loving-bucky-is-easier - Tumblr blog

loving-bucky-is-easier · 2 years

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god i LOVE this trope. the second i saw hypothermia in the warnings i clicked “keep reading.” and then to combine it with this enemies to lovers arc with a fantastic little twist of WHY they hate each other was just 🤌🏼 *chef’s kiss*

and the evolution of their snappy banter from hateful right into affectionate? so well done. very clear that they didn’t change personality, just perspective.

thank you for writing this!

cold - b. barnes

summary | you and bucky don’t get along. you never have, and you never will. so of course, Steve has decided you guys will be partnered up for everything from now on.

pairing | bucky barnes x Stark!reader

warnings | swearing, mentions of violence, hypothermia, drowning, mentions of past trauma

_____

“Y/N! I trip over your shit one more goddamn time and I’m fucking burning it!”

“Your cat bites me once more and I’m fucking kicking it!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Fuck me? Fuck you!”

“I swear to God, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Good luck with that, you fucker!”

Bucky storms past Steve and Sam, anger radiating off of him. The two men share a look, Sam poorly hiding his grin behind his hand.

“God. They’re seriously gonna hurt each other one of these days.” Sam laughs as soon as the door to Bucky’s room slams shut.

Steve grins, though it is quickly replaced by a thoughtful frown. Sam grimaces, recognizing his scheming look, and sighs.

“You’re gonna fuck with ‘em?”

A grin forms on Steve’s lips as he stares at Bucky’s closed door. “How would you feel about getting a new partner?”

Sam snorts. “You’re crazy, man.”

_____

“You’re reassigning me? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, we’re just rearranging some things. Trying out some new combinations.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you smooth your hair away from your face. Forcing a steadying breath between your lips, you return your eyes to the borderline smug look on Steve’s face.

“Who am I with then? Sam?”

Steve shuffles some papers around on the table, fingers flitting nervously before he glances up at you.

“It's, uh,” he clears his throat, “it’s gonna be you and Buck for a while.”

“What?” You screech, “Bucky fucking Barnes? You paired me with him?”

Steve sighs. “Look, it's not that big of a deal-”

“Fuck off, Steve! Are you out of your mind?”

“If you two could just act like adults for five minutes, this wouldn’t even be an issue.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and turning your back to him as he continues to speak. “Look, if you can’t handle it, I‘ll just take you off of missions for a while.”

Scrubbing a hand down your face, you sigh. The slight edge in Steve’s voice lets you know that this decision is not up for debate, and arguing isn't going to change his mind. Your eyes flutter shut, shoulders rolling forward in defeat as some of the anger seeps out of your body.

“Fine. I’ll work with Barnes.”

“Fantastic. You better go check that you’re all packed up. We leave for Romania in four hours.”

“Yes sir.” You state curtly, not bothering to wait for his dismissal before you turn and hurry toward your room, leaving Steve smirking behind you.

_____

“Ten minutes to the drop point,” Sam calls over his shoulder, glancing back just long enough to catch your nod of acknowledgment. Next to you, Bucky sighs and hauls himself to his feet. You watch him out of the side of your eye as he walks toward the cockpit where Steve and Sam are seated, arguing heatedly with them while glancing in your direction. You roll your eyes at them and pull yourself to your feet, grabbing your parachute and beginning to strap it on.

As you lock the last clasp in place, Bucky appears next to you. You freeze, watching as he double-checks all of the straps on his suit while pointedly ignoring you. When he’s done, he looks up at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Can I help you with something?”

You swallow, quickly dropping your gaze back down and locking the last strap in place.

“Nope. Hand me my knife.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, throwing a glare over at Steve as he watches the both of you from afar before grabbing the knife from the seat next to him and shoving the hilt into your waiting hands. You barely catch the knife before he’s stepping closer to you, his fingers tightening on the parachute straps across your shoulders. The air leaves your lung as his touch ghosts across your collarbones, and he takes your moment of surprise to step closer to you.

“If you fuck this up for me, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Though a shiver travels down your spine at the threat, you pull back a few inches to meet his eyes, a grin on your lips.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing.” You whisper, gently grazing your knife over his hip bone and towards the waistband of his pants while watching the glint of something dark flash in his eyes.

“Five minute.” Sam calls.

Bucky releases his grip on you and you slide your knife away from him and into it's holster. Steve clears his throat, standing closer to the two of you now and you finally break your stare in favor of glaring at the blonde man. Steve looks entirely unimpressed with the two of you, going as far as to roll his eyes before he turns to point at the map laid out on the table and begins to speak.

“Alright, guys. We’re dropping you half a mile from the base.” He points to the circle drawn over the blank area of the map, then traces his finger over to the large ‘X’ that marks the Hydra base. “Get in, plant the bombs, and get out. Then, make your way to the safe house, and we will meet you there in the morning. Any questions?”

When neither of you responds, he nods, a stern look appearing on his face. “Y/N, Buck, behave. Look out for each other. No fighting. The last thing we need is either of you killed. Understand?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. Steve grabs his shoulder, forcing the former assassin’s gaze back to him.

“Do you understand?”

You watch Bucky’s jaw tense before he responds. “Yes, Steve. I understand.”

The super soldier’s gaze flicks to you, and you nod quickly. “I understand.”

“One minute.”

Steve nods at the both of you. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

You force a grin and wink at him. “I always am.”

He rolls his eyes, but laughs as you step towards the door that Bucky has pushed open for you to jump out of. He stands in the doorway, watching the ground pass below, and you stop across from him, sucking in a breath as you watch the tops of trees speed past hundreds of feet under you.

You bite your lip as you feel the sting of the wind against your cheek. You see the small clearing you are to land in approaching in the distance, and nervously tighten your straps down in preparation to jump. Anxiety claws at your stomach as you race closer, and then you faintly hear Sam give the signal, and barely register a hand tugging on your arm before the plane is gone from under your feet and you are dropping through the air.

_____

That mission and the next dozen pass in a blur of adrenaline and noise. You and Buck remain at each other's throats, resulting in several injuries between the two of you. You had nearly ruined the last mission when a childish competition and bickering had gotten between you, distracting you from your target. He had almost managed to escape before Steve swooped on and handled it.

After a few disciplinary lectures from Steve and Sam, you and Bucky were given one last chance to redeem yourselves before you were placed on leave for an undetermined amount of time. That is what leads you and Bucky to Kazakhstan, and a moonlit run through the snowy woods.

Flakes of snow hurtle past you, sticking to your icy skin and causing tiny pin pricks of pain to spark through you. The cold air tears at your lungs and throat with every breath you take, and your legs burn with exhaustion. You feel faintly dizzy and sick, and cold- so, so cold.

You have kept pace with Bucky so far, but now you are starting to fall behind, struggling to dodge the fallen trees and sticks in your path and not slip on the icy snow. You want to stop so badly. You‘re exhausted. Your body is screaming at you to lie down in the snow and sleep for a year or two- but you push yourself forward. You tuck the screams of protest away into the back of your mind and focus on the glint of moonlight shining off of Bucky’s metal arm, guiding you through the snowy night.

After what you are sure is a lifetime of running, you reach the top of a small ridge and barely catch a glimpse of a small cabin hidden in the snow and trees a few hundred yards below. You nearly cry in relief, legs threatening to buckle as Bucky continues his brutal pace down towards the safe house.

You race across the final treacherous distance to the cabin, only slowing when Bucky reaches the door and pulls his glove from his flesh hand, pressing his thumb to the small block above the door. A small light flashes once, twice, and then a buzz sounds before it clicks and the door swings open. A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob rips through you as you both spill through the door and into the dark cottage.

For a few moments, you both stand in darkness, leaning against the door and breathing heavily. Your chin falls to your chest and your legs shake with over exertion, but you stay standing. As your breathing slows, you feel Bucky push away from the door and step further into the room, fumbling around in the darkness.

“You got a flashlight?” Bucky says, finally breaking the silence.

You step shakily away from the door, running your hands over your suit in a fruitless search.

“No. I- I’ve got nothing. There's not a light switch?”

“I don't know. I can't see.” He snaps.

“Right. Uh, hold on. Where are you?”

You stumble blindly in the direction you heard him move in before you feel something brush against your side, and then a hand lands on your waist.

“Here.” He says quietly, his warm breath brushing against your cheek.

“Okay, don’t move.”

You trace your hand down the side of your suit, your hand brushing against his briefly before you pull away and find the pocket you are looking for. You fumble with the zipper for a moment before reaching in and grabbing the item you were looking for and pulling it out.

“Aha.” You hold the stun gun to the side, away from both you and Bucky before pushing the button to bring the taser to life. It sparks for a moment, and you feel Bucky’s hand tighten on your hip in surprise. Finally, it clicks to life all the way, and the bridge of electricity provides you with a little light.

You take Bucky’s wrist with your free hand, placing it on your shoulder, and lead him around the room with the tiny light source, searching for a light switch.

“Hey, over there.” Bucky points past to an area to your left, too dark for you to see, and you step closer until the circle of light catches on the edge of a fireplace.

“Okay, well, good job. You found an empty fireplace. Can you start a fire in the dark without wood?”

He scoffs his breath tickling your ear due to how close he was to you, his chest practically touching your back. His hand reaches up to yours, pulling the weapon from your grip. The room goes dark again, and for a moment it stays that way- both of you standing in the dark just inches apart, his warm breath thawing the chilled skin on the back of your neck. Then, there’s a soft buzz before the stun gun clicks back to life, and he's slipping around you to explore.

You stay stuck in your spot for a moment before the cold begins to seep painfully back into your skin. You step forward, closer to Bucky and the light, and watch as he fumbles around until he finds the edge of the fireplace and the small stack of wood piled next to it. He makes a small triumphant noise, and you can barely see the smug look on his face when he turns back to you.

“You’d be so fucked without me.” He snorts, grabbing a few pieces of the wood and throwing them into the fireplace. You roll your eyes at him, stepping over to help.

“Whatever, Barnes. Just start the fucking fire.”

He laughs as you finish piling the wood, and then he uses the stun gun to start it on fire. It only takes a few tries before the old wood ignites, spreading warmth and light through the cabin.

You drop to your knees in front of the fireplace, your cold, shaking hands held out in front of you towards the flames. Bucky stands behind you for a moment before turning to look around the cabin. You hear him shuffling around for a few moments before a chair creaks and groans and Bucky sighs.

“Jesus.” His voice is muffled, and you glance over your shoulder to find his head in his hands.

“You good?”

He snorts, pulling his head up to meet your eyes, and you are shocked by the cold glare he sends your way.

“Am I fucking good? Are you kidding?”

You turn to face him, surprised by his sudden aggression. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You!” He shouts. “You’re my fucking problem, Y/N. God, if you weren’t so fucking annoying and incompetent we wouldn't even have to be here right now.”

“Me? Did you hit your head? I’m the only reason we survived today.”

He laughs. “Yeah, right. I had to drag your ass out of the line of fire more than once. You let yourself get cornered, for God’s sake. If I wouldn't have stepped in, you’d be a splatter in a wall.”

“Why did you step in then, Barnes?”

“Cause I don't need to lose my job over some little princess who’s only here because her big brother had connections.”

Had. Had. Tears well in your eyes at the mention of Tony. It had been five years since Tony died while defeating Thanos, and you still hadn't truly recovered. Your brother had been your closest friend, and you had been closer than anything. Losing him hit you hard, and everyone knew it.

You lock your jaw, pressing your lips together, and shake your head. “Fuck you, Bucky.”

Shaking, you stand and walk quickly to the door stepping outside and slamming it shut as Bucky stands from his chair. Anger and grief swirl through your mind as you trudge towards the woods. As you reach the treeline, you hear the door open again, and Bucky calling your name. Raising your hand over your head, you flip him off and continue to walk away.

The cold bites at your exposed skin and burns your chest, but you tuck your arms close around yourself as push forward, desperate to put distance between yourself and Bucky before you do something that could cost you your position on Steve’s team.

You plod on, your argument with Bucky mixing with thousands of others in your head, all of his harsh words and cold glares causing your anger to grow stronger.

Bucky doesn’t know shit about you, and yet he thinks you aren't good enough to be his partner. He doesn't know how you trained after your parents died, desperate to protect yourself and Tony. He doesn't know about how desperate you were to become stronger and faster and smarter, or the nights your brother had to nurse you back to health after you bit off more than you could chew and picked a fight with someone you shouldn't have. Bucky doesn’t know about your years of training with Nat and Clint- and eventually Steve- after Shield recruited you, or the months you spent being tortured by Brock Rumlow and Alexander Pierce as they worked to bring down Shield and release the Winter Soldier.

Fury, Tony, and Steve were the only people who knew your story and your extensive qualifications. Bucky didn’t know shit about you or how competent you truly were. So fuck him.

The snap of branches behind you pulls you from your thoughts and has you reaching for your knives.

“Y/N?”

You roll your eyes as Bucky emerges from the trees.

“What the fuck do you want?”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Look, I’m sorry I pissed you off, but you’ve gotta come back to the safe house.”

You snort. “Fuck off. Leave me alone, you prick.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“I’m difficult?” You shout. “You’re an asshole, Bucky Barnes.”

He closes his eyes, sighing again. “Okay. You know what, let's go back to the cabin and talk about this there.”

You stare at him, still holding your knives at your side.

“No?” He rubs a hand over his face. “You’re shaking, Y/N. It's cold out here. Let's just go back to the cabin, and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

He holds out his hand towards you, but you don't move. His head tilts to the side, a pleading look on his face, and quietly adds, “I promise.”

Sighing, you slide the knives back into your suit. You’re reaching for his hand and taking a step forward when there’s a loud crack, and ice-cold water surges up around you.

You’re falling. The water is painfully cold, instantly stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving them burning and raw. Your head dips under the water, into the frozen darkness below, and you’re screaming. Your panicked, frozen mind fights desperately to swim back to the surface, but your limbs are cold, numb, and unresponsive.

You’re drowning. You’re suffocating, choking on the water as you fall toward the murky bottom. Your lungs scream for air, and in a desperate final attempt, you draw upon every last inch of energy within your body to force your arm up towards the surface. For a second, you’re sure you’ll break through the top of the water, but even with the burst of strength, your outstretched arm doesn't quite reach.

With dark splotches forming in your vision, your limbs begin to feel heavy again, and you feel your energy giving out. The cold seeps into every inch of your body, and just before your eyes close, you feel a hand latch onto your wrist and then you’re going up-up, up, up, until you can feel the sting of icy air against your skin and snow pressed against your back.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice sounds distant to you, but still full of shock and fear. “Y/N, keep your eyes open. I’m right here.”

You feel him prodding at you, and then you’re on your side and he’s hitting your back. You cough, water leaving your lungs only to be replaced by the brutal icy air. You cough and cough, and then there’s a hand on your face, warm against your frozen skin, and his voice sounds closer, crisper.

“Y/N! Y/N, please! Please come back.”

You groan, and he sighs as your eyes flutter open. Bucky leans over you, the wild panic in his eyes slowly fading away to be replaced by relief.

“Bucky?” Your teeth chatter as you say his name, voice raspy and breath labored, but his eyes side closed and he leans forward slightly, pressing his forehead against your chest for a moment.

“It’s me. It’s me, Y/N.” He pulls his head back to meet your eyes again, grief and worry flashing across his face. “God, I thought I lost you. I almost lost you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You’re confused, still in shock, and entering the beginning stages of hypothermia, but you still set a shaking hand against his bicep.

“I’m- I’m okay. I’m right here, Buck.”

“God, Y/N, you’re so cold. Come on, we’ve got to get you back.” He gently wraps his arms under your shoulders and knees, lifting you to his chest and pulling himself to his feet. You tuck your arms against his chest, desperate for the warmth emanating from him.

The walk back to the cabin feels like both a few seconds and several years, but by the time you get here droplets of water have frozen to your skin, and your hair is beginning to freeze. Bucky struggles with the lock for a few moments, then practically kicks the door down when it opens, before racing to the fire.

Bucky sets you down in front of it, hushing you when you murmur his name. He throws a few more logs onto the fire and leaves you again. You have enough conscious thought left to scoot as close as you can to the flames, curling your body up tight into a ball, before Bucky returns.

“Y/N?”

You hum softly in response, eyes closed and body shaking as you lay on the wood floor.

“C’mere doll.” He reaches for you, and you slowly set your trembling hands in his. Bucky pulls you to sit upright in front of the fireplace.

“Is that okay for a minute?” He asks. You nod, swaying gently in his hold, and he frowns.

“You sure?” You nod again and he hesitantly releases you, turning to the pile of blankets and rugs he gathered behind you. Bucky hurriedly sets the rugs out in front of you, covering the cold stone floor with different furs and weavings before tossing a threadbare blanket over the top of the small nest he created. He throws a few pillows into it, then turns back to you.

“Alright, now the scary part.” He crouches next to you, setting his hand against your cheek so you slowly raise your gaze to meet his.

“We gotta get you out of those clothes, doll. Can you help me?”

Bucky’s tone is so gentle- calming and full of warmth and kindness. You aren't used to it, but in your confused state, you trust him entirely. You nod at him, eyes slightly unfocused and body shaking with cold. He nods back, then glances down at your suit.

“Okay, okay. This is- okay.” He sounds nervous, his hands hovering over you as his eyes dart across you. You shakily raise your hand to the front of your suit, fumbling for the zipper with your numb, frostbitten fingers.

“Bucky.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, then he nods and looks down to your hands, gently brushing your fingers away as he grabs the zipper. He slowly drags it down, stopping to unbuckle your utility vest, and then sets his fingers against the edge of the suit, brushing lightly against your collarbone. You shiver, and he pauses, glancing up at you again.

“Ready?”

You nod, and he drags in a quick breath.

“Alright. Arms first.” Bucky’s fingers slide over your bare shoulders and down your arms to your wrists, then one hand at a time helps you free yourself from your suit. You note his gaze dip over your exposed skin for just a moment before making a point to avoid looking anywhere other than your arm. Once you're out, he quickly grabs one of the blankets from the pile and wraps it around your shoulders before he sets his hands against your hips.

“You’re doing great, doll, almost done. Will you help me get this off?” He murmurs, tapping at your suit-covered hips.

“Yeah.” The blanket, fire, and his hands are starting to warm you up, and the fog is slowly clearing from your brain. He seems to notice the slight clarity in your eyes, as he smiles at you and grabs another blanket from the floor to wrap around you. You laugh softly as he settles it over your head to create a sort of hood, and he grins at you before gently pulling your shoes and socks off.

He helps you shimmy out of your pants, again careful to avoid looking at any inch of your exposed skin. While you appreciate the fact he is trying to maintain your sense of modesty, you are so fucking cold that you truly don't care what he sees. He moves you to the bed he created on the floor in front of the fire, covering you in dozens of blankets, and then disappears again. After he’s gone for a few moments, you find yourself staring into the fire, feeling warmth slowly reenter your body. Your mind slowly clears, and you close your eyes as flashes of your near-drowning play in your mind.

After a moment, you hear Bucky return, and turn to look at him. He walks back into the room, a towel in hand, and rubs wildly at his hair. You frown, confused for a second before he pulls the towel away and you realize his hair is wet.

“Bucky?” You slowly pull yourself upright, and he catches your confused gaze and hurries over.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He asks quickly, eyes darting across your form to try and find the problem.

You fumble through the mass of blankets to free your arm, then reach out towards him. He frowns but doesn't flinch away as your hand finds his damp hair. You run your fingers through the dark strands, then drop them to his shirt, which is also cold and wet. Now that you aren’t shaking as badly, you notice the slight tremble in his body.

“Buck, did you jump in after me?”

He frowns at you, then drops his gaze to your hand settled against his shoulder.

“I-” He cuts himself off, sighs, and starts again, “I tried to grab you, but I got to you too late. I just missed your hand. Then, next thing I know, you’re like eight feet under and I just- I had to get you out, you know, so I just jumped.”

You stare at him. “Bucky Barnes, you jumped into a frozen river to save me?”

He doesn't respond, continuing to stare at your hand. You follow his gaze, slowly moving your hand up to his jaw. You lift his face towards you and he slowly meets your eyes.

“Thank you, Bucky. You saved my life.”

“Again.” He adds with a small smile.

“Don't be a dick. Now strip and get in here before you freeze to death.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got the serum and-”

“Yeah, well I’m still cold and you're always a freaking furnace, so get in here.”

He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, but nods.

“Fine, but you gotta turn around.”

“Come on, we both know you peeked.”

His cheeks darken but he gestures for you to turn away. You sigh dramatically and roll towards the fire. You hear him step away, and then turn your head back to glance at him as you hear him pull his shirt over his head. His back is to you, but you watch the muscles along his back and shoulders ripple with the movement. Once the material is over his head you turn back to the fire.

A few moments later you feel your makeshift bed shift as he settles in next to you, careful not to touch you. You roll your eyes, shifting onto your back and turning your head to look at him.

“Really?”

“What?”

“You are half hanging off of this thing.”

“Am not.”

“You have a corner of a blanket.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“I can feel you shaking.”

“That’s you, doll.”

You scoff. “The whole point of this was to not freeze to death. Get in here, I’m cold.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but shifts closer until his arm brushes against yours.

“Better?”

“I guess.”

“You’re needy tonight.”

You elbow him in the side.

“Ow!”

“You’re an ass.”

He grins and you turn back to face the fire.

The two of you lay awkwardly next to each other for a while, neither of you speaking, while you stare into the fire.

“Y/N?” Bucky whispers.

“Yeah?”

“You feelin’ any better?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, then his fingers wrap around your wrist and he tugs lightly. You turn to face him, expecting him to drop your hand, but he keeps his grip.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.”

You smile softly. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing.

You giggle at him, sliding your arm back until his fingers are entangled in his. “I’m glad I’m alive too. Thank you, again, for saving me.”

He nods, the smile leaving his lips and he looks down.

“I’m- I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About all the shit I’ve said to you, actually.”

You’re shocked, but he doesn't give you a chance to recover before he’s speaking again.

“I- I remember you. From, uh, Hydra. I don't remember why, but I do. You were there- weren’t you? At the end?”

You swallow hard, eyes falling to the reflection of the fire in his metal arm.

“I was.”

“Were you, um, with them?” His hand shakes slightly in yours.

“You think I worked for Hydra?”

“No. Yes? I’m not sure. Everything from that time is still a little fuzzy. But the first day I met you, I recognized you.”

It's beginning to make sense to you now- the truth of why he didn't like you. He thought you worked for the people who hurt him, and no one ever told him the truth of why you were with Pierce and Rumlow because they were either dead or sworn to secrecy.

“They- Pierce and his troop of idiots- knew who I was. They knew I was connected to Steve and Nat, and thought I would have information on them. They sent me on a secret solo mission and then kidnapped me. They knew that Steve could be a threat to their mission so they wanted me to rat him out in exchange for my life, but I refused.”

Bucky watches you silently, emotions flitting across his face as you speak.

“I think they kept us kind of close to each other. I didn’t know you then, but I could hear you screaming. Just having to hear what they did to you Buck- that was the worst part.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers after a few minutes of silence.

“For what?”

“For being so horrible to you. I thought- I was convinced you were one of them and it turns out you were, you were hurt just like me.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you squeeze his hand. Your other hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and his eyes dart up to yours again.

“It’s okay, Buck. I understand now.”

“Do you think we can start over?” He murmurs.

“Definitely.”

He clears his throat loudly, smiling when you laugh at him.

“Hello. My name is Bucky and I think you are one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen.”

You laugh. “I think your hypothermia is talking.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, it's true. You are beautiful.”

Bucky reaches up and gently pushed a strand of your hair away from your face.

“You're really laying it on thick tonight, Barnes.”

“Is it working?“

“Maybe a little.”

He grins, leaning closer to you.

“It's crazy to think that a few hours ago I wanted nothing more than to break your pretty little face.”

He gasps. “How violent, doll.”

You hum softly, watching the light bounce off of his bright blue eyes.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m cold.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. I think you should kiss me. To share warmth.”

He laughs. “Right. For medical purposes.”

“Of course.”

He uses your intertwined hands to pull you closer to him, your chest pressing against his. Your breath hitches as his cool metal hand slides over your waist to rest against your spine. You trace your fingers slowly over the ridges of his arm, both of you watching the movement until you reach his shoulder, and then his eyes meet yours.

“Y/N.”

“Buck.”

“Are you sure?”

“So sure.”

Your hand slides up to his cheek, and his eyes shutter closed for a moment, and he opens them again for just a moment before his nose brushes against yours, and then his lips are on yours and every part of you just feels so perfectly right.

Your hand slides to his hair and you tug gently at it, causing him to groan softly into you. You smile into the kiss and his fingers press against your back. He draws back slightly, forehead pressing against yours.

“Doll, you keep doing that, and you’re gonna get us into a situation that neither of us can be in right now.”

Excitement floods through you, but the events of the day flash through your mind and your exhaustion seeps back in. You release your grip with a soft laugh and scratch the back of his head gently.

You press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back. “I guess I’ll just have to remember that for next time, then.”

“Next time?”

You shrug. “I mean, if you want.”

“God, yes.”

You grin, kissing him once more before spinning in his arms and pressing your back against his chest. You feel Bucky’s breath hitch, then his arms are tightening around your waist and holding you against him, his face pressed into your shoulder.

“You sure got snuggly fast.”

He hums into your skin. “I think I’ve liked you for a while now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Me too. Maybe we were just expressing it the wrong way.”

He hums again, your newfound comfort lulling you both towards sleep.

“You’re warm.” He murmurs, voice muffled by your skin.

“Yeah, you fixed me right up, Doc.”

He laughs. “Couldn’t have my partner dying on me. Looks bad.”

You laugh, and he tightens his grip on you.

“How are we gonna explain this to Sam and Steve?” You ask after a minute.

“Explain? I think those assholes set us up.” Bucky grumbles.

You laugh again. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like something they’d do.”

“We’ll get ‘em back.”

Your eyes slide closed, your hands resting over Bucky’s. “We’ll make sure they regret ever thinking this up.”

He hums. “They’re gonna hate us. We’re gonna be so obnoxious.”

“As if we weren't already.”

_____

#fics meg loves #fics meg loves: one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes whump #tw hypothermia

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loving-bucky-is-easier · 2 years

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i was so bummed to scrap this scene from the original fic, so it was so exciting to get to finish it and have the opportunity to share it later. thanks so much for reading!

because it wasn't the right moment

the one from Steve's perspective

an addition to for one of your kisses (i'd risk it all)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Recruit!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: 18+, language, major spoilers for the original fic, very graphic violence and torture, non-con touching, mentions of Hydra’s gross misogyny, Rumlow is a disgusting POS, whump, angst

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

A/N: This is a “scribbles in the margins” addition to for one of your kisses (i'd risk it all) for my Paper Anniversary celebration. It's a scene that's already in the fic, but from Steve's perspective instead of Reader's. More responses for this fic can be found here and here, and another bonus drabble can be found here. Thanks so much for the request, @veraocruel!

Steve didn’t struggle as a masked agent cuffed him to the metal chair.

It had been righted since the day before, placed back in the middle of the room, on the tiles that smelled sharp with whatever chemical they’d used to scrub his blood off of them.

It made him nauseous as he tried to take deep, centering breaths, blocking out the lingering pain from the day before and bracing for whatever was to come. All but a few of the breaks in his skin had closed up in the hours since she’d left him in his cell, but that didn’t erase the aches that felt bone-deep, as though the leather and metal had been carving into skeleton instead of flesh.

His jaw twinged in discomfort, though he wasn’t sure it was from gritting his teeth as his wounds knit themselves back together, or from the transmitter implanted there.

Natasha had gone silent the moment the agents had come to retrieve him, but he knew she’d be fine without his input. She always was.

“Just buy me time,” she’d said. “Make it look good so he’ll fuck off to wherever and we can get in and take care of her.”

Make it look good.

Steve could make it look good.

He could take a hit. And Bucky had always said he had a flair for the dramatics.

He was already cursing himself for not thinking to tell her that he was getting them help. He couldn’t fuck up the rest of this too.

So he stared straight ahead, running over the line he would “finally” spill to Rumlow once it became “too much” over and over, tasting the words on his tongue with the copper and salt left lingering there.

If it was anything like yesterday, Steve would actually hit a breaking point. He just needed to make sure he said the right things when he did.

But there was another chair in front of him. Metal, unyielding, like the one he was in. Open cuffs dangling from the armrests.

God, he prayed it wasn’t what he thought it was for. Hadn’t she been through enough?

And once again, he fell to replaying their conversation from the night before over in his mind. The biting words he’d spat at her before he’d understood burned like bile in his throat. He couldn’t forget the shame in her eyes as the truth finally spilled out of her. The shaking of her frame as her arms hung around his neck and she sobbed into his chest.

And that fear that gripped her entire body like a vice as she jumped back from him after dropping the pile of towels and bottles in his lap.

Terror he’d thought was directed towards him. Terror that he’d learned was for him instead.

But fuck if it didn’t hurt worse than Rumlow’s handiwork to see her like that after he finally understood.

He’d been a pawn once, too. He’d just been luckier about who was moving the pieces.

And if it was God who was moving the pieces now, he certainly wasn’t listening to Steve’s prayer about that fucking chair across from him.

The door slammed against the wall as Rumlow dragged her in, his grip tight on her bicep, and he shoved her enough towards the chair that she stumbled as her eyes locked on his, sparking heat in his lungs.

Heat like guilt. Heat like anger. Heat like fear and panic and maybe heat like love.

She was a shell of herself as she sat meekly, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped, hands shaking, and cuffed herself to the armrests without argument. Not the feisty recruit he’d met mere weeks ago. Cowed and terrified.

A pawn.

Until she looked back up at him, and he could see her again. Just a glimpse of the fight, the determination, the “I’ve made it this far, what else ya got” that he knew both from the mirror and from the girl he’d fallen for.

They could do this.

Right?

“We’re gonna try for Round 2, Cap,” Rumlow grinned, flashing yellowed teeth and thumbing at the tablet as he hovered over her shoulder. “Only this time, I think we see how you feel when someone else is on the receiving end.”

Steve fought the urge to scream or retch or tear through the cuffs holding him fast as Rumlow’s filthy hand traced over the column of her throat, then shoved below the neckline of her shirt to grope at her chest.

Red blurred his vision and his chest heaved, but she was stoic, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Whatever he does,” she grit out, “it doesn’t fucking matter. Don’t give him shit, Steve.” He took in a shaky breath and flexed his fingers.

He wanted to end this now, but it was too soon. Make it look good.

Rumlow certainly wasn’t making it difficult.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he crooned. “So glad you two made nice.” Steve froze, and her eyes flew open in panic. “What?” Rumlow mocked, trailing his hand down her stomach. “Did you think there was such a thing as a private conversation in a Hydra holding cell? ‘I’m so sorry Steve!’” he whined. “Pathetic, but it makes for great entertainment.”

Steve had a mere second of concern that their captors might’ve heard the distress call he’d made, but all thoughts and reservations and plans and that line he’d been practicing in his head over and over were wiped clean from his mind, set alight by white-hot fury as Rumlow’s hand fell between her thighs.

He vaguely registered a whimper falling from her mouth that was drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He lunged forward, the legs of the metal chair pounding against the floor like a gunshot.

But it was the venom in his words that made Rumlow flinch. “Don’t fucking touch her,” he growled.

There was the tiniest bit of fear in the monster’s gaze as he looked back at him, and he had to admit he liked how that felt.

But Rumlow pressed on. “Oh, that’s it Rogers. Take care of your little whore, why don’t you? Tell you what. I’ll treat her real nice if you tell me where Barnes is.”

“Steve,” she pleaded. “Don’t.”

Steve looked back and forth between her eyes, soft and aching, and Rumlow’s, cold and cruel. He tried to tell her he didn’t want to. He could stop it in a second. He wanted to take this from her, make it stop, get her out, he wasn’t just letting him hurt her for no reason, he–

“No?” Rumlow clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.” And Steve knew from the sickening grin on his face that he wasn’t the least bit disappointed as he collected a metal object from the table next to her. “But since she doesn’t want to be Hydra anymore, we should probably get rid of this.”

All Steve could focus on for half a moment was the grime under Rumlow’s fingernails as he shoved down the shoulder of her shirt, exposing the ugly black brand the same color as the filth.

And then the half a moment ended and the room gave way to her screams that bounced off the walls and tore their way through him as a blowtorch was held to her stamped skin.

She convulsed in the chair, feet skidding along the floor and hands scrabbling against the cuffs, trying to run or fight or do anything but sob and stare at him with a plea in her eyes that he wished were an excuse to make Rumlow stop but he knew was just her asking him to stay silent.

There was a sharp stinging to his wrists as the cuffs broke through his skin.

After a lifetime the torch was removed, and she was sobbing so hard he thought she might hyperventilate.

It had to have been long enough. Hadn’t it?

“Rumlow, I swear to God,” Steve grit out.

“God? Really?” He rolled his eyes. “Give me a fucking break. I could kill her with the press of a button, which I’m pretty damn near close to doing. You’re testing my patience.”

He bent down in front of her, and Steve ran the line through his head again. He needed to end this. Because maybe she could take more, but God, she shouldn’t have to, and especially not if she believed he was just letting it happen to her.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Rumlow crooned. “ Why don’t you beg for the great Captain America to save you? It’d be so easy for him to just–”

And she spit directly on his face.

“That’s m’girl,” he muttered under his breath, but he didn’t think she heard him over the loud slap to the face her resistance earned her.

“Fine,” Rumlow hissed. “She doesn’t wanna talk either, Cap. So, why don’t I shut her up completely?”

“Steve, don’t–” She was silenced as Rumlow’s hand clamped down on her throat.

Would that be the last thing she said to him?

Because he could hear himself spewing promises and threats and anything that his brain could manage to stream together, but none of it registered.

The world was her eyes as they locked on his. Wide and panicked as she suffocated in her own body.

For a flick of a second, something like contentment muddled the fear.

And then she slumped over in the chair, and the world was gone.

Someone was speaking. Yelling at him. There was a hand in his field of vision, giving one more squeeze to her throat that jostled her lifeless form.

Was she gone?

She couldn’t be gone. Not after all this. She couldn’t die a prisoner of these monsters, couldn’t die believing he didn’t care enough to stop them. Couldn’t die believing it was her due.

“Rogers!”

Steve flinched away from Rumlow, who stood over his shoulder, drawing the room back with him, and suddenly the muddied voices refocused.

“Where in Prague? Answer me or I’ll make sure I finish the job, if the bitch isn’t gone already.”

“There’s a safehouse two blocks from the train station,” Steve heard himself say, his voice raw. Was that right? It felt the same in his mouth, so it must have been. He couldn’t think much past the limp girl before him.

Rumlow stormed out the door moments later, tablet in hand.

Maybe he answered more questions. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d fucked the whole thing up altogether and Rumlow was on his way to an actual safe house to kill whatever was left of SHIELD.

He had prepared to deliver this lie when it was him on the line. His pain. His blood. His life.

But not hers.

He stared unmoving, trying to convince himself that he could hear a heartbeat, could see her chest rising and falling, as her last plead of “Steve, don’t” played on a loop in his mind.

“Steve, don’t–”

“Steve.”

“Steve, don’t–”

“Steve!”

Steve sat bolt upright, finally registering the voice echoing in his ear to be a real one from his transmitter and not just a figment of his hope.

Natasha.

“What?” he asked weakly.

“Rumlow just lifted off. We’re on our way to you.”

Steve looked helplessly at the lifeless form in front of him. “Please hurry.”

I have discontinued my tag list. To be notified when I post a fic, follow @loving-bucky-library and turn on post notifications.

#comment reblog

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loving-bucky-is-easier · 2 years

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thank you so much 🥹

for one of your kisses (i'd risk it all)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Recruit!Reader

Word Count: 8.3K

Summary:

“Hey, what’s–” The second he cleared the corner, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him against you, stepping behind another couple and backing up against the wall. His hands landed against the concrete on either side of your face.

“What’re you–”

“We’ve been made,” you whispered. He blanched, but you slid a hand around the back of his neck and gently pulled his face down to yours. “Trust me,” you assured, and you kissed him.

Warnings: 18+, language, mild sexual innuendo, smooching (will I ever stop calling it that?), very graphic violence and torture, non-con touching, mentions of Hydra's gross misogyny, Rumlow is a disgusting POS, whump, angst, fluff

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

A/N: Somehow I am still writing celebration drabbles (and this one is a one-shot?), but I'm excited to be trying a new character! Thank you for the request, my dear @veraocruel. I loved going back to my hurt/comfort roots with this piece. And an extra thank you to my incredible beta-readers, @mareli-carter and @fragile-heartt (as always, all mistakes are my own). Listen to "Vicio" by Selena Gomez here.

“Not bad.”

You huffed. “Not bad?” You stared into guarded blue eyes, unable to resist a small smirk as your thighs pressed into Steve’s hips, your knees on his biceps, pinning him to the mat. You pressed your forearm more firmly against his throat. “That’s it?”

“Well,” he grunted, shifting his weight slightly, “I can do plenty with just my hands.” He froze, a flush spreading across his cheeks, and you grinned. “That’s not what I… forget it.”

You yelped as his left hand gripped your ankle, and he leveraged his entire arm against your shin, easily pushing you off of him and onto your back. He rolled with you, his knees landing on either side of your hips. He pinned your hands above your head with one of his own.

“So, yeah,” he grinned, his face inches from yours. “Not bad.”

You squirmed briefly before muttering, “Not all of us are super soldiers.”

He chuckled, giving one more squeeze to your wrists before releasing them and sitting back, then rising to his feet.

A large hand was extended to you, and you took it, letting him haul you to your feet in front of him. Once you’d settled, he dropped your hand, calling back over his shoulder as he made his way to the bench along the wall.

“Not that I doubted Maria, but you’ve fallen right in. I’m sure we can find a good placement for you.” He tossed a water bottle to you. You caught it, following him.

“Maybe I should’ve asked before, but… seems like it's a bit above your pay grade to be screening recruits, Cap,” you offered before taking a sip. “You didn’t have anything better to do for the last three weeks?”

He sighed, sitting heavily on the bench. “Well”-- he scrubbed a hand down his face – “when your entire organization collapses as a front for Hydra, you tend to be a bit more particular about who you work with.”

You winced, shifting on the balls of your feet. “Right.”

“But at this point I think we can consider you cleared.” He sat back, tossing the water bottle mindlessly between his hands. “We have your background check and service report from Maria, erm, Agent Hill. Nat had very high praise for your marksmanship. Simmons cleared you healthwise – with her recommendation, you may end up working in her lab. And now you’re through with hand-to-hand combat.” He nodded past you to the mat. “I think I can sign off as ‘good enough’ on that.”

You rolled your eyes as he chuckled. “Checked all the boxes, then?”

“Checked all the boxes.” He took another sip of his water. “If you like, I can come by and help you pack up your stuff. We can get you moved from holdings into the cleared recruit lodging.”

You fidgeted with the lid in your hand, rolling it across your fingers. “I don’t want to take up more of your time.”

He stretched, and you couldn’t help the quick flick of your gaze to the skin exposed on his taut stomach. Stupid.

“It��s no trouble. Your new room is right across from mine. Don’t want you to have to spend any more time in that glorified cell than you have to.”

You smiled. “It’s not so bad.”

“I wish I could say the food’s better once you’re cleared, but I’d hate to lie to you.” He took another sip. “Can I ask you something?”

You shifted on your feet. “What,” you teased, “the mountains of paperwork didn’t tell you everything?”

“No, they told me plenty.” He sat forward. “But they told me the what and the how. I want to know the why.”

“The why?”

“Why SHIELD? And why did you stay?” he pressed. “Even if you didn’t want to go Hydra, you didn’t have to keep fighting.”

You fidgeted, nails scratching absently at the back of your neck. “I didn’t…” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t pick it because it was SHIELD.”

Steve leaned back against the wall behind him, chin inclined, face unreadable.

“I picked it because of what it was doing. Who it was fighting for. SHIELD was taking care of the people who couldn’t take care of themselves. And that’s–” You swallowed, trying to push past the dryness of your throat. “That’s what I was following. So I followed it here.”

There was a new softness to Steve’s eyes as he looked at you, nodding slowly. “Okay.” He stood and brushed past you on his way to the double doors.

You turned to follow him nervously. “Okay?”

“Let’s go get your stuff,” he said without looking back.

Shit.

.....

“Captain Rogers!”

Steve stopped short of turning the corner that would take him to his office. He hesitated a moment, fighting the uncontrollable smile that seemed to take over his face every time he heard the new recruit’s voice.

With little success, he turned to face her as she barrelled down the hall towards him. “I think we’re probably on a first-name basis now, aren’t we? Or should I keep calling you Recruit?”

She stopped just in front of him, and his brow furrowed when he finally saw the panic etched on her face. He glanced down to find her assignment slip in her hand. “Something wrong?”

“I’m not… If the recommendation from Dr. Simmons wasn’t sufficient, I’d be glad to test with Dr. Banner–”

“Not sufficient? What do you mean?”

“Well, I wasn’t placed in the lab, and I wanted to make sure that–”

“I know.”

She froze, then swallowed hard. “You know? Why wasn’t I–”

“I recommended you to my squadron.” He chewed on his lip. Had he overstepped? She seemed upset by his decision.

She scratched at the back of her neck and shifted nervously. “I’m sure there are others more qualified for that. People with more experience.”

Steve nodded, crossing his arms. “Maybe, but I requested you.”

She seemed to shrink into herself, one arm wrapped across her waist. Steve tried to drop his shoulders a bit, to relax the default Captain Intimidation posture etched into his spine.

“I think that’s a mistake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think there are other people who would be–”

“Recruit,” he said, trying and perhaps failing to toe the line between gentleness in his tone and firmness in his words, “I need people who know why they’re here.” He winced as her eyes fell, and he placed a cautious hand on her shoulder. “You’re more than capable, and you have what I think is the right motivation, which is more than I can say for too many people here. You–people like you–are who I want fighting alongside me.”

When she didn’t look up, he retracted his hand, fingers tensing into a fist before finding their place at his side.

Steve forced himself upright, aiming for somewhere near professionalism. “We’ll take the first one as a trial run. It’s just intel gathering. A bar we’ve isolated as a regular hub for Hydra agents. No combat.” He took a breath. “We’ll reassess from there.”

“Copy, sir,” she said, still not meeting his eye, and he flinched. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that.

…..

“You’d think they’d come up with a better disguise for you than a baseball cap and sunglasses.”

Steve snorted into his drink. “You’d be surprised what people won’t see when they aren’t looking for it.”

You gave your club soda a mildly irritated flick. “Yeah? And are they not looking for the guy wearing sunglasses inside the dark bar?”

He shrugged, glancing discreetly to the groups on either side of you before taking them off and tucking them in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Fair point.”

You sat back against the cracking leather of the rounded booth, eyes flicking nervously from table to table. Nothing yet. The bass line of the music blasting from the speakers hummed in your chest.

You felt Steve’s gaze on you before he spoke.

“You okay?”

You looked at him in surprise.

“Yeah, I…” You sighed. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t enthusiastic about–”

“No need for apologies,” he said gently. “I understand the feeling of being put somewhere you don’t feel equipped to be.”

You nodded slowly.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he promised. “I wouldn’t have put you here if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Right,” you managed. Your brow furrowed. “I just… this is…”

“Not exactly what you imagined?”

You twiddled the straw against the edge of the glass, knocking the rather sad-looking wedge of lime underneath the ice. “Not exactly,” you admitted, watching it sink to the bottom of the glass.

“They’re not all like this. Plenty of ‘em are like the combat and retrieval ops you’re used to. But with everything having to be so… underground…” He sighed. “We’ve gotta choose our battles more carefully.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. You wrinkled your nose as the half-flat soda fizzed on your tongue.

He grinned, raising his glass in a mock salute. “I can’t get drunk, but at least I can drink something half decent at these lousy dives.”

You laughed. “And yet you get a Bee’s Knees? Geez, Cap, I know you’re old, but c’mon now.” You sipped again and immediately regretted it.

He grinned at your disgust, but there was a little bit of melancholy in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m sentimental.”

You leaned forward, propping your elbows on the table and crossing your arms. “Oh?”

Steve took another sip and swirled the glass, his gaze on the spinning ice cube. “‘S what Buck and I always used to get,” he said softly, and you pursed your lips.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you asked softly, and he nodded, still not looking at you.

“Don’t think he’d remember it.” He laughed bitterly. “He barely remembers me now. Just enough not to kill me, I guess.”

You sat silently as grief played across Steve’s eyes, his recent fight with the Winter Soldier a fresh wound.

“They’re better now ‘an they used to be,” he said finally, meeting your gaze with a weak smile. “They thin the honey out with water so it mixes. Used to be they just dumped the honey in straight so it’d hide how shitty the gin was, and it turned into a block of sugar at the bottom of the glass.”

He laughed a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you were struck by how young he looked like that.

“We liked ‘em ‘cause you could get a piece a’candy with the price a’your drink.” He took another sip, eyes flicking to the bar counter. “Probably good that this one’s mixed better. Lookin’ at this place, I’m thinkin’ the gin is nothing I want to be tasting.”

You smiled gently, raising your glass a few inches. “To Sergeant Barnes, wherever he is.” You watched carefully as Steve looked sharply at you, searching your gaze.

After a moment, he pressed his lips together and lifted his glass to clink against yours.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Don’t.

His brow furrowed. “For what?” Shut up shut up shut up.

“For…” Shit. “For everything with Bucky… and for–”

“Hold on,” he whispered suddenly, his gaze finding something over your shoulder.

You froze. “How many?”

“Two.” More. Always more.

“Can you make out what they’re saying?”

He fixed his eyes on you, an attempt at masking his concentration. A quick glance to the space between you, and you nodded. He slid along the seat until his denim-clad thigh brushed against yours. You kept your eyes on his as you lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, drawing him closer.

You could hear his heartbeat, so there was no doubt he could hear yours. You tried to steady your breathing as much as possible, but between the super soldier’s face inches from your own and Hydra agents at a table behind you, you were struggling to temper your anxiety.

“Relax,” he said evenly.

“I’m try–”

“No, sorry, I’m–” He shook his head, then flicked it towards what you assumed were the pair of operatives. “Relax,” he repeated, his voice low and monotone as he parroted one of them. “We’ll have him back soon.” He paused. “You’re awfully optimistic,” he retorted in a slightly higher register, and your nose scrunched as you fought a giggle at his differentiation between the two.

Steve rolled his eyes, bumping his forehead gently against yours as he continued in a low tone. “Either that” – he cleared his throat – “erm, person, will deliver, or we’ll go to Plan B. He’s gotta know something.”

You grinned in spite of yourself. “He didn’t say ‘person,’ did he?”

“Nope.” He raised his pitch again, and your grin widened. He flicked your nose softly, but you could see him fighting to maintain a stern expression as he continued. “What the hell is Whitehall doing messing around with this? He’s got his new projects. Why is he wasting his time with Pierce’s– What the hell does it matter?” The lower tone again. “Whitehall’s got plenty of scary shit at his disposal. If you want to question him, be my guest, but if he wants to fuck around with the Winter So–”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, and his grip tightened around his glass enough that tiny webs of cracks began to form. You grabbed his wrist, squeezing gently. “Steve,” you whispered, trying not to cower at the intensity in his eyes.

Slowly, his hand relaxed and his gaze softened. He cleared his throat. “One of them went to the bar to order.”

“I think we have enough for now,” you said gently. “I can go plant a tracker on one of them and we can go.”

“Why you?”

You squeezed his wrist again and offered a soft smile. “I’m a little less conspicuous, don’t you think?”

He nodded absently, and you slowly extricated yourself, retrieving a small tracker from the lining of your sleeve and positioning it on your fingertip. “I’ll head to the back exit, by the bathrooms, and wait for you there, okay? Wait ‘til I’ve cleared to get up.”

Steve shook his head and seemed to come back to himself a bit. “Be careful.”

You nodded and grabbed your glass with the same hand as the tracker, and your confident demeanor dropped the second you turned towards the counter. What the fuck are you doing?

You clenched your free hand, fingernails digging into the skin of your palm. Dropping your head, you shuffled through the crowds towards the bar.

You slipped behind the Hydra agent waiting there, staying out of his line of sight as you reached forward to set your glass on the counter. As you withdrew your hand, you brushed your fingers along his sleeve, allowing the tracker to latch on to the fabric.

You turned quickly, not waiting to see if he noticed your presence, and made your way past your and Steve’s booth to the crowded bathroom hallway.

As you walked past him, you caught a glimpse of another pair two tables away. As one of them raised his glass to his lips, his sleeve slipped down, revealing a familiar emblem stamped into his skin. More. Always more. Fuck.

You slipped into the hallway, mingling with the less-than-discreet couples and praying to every god you could think of that Steve would be able to make his way past them unnoticed. You could just see him past the backs of their heads as he pulled a few bills from his wallet and dropped them on the table next to his empty glass.

Even from afar, his silhouette was imposing when he stood.

And they noticed.

You saw them notice. Maybe not enough that they were certain, but their eyes flicked to him a few too many times as he meandered casually between the tables to meet you.

Panic flooded your veins. The exit was too far down the hallway for the two of you to clear it once he made it to you, and there was no way you could pull him into the bathroom without the couples around you seeing. Fuck fuck fuck.

He was oblivious as he cleared their table, and after a shared look they stood up from their seats.

You could just–

“What’re you–”

“We’ve been made,” you whispered. He blanched, but you slid a hand around the back of his neck and gently pulled his face down to yours. “Trust me,” you assured, and you kissed him.

Slow at first. Gentle. Just keep him safe. Your hands found the loops of his pants, and you pulled him in to close the gap between you. You then brought your hands up to the sides of his face, shielding him fully.

And then his tongue slipped across your lower lip, and for a second you forgot. You forgot as his hands slid from next to your face, one gently gripping your hip and the other cupping the side of your face. You forgot as his forehead rested against yours. You forgot as he kissed you like it was real. You forgot it wasn’t.

Fuck.

You inhaled sharply, and reality poured in. Steve pulled away slightly, and you could see the pair of Hydra agents settled back at their table. “Clear,” you breathed.

“Did Romanoff teach you that?” he asked, a dazed look on his face. You hated that you wanted to kiss it away.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, ducking under his arm and pushing past a couple towards the exit.

Stupid stupid stupid.

…..

Steve tapped hesitantly at the door frame, peeking through the open doorway.

“Can we talk?”

He felt the slightest bit of relief when she nodded, and he stepped into her room.

“You’re avoiding me.” Shit. “I mean… that came out wrong.”

She chuckled. “How was it meant to come out?”

“Less… blunt?” He shifted his weight, trying and failing to filter his thoughts. “Look, I don’t know how to do this. I’m your captain, but also I think we’re friends, and I escalated that kiss, and I would love to take you out on a date, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or uncomfortable, and I feel like either way we should talk about it, and I–”

“Steve.”

He swallowed, his hands stilling at his sides.

“You’re really sweet to be worried, but I can be professional about this. It was just a kiss,” she said stiffly, and Steve’s heart sank.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need. I kissed you. It was to keep you safe. And we are friends. This doesn’t change that. I just…” She scratched at the back of her neck. “I don’t think us going out is a good idea.”

Steve nodded, turning to leave.

“I look forward to the next one, Captain Rogers,” she offered softly.

The title sat heavy in his stomach.

…..

The line picked up after two rings. “Hello?”

“Steve? It’s me.”

You could hear the panic overtake his voice. “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you–”

“Nothing! Nothing. I’ll be back tonight,” you assured him. “Super smooth. They’ve cleared out of the location completely, just like we thought.”

“Oh.” He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was stiffer. “What can I do for you, then?”

“I wanted to…” You trailed off, trying to swallow down your nerves. “I wanted to see if I could still change my mind.”

“What?”

“I was just…” You fumbled for words, any words. “I was nervous about dating someone who I’d be going on missions with, and I didn’t want to… I completely understand if you’re not interested anymore. But I just… I was being stupid.”

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. You fought the urge to scratch at your neck, fingers digging into the sides of the phone.

“Steve?” you asked.

“How’s tomorrow night?”

…..

She looked nervous.

To be fair, he was nervous too. His fingers tapped on the table next to the silverware, and he was having trouble getting through whatever pasta dish he’d picked off the top of the list.

When she pushed a piece of potato across her plate for what seemed like the eighth time, he finally spoke up.

“This is weird.”

She smiled ruefully. “That’s probably my fault.”

He sat back in his chair. “Well, I don’t know. I put pressure on you.”

“I made it difficult though.”

“I mean you’re allowed to say no–”

“But I didn’t want to,” she said, and it was the most confident she’d sounded the whole night.

Steve leaned forward again and reached hesitantly across the table, taking her hand in his. “Then why did you?”

She tensed. “I told you, I was just nervous about dating someone I’m going–”

“--on missions with,” he finished. “You said that, but that hasn’t changed. So either something changed your mind, or there was some other reason you said no?”

Her face was tight, her lips pressed together like she was trying to stop herself from speaking. She squeezed his hand gently.

“Steve,” she started, and he thought he saw a flash of resolve cross her face. “I need to–”

And then she flinched, and she sat back, dropping his hand.

She scratched at the back of her neck nervously and forced a smile. “I need to use the restroom. When I’m back let’s just… start over?”

He managed a smile. “Sounds good.”

His head dropped into his hands before she’d even rounded the corner, and he scrubbed them roughly down his face.

He’d had his doubts about this after such a rough start, and he didn’t want to jeopardize the friendship any more than he already had.

That damn kiss.

It had startled him at first. He had only seen flickers of that confidence in her, and yet there she was, pulling him in by the belt loops, caging his body around hers, her hands resting gently on his face.

And he wanted more. He’d wanted more before that.

He’d wanted more when she’d teased him on her first day, when he’d tried to toss her a water bottle and it had launched clear over her head.

He’d wanted more when she’d finally pinned him to the mat and got that smug little look of satisfaction on her face.

He’d wanted more when he asked her why she was here, and she didn't seem to care about the titles or the ranks or the fanfare of it all.

He’d wanted more when his grief had spilled over sitting in that shitty bar and she hadn’t cared.

But he couldn’t be selfish.

Captain America had a responsibility. Captain America couldn’t be distracted. Captain fucking America didn’t need to be scaring his recruits into going out with him.

Hadn’t he learned yet? He didn’t get to be Steve Rogers. He didn’t get to be the guy who took the girl out to dinner and have it be normal.

“This was so fucking stupid,” he groaned under his breath. “Just call it off when she gets back.”

But she didn’t come back.

His pasta grew cold, and the candle on the table dripped wax onto the white cloth, and the pit in his stomach grew large enough it might have swallowed him whole.

She wasn’t the type to just disappear. Right?

He couldn’t wait any longer. He got up from the table and booked it towards the hallway she had disappeared down.

But the second he rounded the corner, he vaguely registered a sharp pinch on the skin of his throat.

Almost immediately, his vision began to darken at the edges, and he swayed on his feet, staggering further down the corridor.

“What–”

“Good to see ya again, Rogers,” a gruff voice called from somewhere to his left. “Especially like this.”

A sharp blow landed on the back of his head, and everything went black.

…..

He started asking for you the moment he woke up.

Asking was putting it nicely. You could hear him demanding to see you from the next room over, could hear the metal chair squeaking as he struggled against the restraints.

“Let me see her, you piece of shit,” he barked. You winced.

Rumlow’s response was muffled, but you could tell he was teasing at Steve, asking if he was sure he really wanted to see you.

You wished you could tell him he didn’t. He didn’t want to see you.

“I swear to god, if you hurt her,” Steve snarled.

“Hurt her?” Rumlow asked. “Rogers, I can assure you, there’s not a mark on her.” He raised his voice: “Isn’t that right?”

Your heart sank clear through your stomach as you let the inevitable happen, and you walked into the interrogation room unaccompanied.

Confusion clearly written across his face, Steve strained against the cuffs locking him to the chair.

“Well, I suppose that’s not quite true,” Rumlow drawled. “There is one mark on her.”

You winced as he grabbed your arm harshly and shoved your neckline down.

You swallowed down your disgust at the ugly black brand on your shoulder.

Instead you focused on the copper drain at your feet, steeling yourself for the hatred you knew was coming.

“Aww, look,” Rumlow crooned. “He’s all heartbroken over it.” His calloused hand gripped roughly at your jaw, forcing you to look up and finally meet Steve’s eyes.

Disgust, you could have handled. Hatred. Fury.

But he looked broken.

The hurt in his eyes burned in your chest, like your lungs were going up in flames.

Pure betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could manage, and his eyes hardened.

“Oh, me too, Cap,” Rumlow mocked. “So sorry we had to bring you in at all. But the bitch couldn’t get the job done, so we had to try something else. Whitehall’s getting impatient. So now,” he growled as he turned your head to face him, “you’re gonna watch while I finish the job.”

You stumbled back when he released you and leaned heavily against the wall. Steve’s eyes didn’t leave yours, ice freezing you in his stare.

“Y’see, Rogers,” Rumlow droned as he circled Steve like a vulture, “all of this, everything I’m about to do to you… it’s her fault, really. If she had gotten Barnes’ location out of you like she was supposed to, you’d have been none the wiser. You could’ve kept your puppy dog eyes for her… hell, you probably coulda fucked her a few times, and you two could’ve lived happily ever after until she had a tragic accident on one of your little missions. Nobody gets hurt.” He paused. “Well,” he sneered, “except her.”

Steve’s mouth tightened at the mention of Bucky, and somehow your heart sank further.

“But, no,” he continued. “She couldn’t do it. Took forever to even bring ‘im up. Blew a perfectly good opportunity to grab you because she couldn’t resist a little action at the bar. And then she almost blew it again too. Had to be convinced to take you up on your little offer.”

You shuddered, remembering the feel of Rumlow’s hand around your throat as you called Steve back, his other hand casually holding a small tablet that could end your life.

“But on the plus side…” He came to a stop in front of Steve. “Now I get to have a little fun.”

Rumlow swung hard, and a crack sounded as his fist landed across Steve’s nose, eliciting a low groan. Blood poured heavily down his face, soaking into the button-down he’d worn for your date.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, and your hands scrabbled at the tiles on the walls, searching for something to hold onto. Something to stop you from running to him.

“Where is he?”

Steve was silent, his gaze still on you.

Another blow, this one lower on his face, and his lip split. His teeth bared as he spit blood at Rumlow’s feet, and their reddish tint made you sick to your stomach.

Rumlow shook out his fist. “C’mon, Rogers, where is he?”

Silence.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I was trying to be nice, but we can get a little more creative.”

He pulled a knife from his belt and began tracing it down the center of Steve’s shirt, popping the buttons off one by one. He paused about halfway down, turning to face you.

“Did you want to do this?” he teased. You looked away.

“Guess not,” he shrugged, turning back to face his prey. “Sorry, Cap. She’s lost interest.”

He slid the knife the rest of the way down the shirt, then used the tip to push it open, exposing Steve’s chest and stomach.

“She’s kind of a tease, honestly. I’ll spare you that, fuck it out of her for ya.”

Steve inhaled sharply as the point of the blade found its home on his sternum and carved its way down the center of his torso. You slapped a hand across your mouth to stifle a sob.

“Nothing?” Rumlow growled, dropping the knife to the ground. “Jesus, you’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

He glanced around the room, finally landing on a lever along the wall. “Sweetheart, do me a favor and uncuff the Captain’s hands from the chair arms so we can hook them together.”

When you didn’t move, a sickly smile spread across his face. “Y’know, that tablet is next door… I could always cuff you to him and–” You stood up instantly. “That’s what I thought.”

You couldn’t look at Steve as you walked to him, as you cuffed his hands together, as you hooked the cuffs to the chain Rumlow lowered from the ceiling.

You couldn’t look at him as you swiped furtively at the blood on his chest, trying to see whether he was in danger of bleeding out, as you freed his ankles on Rumlow’s instruction.

You couldn’t look at him as Rumlow called for you to back off, and he raised the chain so that Steve was pulled up from the chair until he hung by his wrists, toes barely brushing the ground.

Rumlow selected a leather flog from a table in the corner and shoved the chair out of his way, and you flinched as the metal clanging echoed around you.

His first hit landed with a sharp snapping sound, and for the first time Steve cried out in pain. You finally looked.

Angry red welts raised across his stomach, a new variation to the crimson already painting the skin there.

He had finally stopped looking at you.

You counted, because what else could you do?

After the fourth hit, Rumlow retrieved the knife from the ground and sliced down the back of Steve’s shirt, nicking the skin in his haste. Or maybe it was intentional. Either way, Steve yelped as he did it, and a nauseating grin etched onto his attacker’s face.

After the eleventh hit, Steve’s body began to tremble uncontrollably. Blood pooled at his feet and trickled towards the drain.

After the sixteenth hit, he locked eyes with you again.

When the seventeenth hit landed, he lost consciousness.

…..

Steve woke with a start. He bolted up, and instantly regretted the sudden movement.

A barely stifled cry tore through him as his broken skin stuck to the hard metal bed he’d been laid on.

The chains around his ankles clanked as he managed to sit up.

He couldn’t have been out that long. His wounds had started to heal, but they certainly weren’t that far along.

“Steve?” a small voice called from the corner by the door. His muscles screamed as he swung to face it. He wasn't in any state to put up a fight.

The figure stepped closer, and he felt a breath of relief, followed by a fresh wave of betrayal, when he could make her out.

“What do you want?” he said coldly.

“I came to bring you, umm…” She held out a couple towels, a bottle of antiseptics, and some painkillers.

“The pain pills won’t do anything.”

“Oh. Oh, right, I’m sorry. I can go get you–”

“What do you want?” His voice seemed to cut through her, and she took a step back.

He let her stand there another moment in silence, and then he couldn’t take it anymore. “Y’know it’s funny, because I was so worried I was doing it all over again. Forgetting my place and forcing the people I cared about into positions they were never meant to be in because I couldn’t just play the part and keep it all separate. But for once,” he laughed bitterly, “for once, I don’t have to worry about that. You were right where you wanted to be. You’re a hell of an actress.”

She stared at her feet.

“I… I can just leave the others for you… I’ll have to take the towels back when you’re done or they’ll know I was here.” She stepped hesitantly towards him, then dumped everything in a split second before bolting back into the corner.

Steve blinked. “Did you think I was gonna hit you?”

“No, of course not, I… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He scoffed, picking up the antiseptic. “A little late for that, isn’t it? Even if you forget the whole torture part, I–”

“Right, no, I mean…” She scratched nervously at the back of her neck. “I just don’t want you in the blast radius.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked tiredly as he poured some of the antiseptic onto one of the towels.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, then slowly turned her back to him and lifted her hair off of her neck.

In the low light, Steve could just barely make out a thin, puckered scar. “They could trigger it whenever they wanted,” she said meekly.

He froze, damp towel in hand. “They put a bomb in your head?”

She crossed her arms in front of her and turned back to face him. “I didn’t want this.”

He sat back, gritting his teeth as he pressed the towel to one of the open wounds on his chest. “Explain, please.” He flicked his head towards the edge of the bed.

“But–”

“They’re not gonna blow me up. They still need something from me.”

She nodded, but positioned herself as far from him as she could while still sitting on the bed.

“I was a real SHIELD agent,” she promised. “I meant what I said. I wanted to take care of people.”

He stifled a groan as the antiseptic dripped down into some of the open lines on his stomach, and she winced, her eyes on her hands in her lap.

“When Pierce took over, he didn’t just bring in more Hydra or promote the ones who were already there,” she said slowly. “He wanted to own as many of the top agents as he could. Some of them turned. Some of them he killed off. And some of them…” She pushed firmly on the scar on her neck.

“How many?”

“I don’t know. But there aren’t as many as there used to be,” she said weakly. “We’re expendable. It’s a game to them. And most of the ones who go… they wait until they’ve gone home, gone to see friends or family or…” She sighed heavily. “Why take out just one, right?”

Steve leaned forward, wincing as he twisted to reach the gashes on his back.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged after a moment and handed her the bloodstained towel. She knelt behind him and began dabbing at the wounds that had begun to close. Her hands were cold against his heated skin.

“So you were assigned to me?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“To get you to trust me. And to find out where Sergeant Barnes is.”

“I can’t believe–”

“I didn’t want to, I swear,” she promised, her voice raising slightly. “I wanted to just let them kill me, but my family… and they would’ve just got another girl to do it. And,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper, “they said if I got it done they'd let me go. It was stupid of me to think they were telling the truth, but…”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He nodded. “You didn’t want to be on missions with me in case they… set you off.” He cringed, but you didn’t seem bothered.

“By the time I’d got through the first week with you, I knew I couldn’t do it. I tried to stay as far from you as I could, even though it was the last thing I wanted. I tried to protect you in the bar, but that just made them angry, and… now we’re here.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he said again. He could feel her hands trembling.

“I almost told you at dinner. I started to. I thought you could get enough distance that by the time they realized what I was doing you’d be safe. But Rumlow was watching. He sent a shock through me, and I knew there’d be no way I could get you clear.” She sighed. “At least this way I can help you escape, try to keep you alive. I can try and steal some keys and–”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“C’mere.”

“What?”

“Just… look at me.” She slid around next to him, watching anxiously.

“This is not your fault,” he said slowly. “I’m so sorry you were put in this situation.”

“I–”

“No. We’re gonna get you out. You did everything you could to keep people safe. We’re gonna take care of you.”

Her hands tensed in her lap, and her shoulders began to shake as a sob wracked through her. Tears began to slide down her cheeks, and as he reached hesitantly to wipe them away, she threw her arms around his neck.

Steve swallowed down a groan, but he wrapped his arms around her.

He was going to get her out.

…..

Your heart sank when you saw the second chair.

Rumlow had been especially enthusiastic as he walked you into the interrogation room, and it didn’t take long to understand why.

Steve was already cuffed in place, and you were relieved to see how much his healing had progressed in the hours since you’d left him in his cell.

But you knew before Rumlow even directed you towards it that the chair opposite Steve was for you.

“Go ahead and fasten those cuffs nice and tight, sweetheart,” he drawled, tablet in hand. You did as he asked without hesitation, heart thundering in your chest.

“We’re gonna try for Round 2, Cap,” Rumlow crowed, coming to stand behind you. “Only this time, I think we see how you feel when someone else is on the receiving end.” You squeezed your eyes shut as his hand wandered along your throat and across your chest, fingers skimming well below your neckline.

“Whatever he does,” you said through gritted teeth, “it doesn’t fucking matter. Don’t give him shit, Steve.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” he crooned, his breath fanning over your ear. “So glad you two made nice.” Your eyes flew open. “What?” he mocked his hand trailing down your abdomen. “Did you think there was such a thing as a private conversation in a Hydra holding cell? ‘I’m so sorry Steve!’” he whined. “Pathetic, but it makes for great entertainment.”

You bit down hard on your tongue as his hand dropped to the apex of your thighs, but he’d hardly brushed his fingers across you when Steve slammed the legs of his chair against the ground.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” he growled, and Rumlow flinched.

“Oh, that’s it Rogers. Take care of your little whore, why don’t you? Tell you what. I’ll treat her real nice if you tell me where Barnes is.”

“Steve,” you pleaded. “Don’t.”

Steve’s eyes flicked back and forth between yours and Rumlow’s.

“No?” Rumlow clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.” He collected a metal object from the table next to you. “But since she doesn’t want to be Hydra anymore, we should probably get rid of this.”

He pushed your neckline down harshly, and brought the metal to the emblem on your skin.

It took you three seconds to register that the object in his hand was a blowtorch. A scream tore its way from your lungs as you strained against the cuffs and Rumlow’s grip on your shoulder, your body convulsing as your skin bubbled and burned.

You locked eyes with Steve, tears pouring down your face, a silent plea for him to stay quiet battling with desperation for the pain to stop.

Steve was flushed, his cuffs cutting into him as he resisted every desire to give in and make Rumlow stop.

When the torch was finally removed, there was no relief. You failed to stifle your sobs as the pain pulsed through you.

“Rumlow, I swear to god,” Steve grit out.

“God? Really?” He rolled his eyes. “Give me a fucking break. I could kill her with the press of a button, which I’m pretty damn near close to doing. You’re testing my patience.”

He bent down in front of you, his face inches from yours. “C’mon, sweetheart. Why don’t you beg for the great Captain America to save you? It’d be so easy for him to just–”

You spit directly on his face, and it was almost worth the slap he landed on your cheek that sent the room spinning.

“Fine,” he hissed. “She doesn’t wanna talk either, Cap. So, why don’t I shut her up completely?”

“Steve, don’t–” You were silenced as Rumlow’s hand clamped down on your throat, effectively cutting off any intake of air.

You fought to remain calm, eyes locked on Steve’s, but it wasn’t long before your lungs were screaming. Your feet scrabbled along the floor, your hands gripping at the armrests so hard they ached.

Your heart pounded, and the room spun faster. You gasped and choked, desperate for a breath, but he didn’t relent.

Steve was yelling, but it was muddied by the ringing in your ears.

Your vision began to darken at the edges, and you searched for any memory to hold on to, landing on the half a moment of relief after Steve had kissed you. You’d felt breathless then, too.

But his eyes across from you now were full of panic.

It was the last thing you saw.

…..

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Steve pleaded, fingers pressed to her pulse point. He was rewarded with a weak rhythm.

“You probably don’t want to wake her if we’re going to—” Simmons started, but she was cut off by a violent gasp, followed by harsh coughing.

Steve breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she woke.

She jerked sharply away from his touch, face clouded with panic. “Hey! Hey, it’s okay, honey, it’s okay. It’s me.” He held out both hands gently. She calmed for a moment, but her eyes flitted quickly to either side of him.

“Dr. Simmons? Agent Romanoff? How–” She broke off in another coughing fit.

Steve winced. Her voice sounded like she’d been gargling glass.

He soothed a hand over her arm, then grabbed a blade from the table next to her. Moving slowly so he didn’t startle her, he cut through the cuffs holding her wrists and knelt in front of her.

“They’re here to get us out.”

“But, Rumlow–”

“Is off looking for Bucky.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You told him? Steve, I’m not–”

“I don’t know where Bucky is.”

Her mouth fell open.

“I haven’t seen him since the Triskellion.”

“Then why–”

“I needed Rumlow to be convinced enough that he’d be willing to make a long trip, so I’d have enough time to get you out. You were amazing. I don’t know how–”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes. Nat cleared an exit route for us, so we just have to–”

“No.”

Steve froze. “No?”

She leaned back in her chair, cradling her wrists to her chest. “I can’t go with you.”

“What are you talking about?” He reached for her hand. “We just have to–”

“No!” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We’re not gonna go through all of that just for me to get you blown up. The second he realizes you lied, he’ll–” She choked on her tears, her chest heaving.

Steve swallowed thickly. “Honey,” he said gently, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I know. That’s why Dr. Simmons is here. I need you to be brave for one more thing.”

“What?”

“We’ve seen use of similar devices with Hydra before. Captain Rogers notified us of it when he sent the distress call,” Simmons explained.

She looked at Steve. “When did you…”

He grimaced. “Right after you left my cell. I was going to tell you.” He tapped his jaw. “We all have one. You would’ve gotten yours next week, if you wanted it.”

“I’ve brought the containment unit Fitz designed, so once I get the device out, we’re in the clear.” She winced. “Unfortunately, not all of my kit survived the infiltration.”

Steve whirled on her. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, with the tools in this room, I can get the thing out, and I can contain it, but… it’s gonna hurt like hell.”

“You–”

“Rogers,” Nat said sharply. “We did what we could. You know better than anyone that SHIELD doesn’t have shit right now. This was half-assed at best. We’re making do.”

“So she’s just supposed to tough it out?”

“Steve.” He turned back to face her, and found her expression steeled. “I can do it.”

He breathed heavily. “Fuck it. What do you need, Dr. Simmons?”

But Steve felt fairly useless as the supplies were collected around him. Simmons selected a small blade from the table and sterilized it with the blowtorch. He wasn’t the only one who flinched when the flame clicked on.

Nat cut a piece of leather off of one of the flogs. “For her to bite down on,” she explained. Steve cringed, but he took the piece from her, and handed Simmons a needle when she requested it.

His mouth fell open as she dug a container of dental floss out of the bag on her hip. “You have floss but you don’t–”

“My. Kit. Was. Destroyed,” she grit out, her prim demeanor slipping.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. What else can I do?”

Simmons paused, surveying the room. “There’s no table large enough. I don’t want to risk her collapsing. Can you… hold her up?”

Steve knelt again in front of the chair. “Ready?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He stood and helped her to her feet, then handed her the leather strip. She placed it between her teeth and stepped close enough that she could rest her forehead against his chest. Her arms wrapped around his waist. He tucked one of his arms under her elbow to keep her upright, and placed a hand on the back of her head to keep it steady.

“I’m going to make this as quick as possible,” Simmons promised, approaching with blade in hand.

“You’ve got this,” he whispered, and he felt her body tense.

He held her tightly against him as the incision was made, tears brimming in his eyes at her screams muffled by the leather in her mouth.

Later he would notice the indentations she clawed into his back, but he couldn’t feel anything in that moment.

“Got it!” Simmons called triumphantly, shutting a small bloodied chip in the case she’d brought with her.

Steve nearly cried in relief. “You did so good, honey,” he soothed, pulling away enough so he could see her tear-stained face.

She managed a weak smile before going lax in his arms.

…..

You woke to a soft mechanical hum, but it was quickly overwhelmed by throbbing pain at the back of your neck and on your shoulder. You groaned softly as you stirred, disoriented, but any panic that started to creep in was quickly dismissed as your eyes fell on Steve’s, who was seated on the bench you were laid on, watching you with concern.

When he registered that you were awake, he moved quickly to kneel next to you.

“Hi,” he whispered, his hand gently brushing the hair off your forehead.

“Hi.” You smiled. “You’re safe.”

He chuckled. “Of course that’s your go-to. Have you seen yourself recently?”

You looked at him nervously. “Is it really gone?”

He nodded. “You’re free.”

You felt tears starting to pour down your cheeks. “Now what?” you asked weakly.

“Probably a vacation,” he teased.

You winced as you tried to sit up, and he pressed a hand to your back to help ease you against the wall behind you. He sat down next to you, his fingertips tapping anxiously on his knee.

You looked up at him nervously, then turned your palm up and brushed it against his leg. He looked at you for a moment, then took it. His thumb ran circles over your knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured.

You laughed lightly. “How about for ruining our date?”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s fair. But I mean we could always try again.”

Your eyes widened. “You want to? After all of that?” you asked incredulously.

He grinned. “I really do.”

You smiled softly, leaning gingerly against him. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Maybe we order in for this one, though.”

A/N: Did this basically turn into a very violent MCU Hercules as I wrote it? Yes. But I'm not mad about it, and I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is always appreciated!

Update: I created some bonus content for this fic for my Paper Anniversary celebration! Check out some answered questions about this pairing’s dynamic here, a scene from an alternate perspective here, and a follow-up drabble here.

I have discontinued my tag list. To be notified when I post a fic, follow @loving-bucky-library and turn on post notifications.

#comment reblog

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loving-bucky-is-easier · 2 years

Text

thank you so much! i really enjoyed trying out steve 💕

for one of your kisses (i'd risk it all)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Recruit!Reader

Word Count: 8.3K

Summary:

“What’re you–”

“We’ve been made,” you whispered. He blanched, but you slid a hand around the back of his neck and gently pulled his face down to yours. “Trust me,” you assured, and you kissed him.

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

“Not bad.”

“Well,” he grunted, shifting his weight slightly, “I can do plenty with just my hands.” He froze, a flush spreading across his cheeks, and you grinned. “That’s not what I… forget it.”

“So, yeah,” he grinned, his face inches from yours. “Not bad.”

You squirmed briefly before muttering, “Not all of us are super soldiers.”

He chuckled, giving one more squeeze to your wrists before releasing them and sitting back, then rising to his feet.

“Not that I doubted Maria, but you’ve fallen right in. I’m sure we can find a good placement for you.” He tossed a water bottle to you. You caught it, following him.

You winced, shifting on the balls of your feet. “Right.”

You rolled your eyes as he chuckled. “Checked all the boxes, then?”

“Checked all the boxes.” He took another sip of his water. “If you like, I can come by and help you pack up your stuff. We can get you moved from holdings into the cleared recruit lodging.”

You fidgeted with the lid in your hand, rolling it across your fingers. “I don’t want to take up more of your time.”

He stretched, and you couldn’t help the quick flick of your gaze to the skin exposed on his taut stomach. Stupid.

“It’s no trouble. Your new room is right across from mine. Don’t want you to have to spend any more time in that glorified cell than you have to.”