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dinner-djarin · 3 years

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Next To You (Bucky x reader)

Just a little one shot I wrote after watching FATWS on repeat. (I tried to make it gender neutral but I may have missed something so I'm sorry if it's not!)

Rating: Mature

No use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Bucky is having nightmares, and you're there to comfort him. Based on the Julia Michaels song If You Need Me. (so if the ending sounds dumb go listen to the song you'll understand why lol)

Warnings: Fluff & angst I guess idk, kinda dark themes, because well it's Bucky. Just two people who have definitely been through some shit. Oh ya that reminds me swearing. Suggested that intercourse has happened but nothing descriptive. A little (a lot) about trauma but mostly about nightmares. If I missed something pls lemme know, I don't want anyone to feel triggered reading. But if you can watch the show and be fine, you'll probably be okay with this.

Also just letting you know if I put ~ its cause I switch the focus from Bucky to reader, but I'm not switching POV completely its all written in reader POV.

Every night brought pieces of the past. He never knew which memory would be dragged to the surface once he let his subconscious take over - clawing and scrapping against the walls he put up, begging to be let out; to be confronted.

Some nights were worse than others of course.

He wasn’t sure how he was ever going to out run the monsters of his past. For a while he just stopped sleeping. It may not have been a permanent fix, but he thought some relief was better than none at all. He used to go days, even weeks, without sleep during the war, so he figured it might be the best way to silence the past.

Dr. Raynor, however, caught on quick.

A lot of her methods seemed like bullshit to Bucky. He could tell she was genuinely trying to help him, but he doubted anything she had anything to offer him that would prove to be effective.

But at the end of the day she was definitely no fool. He had a tough time lying to her. She didn’t take anyone's crap, and that might have been the only reason he trusted her, even a little. It may have been the only reason he actually gave it a sincere try (besides the fact he’d be arrested if he didn’t).

So he probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she caught on to his sleep strike. In fact she called him out on it only three days in. He thought he’d get longer than that. Even so, he was almost relieved. After only 72 hours he already felt the nightmares slowly creeping into the day. Every time a door slammed or a car horn blared his body tensed. Every time he turned a corner he’d reach for a knife he no longer carried. So maybe it was better to let his past haunt his nightmares. That way he’d be alone when the memories took over. That way he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

But he made a mistake. He did what he told himself he could never do. He let you get too close.

Falling asleep in your arms felt better than any therapy session he could ever imagine. It was the first time in forever he could remember what it was like to be his younger self. The version of him that marvelled at the idea of flying cars; who thought he could save the world by enlisting. The dreamy eyed boy who was hopeful for the future, who thought he had a future.

Lying next to you made him feel in control, like his problems didn’t matter. He was there to keep you safe, and warm, and comfortable. He never thought he’d feel like that with anyone. He didn’t think he was allowed.

You didn’t question his metal arm for starters. When Bucky took off his jacket, after the hundredth time you insisted - “It’s like 100 degrees in here Bucky, please take it off, you’re gonna melt” - he thought he’d instantly regret it. But you simply looked at it with wonder for only a moment, before returning your eyes up to his own. Staring back at you, he saw the wheels in your brain click into place. He could almost hear your thoughts as you decided what your next move would be.

In the blink of his eyes you tore your shirt off and stood completely still in front of him. For a moment his emotions were mixed, and he worried where your sudden advancement came from, but then he saw it. A thick white mark slashed across your torso.

You took only one step forward before speaking. “It’s not exactly… I know it’s not the same thing at all. But the scars - the marks we carry - they’ll be with us forever, whether we like it or not. Even if they remind us of the worst pieces of ourselves, or the worst moments of our lives, it reminds us that we can move forward. And it reminds me that there’s something to move forward to. I don’t know…it doesn’t really make any sense but somehow it’s almost comforting. To know that something will always be with us, till the end”

His mouth was on yours in an instant.

He had been hesitant to let anyone in. After coming back - after going through everything he’d been through - he felt like damaged goods. He worried that the minute he let himself be happy, everything would come crashing down again, and he had good reason to believe it. It just kept happening over and over. It seemed like every time he found even a small amount of peace, the battle made its way back to him.

But when he found you, when he felt you, he felt peace. The softness of your skin, the gentle wave of your hair, the light scrape of your fingernails against his back and chest, your quiet moans muffled by his own mouth on yours. Being with you made the horrors of his past melt away. Even when you clamped down around him and bit into his shoulder muscle, even when he knew you’d left marks all over his skin. Knowing they came from you made all the difference. They didn’t remind him of the wars he fought, or lives he took, or the atrocities he committed. The sting of your nails and teeth weren’t pains from his past, they were reminders of his present, of the possibility of a life he could have. With you.

But in the end he knew that it was all wishful thinking. He knew he wasn’t cut out for that type of future. He knew you deserved better.

So he decided to let you off easy, to disappear from your life, leaving your shared experience to the confines of your bedroom. A memory, nothing more. He knew he’d have to sneak away once you fell asleep, because that way it might not feel real. Everything that happened between you might disappear with him.

But then he fucked up.

He was waiting for your breath to even out, a sign he would take to mean you had fallen asleep, but after listening to the air rush out of your body, and watching your bare chest rise and fall, your hypnotic essence overpowered his will, and he fell asleep alongside you.

Only he wasn’t asleep for long.

Eventually the past caught up, as it always had a way of doing. Images, and sounds, and smells all came flooding back to his uninhibited brain - sleep made him an easy target. He was vulnerable to every torment he caused, and every mission he was forced to carry out. Tonight was no exception. His brain managed to sift through every wall he thought he had up, and trudge yet another painful memory to the surface. The image of himself taking life after life, cruelly and viciously. There was no remorse, no stopping him. He saw every crime lord and politician he was made to terminate. Until his brain moved away to a new idea. The image of a young woman. Innocent and pure. But in the way of his mission. The Winter Soldier spared none.

He woke up in a blind panic. His surroundings were unfamiliar. Something was wrong. Was he being held captive or-

“Hey,” you made yourself known to him, and he twisted his head back to see you sit up beside him. You were quiet, and a worried expression blanketed your face.

Is he angry, you thought for a moment? No. Your brain was tired, and it was slow to process. Not angry, scared.

You knew from the minute you saw his arm that there was more going on. You already had some suspicions, nevertheless you expected there to be something like this.

For a moment, the two of you stared at each other in silence. You watched him regain his breath, and you carefully shifted your legs to sit crossed underneath you.

His steel blue eyes cut through the darkness, pinning you down. You wondered what was going on in his mind, what he might be doing to regain his grip on reality. You knew this moment too well. The quiet. The darkness. The fear. Not sure of how to move forward.

You were scared too, but not of him - more like you were scared for him. You knew he must be going through something, and you wanted to be there to help, but you also knew that was easier said than done. “Being there to help” was a nice concept, but in reality - well things were generally more complicated. You didn’t know if it’d be alright to approach him, mainly because you were unsure of your role in all this. Were you really someone he wanted around when he was so obviously vulnerable? You’d never seen him so raw and exposed, like a wound you wished you could tend to, while also fearing that your interference could make things worse.

You knew he wasn’t going to ask for your help, you could see he wasn’t that kind of man, but maybe if you made the first step, and let him choose - maybe he’d let you in. So, you held out your hand and waited. After a moment, you saw him move, only slightly though. His eyes darted down towards your hand and he subtly lifted his fingers off the bed. But it only lasted a second. He froze again, hand hovering near yours, and that’s when you realized he had been reaching for you with his left hand. You had been wary to touch it before, you thought it was probably a sensitive subject. Something about the idea of touching his metal arm seemed more personal, if that was possible. Like only the most trusted people in his life might be allowed to… and maybe not even then.

You felt your own eyes drop to your lap, an almost nervous energy now emanating in the space between you. But just before you could drop your hand too, his fingers hesitantly entwine with yours.

You shot your eyes up to see his right hand grazing the palm of your left. As your gaze slowly elevated, you found your way to meet his own eyes, only to notice the very sudden change in them. Whatever fear or darkness hid their before had now melted away. You couldn’t place it, but whatever emotion he now held sent a chill from your core to your fingertips. A lump in your throat formed and for a moment, you thought you might never be able to breath again. The look in his eyes was almost soft, but with a hint of yearning. Fire was blazing through every nerve in your body, while a chill kissed your skin, making every hair stand on edge.

Feeling outrageously brave, you took your free hand up to his jaw and held him there, gently swiping your thumb over his cheek, and allowing your fingers to reach slightly past his hairline and to the back of his neck. You wondered if he could feel the raging storm of your emotions through your touch.

“You okay?” you managed to whisper to him.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before” his answer pierced your ears with a hard tone, refusing to let any vulnerability resonate in his voice.

You shake your head at him, wishing he wouldn’t play pretend. “Okay then,” you mumble, letting your hand drop from his face. But as it fell, Bucky was quick to grab it, and hold it with a gentle squeeze. When you looked at him again, you knew he meant it as a reassurance, trying to tell you that he was okay.

He couldn’t handle the way you looked at him. Like you could see every thought in his head. A knowing gleam in your eyes told him that you didn’t believe him, and you’d be right not to. He wasn’t okay. He never really was. There was so much darkness surrounding him, poisoning every inch of his life. But you. Your touch was gentle and your voice was kind, and even though he had just seen your scar, he couldn’t help but think your world must have been so much brighter than his own. Looking in your eyes, he almost wished he’d never met you. He was so afraid that his pain might infect you too, the only good thing he had left. He wouldn’t ever be able to forgive himself if he let that happen; if he let his past ruin your future.

He wanted to leave, he needed to get out, before any of that could happen.

He slid off the bed quickly, and made his way to grab his clothes, but before he could you grabbed his hand - his left hand.

“Please Bucky don’t.” was all you could say. But the way your voice broke, on the verge of tears, fear of being rejected, of being left alone in the dark by the only man you ever wanted to let in - it was enough to stop his heart. He stood there, frozen from your touch. You kept his hand in yours, and for a second you worried it was too much. You worried you betrayed whatever trust you had built with him. Just holding his bare metal hand felt more violating and revealing than the fact that both of you remained completely naked. But you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t want him to think you were afraid of him, afraid of the fact his hand could pulverize yours in a second - because you weren’t. You’d felt his touch. You knew how gentle and caring he could be. And you wanted him to see it too. That he wasn’t defined by his worst fears.

You pulled your body towards him, kneeling at the edge and facing him, “You don’t have to leave.” you spoke softly, as if he might be spooked and run off if you were any louder. “You don’t have to push everyone away. Please don’t push me away… I-”

Before you could finish, he was crashing into you. His tongue invading your mouth, like he was trying to soak up your unsaid words. His hands held your waist in place against his, steady and strong, but there was still resistance in his fingers; a hesitance to use too much force with you. You could feel how he feared he might hurt you.

Slowly you leaned back, feathering your fingers over his shoulders to guide him with you, and when he hovered over you, you let them slide into his hair, grabbing what you could and leading his head down…

~~~~

You lay there in the dark with your head on his chest, listening to his steady heart, feeling the crisp sting of metal graze your back. And even though you knew it was ridiculous, all you could think about was how you wanted to keep him safe. The man was stronger than any other human being, and probably thought you were fragile and helpless, and needed his protection more than anything. But still, you wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to know he could be safe.

“I’ll fight them for you.” you whimper quietly, suddenly worried that Bucky may have already fallen back to sleep.

“Huh? Who- what do you mean?” his words stuttered and tripped over his tongue. His half sleeping brain was suddenly running a mile a minute trying to decipher your statement. Who were you fighting? Why would you need to fight them for him? Surely he was more capable of fighting anyone off. He should be protecting you-

“The monsters” you said a little louder. The words feel childish and awkward in your mouth, and once you said them, you wished to take them back. But you decided to push forward, “if you want me to… if you need me… I’m here”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #fatws bucky #fatws #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #fanfic #post snap #marvel

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honeylikewords · 6 years

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hey can i request a peter maximoff x f!reader? where its during apocalypse and kinda follows their realtionship through it, from when he saves her from the x mansion. obviously im not expecting a long ass thing lol just small snippets or something! thank you!!!

hey anon? this is so darn cute, thank you SO much! (you phrased this so politely and i 100% adore and appreciate polite anons who are aware that i’m a busy gal :’) you’re a sweetie! also, thank you for specifying the pronouns and gender, that always helps!)

plus, i’ve been itching to write more peter stuff as of late to branch out a bit, so let’s try a few of these out! it’s been a hot minute since Apocalypse came out, though, so please be lenient if i forget some of the finer details of the plot!

(btw i know you said you weren’t expecting anything long but i got carried away! also, i know this deviates a little from what you probably had in mind, but i wanted to tie it in with my larger peter narrative!)

I think Peter would probably not have a girlfriend before or during the events of Apocalypse-- at least not in a conventional sense. He was pretty defeated and reclusive after Days of Future Past (aka “That One Time He Broke A Murderer Out Of Jail On A Dare And Said Murderer Nearly Assassinated The President And Destroyed The White House And Oh Also? That Murderer Is His Dad”) and kept to himself. A self-described ‘loser’, Peter just didn’t want to bother with people any more: he felt like he’d let everyone down.

That’s why I always imagined that if Peter was going to be in a relationship with someone, he’d have to know them as a close friend who has been in his life for a while. I think he’s prone to flighty crushes based on the way someone looks (he doesn’t ‘fall’ for them, but rather flirts with them until he gets bored), but he finds that, deep inside, what he really needs is someone to keep him in line, call him out on his bad behavior, and remind him of what really counts, and what really makes him a hero: protecting other people and doing his best for them.

So, I argue that Peter’s best friend would be the one who loves him and who he loves, but that they never clarified their emotions to one another, and then Peter became a recluse and shut-in after the incident with freeing Erik, so neither of them is aware of how the other feels. After all, Peter felt personally responsible and horrified to know that his actual, biological father was... that kind of person, so he was already an emotional mess just trying to sort out the fact that he is the son of a very dangerous, very unstable man. But at the same time, he was desperate to find Erik and know if his father knew about him, to understand him better, to see where he, himself, came from.

I imagine that Peter’s friend would try to talk him out of it on the basis that Erik is a clear and present danger to people and would probably not sympathize with Peter’s plight (”He blew up the White House, Peter!”). But, since Peter is such an obstinate, bull-headed young man, he pushed on, insisting that he could find something out about his father.

Maybe it’s because, deep down, Peter worries that he, himself, is the bad guy; he worries that this kind of violence, these kinds of mistakes, this failure, is bred into his bones. His mom’s a drinker, his dad’s a terrorist. One’s a little worse than the other, but it still bothers him to think that maybe he is the result of pure dysfunction. He needs to know if that bitter kind of blood runs in his veins, too, or if he can change his fate.

So, knowing that Peter is going to run headlong into danger like he always does, his friend comes along, citing that he’ll need someone to “yank him by the ear when he does some dumbshit stunt”, inevitably.

Peter ran from D.C. to the X-Mansion in the film, so if he brings his friend with, he’ll likely have to carry her (and take periodic breaks so she doesn’t get motion sick or whiplash), all the while trying not to let his hands wander too much, nor to let himself stare at her and watch as she clings to him and her hair bounces in the breeze his speeds creates. She looks so pretty as she blinks, her lashes kissing together... He then makes himself look away so he doesn’t build his hopes up too high.

I think Peter really severely considers himself a complete and total loser, fluke, failure, and mistake, so he doesn’t think someone as sensible, pretty, and kind as his friend could ever love him. He’s happy(ish) to just stay her friend if that means keeping her in his life. He just wants something constant, something familiar, something stable, and she brings that to him.

As they arrive at the X-Mansion, he feels something’s off, and the moment he looks at the place, he gets that itchy feeling all up and down his spine that says “something’s wrong”. He sets his friend down at a safe distance from the school and makes sure to slow down to her speed so she can see him as he says “I gotta go for a sec. You wait here.”

He tucks the Twinkie he’d picked up at the gas station during their last break into her hand and zips off to handle the explosion and save as many students (and dogs eating pizza) as he can. Once they’re safely removed, he returns to his beloved and stands between her and the explosion, wrapping her in a tight hug and tucking her in so that if any part of the blast rattles them, she’ll be safe in his arms. He slows down and the world returns to normal, his friend clinging to him.

“What did you DO?!,” she shrieks.

“I just saved everyone’s lives, that’s what!”

“You BLEW UP the SCHOOL?!”

“NO, someone else did that! I got everyone out! Jeez, someone’s not grateful to her hero, huh?”

But she pauses for a moment, cupping her hands on his cheeks and noticing he has a few smudges of dirt and soot from the burning air in the mansion. She strokes a thumb over the harsh line of his cheekbone, smearing the dust on his face. He grows very quiet as his heart runs even faster than normal, its beats shaming the fluttering of hummingbird wings.

“You’re a mess,” she murmurs. “Someone’s gotta look out for you, big hero.”

“That’s why I’ve got you,” he replies. “To look out for me.”

She nods and gently squeezes his face, and he can feel the tips of her fingers brush against the long ends of his silver hair, barely a ghost of a touch. He still shivers.

In the background, stones collapse and timbers creak, letting out almighty groans and snarls as the oxygen gets eaten up by ravenous flames. Peter shivers again, but for a different reason: there’s real destruction happening before him. Hundreds of people could be dead if he hadn’t intervened, and she could have been among that body count if he hadn’t been careful.

From there, Peter realizes the severity of the situation. It’s no longer fun and games, no longer hide-and-go-seek with an absentee father. It’s life or death stakes. And he doesn’t want her involved in any of this.

Peter intentionally hides her away before he makes his break to go find Erik, insisting that she stay clear of all of this. She tries to fight him and come with, but he grips her arms and looks deep into her eyes, a strange kind of gravity in his demeanor. Peter is normally never so serious, but as he looks at her and squeezes her, she knows, things are far from normal for him.

“I need you to stay here,” he stresses, emphatically shaking her. “You cannot get into this with me. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“Peter--”

“No. This is my problem. This is as far as I’m letting you go with me.”

“But--”

“I’m sorry, okay? Just... don’t miss me too much. I’ll always find a way back to, ya know, drive you crazy.”

He leans forward, and kisses her brow, quick and light. The gesture could almost be mistaken for something fratenal, had both their hearts not leapt and their eyes fixed on each other. His hand lingers on her a touch longer than it ought to for a platonic moment, and as he walks away, he casts another glance over his shoulder. She looks into his deep, dark brown eyes, and smiles at him nervously.

“Hey! You... you come back home to me, alright?”

Peter takes a deep breath and flashes her his biggest, toothiest smile.

“You bet your pretty little ass I’m gonna.”

She flips him off, laughing (though he notices her eyes remain tight with worry, and he blows a theatric kiss towards her, trying to seem goofy and playful despite the growing knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He wants her to feel relaxed, and to see him confident. After all, he thinks grimly, this may be the last time she sees him.

But he can’t imagine not seeing her again. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to think about her living a quiet life without his racket, without him there to bother her, to annoy her, to love her, whether silently or out in the open.

When he’s captured, Peter begins to despair and panic, though he masks it under his usual layers of humor and sarcasm. Though he’s quippy outside, inside, he’s riddled with worry. He might die here, in a metal cage, surrounded by freaks, and never get to tell the girl he loves that he cares about her.

He’s spent his whole life a few degrees removed, desperate to appear so aloof and carefree, but only now does he realize how much he wanted to say and do. He swears to himself that once he’s free, and once this is over, he’s going to tell the truth. He’s going to take her home and hug her tight and kiss her ‘til they both can’t breathe and he’s going to tell her, flat out, that he’s in love with her, come hell, high water, or the nuclear destruction of the earth.

From there, things progress as they must, and, eventually, Peter does come home. But he’s hobbling on a broken leg, covered in dirt and grime, looking exhausted and sweaty. His beloved runs up to him as the plane touches down, her hands spread as tears burst from her. He falls into her, gratefully and exhaustedly hugging her close. God, she feels so good, even as she weeps into his hair and runs her hands panickedly all across his back and torso, as if feeling for injuries.

“Oh, Peter, oh, god, baby, what happened?”

He’s in her arms and halfway ready to tell her, but pauses, resting his head on her shoulder tiredly as he smiles.

“Did you just call me ‘baby’, sweetie?”

“...Did you just call me ‘sweetie’?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second... baby.”

They lean on each other for a moment before they manage to stumble towards a place to sit down and rest Peter’s leg as the emergency response teams and paramedics appear to take care of the injured. Peter leans his head against her chest and closes his eyes, hearing her heartbeat. That pulse reminds him of the promise he made to himself.

He reaches out and takes her hand, intwining their fingers and squeezing her.

“Hey, babe, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“...I, uh, I was thinking about some, um, stuff. And I realized some stuff about myself and about what I care about and... I, you know, I didn’t end up telling Magnet-Head about... who I am. Because I think I realized that I don’t really need him. He’s not my family. He’s never been there for me, and I don’t need to keep chasing him to know where I’m supposed to be, you know?”

“...Peter, what are you saying?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath and nuzzles in closer, letting his tired eyes fall shut as he takes in the smell of her; smoke and ash and just the littlest hint of perfume. All her. Warm and present.

“I’m saying... the people who matter in your life aren’t always the ones who, you know, you share DNA with. Sometimes the most important people are the ones who have been there for a long time, and you realize you love them and you can’t live without them and-- oh, fuck it.”

He sits up, puts his hands on her cheeks, and looks into her eyes, smiling as sweetly as he can with all the butterflies coursing through his stomach.

“I love you. And you’re more a part of my family than that guy could ever be to me.”

“...Are you saying I’m like a sister to you?”

Peter pauses, then snorts, rolling his eyes. He lets out a playful, exasperated sigh, and presses his forehead to hers, his tired muscles groaning with relief to find solace in her.

“No. I mean that I love you. As in ‘I want to be around you forever’ love you. As in ‘you’re my best friend but even more than that’ love you. As in ‘can I kiss you’ love you.”

He gets his answer as she rubs her thumb on his small, chapped bottom lip, staring at it hungrily.

“Thought you’d never ask, you big jerk.”

In a pile of rubble, on an overcast day, with a broken leg, after the threat of nuclear armageddon, after the most taxing and painful battle of his life, Pietro Django Maximoff has his first kiss. Far from his house, far from the little world he used to inhabit, he finds his home, pressed into the lips of the girl he’s known and loved all along.

Peter swears, for years after, that the kiss healed his broken leg. She always bats his chest and tells him to check his facts and remember the full limb cast he was in for a month. Then he kisses her again and remarks that nothing could hurt him with her love in his heart, and they both laugh at the schmaltz and sweetness of the love they’ve built together.

#this got so LONG ghksfhklfdh #gif warning #messages #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #x men #marvel #Anonymous

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