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sunflowersoldat · 2 years

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All is Fair~ Blood & Brothers

How Bucky met Peter ;)

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Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. You’re the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Violence and threats. Bad language words, angst, mentions of torture, blood.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: approx. 1.9K

A/N: Let me know what y'all think. I really hope y'all enjoy the look into Bucky and Peter's past! feedback is always welcome, let me know your favorite part. Kinda get a small look at how Steve was when he first took over the mantle.

Five years ago-

Bucky flipped his collar against the snow and icy wind, his target, Daniel Whitehall, barely visible even though he was mere feet in front of him. Buck strained his eyes as he kept his gaze on the footprints in the snow, eyes flickering back to the darkened outline ahead of him.

Steve and the rest of the heads had agreed to let him tail the Red Skull’s right hand, at least that is what the intel they were given said. Bucky thought back to the family meeting Odin had called, the white haired Don was fuming. Hydra had broken into one of the vaults and drained the entire mob of their savings, well not the entire mob, Steve and Howard had been smart enough to have an account offshore that held a good chunk, just in case.

He pulled his coat closer, this cold was starting to get to him, but he couldn't go back to the families with his tail between his legs, to embarrass Steve in such a way. If he couldn't pull this off, Odin’s favorite son would be tasked with the assignment instead.

Thor.

Bucky wasn’t a fan, but that wasn't surprising, he wasn't a fan of anyone. Steve had been the special exception, they grew up together, brothers in everything but blood. But that didn't mean Bucky received special treatment, no, if anything, Steve was harder on him. And right now, Bucky and Sam were both gunning for the position as Steve's Right Hand, this was his chance to prove himself.

Whitehall turned down an alley. Keeping his distance, Bucky slunk against the brick wall, peeking around the corner. Two men stood in a half circle, Whitehall joining them, around a heap of… Bucky couldn’t tell what they were standing around.

“What do we do with’em?” the taller of the men asked no one in particular.

“He’s useless to us, the Skull has ordered he’d be taken care of.” Whitehall replied hastily, as he looked around cautiously.

Dark chuckles filled the alley, the heap moved slightly, earning it a kick from the taller man, “Ya hear that kid? We’re gonna dump ya in the river, gonna sleep with the fishes.”

The heap groaned, lifting its head, a mess of curly hair damp from the snow, his face beaten and bleeding, the snow beneath him a deep shade of red, “Please, I’ll fix it… I’ll fix it… please, my aunt…”

Another harsh kick landed against his abdomen, the shortest kneeling, a fistfull of the kid's hair in his grasp, his head craning painfully to meet their gazes, “Oh don’t worry, your beautiful aunt will have company soon…” From his position at the end of the alley, Bucky watched a predatory smile split the man's lips.

Whitehall turned from the men, walking back down the alley, “Clean up your messes, the Skull won’t tolerate incompetence. Let me know when it is done.”

Whitehall emerged from the alley, making his way farther down the street. Buck knew he should follow Whitehall, but he couldn't leave this kid to die at these animals’ hands. Taking a deep breath he said goodbye to the Right Hand position as he watched his breath cloud in front of him, before rounding the corner, gun raised. The taller of the men had a gun aimed at the kid, the shorter one turning to Bucky, “Hey pal, get outta here, this doesn't concern you!”

Bucky’s eyes were cold as they met the short man’s, “Actually it does.” Three shots rang in the air, the snow swallowing most of the soundwaves.

The first shot landed between the eyes of the shorter man, the second taking the gun from the taller man’s hand, then a clean shot to his knee. The man dropping into the snow, his pained howls silenced as Bucky’s fist and gun collided with his face.

Bucky immediately knelt to check on the kid, gently cradling his head in his hands, “Oh kid, what have you gotten yourself into?” his fingers slipping to the kids pulse, a weak beat thrummed under the surface, “Stay with me kid.”

He removed his phone from his pocket, placing it between his ear and shoulder, as he picked up the kid, Wade answered, “Howling Commandos–”

“Stuff it Wilson, I need you to pick me up, I’ve got a snack for ya…” Bucky gave a disgusted look to the man unconscious in the snow.

“Oooohhh is it a Cephalopod snack?”

Bucky grinned, “It sure is. Think you can make him squeal?”

Wade laughed cruelly, “With pleasure.”

—

Bucky paced around the warehouse, he had called in a favor from Dr. Cho, who seemed more than happy to help Bucky save the kid from the brink of death. He was fine with losing the Right Hand position, but he wasn't fine with the embarrassment he knew he brought down on Steve.

“Would you quit that nervous shit? I can’t focus, I can practically taste your eagerness to please Daddy Steve.” Wade snapped, his knife sliding along the whetstone with a high pitched *sshhk* *sshhk* *sshhk*

Stopping, Bucky turned, glaring at Wade, who had pulled a chair to sit in front of the subject, “Wilson if you don't shut the fu–”

The side door to the warehouse opened, Steve walked through, in his black slacks, white button down, his long black chesterfield coat draped across his shoulders, leather gloves covered his hands. His eyes met Bucky’s, the intensity of his stormy eyes causing Bucky to lower his head. Bucky respected Steve, he had for a long time, in a way that only most people were beginning to adopt as well. He respected the man, not only because he was his brother and boss, but because he knew what he was capable of. Raised to be probably the most successful mob boss in the history of New York. Most people only believed he was in power because his parents died, but Bucky knew better, Steve had beat his old man out of the position years ago, and had been calling the shots long before they died. He just allowed Joseph to keep up appearances, they didn't need the whole of New York thinking there was weakness in the Rogers house.

They were toe-to-toe now, Steve’s brow quirked, as he began to roll his sleeves, “Wanna tell me what the hell happened?”

Bucky swallowed hard, “I lost Whitehall…”

Scoffing Steve leaned closer, “I can see that Buck. Care to…” he sniffed glancing around, “explain to me how that happened?”

It was presented as a question, but Bucky knew better, Steve’s gloved hand gently caressed his face. Bucky stood deathly still, waiting, Steve raised both brows, “Well pal?”

Bucky cleared his throat, “Well–”

“Mr. Barnes, he is going to be alright.” Dr. Cho’s voice rose above Steve’s as she walked through the office door, she froze as she lifted her gaze from her bloodied gloves, “Oh, I’m sorry…”

Steve’s gaze flicked to her, then back to Bucky, “Who's going to be alright?”

Bucky swallowed, “I… uh. I saved a kid…”

Steve’s demeanor softened, “Is that why you lost Whitehall?”

Bucky nodded slowly, “They were gonna kill him, Steve.”

Steve patted Bucky’s cheek lightly, “Show me.”

Bucky moved towards the office, following Dr. Cho, to find the kid lying asleep on the office couch, his stomach “He’s no older than thirteen, from the looks of him, Mr. Barnes. You got him to safety just in time.”

He took a step closer, “Has he said anything?”

She shook her head, “No, he's been unconscious since I finished patching him, must've passed out from the pain. Poor child, wondering what he was doing mixed up with Hydra.”

Bucky turned to Steve, “Look pal, I’m sorry, I couldn’t just leave ’em–”

Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder shaking his head, “Don’t apologize for having mercy. It’s what separates us from Hydra, Buck.”

“Yeah, but I failed you, Odin will send Thor because of my incompetence.”

Steve bobbed his head, “Probably, but who's to say we won't get to Red Skull first.” a smirk pulled at his lips.

“How are we gonna do that?”

Shrugging Steve went back into the main hall, “Pretty sure you brought Wade a snack…” he gazed at Bucky, “What do you say Right Hand, think this scumbag has the info we’re looking for?”

Bucky drew his brows together, “Punk?”

Steve chuckled at his shock, “Couldn't imagine anyone else by my side…” he nodded back to the office where the kid was sleeping, “You made the right decision. Whether Odin sees it that way or not, I do. Let’s get the bastard that is vile enough to order a hit on a child.”

Bucky’s lips curled in a malicious smile, turning towards Wade and the subject, it was time to work, “Hey Snack!”

—

The subject they had detained happened to be none other than the third in command under Red Skull, Heinz Kruger, and it turns out that he wasn't good with knife wounds. Or Wade was just really adept with a knife, either way, he sang like a canary. Red Skull turned out to be Johann Schmidt, Bucky smiled as he pulled up to the establishment Kruger had given him as Red Skull’s base of operations, Club Hypnosis, he scoffed at the cliché name.

It was past midnight, but the club was still thriving, the multicolored lights flashing behind the closed security door, leaning against the wall, he banged on the door, causing a Hydra goon to step out. Taking the opportunity, Bucky grabbed him, disarming him, then shoving the goons own knife into his throat, he left him in the alley as he slipped through the door.

The thump of the music disguising Bucky’s suppressed shots as he expertly took down the security on the way to the main office upstairs. Irate voices rose from behind the door, he recognized Whithall’s and the other he assumed was Johann, “Idiot! We will never be anything more than what we are if we cannot even kill a child!”

“Herr Schmidt, he will understand, we cannot just keep cleaning his messes, the other families will start to question–”

Checking his ammunition, Bucky burst through the door, “Hello boys… the kid sends his regards.”

Two shots left Bucky’s gun, each hitting their mark between both the sons of bithches eyes, he picked up his phone, dialing Steve, “Steve, it’s done” He whispers, shooting Johann one more time in the chest, “For the kid” he whispers, walking from the club, the party goers not aware of the death that now stained the floors. He made his way back to his home; to his brothers.

—

Bucky trudged through the door to the family mansion, the house was quiet, aside from the soft whispers and laughter coming from the kitchen, quietly he made his way there, standing quietly in the doorway.

Steve sat at the bar, the kid sitting next to him, Alpine resting quietly in the kid’s lap, “So Peter, where are you from?” Steve asked, taking a bite of the ice cream in front of him.

Peter. That was his name. He wasn't just a nameless victim, and as long as Bucky was breathing, he would always be protected.

Around a spoonful of Rocky Road, Peter answered, “Qu… Queens, Mr. Rogers.” Bucky smiled, as he watched Steve initiate the kid into the House of Rogers. Bucky’s heart swelled, he now had two little brothers to keep an eye on, to protect with his life.

~Welcome Home Queens~

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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not a soldat | part 9.

Summary: Y/N L/N is not a superhero. No serums, no agencies. Just a civilian from a long line of family that’s served in the military. Y/N’s a history buff and bit of a spy in her own special way. This somehow lands her in trouble she never saw coming and straight into the hands of Falcon, Captain America, and Black Widow… if she doesn’t get caught in the unbreakable grasp of the Winter Soldier first.

Warning for the Series: violence, angst, slow burn

Pairing: Bucky x black!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You slipped your hand in Bucky’s as T’Challa led you to the lab in the palace. He knew they were good guys but scientists still put Bucky on some sort of edge. The tapping pattern of your fingers on his hand was a calming lullaby. Bucky didn’t even think you were aware that you were doing it.

“(Y/N), Bucky, this is Shuri. Head of Wakanda’s Science and Technology Department.”

“And our idiot king’s sister,” she said the minute T’Challa turned the corner and left the lab.

You laughed as you shook her hand. It was clear that Shuri was probably too young to be in charge of Wakanda’s science but that made you like her more. She had to be wicked smart in order to pull that off.

“Mr. Barnes, I assure you we will do everything to make your experience comfortable. May we examine your metal arm?”

Bucky nodded. He removed his hand from yours and hopped onto the examining table. Shuri pulled over her rolling chair for you to sit and watch them work. They detached Bucky’s arm and he looked like a weight was lifted off of him. He answered their questions as best as he could and went in for the initial MRI scans.

“It’s complicated, HYDRA was not very neat in what they did but I suppose that was the point,” Shuri started. “But don’t worry Mr. Barnes. It wasn’t good enough to stop us. However we have to warn you that there will be side effects.”

“Side effects?”

“We can’t get rid of the Winter Soldier, just combine him with Bucky. Undoing your programming will undo the blackout feature. It’s not a guarantee but there is a high potential that the Winter Soldier memories will slowly seep into your own.”

“I’ll remember every fucked up thing I’ve ever done.”

“At no fault of your own. But we understand if you no longer want to do this.”

“No, doc. I’m here for this.”

“One more thing. It would only be for a few weeks, no more than four truly but we would need to put you under. The procedure works best if you are in cryo.”

Bucky tensed up. You knew that this would be the make or break factor for him. He nodded solemnly and let them lead him towards the chamber. Despite it being much sleeker than HYDRA’s chamber, Bucky’s breath still quickened as he saw the fog of ice roll out.

“Hey, hey, Bucky look at me.”

He turned to face you. All the other scientists gave him the space he needed but he wasn’t calming down. Bucky was taking constant shallow breaths in but not really breathing out. He looked at the chamber behind him, shaking his head.

“I need you to order me to do it,” he said, looking you in the eye.

“What? Bucky, no.”

“I can’t do it. I— I can’t go back in that thing unless I’m told to do it.”

“I don’t even know the Russian…”

“That’s a lie. I know you’ve seen and heard them enough… please.”

The last word came out as a pained whisper. You broke when you looked at the pleading in his eyes. It was for him. You watched the panicking stop as the emotion slowly faded with each word.

“Freight car.”

“Ready to comply.”

“Please get into the chamber, Soldat.”

Shuri placed a hand on your arm once the scientist finished hooking up Bucky’s chamber to their monitors.

“You did the right thing,” Shuri said.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“He will be okay. Would you like to set up your office on my spare workbench? You can watch us work on him.”

“Thank you, Shuri.”

You became the lab’s cheerleader. Whenever you needed a break from your work, you would roam around the tables and sit while one of them explained whatever they were working on to you. You had returned to your mini office space when T’Challa came in and set a bunch of boxes on your desk.

“What is this?”

“Wakanda never opened up to the world so we keep all our documents here. This is only the past few kings and War Dogs’ records for now.”

“Oh thank you for more work.”

Shuri was the only scientist who would openly laugh at you sassing T’Challa but the others had their heads down to hide their smiles. T’Challa decided he liked it better when you didn’t know him that well and were generally quiet. You picked up the first record and opened it.

“Xhosa. I swear I never get just English anymore, do you have a dictionary for me?”

“Box to the left.”

“Do you want these only transcribed and decoded or can I give it to the UN? Or just S.H.I.E.L.D. division?”

“Just transcribed and decoded.”

You nodded, expecting that to be his answer. Not many countries liked for you to send their work to the UN immediately, lots of secrets. You had come to grips with the fact that you forever had a target now that you knew the secrets of damn near every government in the world. But what made you feel better was the fact that anyone after you wasn’t being sent by any government officials— not unless they wanted all of their secrets spilled. It felt weird working under S.H.I.E.L.D with their new position, since they weren’t assigned to a single country neither were you. T’Challa watched you set down the record and walk over to Bucky’s chamber.

“I’m going to lunch, Buck.” You tapped twice on the small window of his chamber and then once. “Does anyone want anything?”

A few scientists shook their kimoyo bracelets to indicate they’d send you a message. While you were there, Shuri insisted that you wear the work attire of the office which meant kimoyo beads for everyone that worked in the lab.

“Does she do that often?” T’Challa asked when you left.

“Update him every time she leaves the lab?” a scientist spoke up.

“It’s kind of cute,” another one said. “Whenever she leaves us those sticky notes, she puts one on his cryo container as well.”

“Brother, when will you find yourself a girlfriend like that?”

“She and Barnes aren’t together.”

The lab got quiet as the tinkering slowed. They looked at Bucky’s calm face in cryo and around at each other before the humming of a working lab started up again.

“(Y/N) and him… then you really have no game, bro. Ah, out of my lab!” Shuri ushered T’Challa away before he could argue with her.

Okoye looked behind her after seeing one of her Dora Milaje smirk. You were standing in an ankara print dress with matching headscarf, clutching a big journal to your chest. You had gone to find T’Challa or Queen Mother Ramona in regards to a few pages of the War Dog journal from 1993 that you had started. When you couldn’t find them you were headed back to the lab, taking a different route. You stumbled upon the Dora Milaje training and couldn’t draw your eyes away.

You went wide-eyed as Okoye bounded over to you realizing you had been caught. The Dora Milaje laughed as you shook your head when Okoye pulled you over towards them. You were cute to them. The historian. Someone with a lot of importance but couldn’t fight for shit. But they respected you— not everyone had to be a fighter to make a difference.

“How are you?” they greeted.

“I’m good, thank you, I didn’t mean to interrupt your training. You ladies are just so incredible. I was actually looking for T’Challa, I can’t seem to find any of these words in the Xhosa dictionary.”

You opened the journal to show Okoye. She looked at the few words you pointed to, having no clue how you had the patience to read the faded letterings.

“See, the only word I could find was Jabari.”

“Jabari?” one of the Dora Milaje spoke. “I’m from the Jabari tribe. It might not be Xhosa, we also speak Igbo.”

“Igbo?” You repeated to make sure it was what she actually said.

“Yes.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll get that dictionary from the palace library then.”

“How is he? Mr. Barnes?” Another woman asked you.

“Bucky is doing well, Steve and Tony stopped by last week. I need to call Steve to come back after their mission. They’re taking him out this evening, I busted out my best dress for this.”

You made the Dora Milaje laugh as you twirled around, the clinking of dog tags rang out— the tight bodice of the dress made it impossible to tuck them in. When you spun, the bottom of the dress flew up enough that they could see the serrated knife in its familiar place of the strap on your thigh. It wasn’t because you didn’t feel safe in Wakanda, on the contrary you knew no one would hurt you here. You had just gotten so used to wearing it that it became an accessory as common as a wristwatch.

“Not that he’ll even notice,” you said with a snort after you had stopped twirling.

“He’ll be out in time for the official coronation.”

“Yes!” they smiled as your face lit up. “I’ve read about it in a few journals now, so fascinating. I think Buck will like it too… and the new arm.”

“New arm?”

“I thought he might not want the one from HYDRA and Mandla said he could draw up the plans and make one.”

“Mr. Barnes is lucky to have such a thoughtful girlfriend.”

“Hmm? Oh, Buck’s not my boyfriend,” you said nonchalantly. You adjusted the journal in your arms to hold up the kimoyo beads in your line of sight, reading the text on the hologram.

“I’ve got to go, they’re taking him out now.”

The Dora Milaje watched you walk quickly towards the lab with a newfound pep in your step. Even Okoye took a few minutes out of training to try and figure out your words. You two were joined at the hip and they had assumed it was because of a relationship.

The only person Bucky focused on when they opened the cryo chamber was you sitting at Shuri’s work station. You waited patiently for the scientists to run their checks and do what they need to do. He was calm as they went through everything. Bucky was already making peace with the Winter Soldier memories, acknowledging it happened but trying not to let the guilt eat him. Bucky came up to you with a goofy expression on his face.

“If I hear one more description of your dinner, (Y/N).”

“You could hear me? Why did no one tell me he could hear me the whole time?”

The lab erupted with laughter. The scientists had to have a little bit of fun and you were an easy target the first time they caught you talking to Bucky in the cryo chamber.

“The dress is nice. Heels? You get all dolled up for me, darlin’?”

“So this is Bucky Barnes. Were you such a flirt in the 40s?”

Bucky picked up the dog tags around your neck. “Only for a pretty dame like you.”

He smiled as you huffed out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. The scientists tilted their heads and Shuri met eyes with her brother. T’Challa shrugged; you and Barnes insisted you were just friends— both of you confused why anyone would think otherwise. Everyone accepted that there was a lot of time you and Bucky spent together with no one else that probably blurred strange lines and boundaries. You two wouldn’t tell anyone about Romania as if it was some secret that needed to be kept.

“Speaking of 40s…”

“I already don’t like where this is going,” Bucky said in a joking manner.

“Will you take me dancing? My grandpa talked about it a lot, seems like fun.”

“Miss (L/N), he needs time to heal and relax. Maybe after we give him his new arm,” one of the scientists said.

Bucky looked to Shuri. “Can I give her one dance? I’ve kind of owed her since—”

“Since you threw Steve into my bus in D.C. Made me do your notebook but won’t teach me Romanian, won’t take me dancing—”

“Printesa.”

“Yes?”

“So you do know one word of Romanian.”

“We actually have an American jazz bar,” T’Challa offered.

“I’m from the 40s not the 20s.”

“Old is old, Bucky. Let’s go!” You turned to Shuri. “I promise just this once and then I’ll let him rest.”

“I have a feeling that even if I said no, you two would sneak out of the apartment. Just this once.”

(Part 10)...

#bucky x reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

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wandaromanova · 3 years

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Can u do a fic where fem!reader and Nat are broken up and they’re pretty hostile with each other but when one of them gets hurt on a mission they realize they’re still in love and get back together thank u if u write this :)))))))

I Love You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, violence, that’s it i believe

A/N: hi! i hit 300 followers! i posted my very first story 3 weeks ago and only had like 10 followers then. i can’t even begin to express how grateful i am that i’ve been able to bring people joy (or pain lol) with my stories. thank you. not proofread. <3

Summary: Ex-lovers Natasha and Y/N dance around their feelings for each other. They decide that hostility was the best course of action.

Word Count: 2.5K

(gif is not mine)

You and Natasha dated for a year and a half before you guys decided to call it quits. It was a mutual agreement, but there was still some sort of bad blood between the both of you that was painfully obvious. The tension could be cut with a knife.

You guys were going great at first. You both understood each other on a level that no one else could. You would do typical couple things in order to compensate for the lack of stability and domesticity you’ve both had in your lives. Movie nights, designated date nights, cuddle sessions in the late hours of the night, and literally every other cliche there was in the book.

However, you and Natasha were both raised in similar environments. From young ages, you guys were trained to conceal your true emotions and that love was for children. So, communicating with one another was something that the both of you didn’t know how to do.

You didn’t try to communicate and neither did she; and there lied the problem. Natasha would absolutely freak on you if you so much as looked at another person. You would get upset if Natasha went on a mission without informing you first. There were so many pointless arguments that occurred between you and Natasha. Arguments that could’ve been avoided or solved if you guys were able to just talk to each other.

You would say that you guys did talk… just in a higher volume than normal conversation. The yelling between you both could be heard throughout the compound. Most times, you would get so fed up and tired from the arguing, that you didn’t even know why you guys were fighting anymore. It wasn’t healthy and you knew it.

You and Natasha never once told each other the big three words. That was a line neither of you dared to cross. Like the Red Room and The Academy taught you both, love was a weakness and was nothing more than a concept believed by children. You’d like to think that actions spoke louder than words, though.

You could feel the love between you both in the way you would hold onto one another after a mission had gone wrong. You could feel it in the way Natasha worried and panicked when you’d come back from a mission with so much as a scratch above your eyebrow. However, you still could not bring yourself to tell her how you felt. Not that it would matter now, considering you guys had broken up.

It’s been five months since the breakup, and at first your plan of action was to be civil with your ex-girlfriend, but she had other plans. Natasha would bark out snarky remarks whenever you would speak up during team meetings. She began to give you cold glares whenever you walked into a room. God forbid you would even breathe in her direction, she would storm out of a room at the speed of light if you did so.

So, you began to act the same way she was. Okay, yes, it was extremely childish thinking. You should be mature, regardless of how Natasha was treating you, but you couldn’t be civil anymore. So you would treat her just as harshly as she did you. You’d send her sharper glares than she would give you. You’d never listen to anything she had to add during mission meetings, being sure to make it obvious you weren’t paying attention. And you would always counter her hostile comments that were directed towards you.

The team was currently sat in a meeting. You and Natasha were meant to be sent on a mission together, to which you both immediately objected.

“Steve, do I really have to go with that over there? I’d rather go myself and risk dying than go with her.” Natasha pointed in your direction and you were immediately offended by her statement.

“No, I would rather go and die than have to hear one more word out of your god damn mouth. You’re such a bitch.” You spoke as you stood up from your seat, Natasha following suit. Natasha walked across the room and stopped in front of you. She harshly shoved a finger against your chest.

“What the fuck did you just call me? You better take it back before I make sure you never talk again.” Natasha glared at you intensely as she stared into your eyes. You returned her stare with a bored expression on your face.

“I said you’re a bitch. What are you going to do about it, Widow?” You asked her challengingly. Natasha moved to pounce on you, but Bucky, who was sitting next to your spot, sprung in and intervened.

“Let her go Barnes. I’d love to kick her ass.” You smirked as your words only enraged Natasha more. She struggled against Bucky’s grip, trying to free herself so she could pound your face into the floor, but she couldn’t break free.

“Okay! Enough. Natasha, you’re off the mission. Y/N, you’re with me. We leave in 10.” Steve spoke with conviction in his voice, fed up with the pair of you. Natasha stopped resisting Bucky’s hold as he slowly let her go. You looked at her with one harsh glare before you took the mission file that was on the table and walked out of the room. As you left, everyone in the room stared at Natasha. She huffed and stormed out of the room as well.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

You and Steve were currently staked out in a van. You guys were spying on one of the leaders of Hydra and an infamous weapons dealer. The man was currently having a lunch with the dealer. You had been sitting there together for about an hour. You were bored out of your mind and pissed that you couldn’t get Natasha out of your mind. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for thinking about how hot she looked when she pissed. The way her eyes would widen, showing off more of her green irises as her eyebrows furrowed together in anger. The way her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths. God, she had such nice boobs.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Fury’s voice coming in through comms. “Okay, we evacuated civilians off of the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Remember, wait until they’re in front of the alley before you attack. They may have weapons.” Fury informed you both and you looked onto the monitor to confirm the empty street. Sure enough, there wasn’t a civilian in sight; good.

Steve replied with a quick “okay” before movement from the door of the restaurant caught your attention. “Steve, there they are. Move out, now.” You spoke as you loaded your gun and attached it to your hip. You and Steve jumped out of the van. Steve threw his shield and hit both of the men with it. His shield came back to him as if ricocheted off of the men.

Your gun was pointed at the both of them as you guys approached them. “Meeting in broad daylight? Doesn’t seem like a smart move for two supposedly genius people.” You spoke as Steve searched the two men for any weapons. They didn’t have any. That should’ve been a red flag, but you weren’t in the right state of mind right now.

Suddenly, another van pulled up in front of the alleyway, right behind the vehicle you both had just exited. Hydra Agents with semi-automatic guns filed out of the van. Fuck. You guys were set up. Steve shared a look with you before he threw his shield toward the men and knocked the guns out of a few of the agent’s hands.

You began to fire towards the men with your own gun. You shot them in the shoulders, sending them flying to the ground in pain. You and Steve made quick work of the men and soon enough, there were unconscious men littered across the floor.

You and Steve turned back to the two men you had previously captured as they laid on the floor in shock. They really thought their little stunt would work? Pathetic. Unfortunately, one of the Hydra agents was still conscious. You and Steve failed to notice the movement behind your backs. The man pointed a nearby gun at you and fired 5 shots at you. He missed three of them, but managed to land two into your abdomen.

You fell to the ground as Steve whipped around and actually knocked the man unconscious this time. “Fury, we need backup! L/N is down!” He spoke frantically into comms as he applied pressure to your wounds. Your eyes were open in shock as you tried to process what just happened. You were shot. It really did hurt like a bitch. What are those black spots? God, I want Natasha right now. Wait, what? No, it’s just the blood loss talking.

You fell unconscious as soon as the backup S.H.I.E.L.D agents appeared on the scene. You were rushed back to the Avengers Compound in one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s vehicles, Steve following you after ensuring the two men were detained. As soon as the car made it to the compound, your unconscious body was placed onto a gurney and you were being rushed to the medical wing.

As your body was being rolled through the halls of the compound, you were pushed by the doctors past Natasha. She did a double take and quickly turned around to confirm what she had just saw. Her heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of your limp, blood-covered body. She ran after you without a second thought, fear and dread taking over.

Natasha tried to enter the medical wing where they had just taken you, but she was stopped by a strong hand abruptly placing itself onto her shoulder. “Nat, we need to let them take care of her. We’d only be disturbing them and we need their focus to 100% be on Y/N.” Steve said in an attempt to convince the redhead to stop her plan of barging into the room like a madwoman. Natasha took one last glance at the door before she heavily sighed and walked to the wall across the door. She slid her back slowly against the wall and placed her head in her hands.

“What happened, Rogers?” Natasha asked, afraid of hearing the answer. Steve went over the events of the mission, and all Natasha could think was that she should’ve been there with you. She would’ve jumped in front of that bullet to save you in a heartbeat because she loved you. Wait. She loved you? Holy fuck! She loved you!

Natasha’s heart rate increased rapidly at her self revelation. She has loved you this entire time. God, she was so fucking blind. How could she not see what was right in front of her? She was madly in love with you. She let the things the Red Room drilled into her affect your relationship. Now, she wasn’t sure if she’d have the opportunity to make it up to you. That thought scared Natasha more than any mission ever could.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

1 hour later

An hour later, and the entire team was sprawled across the hallway of the medical wing. Wanda sat beside Natasha on the floor, comfortingly holding her hand. The rest of the team just stood, anxiously and impatiently waiting to hear about your status.

At the sound of the medical bay door opening, Natasha shot up from her spot on the floor and looked towards Helen Cho. “What’s her status? Is she okay? Did she make it?” Natasha immediately fired off questions at the Doctor. The team stood firmly behind Natasha as they looked at Dr. Cho, their eyes asking her the same questions Natasha did.

“She coded on the table a few times. The bullets hit some major arteries, but we managed to stop the bleeding. If she had arrived even a minute later than she did, she wouldn’t have made it.” The relief of the good news radiated off of earth’s mightiest heroes. Natasha almost let tears escape her eyes, but quickly blinked them back.

“Can I see her?” Natasha asked desperately. “Yes you can, but shes still asleep. The anesthesia was very strong so she’ll be out for a few more hours.” Helen spoke as she opened the door for Natasha. She entered and let out a sigh of relief as she caught sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. Natasha grabbed a nearby chair and placed it right beside your bed. She lightly stroked your hair before she gripped your hand.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

3 hours later

You groaned as you slowly open your eyes and were met with an obnoxiously bright light hovering over you. You heard some shuffling before the light was shut off. You turned your head towards the other person in the room and you rolled your eyes at who it was.

“If you’re here to be an asshole, please leave. I’m not in the mood for it.” You spoke as you watched Natasha sit back down in the chair next to your bed.

“I’m not here for that. I wanted to apologize, Y/N. You were right, I was a bitch. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, but I was just afraid.” Natasha began to speak as she seemingly appeared nervous. You’ve never seen her nervous before, you’re pretty sure no one ever has.

“I was so terrified because I love you. Everyone I love ends up leaving me, and I couldn’t watch you leave me. So, I thought it was best if I beat you to the punch.” Natasha looked down to her lap and played with her fingers absentmindedly. Your eyes widened as far as they could go at Natasha’s words. She loved you. She actually, verbally said it. That’s a huge fucking deal.

“I know my logic may not make the best sense, but what does make sense is the fact that I love you. I always have and I was just too stupid to tell you. I’m sorry, I love you so much.” Natasha spoke as she tore her gaze from her hands and up to your eyes.

You reached your hand out for hers and she shakily took your hand in hers. You almost let out a gasp at the contact, you missed her touch so much. “I won’t ever leave you, Natasha because I love you too. I’m sorry too. I was just as afraid as you were. We were both stupid.” You let out a little laugh at your last words. Natasha let out a chuckle as a tear fell from her eyes. Oh god, you’ve never seen her cry either.

“You scared me. I thought you weren’t going to make it. When I saw your body being wheeled down here…. all the blood… I-“ Natasha words were cut off as you smashed your lips against hers. You winced as the pain from your gunshot wounds radiated across your body, but you couldn’t care less about that right now. The only thing that mattered in this moment was that the woman you loved, loved you too. You’d never be afraid to express your love for her ever again.

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

-------------

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

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ohtobeleah · 3 years

Text

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier season Two: Agent Avery

Prologue: “Cut off one head…”

Summary: During an intense interrogation, your existence is made obsolete when half the population is turned to dust. What felt like a mere five minutes was in fact— five years. Setting out on an undercover op to observe the newly pardoned Super Soldier post blip.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Canon level violence. Bucky Barnes x female reader. Infinity war/endgame timeline. Pre FATWS.

The bone cracking sounds behind the knuckle busters that connected with the side of your cheek were enough to drown out a room full of men who seemed to take great pride in their work. Silence filling the underground hideaway, a derelict sewer under the streets of Los Angeles. men of all backgrounds stunned into silence as you groaned. Blood dripped down from your mouth like a leaking tap, spitting the rest that had pooled between your lips, turning your head slowly to look back at the man who’d broken your jaw. Through swollen eyes, you gave him a daring look. Challenging him with a small smirk as the eyes of the men who stood behind him, watching on, stood still—unable to breathe under what they’d consider to be the stupidity of some silly little girl playing eye spy.

“Is—is that the—“ you struggled to speak, trying to steady your vision as your head felt flimsy. “Is that all you’ve got?” You’d only ever known him by one name. Hickory. But as you spent more personal time getting to know the man who’d been powering up the old elitist, the sadistic and narcissistic, the god awful power hungry world dominating psychopaths that still believed in the ideologies that Hydra had operated on—you’d come to know his first name too. Vincent Hickory, his henchmen called him Vick. Drug Tycoon, gang boss with a mean streak. His hand twisted and turned in the birds nest of a mess that was your blood soaked hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. Hissing through bloodied gritted teeth you tried your best to focus on the man who towered over you like some deranged God.

“You really think nows the time to be a fucking smart-ass dear?” He sneered, face so close to yours you could almost feel his lips on yours in a way you never wanted to. “You’ve got a lot of nerve miss Avery, now, tell me where Barnes is before I decide you’re life is meaningless.”

“I don’t know where—“ you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before the back of Vick’s hand was colliding with your swollen, cut and bruised cheek. You couldn’t help the Yelp that escaped. “I swear—“ again, every time you said you didn’t know, over and over, until you felt your lungs collapsing under the pressure of broken ribs. The chair your body bound to surely about to break. Ropes digging into fragile skin—leaving behind burns. “I don’t know where he is” you whispered. Vick sighed, obviously disappointed. “I wouldn’t tell you if I did, so just kill me, because you aren’t getting shit from me.” Allowing you to slump into a pile of defeat as you tried your best to remain conscious.

As you waited for the final blow, the bullet wound that would surely take you, the possible stable wound, the final blow, something—anything, you tried to remember why you were doing what you were. What you were so desperately trying to protect, who you were protecting. Of course you knew where James Buchanan Barnes was—he was in Wakanda, half way across the world, recovering. It was in the case file Fury had given you.

“Agent Avery—“ you heard your name being called from the chief Dawsons office. Unbeknownst to you at the time it was the start of a new way of life. Everything you’d ever known was about to change, thrown out the window. You relinquished your toasted cheese and ham sandwich from your grasp, sighing as you dropped it to your partner Lewis’s desk on the paper plate it came on. Balling up the napkin you’d whipped your face with. You’d been sitting on the desk with your legs hung over the side, casually trying to enjoy a quick lunch. “A moment please? If I’m not interrupting?” The chiefs sarcasm was just as tasteful as your lunch.

“This is a dear friend of mine.” You couldn’t help by stare at the eyepatch that covered severe scaring as you shut the door behind you—taking a seat slowly as you frowned your brows in confusion. “Nick Fury, he’d like you to work a case in liaison with what was formerly known as S.H.E.I.L.D.”

“I wasn’t aware S.H.E.I.L.D was still a thing?” You responded. Fury handed you the very case file that changed your life. Crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned of chief Dawson’s desk.

“You’d be on your own essentially, I need someone who can disappear, dissolve themselves, hide in plain sight, take down an organisation that’s like a parasite once and for all.” Fury was as serious as you’d ever heard someone be. “I hear you’re interested in secret service?” Nick questioned, you flipped through the case file, nodding quietly in response. “I can promise an in if you do this for me, I’m all outta options.” It was a career changing opportunity you’d been chasing for years, you’d been trying to prove yourself, be noticeable, be better then the rest. You looked over at chief Dawson who offered you a supportive smirk. It was as easy as leading a camel to water, it was just one of the most manipulative things Nick Fury had ever done. But he was determined to get to job done, he didn’t want an army of Super Soldiers running around. He could barely handle the ones he’d come into contract with so far.

“I’ll do it—“ you never should’ve said yes.

You weren’t going to be the person to take that away from Bucky, especially since you’d been tasks to try and infiltrate and assassinate the very people who dreamed his life something of import to them. His blood, the very serum that pumped through his veins. You could feel your body slowly giving up on you. The very desire to just give into temptation and close your eyes was coaxing you to the edge.

“You’re either naive or stupid, or possibly both.” Hickory hissed, his open hand coming to once more collide with your face—leaving a stinging sensation that burned your broken skin. Turing to his men, spitting at your feet as you gave in. Slumping over yourself as the ropes that bound you supported your dead weight against the chair. “Get ride of her, dump her somewhere—make sure she’s dead and buried, I don’t want her coming back.” Smirking as he leaned over, his hands digging into his knees for support as he leaned in to kiss your blooded forehead, a hand pressing your head to his lips from behind, blood from your hair staining Vicks tattoo covered hands. “Seeya later princess, it was nice knowing you—“ the wink he sent your way sending shivers down your body as he slide a piece of gum casually into his mouth. “Hail Hyrda.” He chewed with a grin. Turning on his heals as he pulled a gun from the small of his back—tucked away into his jeans under his shirt. Checking the clip casually before handing it heavily to his second in command, Miles Mills. “Between the eyes.” He murmured in Miles ear, loud enough so you could hear it still. Damn it—he was just a kid. It wasn’t long before Miles had his hands on you, un-tying the ropes that bound you. Dragging you along the concrete as you doubled over, leaving a trail of blood from your broken body. He was struggling just at much as you were.

“Walk—“ he hissed. You didn’t listen, struggling against his grasp as you fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The gun in Miles hand falling beside you, exactly how you’d hoped it would. Reaching out in the blink of an eye through clouded vision you turned from your stomach to your back, firing at anyone and anything you could make out.

“Touch me again and I’ll kill you.” You spat, pointing the gun directly at Miles as he held his hands up beside his head. You couldn’t even stand, but you had a damn gun. The odds evened out. “The CIA know you’re here, it’s over Mills.”

“I can’t.” Miles voice broke, he was just a kid, barley eighteenth. “It can’t be—you don’t know what they’ll do if you do this.” It almost sounded as if he was begging you to give up, he was scared—terrified even. “Vick won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

“At the expense of others!” You hissed. Holding your upper body up on one elbow that dug into gravel as you held the gun high at Miles. Tears in his eyes.

“It’s always been at the expense of others Agent, I just go with whatever Vick tells me to do.” There was something deeper, something more sinister behind Miles reasonings for doing the things he did. Why would an eighteen year old stumble his way into organised crime? The answer, you don’t stumble unless you’re shoved.

“But why? You’re just a kid Miles, I can hel-help you.” you’re head felt so heavy but everything else felt weak, light as a feather, goosebumps rising over your entire body. So many different sensation taking over your body all at once. Your stomach churned, your head throbbed, your blood boiled and everything, everything hurt. “C’mon, help me out kid, I can help you.” You slowly started the lower your gun—shaking. But at the sight of your weakness, Miles jumped you. Swatting the gun from your grip as he straddled your waist, pinning you down by your neck as his hands constricted your airways. “Miles—“ you gasped, clawing at his arms in a last stitch effort to save your own life.

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Miles spat, his grip only tightening as you began to panic. Chocking you out as your legs began to fade. Turn to dust. It felt like nothingness. Slowly but surely creeping it’s way up your body.

“I’m so over hearing you psychopath’s say that.” You chocked out, Miles fell to the floor, your body disappearing before him, his hands gripping together as your neck dissolved under his touch. Panic consuming his entire being as he scrambled away—horrified. What had he done? He was only 18.

“Jesus Christ—“ looking around Miles panicked, grabbing the gun you’d lost in the scrabble before sprinting off to find Vick. Hoping the poorly put together cover story would pass. He’d finished the job, six feet under, dead and buried, a none issue to the new world order Victor was so set on achieving—an elitist power. At the same time half way across the world, Bucky felt the same unimaginable sensation you had. The feeling of pins and needles, nothingness, weightlessness. Looking out for his best friend with a worried look and concerned tone. “Steve?”

It felt like you’d passed out, fallen asleep under the aid of heavy painkillers. Coming to on the gravel groggy headed and confused. Pushing yourself up onto your knees you felt your face, normal—unscathed, like the he beating you’d just taken never happened. Beside a throbbing headache you felt fine. Looking around the derelict sewer style hide away.

where had everyone gone?

***~***~***~***One Month Later***~***~***~***~

Bucky sat eyeing off the receptionist who looked way too familiar for his paranoia. His leg shook as he tossed the idea back and forth in his head, should he say hello? With his gloved hands intertwined with one another, Bucky let out a sigh as he stood—sauntering over to where the receptionist counter was in the lobby of the building where he regularly saw his court mandated therapist. Christina Raynor. Making his presence known, Bucky reach into the bowl of hard single wrapped candies. Popping one into his mouth as he leaned over the counter. It was one of those counters like in doctors surgeries—the ones that are higher and hide the staff behind them.

“I know you from somewhere other than here—I can’t put my finger on it?” Bucky’s voice was soft, like he was afraid that his question would either startle you or annoy you. He was still learning to make conversation, struggling just slightly more with those he found attractive. “You spying on me?” Bucky teased, the first thought that came to his mind. Maybe you were some Russian spy, that’s where he’d known you, seen you. Were you a friend of a friends from work? had he accidentally stumbled across you while in his former Winter Soldier days? Where you an assassin? Or were you simply a face he didn’t want to forget? Whatever it was, whoever you were, Bucky didn’t think his simple question, the one that dripped with sarcasm, he didn’t think he’d receive the reaction he got.

“What?” You quickly shot your head up with wide eyes, looking at Bucky like you’d seen a ghost. “No? What makes you say that?” You tried to play your reaction off. Simply turning back to your monitor—trying to calm the fuck down. “There’s no such thing as spy’s right? aren’t they reserved for James Bond movies?” Keeping your head low and eyes engaged with the documents that’s lit up your monitor. The patient profile of Doctor Raynor’s current patient Michelle Pascoe. Bucky frowned his brows—surely you were kidding, choosing to ignore the comment and persevere in his mission to remember where he’d seen you before.

“Have I seen you at Izzy? My neighbour Yori makes me go there with him, kinda this sweet old man who’s only got a few people around him.” Bucky was rambling, he knew that. But he couldn’t help himself. He’d seen you somewhere. Determined to remember. You sighed softly, you knew Yori, you’d occasionally help him bring in his groceries, the brown paper bags would always break. You’d only known him about a week and in that time he’d managed to need your assistance five out of seven days.

“The apartment complex on fifth avenue, apartment 3B, pretty sure you’re 3C? ” You hadn’t even looked up from your computer monitor. “I’ve seen you around a few times, Yori? Nice guy—likes the patterns on the sundress I wore when I helped him pick up the apples that’d broken through the bottom of the grocery bag he was holding.” You chuckled. “I just moved in, maybe a week ago now? Still refurbishing the place—the land lady Mrs Shapiro, she was very quick to warn me about the psycho killer who I was moving next door too—made me sign a waiver and everything.”

“I’ll need your first, last, and security deposit my dear, are you sure you wanna move in here? I don’t know if I feel comfortable with the man who’d be living next door.” Leaning closer the little old woman whispered in your ear. “He’s the Winter Soldier—“ you held your tongue, never had you ever been more offended on someone’s behalf before. Maybe it was because you’d spent the better half of the last few months learning everything there was to know about James Buchanan Barnes—pre and post Winter Solder. Faking a soft smile you nodded. Excepting that ignorance could be bliss.

“Really just need an apartment Mrs Shapiro, I’ll take it.”

Finally looking up you met Bucky’s blueberry eyes and sheepish smile. Still leaning over the counter on his elbows. He looked tired—like he’d barley slept. It wasn’t hard to understand why, you could sometimes hear the screams that echoed off the walls in Bucky’s apartment. Exercising his own demons, the ones that plagued his subconscious.

“Great—I love that.” Bucky sighed, shaking his head softly in disappointment—of course that little old Vietnamese women saw Bucky as a monster, of course she did. Carding his fingers nervously through his recently cut hair, still not used to the change of weight that usually dawned his head. You couldn’t help the soft chuckle you let out at his response, symptomatic. “That’s where I know you from.” Bucky finally put two and two together. His mind easing knowing you weren’t some undercover spy spying on him. Oh the irony. “I saw you in the elevator, must’ve been the same day, Yori was going on about frangipane’s for hours.” you beamed up at Bucky, you really liked that sundress.

“Margot.” You reached your hand out to shake Bucky’s. Margot Miller.” It was a new alias, new identity—knew life. Told to go deep undercover at Nick Fury’s and Chief Dawson’s instructions. Only ever reach out if absolutely necessary, don’t bring attention to yourself, lay low—keep an eye on Barnes. Playing the roll of sweet talking receptionist and “can I borrow a cup of sugar?” Neighbour. Playing neighbour’s wasn’t a hard task. It was nice to have somewhat of a taste of normalcy after everything that’s had happened. From almost being snuffed out, being dusted during the blip. This was a walk in the park compared to what you’d been doing prior. “Nice to meet you neighbour.” Bucky took your hand softly, shaking for a few moments before he retracted. “Been coming here long?”

“Against my will for about a month now, I haven’t seen you here before?” Bucky already knew you were a better receptionist then the guy he’d had to hand his paperwork to four weeks ago. He even thought coming the therapy might become a little less strenuous with a familiar face around.

“New job, kinda just got the gig—today’s my third day, pretty easy, just receptionist bullshit and all.” Bucky chuckled under his breath. He could only imagine how nice it must be to have something so normal as a boring nine to five office. “From what I gather, Christina’s pretty cool.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“It’s an act, once she gets me behind those doors she’s completely different.” Bucky liked the dress you were wearing, office casual. Simple but it made yourself eyes seem bright, or maybe it was the lighting in the building he hated coming to, or maybe? You just had a thing for nice dresses. He’d have to ask Yori. You could see Doctor Raynor peering out from her door. Gesturing she was ready for Bucky.

“Ahh—Doctor Raynor’s ready for you.” You looked down at your monitor, pretending you couldn’t remember who Bucky was. “James—“

“Bucky.” Bucky was way too quick off the mark, correcting you before you barley had a chance to say his name. “Call me Bucky.” Tapping his hand on the counter, pressing his lips together with a shy smile, pushing himself away. Walking reluctantly towards the woman who loved to pick his brain, turning to smile at you once more over his shoulder.

“Seeya Neighbour—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~***~***~***~***

Author Note: Welcome to Agent Avery rewritten. If you’d like to be added to a tag list please leave a comment below. xxx Leah

Tags: @tagakalat @winifrede @mvaldez7821

Links to In Production & The Interview Series

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strawwritesfic · 2 years

Text

Steve Rogers x Female!Reader: Date Night

Summary: A moment long, long overdue.

Rating/Warnings: All

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Date Night

Steve Rogers could think of no other time in his life when he had been as nervous as he did that night. Well, of course there had been the attack on Manhattan. And when he was facing off against Red Skull and the rest of the Hydra units. And when they’d strapped him into that machine before putting the serum into him. But still. He hadn’t been scared when any of that was happening. That night? He was scared.

Because he’d missed his date all those years ago. It wasn’t like he’d exactly been a Casanova before that, either. Now that he’d got to the point where he’d asked [F Name] [L Name] out and she’d agreed, he didn’t know quite what to do–apart from sit in his living room, dressed as nicely as he could manage, waiting for her to ring the doorbell that is.

Or knock on the door, he thought, as he heard a smart rap from across the room. Steve got to his feet, and, already sweating, rushed to the door and pulled it open so quickly that it ripped off its hinges. You stared back at him.

“Excited to see me?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, then realized he still had the door in his hand. He hastily set it back where it came from and motioned for you to come inside. “You look…you look really nice.”

“Aw, you’re sweet,” you said as you stepped in to his house.

Steve gave you a nervous smile. He didn’t know what sort of fashion was “in” during the new time period, but whatever you were wearing, he liked it. You took a minute or two to look around his sparsely accessorized living space–mostly covered in knickknacks the rest of his friends had sent him– then turned back with a business-like snap.

“Now, where are we going?”

“U-Um…” Steve could honestly say he hadn’t planned that far ahead. What was there to do on dates now? Everything else had changed so much. “Where do you want to go?”

“Uh-uh.” You shook your head but smiled at him. "It’s been long enough. I pick where to go on all my dates, and I’m sick of it. Where do you want to go?”

Steve paused, his mind racing. Of course, what it had to land on was what he had missed nearly seventy years before. He hesitated, then looked at you through his eyelashes. “Dinner and dancing?”

You smiled again as you took his arm. “It’s a date.”

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞

____________________________

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A true enemies to lovers ;)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: rapid change of POV, angry makeout, hate sex, smut 18+ (very rough sex btw), smart ass reader, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control)

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst? (i still don’t really know what classifies as angst), confused feelings, age gap (reader of age), hate sex 18+, angry makeout turned soft, smut 18+, vulgar language, brutal insults, it’s just all mean

𝐀/𝐧: sorry if the pov change got too crazy i was imagining it as if it was like a scene from a movie; just tried something new to spice things up :) also thank you guys so much for the love from only the first chapter?! you guys are literally awesome! i do have a taglist so let me know if you wanna be tagged in future parts! there’s only five chapters by the way!!!!

Taglist _____________________________

(𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)

You were hanging out with Peter after you found out that your fight with Bucky made him cry. You two had taken a walk to grab some coffee from the cafe down the street.

“Why do you and Bucky hate each other?” Peter asked you as you two were walking home.

“Oh, I don’t- I, uh… I don’t hate him,” you stuttered and hesitated, in truth you couldn’t care less what happened to the ass.

“Y/n, you say mean things to each other all the time, and you fight a lot.”

“I know. Peter, sometimes people just don’t get along. I don’t personally think Buck’s a bad guy.”

“Then why do you always fight?”

“I don’t know.”

You two got to the compound and Peter went straight to Tony and Bruce who were in the lab. You went to look for Natasha who was on a step ladder changing a bulb.

“Why are you changing a bulb? Doesn’t Vision usually do that?”

“He and Wanda… are on… and date,” she huffed trying to reach the screw.

“Do you need help?” you laughed at her struggling.

“Yeah, you’re taller than me right? You try.”

You stepped on the ladder with the bulb in hand reaching to screw it in. Steve and Bucky walked in coming up to you with concerned looks on their faces. You reached up and could barely fit the bulb in so you opted to stand on your toes. That very quickly went south however.

You fell forward on Nat making the step ladder fly sideways from under you. She grabbed you and rolled you both so you would land on the floor with minimal injury. Steve and Bucky both widened their eyes rushing to you two lay laughing loudly on the floor.

“You guys ok?” Steve asked, grabbing the step ladder.

“Yeah we’re ok-” you cut off, your laughter immediately dying from Bucky grabbing your arm and pulling you up. He grabbed your face and checked to see if you might’ve scratched yourself.

You pulled away confused.

“Why are you so fucking careless? Ask us next time,” Bucky growled.

“Careful Barnes, don’t want people to think you actually care for me,” you rolled your eyes.

That pissed off Bucky who lunged at you pushing your shoulders. You used your powers to expand a black ball of mist before thrusting it at Bucky making him stumble back. Nat and Steve dove in to stop what could be another potential disaster between you two.

“Can you two stop fighting for five fucking seconds?” Nat yelled.

“He started it!” you shouted.

“Enough! Barnes, L/n. Asses in the conference room. Now,” Fury found you guys.

You looked at Buck, who had nostrils flared breathing heavily in anger. He was fuming; and for what?

“You two have a mission,” Fury said when you two entered the conference room.

“Is that really the smartest thing to do. We don’t work well together,” Bucky said.

“The only thing smart about you is your mouth. Go on this mission, together. Any casualties will come out of your paycheck and field time.”

“What?” you both said in shock.

“I said what I said; wheels are up in 20.”

You grabbed the files handed to you by Maria and walked to your rooms to pack. Nat came into your room to ask what happened. Same with Steve and Bucky.

“What happened?” Nat asked you.

“Fury, sent us on a mission,” Bucky told Steve.

“I can’t imagine how quickly shit will the fan. I can’t stand him!” you told Nat, talking about the upcoming mission.

“I can’t stand her.”

“Why?” Steve asked Buck.

“He’s so infuriating. Like everything pisses him off…”

“She’s always angry and wants to fight.”

“Do you think maybe you like him and you’re convincing yourself you don’t by being mean?” Nat asked you.

There was a long pause as you two stared at each other before you guys burst in laughter.

“Good one,” you laughed, “Anyways, I don’t know how long this mission is so I’ll see you when I get back.”

“I don’t know how long this mission is so I’ll see you when I get back,” Bucky said to Steve patting him on the shoulder.

You both got to the quinjet, not even thinking about talking to each other. The file you both had basically said there was a fundraiser being held to mask an underground meeting for Hydra agents to meet in secret.

Not a secret anymore though.

You two arrived at the hotel still haven’t spoken a word each. All that was heard in the elevator on your way up was both your breathing echoing off the metal walls. You got in and set your stuff on the couch.

“We should set up a game plan,” you huffed.

“Ok,” he said before disappearing into the bathroom.

You rolled your eyes but began setting up what should be the tactic to approach the mission. You didn’t want to be too aggressive but being too stealth might take too long. Bucky came out of the bathroom after what seems to be having taken a shower.

“Come up with anything yet?”

“No,” you responded.

“Seriously?”

“What? It’s not like your fucking helping.”

“Watch your fucking attitude. I didn’t do anything so knock it off.”

“Whatever. Are you gonna help me or are you gonna sit there and watch me do all the work just to take credit?”

“Why would I take credit for your shitty plan that’s gonna get compromised.”

“Can you not be a dick for two seconds and be helpful for once?”

“I’m not helpful?” he stood up getting angrier every passing second.

“God, Bucky get your head out of your ass! Stop taking everything so negatively; this is why I can’t stand you!”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, princess,” Bucky walked up to you, pulling you close by wrapping his metal hand around your throat.

“Am I turning you on?” you mocked.

“Shut up!”

“Or what? You’ll spank me?” you whispered.

“Fucking bitch,” Bucky said before smashing his lips to yours.

He pushed you down on the couch, kissing you burtally. Your lips were swelling as Bucky trailed rough kisses down your throat. You wanted to moan because Bucky’s rough hands touching your body was overwhelming.

There was a harsh contrast between his hot flesh hand and his cold metal one. You finally gave in after feeling Bucky’s hard dick brushing against your thigh considering he still had only a towel around his waist from his shower.

“Does that feel good? God you fucking slut; falling apart under a man you hate,” Bucky whispered roughly in your ear.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “Fuck you, Bucky.”

He lifted your shirt and you lifted your arms so he could take it off. You stood up and Bucky fell to his knees in front of you taking your pants while you unclasped your bra.

Bucky let his poorly wrapped towel fall to the floor as he pushed you down roughly onto the couch once again. Bruising kisses were exchanged and Bucky’s hand traced your stomach following down to between your thighs.

He rubbed roughly but slowly at your clit making your hips wiggle under him.

“Fucking stay still,” Bucky said.

“God Bucky, I already don’t like you so teasing me will just make me fume.”

“Then I guess I’ll enjoy every second I get to tease you and pisssed you off.”

“Bucky,” you grunted bucking your hips into his roughly.

“Knock it off,” Bucky grabbed your throat, squeezing gently; sure he hated you and wanted you be quiet but he wasn’t trying to kill.

“You want me to fuck this pussy? Want it rough? I’ll give it to you rough then,” Bucky said hoarsely, “I'll make you scream and cry from how good my cock is. I’m gonna ruin you, babygirl.”

You whimpered and nearly screamed when Bucky thrusted into you hard and fast. Your hands held his forearms not in fear but to steady yourself when his hips started moving faster and faster. His hips dug into yours; you were getting sore already from his manic thrusts.

You moaned loudly and Bucky kepting thrusting into you ferociously chasing his orgasm. You breached the edge yourself, tears forming in your eyes. You sniffled making Bucky look at you with the slightest bit of concern on his face.

“Is it too much? I thought this is how you wanted it, you fucking cockwhore.”

“Ugh Bucky,” you moaned.

“Come on, Y/n. Cum. Let it go,” he said.

You nearly screamed in euphoria, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Bucky came inside you then collapsed on you knocking the air out of your system momentarily. You pushed him off then practically ran to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

Bucky came in you and you could feel the mixtures of both your cum dripping down your thighs. You were on the pill so you just cleaned yourself and quickly showered. When you came up Bucky had dressed himself and was writing stuff on a piece of paper; as if he hadn’t choked the shit out of ou and made you cum so hard you almost passed out.

“I came up with a plan,” he said, so normally.

“Ok.”

“Look, Y/n-”

“This never happened. We don’t fucking like each other ok? If you tell goddamn soul I will rip you apart limb by limb.”

“Then you can’t tell anyone either,” he pushed.

“As if I’d tell anyone about this.”

“Are you that repulsed by me? Admit it! That the best sex either have had, probably ever.”

“Enough, Bucky. We hate each other.”

“But-”

“James, stop!” you yelled, quieting Bucky.

“Fuck you,” he said walking out.

“The plan’s on the table, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before going to sleep.

You breathed out heavily before grabbing the paper. There was little room to make mistakes but all in all it was a good plan. You went to your own bed seeing Bucky already asleep in the other. You turned off the light and prepared yourself for what was to come tomorrow.

TAGLIST FOR SERIES:

@hoeforcuteguyswithcharmingsmiles @sweetlikesugar9 @thefifthweasley @thefallenbibliophilequote @perfectlymaximumphilosopher @kenopsiababe @montypythonsholysnail

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #enemies to lovers

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yoursinfulurges · 3 years

Text

AntiHero

[The Venom Within] <- read part one here.

Description: The events that soon followed your emotional downfall turns dark and horrifying after Hydra gains possession of your freedom.

1/2 of part 2

Warnings: Abuse. Kidnapping. Angst.

Disclaimer: In this story' venom has no conscious and is simply just the readers alter, or the readers inner thoughts and insecurities. This takes place after civil war time. So Endgame and Infinity War never happens.

____________

You huffed inaudibly, hearing your stomach roar from starvation for the fifth time this minute. You had only gotten twelve blocks away from the tower, which was still very much visible when you turned back. Annoyingly so, you tried to avoid any peripheral contact with it, in fear of changing your mind and running straight back.

Even trying your very hardest to block out any childhood memories spent there from coming back to you, as the last thing you needed was for more tears to be shed. You felt eerily deprived of sensation, and you didn't know if it was because of the cold New York air or the fact that you left a part of you behind back in that tower. The one capable of deciphering the many layers of the overwhelming apathy you ever so felt reside within you.

The one able to comprehend and break down your other feelings that remained intacted, yet almost seemed brain dead. As if not computing the sitution that had happened moments ago, defying how your tense heart truly ached. Feeling as though you were just a walking body, an empty shell of the person that once was. You knew your inner subconscious was protecting you from added trauma, and was doing the best thing it could by preventing you from feeling the complexity of it all and only allowing minor details to slide. As said feelings would only send you into a spiralling depth of anxiety.

And only god knows what would happened if your emotions alone suddenly decided it was time to have a panic attack at this very moment. Despite being greatful for the somewhat unorthodox coping mechanism that was forced upon you, you were at war with yourself. Almost angry that you couldn't process the overwhelming wave of sensations, having to submit to the black cold solitude of your mind till your brain finally decides to open up and evaluate just how badly the damage was to your mental health.

But till that happens your soul was left to wonder and yield in confusion instead of settling on one dependent emotion....

You were conflicted to no doubt.

You were angry yet, if tried hard enough and dug a bit deeper, pass the wall you built around your heart, you found yourself strangely at peace. Contradicting the forefront frustration you had with the profound perplexity of the situation, confusing you once more. As a part of you almost beams at the sudden calmness that over came you, in contrast to your outbursts merely an hour ago.

Sure, you felt a myriad of miniscule emotions coincide you, tiny enough not to affect you in any way shape or form, or take away your apathetic structure, (thankfully so). And you knew that you were definitely far from okay as of right now, especially since you were somewhat going through an existential crisis. Yet in a funny defiant kind of way you were fine. It was as if your amygdala had froze, preventing you from registering everything that had happened. Forcing you to rerun the moments leading up to here in order to get to the bottom of what your true emotions and opinions were.

You made it out of the tower unnoticed, given the fact that you dressed a lot more muted than you'd normally do. Nobody would think that it was Y/n Stark under the hood of one of Steve Rogers' old jacket. Your clothes weren't exactly ideal, but you were in no position to complain, you acted in a panic and grabbed whatever was on the way to the exit.

That being Natasha's grey hoodie and Steve's oversized leather jacket. Both laid untouched, draped over the abandoned conference room chairs. You saw it the moment you stepped out the elevator, peering through the glass walls just to confirm whether it was really their's. It was a given that the room hadn't been cleaned out yet, being that it had been months since anyone has been in there. But then again, only a few people had conformation to that area of the tower.

Without thinking, you had scanned your hand onto the access pad, and before you knew it, the glass door slid open. A decision you silently curse yourself on now for doing, since there was no doubt about it that Friday had already informed your dad that your last digital encounter was going into that room. You knew how incredibly smart that AI was, so you even made it an effort to take the route with less cameras. Even purposely running around the building, going to useless area's to confuse her in the future before sliding pass an unsupervised emergency exit.

Despite the fact that it was 1:30 AM, the streets of Manhattan was as lively as ever. Though there was a lot less traffic at this time of the night. It gave you comfort to know that you weren't completely alone walking the streets. You may be skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but at the end of the day, you were still a girl, and that fact alone made you a clear target for some.

And you doubt you could put up much of a fight, especially with how starved weak (and not to mention injured) you were. You had to be weary of who was around you at all times, stick to crowded areas yet be inconspicuous enough not to be spotted by cameras. As you knew for a fact that Friday was most likely scanning the area.

Though despite how stress driven the situation was and how fidgety you felt, you weren't completely wandering lost, you had a destination set at mind and it gave you all the hope that you needed to keep moving onward. That location being the small little Chinese restaurant tucked away at a back alley passage seven blocks away from where you were. As you were quite close with the owner, being a regular weekly. So you knew for a fact that if you asked she would let you stay for a couple of days without hesitation. The small cozy family owned business reminded you so much of your old home, back when you still lived with your mother.

After that night- or more so week spent with Tony, your mother had decided it would be best to stay put in China for a while. Delusions of starting something more than just a hook up with the oh so' brilliant Tony Stark flooded her mind. She wanted to be at arms reach for the man and stay exactly where he left her. Tony told her multiple times over the course of seven days that he'd be back for her, but he never came back...

As weeks went by your mother had come to the realization that those words were merely nothing but empty promises and drunken slurs. Thus feeding her resentment for the small little child that grew inside her. You weren't a native of China but you were born and raised there up until age eleven or twelve, when your mother passed from cancer. Your childhood for the most part was dry and barren of any affection, having to submit and be degraded to being your mother's personal maid. Despite the mistreatment you had to endure, you couldn't exactly complain because you weren't exactly suffering. You had a roof over your head and all the food and water you could ever want, not to mention access to education. From a young age you had always shown signs of carrying the infamous Stark gene, harboring a profound skill to grasp and master any subject thrown your way. At the age of only six you were already capable of speaking three different languages; English, Chinese, and French. You had all characteristics of being a Stark.

Except of course the looks.... Which was primarily why Tony didn't believe you were his child to begin with. You knew from the age of twelve that you looked more like your mother rather than your dad, but the contrast was blatantly eye striking next to the man whom was supposed to be your father. You had your mom's features more not to mention her complexion, being that your mother was [your race].

(If you're white then imagine y/n is paler or tanner than Tony, I'm Asian so....)

You had never forgotten the most pivotal and accurate representation of your relationship that unfolded the day you first met...

🕸🕷🕸

You ran towards the man stood a few feet away from you, letting go of the woman's hand. Your face beams displaying a blinding smile as you ran towards Tony.

"Dad!"

You screamed in joy running towards the male engulfing his mid waist with your arms. The man looked down at you in a fright, his brows furrowing together as he looked at the Stark family lawyer and the social worker.

He gently yet assertively pulls your arms off of him, not sparing you a glance as you looked up in question.

"Are you sure she's mine?"

Your heart drops at that moment as all becomes clear... The smile no longer present on your face as you looked down and distanced yourself away from Tony. Something no one took notice of.

"We've already done a DNA test on her sir and she's yours..." The social worker lady spoke timidly, clutching her files tightly.

"Well do two more tests, god damn it!"

Tony screamed causing you to flinch slightly. A prickling sensation of shame washing over you as you watched him begins to pace, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands in distress.

"Come here sweetie, let's go get you something to eat, you must be hungry from your flight."

A woman with ginger hair spoke lightly as she forced out a smile, extending her hand for you before glaring at the man when you took her hold.

"I want a cheese burger...."

She nodded briefly, pulling you away from the scene and straight towards the elevator.

🕸🕷🕸

And at that day was when you realized that things were only going to get more complicated from there. Because the first moment that you both met, he had already decided that he didn't want you.

Though contrary to his primal feelings, you were very much aware of your fathers attempts in searching for you, even though it had only been forty five minutes since the fight. It was reassuring but, you weren't in the mood to awe about it. You were still mad at him, and had zero plans of forgiving him any time soon. Or returning any time soon... You wanted him to worry and loose sleep, it was petty but it would be a mere compensation for the suffering he put you through.

You brush pass a halted group of people, no more than twelve, lightly shoving pass them irritably. Slightly annoyed with their odd behavior, as they all seemed to be watching something you couldn't care less about. You let out an inaudible scoff, as you walked passed them. Your attention devoted to unwrapping the bubble gum you had in hand. Harshly shoving the minty treat into your mouth before putting your bandaged hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. You heaved in relief, finally giving your roaring stomach a somewhat rest after fourteen hours of starvation. The gum was probably months old by now since you found it in Nat's hoodie, but you couldn't care less. It was only meant to sustain your hunger for twenty more minutes.

You walk at a leisurely pace, stopping slightly to push the pedestrian button at the cross walk. You watched as multiple cars pass by, rolling your eye irritably as you hear the crowd of people gasp in awe again. You normally weren't so easily agitated, but you're currently having a hard time figuring out just what your new normal would be from now on... Tapping your foot on the concrete pavement, you wished time would speed up.

"What do you think is happening up there?"

"Who knows"

"Maybe he's just testing out his new suits.'

With that, you freeze all movements. It was as if everything stilled at the command of one word. You were scared shitless of all the possibilities it could be, not knowing whether you were willing to look or not, but your anxiety was killing you. Feeling it increase at every breath, taunting you like marionettes on a string, dearing you to look, only to scream no just afterwards. With an in take of air, you pushed back those thoughts and slowly, you turned to view what all the fuss was about. Gasping in shock and horror at the sight infront of you.

He was insane.

There stood the Stark tower tall and proud, being lit up like a firecracker with multiple yellow streaks of light ejecting from the building. It looked as though hundreds of missiles were being fired into the air, contrasting the twilight sky. Even with the skyscrapers that surrounded the tower, the sight demanded all the attention. No, those weren't missiles...

They behaved too smart to be simply just that. And you knew better than to dismiss them so easily. Multiple flew in every direction, some swirling around the tower, and others going straight up. There was at least two or four going north and south, while a dozen takes off headed east and west. It looked as though someone was celebrating New Years early, and doing so extravagantly, except it was the middle of fall...

The sight was beautiful you couldn't deny that, but you were confused as to what exactly that could mean. Was it meant for you? Was he calling you back? Was that his version of an Amber alert? Or maybe they celebrating that you were finally gone... Images of Pepper, Tony, and Peter celebrating your leave quickly flash through your mind, stabbing you in the back ones more. Quickly, you shake them out of your head, returning your attention once again to the event in front of you. Your brows pulled together in question before it officially clicked. Hitting you hard like a brick, demolishing the wall of protection you built around yourself to stop the flood of overwhelming emotions. Feeling a small tug in your chest, the numbness that guarded your heart slowly dispersed as anxiety crept up your spine.

He had unleashed the entirety of his Iron Legion's to search for you.

All 108 suits....

Without thinking, you quickly crouched down, seeing one flying low into the street, right towards you. Your hood fell from a gust of wind as your hair blew all around. You screw your eyes tightly, covering your ears at a loud swooshing sound invading your eardrums. Thankfully, it flew pass you. You ignored the cheering of the crowd, quickly trying to run and sprint into an underground sub station. Turning back one last time, only to be greeted by more iron suits taking off from the tower. You frantically focusing your eyes, seeing a blue and red figure swinging from a far.

Peter....

As luck may have it, he swung left, following a completely different road.

And with that, you ran. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, frantically looking for the 99th street substation opening so that you could hide underground.

Cut short gasps of panic erupt from your mouth as you hurriedly ran across the street. You closed your eyes tight, feeling tears forming and falling down your face. Oh no, not now... Cold frost bitten air hits your skin as you maneuver yourself around bystanders. Not now, not now, not now. The tears fell more frequently as you squeezed your eyes shut once more.

You were not going to send yourself into and anxiety attack, not now, and not because of this.

Your running comes to a halt as you stand exactly where you're supposed to be, eyes quickly looking around in search for the station opening.

There!

In a fright, damp cold sweats engulfs your body as you enter and ran down the steps, out from above ground sight. You jump over the turnstile, panting from the tiredness as you took note of how soar your legs were becoming. You gulp, chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked around to see if anyone saw your odd behavior. And to your surprise the station was completely empty, odd... Though that could very well be because the scheduled 1:40 train had just took off fifteen minutes ago. You moved with hesitation and weariness as you looked around for any person in sight. Silently, you plopped yourself down onto a steel bench, trying desperately for your breathing to calm down.

You didn't know how long it had been or how much time passed since you've sat down, but you stayed put fidgeting for what seemed like hours. Your thighs bounced anxiously as you kept an eye out for any short of movement, the dimly lit grimy station gave you an on edge feeling and it didn't sit right in your stomach. You felt like you were being watched from all sorts of corners and you shook it off as anxiety but something told you to stay guarded.

Your ears would perk from time to time, hearing loud gusts of winds and cheering from above ground, ensuring the fact that your father's search party wasn't going away anytime soon.

You hear movement coming in, snapping out of your haze as you felt a presence sit beside you. You peer up meekly in curiosity before gasping in shock and horror at who the person was.

Brock Rumlow....

"Long time no see little Stark." He spoke voice raspy and sinister as you cringe at the sight of his face. There, half of his profile was burnt and agitated red as one of his eyes was completely titanium white, you figured he was blind there. Wanda really did a number on him as you all suspected that she had killed him....

Little Stark.... That was something only Fury called you...

You swallow in fear as you notice five more men appearing suddenly. You suddenly felt incredibly hyper aware of the situation, your vision tunneling as your heart rate increases. This was really happening...

"I've waited a long time for this kid... knock her out!"

Before you could scream in distress a throbbing pain consumes the back of your skull, and then everything turned black...

_____________

I owe you guys an explanation, and to put it simply, I was depressed and felt unmotivated so I took a lot of time to myself... I wasn't aware that so many people were expecting a follow up to a stupid little story I had written in April... I am without of words and am absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of support and love you all have given me. Yet the feeling of being pressured to write came with the notion of so much positivity, thus tainting it. I can't promise when the second half of part two will come out, but know that it is coming......

Tag List:

@spacebitch2 @babebenhardy @notasofti @blowing-mikey @juliae03 @starlight-starks @fivesecondsofsarang @ssebstann @lunaticbarnes @kye06 @jbtomlinson-blog @spideylovin @juliet-winterson @emilymarie0422 @emborrachada @marvel-is-a-mood @used-avocado @cherrysruin @watson-emma @songofcosplay @spideypooler03 @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @honeymarvel @ariethlyn9 @unbelievableholland @ilovepeterparker13 @usedtobepettyonly @zalladane @freelynerdlygirly @hotpocket01 @hothw22 @itsteph13 @lostredrobin @mydoctorwho13 @littleninjablake @it-sel @holywater-burns @charismas-world @tylers-ankles-beebos-forehead @flowerchild1216 @spideynugget @the-frnkiero @misshale21 @galaxystern08 @alyssam71 @ghostmaster83 @its-shaula-wii @crying-perfectstorm @bubblegumbarnes @well-this-is-just-awkward

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keijislove · 3 years

Text

I’ll be there: Bucky Barnes X Reader

A/N: WARNING: Slight mention of PTSD, insecurity, basically Bucky not realising what a blessing to humanity he is.

Screams.

They erupted in an instant as the sound of glass shattering pierced the otherwise peaceful night. Screams were all he’d ever known. Screams sounded like music to his ears. It was just a small snippet of what people really deserved after they dared to show their faces in public, knowing the pain they had caused to this world.

Amidst the endless assassins, stood a certain soldier with eyes as dark as his name, hair long and unkempt about his face, and two arms – one regular, which clutched a gun that seemed to fire itself – and the other, made of vibranium, which was busy throttling a man.

The winter soldier.

That name commanded fear. Fear of being killed, knowing that the monster HYDRA had created didn’t have enough human in him to feel emotions like pity or regret.

Bloodlust.

That was all that James Buchanan Barnes had ever known.

“Please, please not my son!” a woman cried, watching tearfully as the winter soldier fought an urge to scoff.

Not caring in the least, he pointed the gun at a little boy of nearly seven years of age and smirked beneath his mask.

The trigger was pulled, deaf to the cries and bloodcurdling screams of the boy’s mother. A gunshot pierced through the hall filled with screams. A bullet shot towards the tiny, unsuspecting boy, reaching to hit him squarely in the head –

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Bucky screamed, sitting up straight.

He looked around. Nobody was there, he was alone. Like he’d always been.

Panting slightly, he looked around, fumbling for the water jug and he poured himself a glass before taking a sip – his hands shaking so badly that the quantity of spilt water was greater than that he drank.

“Just a nightmare,” he feverishly muttered to himself, “No – no big deal, nightmare.”

His lies sounded so untruthful, even Bucky had to scoff at himself.

Just a nightmare.

If he didn’t understand himself at times, who could?

It was almost foolish to admit it, but Bucky felt something he had no way to overcome. Lonely.

His ‘friends’ were leading important lives, either with family or training at the Avengers compound, wanting to make a difference. Yet, here he sat, feeling useless.

He wanted a purpose in life – a gaping hole in his chest nothing seemed to be able to fill. Apparently, the gods had heard his prayer, for that day was one he treasured most in all of his memories.

-----

“This is the last time I’m working the night shift!” you furiously exclaimed to Leah who just shrugged, saying, “It’s not me who decides the shifts.”

“Meh, well,” you admitted guiltily, “You have a point. But you’re the only I can rant to about this prison.”

“Well, job’s a job, isn’t it?” Leah murmured.

“I guess so.”

The door of the restaurant flew open as somebody walked inside. You didn’t bother to look up, you had way to much experience and hate for this job to care who wanted to eat what.

“Welcome, I am Y/N L/N, just name whatever you want, I’m sure we have it in here and if we don’t, I’m sorry but that’s not my fault and I have been working long hours since weeks and would appreciate a little customer cooperation to ensure the safety of my mental health, okay? What do you want?” you had never talked this way to a customer before – you were known to be a polite employee, but today, you just lost your temper with life.

Receiving silence from the figure that had stopped in front of you, you looked up questioningly and your mind went blank for a second. Standing there was literal eye candy material who looked confused and slightly alarmed. You flushed – great job scaring away a finally nice guy, Y/N.

“Sorry,” you sighed after a while of staring, “Not in the greatest mood these days.”

“I can see that,” the stranger chuckled despite himself, “Rough day?”

“Month,” you corrected moodily, “What can I get you?”

“Meh, the usual, some beer please,” he said.

“Right,” you nodded, turning around, pulling faces at yourself for being so embarrassing. You blindly groped for a bottle and thrust it his way, saying, “Glass?”

“No thanks,” he waved off, uncorking the bottle and downing it, “I’m Bucky, by the way. Bucky Barnes.”

“Hey, I’ve heard of you,” you frowned.

Bucky’s heart dropped into the floors below. Of course you had heard of him. Of the countless, ruthless murders he had performed.

“You’re – that guy, right? Steve Rogers’ best friend?” you asked, “My condolences,” you added quickly.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, “That’s me.”

“I can see you’ve been through a rough life,” you remarked causally.

“You have no idea.”

And so, Bucky began visiting your bar regularly – a feat that made your shifts more enjoyable and something to look forward to in your mundane life. Bucky understood what a stressful job could be – he felt that if he couldn’t help himself, he’d at least try to help you.

After around a month of knowing him, you decided to do something you had been gathering the balls for for weeks

As soon as you finished your night shift, you spoke, “Can I walk home with you? It’s late – and the night sort of scares me. My house a few blocks away from yours.”

You crossed your fingers and toes behind your back.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Bucky said, “I wouldn’t want you to walk alone anyway.”

Your heart rose – this was a good sign.

You grabbed your coat and threw it on, shivering slightly as both of you made your way out. You locked the door behind you and placed the keys in your pocket as you resumed walking.

“So,” you began, “How’s life going on for you?”

“Crappy, mostly,” Bucky shrugged, “I mean – there’s nothing to do. I just sit around all day, come to your bar, go home, and sit around again.”

“Sounds like a nice life,” you sighed, “I wish I had some peace. I’d trade with you any day.”

This declaration made him laugh.

Now or never, Y/N, you wimp! Do it! Ask him out!

“Hey, listen, Bucky, I was wondering,” you began as he hummed in response, “Uh... we’ve known each other for some time now... don’t take this the wrong way, but I... really, really like you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop again – this was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

“Y/N...” he began.

“It’s okay, you might not feel the same,” you hurriedly said, swallowing back a few overcoming tears.

“No, Y/N, it’s nothing like that,” Bucky assured you, “I really like you too – but are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Thought what – what are you talking about?” you asked, nonplussed.

“I’m just saying – think about it,” Bucky began, “You – you’d be throwing away your future – I don’t want to do that to you. You’re a smart, beautiful woman, and you honestly deserve so much better! I can’t make you happy – I can’t make myself happy, I don’t know anything about commitment. I can’t give you children or a family – and the people who know of my past – almost everyone – will look down on you, I don’t want you to have that burden. I’m – a monster, Y/N, you can’t –”

“Stop,” you whispered, shaking your head, “Stop doing this to yourself. Who on Earth – Bucky, you are not a monster. I would never think like that – and it’s okay if you can’t give me a family – all I want is you. Just you.”

“Yeah, but you’re forgetting the most important part,” Bucky whispered, “I’m dangerous. I can’t trust my own mind. Trigger words, remember? Even if I’m not a killer anymore, I’ve made a lot of enemies – I don’t want anyone to use you to get to me.”

“What if I don’t care?” you asked angrily, “Let them try. And your trigger words – nice try, Bucky, you wanna be more careful what you tell others about your past. I know that that problem was taken care of years ago. You’re jut scared to open up.”

“I get nightmares....” Bucky’s voice trailed off in a feeble attempt to coax you to change your mind.

“And now you’ll have someone to calm you down next to you,” you firmly stated.

Bucky sighed, “Coffee shop down the street, tomorrow, noon.”

“Don’t you dare be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 3 - F#$k the Police

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: What’s happening in Romania? For awhile you’ve had the best time with Bucky all to yourself, but now, it appears the world is not done with you two just yet.

Warning: tinge of fluff, violence, fighting, reader being a bad bitch, Bucky going through it, Steve metaphorically herding cats (Bucky, reader, T’Challa), some google translate (I hope its right)

Masterlist

Leaning against a telephone poll, you adjust your darkly tinted sunglasses before stuffing your hands back into your jacket pockets. Hood up and stance as casual as ever while you patiently await your dark haired lover, who at this moment happens to be purchasing some plump and juicy looking plums.

Doing his best to appear relatively unrecognizable, Bucky walks over to you in his usual faded ball-cap, layered jacket, and black gloves while you give him a nod of acknowledgment as he quickly approaches. Soon he’s by your side and the two you begin walking towards the street where you’ll be crossing.

“Y/N, you think these ones will taste good?” Wonders Bucky as he shifts his gaze to you for a wise answer, like you magically are able to tell if these random plums are sour or not.

You shrug, “Probably.”

He stares uncertainly down at the plums, “They were kind of sour last time.”

Throwing him a humored glance, you keep walking, “Did you tell her that? Maybe she would have given these ones to you for free.”

“Well.....no.”

Retrieving your dark tinted sunglasses from the bridge of your nose before shoving them in a pocket, you throw a glance back over at the plum cart, nudging Bucky, “I’ll steal some again and then we’ll compare what days they taste good and what days they taste bad. Maybe that will help out your plum dilemma.”

“You’ve stolen plums before?” Whispers Bucky in bewilderment like you just stabbed a guy in broad daylight, “Y/N.” He whines, “We can’t be stealing things! We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Rolling your amused eyes at his fearful concern over something so tiny, you playfully tug against his grey jacket, “Stealing some plums is the least unlawful thing I have ever done moya lyubov' now come on.” You muse with a reassuring grin.

Wanting to protest, he chooses against it when he hears you call him my love in Russian; that’s new, he think warmly, you’ve never said anything that deeply intimate before. He could certainly get used to it.

Coming to a halt, the two of you patiently wait for the roadway to clear up, but while you’re standing there in the open, you skillfully take notice of some man in his mid thirties with a half eaten lollipop positioned in his right hand. He leans against the counter from behind a newspaper stand, where two curious greyish blue eyes give yourself and then Bucky a wary look as he begins to squint suspiciously. Soon his gaze trails over you both again like he’s trying to solve a 1000 piece puzzle, but can’t quite tell just yet which piece goes next. How odd, you think.

“Nothing is ever odd, there is reason for everyone’s intricate behavior, always be on guard.” Speaks a whisper from your past days training with Hydra.

Glancing over to Bucky, you notice as he starts to appear rather uncomfortable since he’s realized the stranger is staring. What a nosy little weasel, why would he give a shit about us? Tugging on his sleeve, you begin taking the lead across the four-way, the weaselly looking mans eyes go wide in genuine fear as he turns and books it out of the booth like a bat out of hell. Racing past annoyed civilians as they go about their normal business.

Brows furrowed in confusion you hastily reach the newspaper stand and flip a paper around only to be greeted with greatly troubling words printed aggressively in big black letters reading...

-WINTER SOLDIER CÂUTAT PENTRU BOMBARDMENTUL DIN VIENNA-

...with a blurred security footage picture of Bucky’s shadowed face walking suspiciously by a white van in presumably a parking garage.

On further inspection lower down the page, you take notice of the alarming words below, translating to...

-On international watchlist; Possible accomplice suggested at place of crime, Y/N Valerious is being investigated into for feasible involvement with one credited for bombing. Investigators advise great caution if seen and require a report immediately upon recognition.-

Paired with a blurred fuzzy head shot taken from CCT footage in 1997 after you sliced your way through a notorious drug cartel in Colombia.

Shit. And how the fuck did they find that picture?

Bucky quickly rips it out of your hands and stares frustratingly at the parchment, eyes focused on the concerning news as he flickers his attention back down at you, “Y/N?” He mutters uncertainly, face appearing increasingly distraught as he looks to you for an answer.

Glancing warily around the crowded area, you swallow nervously before finding his uneasy gaze once again, “I really need to stop speaking ahead of myself....fuck.....we need to leave.” You urge, tugging on his arm to move, you let go as the two of you head back to your shared apartment.

Eyes glancing warily around you the whole way there.

——

Walking quickly up the steps, you suddenly catch the scent of an unknown man leading right into the cracked door of your apartment, Bucky halts as you remain still as stone, nose crinkling as you test the air.

“Y/N?” He whispers unsurely as you shush him.

Sensing this stranger isn’t here to fight due to the lack of aggressor pheromones extruding from out of his system, you both cautiously walk into the room, on guard as you move more silently then an owl in flight, he doesn’t hear a thing. Quickly you visually analyze a tall man in dark blue with a helmet tightly fitted against his head, standing relatively still with his back turned to you two. A familiar shield held strongly from his left forearm as his head looks down at the journal positioned in his right hand.

Bucky’s journal.

Standing defensively side by side with Bucky, the uniformed man suddenly turns around; his eyes are a dark ocean, yet soft and set; a faded white A sits just above his eyes and a dull white star appears in the center chest area of his stealth suit. This is without a failing doubt Captain America, but what does he want with you two?

Breathing steadily he gives the two of you a once over before focusing on Bucky, “Do you know me?” He asks, voice calm and collected. Not an ounce of aggression.

Your eyes flicker cautiously from Bucky then back to the stranger as he takes a slow breath, “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

[They’ve set the perimeter] -speaks a disembodied voice from Steve’s earpiece, only yourself and Steve are able to pick it up.

What the fuck does that mean?

The American sets Bucky’s journal onto the kitchen table as he shifts in place, your fists instinctively clench in preparation for a possible clash as Steve’s perceptive gaze shifts warily from your hands up to your watchful glare; he must know about you, “I’m not here to fight.” Confirms Steve with a small nod before turning to Bucky, “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna, we both weren’t. I don’t do that anymore.” Mumbles Bucky truthfully, you’ve been with him for months now and neither of you have even left the city so how the hell did his blurry photo get printed onto the daily newspaper?

[They’re entering the building.] -speaks the voice.

Steve takes an urgent yet cautious step forward, clearly something terrible is about to go down for the three of you, if the guy on the ear piece wasn’t telling enough, “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. For both of you. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.” Warns Steve sincerely, voice steady and true.

Bucky’s lips nervously purse together as he mutters unenthusiastically, “That’s smart. Good strategy.”

[They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.]- says the voice, more urgently this time.

Suddenly your ears pick up the sounds of heavy boots as they pound against the large spiraled staircase, squeezing your eyes shut in irritated anticipation, you open them to face the soldier, “Well this is fucking fantastic.” You seethe through clenched teeth, accent dripping strong as you shake your head in frustration.

Steve gives the two of you a pleading look, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” He urges as you both stand like a nervous predator, unsure if their prey is going to put up a deadly brawl to the death or not.

Giving him a hooded grimace, your eyes shift from the front door then back to him as you begrudgingly mutter, “It always ends in a fight.”

Looking away, he nods towards Bucky, “You pulled me from the river.” Starts Steve as Bucky hastily removes the black glove covering his metal arm, “Why?”

Bucky huffs, reluctant eyes dancing over to Steve’s, “I don’t know.”

[Three seconds!]- says the voice.

“Yes, you do.”

[Breach! Breach! Breach!]

Yells the voice frantically just as the left window shatters as some can sized metal bomb crashes onto the floor, the three of you immediately turn towards the harmful object right as Bucky kicks it, Steve coming to the rescue as he covers the bomb with his shield. Boom! It goes off, leaving everyone to live another day, or at least for the next minute.

A second later you hear insistent shouting in German just as Bucky grabs the mattress, he shields himself with it as his other hand pulls you to his chest protectively just as a destructively lesser bomb ignites against it from the now broken window.

Pulling out of his grasp, Bucky tosses it aside before kicking the small kitchen table where it lodges itself tightly against the front door. Turning towards the two windows positioned on your right, you’re immediately greeted with the breaking of glass as two heavily equipped combat police burst rudely into the room, heavily armored in tactical gear and ready to kill.

Well, shit.

At an inhuman speed you swiftly grab the first mans gun and point the steel barrel upwards just as he shoots, avoiding killing Bucky if you were a second late; your eyes turn angry as you swing your fist, knocking him unconscious from your blow to his helmet.

The second man shoots a line of bullets that scream angrily into the ceiling when Steve thrusts his gun away from you two, knocking him out in the process. Immediately another soldier breaks into the room from the bathroom door by Steve, gun at the ready as Steve shoves his weapon to the side where Bucky then harshly kicks him in the chest. Sending the intruding soldier into the bathroom, presumably with a hefty concussion.

But before Bucky is able to continue onward, Steve quickly grabs his arm, “Buck, stop!” Instantly he twists out of Steve’s grasp, giving his old friend a deadly glare, “You’re gonna kill someone. Both of you!” He snaps, stormy eyes shifting from you to Bucky just as your Winter Soldier shoves him to the ground by his collar before lunching his metal arm violently into the floorboards right next to his head.

Glaring at Steve, he growls, “I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Before pulling his arm out of the broken wood, travel backpack in hand; he stands and immediately throws it out the broken window about ten stories onto another rooftop below.

Standing in the middle of the ruined apartment as you face them, another soldier crashes through the broken window to your left, Bucky and Steve brace for the worst as the man pauses for a moment, gun facing the floor. Moving swiftly, you quickly unsheathe your razor sharp Adamantium claws out of your right fist before cleanly slicing his weapon into three consecutive pieces.

Shouldn’t have hesitated fucker.

The broken gun clashes to the floor as the soldiers eyes flash with fear before you roughly push him against the wall, grimacing in anger, right hook cocked back as you suddenly thrust a clawed fist directly into his shoulder. He lets out a pained gravelly scream as you pull away to face Bucky and a wide eyed Steve, the injured soldier sliding down the wall to the floor as he applies pressure on his newly bleeding wound.

A second later two more men come racing into the room as your victim slumps to the side once you kick him in the head, unconscious but still breathing as small drops of blood seep out of his affected shoulder. He’s someone else’s problem now.

Steve raises his shield as bullets deflect off the metal, soon Bucky throws his metal arm up; deflecting multiple bullets as Steve takes out a guy on the balcony. Bucky in the meantime has managed to knock the gunman out with a cement brick as you retract your claws back into your fist.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Pounds loudly against the locked front door as bullets crash into the hinges, soon Bucky races for the thin wood and thrusts his metal fist into the door without a second thought. Seconds later he breaks down the door, knocking out two guys in the process as you slip past him and into the long staircase hallway that only goes in two consecutive directions, up or down.

Shit, more are coming up the stairs!

A soldier promptly breaks through the overhead glass window from the roof and ascends on a thick black rope, shooting at Bucky who easily deflects his bullets before you kick the man into the wall, knocking him out instantly. Body limp and peaceful as he hangs suspended mid-air in the center of the rounded stairwell, you quickly look down to witness the tiny army of combat police hellbent on ruining your perfectly fine day.

Well, not much of a fine day anymore.

Without time to process much, you watch as more soldiers charge up the stairs, guns ready to fire; suddenly Bucky jumps on the knocked out man hanging from the ceiling and falls to the next landing below as he uses the unconscious soldier for a sort of pully system, knocking out more police as they try and fight him off once he lands.

Blinking, you jump down without assistance but your own fearsome willpower before shoving a guy down the stairs, who conveniently trips up others in the process. But at least eight more are racing to finish their job, right on cue another soldier meets on your landing as Bucky fights off one from behind you.

Before he’s even able to pull the trigger, you’ve sliced his weapon in half, kicking him harshly into the wall, doing the same to his friend as you fight your way along the staircase, skillfully avoiding bullets and fists alike.

Turning around to the sounds of Bucky grunting, your eyes trail up and watch as he throws a man over the edge of the railing. But before anything bloody happens, Steve swiftly catches his dark collar much to your disappointment. He then heroically throws the man elsewhere as the fighting starts up again.

Soon Bucky nearly gets his lights knocked out as an armored gloved mitt comes flying for the back of his head; your fist however, breaks the guys jaw with a loud crack as you save your lover from an unfortunate injury. Bucky then gives you a quick nod of silent appreciation before you look up the staircase to see a disappointed Steve. oh, fuck off.

Huffing in irritation, you nudge Bucky to make a swift exit out of here; heeding to your urgent request he knocks another guy out before jumping down a multitude flight of stairs, grabbing onto the closest railing and tearing it back with a pained cry as he uses it to maneuver himself onto the landing.

Alright, time to go.

Breaking a soldiers arm, you proceed to do the same; arriving roughly on the cement landing as you skillfully tuck and roll before jumping up into a standing position and taking a moment to watch as Bucky races down the hallway before jumping off the corridor balcony.

Taking a deep breath in preparation for the jump to come, you book it down the same hallway and soon are free falling while quickly headed for the rooftop below. The damn roof ledge comes faster then you’d anticipated; landing hard against the protruding edge, you grunt in pain before rolling across the roof a couple feet while Bucky picks up his backpack mid run.

With no time to dwell on the burning ache in your shoulder, you push yourself from the ground as you race to catch up with Bucky who’s a good ten feet from you by now. He listens as you grumble a string of incomprehensible swears in displeasured Russian, but keeps running forward as he knows you’ll be right behind him in an instant.

Boots smacking hard against the rooftop cement, you’re almost caught up with Bucky when without so much as a warning does a dark silent shadow appear in your line of sight from directly above you, a second later you’re forcibly thrown into one of the metal conditioning system units, eyes wide and head in a daze. Only to be greeted with a man dressed in a black catlike stealth suit of some strange armor, where he soon begins hand to hand combat with Bucky.

Fuck that hurt. Asshole, you growl miserably.

Bucky dodges and throws skilled yet desperate punches at the mystery individual, although neither of them appear to take any real damage, fortunately for Bucky’s dwindling safety, but not for this other guy. Shaking the fuzziness out of your head, and ignoring the small trickle of blood leaving a red stain from the side of your temple, you hastily jump to your feet and charge the armored bastard as he throws Bucky into another conditioner unit.

Making a clean dent in the thin metal, Bucky’s eyes widen in genuine fear as the angry panther brings his shimmering silver clawed hand into the air, ready to strike. Cornered, Bucky braces for the worst with his metal arm blocking his face just as you seize the panthers forearm.

He abruptly turns his armored head towards you, and is thus kindly greeted with a swift punch to the face that sends him rolling across the rooftop a couple feet away from you and Bucky. Tumbling for a moment, he instantly regains his footing while silver colored claws slash thin sparking lines of gold across the cement as he stops dead in a predatory crouched position.

Well, now he really looks unhappy.

Bucky watches as the panther slowly rises to his feet, looking rather angered by your violent intrusion; breathing heavily, you stare down the fucker before a slow ‘shling’ sounds from out of your clenched fists. The panthers head tilts curiously, closely resembling that of an actual feline as he witnesses a total of six razor sharp claws protruding dangerously in the sunlight.

“Alright. Now we’re even.” You growl darkly as the panther charges for an attack, within seconds yours claws clash violently against his armor as he swipes for an opening to cause some real damage.

Bucky rises to his feet as he watches you and the panther fight like old enemies, sparks fly like confetti as your claws slash against his strange suit while the two of you dance in a rhythmic warriors tango, strangely on the rooftop of some Romanian hotel while Steve remains elsewhere for the time being.

Anticipating another blow from you, the panther blocks it and finally gets a clean shot of your face, soon you’re on the ground in a blurry daze before shaking your head while you rise to your hands and knees. Okay fuck this guy.

Drops of ruby red blood patter onto the cement as your face turns into a pissed off scowl, both the panther and Bucky watch in anticipation as you dramatically turn around to face them. Three clean slashes mark deep from your right hairline, across your cheek, where finally it relents at the base of your jaw.

You sneer in vexation as your skin fuses ripped muscle and blood vessels back together in a matter of seconds, then without warning does a helicopter appear from above where it rudely begins raining bullets onto the three of you.

Fuck this.

Luckily the artillery is deflected away from Bucky as it hits the panther first, unluckily for you, a couple strays vigorously drag themselves in and out of your shoulder and torso. A sharp white hot paint rips through your vessel causing your legs to buckle, falling to the ground, you instantly scream out in agony when the unpleasant sensation fully registers in your brain, as Bucky’s face turns to worry then anger.

Soon the bullets stop as the helicopter gets pushed off course by some man in a bird suit. Well today really couldn’t be any weirder, what’s next Ironman? You sarcastically think before reluctantly forcing yourself onto your feet only to be welcomed by the worried face of Bucky as he grabs your bleary attention, “Let’s go, we could make it to the underpass.” Affirms Bucky as your strength comes to you once again, muscles fusing back together, the pain fading swiftly.

“Yeah, fuck this.” You retort as he turns and swiftly jumps off the roof and onto another ledge below a you do the same, claws slashing down the buildings side as you do so. But all too soon are you greeted by the metal on metal screeching of the panthers claws as he slides down the side of the same apartment building, closer then you’d like. “Fuck.” You mutter, deeply irritated by this dickhead who won’t give either of you a break.

Not wanting to face the wrath of his shiny sharp claws, you quickly retract yours before you and Bucky instantly turn and jump the rest of the way down, landing skillfully onto the grey sidewalk below before booking it out of there as the panther aggressively chases onward. Steve not far behind, though you don’t care nor have the time to look.

Racing across the city road, bullets fly by the two of you as the opening to the cities subterranean underpass greets you with open arms. Shuffling past some small bushes, Bucky jumps down first, you right behind him as your world turns into a hasty blur. Soon everything comes to an abrupt halt once your boots smack hard against the surface of the roads blacktop.

The sounds of angry car horns blare loudly in your ears as a couple vehicles swerve to the side, just narrowly missing yourself and Bucky, “Come on!” You shout urgently before twisting around and booking it down the underpass with Bucky close behind.

Running at an inhuman speed, you pass cars and trucks alike as they swerve to avoid the two of you, about fifteen seconds later you’re greeted to the all to familiar whirring sounds noisily emitting from the local police cruisers as they hastily follow yourself, Bucky, Steve, and the panther across the highway tunnel.

“Ugh, move!” You snap in irritation before deciding to jump up and run across a green convertible, Bucky almost smiling as he races on the blacktop next to you, continuing onward as you land and race for safety or cover or anywhere away from this mess.

“Left!” Shouts Bucky as you both reach the area where the two huge lanes split from right to left, noticing the sirens coming down from the right lane, you don’t think twice as he practically pulls you in the opposite direction. Left lane it is.

This time traffic races towards you which makes maneuvering in this fucking tunnel even that much more difficult. Your boots clash against the hard ground as Bucky suddenly eyes up an approaching motorcycle, he is not.

As the motorbike comes into about five feet of him, Bucky grabs onto the handles, pushing the guy off while he does an impressive one-eighty before throwing a leg over to straddle the bike as he now points it in the direction of the traffic flow. Not wasting a precious second longer, do you swiftly jump on, throwing your arms around his strong waist for some bit of safety.

The bike instantly growls and groans in protest as Bucky focuses on getting the two of you the fuck out of there; cars fly by in a blur as the wind aggressively whips back your hair, only causing you to hold on tighter as Bucky races down the underpass’s road. Sirens and police speeding not far behind. The constant sound of their sirens just about driving you insane.

Without so much as a warning, your peaceful ride is rudely interrupted when the panther jumps off a car and makes a beeline for your body. Bucky’s flesh hand is around the panthers throat in a second as you lower yourself out of the way. In reply, the panther suddenly twists his body and runs a couple feet on the side of the tunnels wall and low cut ceiling before Bucky tries to throw him down by his throat.

Unfortunately this causes the motorcycle to shift left; dangerously close to the racing ground, he lets go of the panther and switches hands on the handles so he can avoid losing control completely. Metal fingers scrape across the cement creating glowing sparks of angry fiery flickers as the panther holds onto your jacket and the back of the motorcycle for dear life.

Not appreciating this in the slightest, you instinctively begin unsheathing your right claws that are positioned across your lap; you bend low, face pressed against Bucky before twisting the best you can and swiping the panther off of you and onto the harsh ground below. You don’t care to look back as Bucky pushes his metal hand off the ground, finally at last stabilizing the motorbike. Hitting the gas harder, it flies down the road as you swiftly retract your claws back into your knuckles.

“Y/N are you okay!” Shouts Bucky as you tighten your hold from behind, face pressed against his back as you listen to the sirens hastily approaching in the distance.

Gifting him a squeeze of reassurance, you give him a light kiss though he doesn’t feel it, “I could honestly be better!”

Bucky shows the ghost of a smile as he whirs the bike into submission, soon more wind swirls past your face as he pulls something out of his pocket and throw it against the roof of the tunnel where it sticks, blinking red.

Boom! Crash! Down goes a multitude of cement ceiling and destructively onto the freeway, effectively creating a blocker against the panther, Steve, and the Romanian police.

Smiling into his back, you mentally praise him for keeping some of the Hydra weaponry at hand. Until you’re roughly pulled from the bike by the fucking panther himself. Who even is this guy?

And how did he....

Yelping in surprise, you grasp onto Bucky’s backpack for all it’s worth, successfully managing to drag him down with you. The grey tiled street of the tunnel hits against your body harder then you’d like, but nonetheless you take the beating like a champ as you tumble harshly against the ground.

You and the ground are really getting to know each other today.

The panther doing the same from behind you while Bucky rolls awkwardly across the floor like an angry stiff log of dark flowing hair and concealed muscle. While trying to stop yourself from clashing around any further, you quickly regain your bearings in time to block Bucky from getting his throat cut out by the panther who’s on him in an instant.

With your claws bared and shimmering in the light of the protruding sun from the tunnels giant observatory opening, you’re quickly stopped by Steve as he races past you and tackles the panther to the ground by his waist.

Your little violet adventure coming to a messy end, when the panther stands defiantly a couple feet away from the three of you who by now have risen to your feet. Police lights flash from behind him as more surround the four of you instantaneously from on all sides, well shit, this doesn’t look good.

Your frantic eyes shift all around you as your world comes to a crashing halt, a helicopter flies over head, and in this moment you want nothing more then to slash your way out of this one. But you’re trapped.

You stand to Bucky’s immediate right as Steve stands to his left, hands out protectively as you glare at the officers in front of you, neither you nor Bucky speaking a word as you take in heavy breaths from your hefty sprinting session. Suddenly the notorious War Machine lands with a dramatically heavy thud onto the road in front of you, shoulder gun and hand blasters raised as he looks between the three of you.

Well at least it’s not actually Ironman. Right?

“Stand down, now.” Commands War Machine as you throw him a resistant look of pure daggers, hatred and fury flashing across your face as you clench your fists.

Obeying the authoritative command, Steve puts his shield away, latching it to his back as you begrudgingly retract your silver tinted claws back into your forearms with the usual shling sounding as you do so.

“Congratulations, Cap.” Verbally applauds War Machine, voice clearly sarcastic, “You’re a criminal.”

Moments later the Romanian police fully surround you all, guns at the ready; you’re harshly pushed to the ground by angry gloved hands that take captive of your arms and wrists as they pin your stomach to the earth.

“ot"yebis', tupyye pizdy!” You mumble angrily in Russian as the Romanian special task officers hold you like a wounded beast, your actual words translating to “fuck off, you stupid cunts” though they’re none the wiser to your heated threats.

Your chin scrapes against the cement tiles as your hands are pressed against your back, tied instantly as you strain your head to look up. The panther retracts his catlike claws before unclasping his helmet to reveal the troubled face of a dark skinned man; brows furrowing in confusion you suddenly realize who he is when War Machine says, “Your Highness.”

Grimacing in agitation, you can’t help but let out a string of curses aimed crudely at the Wakandian prince and many of the officers in question, half of your verbal abuse a mix of both English and your mother tongue. Soon an officer lightly kicks your side as you send him a deadly glare that causes him to take a cautious step back.

Though to relieve himself of his high authority once more, he gathers some of his men's attention by pointing down at you, “Muzzle this one.” He commands diligently as you squirm in protest, your face a mask of pure rage while Bucky keeps a steady frustrated gaze with the ground. His heart breaking for how they’re treating the two of you, but most importantly how they’re dealing with you.

If not for the current situation, you could have actually laughed; well now, aren’t you quite royally fucked.

Tagged: @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @diegos-butt

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #tfatws x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite

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marvelhero-fics · 3 years

Text

Snowman

Series - Chapter Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip.

A/N: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist, no spoilers in this chapter!

Word Count: 1,750

Snowman Masterlist || Full Masterlist

New York

2023

“Did you see her much after that mission?” Dr Raynor asked Bucky. She seemed interested in (Y/N).

“Yea. I saw her in passing a few times. She spent a lot of time at the base I was at. Sometimes I’d be out of cryo for weeks on a mission. That’s when I saw her the most.”

“What did you do together?”

“Played card games, trained together, built weapons, I taught her how to snipe. Normal shit, I guess.” It felt strange thinking about it all. It felt like a different lifetime to him.

“I guess that is somewhat normal for trained assassins. Did you tell her anything about yourself? After she explained her story, did you reciprocate that?” His therapist questioned.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t really remember that much about myself. Everything I knew was wiped, I was pretty much a blank slate. I couldn’t even tell her my name because I didn’t know it.” Bucky shrugged.

“What did she call you then?”

“She gave me a nickname. Snegovik. It means snowman in Russian. She thought it was hilarious, because I was the Winter Soldier. If anyone else called me snowman I would’ve snapped their necks, but when she did it-'' Bucky paused to think, “It felt nice.”

Moscow

2012

“What’re you doing, snegovik? (snowman)” You placed yourself down at the table opposite Bucky. He looked up at you, his pale blue eyes gazing into yours. You noticed Bucky started looking differently at you as you spent more time together. Instead of a look of hostility or annoyance as he gave to everyone else, it was a gentle look. A look you would give birds dancing in a fountain on a warm day, or a look you would give the sun as it rose so smoothly over the snowy mountains.

“Reading.” He shut the file laid out in front of him. The maroon file had a black HYDRA symbol resting in the middle. It was his next target.

“I haven’t had a case in weeks. I’m bored out of my mind. Do you wanna go to the firing range with me?” You queried. The HYDRA base you were currently stuck at had one of the largest firing ranges down in the basement, with a very fun collection of weaponry.

“I know what we can do. Let’s go snezhinka. (snowflake)” Bucky pushed up against the table to stand, he grabbed his file and walked off. You quickly followed behind.

The two of you ended up in a large room full of dark grey lockers. It was an empty, dusty smelling room. Not many agents or assassins resided at this base so it was mostly desolate.

Bucky pulled a few lockers open, his metal fingers clanking against the steel lockers. He tossed a large coat towards you. It was black with a soft fur lining the hood.

“Put that on.” He demanded.

“Are we going outside?” You asked, tossing the coat over your shoulders and zipping up the front.

“Mhm.” Bucky pulled his sniper rifle out of a locker. It was already put together. He grabbed a small, red box of ammunition and an extra scope. He walked off again, he tended to do that.

You waltzed off behind him.

“Don’t you need a coat too?”

“No. I’m the snowman, remember?” He smirked back at you. Bucky didn’t smile very often, you always tried to savour the moments that he did.

The two of you exited the compound through a side door, it simply led out into the snowy forest. He began walking out into the snow, along a path he’d obviously walked plenty of times before. The large pines that inhabited the forest were covered in a layer of thick snow. The reminisce of grass and flowers barely poked through the large sheet of white on the ground.

Bucky’s path guided to a small, wooden sniper nest. It was an old sniper range that used to be for protecting the base. As more enhanced people began showing up, HYDRA moved to using giant concrete bunkers instead.

Bucky threw down a thin, dark green blanket and lay down on his stomach. He quickly set up his sniper rifle and adjusted the scope.

“Lie down.” He asserted. You complied, lying down on your stomach next to him. There was nearly no room between your bodies, the sniper nest seemed like it was only made for one. His body radiated heat like a fire. So much for snowman, you thought. Bucky lined up the spare scope and passed it over to you.

“Look through that.”

You stared through the small scope, it showed a few trees over two kilometres away. “What am I looking for?” You asked, quietly.

Bucky didn’t reply. The sound of the silenced sniper announced, and a single pinecone burst into pieces. You turned from the scope to look at the man next to you. “That was 2,000 meters away, holy shit.”

“2,248 meters.” He added, lifting the sniper to sit in front of you. “Your turn.”

“I told you, snegovik, I can’t snipe. I’ve never been good at it.”

“I’ll teach you.” He took the spare scope from your hand. “Get nice and close to the gun, your shoulder should be up against this part,” he motioned to the back end of the rifle, you shuffled so you were in place, “look through the scope,” you did as he instructed, “and here,” his hand grabbed your wrist, the cool metal of his fingers burnt against your hand. You didn’t know much about how his metal arm worked, but he seemed to have amazing control over it. He was so gentle as directed your hand to a dial near the scope, “use this to adjust your sight. Take it to 500 metres out, we’ll start off easy.”

You adjusted the scope. 500m. You agilely moved to line up with a large pine cone resting on one of the giant pine trees.

“Deep breath.” Bucky said lightly, “fire.”

Your finger snapped down the trigger and the bullet flew. Bucky watched through his own scope as the bullet hit its target.

“I did it!” You announced,

“You’re not as bad as you thought.” He smiled, “go further out and try again.”

You and Bucky sat in that tiny sniper nest shooting pinecones for hours.

Bucky left early that morning for his mission, leaving you at the base by yourself for a few days. You spent most of those days shooting and you spent your nights combat training. Unsurprisingly, you’d developed some severe insomnia. In your line of work it wasn’t uncommon. Kraken didn’t want you to take any sort of sleeping medication that the HYDRA doctors suggested because he was afraid it would affect your work ethic. He wanted you staying sharp. Arguably, running off no sleep didn’t have you very sharp.

It was another regular night. 2, maybe 3 in the morning, you were in the gym, giving everything you had to a black punching bag. Your bandaged knuckles were feeling the force with every blow. You tiring body felt shaken under the strenuous training you were putting yourself through.

“It’s a bit late for this, snezhikna.” A deep voice announced from the entrance of the gym. You turned to see a muscular figure. He was covered in black clothing, only revealing his face and his large metallic arm. Not many people were able to sneak up on you, except Bucky, he always could.

“How was the mission?” You returned to your punching bag.

“The target was eliminated.” You heard the faint sound of his boots approaching. By the time you spun around he was directly behind you. “Let’s spar. It doesn’t look like that bag’s putting up much of a fight.”

He moved towards the thin gym mats. You watched as he adjusted his arm, each metal part whirring into place. You unravelled your knuckles, standing on the mat opposite him. The two of you stared in silence for a moment, the tension between you hung like a heavy, black smoke. A vicious grin flicked along your mouth and you began.

Punches were met with dodges, kicks were defended with blocks. You ducked, grabbed his metal wrist and pinned it behind him. He adjusted and threw your body over the top of him. You landed hard on the ground. He smiled. You whipped around and caused his legs to fall out from beneath him. He fell, and you quickly moved to throw your legs around his neck. He lay on the ground in a choke hold between your legs. You didn’t apply too much pressure, just enough to stop him from moving.

“Nice job.” He grunted. Just as you thought he would tap out, he grabbed either side of your waist and twisted you so he was able to free himself from your legs. You scrambled to get off your back but Bucky was too quick. His muscular legs had your ankles pinned down and his metal arm had both of your wrists over your head. It clicked into place and held you pinned to the ground.

You’d never felt weak in your life, you were skilled, strong, smart. But Bucky sitting above you like this made you feel so small.

“How can I tap out if you’re holding my arms?” You joked.

Without a moment's warning Bucky lowered his head and pressed his lips against yours. Everything about Bucky was harsh, rough, and cold. But his kiss, it was gentle and sweet.

You kissed back without hesitation, his metal arm relaxed and your hands tangled into his messy hair. He unpinned your legs and you instinctively wrapped your thighs around his waist. His soft, real hand caressed your waist, holding you as if you were fragile china.

He didn’t touch you with his metal hand. He used it to hold up his weight. He never barely ever touched you with that hand. He never knew how strong it really was and he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. Ever since you’d told him his hand was cold, he’d been much more cautious with it. You were the warmth in his life. He didn’t want to mess that up.

“Snegovik, we can’t do this here.” You smiled up at him, your hands held gently against his cheeks, his stubble tickling your palms.

“Let’s go then, my snezhinka.” He carefully picked you up and led you out of the gym.

Taglist: @selfsun @quxxnxfhxll @stranger-names @bb-tings @is-it-really-a-secret

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky fic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky imagine #Bucky oneshot #Bucky series #Bucky Barnes series #bucky #Bucky barnes #the avengers #tfatws #the winter solider #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider fanfic

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Small Gods: Patience - 4

Patience: A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1786

Warnings: canon typical violence

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

Chapter 4

Natasha was not good at emotions. She didn’t like them - so she buried them. It was better to be the cold and heartless assassin who could be killed at any moment than to risk being hurt in a way that mattered. She shut people out and pushed them towards others so at least she could see what being happy might look like on someone else, even if she never felt it herself.

Except - Natasha was happy.

It took her a little while to realize that was what the feeling was. She recognized happiness in those short joyful bursts where she’d be with a group of people you care about and they’ve all let their walls down and just briefly she would too. That quick burst of serotonin never lasted but always felt good while she had it.

That was nothing like what she was feeling now. It was a long-term contentedness, mixed with hope, and just enough excitement to keep her interested. It was scary really. She was vulnerable. She had something to lose.

Yet all around her things seemed better. Food tasted better. Spending time with her friends felt different - she could connect with them more. Even Clint’s annoying habits seemed to lean more to funny than annoying.

The others noticed it. Sometimes Clint would flinch when he made some stupid joke - like he was expecting to get cuffed on the back of the head, and when it didn’t come he’d look at her suspiciously - almost as if he thought she was saving up to get him later.

She put it all down to you.

Natasha was falling for you. Hard. She sought you out in her free time, and you popped in her head even at awkward times like on missions. You had cracked through her hard outer shell and even though she was scared of her soft parts being exposed, it felt good.

“Nat, head in the game,” Steve shouted.

Natasha whipped around to see a HYDRA agent running directly at her. She flipped forward, kicking them in the head and then following through with her baton. The agent practically flew backward and landed in a heap.

“Nat’s daydreaming about her lover again,” Tony teased as he blasted his way through a bunker.

Natasha scowled. She had been distracted, and she had been thinking about you. This kind of grunt work always felt mindless and repetitive, like putting books into boxes. She was a spy - not a soldier and it was easy to start thinking about other things when she was doing such repetitive work, but usually, the only thing she had occupying her mind was the job and the mindless banter happening over the comms.

“Please never say lover again, Tony,” Clint teased. “That gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Thor says it all the time!” Tony argued.

“Yeah, but that’s Thor!” Clint said. “Thor can say all kinds of weird shit and it sounds good. Doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Why thank you, Barton,” Thor chuckled. “That is very flattering.”

“I’m as good as Thor!” Tony yelped.

There was a sudden group shouting of dissent and Natasha couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. She had always had such a love-hate relationship with the group’s banter during battle. It was nice being part of them, and she did enjoy dropping her own snarky comment into the mix but growing up the way she did - fights were serious - fun was for other people. It felt slightly wrong to be joking while you were also fighting for her life.

“Let’s all agree right now that no one, not even Thor mentions anything about my lovers,” Natasha snarked.

The group continued to fight, Natasha pushing all thoughts of you down and focusing on the job. By the time everyone had been arrested, the operation had been shut down and Natasha had performed the lullaby on Hulk, it was late and Natasha was exhausted to the bone.

She piloted the Quin back silently, just listening to Clint jabber away as her thoughts drifted back to you. She knew there would be a debrief to go to, but what she really wanted was to go straight to your place and curl up next to you before passing out for a good twelve hours.

She could wait. She was better at that now. Besides, it was worth the wait.

She guided the jet down onto the launch pad and as it drew the jet down into the hanger, she and Clint began the cool-down procedures. The back of the jet opened up and everyone got up and trudged off.

When Clint got up to disembark, Steve took his place. “What happened out there today?” He asked. “You nearly lost your head.”

“That’s why we’re a team, isn’t it?” Natasha asked. “Make sure no one misses anything? Get each other’s backs?”

“Of course,” Steve assured her. “And we’re all here to pick up the slack.”

“I’m hearing a big ‘but’ coming,” Natasha said.

Steve smiled and shook his head. “But…” he said. “It’s not like you, Nat. You always have your head in the game more than anyone else. You’re the one I don’t have to worry about. So when I do, it worries me. Is everything okay?”

Natasha frowned. Her head wasn’t in the game. Steve was right. She was happy and happiness meant her work was suffering.

“Everything is fine, Steve,” she said.

“You sure?” Steve said. “I’m only asking as a friend. If there was something up, I’d want to help.”

“It’s fine. I’ll sort it out,” Natasha said.

Natasha was exhausted by the time she showed up at your place. She hadn’t slept for almost thirty-six hours and she thought that she’d broken a rib in the battle. She needed to see you though. Rip it off like a band-aid. She liked you. She liked you a lot. So much that if she didn’t cut it off now it was going to turn into love and once that happened, she wouldn’t be able to do it. If she was with you, she would be worse at her job, and if she didn’t have her job, she was nothing.

She knocked on your door.

She could hear you singing on the other side and when you pulled the door open your whole face lit up. “Tasha!” You squeaked and launched yourself into her arms. She made a pained ‘oof’ sound as you wrapped your arms around her, but that didn’t hurt as much as her heart did right at this moment. You were always so cool and put together, the excitement and pure joy you expressed seeing her were too much. Natasha was going to hurt you and it was going to kill her to do it. “I didn’t know you were back. I am so happy to see you.”

“Krasotka,” Natasha said, closing her arms around you and breathing you in.

You must have heard the pain in her voice because you pulled back immediately and looked you over. “Are you hurt?” You asked, pulling her inside. “Let me get you some ice.”

“It’s fine,” Natasha assured you. “I’m fine.”

“I can tell you aren’t,” you said, guiding her to the couch and almost pushing her down on it to sit. “What do you need? Have you eaten? I can get you food. Something to drink?” You paused and quirked your eyebrow. “Earth-shattering orgasm?”

“Sit down, Krasotka,” she said. “We need to talk.”

You narrowed your eyes and took a seat, folding your arms over your chest. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Natasha nodded. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“‘This’ as in ‘us’?” You asked.

“That’s right,” Natasha said. Her heart was already hurting. She wished she was a stronger person. Someone who was allowed to have everything. Someone who could be in love and do her job. Someone who could be happy and not feel like the world was falling apart because of it.

“I supposed I should be glad you’re doing this in person,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “Do I get a reason?”

“Does it matter?” Natasha asked.

You nodded. “Yes. Because I know you’re happy when you’re with me, and I know you like me, so whatever it is, is stupid and if you say it out loud, I’m hoping you’ll be smart enough to figure that out yourself. I have faith in you.”

“I do like you,” Natasha said. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, raising your hands. “I don’t think I have ever gotten the ol’ it’s not you, it’s me before. Continue.”

Natasha was getting angry now. She had expected you to be upset, not hostile. She had prepared for tears and begging, not to be told she was an idiot. She sat up straight and folded her arms. “This is hard for me, okay? I don’t owe you an explanation. It was fun. But now it’s over.”

“And that’s that?” You said.

“Yes,” Natasha said, getting up. “That’s that.”

You stood up too, bailing her up against the wall. She was half tempted to actually fight you. If that’s what you wanted to make this, she was quite capable of kicking your ass. You brought your face close to hers, she could feel the warmth of your breath on her lips. “You’re making a mistake, Natasha. I don’t know what happened while you were gone that got you all up in your head and made you think you don’t deserve me, but it doesn’t really matter. The world is not a place of fairness or balance. It’s just random chaos and in that, you called to me and I came. You’re going to realize that breaking up is a mistake. I know you will because it is. We’re good together and you wanted me. I can wait. I’m very patient.”

A million different arguments popped into Natasha’s head but instead, she just pushed you away and stormed out. She had never felt the desire to cry as much as she did right now. Her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces and she’d done it to herself. She walked down the street not even knowing where she was headed, all she knew was that she wanted to go back up to you and tell you she was sorry and that you were right, but her anger and her pigheadedness stopped her. There was a bar on the corner, she went straight inside. She wouldn’t cry but she would drink. Maybe she’d even find someone to take her home tonight. Right now she’d do anything to stop herself from thinking that she’d made a huge mistake.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #patience

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