leave a message. Or don’t, I probably won’t call back either way,”
The sound of his voice has you choking a sob back, your lip trembling. You hear the beep, scrambling to come up with words. “Uh, Bucky… This is y/n,” You say, rolling your eyebrows as you remember he already knows who it is, thanks to caller ID.
“I know you’re busy, but uh, I thought I should tell you now, before you come home,” You say, your voice broken and quiet. You lean your head against the wall behind you, taking a deep breath. You don’t know how to break this to him, especially over the phone.
You know he’ll be better off without you, better off with someone who understands him. “I won’t be home when you come back. I’m sorry, Buck, but I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better, you deserve someone like you,” You say, your voice failing you, sobs taking over. You instantly hang up, not wanting him to hear you cry anymore.
You sob against the bathroom floor, wrapped in his shirt, knowing you’ll never where his clothes again.
—-
You’re in the bathroom of your new apartment, getting ready for bed. You don’t know when Bucky went home, or even if he went home. You’ve blocked his number, not wanting to put yourself through that pain again.
it’s over, there’s no need to rehash things when he gets home. He deserves better, that’s that. You wonder what he did when he got the message. Was he relieved? DId he run to Natasha, telling her that you were gone? Did he even miss you?
No, he doesn’t miss you. You’re not the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over. You’re the kind of girl guys are relieved about when you leave. Finally, the boring nights, meaningless arguments… It’s over.
Natasha is the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over.
You splash water on your face, closing your eyes as the cold water wakes you up. Water runs down your forearms, landing on Bucky’s red henley. You swore you wouldn’t take any of his clothes when you left, but you always did love this shirt.
You inhale deeply, trying to get yourself to relax, to forget about Bucky. You lift your head up, opening your eyes as you stand straight up. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see Bucky standing behind you, his eyes fixed on yours through the mirror.
“Bucky, how the–”
Before you can finish, Bucky is spinning you around, pinning you against the counter. His eyes are red, his lips puffy and his cheeks red. “How could you?” He asks, breathlessly.
You gulp, your bottom lip trembling. It’s obvious he’s been wrecked, just like you have been. It’s obvious you’ve broken his heart.
“Bucky, I had to. You deserve better,” You whisper, your voice breaking.
Bucky shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “Better? I deserve better?”
You push past him, not wanting to be trapped in this tiny bathroom with him. “You need to leave,” You say, trying to convince yourself that’s what you want.
Bucky follows you, using his metal arm to grab your flesh one. The metal of his fingers burn into your skin, digging into your bone. “Tell me, y/n. If I don’t deserve you, what do I deserve?”
You refuse to look at his eyes. You don’t answer, wanting this to be over already. You were at peace with your decision, why did he have to come back?
“Tell me!’ He barks, raising his voice. You finally look at him, watching the tears stream down his face.
"Natasha, alright? You deserve Natasha!” You say, jerking your arm away from him.
Bucky furrows his eyebrows, taking a step back. “Natasha…?” He asks, muttering under his breath. You wipe your eyes, sniffling.
“What are you talking about?”
You shake your head, dropping your eyes to the ground. “You deserve someone like you, Buck. I can’t understand you. I can try, I can pretend I understand you, but there are things I’ll never understand about you, because I’ve never gone through what you’ve gone through. Natasha has… I can never be what you need,” You admit, your tears rolling down your cheeks.
Bucky stares at you blankly, his lips parted. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Y/n… Natasha is a friend. She’s my friend because she understands what I’ve gone through. But… For you to try to put yourself in my shoes… To try to understand me, that’s what makes you a good girlfriend. I don’t need you to understand me, I just need you to love me.” Bucky reassures you, his voice soft.
You keep your eyes on the ground, sniffling quietly.
Bucky moves closer to you, reaching out and wrapping his arms around you. You fall into his touch, snuggling against his chest. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel human. I love Natasha, but part of me still feels like a monster when I’m on a mission. It reminds me of everything I went through. The best part of a mission is coming home to you, coming home and feeling like a human. You’re the only person who makes it all go away,” He says, cradling your head against his chest.
You allow him to hold you, soaking in his presence. The past few days have been horrible. You’ve been trying to distract yourself from the fact that your heart was breaking in two. You missed having Bucky in bed with you. You missed waking up next to Bucky.
You don’t want to be without Bucky, you want to be with him for the rest of your life. You just want him to have what he deserves. You lift your head, sniffling. “You’re sure I’m what you want?” You ask, your voice quiet.
Bucky cradles your face in his bruised hands, a smile slowly creeping across his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,”
Summary: When you’re home alone, you convince yourself that Bucky deserves more
Warning: insecure reader, angst, throwing up, heartbreak, i don’t mean any hate toward natasha during this fic, let’s be honest if my bf was hanging around natasha i’d be insecure, have you seen her???
A/n: was requested (@scorpionchild81) but put my own spin on it to fit my 1k celebration! sorry it’s so short :(
You grip the toilet tighter as you throw up, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’ve been throwing up for what seems like hours, but you’ve been crying for weeks. This happens every time Bucky goes on a mission, leaving you all alone. Things are perfect when Bucky is home, but as soon as he leaves… The doubt sets in.
You don’t hear from him for weeks sometimes, you don’t know where he is, who he’s with… You know Bucky loves you, but should he?
How could he really love you, when Natasha is right there next to him? She’s a badass! She’s just like him… She took her trauma and made it into something positive. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s strong…
All you do is sit at home and wait for Bucky to return. You can’t relate to him about much of anything. He’s 100 years old, you’re 23. Natasha might not be able to relate to the age part, but you know how deep their conversations get about their trauma.
Bucky opens up to her about things he won’t dare talk to you about.
You throw up again, your heart breaking in your chest. You don’t know why you even still try to convince him that he should be with you. You know the truth, he should be with Natasha.
You scramble for your phone, dialing Bucky’s number. You haven’t spoken to him since he’s been gone, which hasn’t helped your anxiety. You don’t want to wait until he’s home, you want the relief now. If you’re not with him, you can’t be upset about what he’s doing when he’s gone.
The phone rings, but proceeds to go to voicemail. Your breath hitches in your throat, a tear rolling down your cheek.
“This is Bucky, leave a message. Or don’t, I probably won’t call back either way,”
The sound of his voice has you choking a sob back, your lip trembling. You hear the beep, scrambling to come up with words. “Uh, Bucky… This is y/n,” You say, rolling your eyebrows as you remember he already knows who it is, thanks to caller ID.
“I know you’re busy, but uh, I thought I should tell you now, before you come home,” You say, your voice broken and quiet. You lean your head against the wall behind you, taking a deep breath. You don’t know how to break this to him, especially over the phone.
You know he’ll be better off without you, better off with someone who understands him. “I won’t be home when you come back. I’m sorry, Buck, but I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better, you deserve someone like you,” You say, your voice failing you, sobs taking over. You instantly hang up, not wanting him to hear you cry anymore.
You sob against the bathroom floor, wrapped in his shirt, knowing you’ll never where his clothes again.
—-
You’re in the bathroom of your new apartment, getting ready for bed. You don’t know when Bucky went home, or even if he went home. You’ve blocked his number, not wanting to put yourself through that pain again.
it’s over, there’s no need to rehash things when he gets home. He deserves better, that’s that. You wonder what he did when he got the message. Was he relieved? DId he run to Natasha, telling her that you were gone? Did he even miss you?
No, he doesn’t miss you. You’re not the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over. You’re the kind of girl guys are relieved about when you leave. Finally, the boring nights, meaningless arguments… It’s over.
Natasha is the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over.
You splash water on your face, closing your eyes as the cold water wakes you up. Water runs down your forearms, landing on Bucky’s red henley. You swore you wouldn’t take any of his clothes when you left, but you always did love this shirt.
You inhale deeply, trying to get yourself to relax, to forget about Bucky. You lift your head up, opening your eyes as you stand straight up. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see Bucky standing behind you, his eyes fixed on yours through the mirror.
“Bucky, how the–”
Before you can finish, Bucky is spinning you around, pinning you against the counter. His eyes are red, his lips puffy and his cheeks red. “How could you?” He asks, breathlessly.
You gulp, your bottom lip trembling. It’s obvious he’s been wrecked, just like you have been. It’s obvious you’ve broken his heart.
“Bucky, I had to. You deserve better,” You whisper, your voice breaking.
Bucky shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “Better? I deserve better?”
You push past him, not wanting to be trapped in this tiny bathroom with him. “You need to leave,” You say, trying to convince yourself that’s what you want.
Bucky follows you, using his metal arm to grab your flesh one. The metal of his fingers burn into your skin, digging into your bone. “Tell me, y/n. If I don’t deserve you, what do I deserve?”
You refuse to look at his eyes. You don’t answer, wanting this to be over already. You were at peace with your decision, why did he have to come back?
“Tell me!’ He barks, raising his voice. You finally look at him, watching the tears stream down his face.
"Natasha, alright? You deserve Natasha!” You say, jerking your arm away from him.
Bucky furrows his eyebrows, taking a step back. “Natasha…?” He asks, muttering under his breath. You wipe your eyes, sniffling.
“What are you talking about?”
You shake your head, dropping your eyes to the ground. “You deserve someone like you, Buck. I can’t understand you. I can try, I can pretend I understand you, but there are things I’ll never understand about you, because I’ve never gone through what you’ve gone through. Natasha has… I can never be what you need,” You admit, your tears rolling down your cheeks.
Bucky stares at you blankly, his lips parted. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Y/n… Natasha is a friend. She’s my friend because she understands what I’ve gone through. But… For you to try to put yourself in my shoes… To try to understand me, that’s what makes you a good girlfriend. I don’t need you to understand me, I just need you to love me.” Bucky reassures you, his voice soft.
You keep your eyes on the ground, sniffling quietly.
Bucky moves closer to you, reaching out and wrapping his arms around you. You fall into his touch, snuggling against his chest. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel human. I love Natasha, but part of me still feels like a monster when I’m on a mission. It reminds me of everything I went through. The best part of a mission is coming home to you, coming home and feeling like a human. You’re the only person who makes it all go away,” He says, cradling your head against his chest.
You allow him to hold you, soaking in his presence. The past few days have been horrible. You’ve been trying to distract yourself from the fact that your heart was breaking in two. You missed having Bucky in bed with you. You missed waking up next to Bucky.
You don’t want to be without Bucky, you want to be with him for the rest of your life. You just want him to have what he deserves. You lift your head, sniffling. “You’re sure I’m what you want?” You ask, your voice quiet.
Bucky cradles your face in his bruised hands, a smile slowly creeping across his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,”
Series Summary:She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…
Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count:4900+
A/N: I’m so sorry about this being late! My wifi went out the other day and I’m just now getting to posting since then. In saying that, I briefed through this chapter once, so please don’t pay mind to any typos! I’m going to fix them asap. Besides that, ENJOY and as always, let me know what you think!!!!! xoxooxo
Chapter 9:
A week had gone by.
A week where Bucky felt like he was completely and utterly out of his realm.
He wanted to lend a hand, but everytime he would build up the courage to make his way to Y/N’s room, Nat would answer the door or be coming out saying she needed rest or just some time alone.
She had become really protective over Y/N in the time and turned down missions, which led Steve to jump back in on them. Though Steve wanted to be there for her as well, Nat really tried to help Y/N get the space from others that she knew she needed. So it was just easier for him to take on other tasks and check in with Nat over the phone for updates.
However, he saw Clint go in on a few occasions, even Sam went in at one time. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed, but from what Sam had told him, she wasn’t very responsive and still hadn’t healed herself.
Apparently, Sam was only invited in because Nat knew he had the therapy background to help, and with how close he was to Y/N, she was hoping that she would open up some.
The most recent time he went over, he hid behind the corner of the hall overhearing what the doctor who had stopped in said to Nat.
“She’ll be fine. Right now it’s more so the grieving process more than anything. She does heal faster than most even without her intentionally healing herself. She should be back to normal minus a little soreness by the end of the week.”
“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it,” Nat nodded before he walked away, and he watched as she thought she was alone, somewhat holding back a tear. She took a deep breath and somehow plastered on a gentle smile before going back into the room.
He wanted to help. He did. But this kind of help and going and punching a guy for stealing government information were two very drastically different types of help.
It’s not like grief was anything new to him. Hell, he grieved a lot given his past. He grieved the life he could have had, the innocents he harmed, the families he affected, the choices he could have made… The list went on.
But helping someone else navigate grief when you’re still trying to solve the impossible equation yourself, seems impossible to do.
The only thing Nat had really let him to help with, given the multiple times he had offered, was to take care of Ryker.
Y/N was never in the mood to leave her room and the poor dog hated to leave her, but he still needed fresh air himself and bathroom breaks regularly.
Bucky had seemed to be the only person besides Y/N that he would let take him out and hang out with when he wasn’t wrapped up in her side.
He would take him on walks, feed and water him, take him to the bathroom early in the morning, late at night, and a few times during the day when Nat would lure him out of the room.
They had bonded actually pretty well and Ryker had taken a close bond to Bucky.
Currently, Nat was helping Y/N to go take a shower, so they were lounged out in the living room. Bucky had put a movie on for background noise, and Ryker was laying against his side on the couch while they waited for the all clear to come back.
The rottweiler had been sad and mopey the past week, so when he perked up and stared at the doorway of the living room, Bucky sat up some.
“What is it, Ryk?” Bucky asked, looking in the same direction then back at the dog whose nose started to twitch. “Ryker?”
The dog jumped up and barked, running straight in the direction of the kitchen without any warning.
Bucky was quick to his feet, shouting the dog’s name hoping he wasn’t about to attack someone. He slid past the threshold of the kitchen from just wearing socks and lounge clothes and caught himself before turning into the room where Ryker was jumping up on someone.
“Ryker!” he shouted, rushing to aid the person before seeing who it was.
“It’s ok,” a giggle came out from the red head. “I missed you too, pal.” She cooed at the giddy pet.
“Wanda?” Bucky quirked his head to the side, finally taking in the person’s presence.
She turned around showing her face now. She was slightly bent down, accommodating the dog jumping up and down, before he finally settled to nuzzling her knees with his nose and making happy noises at her.
“Hey, Barnes,” she grinned softly. “Long time no see.”
He let out a small chuckle and walked over to her giving her a big hug of which she returned.
“How are you kid?” he chuckled some at seeing the friendly face.
“I’m good. We’re good,” she corrected, with a small laugh.
Vision came into view with a few bags in hand and Bucky smiled at the other friend.
“Oh God. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you two,” he smiled going over and giving Vision a brotherly hug as well.
After the whole accords thing, Bucky and Wanda became somewhat close being on Steve’s team during it all. Unfortunately, they didn’t get to know each other much after Wanda went into hiding and Bucky went to Wakanda, but after the snap and after the final battle, they made a motive to get to know each other more and it worked.
Wanda, Vision, Sam, Steve, Nat, and Clint all were rather close. Not that the whole Avenger group wasn’t, but that group all had a connection somewhere along the way.
When they weren’t hanging out with one, they were hanging out with the other.
“Wait,” Bucky stopped looking at them and taking in the fact they looked like they had been traveling. “What are you guys doing here?” He looked between them.
“For unfortunate reasons, but I think you can deduct why,” Wanda said with sad pursed lips. “I wish we were coming on better terms, but Nat called and I knew I needed to be here for her.”
“I see…” Bucky nodded knowing what she meant.
“How, um, how is Miss. Y/L/N?” Vision stepped in wrapping an arm around Wanda’s shoulder.
“I wish I could say,” Bucky scratched the back of his neck as he looked down where Ryker had positioned himself next to Wanda, effectively getting small head scratches from her. “Nat hasn’t really been letting me in on her recovery besides helping out with Ryker here,” he nodded to the dog.
“Right…” Wanda shook her head up and down looking at the pet for a second before back at Bucky. “She kinda updated me with everything. Is it true you guys didn’t know each other before all this? I figured Steve would have mentioned her or you would have at least heard of her.”
“Uh, yeah. It’s a new…” How did he word this? Bond? Relationship? “Friendship. Unfortunately it’s all been through mission based things, but I’d like to think we know each other enough to call it that. And I’m a little shocked too. I wouldn’t doubt if Steve or someone else has mentioned her and it’s gone over my head as just some friend from their past.”
Wanda smiled at that. “Well, it’s not hard to grow an attachment to Y/N. She makes it rather easy to bond with her. But either way, thank you for being there for her. I heard what happened in Slovenia. If you weren’t there, I’m not sure we would have Y/N here today.”
Bucky bashfully nodded knowing he should accept the praise, but not feeling worthy as she seemed to be taking more of a hit now than she would if he just let her do what she wanted when everything turned to shit.
However, Wanda was right. If he hadn’t hauled her out of the falling building, their friendship most likely wouldn’t have had a chance to grow any more.
“Are you guys staying in your old room?” Bucky turned the conversation away from him.
“Uh, yeah. I’m going to go put my bags up and then-”
“I’ve got it, darling. You go and check on Y/N,” Vis interrupted her. “I’m going to go check in with Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner.”
There was a quick exchange of silent nods and questioning looks, before Wanda agreed and patted Bucky’s shoulder before heading off to Nat and Y/N, taking Ryker with her as he followed her tail.
Once again, Bucky was left alone and out of the loop of everything. He looked toward the empty doorway and back at the kitchen before deciding, might as well make a meal for everyone.
Wanda had to be starving from travel and Nat had barely taken time to take care of herself during this week, so they deserved the home cooked meal. And maybe, if they were lucky, they could get Y/N to eat a full meal.
______________________
In Y/N’s room, Nat was cleaning mindlessly. Dusting, reorganizing, finally getting to the laundry that had stacked up from the mission to today and sorting them by colors in hopes to do a load soon.
She had lit a candle, made Y/N’s bed around her, the balcony door was open letting in fresh air, but was however the only form of light coming in as Y/N had grimaced when Nat tried to open all her other windows.
She hadn’t left her side, and feeling like she was running out of techniques on getting Y/N back to normal, all she could seem to do that felt like she was doing something, was making sure the room was cleaned and comfortable.
It’s like Bruce had said when they had first set out on bringing her back home, “Well, when she feels something, she feels it hard to say the least.”
Energy was her thing. With her powers, the con of being so intune with all types of energies, is that feelings are something that become magnified.
Apparently, when she got her powers, everything about her was amplified. Her empathy was already something strong for her. Now? With having to feel everyone else’s emotions and tones around you on top of the essence of the world’s constant energy that surrounds a person, every emotion she has becomes heightened in order to make her still human.
The powers were there to make her stronger, but with it came being humbled as well. In order to be the soul that the earth’s energy would connect to, you had to still have a connection to the creatures of the earth. In this case, having a sense of humanity even when you have the power to destroy it. Especially since you have the power to destroy it.
At least this is all what Bruce said when he noticed Bucky’s nerves toward the situation. He was hoping in explaining the prophecy of which Y/N had filled all those hundreds of years ago, would shed some light on why this was all taking such a massive toll on Y/N.
A sound of a soft knock made its way through the thick door of her room.
Nat turned quickly towards it and then when she looked over at Y/N to see a reaction, she saw her unmoved from where she was spaced out looking toward a corner of the room.
She sighed, and put down the laundry for a second before going to the door.
“Hey,” a soft welcome came in and Nat smiled at the friendly face before they shared a hug.
Ryker who was by her side, had now rushed in at the open door and went straight to the bedside of Y/N.
“I figured it was you, and I was hoping she would have sensed you and at least budged somewhat to the door, but nothing, ” Nat held on to her.
“Still nothing today?” Wanda asked as they stayed connected.
“More than yesterday,” she answered, finally pulling back, but staying close as they shut the door and kept their distance for a second. “I got her to drink 3 glasses of water so far today. And I haven’t needed to remind her about bathroom breaks. She’s been getting up on her own.”
Wanda looked toward her friend that seemed a simple vessel for a lost soul. She could barely see her behind the blankets she had cocooned herself into, but from what she could, it was greasy hair and a pale face with some bandages still delicately placed on.
“I’m sorry,” Nat distracted her from where she could see the pain grow in the redhead’s eyes. “How are you? How was the flight back?”
Wanda snapped out of it and looked back to her friend. With everything that was going on, the two hadn’t even greeted each other after 4 months of not seeing the other.
“Um, it was good,” Wanda smiled softly. “We’re good. I have a whole book’s worth of things to talk about and update you on, but I’ll save it for when we have time.” She looked at Nat who shared a sorry look. “It’s fine. Really. I’m glad you called. And I’m hoping I can help.”
“Are you just as upset to be stepping back in these halls as Y/N was when we dragged her ass back here?” NAt smirked.
“I doubt I can reach the level of rage she probably had walking back in here, but I can say it’s a little hard being back,” Wanda chuckled lightly.
“Well this time it’s only for personal reasons. No need to worry about working or getting set up on a mission,” Nat threw her arm over Wanda’s shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. “Your only mission is to help me nourish this hardass back to health,” she nudged her head.
The two laughed under their breath knowing that Y/N would have laughed as well at her remark. Out of the whole crew, Y/N was probably the only other person besides Nat that was more stubborn than a mountain.
Eventually it got quiet again and the two were once again looking at their broken friend.
“She’s been asking about you,” Nat whispered solemnly.
“What?” Wanda turned at hearing this for the first time. “I thought you said she basically has only said 10 words in the last week.”
“Yeah, and at least 8 of those times were for you,” Nat shrugged, crossing her arms and looking at the bed.
Wanda looked with her and then back at Nat one last time, getting a head nod from her, and then walking very carefully up to the bed.
The closer she got, the more in her head she saw. Pain, heartache, no sense of hope. All of those feelings multiplied by a hundred.
Wanda closed her eyes for a second and centered herself, before ever so gently sitting on the edge where Y/N was still staring off in the distance as she laid down. Ryker laid down behind her acting like a body pillow for her as he comforted his human.
Without saying anything, she laid a quiet hand to the blanket that surrounded her.
It took a second, but Y/N turned her head just enough to see what made the movement. With a late reaction, her eyebrows furrowed before realization hit her.
In a groggy and soft voice, she asked, “Are you real?”
The corner of Wanda’s lip lifted although there was no happiness accompanied with it.
“As real as one can get,” she replied.
Y/N’s lips started to take the form of a pout and her chin began to quiver. A tear started to form and before it slipped, Wanda was already encasing her in a hug.
“I know. I know…” she hummed, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry.”
Nat was still standing at the entrance with a sad look. She went ahead and grabbed the laundry she had piled together and quietly left the room so the two could have a moment.
There was a long stretch of silence that passed with Y/N sobbing into Wanda’s arms and Wanda crying with her. The two took the time to let their grief out together and with understanding from another person who knew Marley, it was a lot more weight lifting.
After about 45 minutes, Y/N finally looked up at Wanda. Eyes swollen, nose running, hair disheveled, and clothes all askew on her body.
“I tried so hard,” she let out in a soft breath.
“I know you did,” Wanda nodded, grabbing a tissue and handing it to her. Though Y/N took it, she didn’t pay mind to it. “She knew that too.”
Y/N let out a bitter laugh and sniffled, deciding to use the sleeve of her sweater instead of the tissue. Yet, again, her mind wasn’t in the moment.
“She fought me. She fought me so hard even though we just got her back,” Y/N shook her head.
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Wanda shrugged looking at Y/N with unphased eyes. “Maybe she gets that from a special someone.”
Y/N shook her head as she started to space out again.
“Hey.” Wanda, grabbed her hand, pulling her attention back to her. “You did what you could, putting in a 110% effort. You found her in less than a week compared to the months it took Fury and Stark to get anything on this whole case.”
“And yet, I was still too late,” Y/N huffed. Wanda sent a shock through Y/N’s body and she jumped at it giving Wanda a glare.
“Ow, what was that for?” she gripped her wrist from the shock.
“You know why!” Wanda rolled her eyes. “Since when has thinking of all the things we could have done in our lifetime, done anything but hurt us?”
“I want to hurt right now,” Y/N mumbled. Another shock hit her. “Ow! Stop it!”
“You are causing yourself pain outside of grief,” Wanda said.
“You don’t know that,” she replied under her breath. When she looked up seeing the redhead’s blank face, she looked away. “Stop looking in my head.”
Wanda let out a sigh, scooting closer to her in the bed and getting comfortable. Lastly, grabbing both of Y/N’s hands and making her mentor look her in the eyes.
“When someone dies, they don’t want you to spend every waking moment of the rest of your life thinking of all the things you could have done to prevent it. What’s done is done.”
Still not fully convinced of change, Y/N didn’t answer and looked down at their hands. Wanda let out a centering breath and then continued.
“Think about it this way,” she started. “That mission we went on just a few years before the blip, the one where you got distracted trying to help Sam and someone got a lucky jump on you. I thought I was going to lose you right there in the middle of a field in Taiwan .”
“I told you I was going to be fine,” Y/N sighed.
“We both know that wasn’t true.” It was now Wanda’s turn to laugh bitterly. “Someone stabbed you all the way through your sternum with a katana.”
“Well…”
“And then twisted it before pulling it out and lashing you in the side for extra measures. Whether you can heal yourself or not, you were fading fast,” Wanda spoke up. “And we both know that you can only heal yourself when you have the energy to do so. So despite people thinking you are practically immortal, I know that could have been your last moment on earth.”
“But it wasn’t.” Y/N’s annoyance was becoming clear at Wanda getting to a point that Y/N had tried to avoid the whole time.
“That’s not what this is about. What I’m getting at is, and you know it,” she sighed, taking a second to calm herself down. “If you were to have died, and I went about the rest of my life harboring on all the things I could have done to make sure what happened didn’t happen, even if it wasn’t fully under my control, how would you feel?”
“I don’t know. I’d be dead,” Y/N said morbidly. When Wanda didn’t react, but instead held a bitch face, she rolled her eyes and brought her knees closer to her, wrapping her arms around them. “Fine. I’d be disappointed in you.”
“And why?” Wanda continued.
Y/N sent the bitch face back hating how reasonable her friend was being when she didn’t want to be reasonable.
“Because you’d be wasting away the little time you had left on this God forsaken earth morning, something that couldn’t be fixed,” she replied quietly.
Wanda smiled knowing she got the rational side of her to finally come out, but that was just one step out of the multiple they needed to take to get her back to health.
“Now reverse the situation. If I know Marley, which I do, I know for a fact she would want you to accept her choice and move on. Now, I’m not saying by tonight you have to be ok and accepting of it all, but no more of this moping around and thinking of what could have been,” Wanda stood up and went to the edge of the bed. “It’s time to take care of yourself now. Please.” She offered her hand.
Y/N shifted her gaze to the hand that had pulled her from some many time of trouble and helped her from the pit.
Eventually, she nodded.
“Can I take a shower first?”
“I’d actually prefer you’d take a shower,” Wanda teased.
“Haha. You’re a riot.”
“Maybe a nice sugar scrub while you’re in there too,” she smiled as she helped Y/N out of bed. A shock went through her arm and it wasn’t Wanda’s doing that time. “Hey!”
“Taste of your own medicine there, doctor,” Y/N chuckled, standing up with a sigh. “Whew. I feel a touch weak.”
“Maybe because you haven’t eaten in almost a week,” Wanda furrowed her eyebrows. “Yeah, Nat filled me in on her caretaking. You’re the worst kind of patient there is.”
“Shut up. I’m fine,” Y/N waved her off, moving toward the bathroom door.
Ryker let out a bark that if it was english, she was sure that it would be him shouting at Y/N.
“Yeah and I’m the queen of England,” Wanda shouted her way.
A nice middle finger was thrown her way as Y/N shut the bathroom door behind her.
“There’s that attitude,” Wanda smiled to herself.
_______________________________
“Nothing, still?” Steve asked as he helped Bucky set the table.
Steve had just come home from a mission he and Sam had left on earlier the day before. After hearing that Wanda was back, he decided to shift all missions to other agents and go back to staying in the compound for a bit.
He had come in seeing Bucky finishing up the meal and offered to help set up dinner after he unpacked. Sam was doing the same, but he was finishing up debriefing first.
“Haven’t seen but a glimpse of her from dropping Ryker off in her room. And even then, I just saw a lot of blankets in a bundle on the bed. Couldn’t even tell you if she was under it or not,” Bucky responded.
“Any news from Nat since Wanda’s been back?”
“She’s been here for 2 hours, maybe 3. From what I can tell, Nat is giving them space and taking the time to take care of herself some. Well, at least I made her take time for herself. She was about to start a second load of laundry and was doing research for Y/N, when I finally got her to go take a nap. Not sure the last time she had any form of rest that didn’t involve Y/N’s couch within the last week.”
Bucky placed a basket of bread fresh out of the oven on the counter, which Steve placed a cloth over to keep them warm.
“Good. Knowing her, she wouldn’t do it on her own. I’m glad you redirected her,” Steve nodded.
“I’m not sure how much was me redirecting and how much was begging slash bargaining with her,” Bucky shrugged, stirring the soup now that everything was set up. “I finished her chores.”
“Which brings me to ask, have you been taking care of yourself?” Steve stopped in his motions and turned to his friend.
“I’m fine. Remember? All healed up and just been helping with Ryker where I can,” Bucky answered.
“But I’m asking if you’ve been taking care of yourself. Not if you’re healed.”
“Steve. Promise. I’m ok. Honestly, if anything,” he turned to make eye contact with him, “taking care of Ryker has helped me feel like I’m doing something and kept me from going crazy.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, I’ve thought about diving back into the whole mission of it all because something just doesn’t seem right, but Tony’s got that covered. I’ve seen how late he’s been up the past week in his man cave. And even though I’ve been stressing about Y/N, Nat’s reassured me that lending a hand with Ryker has been helpful,” he sighed. “So yeah. Surprisingly for once, I’m taking care of myself and not overdoing it.”
Steve smiled at that.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”
“You on the other hand…” Bucky hummed, before grabbing the ladle and pouring some of the baked potato soup into a bowl.
“What about me?” Steve countered, watching him carefully.
“You’ve been on missions nonstop. Have you been taking care of yourself?” he shot back.
“I’m fine.”
“Sounds a lot like my kind of I’m fine.”
“You saying your last ‘I’m fine’ wasn’t a real one?”
“No, I’m saying I know the difference between a real one and a fake one.”
“Well, it was real,” Steve took the bowl that he noticed Bucky had extended to him. “I needed to get my head in another playing field since I couldn’t do anything here to help Y/N. Plus, that way Nat could stay here and help and I could help her by being out there.”
“If you truly mean that and it really does help you cope, then I have nothing else to say.” Bucky nodded his head and moved to take his bowl to the table.
“I do mean it,” Steve assured.
“Great. Then let’s catch up and hope that maybe Wanda can-”
Before he could finish the sentence, Wanda stepped through the threshold into the kitchen with a kind smile.
“Wanda can, what?” she asked with a smirk.
“Hey!” Steve placed his food down and ran over to her. “Long time no see… Or talk for that matter.”
“Hey, Stevie,” Wanda chuckled in his embrace. “It’s good to see you.”
They stayed in an embrace for a moment and only had about a minute of talking before Bucky noticed the figure coming in from behind Wanda.
He froze in his actions and stood quickly, but didn’t take any steps toward her. Steve was the next to notice her.
“Y/N,” he said softly, looking at her in shock over Wanda’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I finally convinced her to get some food in her,” Wanda smiled, nodding her over. “Which it smells like you have something cooking already.”
Y/N walked over to Wanda’s side and Steve could tell there was a hint of healing that had happened. She still wasn’t a hundred percent. No. Far from that. But compared to the empty vessel she was as of last week, she looked… Alive somewhat.
Her hair was slightly damp and she smelled like flowers and a hit of pear. How could Bucky smell it from where he was, he wasn’t sure. Well, that was a lie. He had enhanced senses. However, it was an overwhelming scent in a way to remind him of what her lively self smelled and felt like.
“Smells good,” she spoke up. Both the super soldiers were surprised by her vocals considering word had been she had gone mute since the mission.
“Um, yeah. Bucky made it,” Steve answered, motioning to the stove where the pot sat.
Wanda pointed toward it and moved to where the stacks of bowls sat waiting to be filled.
“Do you mind if we-?”
“No, please. I made it for you guys anyways,” Bucky was quick to answer.
“Thanks, Barnes,” Wanda smiled, helping herself.
Y/N started walking toward the counter herself, but stopped next to Bucky and laid a kind and to his shoulder.
“Thank you for everything. Truly,” she said softly just for him to hear, and then he felt it. The waves of thankfulness and admiration that she felt toward him, shocked through his own system.
“Of course,” he mumbled out before she went back toward Wanda.
TAGS:
Everest Tags: (if I missed you in tags, comment on this chapter to let me know:)
Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 3100+
A/N: Like always, I hope you enjoy and please let me know what all you think!:) xoxoxoxo
Chapter 6:
True to her word, when she came back with an armful of new maps and data, she put them to the side and rested. Bucky stayed up until she was asleep just to make sure she took care of herself.
She of course had some weird tea mixture that she grabbed from the plane that was supposed to help him sleep, but after she was out like a light for 15 minutes and he hadn’t felt anything, he figured the dosage was too low for whatever he was given.
Then… Then 5 minutes after thinking that, his body felt tingly before feeling like it was floating all of a sudden. It was as if whatever magic she worked with her hands was concocted into the rose flavored tea.
He fought to keep his eyes open, but alas it was a fight he would never win.
___________
“Morning sleepy head,” Y/N’s voice was heard from across the room as Bucky stirred and shifted in his awakening. “First time I’ve seen you move since I’ve been up.”
Bucky blinked slowly, easing his way out of sleep. He was drowsy, but not so much that he couldn’t get a bearing on his surroundings.
“I truly thought I might have overdosed you for a second, but then I remembered that serum running through your veins and figured you’d be ok.”
When he looked at her, she was shrugging as she finished her sentence. She was sitting at the table with the new layouts and blueprints covering the wooden surface to the point you wouldn’t know it was wood.
In one hand was a cup of coffee and on top of a random piece of paper was another. Bucky could see the steam rising from it with a squint of his eyes.
She finally looked over at him and smiled softly.
“ˈkôfē?” she asked in Russian though the word sounded like the english version just with a Russian accent.
“Please,” he nodded, sitting up and slowly moving to get out of bed. Not without a huff at the movement.
It had been a long time since he had felt rested enough to be dazed from sleep. For the first time in a very long time, he was having to actually wake up after a night’s rest.
“I’m gonna guess the tea worked,” she laughed, standing and meeting him at his bed with the warm mug. “I’m hoping that’s a good thing.” He took the mug slowly and carefully so as not to burn himself. “I wasn’t sure how you took it, so if you need anything added, let me know.”
He nodded, still trying to rouse as he sat there with the coffee in hand.
“I’ve haven’t felt like this in a while,” he breathed out.
“What? Like a functioning human being?” she teased, moving back to the table.
“Ha, ha,” he laughed dryly even though there was a small smile on his lips as they came up to the rim of the cup.
He stopped however as he looked down at the ceramic before his lips met it.
“Don’t worry. I washed the mugs. The rim is clean,” she said without looking up, her finger following something on the paper in front of her.
He nodded in tired thanks and took the sip before stopping and looking at her.
“Wait, how did you know-”
“I noticed you did it yesterday. You wiped the rim of the glass before you got a drink of water. I figured it was a germ thing, but either way I cleaned them. I don’t know where these motel mugs have been,” she shrugged a shoulder turning to give him a wink. “Is it a germ thing?”
“Something like that,” he tilted his head before standing and slowly going to add his fixings to the coffee. A dash of cream and three sugars. That sweet tooth was for every kind of serving, not just for his favorite candy. “Find anything?”
“An abandoned coal mine that we can scope out today. Besides that, we may be out of luck with this town,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair, but still looking intently at the maps in front of her.
“Any ideas on where to next?” he asked.
She let out a long sigh of defeat and shook her head earnestly.
“I really thought I figured it out, but I don’t think we were fast enough…”
He looked over seeing her crushed disposition.
“Hey,” he said softly, coming to her desk. “Maybe that mine will have something. There’s clues somewhere. We just have to find them, right?”
She looked detached from the world for a second as she played out multiple scenarios in her head. Eventually she answered.
“Yeah, you’re right. One step at a time,” she sighed standing and moving to the door. “I’m going to go grab some breakfast. Want anything?”
“Whatever you grab, I’ll be ok with,” he nodded, moving to the table. “I’ll give this a second look while you’re out.”
She gave him a nodd, wrapping a scarf around her neck and throwing on a coat before leaving.
_________________________
Unfortunately, the clues weren’t in the coal mine. All that was there was a ton of dust and well… Coal.
They had packed up their things at the motel and headed back to the jet as no more leads were there to follow. It was a long flight back and Bucky had once again volunteered to fly so that he could give Y/N her space.
After digging around for two days and coming up empty handed, she was very quiet. He couldn’t tell if it was from processing their loss or if it was because she was still trying to come up with new leads.
They were about 3 hours from New York though when they got a call from Tony again.
“Everest, you there?” he sounded over the jet.
She was in the back at the time, but Bucky pulled up the video call and put the plane on autopilot.
“One second, she’s-” he started getting up to go and grab her, but she was already maneuvering through the front to get to the cockpit.
“What do you have, Stark?” she asked with her hand now on the back of the chair and her focus on the hologram of him above the controls.
“I think you may want to slow your roll on the trip back. We just got back some video footage from another raid,” he said looking down at something and seconds later, the video popped up on the screen moving his face to the bottom corner.
On the screen was footage from an agent’s body cam. They were in an abandoned building from the looks of it, much like their normal coverage, and she had a weapon raised scoping out the place.
“When was this taken?” Y/N asked as she watched intently.
“An hour ago. Just received the footage maybe 10 minutes ago.”
“Where at?”
“Uh…” he paused, looking for the information. “Runtole, Slovenia.”
“What are the coordinates, Barnes?” she questioned, never taking her eyes off the video that was still going.
The agent in the footage was announcing herself now to a group of people who she walked in on.
“Raise your hands! Put your hands up!” she shouted, her firearm raising in defense.
Whoever she was instructing did as asked and dropped the equipment in hand quickly.
“It looks like we passed it. About 30 minutes back east if we turn around now,” Bucky said, resetting things.
“Can you-” she started, sitting in the seat now and watching the video intently.
“Already on it,” Bucky noted, and the jet took a wide turn.
“Stark, can you get the exact coordinates for us?” she asked.
“Logging it into the jet right now,” he answered.
The aircraft wired as it set it’s new location and a jut made Bucky and Y/N shake in their seats as the speed increased.
“Go to the wall,” the female agent continued to direct. “Who else is here?” No one answered. “Who else is here!” she shouted more sternly.
Three of the individuals looked scared of her and turned to look at the man in the middle. All their hands still raised, but this man specifically had an evil grin on his face.
“You won’t make it out of here alive,” he said with a thick foreign accent.
“Wh-”the agent started to say, but instantly her voice started to gargle.
“No,” Y/N said softly to herself, Bucky looked at her then back at the screen.
The camera moved upward as if her chest was now pointing to the ceiling and she began to turn. But before it could show any of the hints as to who was doing it or what was happening, red liquid started to cover the camera violently. Behind it was the sound of the woman choking on her own blood.
Y/N knew exactly what was happening and though she wanted to look away, she didn’t want to miss a single detail she could use to fix this.
The camera switched to another agent coming in from the side. There was shouting taking place, but Y/N and Bucky both couldn’t pull their eyes from the levitating body bent in an inhuman way as the female agent was being controlled and turned to liquid on the inside as none other than Marley twitched her head in concentration causing the pain.
“Let her go!” a new agent coming into the scene shouted, shooting bullets at her.
One clipped Marley, but all it did was get a pissed off look from her. Instantly the other agent was forgotten and she had a new target.
More shouting and chaos took over the screen and Y/N was watching with a head turned in disgust. Bucky could hardly stomach it himself and he had done some despicable things as the Winter Soldier.
By the end, 4 agents were killed and a few injured before they fled in time seeing there was no winning against the powerful being.
“Is there any mission reports,” Y/N said solemnly as the camera held static from being crushed at this point.
“Considering this all came in just 20 minutes ago? No. Just the status of those KIA,” Tony replied somewhat quietly. “I’ll keep you updated as you go. Let me know when you guys land and keep me updated as well.”
Y/N just nodded slightly and started to walk to the back of the jet.
Bucky watched as her body went rigid and she made a turn out of sight headed to the room where their suits and equipment were.
He gave her only about 5 minutes of space before going to change for the mission himself. The chances of them finding them weren’t 100% as the videos were over an hour old, but in the 90% chance they were still there, there was going to be a battle.
She was hooking on a thigh holster over her pants. This was the first time that Bucky had seen her in her uniform. After learning about her, he had done his research and seen lots of news articles and fan postings of her during battles or at charity events with her Avenger’s combat outfit on and it was fitting for her.
She wore a white outfit with iridescent outlines to it. With how the outlines worked, it was as if the light tried to find her and shine little multicolor lights to lure every eye to her. The whole thing was mesmerizing and mocked her powers in clothing form.
It had a halter top neckline with cut out shoulders and long sleeves. On her head in certain pictures he had noticed that she had a halo-like light glow from behind her head when she really used her powers. Her eyes turned white, the glow brightened, and it was as if she burst her own aura in a bloom of light around her. The light catches the white energy in a way that glints of rainbow like colors burst with it all.
She looked like a strong, all-powerful, and angelic-being floating above the enemy right before humbling them.
What she was putting on now was close to the opposite. It was a blackbody suit that mimicked Natasha’s uniform. If he didn’t know better, it looked like a suit that Nat had actually rejected from Tony because the shoulder was cut out on one side with a weird strap that she said was impractical. But really it was just not Nat’s style. However, it fit Y/N well and complimented her original uniform in a sense.
(imagine one shoulder completely covered of course)
He pulled his eyes off her as she silently got ready, adjusting the straps and zips on her suit. He moved over to his area that had pieces of his own suit. He was already wearing the pants and had a black long sleeve on.
“How are you doing?” he asked, looking down as he grabbed his vest, giving her some privacy.
“As well as one can when they see a loved one killing multiple innocent people within a second thought,” she answered in a serious tone. “So, great. I’m doing great.”
He looked up when he heard her go completely quiet. She was frozen in her spot just looking down at her hands in a dissociated manner.
He shook his head to himself. Dumb question. He threw on his vest and a few other things before she finally broke out of her self-trance and walked to the other room.
Looking down at his watch, high-tech and combat enhanced thanks to Stark, he saw they were less than 100 miles out now. They would be landing in 8 minutes max.
“I guess we should devise a plan,” Y/N sighed, sitting as she nervously bounced her leg, waiting for the plane to alert them they were closer.
When she looked up at Bucky, she stood and walked in front of him.
“This first,” she nodded, putting her hand out motioning for him to take it. He looked down at it, but did as she silently asked.
A weird vibrating sensation moved through his body and a light started creating symbols on his skin. He jumped at the way the light seemed to be glowing from under his skin. Lines and squiggles shining before fading seconds after.
“They’re runes,” she said. “They’ll keep you safer.” She sighed, closing her eyes with his hands still in hers. “And give me peace of mind to an extent.”
Just as she was about to pull her hand back, Bucky wrapped his around hers keeping her from going.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, her kind eyes looking up at him and matching his. “That you have to do this.”
He wasn’t sure how that comment did it, but the corner of her lip raised to a small smirk.
“Do you always apologize for things that aren’t your fault?” she asked.
His lips imitated her smirk. “It’s a bad habit.”
“Well then. Let’s break that habit when we’re done here,” she nodded.
The brief moment of teasing comments and light hearted jokes ended when the jet announced they were just outside of their destination.
Her mode switched right back to captain mode and he knew that because of how often Steve could flip that same switch.
“Let’s do this,” she said in a not so ready way.
_______________________
Shield agents were told to leave the scene as soon as half the squad infiltrating the abandoned warehouse were killed.
It wasn’t a big operation as they didn’t expect the location to be a hit. There were a total of 10 agents on this breach and from what Y/N could tell, at least four of them were dead now.
“Tony, said the northeast corridor was our best bet in,” Y/N said as he and Bucky left the jet and started their way to the building. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
Bucky was surprised by her question given what they had been through the past two days. Why would now be the time for him to pull out?
“I’m only asking because I don’t want there to be any more casualties,” she explained. “Not that I don’t trust you can’t hold your own,” she sighed. “It’s just… She’s not just another bad guy with a gun and a few impressive boxing moves.”
“Y/N,” Bucky shook his head looking down as he checked his gun in hand again. “I’ll be ok.”
And if not, he couldn’t think of a better reason to end his fight.
She looked at him solemnly.
“I appreciate you a lot, Barnes,” she replied with a sad smile.
There wasn’t much of a plan to formulate before they came in guns blazing, but they discussed a broad idea of what needed to happen.
There weren’t any signs of cameras on the outside so getting in was surprisingly easy… Yet again, their temporary lab was already discovered so they were likely packing to get the hell out of dodge. Bucky and Y/N had just hoped that they weren’t quite out yet.
Bucky had gone through a separate entrance than Y/N. They were trying their best to get in and not miss anyone going out.
“Any sign of anyone or anything useful, yet?” Y/N asked through the comms.
“It’s quiet,” he answered, then the sound of another heartbeat began to grow behind him. “Y/N, where are you at?” he asked.
“Now in the south wing.” When she didn’t get an immediate response back she questioned him. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Bucky was quiet trying to detect the direction of the heart beat. It was getting louder but staying consistent in its speed.
It was calm. Steady. Then it stopped growing louder and stayed where it was.
He could sense her without even looking.
“Bucky, where are you?” Y/N’s voice came through.
Slowly, he turned to see… Her.
Green eyes. Black hair that looked like it was meant to be brown, but hadn’t been washed due to neglect. Pale skin due to lack of sunlight.
“Marley,” he said softly, raising his hands in surrender. He didn’t want to harm her.
“You see her?” Y/N was breathless in the comms as she started moving his direction.
“Marl-”
He was cut off by her raising her hand like she had in all those videos right before taking her victims life.
He immediately flinched away at the movement knowing there was no beating it, before…
TAGS:
Everest Tags: (if I missed you in tags, comment on this chapter to let me know:)
He says it all woozy and completely deadpan, totally at ease - a natural flirt - like waking up in a hospital with a neck brace on and your motorcycle presumably totaled in some back alley was just another thing on a Tuesday’s schedule to tick off.
Who knows; maybe it was for this guy.
pairing: biker bucky x nurse!reader
summary:bucky barnes is a magnet for danger, bad karma, and pretty woman - not necessarily in that order. a motorcycle crash lands him in reader’s ER, and it looks like he might have just found himself a new game of high-stakes chase.
synopsis: part one of - hopefully - a new series, content warnings for minor medical procedures, i.e., injections and such. biker bucky is always a classic, and i wanted to write it, so i did.
Summary: Caught in an anti-hero demonstration, you become an unwilling participant in a political game of tug of war. Tony Stark wants you to be the new poster child for his pro-Avengers rhetoric, Nick Fury wants you to fade into the background, and Bucky Barnes… wants something else from you entirely.
Warnings: Near Death Experience, Noncon, Stalking, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Smut, Breeding. Blackmail, Infidelity, Dark!AU, Grey/Dark Avengers AU, Dead dove Do not eat
A/N: um. i think you all could see the signs that things were about to go from zero to sixty with the ending of the last chapter, but just in case you didn’t, here’s your warning. updated the warnings a bit to reflect the content from here on out! bottom divider by @firefly-graphics!
The work below is my own, and is unbeta’d and unedited. I do not consent for it to be translated and or posted elsewhere by anyone but myself. Minors, DNI!
Bucky leaves shortly after Patrick gets back, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, very wrong, for the rest of the day. While you shower, as you go through the stretches the physical therapist taught you, as you run loving fingers through Pat’s hair. The wrongness won’t abate, won’t leave you alone.
The Black Widow arrives a few hours later, and declines your hesitant offer to come inside. No thank you, she’d said with a tart smile. I’m better from outside. Patrick is just grateful to have the apartment back, spreading out on the couch and surfing channels aimlessly. You, on the other hand, can’t stop turning over this morning’s events in your head, gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.
The cold hand, the beard, the voice that wasn’t Pat’s—
Your stomach fills with lead.
Youknow what the truth is, but you can barely even think it. It doesn’t make sense, for one, that Bucky would sneak into your room and do that.He’s half a celebrity, and while you buy about half of the populace running away screaming, you know the other half would walk readily right into his bed. There was no need to dally with you.
So why did he?
Why did he pretend to be Patrick, slither between your thighs and—
You clench them shut, your stomach lurching with shame as your cunt pulses at the memory. It isn’t your fault it felt good, you know that, but the shame eats away at you anyway. And Pat—you don’t know how he’d react to the knowledge, and you don’t want to find out. You clench your fists under the knitted blanket Patrick’s mother had given the two of you at your engagement party last year.
You don’t know when you’ll see Bucky next and your stomach flops nervously at the thought of being alone with him after what happened. He’d seemed so nice before, if a little stoic; you don’t understand the shift, can’t make sense of it.
And it certainly doesn’t help that you’re essentially house-bound, unable to drive your car without the go-ahead from Doctor Bradford. You feel trapped, like you’re just waiting for the predator to circle round again, to take another meaty bite out of you.
And what a bite he’d taken.
You can’t find it in yourself to leave your bubble of alternating self-deprecation and loathing for Bucky’s transgression, you’re surprised when Patrick starts getting ready for his night shift. It’s with grim resignation that you watch him step into his nurse’s shoes—the ones you’d teased him about more than once—and pin his tag on his shirt, right onto the pocket, like always.
“Babe? You good? You’ve been quiet all day.” Patrick is shrugging into his scrubs, and his voice rouses you from your anxiety driven fugue. “I can call off if you want.” On one hand, you do, you really do—you want Pat to stay, to help you confront Bucky for what he did to you—
But the larger part of you, the part that echoes with your father’s drilled-in shame, doesn’t even want Patrick to know. You don’t want him thinking of you as damaged goods, the woman who couldn’t even recognize her own fiancé’s voice. His mother already hated you, and you were loathe to give her more reason to mistrust you.
No, better for you to handle this on your own. For once you were glad for the insistent beeping of his pager as they contacted him again—rushing him in, putting a pin back into the grenade of this line of discussion.
“I’m good. Sorry, I’m just tired. I think it’s the pills.” You offer him a watery smile. “You go.” He does, with one last, almost mistrustful look at you over his shoulder.
“Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
—
You twiddle your thumbs in the emptiness of your apartment, wondering what you’ll say, what you’ll do when Bucky shows up for guard duty, so much so that when Natasha raps on your door with her knuckles, you almost throw up from nerves.
“I’m headed out,” she says as you pull the door open. “Steve’ll be here shortly, if he’s not here already.” It sends a cool wave of relief through you to know it won’t be Bucky you see next, and you nod gratefully.
“How long, um, do you think we’ll have to do all this?” You ask, steadying yourself against the door. “The whole, um. Bodyguard thing.”
“Probably until the press dies down. Another couple of weeks, at most. We already got a few pings just from presence at the junket.” Her voice is confident, assured. It makes you want to trust her confidence. She turns to leave, but stops, hesitating. “Here, take my number. Just in case. And only for emergencies, understand?” She replies sternly, and you nod quickly.
“Thanks.”
You hobble back to the living room, and begin your best attempt at tidying up with only the use of one hand, a crutch held under the other. When the buzzer rings, you answer with confidence, pressing the intercom button.
“Yes?”
“Hey. It’s me. Can you buzz me in?”
“Oh, Steve. Sure.” You move to press the door button, and the familiar buzz sounds through the speaker. You wait patiently by the door for Steve to get there, tugging open the door as his footfalls approach the landing.
“Hiya, doll.” Bucky grins at you as he rounds the corner. No.You gape at him, unable to speak as you sputter. “Surprised to see me? Steve had something come up, something with the baby—”
You slam the door, sliding the deadbolt across it with trembling fingers. It’s instinct more than anything, but you’re glad for it when his body thuds against the door only a second or two later.
“You need to leave, Bucky,” you say shakily. “Get out of here!”
“Doll, what? Why? Something wrong?” It makes your stomach roll to hear him ask so genuinely, all while the feeling of his hands on your body burns in your memory. He raps on the door hard, and you can hear his heavy breath.
“You… you have to go, Bucky. I know what you did this morning, okay? I… I fucking know!”
There’s silence from the other side of the door, and then a heavy sigh.
“Goddammit.”There’s another knock. “Sweetheart, open the door and let’s talk about it. Come on. Let’s be adults about this.”
There’s a casual kind of coolness in his tone that makes you both angry and terrified, like he’d forseen this outcome—
Planned for it.
“No. You need to leave. You need to leave, a-and I’m going to tell Tony what you did—” This time, it isn’t Bucky’s voice that interrupts you—it’s your own.
“God!”
“What? What is that?”
“F-fuck, I—”
Your face heats as you realize what he’s doing. He’s playing something, a recording—
A recording of this morning.
Before you can think about it, consider what you’re doing, your hands are flying to the locks, practically tearing off the deadbolt.
“Stop, it, shut that off—” The door slams inward, and it narrowly misses pulping you against the wall you as you scramble away. You hit the floor with an oof, your crutches clattering to the ground beside you. “Bucky…”
He tosses you the phone as he steps over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He makes sure to set the lockandthe deadbolt, turning to grin at you over his shoulder.
“For interruptions.” Bucky squats down in front of you, and motions down at the phone in your lap. “Oh, that’s my favorite part.” You don’t want to look down, but it’s like you can’t stop yourself, your eyes drifting to the screen. You watch yourself writhing on your bed, one thick, flesh hand, one metal, holding your thighs apart while Bucky feasts on you.
You toss the phone away as if it’s burned you.
“Why would you do that?” You murmur, hot angry tears gathering in your eyes. He sighs, running a hand through his thick hair.
“I’m sorry, doll. I am. I…” He hesitates, before shrugging, like there’s no point in keeping it from you now. “I thought those pills’d have you under for a little longer.” The apologetic smile he gives you is chilling, instead of relatable. “I just couldn’t wait anymore. I’m not patient, you know?”
“What? What are you—”
“I saved your life.” He states the irrefutable fact with a completely straight face. “Didn’t I?” Bucky reaches forward to brush a lock of hair out of your face, and you go completely rigid at the motion. “You know, there’s some cultures that believe if you save a life, you own it. You know that, doll?”
All of the anger goes out of you at once—and is replaced by ice cold terror.
“I asked you a question sweetheart, please answer me.”
It’s night impossible to swallow the ball of panic in your throat but you manage, somehow.
“Y-yes. I kn-know that.”
“Thank you. In ancient Rome, a savior was regarded as a sort of… second father. But that’s not really what I want. Unless,” Bucky grins cheekily down at you, “you’re into that sort of thing.”
You don’t laugh, and he sighs. “Look, I like you. You’re sweet. And… I can protect you. Patrick can barely keep your heads above water,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that’s what passes for a man these days.”
The urge to defend your fiancé is tamped down easily by your fear—you know what this man can do.
“I understand it might take some… time. For you to come around. So, I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”
“A deal?” You echo him hoarsely, attempting to blink back tears and failing. “What deal?”
“Well, I’m not going to post your film debut online for the world to see,” he holds up the phone, wiggling it for emphasis. “But I expect certain…allowances in return.” You don’t miss the way his eyes sweep down your body. This time, you can’t hold your tongue.
“What? No! I’m not touching you, I—”
“I get this is new for you doll, and while I’m a… modern man in a lot of ways, I’m not going to tolerate disrespect just because I’m sweet on you.” His eyes go hard. “I could have let you bleed out on the museum floor, after all.” Your breath hitches and time seems to slow as he leans in closer. His large hand is warm on your thigh through your thin leggings.
“Iown you, doll. And depending on which way I spin our beautiful first moment, I can bring down this whole house of cards you’ve built for yourself. This?” He gestures around at your apartment, but you get his larger meaning, “Only lasts as long as I say it does.” He squeezes your thigh, and then reaches up to caress your cheek like a lover, like he hadn’t just delivered a terrifying threat. “So I wouldn’t piss me off. Understand?”
You take a few seconds longer than he’d like to answer, and his lips press into a frown.
“Y-yes, Bucky,” you manage to squeak out around the other words in your throat. “I understand.”
“Good. Let’s get you up, doll. That doesn’t look comfortable at all.” He helps you to your feet with a patience that rivals Pat’s, and you swallow the futile scream that builds when he fixes you with that soft, gentle smile. “Let’s go pick out a movie, or something. We’ve got all night.”
—
Bucky is stifling.
He won’t give you a moment’s peace; standing practically hip to hip with you in the kitchen as you microwave the popcorn, standing over your shoulder as you return texts from your sister that you’d been ignoring—like he was trying to tacitly remind you of his imagined claim on your body, on your soul.
But what did it matter, imagined or not, if he had the power to enforce it?
The last thing you want is for Patrick to see that video, to see the absolute worst of you—for the world to see it. It doesn’t matter now that you’d been an unwilling participant, and if not unwilling then certainly unknowing—no one will believe it, not when they watch you writhing under his touch.
You barely do.
You sit stiffly, holding onto the popcorn in a white-knuckled grip. His metal arm falls around you, and he squeezes you affectionately.
“See?” He says, nuzzling against your throat. Your own breath hitches—both because it’s strangely natural,like the affection is real, and because you’re disgusted with yourself for considering whatever twisted thing he’d built up in his own head as valid for even a second. “Doesn’t have to be so bad.”
What choice do I have?
Until you can get help, tell someone—anyone—you’re stuck, completely at his mercy. You hadn’t been able to understand his breach of trust, not until he’d explained himself, and everything had clicked into place with horrible clarity. His overt overprotectiveness, the way he’d begun methodically inserting himself into your life. Even now, he traces patterns on the exposed skin of your arm, the cool metal leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Feel like you’re too far away, doll,” he drawls, and reluctantly you look up at him. He pats the thickest part of his thigh with a heavy hand. “Want you right here, close to me.” Your stomach lurches at his request. Sitting next to him is the most you can manage, you don’t want anything else. The movie drones on in the background as you stare at one another, and you know you don’t have long before Bucky’s patience runs out.
“I-I—” You can’t swallow the lump in your throat so you try to speak around it. “Bucky, I don’t—”
“You’re nervous. I get that,” he cuts you off, running his hands up and down your sides in smooth gentle movements, like he’s trying to calm a panicked animal. You suppose you are—you’re terrified, your heart pounding as Bucky’s fingers sink into the meat of your hips. You let out a shrill squeak as he lifts you, settling you across his thigh.
“But you don’t have to be, not with me.” Hot tears, indignant tears, well in your eyes, and you try not to let them fall. Bucky’s breath is hot against the back of your neck. “I’m going to take good care of you.” You know his promise is supposed to inspire confidence, but the only thing you feel is the slow creep of dread, sinking into everything.
This is really happening.
You want to wake up from this, but there isno waking from it—Bucky’s hands are warm as they massage you through the thin fabric of your leggings, his pleased sighs ringing in your ear as he familiarizes himself with your body. There’s no relaxing either, your body taut as a tightrope perched on his knee. To any onlooker, you know this looks like a date-night—a movie, snacks, two people cuddled close—but the pounding of your heart, the tremor in your hands, you can’t hide those. Someone onscreen laughs, and Bucky chuckles too, the sound vibrating against your back.
“You feel tense, sweetheart,” He murmurs, and you wince as he drags his lips down the exposed skin at your shoulder until he meets cloth. “I can help.” His hungry hands come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs massaging circles into the taut muscle. You try to snap your thighs shut, wiggle off of his lap, but Bucky is stronger than you are—by far. It doesn’t even seem like it taxes him in the least to keep you seated as he locks an arm around your belly, anchoring you to him.
“Shh, shh,” he smooths his other hand over your hair. “You’ll feel so much better, doll, I know it.” Fresh horror blooms in you as he strokes along your inner thigh with light fingers, mumbling his appreciation for you in a low, reverent voice.
“So soft…” You can feel the thick length of his cock pressing up between the cheeks of your ass, and you choke on your horrified gasp. “See how hard you got me, sweetheart? S’all for you.” Your mouth opens, and you inhale a breath to scream—
Bucky’s metal hand closes around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to limit your air.
“Oh, baby. I wouldn’t.” His other hand doesn’t stop moving, stroking the skin of your belly under your t-shirt. “You think I won’t fuck you if your neighbors come watch?” The blood curdles in your veins at his frankness. “I don’t mind if the whole world watches you cum on my face, sweetheart—and believe me, it’s a pretty sight. In fact, I think that might make this a whole lot easier, don’t you? If everyone knows, then—”
“Please,” you croak, tugging ineffectually at his arm. He releases his hold on your throat, and you gasp and cough as the air floods back into your lungs. You don’t want Patrick to know, to see. Without Pat, you’d be alone, adrift in the world. He’d made you feel like you could do more than just be your father’s replacement for your mother, to take care of him until he was six feet in the ground. Like you owed it to her memory to be something—like you owed it to yourself.
Bucky could have everything else—but he can’t have that.
He kisses the skin at the back of your throat, his beard rasping against your skin.
“Let’s not make this difficult, doll. Either way you play this, I get what I’m owed.”
“No one’s owed anything,” you croak, wriggling in his lap. Bucky stills you with a smart tap to your thigh. “That’s not how the world works.”
“Oh?” He says, as if he’s amused by your reasoning, amused enough to let your sass slide. “I’ll remember that when folks come to collect. Funny,” he hums as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your leggings, playing at the skin beneath them before he tugs them harshly down. “how no one’s owed, but someone always come to collect.” There’s a low laugh as he grazes the skin of your vulva.
“No panties, doll? And I thought you weren’t expecting me.” He parts your lips with two fingers, and you’re as embarrassed as he is pleased when he finds your folds damp. You huff through your clenched teeth as Bucky slowly circles your clit with one finger while he grinds his cock against you. You’re overwhelmed with him—the woodsy scent of his cologne in your nostrils, his hands on you, in you. It’s enough to make your head spin.
Which it does, unwitting pleasure winding up your spine as you stare dizzily at the ceiling. You try everything; shutting your eyes to try and keep him out, picturing Patrick, trying to remember the vows you were still drafting up for the wedding—but none of it works. Bucky’s face swims in the darkness behind your closed eyes as his fingers dance over your bud, and his breath in your ear wipes clean the memory of your future promises.
The noise as his fingers slide in and out of you, aided by your body’s own slick is deafening. You hate your own muted moans as Bucky’s teeth drag along your shoulder blade, uncaring of whether he leaves a mark or not. The sound of his zipper lowering makes you choke back a sob, and you gasp softly at the feel of his bare cock against your ass.
“I saw, you know,” he grunts as he ruts against you. “Fucking pathetic, couldn’t even let you get off first.” Bucky lets out a low, guttural laugh when your pussy clenches around him, fresh wetness coating his fingers. “Mmm, feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” You clench around him. “Real man would have taken care of you—that’s why I had to step in and do it.” Bucky doesn’t let up, and you whine and writhe against him.
Your orgasm hits you like a train and you arch against his knee, your cunt throbbing as your release coats his fingers thick and sticky. You can feel Bucky moving against you, your pleasure—your shame—leaking back to coat his cock. Limp and wrung out from the force of it, you shudder. Maybe it’s cruel irony that Pat had never made you feel quite like this, that this man who you you undeniably hate can play your body like a fine instrument.
His hands rise to cup your breasts, flicking at your nipples through your bralette. “If I didn’t want to be in your pussy so bad, I’d give this sweet ass of yours a try,” Bucky says as his the head of his cock slides lewdly against your puckered entrance. You push ineffectively at his metal hand as he lifts your hips, positioning his cock underneath your twitching cunt.
“Bucky, Bucky no—”
“Stopwhining, doll,” his words end in a sigh as his cock begins to press up into you, pushing against the tightness of your entrance until it pops inside. He groans, huffing out an appreciative breath. “You’re like velvet inside, you know that?” He’s so thick, it’s like there’s not enough room inside of you for all of him, but he pushes in anyway.
You squeak as he fills you, his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against your bare thighs. Bucky kneads your hip with one hand and rocks against you slow, but even his short thrusts steal the air from your lungs. Even the sting of his cock stretching you open winds with the pleasure eating away at every conscious thought that manages to break through the static in your brain.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart,” he underscores the complement with another muffled curse. “Could stay in you all goddamned day.” He doesn’t fuck you like Pat does, with quiet efficiency, mindful of how long he’s taking—Bucky fucks you like it’s all he wants to do. His strokes are slow, leisurely, and you sob at the slow drag of him against your walls.
Bucky bounces you on his lap, and your breath gurgles in your throat. “F-full…” You don’t even realize you’ve spoken until Bucky’s black-honey laugh meets your ear.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” He kneads your breasts with one greedy hand while the other tugs your legs apart, splaying you open lewdly across his thighs. Bucky sinks in with a loud squelch that makes you keen. Distantly, you’re aware of the slapping of flesh, the squeal of the springs in you and Pat’s ancient couch as Bucky lays into you with languid heavy thrusts.
“Nice, fat cock digging you out—tell me baby, that miserable excuse for a man ever make you feel this good?” When you don’t answer immediately, Bucky’s hips snap into yours hard, the head of his cock punching against your cervix. You wail, babbling.
“N-no, no Bucky!” You wish that the guilt that flares up in you at your forced honesty is enough to quell the tide of pleasure cresting over you. You hate him—but your body still responds. “Oh, oh God—”
Pleasure sears the synapses in your brain, fireworks exploding behind your unseeing eyes as you gape up at your ceiling. Bucky fucks you through it, abandoning his slow, deep pace for quick, sharp thrusts.
“Fuck, m’gonna fill you up, doll, want you leakin’ with me for days—”He growls low in his throat, strained breaths puffing against your ear as sticky warmth floods you, his cock jerking against your walls. The both of you sit there, panting as you try to piece everything back together.
Bucky strokes the side of your face, before pressing a kiss into your hair.
“See, doll?” He says with a dry laugh. “Not so bad.”
I am no longer maintaining taglists, my friends! Please follow @box-of-bones-library and turn on notifications to get updates about new fics, chapters, and drabbles! thank you!
Summary: Caught in an anti-hero demonstration, you become an unwilling participant in a political game of tug of war. Tony Stark wants you to be the new poster child for his pro-Avengers rhetoric, Nick Fury wants you to fade into the background, and Bucky Barnes… wants something else from you entirely.
Warnings: Near Death Experience, Noncon, Stalking, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Smut, Breeding, Infidelity, Dark!AU, Grey/Dark Avengers AU,
A/N: i can only hope y’all are as excited to read this next chapter as i am to share it with you. i’m so happy to be back in the Rattler-verse!! bottom divider by @firefly-graphics.
The work below is my own, and is unbeta’d and unedited. I do not consent for it to be translated and or posted elsewhere by anyone but myself. Minors, DNI!
The makeup artist spritzes you with something, telling you to close your eyes just before the droplets make contact with your skin. You’ve never been much for makeup, and so when Tony asked if you’d like someone to “get you camera ready”, you’d said yes without a second thought. Now though, as she spun you in the chair and positioned you like a doll, you were beginning to regret it.
“Just stay still, yes?” She says sternly in her thick accent. “Spray need time to set.” She seems rather busy, flitting around the little room with the nervous energy of a hummingbird. “No touch face,” she warns, waggling a finger at you. “I be back.”
You count to ten before opening your eyes nervously, expecting to see Svetlana waiting with her arsenal of make-up brushes, but instead, you see Bucky. Leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his eyes cloudy and unreadable.
“Oh,” you can’t help the sharp intake of breath as you raise your hand to your chest in surprise. “S-Sorry. I was expecting…” You trail off. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He says. “I’m just first on guard duty.” The smile he gives you is unsure, like he doesn’t know whether it’s okay to make a joke or not. He reaches out a hand for you to shake, and you take it, noting the warmth and whir of machinery under your touch.
“Ah.” You tap your fingers against the arms of the chair you’re in, unsure of what to say. You don’t know if you should bring up that you remember him, remember what he did—he didn’t seem too comfortable with it in the hospital room, and you’re loathe to invite the dislike of one of the people tasked with your protection.
“I um, I just, God, sorry this is awkward. I wanted to say thank you. Um. For saving me. I’m going to say it, you know, out there, but I thought it might be more meaningful if you, um. Heard it from me personally first.”
It isn’t quite surprise that graces Bucky’s ; features, his eyebrows rising up his forehead. More like incredulity, like he hasn’t really ever been thankedbefore.
“You’re welcome.” He says after a moment, like he’s trying to figure out just how to respond. “I know Tony can be pushy.” He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh. “But thank you. For what you’re doing.”
You’re still not sure about it, and the thought of standing in front of the press is starting to make your hands clammy. A nervous laugh bubbles from your lips.
“I wouldn’t thank me yet. I’m not the best public speaker.” You fix Bucky with a wry smile. “There’s still time to find someone better, I think.”
“You’ll do fine, doll. Just… pretend they’re not there. Would it help if I stood in the audience?” He asks, a small smile on his full lips. “Make it like you’re talkin’ to me. Not them.” His suggestion brings a shy heat to your cheeks—that’s the kind of thing Pat would have suggested, if he’d been able to get the time off from the nursing home to make it, anyway.
“Yeah, actually. You’d do that? I thought you were just supposed to like, keep people from stabbing me, sort of thing,” You joked, and he laughed.
“I can do that from the audience, doll. Your guy’s got nothing to worry about.” He jerks his head towards the modest oval cut diamond on your left ring finger. “Already saved you once, figure I’ve got a pretty good track record.”
You laugh, and it surprises you because it’s actually real. You’d been worried they would all be like Tony, plastic and terrible and fake,but Bucky seemed… nice, despite his kind of checkeredpast. You’re about to say something else when Svetlana clears her throat behind him. Her foot taps impatiently against the expensive tile as she glares at him.
“Move, metal man. I finish her now.”
Bucky holds his hands up placatingly. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’. I’ll be right outside if you need me to,” he pantomimes a chokehold, and you stifle a giggle. He seems… relieved, like he’d been on guard—and you had to admit you had been too.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.
It wouldn’t be so terrible to come out of this with a friend—maybe one that would enjoy Patrick’s four hour Call of Duty sessions more than you did.
When Svetlana finishes your makeup, you’re sandwiched between her and Bucky all the way backstage. You swallow nervously at the sight of Tony Stark, locked in a particularly heated conversation with Nick Fury—who didn’t look happy.
“—options? Creating your own propaganda machine just the next logical step?”
“It’s not propaganda if it’s true. You know we can’t afford another Germany, not now—”
“Buck! And the guest of honor, I presume.” Steve Rogers steps directly into your field of vision, a hand outstretched for you to shake. “Nice to see you again.” You finagle your crutches until you can balance long enough to shake it firmly. His wife peeks out from behind him, and Steve wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “No need to be shy, sweetheart.”
You watch her give a strained smile. “Nice to meet you.” She’s heavily pregnant—likely about to pop any day now. You recall the news headlines from just months prior, the news footage of Captain America pulling his beloved wife from the firey wreckage of the accident.
I wouldn’t want to be here after that, either.
Steve presses an affectionate kiss into her hair. “I’m going to go find a place for this one to sit down. Shouldn’t be on her feet too much.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” she echoes softly, before giving you a genuine smile. “Good luck out there.” Her eyes flick to Steve and then back to you. “You’re in the snake pit, now.” You can’t ask her what she meant before Steve places a firm hand on her shoulder.
He steers her away, and you glance at Bucky. There’s a strange sort of… longingin his gaze as he watches them go, and you wonder if he has anyone to go home to. You only have a few seconds to ruminate on it, though, before Tony Stark’s wide grin is all you can see.
“Thank you for coming, thank you.” He looks genuinelypleased, at least. “I trust Sunshine here’s given you the rundown?” Tony jerks his thumb at Bucky, who simply glowers in his direction.
“Yeah. I go up there and utterly humiliate myself in front of the city and probably the whole world,” you mutter, wiping clammy palms against the dark blue fabric of your dress.
“You’ll do fine, kid. Can’t be harder than getting shot, right?” He claps you on the shoulder, and you swallow the urge to shove his hand away. You’re queasy enough as it is without the additional conflict.
Tony takes the stage before you do, and his solemn expression is reflected on the many screens all around the room. He’s used to press conferences, you can tell—he knows exactly where to look. It’s hard for you to concentrate on his introduction as you shift in your chair, waiting anxiously for him to pass the baton to you.
You wish Pat was here—he would know what to say, what to do to make these nerves nothing more than an unpleasant tingle in your chest. No, Pat is at work, again,and it’s yourfault. You clench your fists against your thigh, and try to take deep breaths. Slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth.
“You okay?” Even though his hand is made of metal, Bucky rests it lightly on your shoulder. “You need water, or something?” He looks up toward the stage, where you can see Tony’s back as he gesticulates, the same serious expression still painted onto his features. “Hate these things.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I’m… well, you know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Winter Soldier, and all.”
You nod your understanding. “No, I, um. I get it.” Bucky’s smile is small, but grateful.
“Say the word, and I’m your man in the crowd, doll.” He reminds you, just as Tony turns and gestures to you.
“It’s time,” he mouths the words at you, just in case his clear signals weren’t enough.
“Yes, please. Do that.” You huff out a breath as you situate your crutches under your arms and hobble over to the short set of steps. There’s a podium, and a little red stool beside it, which you gratefully sit on. There are so many people, cameras flashing—your heart thuds in your chest faster than an oncoming train.
And then you spot him. Close to the front, in the middle, his arms folded but there, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Thanks Bucky.
You’d missed Tony’s introduction entirely, but you don’t really need it—hands immediately begin popping up as you settle yourself on your seat, and hesitantly, you call on one of the first reporters you see.
“Yes?”
She stands a little taller, raising her microphone above the crowd. “In your own words, what happened on April 17th?”
“I, I, um—” You glanced down at Bucky and tried to remind yourself you were just talking to him. A casual conversation between friends. “I’m an art history student. Masters. So I am—I was,”you correct yourself, “at the Museum a lot. I think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, because I was in the exhibit room Adrian Kettleton locked himself in when he came to make his demonstration.
I don’t know what happened before he started shooting. But when he did… everyone was on the ground. There was a lady there w-with kids,” your throat goes tight, and blindly, you grasp for the microphone. “S-sorry, I, um, I need a minute.” You turn away from the reporters, cover your face with your hands, and tryto breathe deep. What would Pat say?
“It’s okay, babe, take all the time you need.”
You wait until your heart is steady again before you lower your hands
“Kettleton opened fire, and he said this would all be over soon. That the cops would show up and that—” You choked back a sob—“only a few people would have to die.” You hadn’t even really talked about this with Pat, leaving it for the insurance-provided therapist to untangle. He shot two people before me while the police tried to talk him down, and…” Bucky nods encouragingly at you from the audience.
“Then the Avengers showed up. I… I had already been shot, but… I would be dead if they weren’t there.”
You’re not sure if you did what you were supposed to do, Bucky’s face is passive, and you can’t really look behind you to gauge Tony’s reaction. A man in the front raises his hand, and you point at him.
“So what you’re saying is, the police were ineffectual?”
You frown. “N-no, I didn’t say that, I said—”
“You said that the Avengers showed up. You’d already been shot, isn’t that right?”
You press your lips together into a frown. “Yes. Yes that’s right. But I’m notsaying the police were ineffectual. I’m saying that the Avengers saved my life.”
“I see.” You wonder how far he’ll run with that, how far they’ll allrun with it, but several more hands jump into the air, and your heart beats faster at the sight of them.
“Do you believe the shooting in Texas and the one in Shanghai are related?”
“Did you know Adrian Kettleton prior to the shooting? You both attended NYU, only a few years apart.”
“Your father shares some anti-hero sentiment, how does he feel about this?”
You’re dizzy as Tony helps you from the stage, camera flashes still seared into your retinas.
“You did good, kid. Real good.”
—
“It’s not that bad.” Patrick’s voice is wheedling through the bathroom door. You’d gotten home a few hours ago, and had been grateful to spend your evening binging the shows you’d missed with Patrick on his night off—
Until your phone began blowing up with clips of you,at the press junket. Different news stations had grabbed different parts, zeroing in on everything. Your speech, your movements, your hair, your clothes—
Rita: you seeing this?
Your little sister had attached a screenshot of a twitter thread, and you huff out a frustrated breath as you glare at it.
“It’s not you they’re publicly dissecting,” you moan. It’s not justyour friends and sister sending you things, it’s your socials—your twitter mentions are numbering in the tens of thousands, and your facebook friend requests look about the same. Your private instagram account has seven thousand follow requests, and you scroll through them all with your heart in your throat.
There are people calling you a liar, a con artist, claiming the Avengers were in on it, that they’d paid you to take a bullet. There were people claiming you’d never even been shot at all, which in and of itself was laughable. There were more, kinder folks, sending you well wishes, along with bots attempting to hawk you miracle remedies and diet teas.
A disaster.
“You know there’s someone claiming to be my third grade teacher?” You lament. “Which, if that really isMiss Hayes, makes me feel like shit because she called me a petulant little drama-queen.” Patrick sighs, and you can feel the weight of it through the door.
“One, I doubt that’s her because she would be like, ancient now, and probably not on twitter at all. And two—” The sound of the intercom buzzing cuts him off, ringing loudly through the apartment. You can practically hear the frown in Pat’s voice. “Who the hell…? I’ll be right back.” He clamors away from the door, and you get to your feet, brushing a few cat hairs from your leggings.
“Oh. I just, I guess we didn’t know you were coming. Starting tonight? Okay. Hold on, I’ll buzz you up.”
You poke your head out of the bathroom door in time to see Patrick unlocking the front door at the far end of the long hallway.
“You didn’t tell me you were supposed to have bodyguards,” he shout-whispers at you. “Your first shift is here. I think it’s all the press stuff.” You pad down the hallway to peek around Patrick, listening to the sound of heavy footfalls coming up the narrow stairs to your apartment.
Bucky’s chestnut hair comes into view first, and then his dark, steel blue eyes light on yours and he smiles.
“Hey, there, dollface.” Your face warms as Patrick’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly on your upper arm. “Sir.” He nods to your fiancé in greeting, and Pat relaxes a little.
“I thought I only needed someone, you know. During the speaking engagements,” you say, stepping aside to allow Bucky into the apartment. Patrick locks the door behind him, his face a bad mask of good-will. He isn’t happy about Bucky being here, but the both of you know he’d deposited Tony’s check yesterday—there was little he could do about it now other than ride it out.
“Some of those folks online are saying some pretty nasty things. Thought it might be a good idea for one of us to be close by in case anything happened.” He doesn’t step further inside than the foyer, like he’s trying to make it clear he knows he doesn’t belong. “I can stay out in the hall if it’s a bother.”
“No, of course not.” You know Patrick would have told him that was fine—male pride—but it isn’t, not for you. “You came to protect me, the least we can offer is the couch.”
You hobble around after Patrick, helping set up the couch for your unexpected guest. Bucky doesn’t intrude, toeing off his boots in the entry way and hanging his jacket on the hook while he waits.
“Thank you. I’ll just knock out here.” He lays down on the couch, folding his arms behind his head. You and Patrick retreat awkwardly into the bedroom, and he turns on a random show on Netflix to cover the sound of his whispered frustration.
“It’s just, you’d think they’d tell us something like that could be a possibility.” He runs a hand through his curly hair. “It’s just… It’s a little scary, I guess.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted me to go sign up for this,” you shoot back. Patrick relents, throwing his arms up and heaving an irritated sigh.
“I hate when you’re right.”
“You just hate that I think things all the way through,” you mutter, punching his arm. “Now help me into bed.” You giggle as he sweeps you up, depositing you onto the bed. You haven’t slept with Patrick since you’d been home from the hospital, and he hadn’t pushed, but tonight when he kisses you, there’s intentbehind it that you can feel. You sigh against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his face.
There’s a dull thump and the sound of footfall— was the door always open a crack?— but living in a building this old means your life has a soundtrack of unexplainable noises, and so you dismiss it.
Pat is careful, his thrusts slow and shallow when he slides in, and you sink your teeth into your lip to hide your soft moan at his entry. He feels good, familiar inside of you, and he brings his thumb down to rub at your clit when he cums just before you can. You whine into your closed fist, your thighs trembling as your walls contract around his still hard cock. Pat makes a pleased noise low in his throat before he slides out of you, kissing the tip of your nose.
It feels like a walk of shame as you hobble to the bathroom to clean yourself up, but Bucky’s deep, steady breaths assure you of his slumber when you sneak back to bed. That’s ridiculous. I’m an engaged woman and this is my house.
You lay down next to Patrick, falling quickly into dreamless sleep.
Hazily, some hours later, you’re aware of the sound of his pager going off, and he shifts with a groan. You’re used to it, him being called in early for a shift, though you hate the loss of him. Your bed is warm and comfortable, even without Pat in it, and you fade softly in and out, time interrupted by the brief stretches of black behind your eyelids. Pat getting up—and then dressed—and then kissing you goodbye, his cologne tickling the insides of your nostrils.
“Bye babe,” he whispers, brushing his lips over the apple of your cheek. “Be back later.”
“Mmm,” is all you manage to mumble in response. Something clicks— the front door, maybe? You aren’t sure —and in the silence, you slip back into slumber. You’re dreaming of flying, and then— hands, rough, warm hands, no, one is cold, cold on your skin— you mumble sleepily.
“Pat?”
“Mmm,” he grunts from between your legs, his nose pushing up against the seam of your panties. He pushes up the hem of your t-shirt, and you feel the cool metal of his orderlies’s tags against your thigh before he moves them away, his lips dragging over the spot the’d just vacated. You’re so tired—the painkillers keep you woozy until at least mid-afternoon—your eyes are barely cooperating as Patrick attaches his lips to your clit through the thin cotton of your panties. His beard rasps against your thighs, burning against your skin deliciously.
You gasp, thighs tightening around his head. Two fingers edge beneath your panties, tugging them aside so that he can slide his tongue through your folds with an appreciative sigh. You drag a hand through his hair under the blanket, and Patrick chuckles huskily against your core.
“Feel good, sweetheart?”
His voice is off, somehow, too husky, too low, but the pressure of his fingers at your entrance pushes the thought from your head. The sweet burning stretch of them makes you keen, your hips bucking up toward his face. He doesn’t let up, and you squeal loudly as his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, and he curls his fingers inside you.
“Go on and cum, sweetheart. S’alright.”
Youdo,your toes curling as tears leak out of the corners of your closed eyes. You whine as he wiggles his fingers inside your spasming cunt, drawing them out with an embarrassingly slick noise. There’s another sound, like he’s licking them clean, and he chuckles again.
“Sweet.”
—
You sit up in bed with a start, wincing at the pounding in your skull. The pain meds always make you feel hung over when you wake up, and today is no exception. A glance at the digital clock on the table tells you it’s after midday, and Pat’s side of the bed is long cold.
I must have slept through him leaving, again.
You slide out of bed, and your cheeks heat at the wetness between your thighs. You’d known Patrick missedsex, but you hadn’t thought he’d missed it that much. You couldn’t keep the little smile off of your face as you limped to the kitchen, and found Bucky seated at the table, a newspaper in hand.
“G’morning, sleepy head. Your honey left you some breakfast on the stove.” He jerked his head toward the plate on the bottom right burner. You lifted a corner of the paper towel, and saw he’d left you scrambled eggs, with a few slices of cheese on top. “He always leave so early?”
You popped the plate into the microwave, nodding.
“Yeah. They’re really short at the nursing home, so it happens a couple times a week. But if he left that early, he should be back—” Patrick’s key clicks in the door, and you laugh. “Right about now.”
You hear him kicking off his shoes in the entryway, before he pokes his head into the kitchen. “Oh, look, you’re up.”
“Blame the pills,” you grumble, grinning as he presses a kiss to your cheek. You run the backs of your knuckles over the smooth curve of his cheek, and you furrow your brow. “When did you shave?”
“This morning, before I left.” He cocks his head as you swallow thickly. “Why?”
Your eyes slide to Bucky, casually skimming the paper as he lifts a mug of coffee to his lips.
I am no longer maintaining taglists, my friends! Please follow @box-of-bones-library and turn on notifications to get updates about new fics, chapters, and drabbles! thank you!
Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Feelings come to light in the most fitting way. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Pining, fluff, insecurities, feels, idiots in love admitting how they feel (is that a warning?), roommate!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?), Alpine still being the best cat ever A/N: Hey, lovelies! We finally get to see how Stud and Smartie get together. And to me, it’s just right. Beta read by the beautiful @maladaptivexxdaydreaming, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @vase-of-lilies. Moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!
The sound of the clock ticking in the quiet apartment taunted you as you sat on the couch. You matched the timing to the rhythm of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” without realizing it until you heard yourself humming the tune. Ever since that night in the kitchen, you found yourself playing the song on repeat when you were alone. You wished you could dance with Bucky every night. It would be a dream come true.
I’m all in my feels today and I’m not gonna lie this made me tear up. It was so sweet and lovely. I love when he started telling her about the “book”, my heart just melted I love these two so much and the puzzle idea was perfect for them! This was amazing, Navy!
Summary:Joining the Avengers wasn’t on your plans. Not until Steve asked you to help his best friend. Bucky was Bucky, but the Winter Soldier still came from time ti time, bringing with him chaos and destruction. And you was supposed to keep that side of him away… But what happens when both Bucky and the Winter Soldier start to enjoy your company more than anyone else? Should you turn your back on the Soldier, ignore his own fears and traumas? That’s exactly what everyone wants. But you were never known for following orders…
×
“Stark called me again.” You say, a cup of tea still half full and warm in your hands. “Guess why.”
“Recruitment.” Steve sighs, putting the empty bowl of cereal on the coffee table next to his feet.
“Yup. He came with the ‘hello, how are you? How’s your job, how’s your paycheck, blah blah blah, wanna join us?’ ” Rolling your eyes, you pull your legs over, folding them under you. “Same thing as always.”
“He cares, (Y/N),” Steve says, turning the TV volume down. “On his own way, but he cares… But… Actually, (Y/N), I’ve been wanting to ask you to accept Stark’s for a different reason.”
Pinching your eyebrows together, you move to the kitchen island, sitting on the stool. “Different reason?”
“Yeah.” He heavily sighs, glancing at you before focusing on the dishes again. “You know we’re having problems with Bucky. Well… With his other side.”
“Wait.” You nervously chuckle. “You want to set me up with Barnes?” Steve’s friendship with Bucky is well known to you. They’re like brothers, and you, having the same feeling towards Steve, have the exact idea how that must feel. If it was Steve suffering from this, you’d be heartbroken. “I don’t see how I could be of any help.”
“It wasn’t my idea, not originally. The Hulk only calmed down after Banner got closer to Nat.”
“So you are trying to set me up with Barnes.” You don’t have much contact with him. You met him twice when Steve managed to make him go out and you were there too. But that was it.
“I trust you. And Bucky knows I trust you. I just think having someone by his side could help somehow.”
“Doesn’t he have the other Avengers?”
“He feels guilty because of what The Winter Soldier did to them. They’re there to help, of course, but he holds back, isolates himself. Not as much as before, but still.”
“And you think I could help him how?” Shrugging your shoulders, you wonder if you could do it. But that would also mean finally joining the Avengers. So there’s that.
“If you manage to befriend him, I think it would be enough.”
“You think tiny, little me will be enough to keep the Winter Soldier away.”
×
“What’s up, Barnes?” You ask, sitting next to him, a leg on each side of the bench as you sit sideways, facing him. “I heard the punchbag crying, you should give it a break.”
Bucky smiles a little before looking at you. “Hello, miss–”
“(Y/N).” You cut him off, pointing your bottle at him. “Call me (Y/N).”
“Call me Bucky.” He says, nodding his head. “So Steve managed to finally convince you to join the Avengers.”
“He did. But only because I was given a special mission.” Nobody intended on keeping this a secret. Bucky needs to know you care, you and Steve. “I’m here to help you.”
He furrows his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders. “Help me? How so?”
“I–”
“Tell me it’s not about the other guy, (Y/N).” He moves to stand up, but you hold his arm, keeping him from going anywhere. “This is dangerous. I can’t believe Steve brought you into this.”
“Steve is worried about you. And it’s not like I’ll… Do something. I’m just here to… Offer you my friendship and stand by you, no matter what.” Bucky sighs, shaking his head. But he sits down again, looking at the floor. “And well, I’m with the Avengers now. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Just stay away when… He… Comes out.” Bucky says in a low, sad voice.
×
“Who are you?”
The voice, low and deep, but at the same time way too loud, breaks the silence and startles you, making your blood run cold for a second. You push the fridge door close in your desperation, eyes quickly moving to the source of the sound. There’s a figure seated on the edge of the table, alone in the dark. The only thing that helps you recognize him is the ray of blueish light that illuminates his shoulder and chest.
“Damn it, Bucky. You scared the hell out of me.” You whisper, a hand on your heart. “What are you doing here in the dark?”
“Who are you?” He asks again, and you just don’t follow.
Squinting your eyes, you tilt your head to the side a little. “Is it a joke? Like a knock-knock joke? Because I don’t get it. You should–”
You’re still speaking when he abruptly stands up, and that’s when it clicks.
Bucky doesn’t speak like this. Bucky doesn’t behave like this. Bucky doesn’t walk up to you like he’s ready to take you down.
“W-wait.” You mutter, raising a hand at him. As if it could stop him. Your eyes fall on the knife holder, but since your fighting reflexes weren’t mastered yet, he moves at the same time you do, blocking your way.
“I won’t ask a third time,” Bucky says, and the lower tone of his voice scares you. But it’s even worse when he takes a knife.
“Shit.” You mumble, slowly moving backward. Then it happens suddenly. He catches up to you, violently pushing you against the wall. A yelp leaves your lips when his metal arm lies on your chest, metal hand with a firm grip of your shoulder as his forearm presses your collarbones. It feels like he’s a rock that fell on you, making it impossible to move. “Bucky, please–”
“I’m not Bucky.” He barks, and you feel the blade against your side, right on your ribs.
“No, you’re not.” You tell him, talking fast. “You’re the Soldier.” To that, he tilts his head to the side a little, his eyes set on yours as the man towers over you. “And I swear I mean no harm.” Grinding your teeth at the pain, you wonder if he could break your collarbone or dislocate your shoulder. But you try to remain calm, slowly raising both your hands, showing him you have no gun, no weapon, nothing. “Soldiers don’t kill unarmed, defenseless women.”
“I do if I’m given the order.”
Breathing deeply, you weakly nod. “But you have no orders.” A red, floating circle gets your attention, and your eyes move from Bucky to the rectangular screen on the wall. Tony’s AI is watching. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. isolate the kitchen. Security protocol number seven.”
“Are you sure, miss (Y/N)?” He asks.
“Yes, I am.” You assure him, and you only listen as the metal doors are closed, locking you and the Winter Soldier alone.
“What are you doing?” He asks in a low voice, stepping closer to you until his whole body is pushing you against the wall, eyes never leaving yours. As if you’re some imminent threat that he needs to be aware of at all times.
Summary:Joining the Avengers wasn’t on your plans. Not until Steve asked you to help his best friend. Bucky was Bucky, but the Winter Soldier still came from time ti time, bringing with him chaos and destruction. And you was supposed to keep that side of him away… But what happens when both Bucky and the Winter Soldier start to enjoy your company more than anyone else? Should you turn your back on the Soldier, ignore his own fears and traumas? That’s exactly what everyone wants. But you were never known for following orders…
×
“Stark called me again.” You say, a cup of tea still half full and warm in your hands. “Guess why.”
“Recruitment.” Steve sighs, putting the empty bowl of cereal on the coffee table next to his feet.
“Yup. He came with the ‘hello, how are you? How’s your job, how’s your paycheck, blah blah blah, wanna join us?’ ” Rolling your eyes, you pull your legs over, folding them under you. “Same thing as always.”
“He cares, (Y/N),” Steve says, turning the TV volume down. “On his own way, but he cares… But… Actually, (Y/N), I’ve been wanting to ask you to accept Stark’s for a different reason.”
Pinching your eyebrows together, you move to the kitchen island, sitting on the stool. “Different reason?”
“Yeah.” He heavily sighs, glancing at you before focusing on the dishes again. “You know we’re having problems with Bucky. Well… With his other side.”
“Wait.” You nervously chuckle. “You want to set me up with Barnes?” Steve’s friendship with Bucky is well known to you. They’re like brothers, and you, having the same feeling towards Steve, have the exact idea how that must feel. If it was Steve suffering from this, you’d be heartbroken. “I don’t see how I could be of any help.”
“It wasn’t my idea, not originally. The Hulk only calmed down after Banner got closer to Nat.”
“So you are trying to set me up with Barnes.” You don’t have much contact with him. You met him twice when Steve managed to make him go out and you were there too. But that was it.
“I trust you. And Bucky knows I trust you. I just think having someone by his side could help somehow.”
“Doesn’t he have the other Avengers?”
“He feels guilty because of what The Winter Soldier did to them. They’re there to help, of course, but he holds back, isolates himself. Not as much as before, but still.”
“And you think I could help him how?” Shrugging your shoulders, you wonder if you could do it. But that would also mean finally joining the Avengers. So there’s that.
“If you manage to befriend him, I think it would be enough.”
“You think tiny, little me will be enough to keep the Winter Soldier away.”
×
“What’s up, Barnes?” You ask, sitting next to him, a leg on each side of the bench as you sit sideways, facing him. “I heard the punchbag crying, you should give it a break.”
Bucky smiles a little before looking at you. “Hello, miss–”
“(Y/N).” You cut him off, pointing your bottle at him. “Call me (Y/N).”
“Call me Bucky.” He says, nodding his head. “So Steve managed to finally convince you to join the Avengers.”
“He did. But only because I was given a special mission.” Nobody intended on keeping this a secret. Bucky needs to know you care, you and Steve. “I’m here to help you.”
He furrows his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders. “Help me? How so?”
“I–”
“Tell me it’s not about the other guy, (Y/N).” He moves to stand up, but you hold his arm, keeping him from going anywhere. “This is dangerous. I can’t believe Steve brought you into this.”
“Steve is worried about you. And it’s not like I’ll… Do something. I’m just here to… Offer you my friendship and stand by you, no matter what.” Bucky sighs, shaking his head. But he sits down again, looking at the floor. “And well, I’m with the Avengers now. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Just stay away when… He… Comes out.” Bucky says in a low, sad voice.
×
“Who are you?”
The voice, low and deep, but at the same time way too loud, breaks the silence and startles you, making your blood run cold for a second. You push the fridge door close in your desperation, eyes quickly moving to the source of the sound. There’s a figure seated on the edge of the table, alone in the dark. The only thing that helps you recognize him is the ray of blueish light that illuminates his shoulder and chest.
“Damn it, Bucky. You scared the hell out of me.” You whisper, a hand on your heart. “What are you doing here in the dark?”
“Who are you?” He asks again, and you just don’t follow.
Squinting your eyes, you tilt your head to the side a little. “Is it a joke? Like a knock-knock joke? Because I don’t get it. You should–”
You’re still speaking when he abruptly stands up, and that’s when it clicks.
Bucky doesn’t speak like this. Bucky doesn’t behave like this. Bucky doesn’t walk up to you like he’s ready to take you down.
“W-wait.” You mutter, raising a hand at him. As if it could stop him. Your eyes fall on the knife holder, but since your fighting reflexes weren’t mastered yet, he moves at the same time you do, blocking your way.
“I won’t ask a third time,” Bucky says, and the lower tone of his voice scares you. But it’s even worse when he takes a knife.
“Shit.” You mumble, slowly moving backward. Then it happens suddenly. He catches up to you, violently pushing you against the wall. A yelp leaves your lips when his metal arm lies on your chest, metal hand with a firm grip of your shoulder as his forearm presses your collarbones. It feels like he’s a rock that fell on you, making it impossible to move. “Bucky, please–”
“I’m not Bucky.” He barks, and you feel the blade against your side, right on your ribs.
“No, you’re not.” You tell him, talking fast. “You’re the Soldier.” To that, he tilts his head to the side a little, his eyes set on yours as the man towers over you. “And I swear I mean no harm.” Grinding your teeth at the pain, you wonder if he could break your collarbone or dislocate your shoulder. But you try to remain calm, slowly raising both your hands, showing him you have no gun, no weapon, nothing. “Soldiers don’t kill unarmed, defenseless women.”
“I do if I’m given the order.”
Breathing deeply, you weakly nod. “But you have no orders.” A red, floating circle gets your attention, and your eyes move from Bucky to the rectangular screen on the wall. Tony’s AI is watching. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. isolate the kitchen. Security protocol number seven.”
“Are you sure, miss (Y/N)?” He asks.
“Yes, I am.” You assure him, and you only listen as the metal doors are closed, locking you and the Winter Soldier alone.
“What are you doing?” He asks in a low voice, stepping closer to you until his whole body is pushing you against the wall, eyes never leaving yours. As if you’re some imminent threat that he needs to be aware of at all times.
Orion Rebecca Barnes’s favorite thing in the whole world (besides her daddy of course) is spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house and the owner GIVES her any book she wants; she’s the coolest girl Orion has ever met.
It doesn’t take long for Bucky to notice his daughter’s sudden interest in constellations and the large stack of astrology related books piling up in her room. He’s spent her entire life trying to teach her about the stars and where her name came from with little interest from his little comet and all of sudden she’s in love.
Summary: You’ve seen many things and met many people on your travels, but nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the White Wolf and what he has planned for you. (70s AU)
Pairing: cult leader!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader
Word count:6,556
Warnings:Dubcon/noncon.Smut (fingering, oral f receiving, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex). Swearing. Descriptions of drug use and drugging. Forced body mutilation (branding). Manipulation and mentions of cult-like ideology. Use of pet names (angel). Bucky is dark and all kinds of crazy. (18+ only please).
A/N: This is my entry for @boxofbonesfic’s Spooktacular Smutfest challenge. I chose cult leader Bucky and the quote prompt “Why are you doing this?”, “Because I want to. Because I can.” which is in bold. A huge thank you to @sweeterthanthis for reading this and letting me scream at her about the idea. You’re amazing and ilysm. Gif found here. Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Please follow @gogolucky13-library for all writing updates. Happy reading!
The tops of your shoulders burn in the glaring light of high noon, your brow crinkling against the bright rays. Sweat beads along your hairline and layers on the back of your neck as the heat continues to rise. Aimlessly, you walk along the desolate dirt road; worn cowboy boots scuffing in the ground and creating small clouds of dust that swirl around your ankles.
You’ve been called many things over the years—a drifter, a wanderer, a stupid, fucking hippie.
Always on the move and never staying in one place for too long, you can’t say the names are wrong. But for years, it’s been the only life you’ve known since running off at the tender age of seventeen. Sometimes you don’t remember how you ended up somewhere or what state you’re even in, but it never matters to you; just so long as where you’re going isn’t where you came from.
Ughhhhh cult leader Bucky, come and put a brand on it. this was so hot and possessive and just the right amount of creepy. I loved this almost as much as I love you. Lol
I hope to dream of The White Wolf keeping me locked away in his cult cabin of love/doom. ❤️
Shame on him for drugging her but I still love him too ig
Summary: Loki gets captured by the TVA and gets to see his past were he finds out that he had a lover; you.
A/N: so I watched the first episode of Loki and it inspired me to get out of my writers block and write a story about Loki looking back at his past and sees someone that loved him. So trigger warning VERY EMOTIONAL AND LOKI EPISODE 1 SPOILERS
Loki had never felt so far away from the concept of control until now. He never felt so lost, so helpless and so purposeless until he stepped foot in the TVA. He hated the feeling, he hated feeling this way, he hated the Avengers but most of all, Loki hated himself.
At first, he thought it was a joke. That this place was all a front, that he was a God and a God was the most powerful being. However, after visiting Casey and finding the multitude of infinity stones used as paper weight, he realised that the TVA was no joke. The TVA was in fact the keepers of time and all the choices his made were choices that was already written.
Except him running away of course.
Loki looked at the projector that was playing before, paused on all the Avengers. A thought had slowly crept into his brain. The thought of looking at his whole life. He shuddered at the thought. He was scared. Mobius had told him his life purpose was to create pain and suffering for others so that they can achieve the best version of themselves. Had that been true? Was his whole life just pain and suffering? Had his life been a meaningless void filled to aid others to the betterment of themselves while he crumbled to nothingness?
Loki let out a sigh, thinking to himself how he might as well see how horrible his life was. He sat down on the metal chair, letting out a breath. His shaky hand went to the player, fast forwarding it to his mother’s death. The death that he had caused.
A single tear rolled down his cheek as he realised that his mother’s death was on him. He never thought Mobius was telling truth, that he was lying to manipulate Loki. But the infinity stones in Casey’s drawers had reminded him about the awful fact that he did indeed kill his mother. He was the reason why his mother had died. In an effort to gain control of his life, he lost the one thing that mattered to him the most; his mother.
He fast forwarded it but paused when he saw an familiar face, your familiar face. He was confused, you were the one who fought against him with the Avengers, why did you show up again? Did he come back to Earth?
“Loki, you are not responsible for your mother’s death,” you spoke, walking around to face him. He could see the skyline behind you, realising it was the Avenger’s Tower. Apparently he had returned to Earth after his mother’s demise.
“I led them to her!” He heard himself yell, chucking a glass. But you didn’t flinch. “I led them to her! I killed her!”
He watched as you walked closer to him, grabbing his hand. “You were in your lowest state, vulnerable to your weakest intuition. Your father had imprisoned you. Even though someone had been torturing you to do the things you had to do to New York.”
Loki flinched at that. Were you guys that close that he told you his deepest darkest secret? About how Thanos had tortured him and imprisoned him to get the other infinity stones?
“How did you know about that?” Loki yelled at you.
Apparently not.
“Because I can tell when someone has been tortured and manipulated by monsters,” you replied back in a calm voice, your eyes tearing up. “I know Loki. I know how it feels to helpless, to feel lost and unwanted and-“
Loki stopped it, his breath trembling. He fast forwarded it, not wanting to hear anything else as more tears fell down his face. He paused again, seeing a provocative image fill the screen and his veins filled with curiosity.
“Loki,” he heard your voice moan. He watched on as he saw himself not fucking you, but making love to you. He watched himself, his eyes filled with love and adoration at yourself.
He watched as your bodies molded together so perfectly, how you were both moving in synchrony. He watched as none of you broke eye contact, as both of you moaned in pure bliss.
“I love you,” he heard himself tell you. Something he never realised he would ever tell anyone. And by the vulnerability in his eyes, he knew future him had a hard time even saying it. He looked at you as if he was scared he had frightened you, as if those words had pushed you away.
But it didn’t. It had made your bright and beautiful smile broaden even more.
“I love you too.”
He let out a breath, not stopping himself from crying this time. Had he finally found someone who loved him for himself? Had he really been that lucky? He paused it again, looking at you. How your eyes looked at his. How calming and serene you two looked together.
He fast forwarded.
“How could you do that!” He heard himself screaming at you. Your face was in tears, looking back at him. “How could you be so idiotic, I told you to go back!”
“Why are you so mad, I’m still alive aren’t I?” You yelled back, clutching your stomach.
“Barely! God you humans are so daft!” He yelled back at you, his hands brushing his hair back. “Humans are so fucking daft and fucking pathetic!”
“Oh I’m sorry God Almighty, forgot you were immortal!” You yelled back, letting out a groan as your stomach was fighting against your screaming. “I’ll take the thank you later.”
“Thank you? Thank you!” Loki yelled back at you. “That weapon would’ve barely scratched me! You didn’t need to risk your life to stop it! You didn’t need to almost die just so you get to play hero and-“
“Don’t you understand that I can’t lose you!” He heard you scream louder than ever before, making him go silent. You let out a sob, shaking your head. “You’re the only- only good thing that has ever happened to me. And and- fuck, it scares me how much I love you. I love you Loki Laufeyson. I love you so much that I’d go through hell and back just to make you smile even if it meant I wasn’t alive to see it!”
Loki paused the video, letting out a sob before shaking his head. He couldn’t even fathom it. He thought he was an unlovable monster. Yet it seemed that you were blind to all of it.
He fast forward.
“I bought you a house,” Loki heard himself again.
You two were lying on bed, looking like you were in a private room on a spaceship. Both of you cuddling under the the sheets, Loki’s fingers drawing shapes on your skin.
You laughed at him, not taking him serious. But his face didn’t change, stopping your laugh. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Mhmm,” Loki replied back kissing your knuckles. You giggled at him, and Loki’s smile widened at your laugh. Even the Loki who watched on felt himself smiling at the sound of your voice giggling.
“And how did you get the money?”
“A god doesn’t pay.” Loki replied, laughing as you slapped him in the arm.
“Where’s the house? On Asgard?” You replied back jokingly. “How convenient for you, it’s in ashes now.”
“Earth.” Loki pushed your hair back. You looked at him in disbelief.
“Earth?” You questioned him, your face in bewilderment. “I thought you hated Earth, which is why we decided to visit Asgard instead.”
“But you love it,” Loki replied back, kissing your forehead. “And if you love it, then that’s enough for me.”
Loki fast forwarded it, unable to handle it watching it anymore. He needed to see how this played out. So he went to the end.
The hairs in his forearm rose as he stood up from his seat at the site of Thanos. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine, your bloodied face in the back.
“Please,” he heard you wheeze out, tears uncontrollably running down your face. You tried crawling over to Thanos, trying to find mercy within the Titan. “Please.”
“I am feeling generous today,” The Titan said with a smile before picking up Loki by the neck.
“No!” He heard you scream. It was as if all the energy in your body came out all at once as you got up to run, only to be locked down by pieces of metal from one of the children of Thanos. “No! Let him go please!”
“So I’ll only kill you, and I’ll spare your brother and the girl,” Thanos said, before snapping his neck.
Loki let out a deep breath, his whole body shaking. He heard you scream in agony, a shriek that can only be described as a mother losing a child to war. He watched as you flung your body on him, trying to protect him from the explosion of the ship. He watched as Thor begged you to leave, but you yelling that you weren’t going to leave him alone, that he was not dying alone. And then he watched on as the words ‘End of File’ were etched on the screen.
Loki shook his head, before he started laughing. Laughing at himself. Laughing at his life. Laughing at how just as life was getting better for himself, just as he started making amends, he died.
“What’s so funny?” He heard a voice say behind him. Loki smirked, turning around. The women looked at him weirdly, his face all tear stricken.
“Glorious purpose.”
•
“Loki?” Mobius called out to Loki who was sitting down, his hands on his face with the tesseract next to him. “Nowhere left to run.”
“I can’t go back, can I? Back to my timeline?” Loki asked, feeling helpless. Feeling sad. Sad because he will never have a story with you, a life with you. “I don’t enjoy hurting people. I- I don’t enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I’ve had to.”
Mobius slowly walked over to Loki, feeling a bit more motivated now that Loki was opening up to him more. “Okay, explain that to me.”
“Because it’s part of the illusion,” Loki explained, letting out a sigh. “It’s the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”
“A desperate play for control,” Mobius finished for him, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “You do know yourself.”
“A villain,” Loki scoffed. Mobius shook his head.
“That’s not how I see it.” He then looked at the tesseract that was near Loki. “You try to use that?”
“Oh, several times,” Loki laughed, looking at the tesseract with now lost interest. Men and women have died for this. Have started wars for this. Yet compared to the sacred timeline, these stones were toys. “Even an Infinity Stone is useless here. The TVA is formidable.”
“That’s been my experience.” Mobius peeked an eye on Loki, feeling sympathetic. He let out a sigh. “Listen, I can’t offer you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better. A fugitive Variant’s been killing our Minutemen.”
“And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?” Loki had asked him.
“That’s right.”
“Why me?” Loki asked confusedly, arching an eyebrow.
“Because the Variant we’re hunting,” he paused, looking Loki in the eye.
“Is Y/N”

•
You let out a breath, watching the minute men as they walked out of the portal. You hid back in the darkness, looking as the scene played out in front of you.
“I think some jackass found himself a time machine, came back here to get rich,” one of them spoke. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at their laziness. The TVA might be powerful, but god their workers were indolent.
“Should we fan out and look for him, sir?” A smarter minute man asked.
“Nah. It’s not worth the paperwork.” The minute man turned around, looking at the other worker. “Just prune it. Let’s bail. Set a charge.”
The minuteman was about to set the charge but before he did, he made eye contact with you. You raised a hand up, purple light seeping through your fingers. “Wait. Someone’s out there.”
“Who are you!” The minute men spoke, pointing their weapon at you. You know walked towards them, a little coy smile on your lips.
“I’ll make this easy for you guys.” You pointed at the device. “I want that. Give it to me, and I’ll spare you.”
“No you can’t just walk in here and-“
“Fine,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. Your finger lit up an even brighter purple spark, before pointing it towards the oil and lighting it up in flames.
You watched as the minute men burned into flames, slight twinge of guilt seeping through your veins. The Avengers would be so disappointed in you. But that thought disappeared as soon as it came to your head. You wanted Loki back, no matter what the cost.
You would walk to hell and back just to see him smile.
So you walked over to the device, picking it up before transforming back into your true form. The form you took after the final battle against Thanos. The form you took after you snapped your fingers, after taking the gauntlet. You didn’t care if you died when you wore the infinity gauntlet, you already lost Loki. But you didn’t died. Instead…
Just a little something for the Bucky girls waiting to be fed while I click and clack my fingers for the knb girlssss.
Summary:Bucky hates that fucking pillow.
You were having an affair.
It was an affair of convenience of course, being a few months pregnant your belly getting larger by the day you were unable to lay on your stomach and the pillow helped you stay comfortable.
If it weren’t for that sigh of content you let out each time you cuddled into it he’s ashamed to say the things he would do to it.
He hates that fucking pillow.
Like right now, he should be ending the day off holding you and baby girl as close as skin would allow until you began to fuse but there was that damn pillow. Touching everywhere he was supposed to be.
“Bucky.” You groan.
“Yes baby?”
“She’s kicking.” You wince.
It was beautiful, but now after weeks of having experienced the angelic kicks you more anticipated the pain when she was a bit too aggressive.
He slid down and rolled between your legs lightly tapped Ming your stomach. “What’re you doing in there?” He whispers.
You watch, looking over your stomach to watch him work his magic, more incredible each time he did it. He held a conversation with her, loved her and comforted her.
“Mommy’s trying to sleep. You think it’s fair that you’re in there playing soccer so late at night, don’t think that stuff will run when you get here. Bedtime is 8 pm sharp.”
He traces your stomach eyes filled with childlike wonder. “It’s lonely out here without you ladybug.” He kisses you softly. “But let’s make a deal huh? You let mom sleep a couple hours and we’ll be up bright and early to read some stories?”
“Bright and early?”
He cleared his throat. “I mean bright and… later than early?”
You chuckle. “Yeah, I think that works.”
He nods. Kissing your stomach one more time. “Til morning ladybug.”
He leans back into the pillows again. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere just moving over so you can space out with your pillow, baby.”
“Oh.” You frown. “Come closer, hold me.” You ask pouting. “Or do you want a little space?”
God, what a stupid question. He hates space, despises it actually. “Never.” Briskly he unhooks the pillow from around your frame pushing it onto the floor and scooting into his rightful place, pressing his chest against your back wrapping his arms under your belly.
Then that sigh leaves your lips. The same one that you breathe out when that fucking pillow was wrapped around you. A wicked smile crosses his lips and he flicks his middle finger up at the pillow lying on the floor.
![Title: All this and Heaven, Too [2]Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x ReaderSummary: Caught in an anti-her](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0c175516abf542b49baf582427fa27b2/2eab12baf9d49dc3-96/s1280x1920/f5f32e663e155eb7f1d3f95dede68badf3748f5a.jpg "Title: All this and Heaven, Too [2]Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x ReaderSummary: Caught in an anti-her")
