#lyn2k

[wkemeup]

Honey and Chamomile

summary: Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: lots of fluff, but also nightmares, and lots of tea because im a fanatic a/n: this was written for @coffee-with-bucky​​‘s 2k writing challenge and it’s a thousand years late, but I hope you enjoy it! My prompt was 🌟 tea 🌟

It starts late in the evening as the thunder rolls in, low breaks amongst the clouds in the distance, a flicker of lightening touching the night sky and illuminating the shadows cast by the city. Painted raindrops slide against on the windowsill, racing one another to the edge of the pane. It’s soothing as you close your eyes and lose yourself in the soft tap-tap-tap to the walls of the tower and the hums of thunder miles beyond the city. It’s better than the silence, anyway.

The whistle of a kettle sings by the stove and it pulls you gently from your stance at the window. Mug in hand, you grab a bag of peppermint tea from the small box to the right of the kettle; paintings of sunsets and starry nights along the wooden frame. You close the lid and tug the string of the bag so it lays over the lip of the mug. Hot water finds its home at the center and the air around you fills of candy canes and memories of nights wrapped in blankets by the fireplace.

You hear footsteps behind you as you set the kettle back on the stovetop, careful of the bright red rings of the burner, and slowly wrap your hands around the mug. There’s a shuffle at the edge of the kitchen as the warmth of the mug touches your palms, soothes right up into your arms, the liquid too hot to drink but the steam of it is comforting against your cheeks. Crisp and cool amongst burning heat.

“Didn’t think you were home,” you say quietly, back turned to the figure who takes in a sharp breath in response.

The team was out on a mission, one Cap insisted you stay clear of after your near fatal gunshot wound in Bratislava last month. You fought it tooth and nail, but what Cap says goes, and well, you didn’t.

“Steve says I need more time,” Bucky replies, voice barely a whisper and you can practically picture the way he digs his hands into the pockets of his plaid pajama pants, scrunching at the fabric from the inside as a way to ground himself.

“Steve’s a little overprotective, don’t you think?” you chuckle lightly, turning from the window where the raindrops cast down along the glass in full, sweeping lines to find Bucky standing just beyond the plane of the kitchen. Just close enough to make his presence known, far enough to escape. Always one foot in, one foot at the exit. Self-preservation is a hell of a drug to kick.

“He’s right, though. Hard to trust a teammate who doesn’t trust his own mind,” Bucky mumbles slowly, scratching at the nape of his neck.

The shine of silver catches your eye under the dim overhead lighting and he notices it almost instantly, the way your gaze draws to solid metal, how you study the lines and bolts in his joints, and he drops his arm. He holds it then behind his back, tries to play it off casually, but you see how he hides it from view, like he’s been caught with something he shouldn’t have. A weapon.

You sigh, setting the mug down on the counter, the whisper of peppermint on your lips. He sells himself short, gets locked up in the mindset of what Hydra conditioned him to be, struggles to come back to himself and trust that he can control his own mind again. You know how often he wonders when he’ll lose it again, when he’ll break to someone else’s will and be forced to commit terrible acts again. It’s never a matter of ‘if’, but ‘when.’

He wonders when he’ll hurt Steve, or Sam, or Nat, or you. He wonders when the final straw will break and the floor will be ripped out from under him, when he’ll take a life he can’t give back. He wonders when enough will be enough and you’ll decide he’s not worth the trouble.

“I trust you,” you say, and you do mean it, but Bucky only shrugs, eyes downcast.

He shuffles he feet again. It’s uncomfortable for him to hear, you realize. It's foreign in his body and he barely recognizes the kindness in it when he feels it, the certainty of it, because it has been so long since he knew anything but cruelty and manipulation.

So, you pull a second mug from the cabinet; the one behind the Captain America logo painted on the side and Tony’s Disney themed mug that reads ‘Greatest Place on Earth 2003’ down the handle. You grab onto the edge of the mug tucked far into the back; light blue in color, soft undertones along the bottom. It’s painted like the waves of the ocean. It reminds you of him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you grab a second teabag from your wooden box and drop it in the mug, or as you fill the cup with the steaming water. You set it at the edge of the counter, eyeing him carefully as he remains still in his stance. One foot in, one foot at the exit.

“There’s sugar and milk if you want some,” you offer but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, no, this is just fine,” he says, voice a little uneven, almost as if he’s surprised by the gesture.

He steps forward, out of the shadows of the hallway and lets the soft lights of the lamp at the couch’s end touch his skin. They illuminate over messy hair, a few strands out of place, creases in his cheeks from pillow cases, the way he sways side to side in his stance. Nervous energy for a man with precision behind a barrel unlike anyone you’d ever seen.

He takes the mug, testing the heat of the surface, before he pulls it between his hands. You busy yourself with your own tea, taking a sip as you watch him bring it the mug to his lips. He pauses, smelling the hot water and you’re almost certain you see his cheek twitch. Ever so slightly, gone in an instant, but a remnant of a smile remains.

“I’ll be at the gym by nine tomorrow morning if you want to join me,” you say as you head towards the hallway. “I’ve seen your left hook and I could use some help on my stance.”

Bucky swallows back scalding hot tea like it’s nothing, his shoulders pushing up by his ears, startled by your request and it makes you laugh a bit. He chokes out a short nod, flustered perhaps judging by the pink in his cheeks. 

You smile back at him, pausing at the doorframe to look at him one last time as he leans against the kitchen sink.

The smell of peppermint lingers in your wake.

***

You sit on the couch in the living room with your feet kicked up on the ottoman, book resting in your lap and a warm cup of tea nestled in your right hand. Its leans onto your chest as the steam of a sweet, woody scent of green tea filters through the air. 

Fresh off of a month-long surveillance mission in Chechnya, your body is sore from long nights in cramped cars and your mind a little disengaged from hours staring out at a single window through the short end of binoculars.

Natasha sits quietly at the kitchen table behind you, flipping through the files spread out amongst the surface in organized chaos. The soft hum of a playlist on the overhead speakers drown out the grunts of Steve and Sam sparring down the hall in the training room.

You smile as you hear the shuffle of footsteps at the edge of the room, feet dragging purposefully along the tile. You don’t have to look up to know who is it, but you do wonder when Bucky decided to start dragging his feet to alert you to his presence.

He used to be impossibly quiet in his steps, like he was hunting prey even with his defenses down as much as he would allow them. He's snuck up on you a few times before without meaning to, his voice in greeting startling you enough to drop a mug of scalding tea from your hands and onto your exposed thighs and the tile below. If you think hard enough about it, you’d realize it was that moment, as he scrambled to dry your skin of the hot water, frantic apologies under his breath, as he knelt into the broken shards of your mug, that his steps became louder when he approached.

He hasn’t been able to sneak up on you since.

“Hey,” he says quietly from the edge of the room.

You smile to yourself, eyes still on the lines of the novel though you haven’t looked up at him yet. “Hey.”

“Smells good.”

You nod, taking in a heavy whiff of the steeping tea. “Wanna try?”

Bucky sits down on the couch beside you, a full cushion as a barrier between, but you don’t mind. He’s slow to warm up, cautious with even the people he trusts most, and you have no interest in pushing him beyond his boundaries. He sits rigid on the couch, stiff, though you can tell he’s trying to relax. He's fighting with his muscles and arguing with his mind.

“Here,” you offer, extending the mug to him.

He stares at you, blue eyes flickering from the tea and back to your face suspiciously.

“I haven’t poisoned it, Bucky,” you tease, pulling it back to your lips and taking a sip in proof. You sigh as it passed down your chest, warming you from the inside. It doesn’t slip your notice that Bucky’s eyes linger on your lips long after you’ve extended the mug back to him.

“If it’s a germ thing, I can make you a fresh cup,” you offer, laughing a bit under your breath.

“No, uh, thank you,” Bucky musters out and slowly takes the mug from your hands.

You nod and quickly return to your book, though you keep an eye on him in the reflection of the television screen. He studies the mug for a moment, looking over the slightly uneven edges of the ceramic, the speckles of golden flakes mixed amongst the brush strokes.

“Did you make this?”

“Steeped it myself,” you chuckle. “Strenuous work.”

Bucky laughs at that, though it’s muffled a bit, restricted, but it’s still there, still light and airy and incredibly beautiful.

“The mug,” he clarifies as he holds it up. “Did you make the mug?”

“Hey, even an Avenger need a hobby, right?” you shrug, albeit a little embarrassed. The walls of the mug are uneven, the painting done under dim lighting after hours as the little ceramics shop would have been swarmed with fans if not for the kindness of the owner who let you stay late into the evening. “I know it’s not very good--”

“I like it.”

Bucky smiles softly as he nods at you, examining the mug further. He traces over the handle that’s slightly too small for his grip, the edges that sway up and down like waves, the dot of red paint at the bottom that accidentally made its way onto the surface.

He takes a sip and you watch as his whole body seems to sigh in response. Muscles easing, tension leaving him. It’s a respite.

When he hands the mug back to you, you expect him to leave. He doesn’t. Instead, he stays quietly with you, sitting contently as he picks up a newspaper from the end table and you resume your place in your book. Perfectly quiet. Comfortable.

***

“Will you just take the medicine... please?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky, I can fight off the common cold.”

“You can barely breathe on your own. I might call for an ambulance. It's starting to look dire. Life or death kind of situation.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, swatting his hands away as you quickly move to cover your mouth as another coughing fit takes over. It burns deep into your lungs, aches hard in your chest, makes it quite hard to catch your breath again, but you feel a soft touch on your back; gentle, soothing circles of a flat hand pressed to your spine, and you manage to find air again.

You wipe your lips as he pulls back. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” he says with a soft smile, waving you off.

“I could get you sick. You should’ve had me quarantined like everyone else.”

“Aren’t you dramatic today?” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I can't get sick with this serum running in my veins, you know that. Besides, no one’s quarantining you. They’re just--”

“--avoiding me like the plague?”

Bucky grimaces. “Yeah, maybe.”

You smile tiredly at him, heat a little fuzzy, vision a little tunneled, but you enjoy the way he smiles back at you. He has such a nice smile, pretty, to the point where it’s almost unfair. It curves up into his cheeks, creating lines around and under his eyes, bright and cheery and you almost forget he’s also a ghost story of an assassin with the sharpshooting range more precise than a drone.

Before you can realize what you’re doing, under the haze of a clouded mind, your hand reaches out and touches his cheek. He freezes under your touch, surprised more than anything else, and he watches with wide eyes as you dreamily trace the lines in his face, the curve of his jaw and the tip of his nose. Your head feels a little fuzzy and your eye lids flutter heavily, just as Bucky begins to smile again.

“Take the meds, doll,” Bucky asks again sweetly. He slowly pries your hand from his face and sets two red pills in your left hand, a glass of water in your right. He guides your hand with the medication up towards your mouth. “Please? I miss my training partner. Can’t spare with someone who’s half dead in the living room from a stuffy nose and I refuse to go back to Wilson.”

“Okay, okay,” you grumble playfully, quickly swallowing the medication and chasing it with the water.

The couch dips slightly as Bucky gets up, jogging over to the kitchen. The whistle of the kettle is muffled in your ears, like it’s distant and behind several walls and closed doors. You stretch your jaw, trying to pop away the barrier, but it’s of no use.

You watch silently as Bucky scrambles around the kitchen, a little flustered for his frame, and you can’t help the smile that pushes at your cheeks.

“Top right,” you tell him, pointing to the cabinet over his shoulder.

He sighs, shakes his head, and sure enough, the mugs are in the cabinet on his right. He pulls down two from the shelf. For you, the one with the tiny cartoon dinosaur on the front dressed in an Iron Man suit, and for himself, he grabs the one you made months prior, with the uneven edges and the red paint stain on the side.

Then, he starts in search of the wooden box and you give him a minute of pulling open every drawer he can find until you tell him, “behind the bread bin on the counter.”

"Oh, of course. Makes perfect sense,” Bucky teases and flips through the packets inside.

He purses his lips, narrowing his eyes, clearly in search of something specific. His whole face lights up as he grabs what he’s in search of and quickly rips open the packets and sets them inside the mugs. He pours the hot water and carefully blows on the surface of the mugs, the steam pushing out in front of him as he sighs.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he says as he makes his way back to you, setting the mug on the arm rest of the couch to give you enough leverage to grab the handle. You smile up at him appreciatively as he takes his seat next to you.

Bringing the mug to your lips, you take in a deep breath – or, as much as you able to give the swarm of congestion in your head.

Spiced and warm. Peppery sharp. Lemon and ginger.

“Bucky Barnes, did you use google for me?”

He chuckles nervously as his hand rakes through his hair, pushing it from his eyes only for it to fall back to place again. “It, uh, it said ginger tea is supposed to be good for you when you’re sick, so I thought, uh, it thought it would help.”

You struggle to contain your grin, hiding it behind the mug as you take a sip. You can already feel your sinuses beginning to clear.

“That’s very sweet of you. Thanks, Buck.”

He nods a little sheepishly, fluster burning warm in his cheeks, but he meets your eyes; the perfect wave of blues and greys, a gentle ocean amongst a sweeping current.

***

When you wake with a harsh gasp in your throat, a sharp yank of reality away from your dreams, the piercing sound of screams echoing down the hall, it’s not the first time.

You know the routine well by now, know that Steve will meet you in the hallway by Bucky's door where the screams only seem to get louder with every passing second and he’ll ask you gently to go back to your room, remind you that he’s got this and Bucky will be alright. He always is, Steve tells you, but it doesn’t lessen the heartbreak of hearing the cracks in Bucky’s voice, the sudden whimpers, the shattering silence that follows as he wakes.

The two of you will skirt around things in the morning as you always do. Bucky will stumble out of his room with dark circles under his eyes, a drag in his feet, shoulders slumped as he slides into a chair by the kitchen. He’ll sit silently as you pour him an herbal tea from your box, never something with caffeine because he’s got enough energy in his veins as they come out in tremors in his hand and bouncing in his knee. Sometimes you give him raspberry, sometimes apple caramel, sometimes peach, and he’ll nod without looking at you, pull the mug close to his face and hold the steam to his lips until it goes cold.

Those mornings frighten you because it takes him back to Bucky you knew in the beginning, before he’d learned to smile and laugh again, before he became a permanent fixture in your life, one you were unwilling to live without.

So as your feet carry you down the hall, skirting around the corner and chasing after the screams, you realize Steve won’t be there waiting. He’s out on a mission with Sam in Ukraine for the next few days. There’s no one else on this floor. It’s just you.

You, Bucky, and the monsters in his dreams.

You freeze at the edge of his door, hand gripped tight to the handle, but you can’t move. 

You’re made of marble and stone because even though you and Bucky had come miles since he first came to the tower, you’ve never seen him like this; scared, begging to invisible forces, voice breaking, crying. You haven’t seen him at his lowest and you don’t know if he’ll resent you opening this door, if he’ll be angry with you for breaking that wall of trust, for intruding on something so vulnerable he doesn’t share with anyone but Steve.

But when a scream leaves his lips again, one so broken and distorted it jars itself straight through to your heart like the serrated edge of a blade, you shove your way inside, pushing consequences to the morning.

Bucky lays amongst a mess of sheets, damp with sweat as his hands curl into the fabric, teeth gritted, chest heavy with labored breaths. His eyes are closed shut, painfully so, and you try to ignore the drip of sweat down his exposed chest, how it falls along the lines of his muscles, because he’s thrashing in his sleep like something is holding him down, chocking him, and there’s tears in your eyes as you rush forward.

“Bucky,” you call far too gently. “Bucky, wake up.”

You don’t know what to do. Steve is the one who usually wakes him and you don’t have the kind of strength he does. You don’t know what laying a hand to Bucky’s shoulder will do, if the touch will ground him or shock him to a dream like state, pull him from his nightmares or throw him back to the clutches of the soldier.

But you have to try.

You can’t listen to him beg through bated breaths, “stop, stop please-- don’t! Please, someone help--”

“I’ve got you,” you say a little louder. “You’re okay, Buck. You’re not alone. You’re safe, alright? But you’ve gotta wake up now. Please, Bucky. Wake up.”

You set a hand on his forearm and he jolts up in an instant. You stumble back a few paces in shock, heart beating like thunder in your chest as you hit the sharp edge of his dress to your spine. Hands clutched tight to your chest, afraid you might have to fight him to bring him back, but Bucky remains still. He’s panting, chest heaving as hair falls down into his eyes.

You decide to test the waters.

“Bucky?”

He flinches violently, a sharp intake of breath, though he doesn’t turn to look at you. His hands dig deeper into the sheets in search of a respite he will not find and it nearly breaks your heart in two.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice rough and used. He can’t bear to look at you. “I thought it was under control. I—I told Steve it was okay for him to go. You shouldn’t-- You shouldn’t have to--”

“Do you want some tea?”

The words tumble out faster than you can process them. It feels like the wrong thing to say, especially with that look on his face, the guilt and shame seeping through beautifully soft and kind features, but you know his heart is racing a hundred miles a minute. Judging by the tension in his back, he’s stiff as a board, too.

You step forward as he slowly turns to look at you. There's confusion mixed in with the undeserving shame, but it’s a start at least, you think. A couple cautious more steps closer to the bed and you’re standing right next to him, hovering above him as he bends his legs and wipes his brow of sweat with the edge of the sheet.

“It usually helps me calm down at night,” you offer slowly, as gently as you can manage. “I, uh, I get nightmares, too, sometimes. Not quite as loud as yours but...”

Bucky nods in understanding. He’s heard you pacing in your room in the dead of night when sleep evades him as it often does. He’s seen when you trudge out from your room in the early hours of the morning with the kind of look in your eye that reminds him too much of himself.

“It’ll only take a second,” you say, nodding to yourself as you try to calculate the time it would take to boil the water and ready the mugs. “I’ll be right back.”

You move to take a step back but there’s a tug on your wrist. You pause, glancing down to find Bucky’s hand circling at your arm, holding you steady, though his stare remains glued to the sheets.

“Don’t go.” 

It comes out in a whimper, a low break in his voice, and your heart plummets down to your stomach.

“I’ll come right back. I promise,” you ease him, stepping closer again, though you notice he doesn’t release your hand. It’s not painful, but it’s firm. He’s holding on for dear life.

“Please,” he whispers and this time, as he looks up with you, you’re met with tears in the blue of his eyes. It cracks your resolve in an instant.

“Okay. Will you come with me?”

Bucky swallows thickly, holding your gaze for a moment before he eventually nods. The sheets are thrown from his legs and you realize he sleeps only in his boxers. The realization seems to hit him just as quick.

“S-sorry,” he mumbles, “just, um, just let me--”

You step back as he releases your hand and slowly stands at the edge of the bed. He grabs his pajama pants from the floor and quickly step into them with a heated blush on his cheeks. It makes you painfully aware of the mess of an old, ratted t-shirt and shorts you sleep in, though you push it aside quickly because Bucky’s eyes have fallen to the ground and you don’t want him to retreat within himself. Not again.

“Come on.”

You extend your hand for him, waiting patiently as he stares at it for a moment. It’s an intimate gesture, more contact than you’ve had with him, but you know despite his aversion to touch, he craves it unlike anything else. He’s vulnerable right now and you hope he’ll take the anchor as you throw it to him.

When his hand does mold to yours, it fits perfectly, exactly where he’s supposed to be and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever let you do this again. You squeeze his hand softly as he finds an even pace at your side and you lead him to the kitchen.

He lets go of your hand to give you enough space to prepare the water, but he’s never far from reach. When you glance back at him, you find a strange mixture of fear and something you can't quite place in his eyes. It isn’t until you catch him surveying the room, the adjoining hallways, the flinches at the slightest settling of the tower, that you realize he’s on guard. It’s like he’s protecting you.

“Take a seat, Buck,” you ask of him gently, nodding to the chair at the kitchen table. “Try and relax for me. Deep breaths, okay?”

He follows your gaze, hesitantly glancing over the area, always on alert, before he turns back to you. There’s a resistance in his movement as he takes his first steps away from you, but he holds your gaze, holds the softness of your smile as long as he can, while he slumps down into the chair. It’s too far away from you, but he manages.

The kettle boils quickly and you slip two bags of tea into the mugs. Hot water in next, you drizzle an ounce of thick amber on top, swirling it around with the heal of a spoon. The smell of earthy apples and sweet nectar.

Honey and chamomile.

When you make your way over to the table to join him, Bucky is slouched down in his seat, dark circles heavy under his eyes, though he forces out a strained smile as you slide in next to him. You drag a chair up as close to his as you can, your shoulders bumping somewhat as you set the mug in front of him.

“Drink,” you tell him. “It will help you fall back asleep.”

“I can’t go back to sleep after that. I never do after... you know,” he mumbles, shaking his head, though he does take in a heavy inhale of the sweet aroma of steam.

“You’re telling me my teas won’t cure all of life’s problems?” you scoff playfully. “Blasphemy.”

It steals a smile from his lips, curving up ever so slightly into his cheeks though you can see his body fighting against it. You set a hand on his forearm, one that comes in comfort by stark contrast of the way he used to flinch out of your touch. With a slight squeeze, you draw his attention back to you, the blue of his eyes overcast into deep navy, lids falling heavy with sleep despite the race of his heart.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just let me help you, alright? Drink the tea, Bucky. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

He nods, a slight ghost of a laugh in his exhale. “Okay.”

You smile triumphantly as you pull your own mug to your hands, warmth spreading into your palms and you take a sip. It stings on your tongue a bit, too hot, but it feels nice as it travels down into your chest, warms you from the inside out.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the only sounds between you coming from the muffled purr of the furnace and the contented sighs as the tea touches your lips. Bucky’s shoulders start to relax as he his mug nears empty, his body swaying in his seat and you can practically see the exhaustion nestled in his bones.

You swig back the last sip in your own mug and set it on the table, a task you’ll deal with in the morning as you slowly push Bucky’s mug out of his reach.

“Come on, Buck. Let’s get you back to bed.”

He comes easily as you offer your hand, guiding him away from the sanctuary of the kitchen and back to the room that holds his monsters. The grip on your hand tightens with every step and you rub your free hand down his forearm soothingly, trying to pull the tension away. You can feel the anxiety rushing through his veins, the panic reemerging back to the surface as you cross the threshold into his room.

You know he won’t ask. He won’t dare because he can so often get wrapped up in his own mind, the chamber of burden and isolation, of guilt and shame, and he often forgets how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him.

So, you don’t say a word as you lead him slowly to the bed, releasing his hand as he slides back under the covers. His body is rigid as ice and you can feel his eyes on you, trying to memorize your face for when the darkness takes over and he prepares for you to leave.

It surprises him when your hand slips over his forehead, brushes up into his hair, and you lean down to kiss his temple. The gasp that it pulls from him is muffled, impossibly sweet, and you linger there a moment longer before you pull away.

Bucky stays silent though you can see the question burning behind the blue of his eyes.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

There isn’t an ounce of hesitancy as you slowly make your way around to the other side of the bed and pull back the covers. The mattress is firmer on this side in its lack of use as your knee dips onto the surface. Bucky is watching you cautiously, stunned, but his muscles start to relax as you settle in next to him.

“This okay?” you ask, just to be sure.

He nods quickly. “Y-yes.”

“Try to get some sleep, alright? I’ll be right here.”

He doesn't say anything, but there’s relief slipping through the tension in his body, pushing out the stones with the gentle flow of a calming stream. You smile at him as you turn onto your side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder, grounding him to the earth, to you.

You close your eyes and hope that he will feel safe enough to follow.

***

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” Your voice is muffled by the pillow and you turn to find stars still littering the night sky. You don’t know how much time has passed, how long he’s been lying there in the prolonged silence, churning thoughts racing through his mind, so you turn onto your stomach, prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“You wanna go to the tea shop in Brooklyn with me tomorrow?”

You narrow your eyes, confused why he’s asking you near – you check the clock by his bedside – three in the morning. His stare is trained up at the ceiling for a moment before he turns to look at you, ocean blue littered with nerves, a new kind of vulnerability you haven’t seen in him before.

“Of course, Buck. Whatever you--”

“As a date, I mean.”

It catches you off guard, wakes you quickly. Tongue tied and throat dry.

Bucky swallows nervously and you can tell that he’s been working himself up to asking you in the hour or so that he’s been lying here awake as you curled up next to him. There are dozens of excuses brewing in the back of his mind, ways to play this off as a joke or anything but what he wants it to be in a way to preserve the friendship between you, but before he can start the waterfall of backtracking, a smile curves up along your lips.

“That sounds really nice.”

He smiles back at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” He nods to himself, settling back into the mattress with the widest grin you’d seen on him in ages. It wrinkles up into his eyes, brightens across his face bright and cheery, sits in startling contrast to the way you’d found him just hours before. You like seeing him this happy. You like being the cause of it even more.

“Will you go to sleep now?” you tease him, nudging at his shoulder enough to pull a laugh from his chest.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. Don’t want you half asleep on our date.” It twists pleasantly in your stomach as you say it, butterflies and goosebumps and you bite back the smile pushing high up into your cheeks.

“Can’t have that,” he replies, chuckling to himself and it doesn’t slip your notice how his smile seems to widen as you say the word, too. Date.

You slide back down onto the mattress, trying to find your comfortable position again when Bucky extends his arm. There’s a short pause as he waits, staring up at the ceiling, and you realize what he’s offering. Without a second thought, like you’re coming home, you scoot your body closer to him, rest your head on his shoulder as his arm curls around your back, holding you securely against him.

The soft thumping of his heart beats gently under your ear, your hand resting against his ribs, tracing lines that leave shivers in their wake. He traces patterns onto your back, his eyes slowly fluttering shut until the movement stops and he falls into the warm embrace of sleep.

You sigh, content in his even breaths, the slow pace of his heart, the muffles snores. Hugging him close, holding him in your arms where he’s always belonged. You fall asleep wrapped in the scent of honey and chamomile.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #lyn2k

[kashimos-hajime]

scorched | s.r. + b.b.

summary: “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, violence, a post-endgame rant wrapped up as a fic pairing: steve x fem!reader, bucky x fem!reader word count: 7.3k

a/n: inspired by praying by kesha. written for @coffee-with-bucky​​ and her 2k challenge! congrats lyn :) my prompt was “i failed you. i failed everyone.”and i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t inspired by @heli0s-writes​​ and her series “as it was”. check her out! she’s one of my favourite writers on this site!

“She’s not at the compound,” Sam says, not at all surprised to see him and almost resentful, defensive. His phone is still in hand, screen alit from the text Steve sent him a few minutes ago. Everything he left behind is still here by the lake.

Almost everything.

It’s a ghost town.

“But she doesn’t want to see you anyway.”

“Sam—”

“Five hours for you was five, very long years for us,” he continues, but his tone softens when he catches sight of Steve’s face. Absolutely crushed, eyebrows weighed down, shoulders hunched forward, defeated. “She’s different, now. She’s not the woman you left.”

The mere mention of you makes Steve’s heart, already choked with dread, crack.

“And you shouldn’t go, man. It wouldn’t be good for her after all this time.”

Before, maybe Sam would’ve thought of Steve first, but there’s a distance, a yawning gap standing between them now. Sam was here for the bitter consequences of his departure—Steve wasn’t, and he knows they must’ve been shattering, terrifying, because by the way Sam is so cold about it, he doesn’t want to remember it.

“I made a mistake, Sam. I can’t let her go on thinking I don’t regret what I did.” He looks out at the lake where he passed the shield and mantle and responsibilities on to the man before him before he left, and the sun hits the lake so clearly that his breath nearly catches. You loved swimming, propelling circles around him in the blue-green pool at the compound, splashing it into his eyes. Laughing and laughing and laughing because you’re so limber on land but here you’re definitely a fish out of water.

Funny, funny, funny.

“She won’t care.”

“She has to.”

“Look, man. I’m trying to save you some pain.” Sam puts a hand out, hovering before his chest as if he stopped himself, as if he doesn’t even want to touch Steve, and the blond swallows the painful little knot in his throat. “It’s too late, and I know you want to think better late than never, but she’s changed. Things have changed.”

“That won’t stop me from trying,” Steve murmurs, walking around Sam to where a car is parked. His car. The damned car he drove to Tony’s funeral. He’s sure the keys are still in the cupholder beside your old coffee cup. He wonders who drove you home.

Sam? Bucky?

Who held a body with a heart that was tearing apart while he was chasing some fruitless daydream?

“Dude, the woman you knew is gone,” Sam calls, but Steve doesn’t listen. “You need to leave.”

“No, Sam. We made a promise to wait for each other.”

Okay, clause one: we wait for each other no matter what. Clause two: no matter what happens, we promise to work everything out. Clause three: this love is forever. Sign here.

I can’t believe you’re making me sign a fake contract for something we know won’t change, doll.

It’s a real contract because I wrote it, and it’s just for fun, anyway. I would never love anyone else besides you.

“That doesn’t matter. She’s fucking Barnes anyway.”

That stops him in his tracks. Blood freezing over in his body, he turns to look at Sam in his leather jacket and washed jeans, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes are impassive, severe, and dark with blunt honesty.

“Look, they’re happy. So can you just… leave? Go back to the forties. Settle down anywhere but here, because she is happy and so is he. Do you know how long it took for them to even think about trying to move past you?”

“Wait—” The word comes out ripped, hoarse, and he feels the blood drain from his legs as he takes a step back—

“You should just go.”

For a moment, Steve’s eyes, wide and impossibly guilty, shine with tears. At the thought of you with some other man—somehow the possibility never crossed his mind. In his mind, you are the girl who shelters underneath his arm when it thunders, who tucks her face into his chest when the movie is too scary, who peppers his faces with kisses and makes him lemonade after a good training session, who puts flower crowns on his head when they spend a weekend outside the city and makes apple pies so fulfilling he could cry, who would never love another man because you are so wholly, helplessly, in love with him.

And he left you anyway.

So he nods, because he deserves this.

He deserves this, and he leaves.

.

The wind is warm against his cheeks as he tries to think how he ended up here in Puerto Vallarta, although he does know. Sam dropped him off here with a mission that’ll hopefully lead to another, and you can build a new life for yourself, Steve. One without her in it. If you need something, you know you can call me.

An arms deal. He got a tipoff from one of his CIs that it’s happening tonight by the docks, because he needs his own resources now. There is no Ross, no Tony, no Natasha, no one on his side.

His body yearns for a fight, and he gets it when he hears a soft voice down the docks, speaking in British English, just barely over the lap of the ocean. Crouching behind a metal freight container, he tries to distinguish the voices. At least three bodies, all armed, and his target. One of the biggest arms dealers in Britain down here to make a deal.

Steve, darting out from his cover and to the fire escape by the warehouse, catches a glimpse of the silhouettes of the men waiting. Their shadows are long against the concrete of the dock. The metal clangs underneath his boots as he slowly climbs the steps.

“Where is this woman?” the first man asks roughly, impatience laced through his tone as Steve pulls himself onto the roof. Feet pattering over the metal roof of the warehouse, he keeps himself crouched as the warm, golden sunlight filters through the oily heat. He’s sweating through the kevlar suit he’s got strapped on, and droplets beads around his forehead as he adjusts the shield gauntlets along his wrists.

“She said seven, sir.”

“Tardiness,” the man tsks. “We should’ve known better than to deal with the likes of her. What did I say?”

“That you shouldn’t trust an American, sir.”

“Precisely.” Leaning over the roof, Steve spots the man in question speaking, his suit glowing from the lamplight he stands beneath and he grips the edge of the roof, frowning. The buyer and the seller in one foul swoop. A car door slams and he blinks, tearing his eyes away from his count of at least twelve men, three standing around crates and the other around the man complaining.

A woman steps out of the car, pocketing her phone as she walks towards the illuminated circle, and he frowns, narrowing his eyes. Her face is covered by hair that sways with her every step, but her figure is outlined by the fit of her pantsuit. Even through the clothes, he can see the curve of muscle, the purpose in her step.

A dangerous woman.

“Sorry for the hold up,” she calls out, her voice smooth, rich with confidence. Steve frowns as she stops just outside the circle of light, her silhouette illuminated by warm, rusty orange and cloaked in shadow. “You wouldn’t believe the legalities surrounding contraband in America,” she continues teasingly. “Let me see.”

The man jerks his head to one of his henchman by the crates who cracks it open revealing sleek black rifles, laser sights, silver canisters with a bar along the sides: EMPs, grenades of all kinds. “Is it to your satisfaction?”

“It is. I’m docked in bay four. My men will meet yours there,” she says and head honcho nods. It’s a sign for the three men to pick up one crate each and begin their slow trail up the docks. The crates are massive things, hard black metal that softly rattles with every sway and Steve’s ears prick as the woman steps closer, her heels sharp against concrete.

“I assume this concludes our business, ma’am. It has been a profitable few months. I hope you find your new treasures… helpful in your endeavors.”

“Oh, I’d love to keep communications open. You’ve been a wonderful seller, and as you know, I pay handsomely for quality goods.” Despite his previous irritation, the boss seems to straighten, smiling almost as the men around look at each other. Money. It all comes down to money.

“Of course. My London warehouse, as you know, is open to you should you find yourself across the sea.”

“Perfect. Pleasure doing business with you.” It is then that she steps into the light, and Steve’s eyes narrow at the glint of metal on her ears and in her hair as she reaches forward to shake the man’s hand.

And twist it behind his back, using him as a body shield between her and his henchmen. Her other hand goes to her head, pulling out the pin and digging it gently into the man’s throbbing vein at his neck. It sits comfortably in her palm, almost as if it is molded for her and Steve’s muscles tense, blood rushing to his fingertips.

“Shoot her, now.”

“Watch it, Fitz,” hisses the woman, voice low. She digs the tip of the pin deeper. In the washed lamplight, Steve can see the curve of the blade, the hoop her finger slots into. A throwing knife. “I want you out of this situation alive.”

The knife trails down his body to his thigh and she wraps her fingers tighter around the handle.

Schluck.

The man’s scream rings in Steve’s ears as she tosses the man aside, diving to a stack of wooden crates. Wood and stone splinters beneath the force of bullets following at her heels but she simply unclasps one of her earrings, presses a button and throws it over the crates.

There’s a moment of silence as the men stare at the device at their feet before there is an explosion of smoke. He watches as the woman vaults over the crates and sprints into the cloud and Steve leaps off the roof, pumping his arms to activate his shield gauntlets.

The first man he comes into contact with lets out a startled scream as Steve punches his lights out and his blood is singing. Smoke burns at his eyes and thickens in his lungs as he whirls around, spotting a shadow of a man and he runs toward him, sweeping out a leg to take him down before slamming his knuckles into his nose until he’s knocked out cold and there’s a painful grunt behind him, the resounding collapse of a body that has no intention of getting up again.

Bullets whiz past his face, slamming into concrete and flesh as something rushes past him and he grabs the charging man, swinging his whole body weight into his arms and bringing them both crashing into the ground. The smell of sweat leaks into his mouth as he shoves the curve of his shield into the henchman’s stomach. Once. Twice. Thrice.

The man is rolled over, eyes scrunched tight, when Steve gets off of him.

Eyes straining through the smoke, he watches as a shadow charges at two figures, latching onto the first man and striking the geezer behind him with a power kick to the chest with both legs. The second man stumbles back just as the shadow swings her legs back and brings the first man down to the ground.

Natasha.

That was something he’d seen Natasha practice a hundred times over.

The thought makes his blood run cold and he pauses for a moment, the smoke beginning to thin out as she rolls over the first man and takes down the second with two punches to the gut and a knee to the nose. 

Natasha.

This can’t be real. No. Natasha is dead.

Unless they brought her back.

No, Sam would’ve told him, wouldn’t he?

He’s not sure anymore. 

His throat cinches shut at the thought of the redhead, of the woman who’d been by his side for years, who encouraged him to fall in love with you. Maybe it’s Natasha’s ghost haunting him, taunting him with some lookalike spy, reminding him of his mistake, and he feels himself paralyzed. The memories, the smile of hers before they went back in time— He’d felt so exhausted at the responsibility of it all, the five years of his failure weighing down between his shoulders. It all rushes back to him: your wobbling lips, brave face on his brave girl, fingers digging into his suit, ordering him to come home safe, Natasha’s coy little smile.

See you in a minute.

Strong legs wrap around his abdomen and he lets out a grunt, yanked out of his dazed state as he wrenches the attacker off his back. The woman falls with smack but her fingers dig into his wrists. Her legs wrap around his arm, dragging him down with her.

Steve pitches forward, tumbling forward as she slams his hand into the concrete. His skull collides with the ground and he squeezes his eyes tight, pain blooming from the back of his head. A sharp knee digs into his other elbow and he sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering open to a blurry face.

“No.” The word comes out choked and he blinks against the streetlight, eyebrows furrowing together and the weight vanishes off of him. “It can’t be.” Sitting up, he feels his head swim in a dull ache, world tilting as the woman takes a step away from him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The words ring in his ears, cold, wretched, and he jerks his head up to see your face drained of blood, lips parted, eyes wide. Your shoulders are shaking, chest heaving for air and it rattles in your lungs. Steve can hear your heart pounding, your throat swallowing nothing but wet air.

“Y/N—” He soaks in your figure, the muscle, the confidence, the sharp lines where everything had been soft. You don’t even look too different—you just feel different. He used to sink into your arms thinking of golden sunlight and soft pillows. Now, when he looks at you, he thinks of serrated edges, ironwire bones. You’ve lost your heels in the fight, but you look taller than he’s ever seen you. “You’re… it’s you.”

“Steve.” For a moment, your voice is choked up and your expression softens as you scan his face, but then you tear your eyes away. Your hair is chopped shorter for practicality, just barely past your shoulders. It suits you. Suits the girl he loves, the girl he doesn’t know anymore. “Steve.”

“Are you hurt?” He reaches for you but you shrink back like he’s burned you. This isn’t who you are. You’ve never been a fighter, yet here you stand, pantsuit a bit scuffed but otherwise untouched, and his stomach twists into a Gordian knot. This is what Sam was warning him about. The snake in the garden come to life. “What are you doing here? You could’ve gotten hurt, doll—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t have that right anymore,” you spit, voice pure poison. He pushes himself to his feet just as something makes you pause and your eyebrows knit together, raising your left wrist where a watch is strapped on. His head is spinning from his skull cracking against concrete and the new revelation that the girl he knows is a stranger again. He wobbles for a moment, arms out to the side as he tries to regain his bearings but you don’t so much as give him another second of your attention. “Docks are secure, Fury. Fitz is ready for pickup. I’ll send London co-ordinates when I get back to base.”

Steve glances at the bleeding man still panicking about the knife sticking out of his leg, and you go over to him, hauling him to his feet. The man shivers, whimpers when he puts weight on his injured leg but you give no hint that you care. As if on cue, a helicopter swerves through the air, rotors sending powerful gales of air down to the ground as it lowers itself to the ground and you look at Steve with a cold disinterest, hand a fist around Fitz’s collar.

“Believe it or not, I’m not just Captain America’s pretty little girlfriend anymore.”

“I just want to talk—”

“There’s nothing I want to say to you.” Turning around, you lug Fitz into the helicopter with a strength Steve doesn’t recognize and you climb onto the chopper with a grace he knows didn’t exist before he left you.

Don’t go. Please don’t go. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I’m going back to the compound,” you say over the loud gusts of wind whipping at the ground. “You’ll find Bucky there, if that’s who you’re really here for because if I wasn’t enough for you then, then I certainly won’t be enough for you now.” Pulling back into the helicopter, you yank the door shut with a slam, and Steve watches as it rises, a steady ascension to a place where he can’t follow.

His stomach twists, his whole body wracked with a shaking agony as his heart pushes itself up your throat. Falling to his knees, he keens over and throws up, acid splashing between his hands. He vomits out his heart, every inch of warmth you’ve ever given him so freely, every smile he’s taken for granted, the taste of your smile after you’ve made those apple pies.

He’s left hollowed out, colder than death.

He wants to cry, but even his mind tells him you don’t deserve to cry for the woman you chased away, so he laughs. Laughs until they turn into tears, and even then they don’t feel real. His body is unwilling to yield to the possibility of defeat, and yet here he is.

It was a one in a million chance for us both to survive that Snap, Steve. And Thanos destroyed the stones. If we can’t find a way to bring them back… maybe the only thing we can do now is move on.

Some people move on. But not us... Not us

Take your ring and give it to the girl you really love because it isn’t me.

Steve’s shock. There was less of a protest, only your determination to stop your lip from trembling, the tears already falling from glassy eyes. Grief bit him in the stomach, but yearning tugged his heart toward the platform.

If all you could think about in the ten years we were together was Peggy, I don’t see why I should stop you.

Y/N, you know I love you.

Not enough.

.

The compound is different. Different plot of land, different inhabitants, different facilities. He pulls up in the lot where the Avengers sign is carved into the stone and he walks the grounds, grounds he used to know but this is different soil.

Another man’s grounds.

“Steve,” Sam says, cautious on the track. He’s wearing a tee-shirt and shorts, skin glistening with sweat and a water bottle in hand. He’s got a comm link in his ear and it glows blue for a moment before muting itself. There are a few recruits running a few laps and Steve eyes them wearily before approaching Sam. His beard was shaved two days ago, his hair chopped clean even though it makes him more noticeable now. He hopes no one says anything about the old Captain America pathetically dragging himself back to a place he tried to run from. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you came in.”

“Yeah. I… I just wanted to see Bucky.” Your name bites at his tongue and it takes all his strength not to confess what happened down in Mexico before Sam glances behind him to a building he doesn’t recognize. It’s connected to the main facility by a long tunnel but there are doors to the track as well, and they open just as Steve fixes his gaze on it.

Two figures stumble out of the building, a piercing shriek splitting the air with glee as one of them runs away from the other. Even from the distance, Steve can see the metal glint of Bucky’s arm, your favourite swimsuit strapped to your body. Bucky’s holding onto something as he chases after you and you barrel through the grass, towel cloaking your shoulders.

“They’re happy, man,” Sam murmurs lowly as they get onto the track and you’re still running but you’re no match for a super soldier. Bucky scoops you up, tossing aside his water gun and wrapping you in a huge hug from behind. “Even if Barnes wants to see you, do you think she does?”

“I already saw her in Mexico,” he utters softly. You’re laughing so loudly it makes Steve’s chest explode with light. You thrash in Bucky’s arms and he pretends to nip at your skin, growl into your ear as you tug at the towel around your neck. You’re… you. Just as he left you. Nothing like Mexico. “Why is she in the field, now? She’s not a soldier.”

“That’s for her to explain, not me. I don’t get to try to describe the hell you put her through, Steve.” Bucky puts you down and your feet in those strappy tan sandals sink into the grass as you spin around. You plant a kiss gently on Bucky’s lips, using the corner of your towel to wipe away drips from his hair before stealing another kiss. Steve’s mouth tingles, burning uncomfortably and he looks away. That used to be him, leaving the pool, smelling like chlorine and sweat and then popsicles to cool down because nothing screamed summer like fruit popsicles and swimming.

“Steve?” A tentative voice calls and Steve’s eyes refocus to the source on reflex. You’re staring at him, eyes narrowed into knife points and you hold Bucky’s arm to your chest, your fingers entwined with his as his old friend walks towards him. “Steve— you’re back? What are you… what are you doing here?”

“Guess the past isn’t where I belong,” he says with a forced smile that digs into his cheeks and Bucky lets go of your hand to hug him but his lips are parted, his eyes wide. He doesn’t believe this is real and when Steve meets your eyes over Bucky’s shoulder, your gaze is burning. Bucky’s arms squeeze around Steve tighter, tight enough that even he can’t breathe. He’s shattered in his arms, Bucky is, and Steve can only hold him.

“Let’s go inside,” Sam says, ever the mediator. Steve looks at him but his eyes are on you, and Bucky’s pulling back and then his eyes are on you, too. All eyes on you and your worried lip between your teeth. You’re tanned, toned, and your hair is shining underneath the summer sun as Bucky steps away from Steve as well. As if the euphoria of having his best friend is gone—it is. He chose a daydream over his family. “You guys need to get dry.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, eyes darkening as they linger on Steve’s face. Soaking him in, thinking a thousand miles a minute, trying to sort through whatever storm lingers in his head. His eyebrows hood his gaze as he lowers his head and Steve can see him slip away as you take Bucky’s hand, cup his face, and turn him away.

“Popsicles, yeah? Gotta get the last ones before Wanda steals ‘em away,” you whisper and Bucky’s nose brushes against your head before they begin to walk away. Bucky’s shoulders are hunched over and you’ve got an arm around his waist, and there is something sacred in the way his head brushes against yours, the way his arm drapes around your shoulders. The way his fingers play with the fluffy towel around you, bringing the corner of it to your wet cheek. The way you step in tandem. 

Something tender, something hallowed, something not his.

You’d been sharp and scorched in Mexico. In Bucky’s presence, you are nothing but dewy grass and a gentle fire, and he sees the tension ease in your shoulders despite a knot lingering in your back.

Once you’d been soft like cotton clouds like it was your nature, eager to stay away from the fight. You were just the receptionist at Stark Towers and Steve had fallen first, so eager to protect you because you were kind, gentle, funny and you didn’t care about who he was. Just that he was Steve and you were you.

I can’t let anything happen to you. You can’t protect yourself against these guys, Y/N. They’re… they’re monsters.

And he left you to them anyway, in a world still struggling to find itself repopulated and alive—

I failed you. I failed everyone.

The realization devastates him. No matter how hard he tried to fix the world, he destroyed his life anyway.

“Come on, man. If you wanna talk, we should do it in private,” Sam says. Steve follows him numbly into a building he doesn’t know anymore.

.

You’re sitting with your legs bent and angled in towards Bucky, playing with a butterfly knife that flows too easily between your nimble fingers. Sam sits on the leather seat and Steve leans back into the sofa as you bite softly into your red popsicle. Strawberry. Your favourite.

Bucky’s sucking down a blue one but his face is placid, eyes burning into the glass table between them as Sam sits down with a cup of coffee he had offered to make for Steve. The blade flips over your index finger, and then back around again. Your hair is stringy and wet, tied away from your face as you set down the knife and turn to Bucky, eyes searching. You brush his hair away from his face even though it’s cropped shorter now and smile even though he doesn’t focus on you.

He doesn’t miss Bucky’s hand around the curve of your thigh, holding you to him as if you’ll slip away otherwise. He fights the nasty remark pounding against his teeth—that’s his girl his best friend’s got his hand on—but he knows it isn’t his place anymore. Steve watches you lick sweet strawberry melt from your lips, trail your fingers along Bucky’s head delicately and pull his temple towards you for a quick peck.

It’s almost as if Bucky wakes up at your touch, and he turns to you. He searches too, scans your gaze and Steve feels like he’s intruding on a moment so he looks into his lap.

“So?” Sam prompts, tearing everyone out of whatever bubble they’ve encased themselves in and pulling them back into harsh reality. “Who wants to go first?”

There’s silence where Bucky puts down his popsicle stick on the bowl brought out, blue melt sliding down the wood slowly as you bite down on the last of your own treat.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice is quiet, accepting already.

“I have so many things to say and I don’t even know how to say any of it, but I know to apologize,” the blond says after a moment of hesitation. His breath keeps catching in your throat and you lean forward to drop off your own stick by Bucky’s, almost a statement to his own words. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Sam asks for clarity, but Steve entertains the notion that maybe even his friend wants to draw it out of him.

“I didn’t know what I had until I lost it.” Steve makes a point to meet three pairs of eyes except you refuse to look at him, instead staring into Bucky’s lap like he doesn’t even exist, like you don’t exist either. “I should’ve stayed. Should’ve thought it through and realized that... everything I had back then is everything I had here.”

“Is that all?” Bucky stares at him with something like pity, something like jealousy, and Steve knows it has all to do with the woman in his arms. Ten years of conflict to push lovers together compared to five years of overcoming heartache because of one man. Steve would be jealous—had been jealous of Steve of 2012. 2012 Steve had a whole decade of love waiting for him and he has none. “Are you here to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“If you think you can come here and have everything that was yours just given to you on a silver platter, then you’re wrong,” you speak up for the first time and it sucks all the warmth out of the room. Bucky turns to you, hand raising from your thigh to brush a wet strand of hair away from your cheek and you clench your jaw, lips pressed together. “We built our lives without you in it.”

“Y/N.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees but you seem to shrink away from him, eyes tortuously meeting his.

“You leaving me was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me,” you whisper with a rage unbridled, unchained, just barely containing itself from exploding. “It made me realize how much stronger I am then you have ever given me credit for.”

“You weren’t that girl when I met you.” Soft girl with sunshine smiles and gauzy white dresses—lemonade pitchers, tulip gardens—you weren’t that girl, Steve’s mind protests but when you unwind from the couch, stretch every languid muscle in your body, he wonders if he ever saw you as anything more than someone he had to protect.  

“I believed you when you said I couldn’t fight.” You stand, gazing openly at him and he swallows at the hopelessness residing in your gaze, still there after five years. “That I wasn’t enough like you to even try to help. All I ever was to you was some pretty little thing who was scared to fight back and maybe I was because you sheltered me for ten fucking years.” Your voice twists with pain, overflowing with a frustration of lost time and pure, pure sadness. “You leaving me made me stand on my own two feet again.”

Bucky reaches forward to take your hand when they all see it tremble but you simply roll it into a fist and step away.

“You put me through hell, Steve. I had to learn how to fight for myself because you weren’t there. Because you left me for some fucking daydream.” For a moment, he thinks you soften because your eyebrows fall and you close your eyes. The muscle in your jaw ticks, your nose twitches, and when you open your eyes again, they are glassy with tears. “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

Tony. Natasha. Boss. Best friend. Colleague. Sister.

“How could you do that?” you whimper, blinking as tears scorch down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily with the heel of your hand. “How could you just look at me, look at Sam, look at Bucky, and think that there is nothing worth staying for?” You throw out your hand helplessly, waiting for an answer that won’t come and Steve chews on the inside of his cheek, throat swelling shut.

“It felt like minutes,” Bucky says at last, and the darkness in the room, the stifled feeling in Steve’s chest eases only a tad because Bucky is not nearly as thunderous as you are. You twist to look at him, arms crossed over your chest and Sam reaches to touch your arm, fingers wrapped around your bicep. You spare him a glance before looking at Bucky. “We died, we came back five years later, and it only felt like minutes.”

“Bucky—”

“You chose to leave what felt like minutes after I died, after Sam died, and when Y/N told me what happened… Steve…” A shuddering convulses down his throat and Bucky looks down into his lap. You unfold your arms and immediately go to sink into the couch, wrapping an arm around Bucky. Your eyes pin him down, red-rimmed with unshed tears, accusing: you did this to an already broken man.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” The apology sounds plastic in his mouth with how many times he’s said it, thought it. “I’m so sorry.” He says it again anyways, and he directs it at the two other bodies in the room. You gauge his expression, watch him like he’ll vanish in a flash of smoke.

“I was happy for you if leaving meant I never had to see you again. I know you deserve a happy ending, Steve. You deserve rest more than anyone I know,” he says, “but you need to know what you want before you decide to risk it all. You can’t come crawling back for second chances because there are none. You don’t come back and have everything stay the same. There’s a price every time you give something up.” He looks up, eyes like clear water. There’s nothing angry in his old friend’s gaze, just drained. “If you’re here to stay, you better be sure that this is what you want in the end.” And then Bucky is up, rubbing at his face like he’s tired rather than an inch from crying. Steve watches him go—they all do—silently, and then you look at Sam who gets up to follow.

There’s a moment when you meet eyes with Steve and he can feel the love you swaddled him in for ten years, through the Snap, through the Accords. No matter where he was, you were there.

Then that love disappears.  

“I want you to hurt like you made me hurt,” you begin softly, hands folded in your lap, t-shirt hanging off your frame, stuffed into your shorts. “Like you still make me hurt. I want you to wake up crying, I want you to rub your face raw, I want you to stay awake all night just wondering why this has happened. I want nothing more than you begging on your knees for something you can’t stop no matter how hard you try because somehow you just aren’t enough.”

He closes his eyes, lets your words devour him whole.

“Bucky was there,” you continue quietly. “He was there for me in a way you never were. He drove me home after you left. Told me that the best was yet to come. That I just couldn’t see it yet, and I didn’t believe him. For the longest time, I didn’t believe a single word he said.”

“Until you did.”

“Until one day, I looked at him and told him I know. That I know, one day, things will change,” you agree and something melts in your voice when you speak of Bucky. Kindred souls, the same heartache lurking still in chests just beginning to warm from love again. “Maybe it hurt less that day so I decided that I have to accept that this was my life now or maybe I was just so sick of crying that I told myself that this isn’t who I’m going to be. I don’t know. I just woke up one day, and he asked if I wanted to go swimming. First summer after everyone came back, and I wanted to say no, but I just had to say yes because it was swimming, and it was Bucky, and he was barely holding it together but here he was… taping and gluing me like I was some abstract project.” You chuckle, a wet sound, before glancing down at your knees. There is something you’re not telling him, and he knows it’s something secret to you and Bucky alone, so he doesn’t push it. Doesn’t ask—his chest already feels like it’s cracked open. “Some of the pieces won’t ever fit again.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, “did he train you?”

“Yeah.” Explains a Black Widow move. You sound proud, but not of yourself, of your own feats and talent, but of him. “He encouraged it. Said it was only right I knew how to fight.” Steve’s stomach turns and he looks down to swallow. Bile is burning in his throat. The threads of his heart are tearing.

“I know it’s all I’ve been saying, but I’m sorry. I… I just tried to protect you in every way I could.”

“I know.” Your words are soft against his battered ears, and he looks up at you sitting there, ramrod straight but a certain gentleness that reminds him of the past. “I know you loved me in the way you could.” Clutching, grasping, desperate not to lose another woman he loves. “When you saw Peggy, did you just decide that that was easier?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just felt like I was missing something. Something…”

“... you couldn’t find here?”

“Just something.”

You ruminate on that, eyes fixed on the popsicle sticks and Steve rubs his hands together, head bowed. The silence is terse but not hostile, and you pick up the butterfly knife on the cushion. You don’t flick it open, just run your thumb over the edge and Steve thinks you might cut him stem to stern before you place it down on the glass table.

“I used to stay up all night wondering where I went wrong,” you say it frankly. It’s not meant to hurt him anymore. You seem tired of being angry, but it’s still there, just there underneath your skin. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat unless Bucky made me. I would’ve rather starved than live in a world where you didn’t love me, but he said if he had to go on, then so did I. He never asked for anything in return, and I was just so fucking angry at myself that I listened to him just to spite myself. I cried all the time. I didn’t move from my bed for months. Yet, one little part of me,” you murmur, gaze rising to meet his, “always just wanted you to be happy. I wanted so desperately for you to make the right choice because then maybe this would’ve been worth it for you.”

It’s big. Your words hang on imaginary strings around his head, whistling in the faint air conditioned wind, and he clenches his jaw, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Although you’re barely holding yourself together before him, you’re deathly beautiful.

“I’m so glad that you’re so loved,” Steve intones quietly. “I’m so thankful that Bucky loves you.” He doesn’t need eyes to feel it. It’s a quiet thing, unshaking yet fragile as flowers and light as dandelion wisps.

“I didn’t think he did.” You lean back into the couch, tuck your feet underneath yourself and cross your arms over your chest. “It took me a long time to accept that he does, and now he won’t believe that I do, too.”

The confession sinks its teeth into Steve’s throat and threatens to tear his flesh.

“I tell him and I can tell he doesn’t believe me sometimes. No matter how much I want him to, it’s the one thing he can’t believe because…”

You were my girl, Steve thinks.

“He doesn’t believe he’s worth staying for. Worth choosing. You did that to him, you know? Did that to me.”

“I know.”

You stare at him and he looks at you, curled up on the couch. Your face is drying, but that torn expression still sits on your face as you run a hand over your middle, fingers folding as you close your eyes and duck your head.

His eyes trace the gesture, eyebrows knitting together, and then he looks at you because he knows. Because it had been their dream once, and when the fight is over, baby. The world still needs you, Captain America.

He had said, half joking, When will they ever stop needing me?

When you grow old and grey, and another Captain America is ready to take your place.

“Bucky’s?” he asks, body numbing. You nod, raising your eyes to his. “Does he know?”

“No. I only found out a few days after Mexico.” Three weeks ago. “I want to make it past a few more weeks, just to make sure.” You tuck your knees to your chest, arms folded over your abdomen and Steve tries to imagine it swollen with life. No longer lean with muscle but bountiful with a miracle. Blue eyes, blonde hair— no. Not anymore. “Just wanted time.”

Time. It’s all he’s ever wanted, and now…

“I know.”

Now he has none at all.

Your eyes meet his, fluttering and haunted, and he simply meets your gaze. There’s a quiet understanding in that moment as you bring your hands up to hug yourself, and he swallows, leaning back into the couch. His hands rest on his thighs, and your back sinks into the back cushion of your loveseat as he thinks of what to say.

Perhaps there is nothing to say.

Instead, his right hand goes to his pocket where a ring is still pinched tightly in between the creases. The diamond is sharp against his flesh, and he tugs it out carefully before setting it on the glass table between them. You stare at the thing, watch it glint. It’s mocking you, but Steve doesn’t want it and he doesn’t know what else to do.

“It’s always been yours,” he says, pushing it to your side of the table. The diamond scrapes against glass but doesn’t leave a mark. “It’s never been anyone else’s but yours.” The ring clatters against the gass. You’d worn that damned thing for years on end. First it was the Accords, then Wakanda, then the Snap, and he should’ve married you when he had the chance—he should’ve done so much more than what he did.

“Do you love me?” you ask quietly, eyes unmoving from the winking gemstone. The golden band is glowing in the pale lights of the compound as he nods.

“Yes.”

You reach forward to grab it, extend a leg to shove it into the pocket of your shorts, and then you’re sitting there, feet on solid ground again. You gauge him, study him, eyebrows down, lips curved into a soft frown.

“Okay.”

You stand and pick up the knife before grabbing the bowl as well. You clear your throat and look over Steve’s head, at the walls with photographs and paintings and a dartboard by the doorway, and then you look at Steve again.

Your futile attempt at a smile makes Steve smile, just barely, before you walk past him and head for the open kitchen. You set the bowl down in the sink before heading for the hallway, and Steve can hear your step, your off-rhythm breathing.

“Do you love me?” he asks, turning to look at you, and a sigh whispers past his lips as you pause. Your hand is in your pocket as you turn around, playing with the knife or the ring, he doesn’t know.

“You can’t ask me that, Steve.” Your voice is steel, your eyes unforgiving, and that soft girl is swallowed up by the scorched woman, burned by his absence. You haven’t forgiven him. You never will. “Look, I’m going to go find Bucky. We have… we’re going berrypicking in the afternoon, so…”

“Yeah, no, go. Don’t let me keep you.”

“See you tomorrow, Rogers.”

There’s an utter sense of finality to it. A chapter closing permanently and you’re already on the next page.

“See you.”

The door slides shut and you’re gone.

#fic: scorched #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic #stucky x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #chris evans #sebastian stan #lyn2k #my writing

[mermaidxatxheart]

A Beautiful Lie

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: This one is rough, guys. Trauma, torture, blackmail, Bucky being dangerously charming. If torture isn’t for you, please don’t read. 

Prompt: The truth is, I was only using you. (will be in bold)

Summary: You’re forced to do something terrible, something you would give your soul not to have to do. 

A/N: Y’all, it’s been a hot minute since I posted anything, almost all year. I’ve really been struggling to find the inspiration to write and I really appreciate everyone who has stuck with me and followed me through this dry spell. Hopefully, I’m reaching the end of it. This is for @coffee-with-bucky‘s 2k writing challenge. I am beyond late, and I am so very sorry. Congratulations on your milestone, and I hope you reach many more. 

“You didn’t have to walk me home, Bucky. It’s in the complete opposite direction of where you need to be.” You tell him as he dutifully walks you up the steps to your apartment building. 

 “Are you kidding? My mother would be rolling in her grave if I let my date walk home by herself. She raised me better than that.” He defends, raising a big hand to his chest. “And I’m right where I need to be, making sure my girl gets home safe.” He nudges your arm playfully. “Besides, I get to spend more time with you this way.”

 “Those are all very good points.”

 He pulls open the heavy door for you and you step inside. You’ve only been dating Bucky a couple of months, but so far, he’s the most amazing person you’ve ever met. Old world charm without being a creepy serial killer; a gentleman without assuming you need to give him something in return. 

 It’s nice to be doted on just because. 

 He pushes the button for your floor and watches the numbers. You watch him. His long eyelashes, his perfectly sculpted profile, strong jaw, pouty lips. They twitch at the corners, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the numbers. The creaking of the elevator stretches out the silence as it descends. 

 “You’re staring.” He points out. 

 “Am I? Oops.” You shrug, still looking at him.

 “Do I have something on my face?” He sighs.

 “Why does there have to be anything wrong? Maybe I’m just watching so you don’t disappear.” You turn to face him.

 Slowly, he twists his head to look at you, a frown tugging at his mouth now. “Disappear? And where exactly would I go?” 

 “Wherever it is that perfect men go when the dream ends.” You lean against him with a smile. 

 “Y/N, I’m far from perfect.” He shakes his head and you capture his face in your hands, having to rise up on your tiptoes. 

 “You have been everything I could have ever wished for. You’re perfect for me.”

 He dips forward to kiss you softly and the doors ding open. He wraps his big arms around you and lifts you up, carrying you into the small box. You yelp in surprise and cling to his shoulders. He grins and sets you back against the wall, leaning down to kiss you again. 

 He’s soft. So very soft and gentle with you. The cool metal of his left hand brushes down your cheek and his eyes search yours, the smile on his face growing with each passing second. 

 “What?” You ask quietly. “Do I have something on my face?”

 He laughs quietly. “You’re beautiful.” He shakes his head. “No, I was just thinking about something.” He says so casually. 

 “Care to share with the class, Barnes?” You tease. 

 “Well, I was just thinking that I love you.” He says, turning around to face the doors. 

 Your heart tumbles in your chest as you look at his shit eating grin. “You do?” 

 “Why wouldn’t I? You’re perfect for me.” He shrugs and you smack his arm. He laughs, capturing your hand and bringing it to his lips.

 “I love you, too.” 

 He pulls you against him and picks you up, kissing you hungrily. You rake your fingers through his hair, moving with him in perfect harmony. 

 The doors open on your floor and he carries you out and down the hallway, stopping just outside your door. He kisses down your neck and you tip your head back, breathing heavily. He presses you against the wall, finding all your sensitive spots. You let out a breathy moan and he pulls away with a small chuckle. 

 “Do you want to come in?” You ask as he sets you back down on wobbly legs. 

 “I think one milestone is enough for tonight.” He smiles, brushing your hair back behind your ears. 

 “Nope, not enough.” You shake your head. He has you in a state of frenzy now. 

 He grins. “Another time.” He promises. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

 He waits until you’re inside your apartment to leave. But that’s when you could have used him the most. 

 Hands grab you from behind, a strong arm curling around your waist and the other covering your mouth. You still scream, try to wriggle out of the strong hold they have on you. But it’s no good. A large figure clad in all black appears in front of you, arm raised and then everything goes black.

 ***

 The aroma of delicious smelling food wafts through the entire building. It permeates into every room and causes several heads to poke out their doors. You smile sheepishly, knocking on Bucky’s door. 

 He pulls it open, sweat pants low on his hips as he towels his hair dry. “Y/N.” He says in surprise. 

 “I thought you might be hungry.” You hold up the bags of takeout. “But I didn’t know what you liked, so I got some of everything.”

 “Did I hear there was extra food?” A voice says behind you and Bucky groans with a roll of his eyes. 

 “No one invited you, Wilson. Go away.” 

 “No, it’s okay, Bucky. Honestly, there’s so much-we can share.” You smile back at his friend. 

 Inside, your stomach is roiling with nerves. 

 It takes you a long time to wake up, your pulse pounds in your ears, giving you a headache. Or maybe it was the chemical they used to knock you out.

 “Finally. We don’t have a lot of time, so we’ll get right to the point.” A man’s voice says roughly, grabbing your chin.

 Your eyes flutter closed as you fight the effects of whatever they gave you.

 “I hope you’re paying attention because I definitely don’t like to repeat myself.” He warns.

 “But I don’t like to share.” Bucky protests.

 “Great, it’s settled.” His friend grins, taking the bags from you and leading you away from Bucky. “I’m Sam. I’m sure he doesn’t mention me much. He wouldn’t want you to come to your senses and leave him for someone smarter, handsomer, superior in every way-really.” Sam smirks and you give a chuckle. 

 “You’ll have to let me know when someone like that arrives.” You return and he groans. Bucky laughs, kissing the top of your head. 

 “That’s my girl.”

 More of the Avengers file into the kitchen and you back up out of the way. Unfortunately, you bump right into Tony Stark. He squints down at you suspiciously. 

 “And where do you think you’re going?” He asks, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you back into the crowd. 

 “Oh, I was just moving out of the way.” You say awkwardly. 

 “Relax, kid. I’m messing with you.” He says easily. He opens a cabinet and turns to you. “Hands up.” He says and you hold your hands out automatically. He gets down a bunch of plates and sets them in your grasp. “Table. Go.” He turns you around and points to the large dining table. 

 You set out the plates while everyone brings the food over and it feels so surreal, sitting at a table surrounded by the most powerful humans on the planet and they’re just talking and laughing like one big family. 

 Bucky squeezes your hand as everyone starts helping themselves to food. Bowls get passed around and you only take small amounts of food, your nerves ratcheting high with every passing second. 

 “Not hungry?” Sam asks, looking at you.

 “No, we had a big catering thing at work and I overate. I really just brought food as an excuse to see Bucky.” You shrug with a glance at the man next to you. He gives you a cheeky smile in reply, his perfect eyes crinkling in the corner, a genuine smile full of affection that you wish you could return. 

 “Well, you can use that excuse any time. Natasha grins, biting into an egg roll. 

 You chuckle, taking a sip of your water. They start asking you questions, what you do, where you’re from, how’d you meet Bucky. 

 They’re easy enough to answer and for a moment, you’re distracted. But then you remember your situation and you sit back from your plate. Bucky takes your hand under the table, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back. 

 Everyone eats until the food is gone, even tiny little Natasha Romanoff packs away the lo mein. 

 “You can stay for a movie, right?” Sam narrows his eyes at you. 

 “Depends. What movie is it?” You ask. 

 “Bucky’s never seen James Bond, so we’re starting with the first one.” Wanda says, pushing herself up and carrying her plate to the sink. 

 “I’ll stay.” You nod, standing and grabbing yours and Bucky’s plates. 

 “Just pile them in the sink, Y/N. They can wait.” Tony calls and everyone files into the living room, settling on the comfortable couches. 

 You slide down next to Bucky and he shifts you against his side comfortably. “I missed you.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

 “I missed you, too.” You mumble. 

 “Long day?” He asks, his hand rubbing your arm gently. 

 You nod, faking a yawn. “And I have to be up early tomorrow. Stupid budget meeting.” You roll your eyes as Tony starts the movie. 

 “You don’t have to stay long. I’m just glad you came.” He smiles. 

 Instead of replying, you rest your head on his shoulder. Wanda starts the movie and you don’t have to wait long. About ten minutes into the movie, Sam starts to snore, his head tilted back awkwardly against the headrest. They all fall like dominoes shortly after that. 

 Bucky’s fighting it, his eyes drop closed before flying open again. You look up at him, feeling each time he jerks himself awake. 

 “Bucky? You okay?” You whisper, heart breaking in your chest for him. 

 “Mhm.” He hums, rubbing his eyes.

 “If you’re tired, it’s okay. You guys had a long mission.” You mumble, brushing his hair back gently. 

 “Feel like a jerk.” He manages and you kiss his shoulder.

 “Don’t worry about it.” 

 His eyes drift close and his head drops back onto the love seat cushion. You grab a pillow and carefully lift his head to support it better. His eyes flutter again and you pause, watching him carefully. But they stay closed and you sigh in relief. 

 Easing yourself up and away from him, you grab another pillow and prop it under Sam’s head so that he doesn’t get a neck ache in the morning. Natasha and Wanda have shared the couch, laying at opposite ends, both soundly asleep. You pull the blanket off the back and drape it over them, tucking them in. 

 Tony is in an armchair, not much you can do for him there, but you cover him with a soft blanket, your stomach twisting into knots. 

 You wash the dishes quickly, getting rid of any evidence, placing them back in the cabinet. You gather up all the trash back into the delivery bag and set it on the counter. 

 Turning to Bucky, you wipe away at the tears that are collecting in your eyes. You really love this man. It hasn’t been long, but he’s treated you better than anyone else in your life. And if something could be both the hardest, and the easiest-it would be this. 

 You make your way back over, carefully sliding your hand into his pocket for his wallet. You find Tony’s lab card and make your way to the hallway.

 “Your boyfriend is going on a mission tomorrow with the rest of the freaks. When he gets back, you’re going to show up, the loving girlfriend, with enough food for all of them.” The man in black instructs. He grips your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. “This goes in the food. It’ll knock them all out so you won’t be disturbed. Even your super freak boyfriend can’t fight it.” He grins, holding up a vial of liquid.

 “You’re crazy.” You snap, twisting your chin out of his tight grasp. 

 He sighs loudly. “I can see we’re gonna have to do this the hard way, then.” He shakes his head and opens a laptop screen. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to use this option.” He turns the screen around and your eyes widen. 

 “No.” You gasp.

 The building is so quiet, eerily silent with everyone being passed out in the living room. You’ve memorized the layout, you know which way you’re supposed to go. But your feet drag. You don’t want to do this. Every cell in your body is fighting against it, against betraying him. 

 The glass doors slide open noiselessly and you step inside. You almost wish one of them would catch you. It would be a relief to not be able to finish, but you know they won’t. 

 You find the right terminal and plug in the external hard drive. Tapping away at the keyboard, it doesn’t take you long to find the right file. You make a copy of it, doing what you can to ease your conscience before leaving. 

 You’re tempted to stop in and see Bucky, just to look at him one last time, as though that would stop your heart from breaking. But you don’t. 

 You can’t. 

 You leave the building in a hurry, anxious to be done with this whole thing. A part of you believes that you won’t be seeing the sunrise. But they aren’t kind enough for that. As you pass one, you toss the trash in a dumpster, further obliterating the evidence. 

 The coffee shop is unfamiliar to you. It’s far from your apartment, so the anonymity is a bonus. 

 You slide into a booth, tipping your cup right side up. The waitress comes over, filling the cup. “Can I get you anything?” She asks in a bored tone. 

 “Not yet. I’m waiting for someone.” You answer automatically. You tongue is like cotton, your stomach churning with guilt and anxiety. There’s no way you could eat, even if you wanted to. 

 You don’t have to wait long, your hands have barely started to warm from the cup when a big man eases into the seat across from you. 

 “You’ve done well.” He praises. 

 You can feel your face twist in disgust. A compliment from him is about to make you sick. “I’ve got your stupid thing. I’m free to go now?” You ask hotly. 

 “Sure. Not like we don’t know where to find you if we need you again.” He grins wickedly at you. A wolf looking at a sheep. 

 You set the flash drive on the table and launch yourself out of your seat, rushing for the door. You need to escape, get out of the city. 

 A stop at the ATM empties your bank account, and then you’re a whirlwind, throwing clothes into your suitcases. There’s only one thought in your head: escape. 

 Escape those awful men. Escape your betrayal. Escape the hurt you’ve just caused to Bucky, his wrath when he finds out. But you deserve those things, his hatred and anger. You could take that because you deserve it. 

 But those men, they’re only out to cause more pain, to make you cause pain. And you can’t put up with that.

 You hail a cab, planning on never returning to your apartment again. You’ll become a shadow if you have to. Somehow. 

 Your chest aches, but you have to do it. You have to say goodbye.

 Bucky

 He paces the length of his quarters, listening to the ringing phone on the other end. You must be at work or something. He hangs up with a sigh. 

 He can’t believe they all passed out on you last night. What you must think of them. 

 “Sergeant Barnes, Mr. Stark would like to see you in his lab.” FRIDAY comes on the overhead. 

 “Sure. I’ll be right down.” He leaves his room and heads for the third floor entrance. 

 Stark is pacing, sharp pivots and staccato heel to toe steps. His face is turning various shades of red. He’s pissed. 

 “Tony?” Bucky starts. 

 “What do you think you were doing?” He asks instantly. 

 “I’m lost. What are you talking about?” Bucky frowns. 

 “Last night, you came into my lab and accessed the Dresden File.” He snaps. 

 “Last night? We were all together last night. I don’t even know what that file is.”

 “Oh right. And I’m just supposed to believe that you also didn’t make a copy of it and take it out of this building?” He crosses his arms defensively. 

 “Tony, I haven’t left the grounds since we got home yesterday afternoon. And why would I take one of your stupid files anywhere?” Bucky fires back. 

 “Well, explain how your access card was used to get in here, then. Hmm?” He demands. 

 “I dunno, genius. Have you tried pulling up the surveillance cameras?” 

 “I... I was just waiting for them to download.” He huffs, turning his back on the former soldier. 

 Bucky rolls his eyes. He might not be caught up on everything modern, but he sure as shit knows that you don’t have to download security footage.

 They both peer at the screen as you enter the lab. Bucky’s blood freezes in his veins as he watches you steal from Stark. 

 “What’s in the file that she took?” Bucky asks through clenched teeth. 

 “A weapon. Or at the very least, it can be used as a weapon if modified correctly.” Tony looks up at him. “If she sells it,” he trails off unnecessarily. 

 Bucky knows exactly what will happen. You better hope he can’t find you.

 Bucky marches out of the lab and straight for the front door. He heads straight for you apartment, which isn’t smart; if you had any brains at all you wouldn’t be there. How can you do this to him? There has to be some kind of mistake, or misunderstanding. 

 You love him, you wouldn’t do this to him. Or maybe after 80 years in captivity, he’s forgotten how to read people. You were just a lie, a beautiful lie. 

 He pounds on your front door, nearly kicking it down but you don’t answer. He easily picks the lock, his anger and desperation warring inside him. He needs there to be some logic reason that you’ve done this. 

 Maybe it wasn’t really you. Maybe it’s like what Wanda does, an illusion. Someone making them think that it’s you.

 The door swings open as his phone rings. He steps inside, answering it. “What, Stark?” 

 Your apartment is a mess. Chairs tipped over, dishes broken on the floor. The cushions on the couch have been tossed. 

 “She emptied her bank account late last night. She’s gone.” 

 “See if you can follow her on security cameras when she leaves the building. Find out where she went.” He says with a sigh. 

 How can a guy be so wrong?

 ***

 The knock on your motel room door nearly sends you into a heart attack. You rise silently from the chair and creep to the door. If it’s those guys again, you don’t know how you’re going to get away. You’ve already refused maid service, no one knows you’re here.

 You look out the peep hole and your heart somersaults in your chest. You should have been expecting this, you should have known he wouldn’t let it go. Doesn’t make what you’re about to do any easier. 

 You square your shoulders, take a deep breath. Its for his own good. You swing open the door, your face cold and detached. “What do you want?” You mutter.

 “Are you kidding me?” He pushes his way into your room, taking in the dingy walls and ugly carpet. “Where is it?” He rounds on you, his handsome face contorted in pain. Maybe rage?

 “Where is what?” You sigh. 

 He surges forward, grabbing your arms and shaking you. “Don’t play stupid. The flash drive, Y/N. I want it back.” He snaps. 

 “I don’t have it anymore.” You reply dully. 

 “Bullshit.”

 “You think I’m gonna hold onto that? Got rid of it the first chance I got.” You snap back.

 “And now you’re just hiding in a shit motel in Jersey? Of all places-fucking Jersey.” He rolls his eyes. 

 “First stop on my farewell tour.” You mutter. “If that’s all, I’d like my arms back now.”

 He shoves you away from him and you bump into the wall with more force than you were expecting. “Just... tell me why. I thought...” he trails off and your resolve nearly breaks. 

 “I know what you thought. That’s what made it so easy. But the truth is, I was only using you.” You say, the words managing not to break. 

 His face crumples and he steps away from you. “None of it was real?”

 “Sorry.” You say flatly, but inside you’re shredded. 

 He leaves mutely, climbing onto his motorcycle and you worry about him driving home. But you can’t break now. You shut the door, cutting off your view of him and you sink to the floor. 

 Tony

 “Boss. Sergeant Barnes has returned.” FRIDAY announces over the lab speaker. “He’s headed for his quarters.” 

 “Is he alone?” Tony asks, his eyes drifting to the computer screen. 

 “Yes.”

 “When he gets there, put me through.” Tony says, spinning in his chair. Barnes had one direction. Bring back the girl, or at the very least, the stolen property. 

 Should’ve known he’d let his emotions get in the way. He’s just like Rogers.

 The screen to his left lights up and he can see Barnes tense in the entry way. He doesn’t wanna talk. 

 “Where is she, Barnes?” Tony asks, digging through the computer. 

 “I let her go.” He mutters blankly. 

 “I’m sorry? You let my thief go? You better have the files, then.” He retorts. 

 “She didn’t have them.” He sounds sick. 

 “So, now both are gone in the wind. That’s perfect. I suppose it’s too much to hope that you pulled your head out of your ass long enough to get the name of the terrorist group she sold it to!” 

 “Nope. Maybe this will teach you to stop making weapons.” The video clicks off and Tony shakes his fists, strangling the air, pretending unsatisfactorily that it was Bucky Barnes in his grasp. 

 “Dick. Prince Douche.” Tony mutters under his breath. “King Asshat.” He turns his favorite playlist on high, hoping to crush out his frustrations. The soothing tones of Black Sabbath pulses through the sound system and he gets to work, searching for whatever else Bucky’s girlfriend did to his system. 

 While he works, his thoughts wander. 

 You’re good. For someone who has never even been in this building before, you knew exactly where the lab was and what terminal to go to. You knew what you were looking for, almost like... 

 His Twizzler falls out of his mouth as a thought occurs to him. 

 Shit. He almost hopes he’s wrong. 

 He scrubs the rest of the files, finding just one anomaly. He backtracks the keystrokes and recreates it. 

 Finished, he sits back with a slump. 

 Oh. You’re very, very good. He bolts out of the lab and practically sprints to Bucky’s quarters, pounding on the door. Doubled over, gasping for breath-he pounds again. 

 “What?” Bucky snaps, yanking open his door, looking all kinds of disheveled. “Stark, do you even know what time it is?” He rubs his eyes. 

 “It doesn’t matter. We have a problem.” Tony gasps, trying to catch his breath. He’s getting too old for this shit. 

 “Yeah, you need to cut back on the caffeine.” Barnes sighs. 

 “No. I think your super secret spy girlfriend was put up to this.” 

 “Tony, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 “Even if she’s in danger? Even if the people who did this to her come after her again?” Tony challenges. 

 “Stark, if she really was being put on, or blackmailed, or coerced-why wouldn’t she come to us? We’re a bunch of super freaks. We could have protected her. Think about it. She did this on her own.”

 “Not necessarily. We don’t know what they blackmailed her with. Maybe she thought the threat was too much of a risk. Where is she?”

 “Some piece of shit motel in Jersey. But she made it clear that she was only... that she did it on her own.” He clears his throat. 

 “Let me guess, while you were looking at her with those big puppy dog eyes? Yeah, no wonder she made you leave.” Tony changes direction. “Get dressed. We’re taking a trip.” He heads for Wilson’s quarters, knowing he’ll need the big bird brain as backup. 

 An hour later they pull up outside the motel just as you leave your room. It’s still dark outside, you should be sleeping, not leaving in the middle of the night. But here you are, bags in hand as you load them into a rental. You glance around nervously as you climb in. 

 “What’s she doing?” Sam leans forward, squinting. 

 “Looks like Barnes spooked her. If this pea brain can find her here, anyone can.” Tony reasons. 

 Bucky punches him in the arm, but doesn’t disagree. Tony tries not to let it show just how much it hurts. 

 “What do we do when we actually get her?” Sam asks. 

 “Get her to tell us who she gave it to. Then take them out.” Tony says simply. 

 “You never really said what makes you think she was blackmailed.” Bucky sighs, shifting in his seat. 

 “I found the file she copied. She made a copy of it on the computer first, then she removed key components. Things you have to have to make it work. Without them, these guys have scraps of paper-not enough to complete one for themselves. She transferred that second copy and that alone to the flash drive. She did everything she could to make sure they didn’t get what they wanted.” Tony half smiles. He should hire you. 

 “How do you know she didn’t write it down? Just to throw us off.” Barnes huffs as Tony follows you out of the parking lot. 

 “Cameras, Barnes. She didn’t. She deleted key sections. If she had just deleted a line or a random number, they could have figured it out with a mild genius. But she deleted pages. They have no way of knowing what was on those pages. She deleted half the design, code instructions, equations-huge chunks of vitally important information. It’s useless to them now. But I’d certainly feel better knowing who they are in case they try again.” 

 They follow you from a distance, confused as you leave New Jersey going south. You should have been going back to the city, not away from it. 

 ***

 It’s hard. Hard to remember that you need to drive the speed limit, hard to forget Bucky’s face as you lied to him. That look will haunt you until you die. Maybe one day you’ll have a chance to tell him the truth. 

 Maybe it won’t matter if you do. 

 Your eyes itch. It’s been a long three days. But you can’t close them yet. No rest for the wicked. 

 You pull into another gas station, heading inside. Cash only, and you could use about five more Red Bull’s. You grab a variety of energy drinks; Monsters, Red Bull’s, Jolts, Nos. The guy behind the counter stares at you as he rings you up. 

 “Too much of these ain’t good for ya, sweetheart. Make your heart give out.” He says conversationally. 

 “That’s the plan. Gimme thirty on pump four.” You add, sliding the cash over. 

 He hands you your bag and you pop the top on one of the heart attacks in a can as you start the pump. You chug half the drink while your tank fills. You climb back in the safety of your car, slapping your face roughly. 

 Flipping the visor down, you glare at your haggard reflection. “Wake up. You have a fucking job to do.” You point your finger. 

 You turn your music back on, blasting it loud enough to rattle the windows and you pull out of the lot, heading back for the highway. 

 Christ, your eyes itch. They feel like sand is in them every time you blink. You can’t stop, can’t slow down. You might already be too late-no. You can’t think like that. Bucky can’t lose anyone else. 

 It’s dark by the time you finally pull into the nursing home lot. You pull into a spot near the door, taking a moment to check your appearance. 

 Death warmed up. Perfect. You smooth out your hair before giving up. After two days of solid travel, there was no fixing this. You twist slowly in your seat, looking at every car in the lot, searching for people in them, something to hint at being watched. 

 Nothing, empty. You climb out and head inside the quiet lobby. 

 It’s almost empty, the desk clerk and one other person, sitting nervously off to the side.

 “Chuck?” You ask, turning toward him. 

 He looks up and nods. “Y/N?” 

 You take a brief second to think about all the faces you’ve seen, but he wasn’t one. And looking closer, you can see Bucky’s eyes, the statuesque angle of his nose. 

 Yes, this is who you’re looking for. 

 “Thanks for agreeing to meet me. I know this is strange.” You sigh, stepping forward.

 “You said something about danger.”

 “I would feel better if we could speak in your grandmother’s room. It’s a little more private.” You say pointedly. 

 “Right.” 

 He leads you to the elevator and presses the button. “Are you okay, Y/N? You look exhausted.” Chuck comments. 

 “I’ll be alright.” You wave him off as the doors open. 

 “I’m surprised you know who this is.” The man chuckles. “Barnes’ sister. She lives in a home in Savannah. Abandoned by her family, left unprotected. So easily eliminated. She sits in front of this window day and night, reading. One well placed bullet if you don’t do what we say, well, it’s goodnight, Vienna.” He grins wickedly. “You don’t want this old lady’s death on your conscience, do you?” 

 “You’re a monster.” You curse, spitting at his feet. The men around him laugh. 

 “Maybe you have no feelings about dear old Becky. That’s alright, there’s always plan B, or is it part 2? Who’s to say we won’t kill both of them?” He changes the picture and your eyes fill with tears. 

 No.

 “I can see we have a deal.” He smirks, caressing your cheek. 

 Chuck pushes open the door and enters comfortably. You slide against the wall, keeping clear of the windows. 

 “Charles?” Rebecca looks up, a beautiful smile crossing her face for her grandson. 

 “Hey, nana. How are you feeling?” He asks, bending down to kiss her cheek. 

 “Ready to run a marathon.” She grins. “Visiting hours are over, sweetheart. What are you doing here so late?”

 “Nana, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of Uncle James’. She thinks you might be in danger.” He says, gesturing to you. 

 “Danger? From who? Surely you don’t think my brother-“

 “No, ma’am. Your brother doesn’t know I’m here.” You say. “He’s, well, he doesn’t really know about this. I couldn’t tell him before I left.” You wrinkle your forehead in hopeless frustration. 

 How to explain this?

 “Charles, give me a minute with her.” Rebecca says, shooing him out the door.

 “Alright, I’ll be outside.” He smiles fondly at her before leaving. 

 “Have a seat, dear.” She gestures to the bed, but you avoid crossing the window, instead sitting at the small table. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.” She urges, taking your hand. 

 “I’ve done something terrible. Your brother trusted me and I had to betray it. There were these men, they wanted something from your brother’s job and they forced me to get it. If I didn’t, they would have killed you, and someone else. I couldn’t do that to Bucky, not when he just got you back.”

 “And why are you here now?” She asks.

 “To warn you. To make sure you’re protected. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. He loves you too much and he has so little good in his life. And after what I did... he’s going to need you.” You say, a thick lump of emotions choking your throat. 

 You know Bucky is lost to you. But she doesn’t have to be lost to him. “If I can give him this, it will make it a little easier to bear.”

 She studies your face for a long minute in silence. “You love him.” She states finally. 

 “Yes. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I had to ruin it, to make him hate me. For his own protection. Now they can’t use me again.” 

 She’s quiet again, thoughtful. “Alright. What do you need me to do?” She asks, leaning forward in her chair. 

 “Go with your family. Stay safe. Call Bucky and tell him you think people have been watching you, you’ve seen suspicious men around the building. He’ll come keep you safe.” Your voice cracks and a tear slips down your cheek. 

 “And if he doesn’t? I’m an old woman. I’ve lived my life.” She raises her chin a fraction of an inch. 

 “A life without your brother. Now you have a chance to share memories with him. To help him heal from all that time and trauma. You’re his family Rebecca. He talks about you all the time, shares stories about your family-his family. He’s so happy knowing he can just talk to you whenever. He thought that would never be possible. His whole face lights up when he mentions you. He’ll be there. He’ll protect you, I know it like I know my own name.” You promise. “Please? Stay safe for him?” 

 She squeezes your hand, surprisingly strong for a woman in her nineties. “I promise, darling. What about this other person you mentioned?” 

 “I’m going to him next. But I had to make sure you were safe first.”

 “I hope you can fix things with my brother. He’s lucky to have someone so strong.” 

 “Hardly. I don’t think it’s possible to fix this. Thank you for listening. It’s an honor to meet you.” You stand up and press a soft kiss to her weathered cheek. “I’ll send Charles back in.” You head for the door, opening it gently. 

 “She agree?” He asks. 

 You nod with a sigh. “Thanks for listening and not thinking I’m crazy.”

 “Good luck. There’s a motel down the road if you wanna catch some sleep.” He says and you shake your head. 

 “Thanks. But I gotta keep moving. I have another appointment to keep.”

 He bends down and kisses your cheek, surprising you. “Be safe. Thanks for looking out for us.”

 You squeeze his hand and turn away. At least they can be safe. 

 The window is rolled down as you pull back onto the highway. It feels good on your face and you crank the music to help you stay awake. 

 Savannah isn’t that far from FSU, your next destination. Just a couple more hours. You can do it. 

 You pop the top on your last Red Bull and chug half of it, hoping it’s enough. 

 The sunlight creeps over the horizon just as you reach the outer most limits of Tallahassee. You’ll reach campus just in time for classes. 

 You feel a sense of calm, despite your new energy drink addiction-the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight, so to speak. 

 You find the campus easily, pulling through to the main building. Christ, you hope you can catch him in time. As you reach to unbuckle your seatbelt, you spot him. 

 That beautiful, annoying boy that you’ll never complain about again. 

 “Your brother, he’s in his final year at Florida State University, isn’t he? Captain of the football team, maintaining a perfect 4.0 gpa. I believe his favorite teacher is Mrs. Yaira Morrison. She teaches his history class at one o’clock on Tuesday and Thursday.” The man says with a twisted smile. 

 Your chest heaves, watching your baby brother on the screen. They have you and they know it. 

 “What do you want me to do?” You mutter, wishing Death by a Thousand Cuts on him and his party of villains. 

 “See? I knew we could count on her!” He claps his hands enthusiastically. 

 You lurch out of your car, legs wobbly from lack of sleep, proper food, and being immobile for too long. You rush towards him, shouting his name. He’s too far away to hear you, but you know you can catch him, you have to warn him. 

 A body steps in front of you, blocking your way between the cars. You move to step around them, thinking for half a second that it’s just a student getting out of their vehicle. They block you again and you take a second look, recognizing his face in horror. 

 “Don’t make me chase you.” He warns, but you’re already taking off between the cars, trying to find a way back to yours. 

 But no, that wouldn’t be safe either. They had to have followed you here. Before you can think further on it, arms grab you from behind and your head is bashed against the hood of a truck, everything going black.

 Bucky

 There is absolutely nothing worse than listening to two grown men bicker like school boys. 

 “I can’t believe you lost her.” Sam snaps at Tony. 

 “Me? You were supposed to be watching her car! I was focusing on not dying in Florida traffic. How do people live this way?”

 “I told you not to take 75.” Sam retorts. Bucky can almost recite this argument word for word now. 

 “Don’t take 75? She took 75! What was I supposed to do? Take a different highway and hope we end up in the same place?”

 “Or don’t drive like a damn grandma! I see why Happy drives you everywhere.” Sam shoots back and Tony’s face gets beet red.

 “Take it back.” He demands.

 “No.” Sam crosses his arms. 

 “Take. It. Back.”

 “Make me, grandma.”

 “Take this exit, Stark.” Bucky mutters. That puts a brief pause to their squabbling. You’ve had them driving for days on end and they’re all exhausted. How you haven’t passed out yet is a miracle. 

 “Why?” 

 “Because I know where she’s going and if you drive the actual speed limit, we can make it there before tomorrow.” Bucky fires and Tony glares at him. 

 “Where’s she going?” Sam asks, leaning back in his seat, thrilled that someone else was taking shots at Tony, too. 

 “FSU. Her brother goes there. If she’s being blackmailed, chances are it’s with his life.” He sighs. He wishes, not for the first time, that you had just confided in him. He would have found a way to make your brother safe, to make you safe. 

 His phone rings in his pocket and he pulls it out to see his sister’s picture smiling up at him. His heart tugs fondly at the photo. “Becky?” He starts. Something’s wrong. He sensed it when he realized you drove directly past his sister’s assisted living building. That was no coincidence. 

 “Bucky, I met a friend of yours last night. Lovely girl.” She starts off casually, no sense of concern in her weathered voice. 

 “Y/N? You met her?” He asks with a frown. Why would you have gone to see his sister?

 “I did. She came to warn me about this danger that I seem to be in.” He’s alert in his seat now, all sense of weariness gone. 

 “Danger? Rebecca! Why didn’t you call me immediately?” He demands. 

 “Well, because I’ve thought about it, and I’ll do what she says-go on a trip with my kids. But I won’t do the second bit.” She says stubbornly and he presses his metal fingers to his forehead.

 “What second bit?” He sighs.

 “She said that I should tell you I’m being followed, that I’m in danger so that you’ll come here. But,”

 “I will!” He insists. 

 “But I think she’s in more danger than I am. She mentioned someone else was being threatened, someone she cares about.”

 “Her brother. We’re already aware.”

 “Oh, good. Then, you’re also aware that she loves you?” Rebecca says and he can just picture her squinting at him suspiciously, like she might hit him with her slipper if he gets the answer wrong. Just like his ma used to. 

 “Not according to her.”

 “Ah, my brother, the idiot.” She sighs wistfully and he cracks a small smile. 

 “What else did she tell you?” He asks. 

 “That she wanted to keep me safe and protected for you. She didn’t want you to lose anyone else. That she had to make you hate her for your own protection. And she doesn’t think she’ll be able to fix things with you.” She’s quiet for a minute. “But if the circumstances were different, Bucky. If she did what she did out of fear, out of loyalty and wanting to protect a complete stranger just to make one man happy-doesn’t that change things, big brother? She’s not entirely lost to you.” She finishes and he can’t force the lump in his throat to move enough to choke out words. “Just, just think about it, alright? I promised her I would keep myself safe for you. Now I need you to promise to keep her safe.”

 He clears his throat roughly. “Promise.”

 “Call me when it’s done.” She says. “I love you.” She hangs up and Bucky drops the phone into his lap, rubbing his face. 

 “What’s wrong?” Sam asks from the back seat. 

 “They threatened my sister, too. That’s why we were right there last night. Y/N went to go see Rebecca, to warn her. You were right, Stark.” He sighs dejectedly. 

 He thought he was better at reading people. But you lied so easily to him and he fell for it. How had he missed every micro expression telling him that something wasn’t right?

 “So, we really need to find her, then.” Tony says, stepping on the gas. 

 “Finally.” Sam mutters under his breath. 

 The campus is huge. They circle and circle and circle, looking for your car. Twice, they think they spot it, but checking it out further reveals no luggage in the back.

 “Maybe we missed her? Maybe she got to him and left already?” Sam suggests. 

 “Wait, is that it?” Tony points to one of the back rows of cars. 

 “Didn’t we pass that one already?” Sam asks, confused. 

 “Only one way to find out.” Bucky grumbles, already launching himself out of the car. His heart thuds to a stop when he sees your luggage in the back seat, empty energy drink cans littering the floor. He waves them over. 

 “This it?” Tony asks. 

 “Yeah, pull up that fancy camera hacking thing and follow her. See if she’s inside the school so we don’t have to spend hours walking around looking for her.” Bucky says. 

 Tony pulls out his tablet, sets it on the dark hood of the car and types a few command strokes. Bucky hovers over his shoulder, breathing down his neck, really irritating the older man. 

 “Back off, man.” Tony elbows his ribs uselessly as the cameras rewind. He might as well have hit a brick for all the pain it causes him. There are several different angles across the massive parking lots and the interior courtyards. Plus the interior hallways and classrooms. There’s almost too much to watch, but they have to. 

 Tony finds your car pulling in and he slows down to watch where you park. It’s a tense silence as they watch you get out, heading across the lot before someone cuts you off. He blocks out the rest of the screens, making this one camera the focus. 

 Bucky’s stomach seems to fill with lead as you take off running, despite how exhausted you must feel. The man chases you, but Bucky can see what you can’t. You’re not running away, you’re being herded. Another man, massive compared to you, grabs you from behind-a blitz attack-and he smashes your head into the hood of another car. It’s hard enough of a hit to leave a dent in the car. 

 It’s an extremely good thing that Bucky isn’t holding onto anything, or he would have broken it. 

 Before he can even speak, Tony is already working. A car pulls up and you’re loaded inside. Tony captures the license plate and dismisses the camera, opting for another program. 

 Bucky paces behind his friends, knowing anything he would say isn’t going to be helpful. His mind is racing, faster than he can even process what exactly he’s thinking. 

 You should have come to him. You should have trusted him. How can you love him and not trust him? Of all the things he wants to say to you, this thought burns hardest in his throat. 

 What were you thinking?

 “What do you think they want with her?” Sam frowns, glancing at both of them. 

 “Revenge.” Bucky mutters, his skin turning cold at the thought of you being hurt by their hands. 

 “The file.” Tony offers as an alternative. “Maybe they think she has another copy of it, or access to it again. Might buy her some time.” He glanced at Bucky, but he hardly hears him. 

 “Where is she, Stark?” Bucky asks tersely. 

 “Cameras are following their car, and I’m running facial recognition.” Tony says, but it doesn’t really soothe Bucky. 

 “Here. Get in. We can follow the map they’re making and maybe meet them there.” Sam suggests, taking the keys. 

 Tony climbs in the front seat where Bucky had been, Sam drives and Bucky sits in the back, his nerves ratcheting higher with every passing second that he’s not smashing their faces in. 

 “Got them.” Tony comments, typing furiously on his keyboard. The constant clicking is begging to grate on Bucky’s last nerve. 

 Sam follows the route highlighted on the dash screen, and at least he’s driving like a human. You’ve been in their grasp too long and it’s making Bucky irrationally anxious to not be able to see you. It’s strange that just ten hours ago, he never wanted to see you again. Now he can’t wait to get you back in his hands. 

 “There’s an old camera system in the building that they took her to. It’s half an hour away and they have a bit of a head start. I’m back hacking it now.” Tony says. 

 “You know no one says that anymore, right? No one calls it hacking. And back hacking is hacking someone that already hacked you.” Sam squints at him suspiciously. “Do you even know what a computer is?” He asks, swerving around a car going much too slow in the zoom-zoom lane. 

 “Better than you do, Bird Brain.” Tony snaps. “Got it.” The display changes and Bucky stares in horror. Sam inches the needle towards 100. 

 ***

 The thud pulses in your ears as the buzzing sting spreads slowly across your cheek. Another thud, more stinging as the blood surges to the surface of your face. The restraints around your wrists pull roughly as you’re shifted in the metal chair. 

 You don’t make a sound, happy to take this punishment. You deserve this for hurting Bucky, and if they’re this mad-they couldn’t recover the missing parts of the file. Even better. 

 “Where’s the rest of it?” The leader sighs, pacing behind his man. His fingers are steepled against the bridge of his nose as he sighs loudly. “I was told that Stark had a fully functional, working blueprint. What you gave me is useless.”

 His brute swings his open hand again, the force of his slap twisting your head to the side. Your eyes water and your cheek heats up to the point of burning. The man grabs a fistful of your hair and turns your head back to face forward with a low chuckle. Your face feels heavy, sluggish as the excess blood rushes there.

 “Where’s the rest of it?” The leader demands. You remain silent, willing to take the pain. Nothing can be worse than the feeling of being forced to betray Bucky. He sighs loudly, nodding to someone off to your left. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna go back to Stark’s lab. You’re gonna get the full file. You’re gonna promptly deliver it back to me.”

 “No.” You say simply. 

 “No? That’s funny. It sounds like you think you have a choice.” He tilts his head and another man steps forward. This new man, half hidden in shadows, takes a drag off a cigarette, the burning end flaring bright burnt orange in the darkness. With an exhale of smoke, the shadow man presses the cigarette to the fleshy underside of your forearm. 

 You grit back a scream, but as he twists it in the raw wound, it’s too much and the sound rips from your throat. 

 “We’ll give you some time to reconsider your choice.” The leader sneers, nodded to the others.  They exit, leaving you alone with the shadow man. 

 He lights the cigarette again, the smell of your flesh burning floats around you, making you sick. He doesn’t ask you any questions, doesn’t talk to you. He just puts out the cigarette on your skin, any exposed spot he can find. 

 He braces his hands on your burned forearms, squeezing tightly. You scream again, the tears falling freely. You can admit it hurts, but you still won’t give them what they want. 

 You can’t. 

 He chuckles, blowing the smoke in your face as the bright ember flares just inches from your face. Slowly, he removes the cigarette trapped between his lips and floats his hand around, trying to decide where to burn you next. 

 “Ah.” He smiles softly, brushing hair back from your neck carefully, almost tenderly. You try to contain the whimper, but fail miserably. He pulls down the neck of your shirt, exposing your collarbone before pushing the burning point to the flesh just below. 

 You scream, thrashing against your restraints. You sob, trying to breathe against it. Doesn’t matter what they do to you, you won’t do what they want. 

 The door opens behind him and another man steps through. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I don’t know how people can be cannibals. The smell is awful.” He laughs, clapping your torturer on the shoulder. “Brought you some more tools.” He places more cigarette cartons in the man’s hand. You whimper involuntarily and he grins, looking down at you. 

 “Ready to make a deal, sweetheart?” He asks lightly. You spit your answer at his feet. “Perfect. I love when they scream.” He shifts your shirt, his eyes turning thoughtful. “Well, she needs to be symmetrical. Every work of art is symmetrical, and you, my friend, are nothing if not an artist.” He smirks, stepping back. 

 The shadow man lights up again, taking a couple puffs before pressing it to your skin again, this time under your opposite collarbone. 

 Another scream tears through your lips as you fight against him with his rough hands and disgusting pleasure at your pain. 

 “Oh, one last one before we call the boss in, huh?” The newcomer suggests, pulling a cigar case out of his pocket. “It’s Cuban.” He teases, holding it out like an offering. 

 The shadow man takes it with a crooked grin and snips the end, smelling it appreciatively. He lights the end and takes a big drag off it. Your heart pounds erratically in your chest. This one is so much bigger than the others, a nickel compared to a pencil eraser. 

 He bites the end between his teeth and motions to his friend for a pair of scissors. His friend pulls out a pocket knife and the fear spikes through you for real this time. You thought they just wanted to torture you into compliance, but if they were planning something worse, you couldn’t fight against them killing you. 

 He bends over in front of you, ashes falling on your thighs. He taps the sharp blade against your right thigh, and then your left, as though unable to decide. He taps your right palm, his eyes widening in mock fear. Then he taps your left palm, nicking the heel of your hand. Then he drags the tip lightly up your arm, inside your elbow, up to your shoulder.

 The blade is next to your thudding pulse and all it would take it just one quick flick and you’d be dead. 

 But instead, he drags the tip along your collarbone and down along your sternum. One thrust and it would puncture your heart. Lights out. No more Y/N. You would never be able to tell Bucky how sorry you are, or how much you love him. 

 But you saved his sister. You can rest in peace with that knowledge. 

 You close your eyes, fixing Bucky’s beautiful face in front of you so he’s the last thing you see. 

 The tip of the blade presses into your sternum, breaking through the fabric of your shirt. But instead of going further, he holds that delicate balance. 

 And then he slides the blade up, slicing through your shirt like a hot knife through butter. He yanks when it gets to the seam at the collar, clipping your chin with the end of it. 

 You yelp in surprise at not being dead and blood drips from your chin. He puffs a few more times on the cigar before spreading your ripped shirt and pressing between the valley of your breasts. 

 You scream through a sob as he burns you, holding the extinguished cigar in your wound. The door opens and the leader steps through, wiping his hands dry. 

 “How’s our guest? Ready to reconsider?” He asks pleasantly. 

 Rage makes you spiteful. You can’t wait to throw anything you can in his face. 

 “Doesn’t matter what I say. You blew your shot.” You laugh, slightly hysterical. “Barnes knows what I did. I’m never getting near that building again. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Not for you, not for the next scumbag, or the next one. You might as well just kill me. I should have told you that from the beginning.” You slump back in your seat, shivering slightly at the clammy sweat that’s broken out across your skin from the torture. 

 Oh, how you wish you’d been strong enough to tell him to fuck off from the start. You might be a day late and a dollar short, but you’ll be damned if you don’t do the right thing this time. 

 Bucky will know about his sister by now, she’ll be safe and protected, him by her side where he should be. 

 Your brother... your eyes fill reluctantly with tears as you think about your younger brother, just starting his life. He’s smart, hopefully smart enough to stay away from this mess, no matter what happens to you now. 

 “There are plenty of other people to do your job.” He snarls, reaching into his jacket. He pulls out a large silver gun, a revolver as far as you can tell. “See this?” He asks, pointing the barrel right between your eyes. You can feel the cold from the metal, just centimeters from your skin. 

 “Hard not to.” You manage.

 “It’s my favorite. Smith and Wesson’s 460XVR 45 Colt. Gonna leave a hole the size of a potato in the back of your head from this distance.” He hefts the gun experimentally and you try not to flinch, his finger too close to the trigger for comfort. He turns to look at his men. “Feels a little unsportsmanlike to shoot a girl like this, doesn’t it?”

 “A bit, boss.” 

 He turns back to me. “So, let’s play a game. I’m sure you’re familiar.” He releases the cylinder and dumps out the bullets. Your stomach flip flops uncomfortably. 

 He’s gonna drag this out as long as possible. It’s still part of the torture. He holds up one bullet and slides it in, snapping the cylinder shut as he spins it. 

 “How about it? Feel like getting my file now?” He asks, leveling the gun back at your forehead. 

 You close your eyes, picturing Bucky’s face. The way he kissed you before everything went to shit, the smile he’d save just for you. 

 The hammer clicks, but nothing happens. Empty. Tears slip out, stinging the cuts on your cheek, and you have another moment to remember how much you love Bucky Barnes. His beautiful blue eyes, his perfect lopsided smile, his laugh.

 “How about now?” The cruel voice demands. 

 You murmur Bucky’s name. A quiet prayer, something beautiful and bright among the darkness surrounding you. You can almost feel his soft hair under your fingertips as he kissed you against your front door that last night. The night he told you he loved you. 

 Click.

 Another moment spared. The man chuckles, gripping your chin tightly and your entire face throbs in pain. “Your luck is running out, little girl. Make your choice.” He snarls. 

 “I have. You lose.” You sigh, eyes still closed. “Bucky, I love you.” You barely whisper, lips moving just a fraction. You don’t say it for anyone else, just yourself. 

 Bucky will never know. You’ll die here, with him thinking you were a cold hearted bitch. And that’s okay, because you were able to give him his family back. And you can live with that. So to speak. He might never even know you’re dead. Just that you left. 

 And that’s okay, too. Better really for him to move on. 

 The cold muzzle and front sight press roughly against your forehead, tearing at the skin there. 

 “I don’t lose.” He growls. 

 There’s a loud banging noise, making you jump. The gun disappears from your face and it takes you a long second to realize you’re not dead. And then to realize there’s a violent fight progressing in front of you. 

 Slowly you open your eyes to see three familiar men fighting your three torturers. Sam is fighting the shadow man, Tony-his companion. Bucky is fighting the leader, with the gun. 

 Bucky’s metal hand is holding onto the wrist with the gun while his right hand is trying to strike at the man with a long, silver knife. The man backs up quickly, trying to stay out of the reach of the wicked knife, but he trips, falling backward and taking Bucky with him, the gun between them. 

 There’s a muffled boom, like a cannon and both men freeze on the floor. You scream for Bucky, fighting against your restraints, unable to move, unable to check on him, sobbing with fear and frustration. 

 Slowly, unsure, he lifts himself up, glancing down at his chest, hole-free. Carefully, he walks over to you, kneeling in front of you as both Sam and Tony subdue their adversaries. 

 He’s okay. He’s alive. 

 He cups your face gently, like he’s cradling a delicate bubble. Carefully, softly, he brushes away your tears before cutting your wrists free. His eyes linger on the burns, a dozen on each arm and you pull them back from his inspection. The movement hurts, but no worse than seeing his face, knowing what he must think of you. 

 “Why are you here?” You ask quietly. 

 “I thought I made myself pretty clear.” He frowns. “I distinctly remember saying I love you.” He smiles gently. 

 “You’re supposed to be with your sister. She needs you.” You protest. “You’re not... you shouldn’t... not after what I did. I’m not...” you trail off, your throat tight as a tidal wave of emotions crash over you. 

 “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay. We can talk about this later. We need to get you looked at.” He shakes his head. He holds out his hand for me to take, but you can’t bear it, so you use the arms of the chair to push yourself up. You sway on the spot, your body aching, dizzy with pain. 

 Bucky catches you before you can fall, lifting you gently, holding you against his broad chest. You close your eyes, trying to fight the tears as he carries you out of the building behind his two friends. Sam and Tony are leading our their prisoners, taking a certain amount of pleasure each time they trip. 

 “You needed me more.” He whispers after a minute. 

 “What?” You frown.

 “You said Becky needed me. But you needed me more.” His eyes drop to your neck, the burns there and your split shirt. A growl rumbles low in his chest and he shifts you closer. 

 He sets you carefully in the back seat, climbing in next to you. He pulls you against his side and you resist slightly, feeling guilty. You were cruel to him. He shouldn’t just forgive you, not like that. You betrayed his trust, took his heart and threw it back in his face. You don’t deserve him, his love, his comfort, or his forgiveness. 

 “Y/N?” He starts quietly as Sam and Tony cram the two men into the trunk, lingering behind the car. Probably to give you some privacy. 

 “How can you stand to be near me? After what I said to you... you should’ve just let me...” you squeeze your eyes shut, so you miss him flinch. 

 “At first, I was just gonna pretend you did. But then Tony found out what you did to the file. He’s the one who figured it out, what was really going on. And then Becky called. She really likes you.” He says with a fond smile. “We were already on our way to Florida to get you. I’m sorry we were almost too late.” He whispers, his thumb brushing your cheek again. 

 “How did you find me?” You ask, anything to keep him talking. 

 “Tony found out where they had taken you and got into the camera system. We tuned in just in time to see the cigarettes...” his jaw locks shut for a moment and you can feel him struggling. “I nearly lost my mind when he pulled out the gun.”

 Sam and Tony climb back in,  effectively cutting off your conversation. Bucky tries one more time to hold you, but you can’t let him. The image of his face as he left your motel room haunts you. 

 You don’t deserve him, no matter your reasons for doing what you did. There’s a special place in hell for hurting someone as good as Bucky. 

 “Samuel, to the airport, please.” Tony says pompously. He flips down his visor and catches your eye, smiling. “Do you drive in Florida a lot?” He asks randomly. 

 “I grew up here.”

 “How did you survive? The roads down here are insane.”

 “Says the guy who lives in the city with some of the worst drivers in the world.” You return, your heart not really into the banter. 

 “Your brother’s safe.” Bucky mumbles, his hand twitching towards you. “We alerted the police.”

 You glance back at him and nod before turning to look out the window. You just need a minute alone, to think, to process, to cry. You need to figure out what to say to Bucky so he can see that he needs to leave. 

 ***

 The jet isn’t spacious enough to give you space, and they never leave your side at the airport. 

 Bucky sits next to you on the plane, keeping you far from the two men. That’s easy, you want to be around them just as much as he wants you around them. 

 You can feel him staring at you, the words bubbling up to your memory easily, but you don’t want to say them. 

 The plane lands at JFK and he sighs softly, helping you stand. He leads you out to one of the two waiting cars. You glance back at Tony and Sam, but they’re already getting into the other car with their prisoners. 

 “Guess you’re stuck with me.” Bucky says off-handedly. 

 “Other way around.” You say, climbing in. You start to pull the door closed but he catches it easily. 

 “Y/N. I know why you did what you did. I know it wasn’t your fault, or your choice. I can’t imagine what you went through, being forced to do all that. Because I know how you really feel. And right now, yeah, you feel like shit. It’s understandable. And that’s okay. Because I’m gonna be here to help you through it. When the nightmares start, and the panic attacks, and when you feel like you can’t stand under the weight of it all. I’m gonna be here. Because I do love you. And you might not be ready to forgive yourself yet. But I am.” He cups your face, swiping away your tears. 

 “You can’t.” You manage, trying to catch your breath. “Don’t you understand? If it happened once, it can happen again. I’m a liability to you, to Tony, to what you do.”

 “Bullshit. Because next time, you’re just gonna come to me and trust me to keep everyone safe. Do you even understand the amount of people at my disposal? I can call on fifty men right now to go sit on my sister’s place. And another hundred to protect your brother. And still have plenty to protect you.” His hands trail down your neck and his shoulders visibly tense. “I need to get you checked out. Then I can breathe.” He mutters, backing away and shutting your door. He walks around and climbs in next to you, taking your hand. The car starts moving and you stare at him, feeling a bit of wonder at this man. 

 “What?” He asks, a small smile on his face. 

 “You know it’s not because I didn’t trust you, right? There’s nobody I’d trust more.”

 “So, why not come to me?” He frowns. 

 “I was afraid. I was afraid for my brother, for your sister, for you. Bucky, you’ve tried to hard to shed your past, to stop all the hurt and nightmares that Hydra caused. I didn’t want to start that cycle again. You’re so good, you deserve so much. And I hate myself for what I said to you, I truly do. But I couldn’t put you in that position to be used again.”

 “Sweetheart, I would go through all of that just to have you by me again.”

 “You’re certifiable.” You mutter, turning to lean back against him. He wraps his arm around you, under your arms so he doesn’t hurt you, but otherwise remains silent. 

 ***

 There’s a knock on the med room door, and you look up from your crossword puzzle to see Bucky poke his head in. 

 “Aren’t you sick of me yet?” You sigh, setting your book and pen on the side table. 

 “Nope. So, it looks like you’re free to go.” He says happily, rocking back on his heels.

 “I am?” You ask, surprised. 

 “Yup, they said there’s no infections in your burns, and the hairline fracture in your cheekbone healed just fine.” He smiles, crossing the room. 

 You frown as reality settles over you. “Um,” you drop your gaze to your lap.

 “What is it?” He takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

 It’ll be fine. Tony has given you the best security around. Your apartment is safe. “Nothing. Just dawned on me that you won’t be right down the hall anymore.” You shrug. 

 He grins. “You love me.”

 “You’re an idiot.” You roll your eyes. 

 “True.” He lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing it and inhaling deeply. “Whenever you’re ready, I can take you home.” He promises. 

 “Right.” You let his play with your fingers for a little longer, procrastinating to the fullest extent. “How’s your sister?” You ask and he smiles. 

 “She’s good. Demanding that I bring you to dinner.” His grin widens, as his nose skims along the soft flesh of your wrist. “Threatened to disown me if I didn’t. Apparently, you made quite the impression.”

 “I’m happy to go, with or without you.” You tease and he laughs. 

 “I’m not surprised.” He kisses the back of your hand one more time before setting it on your leg. “Go get dressed, doll. I’ll be right here.” He says.

 You sigh dramatically and swing your feet over the edge of the bed. You can do this. It’ll be okay. 

 ***

 The creaking of the elevator sets your nerves on fire. You clench your jaw as the numbers climb. Only Bucky’s hand in yours keeps you from hyperventilating all together. 

 You can do this. You’re an adult. 

 Bucky unlocks your door for you, holding it open for you to step inside. You hesitate for a moment and his smile tightens. He steps inside first, walking through and opening doors. He makes quick work of checking your whole apartment before coming back to you. 

 “Clear.” He promises. 

 Your vision gets blurry, but you fight the tears, forcing yourself to step across the threshold. How can you trust this place? How can this be home ever again?

 “Let me show you the security system. I know Tony explained it, but it’s a lot to take in.” He says, wrapping you in his big arms. 

 “I’ll say.” Your forehead furrows together. 

 “He wanted you to be safe.” He turns you to the front door. “This camera allows you to see who’s outside. But, it has a camera facing inside, too. You can control that from your phone, so you can see if anyone has broken in.” He explains quietly, burying his nose in your hair. “There’s a panic button in each room. You hit that button and help is on the way.” 

 Bucky takes you through the apartment, showing you exactly how safe Tony has made it for you. And it helps... a bit. 

 But really, what you see is the kitchen chair you were tied to while people you care about were threatened. 

 However, Stark went to a lot of effort. And you know if you don’t at least give it a go, he’s going to whine and complain. 

 Bucky finished his tour back at the front door. This doesn’t feel right. You frown. 

 “Did you wanna stay? I can make dinner.” You offer hopefully. 

 “Sorry, doll. We have a mission.” He says, pulling you close. “I’ll come see you when I get back, okay?”

 You nod, heart sinking. “Stay safe.” You mumble and he gently puts his finger under your chin, tilting your face up. 

 “Can I please, pretty please, have a smile? I need to see it.” He begs and despite how hard you want to resist, you can’t. 

 The corners of your mouth tug up and ride even further in response to his own teasing smile. 

 “There she is.” He sighs happily. “I love you so much. I’ll call you later.” He kisses you slowly, pulling you closer until he breaks away, his eyes slightly unfocused. 

 “Sure you can’t stay?” You sigh. 

 He chuckles. “Positive. I can’t miss this one.” He backs up to the door, holding your hand, unwilling to let go. 

 “You’re not leaving.” You remind him, secretly happy that it’s as hard for him as it is for you.

 “I’m not? Feels like I have already.” He grins. 

 “I love you.” You mumble softly, trying to force the tears to stay in the back where they belong, at least until he leaves. 

 “Just what I needed to hear.” He smiles. 

 You roll your watery eyes and push him out into the hallway. “I don’t need Tony any angrier at me than he already is.” You stick your tongue out and shut the door in his face. Otherwise you’d never be able to let him go. 

 He knocks on the door and you press the speaker. “Go away.”

 “I miss you already.” He says.

 “Don’t make me call Sam.” 

 You can hear his answering laugh and then his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

 You can do this. You have Bucky. Everything else will get better with time, and help, and support. 

 Everything Tag List:

@everythingisoverrated @psyched2b @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @elliee1497@ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @scarlettwitcher@thirstybitchqueen @xxloki81xx @stuckonjbbarnes @barnesandco​ @geeksareunique​ @nicoleplacee​ @lexshead​ @gambitsqueen​@sebbbystaaan​ @lokisironthrone​ @imanuglywombat​ @also-fangirlinsweden​@ravenesque​ @murdermornings​

#lyn2k #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader oneshot #reader insert #marvel #writing challenge #mermaidxatxheart-writes #bucky x reader

[just-the-hiddles]

A Cold Dish | Loki x Reader

A/N: This is my entry for @coffee-with-bucky  2k writing challenge!  My prompt was:  “Are those donuts?” / “Consider them a bribe.” I loved writing this one. 

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Sam and the reader are engaged in an all out prank war.  The reader tries to recruit Loki to help get you get even!

Warnings: maybe some cursing, implied smut if you look hard.  

Word Count: 2075

Whole Enchilada Tag List: @winterisakiller @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @pinkzz123 @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish @rjohnson1280 @the-minus-four @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen @coppercorn-and-cauldron @gerli49 @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @snoopy3000 @voila-tout @kitkatd7 @wolfsmom1 @queenoftheunderdark @xxloki81xx @thewaithfuckingannoyme @kcd15 @amirra88 @tomhiddles2 @malkaviangirl @evanlys19 @thejemersoninferno @sadwaywardkid @is-it-madness @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @outlandishponderings @peterman-spideyparker @caffiend-queen

God of Mischief Tag List: @drakesfiance @obtain-this-grain @theoneanna @vodka-and-some-sass @brucestephenbucky @lokilover2000 @lokixme @jade10077 @disconnectedswift @bluefrenchfries604 @myraiswack @jeffreydohmerthehumannommer @rosierossette @lots-of-loki @cateyes315 @readsalot73 @villainousshakespeare

Story list: @bambamwolf87​ @cateyes315​ @gingerkittenmistress​ @sadchickenstuff​ @sassybouquetrunaway-universe​ @brokenthelovely​ @chezagnes​

Untaggables: @ciaodarknessmyheart @jumpxjess @bitchcraft-at-its-finest @hrtsgetbrkn 

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN, JUST LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO A LIST!!

-

You never meant for it to get this out of hand. You just wanted a bit of fun. Now you stood in the living area of Avengers Tower, fully dressed, dripping water on the floor. You made a beeline for the man draped over the sofa, watching the TV.

“SAM!” you bellowed once you reach him.

“Why are you are all wet?” he responded with the smallest twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. “And all over my pants?! I have somewhere to be later.” He brushed nonexistent drops of his jeans.

“I know it was you!” your nostrils flared.

“What do you mean?” Sam smiled up at you. “I have been here all afternoon. Isn’t that right, Steve?”

Steve looked over to the two of you and furrowed his eyebrows. “For the last time, I am not getting involved in this prank war.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nice assist, man. I hide your ass from HYDRA and you can’t even lie about a little water.”

“One!” You stabbed your finger at Sam. “One prank birthday card and I deserve the Great Flood in my bedroom?”

“You started it,” Same rose from the couch, brushing past you, “You can finish it.”

He disappeared from view, and you flopped onto the couch, throwing daggers at Steve.

“Sorry, kid. I’ve fought enough wars to recognize when to stay out of the firefight.”

He left too, slapping you on the shoulder.

You glanced around for any other potential allies. “Loki!” you screamed as you scrambled off the couch to approach the Asgardian as he entered the kitchen.

“I beg the pardon. To what do I owe the joy of you screeching my name as you come hurtling towards me?”

“Help me get even with Sam.” you gasped.

“Absolutely not.”

You stomped your foot. “Aren’t you supposed to be the God of Mischief? This is right up your alley.”

“And yet, I am saying no.” Loki poured himself a glass of water and took a long sip.

“Why the hell won’t you help me?”

Loki tilted his head as he contemplated your words. “What can I say? I’m mercurial.” He walked back towards his living quarters.

“I thought you were my friend!” you yelled after him.

He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “I don’t have friends.” he deadpanned as he moved out of sight.

-

You spent the rest of the week on edge, sneaking into rooms and looked at everyone with suspicion. You weren’t sleeping.

Early Sunday morning, you knocked on Loki’s door. You spun the oversized pink box in your hands. Loki whipped open the door with such force, you took a step back.

“What on earth can you possibly want at this ungodly hour?” he grumbled as he hitched his low slung pajamas onto his hip.

“I need your help.” you responded, pushing past him and into his living quarters.

Your eyes darted around the cluttered space. Clothes and dishes littered every flat surface of the small space. You wrinkled your nose.

“Ugh, ever heard of a washing machine?” You pushed a pile of clothes with your toe.

“I’m a god and a prince. Of course not.” Loki deadpanned. You rolled your eyes. “Now if you are done insulting my domestic skills…” He motioned to the door. “… I was sleeping.”

“But I need your help!” you pleaded as put the pink box on the small spot on the counter that was clear.

Loki stepped toe to toe with you. If you leaned forward, you could fall against his chest. Which would not be the worst thing. You often wondered how it would feel curled against Loki’s chest.

“Is this about your ridiculous prank war with Sam?” Loki sneered. “I believe I have made my intentions cle—”

“I’m willing to pay you for your services.” you blurted. When Loki’s face lit up and his eyebrows raised in interest.

“I’m listening.” He leaned against the counter, nudging the pink box. He looked down at the pink teetering on the edge. “Are those donuts?”

You pushed the donuts towards him. “Consider them a bribe.”

Loki lifted the lid and inhaled the sweet smell of sugar and dough. You smiled as he delicately selected a chocolate cake donut.

“When do we start?” He took a big bite of donut and smiled.

-

As the days passed, and you failed to retaliate for his latest prank, Sam peeked around corners and jumped at every noise. AT night he slept with a water gun under his pillow.

When he dragged himself into the kitchen, you were sitting at the counter sipping your coffee.

“Morning, Sam.” you chirped.

“Humph.” he grunted as he fumbled for a coffee mug. “Why are you so cheerful?” He squinted as you shrugged your shoulders. “What did you put in the coffee?”

Your lips curled into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Nothing.”

Steve wandered into the kitchen and rolled his eyes at the showdown between the two of you as he grabbed the milk from the fridge.

“Morning Steve.” you greeted.

“Morning.” He grabbed the coffee pot but Sam snatched it out of his hands.

“Don’t drink the coffee, man! She…” he jabbed a finger at you. “put something into it!”

You reeled back in mock shock. “I did nothing of the sort! These are false allegations!!”

“I’ll just get coffee downstairs.” Steve replaced the milk in the fridge and backed out of the kitchen.

Sam dumped the coffee down the drain, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. You ate your breakfast in silence as Sam brewed more coffee.

POOF! As he opened the fridge to grab his creamer, a cloud of bright blue powder engulfed Sam’s face.

“The Smurf look is good for you.” you chuckled as you put your dishes in the sink.

“This is too far!!” he yelled, his nostrils flaring.

You slammed your hands down. “Watch yourself, Wilson! There’s no way I could have done this. Steve already opened the fridge, and I didn’t move!”

Sam opened his mouth to hurl more insults at you. “You… wait… You’re right.” His eyebrows furrowed as he confronted you. “How did you manage it?”

“Manage what?” you spat back. You shove his shoulder.

Sam thought and then snapped his fingers. “Your little friend, Loki. He’s helping you.”

“Loki doesn’t have friends.” You walked away, desperate to end the conversation. “Good luck getting that out of your hair.”

You waited until your door clicked shut before bursting into laughter. A flash of light appeared beside you.

“I take from your laughter, my trick worked as planned.” Loki draped himself over your couch.

“It was brilliant! How did you manage to not have that thing explode onto Steve?” You collapsed beside him. Your heart beat faster as his fingers brushed against your thigh.

Loki shook his head. “A simple spell.” He waved his hand in the air. “Child’s play.”

You turned to glance at him. “What do you have planned next?” In planning this whole ordeal, you gave Loki carte blanche.

“Where would be the fun in that, love?” Loki whispered in your ear. A shiver run down your spine at his silken tone.

You squirmed in your seat. “Fine, have your secrets.” You bounced up. “Now if you don’t mind…” you gestured towards the door. “… I would like to take a shower and get ready for the day.”

Loki crossed his impossibly long legs at the knee. “I don’t mind at all.” He stared at you and smirked.

“Hilarious. Now leave please so I can get undressed.” Your cheeks hot in embarrassment and arousal.

Loki rose from the couch. “I could help. As a friend.” His finger trailed down the side of your arm.

You walked him back towards the door. “I thought you didn’t have friends.” You opened the door and shoved him into the hallway. It took ten minutes for your heart rate to slow.

Loki stumbled into Tony, who was engrossed in whatever was on his phone. Tony regained his balance and sized up Loki. “Better luck next time, Reindeer Games.” He continued without bothering to look up.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki yelled after him but he didn’t respond.

-

Sam was on high alert as he strolled into the conference room. You sat towards the front room.

“Hey Sam!” You waved him to the seat next to you. “I saved you a seat.” You spied the tiniest hint of blue in his hairline.

“I’ll stand thank you very much.” He groaned as he leaned against the glass windows.

Tony strolled in. “Alright team, we got a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time.” Tony waved at Sam. “Birdman…” Sam rolled his eyes. “… come sit down…” he pointed the seat next to you. “… here.”

“I’d rather stand, Tin Man.”

Tony threw a look that offered no room for further negotiation and Sam slinked towards the front of the room. He spent the entire meeting on the edge of his chair. You took full advantage by shaking his seat with your foot every so often. Sam yelped every time and Tony scowled your way.

“Alright, meeting adjourned.” He slammed his fists on the table.

He stopped you and Sam from leaving. “I don’t understand what’s going on between the two of you, but it ends today.” He gestured as though he was keeping eyes on you.

Sam turned to you. “You heard the man, it’s done.”

“It’s done when I say it’s done.”

“Come on!!” he yelled. “I can’t continue to live like this!”

“Next time, don’t freeze all my underwear!”

-

Later that evening, you spied Sam playing video games on the couch. You walked toward the kitchen to grab a snack when someone pulled into a small closet off to the side.

“Shh!” Loki shushed you as his hand remained tight around your waist. “You’ll ruin it.”

You struggled against his grip but not too much. “Ruin what?”

“The grand finale.” Loki raised a knowing eyebrow.

He turned your head to spy Sam, getting ready to take a bite of his dinner. As the food hit his lips, he threw the fork down. “Son of a bitch!”

Loki chuckled behind you, his chest rumbling against your back. “Now watch this.” He flicked his wrist.

Sam took another tentative bite. The spoon stuck fast to his lips. “What the hell?” He ran to the kitchen and poured hot water on the spoon, releasing it from his face.

“LOKI! I know this is you, you horny bastard!”

“And now for the final blow.” Loki commented, waving his hand one more time.

Sam sat up rod straight. “What the… Oh hell no!” he stood up with a jolt. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Loki gestured to keep watching.

Sam tugged at his shirt, pulling it up over his head. He scratched up and down his torso. Before long, Sam tugged on the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Jesus…” he cursed as he scratched his legs through the fabric. “Come on!!” He ripped the pants down, standing in his boxers with his pants pooled around his ankles.

Steve turned around the corner, he stopped mid-bite to stare at Sam.

“Man, I don’t even want to know. You need help.” He hightailed it out of the room, giving Sam some serious side eye.

You burst into loud laughter and Sam whipped around toward your laugh. “I KNEW IT!!” He stomped towards the closet. Loki pulled you against his chest. “Hold on.”

The two of you disappeared in a flash of light as Sam opened the door.

“I couldn’t have done this without you.” You hugged Loki tight as the two of you re-materialized in Loki’s quarters.

“He’s not wrong, you know?” Loki whispered in your ear as his arms held tight to your waist, gripping your shirt.

“That you were behind all of it. Of course he’s right, you were brilliant.”

“Not just that.” Loki’s lips grazed behind your ear. “my dear friend.”

You inhaled a sharp breath. “But you don’t have friends. You said so yourself.” you stuttered.

Loki licked his lips. “I don’t. But paramours, lovers.” Your mouth dropped open. “That’s an entirely different matter.”

Your lips crashed against his. Loki sighed against you as he tugged at your shirt.

“I think I can live with that.” you said with a smile on your face. Loki smiled back as he pulled you onto the couch.

#lyn2k #loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction

[randomparanoid]

Perfume

A/N: This was written for @coffee-with-bucky​ 2k writing challenge. Congratulations on the milestone Lyn, you deserve it!  ♡ ♡ I had object prompt Perfume, so I decided to name the fic like that. Hope you like it  ♡ Feedback will be greatly appreciated. (: 

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 1355

Warnings: ANGST

Loki was laying in his bed in an apartment in New York, he had his eyes closed, but he was far from sleep. He was remembering. Soaking himself in the scent of the pillow he had tightly hugged to his chest. 

**

He had been walking for hours, after leaving Odin on earth. He thought he would simply drop him and be back in Asgard in seconds, but for some reason he stayed. He walked aimlessly, a million thoughts crossing his mind, some of them were about what he would do now that he will be on the throne. 

You were distracted and running because, again, for the third day in a row you were late for your class. You were thinking that maybe if you lived on campus you would actually get to classes on time. Checking if you had all the correct material in your bag, while running was a hazardous activity, specially for someone so clumsy as you, but you did it anyway. For your bad luck, the few seconds your eyes strayed away from your path, someone decided it was a good time to stop suddenly and you ended up bumping with them, throwing them off balance and you full on hitting the ground. Your papers all fell out of your bag and your were flustered. 

“I’m so, so sorry.” You said without looking up, trying desperately to grab your stuff before the wind blew it all away. When you finally got up and gave the stranger a look, you almost fell down again. The stranger was Loki, and he looked angered. 

When Loki saw you he opened his mouth but no words came out. He couldn’t believe a human could be so beautiful, though what surprised him the most was your scent. It was a mix between lavender and something sweet and then something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He could had lived so many years already, been in the most varied and gorgeous gardens with flowers you probably have never seen before, yet your scent was something new for him. 

“Don’t - don’t worry.” He said after a while. “Are you alright? That was an awful fall.”

“Oh, this? No, it was nothing, I’m totally fine. I’m used to being this clumsy.” You laughed nervously. It was Loki you were speaking to, and although you felt like you needed to be afraid of him after what happened you weren’t, you found him interesting and misunderstood. And handsome as hell. 

“I’m Loki.” 

“I’m y/n” 

You shook hands and he asked you if he could walk you to wherever you were going. You agreed since it was already way too late for your class, you ended up spending the whole day with him. And after that day he asked you if you could see each other often. 

**

Loki opened his eyes and turned around, seeing in the bedside table one of the pictures of you two together. He sat down and left the pillow to one side, grabbing the framed picture he reminisced about that day, gently caressing your face on the photo. It had been taken one of the days he returned to earth just to see you. After that first day of meeting he couldn’t keep away, and even if his plans for his reign as ‘Odin’ were getting sidetracked he didn’t mind a bit and spent as much time as lohe could with you. That day you had taken him to a fair, you kept saying they were fun and at the top of the ferris wheel you took out your phone and snapped a selfie, you smiling wide and he kissing your cheek, telling you after that he loved the way you smelled. 

That day Loki learned that no matter where you took him or what did you do together, if he was with you he was happy. So he promised to take you to Asgard. He said he just had to sort some stuff first and then he’d take you there. 

**

All he could hear was laughter, so sweet and joyful he couldn’t help but smile. And though he couldn’t see you, he was guided not only by your laugh but with the smell of your perfume, the scent that he loved, it was your mix between lavender and something sweet and then something he had identified as uniquely yours. 

You were running through some gardens outside of Asgard’s castle, mesmerized with every single thing you saw. All of it was new and beautiful to your eyes. You finally stopped running when you got to a clearing, it was kind of hidden and had a rustic wood bench in the middle. You laid down in it. Watching at the sky, it had a pink shade with orangy clouds. 

When Loki reached you, he gently raised your head, sat down and put your head down on his lap. Caressing your hair, he bent down and kissed you. 

“This is so beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here, Loki.”

“Your beauty combines with this place. And your perfume is more amazing than the ones from this flowers." 

You blushed and placed your hand on his cheek, pulling him down for another kiss. 

"I love you, Loki. Bumping into you three years ago was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I love you too, love. Forever.”

**

He got up and went to grab a glass of water. Finishing it in 3 gulps, he left the glass on the sink and went to laid down again on the bed, hugging the pillow tighter than before, closing his  eyes. He tried to sleep, at least just for 5 minutes. He wanted to dream. 

** 

Your perfume hit him as soon as he entered the hospital room. He saw you smiling, despite on the tubes connected to you. 

“I love your smile. It brightens everything up.”

“You make me smile.” You said weakly. 

He sat on the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. It was as cold as his, even colder, and he almost broke down. 

“How are you feeling, y/n?”

“I’m a little cold, and tired, but now that you’re here I feel a lot better.”

“I should’ve been here, love. I’m so sorry.” By now he had unshed tears in his eyes, his mouth quivering a little. 

“No, no, Loki. You had things to do in Asgard and I understand, how could you have known that I was going to get worse?”

“But I knew you were ill and I should’ve never left your side.”

You looked at him and caressed his cheek, “you’re here now that’s all that matters. Come on, give me a kiss.” He bent down and kissed you as softly as he could. When he pulled apart you both had tears in your eyes. “I love you so much, thank you for every little moment.”

“I love you too, love. Forever." 

You closed your eyes and a few seconds later the machine that was monitoring your heartbeat had a flatline and the beeping noise it made was the most horrifying long beep that he could still hear to this day. 

**

He didn’t sleep. 

All he wanted to do was dream of you, see your smile, feel your skin, smell that lovely perfume that he fell in love with. 

All he did instead, was remember, that awful day, that last day he got to be with you. And now he was crying desperately and your scent had faded from everything in your apartment and now it was fading from your pillow, the last thing where it lingered and that he couldn’t stop hugging for more than five minutes. 

He sat up and grabbed the picture again, tear drops falling on the protective glass over it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never told you why I went to Asgard, I didn’t want to give you false hope, I was looking for a way to cure you, love. I should’ve looked harder, I failed you. And now is too late.” His voice broke down and sob escaped his lips.

#lyn2k #writing challenge #marvel writing challenge #marvel #marvel fanfiction #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #fanfic #loki fanfic

[firefly-in-darkness]

Confessions of a Chocolate Thief

Characters: Steve Rogers & Reader, Wanda, Bucky

Prompt: Chocolate

Summary: Someone stole and ate your secret stash of chocolate...

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Fluff.

Beta: the lovely Stace - @princessmisery666​ // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: Congrats on your follower milestone Lyn aka @coffee-with-bucky 

Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Y/N’s dream startled her awake from her afternoon nap; disoriented and confused by the lights flickering at the end of her bed. She uncurled herself from the plush caramel blankets and patted around for the television remote to shut off the soundless screen. She rubbed her bleary eyes and pulled her hair into a messy but successful ponytail. With a frown, she noticed the darkness outside the window and looked to the clock on her bedside table. It was after eight, oops.

A simple half hour nap after a marathon of a mission was Y/N’s plan and clearly another four hours was what she really needed. She shuffled out from underneath her mound of pillows and blankets, tossing the now cold, hot water bottle to the side. It was a bittersweet feeling to be climbing out of the comfort, the memory foam mattress beneath her and the cocoon of blankets on top of her was like a double decker of bliss. But her grumbling stomach forced her from the bed. Y/N’s stretched her arms high above her head, wincing at the pain from her aching muscles.

With her feet placed into the soft slippers, gifted by Pepper, and her body wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown, another gift from Pepper, Y/N left her room with one thing on her mind, something she knew would give her a boost; chocolate. She padded down the hallway and entered the communal kitchen to find some of the Avengers perched on and around the breakfast bar with their beverage of choice, a cup of coffee or herbal tea, chatting amongst themselves.

“Hello sonnaya, are you feeling better?” asked Wanda, her doe eyes brightened with her smile.

Bucky and Steve turned to greet Y/N’s sleepy amble into the room and she waved half-heartedly before grabbing the fold-out step and headed over to the cupboard. She needed her sweet treat before she could form coherent words. She used the step to climb up to the highest shelves, solely focused on her quest to get to her treat.

I know you’re all super soldiers and can fly or whatever but did anyone think that there would be normal sized humans that need to access these when they built this compound?

“What was that sweetheart?” Bucky asked, a smirk on his lips.

Y/N’s head whipped around, a blush staining her cheeks. “Oh did I say that out loud? Sorry.”

Wanda shoved Bucky's arm, “He’s just trying to wind you up princessa.” 

“Oh right, yeah.” Y/N giggled lightly.

Once she had reached into the back of the cupboard to pull out the boring cereal box from the top shelf, Y/N descended the step and placed the box on the counter. She could already taste them; mouth-watering, she thought of breaking the hard shell and the gooey centre spreading over her tongue, it made her lick her lips. The cardboard flaps flicked open as she eagerly tore it open, box lifted and tipped. Nothing. No clang of heavy sweets hitting the countertop. Only empty wrappers of her favourite chocolate fell out like confetti onto the counter.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and she clenched her fists at her side. “Who. Ate. My. Chocolate.”

Bucky raised his hands, surrendering and looking innocent. “I didn’t even know there was chocolate in there.”

Wanda rubbed her hand up and down Y/N’s back, the sensation brought little comfort and she felt worse than before. Anger simmered under her skin, she snickered and muttered to herself about maiming the person that had taken her chocolate.

“Sorry doll, we’ve got to head off but we’ll catch up tomorrow.” Bucky pulled her into a hug, “It’s movie night and your choice.”

Y/N didn't argue that it was actually his choice. He was trying to make her feel better, but it didn’t help. Steve and Bucky left the kitchen and Y/N stared at the discarded wrappers. All the superheroes in the complex and not one of them had the ability to create chocolate. What use were super-soldiers and mind control if they couldn’t transform empty wrappers into her beloved chocolate. The pain in Y/N’s back and stomach eased with Wanda’s strokes.

“Don’t cry, how about I make you some hot chocolate…” 

Wanda guided her to the bar stool and prepared the drink that Y/N knew wouldn’t sate her desire for that chocolate or to find the culprit that had stolen it.

The super soldiers entered the elevator and once the doors were shut, Bucky shoved Steve into the wall,  “You did it, didn’t you? And you didn’t even replace it?!”

“What the hell Bucky?!” Steve raised his arms in defence as his cheeks and ears reddened, “I had the last one today, I couldn’t resist - ow!” Pain rushed from the back of Steve’s head and he rubbed where Bucky had struck him.

Steve rubbed at his scalp and smoothed down his hair, “What was that for?!”

“For being sucha punk, you need to make this better. Now.” Bucky pushed him out of the elevator as the doors slid open and pressed the button to go to another floor.

Steve turned around, “Wait, where are you going?”

“You’re on your own with this one pal. Just think of the ol’ faithful tricks mom used to share with us.” The elevator closed without another word from Bucky.

With coffee in Y/N’s system and some of her anger taken out on a punchbag and a two-hour gym session she felt more alive. She had enjoyed the time out with Natasha, it had helped her to forget about her missing chocolate and the bounty that she was going to put on the chocolate raider’s head. Now all she needed was to shower away the sweat and ease the aches in her muscles. 

An involuntary gasp left her lips as she found Steve perched on the corner of her bed, and then she noticed the room was covered in flowers and boxes of chocolates. “Steve, what-”

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. “I’ve replaced the chocolate in your cereal box and wanted to make it up to you.”

Y/N couldn’t concentrate on his words as she took in the room; an assortment of colours burst from every corner. Vases of tulips in every available colour, sunflowers, red and white roses and daffodils with boxes of chocolates in different sizes; from truffles to sugar coated candy leaning against the bouquets. 

Her eyes finally rounded back to Steve who joined her, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Wow. Erm- thank you.” She stammered as his arms wrapped around her.

Y/N couldn’t help herself and cried into Steve’s shirt. “Sorry, I’m just a little emotional and this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. 

“You deserve it sweetheart.” Steve placed a kiss on her forehead.

Her heart pounded as she felt his lips touch her skin -what is happening right now?!  

Y/N went to breakaway and unravelled her arms, “And I’m a little sweaty and smelly.” 

Steve held her closer, tipped her chin up with his index finger, “I don’t care.”  

She turned away from those blue eyes that sparkled like a galaxy whenever she looked for too long. Shying from the intensity of his gaze and slightly panicking, she buried her head in his chest and he leant his chin on her head. leant her head back on his chest, “Could have just got me another couple of bars.” Her voice and laugh muffled against his body.

“Your reaction was worth it.” Steve grinned and rested his cheek against her head.

Steve’s hand absentmindedly stroked Y/N’s back, and the warmth from his body encouraged a hum of approval. She tilted backwards and grinned up at her favourite super soldier, the chocolate fiasco long forgotten.

“This might be slightly off topic, but is the stealing of chocolate the only reason you did all of this?”

Steve’s smile grew, “Is it that obvious?”

Y/N rose on to her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on his lips, pulled away to smile at him. Steve followed her lips, captured them and deepened the kiss.

Bucky spotted the embrace, smirked to himself as he left them amongst the colourful blooms and sweet treats.

the end.

#lyn2k #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers Fanfic #Steve Rogers Fluff #Steve Rogers

[coffee-with-bucky]

This is absolutely insane. When I reached 1k, I thought to myself, “there’s no way that I would reach another big milestone like this right?” Well, my past self would be freaking out right now and let me tell you my current self is freaking out too. 

I’m just going to get the sappy stuff out of the way and say that I’m truly grateful for those who are following me and for my amazing mutuals. Whether you’re following for my fics or just my blog in general, just thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you all 3000! And with that, I decided to host a writing challenge to celebrate. Below are the rules!

Rules before entering:

You do not need to be following me but I would appreciate it if you did!

Reblog this post!

Any Marvel characters with reader inserts of your choosing (Ex. Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers x reader, etc.)

Any genre of your desire (Ex. Fluff, angst, AU’s, etc.) Smut is included as long as it has the appropriate tagged warnings. 

No underage smut, incest or dub/non-con

Can be written as a drabble, oneshot or series!

No minimum or maximum but if you go over 500 words, please use the ‘Keep Reading’ feature

One prompt per person but you can enter as many times as you like

Send me an ask with what prompt you want

Deadline is July 26th 2020

Use the hashtag #lyn2k and tag me in your work. If I haven’t reblogged it within 24 hours, message me to let me know!

Most importantly have fun with this! If you have any questions don’t be afraid to send an ask or message me!

Dialogue prompts:

“I’m highly suspicious of your sudden urge to be sweet, you know? Very suspicious.” @blue-like-barnes

“Don’t touch the hair!” @buckyofthemyscira w/ Bucky

“You don’t want me. I’m broken.” / “I’m going to spend the rest of my life putting you back together.” @duckqueenzoe

“I’m not some toy you can play with!” @captainscarletwanda w/ Steve

“You’re the only person I know who calls me that. It’s kind of cute.” @barnesnroses

“Are those donuts?” / “Consider them a bribe.” @just-the-hiddles w/ Loki

“Isn’t the thrill of getting caught half of the fun?” @queens-n-roses w/ Bucky

“Did you really think I’d leave without a kiss?” @candy-and-writing w/ Steve

“Get up sleepyhead!” / “5 more minutes…” @honeybucks​

“The truth is I was only using you.” @mermaidxatxheart

“It’s just a bit of blood. I’m fine.” @tonottojobby w/ Rhodey 

“Take my hand.” @obscurilicious

“Stop being seductive.” / “I was being myself, but okay.” @averyrogers83​

“Would you mind helping me with this instead of sitting on your ass?”

“Please don’t panic. If you panic, I panic.” @elatedmarvel w/ Steve

“Wait, did you just call me cute?” @jbbuckybarnes​

“I’m fine.” / “We both know that that isn’t true.” @nekoannie-chan w/ Steve

“I failed you. I failed everyone.” @whistlingwillows​ w/ Bucky 

“In the end we migrate towards comfort. I am my most comfortable around you.” @shakespeareanqueer w/ Peter Parker 

“I can’t believe you remembered.” / “I never forgot.” @hqwkeyes w/ Bucky

“We need to talk about what happened last night.” @imanuglywombat​ w/ Bucky

“Stop treating me like a little kid!” / “You are a little kid.” @iced-capsicle​

“Not only am I deeply in love with you, but you’re also my best friend.” @littledarlinwrites​

“I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.” @tropicalcap

“Don’t act innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago.” @shield-agent78

Object prompts/inspirations:

Honey @annavega333

Leather @ussgallifreyfics w/ Bucky 

Perfume @randomparanoid

Streetlamp @crushedbyhyperbole w/ Bucky & Steve

Coffee @softbiker

Wishing well

Tea @wkemeup​

Treehouse @covenmom w/ Peter Parker

Picture frame @p8tn0lish​ w/ Bucky

Chocolate @firefly-in-darkness​ w/ Steve 

Tagging some mutuals: 

@buckyofthemyscira @honeybucks @ussgallifreyfics @buckyland @scrumptious-delusion @buckychrist @elatedmarvel @sunmoonandbucky​ @notimetoblog @moonbeambucky @bunsterjonez @thosekidswhohuntmonsters @nsfwsebbie @nacho-bucky​ @jupiterbucky​ @delicatelyherdreams​ @mypassionsarenysins​ @stateoflovinged​ @stanning-seb​ @sgtbbarncs​ @quantumarvel​ @spideyjlaw​ @jamesbvck​

#writing challenge #marvel writing challenge #follower milestone #lyn2k #2k followers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #tony stark #peter parker #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #pietro maximoff #clint barton #bruce banner

[nekoannie-chan]

Illusions Masterlist

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

Steve Rogers masterlist.

Steve Rogers X Reader masterlist.

Steve Rogers X Reader series masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

𝘐𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

(𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇/𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈́𝗇 𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾́𝗌)

Summary: From the first moment that Steve saw you, he felt something different, but your brother Brock knew the dangers if you had a relationship with Steve

 Part I

Part II

The following parts will be published in 2022-2023:

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

#jamies500writingchallenge #lyn2k #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x t/n #steve x lectora #steve rogers fic #capitán américa x lectora #capitán américa x t/n #steve x you #writing challenge #steve x y/n #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic #marvel fic #captain america x y/n #marvel fanfiction #captain america #captain america x you #captain america fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader

[averyrogers83writes]

Undercover Sex

Title: Undercover Sex

Authors: Darlin’ & Vixen

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Sam

Rated: Mature NSFW **18+ Only**

Warnings: poly-relationships, sexual tension, language, fluff, sass, good-natured teasing, smut (anal, m/m and f/m), bondage (light bdsm)

Summary: Series where Bucky and Sam both meet the woman of their dreams, but she’s unable to choose between the two men so they decide she doesn’t have to. 

Words: 1783

Squares Filled: Sam & Bucky Bingo: Bondage,  MCU Kink Bingo: Bucky Barnes/Sam Willson   Marvel Polyship Bingo: Red @averyrogers83 and Overstimulation @shield-agent78, Star-Spangled Bingo #SSB2020: Anal @avergyrogers83writes, Sam Wison @buckybarnesbingo​ @shield-agent78​, Avengers Bingo: Free Space @shield-agent78, Soulmates @averyrogers83

Prompts:  @coffee-with-bucky #lyn2k Writing Challenge: “Don’t act all innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago.” @shield-agent78 

Author Notes: Series can be read individually or in order of the series. Two writers who get into too much trouble when they get together to write. 

@caramell0w​ @loricameback​ @hotoffthepressfics​ @buckysforeverprincess​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @chuuulip​

“Agent Banes are you with me?” Bucky’s head snaps up as he glares at Fury. How in the hell did he and Sam get talked into going undercover to find a weapons smuggler? Fury eyes Barnes and Wilson with his one good eye. “Did you hear what I just told you?” He snaps. “Get y/n and find out where they are smuggling the weapons from.” Sam stands up and gives Bucky a glare.

“Not a problem, Sir. You can count on us.” Sam states with authority. 

“Good.  Dismissed.”

Bucky watches as Fury leaves the conference room and then turns towards Sam placing his hands firmly onto the table.  It groans with the weight of his arms as he pushes up out of his seat. “Why did you volunteer us for that mission?”

“Look, you and I both know these weapons are dangerous and in the wrong hands can cause a lot of damage.” Sam tries to reason with the super-soldier. 

Bucky internally groans. He knows Sam is right, however, he is not giving in that easy. “Just like Steve, taking stupid risks you don’t have to,” he grumbles as he pushes around Sam and then out the door heading down the hallway to find y/n. 

“I am not like Steve. Besides he passed the shield to me, knowing that I would always try to do the right thing.” Sam shakes his head, not backing down from the mission, and knows that Bucky will realize that he’s right. 

Bucky storms off towards their room and throws open the door with a muffled bam. You look up from your place on the sofa and place your book face down on the coffee table. Your light yellow sundress cascades over your legs onto the sofa as you stare up at Bucky. His mouth set in a firm hard line. “Ok...so I take it the mission brief did not go well.”

Sam trailed behind Bucky back to their shared room. Bucky was upset about something and it wasn’t about the mission.  Sam knew it was his birthday and the last thing the old guy wanted to do was go out on a mission trying to find some weapons dealer.  

“Would one of you all tell me what is going on?” You glance between your two lovers with a questioning expression. Bucky leans against the kitchen island and folds his massive arms over his chest.  

“Bucky’s pissed off at me for volunteering us for a mission.” He eyes Bucky “And tomorrow is his birthday and will miss all the festivities of him turning 35 again.” A teasing smirk forms on Sam’s lips. 

“Try adding some numbers to that,” Bucky grumbles.

“Aw, and you don’t look a day over 29.” Y/N chuckles. Bucky lets out an aggravated breath blowing his chestnut hair out of his face. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at your two soulmates. Since you first met them they have been at each other’s throat one minute and in each other’s arms the next. Many times you sandwiched in between.  You have to admit the latter was much more appealing, but it’s never a dull moment with the dynamic duo. 

“Let me guess, you got to cut your hair again to fit the part of a…” you eye him and try to guess the mission at hand. “Ugh...cowboy?” Sam bursts into laughter. You give Sam a warning glare and walk towards Bucky wrapping your arms around his waist as you look up into his sapphire eyes“No? Ok, handsome, what is the gig?”

“He’s going to pose as an owner if a….SEX...SHOP!” Sam can’t hold back the laughter any longer.  Maybe he could make it up to Bucky by buying some sex toys while they are staking out the shop waiting for the dealer to show up. 

You bite your lip as you try to hold back your laughter. “Babe, I think that’s a great job.” 

“You think it's a great job? Really y/n?” His sarcastic tone is not easy to miss. You nod in response.

“Think you will be perfect for it. Besides, you like the idea of overstimulation.”

“Also like it when you don’t say red when Sam and I are getting you off.” He runs his hands up and down your back to your ass before giving it a small swat. “You know it’s not nice to tease an old man. Especially on his birthday.” 

“Who said I was teasing.  Sam and I already have plans on how we are going to celebrate your special day.  Guess it will just have to wait till you two get back from your mission.” You pouted at the thought of both of them being gone for this mission and neither one of you knew when they would be back. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’re coming with us Baby Girl,” Sam says from behind you as he places his hands lightly onto your shoulders, turning you around. 

“What?!” You looked at Sam with a confused look on your face.  “What do you mean I’m coming with you?  Why?” 

“You and I are posing as a couple buying sex toys for our honeymoon.” His brown eyes dance with mischief as you take in a breath. You place your palms upon his tight black t-shirt to steady yourself

“We..we are what?” You stammer as thoughts run through your head a million miles an hour. 

“Don’t worry baby girl it’s just a cover for a little while.  Just until we can catch this guy.”  Sam chuckled, the look on your face was priceless and he wished he had taken a picture. Bucky lets out a hardy chuckle from behind you as your face turns from its normal pink to a red flush. 

“You don’t like that idea, Sweetheart?” The super soldier teases with a playful smirk. He knows if you saw him you would want to knock it right off of his face.  “Guess, Sammy and you better give me that present now than because we leave first thing in the morning.” You shrug and walk into the shared bedroom followed by your two lovers. 

Sam got a smirk on his face and left the room and quickly returned with a red silk scarf and some lube and tossed them on the bed.  Between Y/N and Sam they remove every stitch of clothing leaving him naked.  Y/N gently pushes Bucky onto the bed and ties him to the bed posts. 

“You know I can break these right?” Y/N straddles his waist. Her fingertips lightly stroke down his chiseled chest feeling every ripped muscle. 

“Yeah maybe, but you’re really into the whole bondage thing so you won’t.” 

“Happy Birthday, Sarge,” you smile down at him while grinding your hips onto his hardening erection.  

Sam quickly joins you and begins nipping at Bucky’s neck causing him to let out a low moan.  Bucky pulls at the restraints.

“Tisk..tisk if you break them you will get punished.”

“Maybe I want to be punished by you two,” he says in a husky voice that sends delightful shivers down your spine. You scrunch up your nose and shake your head no while grinding your hips into him causing the wetness between your legs increase. 

You trail kisses down Bucky’s chest as you move your body down and begin kissing his inner thighs, you can feel him straining against the restraints as you take his hard cock slowly in your mouth.  

Sam continued sucking on his neck, leaving little bruise marks behind, eliciting moans from Bucky’s lips as he made a trail down to his collarbone.  He reaches over and unties his lover's arms as you give Sam a knowing wink. Quickly Bucky’s hands grip your hips and roll you over onto your back with a small growl. 

“If I told you once, I’ve told you a million times it’s not nice to tease me Baby Girl.” You just shrug as a small giggle leaves your plump lips.

“Sorry, Sarge,” you sass with a small wink. Sam chuckles as he reaches for the lube and squeezes out a generous amount in his hand and begins stroking his own hard cock, making sure it was good and slick while his free hand slaps Bucky’s ass and Bucky flinches in surprise. 

“Get that fine ass up for me babe,” his free hand holds onto Bucky’s muscular hips. Sam gently presses the tip of his hard cock against Bucky’s tight ass, slowly pushing inside before stopping just long enough for Bucky to adjust to him.  

Y/N runs her hand over Bucky’s taut chest before reaching his erect cock. You stroke it while you reach up and run your tongue over his lips begging for entrance. Bucky lets out a small moan at the feel of Sam’s cock as your tongues dance together. He then slides effortlessly into your dripping folds as a moan escapes you. 

Sam slowly pushes deeper inch by inch till he’s fully seated inside of Bucky 

You still for a moment as your heart begins to race. Soon they are pumping in rhythm with each other as moans escape their lips till they are thrusting at an animalistic pace. 

The room smells like a mix of Sam’s cologne and sex. Bucky takes his right hand and rubs the nipple of your breast with his thumb and fourth finger making it firm. “James,” you whine when he removes his hand and holds onto the headboard as Sam continues his furious pace.  

Bucky gives you a teasing smirk. “Told you not to tease me baby girl,” he pants out breathlessly. 

“Don’t act all innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago,” you barter as you hook your legs on the each side of his hips. You gently tap Sam and Bucky with the soul of your foot letting them know you are close. 

Sam can feel himself getting close to exploding as he feels Bucky’s walls clench around him.  “Fuck, I’m so close” Sam growls in Bucky’s ear.  Your screams push each man over the edge until they are spilling their hot seed. 

You rest your head on the soft pillow as you regulate your breath. Sam rests on his back beside you; his arm thrown over his forehead. Bucky rolls off of you and gives you a lopsided grin as he rests his muscular back on the headboard. 

“What are you grinning about Sarge?” Your lips form into a teasing pout as you eye him inquisitively.

“Just nice to know I can still get it up in my old age.”  He retorts as Sam snickers. 

“I had no doubt you could.”  

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sam wilson #sam x reader #marvel polyship bingo #sambucky bingo #mcukinkbingo #star-spangled-bingo2020 #buckybarnesbingo #avengersbingo

[nekoannie-chan]

Illusions part I

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 2685 words.

Summary: From the first moment that Steve saw you, he felt something different, but your brother Brock knew the dangers if you had a relationship with Steve

Warnings: Bad words, typical canon violence

A/N: My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English, if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

This is my entry to the @mermaidxatxheart ‘s Jamie’s 500 followers Writing Challenge with the quote prompt:

“I want an answer, damnit!”

“I don’t owe you an explanation”.

Also is my entry to the @coffee-with-bucky ‘s Lyn’s 2K followers Writing Challenge with the prompt #17:

“I’m fine”

“We both know that isn’t true”

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V   Part VI  Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX  ParT X

The news that S.H.I.E.L.D. had found Captain America had been quickly spaced in the Triskelion’s halls, everywhere there were talks about the subject, it was something incredible, of course, they were aware of the problems involved in having found him alive.

“Are you excited about the news, bro’?” you asked Brock after training.

“Yes, of course,” he murmured without enthusiasm.

You smiled, Brock didn’t use to show his emotions in public, he had always been like that since childhood, but with you, he was always different.

Like him, you also worked in SHIELD, actually, you belonged to the STRIKE team like him, and some people believed that you had obtained your position thanks to your big brother since he was commander of the team, but it had not been so, it was with your own merits.

As soon as the Captain woke up, many members of the Agency were summoned to an emergency meeting about what was going on, after a long dissertation they had chosen you to be the one who helped Steve adapt to this century.

“Are you sure? We can still go and ask them to assign someone else, "said your worried brother on his way home.

"You always exaggerate, I don’t think will be difficult or dangerous,” you replied.

It had been a great shock for Steve to have woken up at this time, everything was completely different from his time, he had too many doubts, and he did not find any logic to what had happened to him.

How had he survived? The last thing he remembered was coldness.

After a long conversation with Fury, Steve had decided to stay at S.H.I.E.L.D., the Agency had informed him that the next day he would meet the person who would be his guide at this time.

You entered the room where Steve was.

“Awake looks more handsome,” you thought.

“Ma'am,” Steve greeted.

When you heard it, you left your self-absorption, for a moment you had run out of words when you saw him.

“Captain, I am the agent Y/N, I will be in charge of helping you in your adaptation process "you introduced yourself regaining your composure.

You usually avoided using your last name, sometimes people confused you with your brother or thought they were married, in short people were stupid.

From that day on you started teaching him how technology works, as well as his new department, at first, Steve didn’t seem very comfortable with the situation, there were many things so different and others that in his time had not even imagined that they were possible. You also updated him with the historical events that happened after he was frozen.

"How are you doing with Rogers?” your brother asked as you helped him with the paperwork of his last mission.

“Fine, learn fast,” you replied.

You were joking with your brother as usual when Steve came in and saw the situation, he didn’t like the way you behaved with Brock.

“Y/N,” Steve called. “Do you think we can go to the exhibition you told me the other day?”

“Oh … I don’t think it’s possible, today we have to go with the new STRIKE recruits,” you apologized.

“Ah… good luck,” said Steve.

He seemed disappointed.

“That also includes you, Cap,” Brock said.

This fact did not seem to please Rogers at all, in fact, your brother either, neither of them liked the idea of ​​being on the same team, but they were orders from the superiors, even Pierce had ordered the entire STRIKE team that belonged to HYDRA keeping the Captain under surveillance.

Steve decided to wait for you when the training was over, he wanted to remove all doubts once and for all, he had developed feelings for you, but he thought you were in a relationship, if that was true, you would be nothing more than a coworker for him and I would never mention the subject.

Once the others left and you were alone, he approached you.

“How long have you been together?” Steve asked out of nowhere.

You looked at him confused, you didn’t know who he meant or what.

“Who? “you asked.

"Rumlow and you,” he replied completely seriously.

You saw him and then started laughing, you couldn’t believe he was asking you that, Steve was baffled.

“I’ve known him my whole life because Brock is my eldest brother,” you informed him.

Within a few seconds, you received a message that was required in Fury’s office, so you left Steve completely confused.

The next day Steve entered Brock’s office ready to dispel the new concern that had arisen with your response.

“Y/N and you are siblings?” He asked abruptly.

“Yes,” he replied coldly.

Brock assumed everyone knew that in the organization, but he was perplexed to see Steve leaving the place without saying anything else, so he didn’t give it any importance.

Steve felt like stupid, now I thought you were mad at him for what had happened he went looking for you but he didn’t find you because after a short time he was gone, you came to see your brother.

“What happened between you and Rogers?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“Y/N”

“Brock”

You stared at each other for a while, you didn’t want him to know about your feelings for Steve because you didn’t feel like telling him the “risks” of going out with someone from work.

“Steve asked you something?”

Your brother saw you again.

“He did it,” he replied, making it obvious,

“Well, I don’t know, that’s why I ask you, genius, it was a funny thing, I supposed he read my file but he thought you and I are dating

"He’s stupid,” he muttered intelligibly.

“What did you say?” you asked.

You didn’t understand what he said.

"Nothing, we have a meeting with the recruits”.

You rolled your eyes, since that accident your brother had become overprotective of you, so much so that you had a great fight when you told him that you wanted to be part of SHIELD, in the end, you did what you wanted and he had no other choice more than accept it.

You understood why he was like that with you, for almost eleven years you were his only family or what was left, not to mention that the other relatives of your parents had turned their backs leaving them completely alone, you never knew exactly how Brock had paid all those hospital expenses, the funeral and so on, the only answer you always got from him was that he had gotten a job at SHIELD

In the gym of the agency the recruits were already waiting for you, you went for a bit of the equipment they would use for the practices.

“Have you seen her? She is very pretty "one of the new members told another.

"I didn’t think there were women like that here,” said the other.

“The first one to conquer her is going to fu…”

Brock had heard that he can’t stand to express himself that way about you, he hit him hard enough to make him unconscious.

“What happened?” You asked when you saw the recruit on the floor.

“They weren’t following the rules,” Brock lied.

Since that day those boys didn’t even dare to see you, they ended up resigning, without you knowing your brother had threats. The rest of the workouts there was no setback.

Steve was trying to be more and more in love with you, he was looking for any excuse to talk to you or meet “casually” in the corridors of the Agency, other times he brought you some small and innocent detail like chocolates. Not counting that you were spending much more time than normal together. You liked Steve’s company although neither dared to talk about his feelings.

Brock realized the situation even if you didn’t tell him anything, it wasn’t something he liked at all, first because he didn’t want you to get hurt, secondly because surely if someone else noticed what was going on between Rogers and you probably he would inform Pierce and he would make some plan in favor of HYDRA, he was definitely against getting involved in all that, you weren’t HYDRA and you didn’t even know that your brother was part of that association.

“Does your sister have a relationship with Rogers?” Rollins asked.

Brock almost drowned in the coffee he was drinking, if that was true, there would be serious problems.

“No, it’s just for work, you know she’s helping Rogers,” he replied.

If Rollins had already noticed it, it was probably true, he had to find out the truth as soon as possible.

He went to look for you, he saw you talking to Steve, and he walked faster to get closer to where you two were.

“So, are you free on Saturday?” Steve asked.

All-day he had been gathering the courage to invite you.

“No, Y/N has things to do,” Brock replied in your place.

You looked surprised, you hadn’t even noticed his presence.

“Brock!”

The men looked challenging.

“Remember what day is Saturday,” he told you.

It was the anniversary of your parents, that day they usually went to their grave to visit them.

“You’re right…”

“Your friend is looking for you,” your brother informed you.

You saw him, you knew that look in his eyes, and then you would talk to Steve.

“Y/N, she said is urgent to see you”

You made a face and went out to Natasha’s office, she had become your best friend since you entered the agency (Brock didn’t like her very much either), you entered the office.

“Are you looking for me?”

“No,” Nat replied.

“My brother said …”

Then you understood everything that happened, it seemed that one of Brock’s hobbies was to ruin your attempts to date.

“That idiot,” you said through your teeth.

Nat raised his eyebrow.

“Is he being overprotective again? How are you doing with Rogers?”

“I… why do you ask that?” You questioned, blushing.

“I’ve known you for years, you like him, you can’t deny it, invite him on a date, wear a short dress and sexy underwear, I guarantee the results,” Natasha suggested winking.

“Nat!”

“I can distract your brother,” he said mischievously.

“You know he hates you, right?”

“I can figure it out,” he said without giving it any importance.

“You are hateful sometimes.”

“You lie, you love me,” the redhead corrected.

The way back home was silent, as soon as you reached the apartment you were going to go straight to your bedroom when Brock stopped you, he had to know the truth once and for all.

“What’s going on between you and Rogers?” He asked with some discomfort.

“Nothing that matters to you,” you replied.

“I want an answer, dammit,” he raised his voice.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I’m your brother,” he said authoritatively.

“Fuck you, I’m an adult, I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

You went to your room before he could say anything else. Brock clenched his frustrated fist, he couldn’t explain the situation, he just wanted to get you away from any danger, and the worst thing is that he knew that you felt something for the Cap that meant HYDRA would pay attention to you.

Sometimes you had nightmares, it was always the same, the accident in which your parents died and miraculously you had survived.

That night the same dream was repeated, terror took hold of you, your breathing was too agitated, you were afraid to open your eyes and again be in that hospital bed.

“Hey calm down, I’m here, you’re in our home, safe,” said your brother trying to calm you down.

You opened your eyes to hear his voice, it had only been a dream as in the past.

“Are you ok?” he asked you.

“I’m fine”.

“We both know that isn’t true”.

“I’m really fine,” you tried to sound convincing.

“Again you have those nightmares Y/N, you should go back to therapy …”

“No, I already told you I’m fine,” you interrupted him.

Your brother saw you with concern.

“I’m really fine, you can go back to sleep,” you said hoping your voice sound calm.

It had worked, he returned to his bedroom, you lay in the dark, you stayed up the rest of the night, and the only bad thing about when the nightmares came back was that you were probably going to have them for a whole week.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

“Yes”

“Sure?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You look tired,” he said.

“I haven’t slept well, that’s all,” you replied.

You didn’t want to explain, at least not for the moment, you didn’t usually talk about that fact.

“Are you busy on Saturday?”

“Yes, family reunion,” you explained.

You couldn’t find another way to call what you would do.

“Do you have Sunday free?” He asked you, trying not to sound nervous.

“I’m free.”

“Would you like to go to the movies with me?”

You saw him directly in the eyes, his face was completely flushed, and in fact, you thought he held his breath.

“Yes, of course,” you replied.

“See you, then”.

You smiled, now you had to get an idea so Brock wouldn’t find out and ruin your date.

Your day off finally arrived, you had decided to go to your favorite cafeteria, the cakes and milkshakes from that place were delicious and nowhere else did they do so.

You were thinking about what clothes to wear for the date, in addition to how to leave without your brother finding out when you began to hear a great commotion in the street, you saw through the window of the place, what were those monsters that attacked the city?

There was no time to look for answers, you started helping to evacuate people, you had no idea what was happening, your weapon had run out of munitions, trying to fight them was a bit difficult without the necessary weapons, and you hoped that The Agency would have taken action on the matter.

You could not return home for your other weapons, it was far from the place and you did not know the magnitude of the affectations, you checked the area a bit, it seemed that there was no longer any civilian that could be damaged.

“Y/N!”

When you heard your name, you turned around and saw your brother, you felt calmer knowing that the Agency had intervened.

“What are you doing here? I was calling you…”

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know, I think a mission went wrong, they sent me for something else,” he replied.

You looked surprised, usually, they gave them information on the missions, something like that needed a lot of agents, surely they had called you too, you started looking for your cell phone in the pockets of your jacket, you couldn’t find the device, you remembered taking it, you probably had lost or you had dropped while helping people.

“What happens?”

“I think I lost my cell phone,” you said.

“No wonder you didn’t answer my calls, I was worried.”

“I’m fine, I just don’t understand what happened.”

“Your weapons? Do you have enough munitions? "He asked you.

You shook your head.

"This is the only one I bring and I don’t have bullets anymore,” you replied as you showed him your gun.

“I need you to go home then, as soon as this is over I will reach you,” Brock ordered.

Suddenly someone pulled you in the back before either of you could react, you immediately recognized Steve’s arms.

“I’m glad you’re well,” he said.

“What are you doing here?“ he asked you

"I was enjoying my day off”

Your brother was trying to process what happened, he could not believe it, it was as if his nightmares were coming true and again he could not do anything to avoid it, at any moment Pierce would find out and was able to do anything to have the Captain in your power

“What the hell does this mean!?” Brock exclaimed.

#jamies500writingchallenge #lyn2k #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve x you #writing challenge

[coffee-with-bucky]

Okay, so can I have the prompt #17 “I’m fine.” / “We both know that that isn’t true.” with Steve, please?

#17 is yours! 

lyn’s 2k writing challenge

#lyn replies #lyn2k

[coffee-with-bucky]

lyn bb, i'm so so late to the party... if you're still accepting entries into your writing challenge, could i have “Get up sleepyhead!” / “5 more minutes…” please? congrats again on the milestone my love!!! 💖💖💖💖💖 —honeybucks

Dana!! No worries and the prompt is yours! Love you! 💖💖💖

#lyn2k

[coffee-with-bucky]

Hi! I was wondering if I could do picture frame with Bucky? 💚💚💚

Sure thing! The prompt is yours!

lyn’s 2k writing challenge

#lyn replies #lyn2k

[coffee-with-bucky]

Congrats on the follower milestone 🥂 and thanks for running an awesome challenge too. Can I join with the object prompt 4. Streetlamp, please? With Bucky and Steve (not Stucky). Cheers x

Thank you so much love! And you bet! The prompt is yours!

lyn’s 2k writing challenge

#lyn replies #lyn2k

[coffee-with-bucky]

Congratulations Lyn on 2k!!! That’s amazing!!! If it’s free, could I please request prompt no. 21 with Bucky Barnes? 🎊🎉🥳

Thank you so much love!! Prompt #21 is all yours!

#lyn replies #lyn2k

[coffee-with-bucky]

Hello! For your writing challenge (congrats btw) can I get "it's only a little bit of blood. I'm fine." With my boy Rhodey please??

The prompt is yours! Also I’m excited to hear what you have in store with Rhodey! He needs more fic love 💕

lyn’s 2k writing challenge

#lyn replies #lyn2k