#ayesha1kwritingchallenge

[starrysebastians]

A touch of color

Summary : An old friend of Sam’s comes back to New-York and helps out at the VA, and Bucky just wants some peace and quiet. Somehow bright colors and giggles grow on him. Some mentions of blood and injuries but mostly FLUFF!

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count : 9k

This is an entry for @barnesandco​‘s 1k writing challenge! Congratulations on the milestone! The prompt was...a panel of Bucky doing yoga next to alpine in Falcon and Winter Soldier (2020) - everyone go read this gem.

The sky is a twirling mess of purple and pink as Bucky leans back on the wall facing the building's entrance, arms crossed against his broad chest and head resting against the grey concrete. Tonight really isn't the night. People stare as they pass him even though his glare isn't directed at anyone. 

It's not that he doesn't like going to therapy. Well — no one is going to tell you that it is fun. But it helps. It also helps that Sam runs things and that he knows he can trust him. But his last night was spent among left jabs and right hooks, huffs and grunts and the smell of blood and gun powder. Every part of his body aches and his left cheekbone is still red, his lip still bleeding whenever he tries to smile — which he doesn't, so that's fine.

He spots movement across the road, Sam's figure appearing between passing cars. Bucky lazily pushes himself off the wall, arms still crossed as he shuffles towards the nearest crosswalk. Bright colors reflected on passing windows, he sighs, resting his weight on his non-injured leg. Or the least injured one. Only got sliced. 

Another figure emerges from the building, smaller. One he doesn't recognize and he has to squint to try and figure out who it is. Someone from the VA? The therapy group? It is a face hidden by a stack of papers and books piled up in small arms, fingers spreading in vain to support a weight that keeps slipping away. Bucky hears Sam's laugh resonate when the lights turn red and the cars stop roaring and screeching. Brows furrowed, he tucks his hands into his pockets, walking with more purpose.

Messy hair and chipped red nail polish, your face is only revealed when the pile inevitably tumbles down. Mouth open wide and crinkles by your eyes when you laugh at your own clumsiness, hands meeting Sam's when you both crouch down to fix the mess you have made.

"God, Sorry," you giggle and Bucky is only a few feet away from the scene now, feet soon coming to a halt in front of them. You struggle to fit every book into your arms again and Sam takes a few into his hands, head suddenly rising as he notices an unmoving pair of shoes.

"Hey Buck!" He greets the soldier, arms crossed on his chest again and a neutral expression on his face. Eyes casted down towards you, who have yet to look up — the last book falls again. 

Bucky mutters a greeting to Sam, almost wincing as he bends down to grab the last item of your pile. He couldn't stand through another try that would inevitably lead to books scattered on the floor again, because it is very obvious that you cannot possibly hold that many things into such small arms, but apparently you haven’t come to that realization yourself. Sighing heavily, he rises again, hand turning so he can read the back cover.

Ugh.

Romance.

A scowl is etched on a face painted black and blue as he drops the arm holding the book at his sides, looking directly at you. What kind of grown up woman would read this kind of stupid novel? You look like you are nearing your thirties. An adult. Curious gaze as you maintain eye-contact, warm smile on your glossy and rosy lips. 

"Thank you," you say cheerfully, taking a step forward and holding out your hand — smaller pile balanced against your other arm which he eyes warily. Do you like bending down over and over again as your books fall? 

Your smile never wavers as Bucky first proceeds to throw a glance at Sam first, his eager nod prompting him to take your hand. 

"It's nice to meet you, Bucky," you continue, hand squeezing his. Bucky? Not first name basis but nickname basis already? His gaze goes from your face to Sam again, eyes full of questions. "Sam has told me a lot about you!" 

You step back, and somehow your smile manages to get bigger. You seem so enthusiastic that Bucky feels the need to smile as well, albeit a bit tightly — it hurts his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he gestures towards you, eyebrows raised. Not to be rude, but…

"And…you are?" 

That did seem a bit harsh. Tonight wasn't the night for new meetings and social interactions requiring more than a nod, but here you were with your bright eyes and cheerful tone and he had to do more than that. Sam's friends are supposed to be his and he shouldn't make a bad impression.

"I mean…" he trails off, because he really has nothing to say to soften his question. You don't seem to mind, eyebrows shooting up as your free hand flies to your face. For a moment he thinks the pile of books is going to tumble down again and he really, really wishes it wouldn't.

"Oh! Sorry! Of course," you shake your head. "I'm YN." You seem to bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm an old friend of Sam's, we met in the Air force. I just moved back here. I worked on the East coast for a while, but I missed New-York." He nods, eyes a bit wider than when you started talking.  He tries to nod at everything you say,  but he probably looks like an idiot. "Sorry, way too much information." You chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Bucky doesn't know what to answer. He's tired.

"She's gonna help out at the VA," Sam butts in, smiling as he looks at you. The light has diminished and your features are highlighted by shadows and the light from the lampposts. You seem excited, biting your lip and glancing up at him and Sam every now and then, rocking on your heels. Bucky tears his eyes off you in order to nod at Sam.  

"Are you a librarian?" He asks and you look confused for a second.

"The girl has one book and she's automatically a librarian?" Sam comments and Bucky shrugs helplessly, remembering the weight of your cheesy book in his right hand. 

"How am I supposed to know?" Eyes back on the cover — a picture of intertwined hands. He almost gags.

"Um," you smile. "I'm a psychologist. These are just some books I picked up at the VA's library, actually."  

Disappointment.

This book is indeed meant for you to read it. 

Bucky licks his lips as he nods, everything he already knows about you settling in the back of his mind. Bad taste. Romantic. Soft. And a psychologist. Is Sam secretly satisfied about his psychologist friend being back in town so she can subtly help his brooding friend? He shoots daggers at him, just in case.

"Do you like to read?" Voice soft and inquisitive.

This catches him off guard. Right there, in the middle of an empty side-walk as the night sets in? Three minutes after having met for the first time? This is where you want to go? He stares at you for a second, your brows slightly raised as if his answer was the most interesting and awaited moment of the day. Blinking, he gives you a half shrug.

"Uh. Sure." Very eloquent. "When I get the time. Which is…never." 

Before you can answer, you look down at your phone, bright light displaying the time and you gasp. 

"Shoot. Gotta go!" You look up apologetically and he wants to tell you how okay he is with you leaving so suddenly. "Um. I can't carry all of these to my apartment." You sigh heavily, a hand going to your cheek and scratching your skin. "Will you keep them for a little while? I can come pick them up whenever you want. Or you can bring it to the VA and I'll take it after my shift."

This is directed to Sam and he watches as you two talk over the details with a bored expression. Vacant eyes resting upon the grey wall behind your shoulder, a stark contrast with your colorful outfit. It suddenly throbs around his ribs and he barely registers you waving goodbye at him, gesture wide and energetic. You turn on your heels right before he can return the gesture. It is only when he feels his right hand being weighted down that he remembers the book, lips parting as he looks down. 

Well.

Bucky merely acknowledges Sam as they take the usual turn to their favorite coffee shop near the VA, eyebrows set in a frown as he thinks of romance, strangers who are way too friendly on their first meeting, and your pink sweater. He doesn't voice his thoughts, a knowing smile on Captain America's face. It's mocking, the kind of smile you give someone when you know something they don't and you relish in keeping this secret.

* 

Bucky closes his eyes for a second and lets out a heavy sigh. A deep one, emptying his lungs until his body is screaming at him to inhale again. Chairs scrape around him, quiet thanks and see you next week are exchanged and his lungs are full again. He gets up, soreness from last week's mission completely forgotten, the only reminder being that bluish area around his ribs and the faded scar on his leg. Today it is something else.

He massages his shoulder, tense muscles failing to relax under his touch. His metal arm has been there for a long time and he never feels like he is missing an arm anymore, but sometimes pain still shoots up, mostly after therapy sessions or nightmares.

"You good?" Sam asks from across the room, two chairs in his arms as he cleans up the room. Bucky gazes around him. Everyone else has left.

"Fine," he nods before rolling his head back. The last chairs are put aside and Sam opens the door of the makeshift therapy room.

"Coffee?" He has already grabbed his jacket.

"A man after my own heart," Bucky says with a sigh, fake dreamy voice and jacket thrown over his shoulder.

The coffee shop is only a block away, a small place filled with flowers and plants, colorful planters and wooden furniture. Overly decorated for Bucky's taste but he has to admit that it has a peaceful aura. Sam dragged him there after the first therapy session and kept gushing about this cute place he had discovered near the VA and it has become their official coffee shop. Surprisingly not busy and hidden from curious stares with lights and suspended plants cascading down the windows.

Getting rid of useless cushions, Bucky leans back in his seat in the wooden booth, Sam's voice ordering at the counter echoing around the almost empty place. A thank you nod and Bucky's head lowers until the steam of his drink reaches his face and he relishes the warmth.

Peace and quiet.

Until the bell chimes and a gust of wind bites at his face, a warm greeting almost shouted at the barista. Who the hell speaks so loud?

Oh.

Sam rises from his seat and kisses your cheek as your arms snake around his waist, face squished against his chest for a second before your gaze moves down to Bucky, sitting down with parted lips and raised eyebrows. Unimpressed expression and hand lazily stirring his coffee. The corners of your lips turning upwards until your eyes are nearly swallowed by crinkles.

"Hi Bucky!" You say excitingly, taking off your coat. A soft green that matches the plants around you. "Can I sit here?" You nod at the booth seat next to him, the spot where he put the unwanted cushions. 

"Sure." His voice isn't quite as loud as he had intended it to be, so he clears his throat, sliding to his right to give you more space. You drop next to him. 

"This place is so nice!" You say in awe, lips parted as you take in the colors, vintage posters and pretty mirrors. "I can't believe that I walk down this street almost every single day and I had never noticed it! How long have you been coming here?" 

Bucky feels that given the way your body is slightly turned to the side, you are probably talking to him. But he glances up at Sam, waiting for him to answer. Leaning back in his seat, he thinks for a moment.

"At least a year, I think," he scratches his chin. "Man, has it been that long?" 

Bucky shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee and noticing the way your face follows his movements. Something bubbles up in his chest.

"Do they not drink coffee on the east coast?" He asks as he puts his cup back on the table, tilting his face to look at you, tone dry. You blink before realization dawns on you.

"Oh! Sorry. Didn't mean to stare," you turn back in your seat, grabbing the menu. "I'm just so in awe of people who drink their coffee black like you." A shudder runs across your spine and you visibly gag. "I could never. I feel like I'm not a real adult yet." 

Bucky agrees silently, thinking about the book sitting on his coffee table at home. Eying your outfit — a mess of bright green and blue that hurts his eyes, his gaze travels up and down your body, stops on your face for a second. Hair kept out of your face with a colorful hair tie matching your pullover, rosy cheeks and glittery eyelids, hands moving around as the conversation resumes and you and Sam talk about something that obviously concerns you. 

He is not surprised you and Sam are good friends. You are bright and full of life and just like Sam has this layer of mocking and irony, your cheerfulness doesn't hide the fact that your eyes reflect the same kindness as him. 

He holds back a sigh when you order your drink, something sweet with extra cinnamon on top. He shakes his head lightly, to himself. Your conversation is completely drowned out. Something about the east coast and the colleague you two have in common. Something about Clint, who was apparently part of your team back there for a moment. Looking down to his lap for a second, Bucky busies himself by taking off white hair off his black jeans. Getting a white cat wasn't necessary his wisest and most strategic decision.

A small gasp prompts him to look up sharply, senses suddenly alert. But you are looking down at his thighs and he is confused.

"You have a cat?" Your voice is small, the kind of voice someone uses when talking to a baby. 

"Uh. Yeah," he rests his palms on his thighs, hoping that you cast your gaze somewhere else. Sam has an amused look on his face and Bucky looks helplessly at him.

"Oh my god. I've always wanted a cat. I love them so much." You go on telling Sam about this cat that lived in your neighborhood on the east coast, white noise to Bucky's ears again. Sam leans back in his seat as he throws his head back in laughter and you turn your body to your right again. "What's his name?" 

"It's a she." His coffee cup is empty and he wishes he could busy himself by taking sips and twirling his spoon in the brown liquid. "Her name's Alpine." 

"Alpine," you repeat. "This is such a cute name. I'm assuming she's white?" You add, nodding at his clothes. 

"Great observation skills," he nods. You giggle — it wasn't supposed to be a compliment.

"Do you have any pictures of her?" You ask, looking into his eyes. Your body his fully turned towards his and he feels every single ounce of tiredness and phantom pain his his body. "Sorry, I just love cats a lot." 

"Yeah, I can tell." Sly glance at Sam. "Don't have any pictures, sorry." 

You visibly deflate besides him and he almost feels bad but then Sam changes the subject and you are all rainbows and sunshine again. He wonders how someone can have this much energy on a daily basis. He just wants some peace and quiet.

*

The third time he sees you is at Sam's apartment. Chest vibrating with the beat of a song booming, something he has heard before but can't quite recognize. Glass in his hand, black long-sleeved pullover hugging his body as he sits down on the couch, tight-lipped smile in place. 

This week was rather eventful, the VA and group therapy sessions unfortunately skipped because some psychopath decided he was going to hack into the government's servers and possibly steal life-threatening information — information being codes that should not in any way, under any circumstances, be activated. 

His face his bruised again and Sam is painfully standing across from him, near the entrance. Greeting people and shaking hands seem to send a wave of pain through his body, given the way he goes so frigid every time his arm moves up and down or someone pats him in the back. Bucky hides his chuckles in his drink. Once you get used to the pain it is actually funny to watch teammates try to disguise it and not wince. 

It's better to laugh about it, right? 

The next time Sam's body freezes in pain is when you throw your arms around him, excitedly bouncing up and down. Something about this being your first party ever since you came back to New-York — yes, he can hear you from where he is sitting. You are that loud. Have you had a drink already? 

He hears your gasp as you step back and gently grab Sam's shoulder, sorry written all over your face. He sighs as your hand goes to his cheek and he adverts his gaze before your eyes can meet his. 

He finds himself engrossed in a conversation between him and two other regulars from the VA, plus a former SHIELD agent who helps out from time to time when they need backup on missions. At one point, the latter's brows shoot up in surprise when his eyes go over Bucky's shoulder, mouth dropping.

"Y/N!" The agent steps away from the little group.

Bucky turns around just like it was his name that had been called out. He watches the way your face lights up, hands grabbing the man's arms. Your smile and excitement about seeing someone familiar is almost contagious. Almost. Your fingers are still digging into his skin. Blue eyes linger on them, nails painted purple this time, matching your dress.

"Cute, huh?" 

Bucky whirls around. Sam has his arms crossed and his signature smirk plastered on his face, waggling eyebrows taunting him.

"What? The party? Sure," the former soldier shrugs. Dimmed lights and cocktails. What's not to love. 

"Oh this is how it's gonna be? You pretending to be dumb all of a sudden?" Bucky rolls his eyes.

"I know where this is going Sam and I'm gonna save you some time," he steps closer to him, voice lower. "No."

"No? As in no I am really this dumb?" 

"No as in mention this one more time and I won't be so kind at our next training session," he threatens.  

"You don't have to glare at her all the time you know. It's okay to like her." 

Did he not hear what Bucky said? The latter groans, mouth open in despair.

"Did you plan this?" 

"What?"

"Got your cute therapist friend to come back to New-York so I could stop sobbing and eating ice-cream while watching romantic comedies on TV or whatever it is you think I do in my free time?"

Sam's laugh is even louder than the music, head thrown back and hand on his chest. He doesn't have the time to respond because you draw closer, practically skipping to where they are standing. Bucky eyes your drink threatening to spill over with each move, something you are obviously not concerned with whereas he takes a step back. 

No alcohol on his pullover.

"Hey guys!" You spin loosely, little dress twirling in the air. Are you already drunk? "Sam, this is such a nice party. I didn't know there would be so many people, I would have dressed up," you pout and Bucky looks you up and down once more. A dress and small heels. Is this not considered nice?

"Because you're not…dressed up?" He can't help but blurt out. You look up at him, then at your outfit.

"Oh. Well. I guess," you shrug and Bucky almost wants to grab your arm and keep your drink from ending up on the floor, but clenches his fist instead. You smile at him, cheeks redder than usual, maybe thinking that this was a compliment.

Was it? Quick, another subject.

"Oh, by the way," Bucky says more clearly and Sam looks intrigued. You raise your chin and tilt your head, wide eyes waiting for him to speak. "I still have that book of yours at my place. I always forget to take it on my way to the VA."

"Oh!" Your mouth opens and you nod quickly. "I had completely forgotten about that book. But it's okay! I'm reading something else at the moment, you can keep it for a while!" Maybe his expression says a lot about his opinion on the book and you mistaken it for something else. "If that's okay with you, of course? I mean, I can come by and pick it up whenever you want, you don't have to do a thing. Tomorrow, if you want."

You're babbling and Bucky doesn't know how to stop it. You shift from one foot to another and he waves his hand dismissively. 

"There's no rush. Just…tell me when you're done reading that book," he gives you a smile and you nod, tucking strand of hair between your hair. 

He makes a mental note to hide the book if someone ever visits his apartment — which is unlikely.

*

The halls of the VA are empty, his footsteps echoing against dirty white walls. The last person who left the building was probably the receptionist. This leaves Bucky and Sam, who is somewhere on this floor but Bucky walks around lazily, words spoken in therapy echoing in his mind.

He turns a corner — sounds of paper rustling and light footsteps coming his way.

"Oh!" 

A body collides with his, hard books hitting his chest then his feet — he ignores the slight prickling at his skin when it is your face that appears before him, gaping helplessly at the pile scattered on the floor, arms still raised and holding a now imaginary weight.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," Bucky chuckles humorlessly, a hand wrapped around your upper arm because he thought you were going to lose your balance. 

Fingers slowly leaving your skin, he notices how you don't immediately bend down to pick up your books, laugh at your clumsiness and start apologizing profusely, babbling like you always do. You blink slowly before you finally meet his gaze, arms dropped at your sides.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you say to him. It is not as light as it usually is. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

He can't quite put the finger on it, but something is different. He shakes his head and reassures you, almost wanting to put a hand on your arm again. But you crouch down, slowly, biting your lip as you pick up your books. He does the same, almost smiling at the scene and what it must look like for an outsider — two people bumping into each other, books tumbling down and hands fleetingly touching and brushing against each other when picking them up. This is probably in that book of yours.

"New books already? Do you need the one I have at my apartment? I left it at Sam's office, I can go get it right now if you want." He asks, tone hesitant as he stares at you and the way you move. You look up, both of you still crouching.

"No, that's okay," you give him a half-smile, lips pressed and nude. He frowns. "I'm just taking these books to my office. So people have something to skim over while they wait." He opens his mouth in understanding, standing up at your pace — which is unusually slow.

Is this what feels different? That you are lacking your usual energy?

"Well, lead the way." You look at him questioningly. Somehow your eyes aren't as bright as they usually are. Almost vacant. "To your office, I mean." Understanding dawns on you and you simply nod, the two of you silently walking towards the end of the hallway. The usual spring in your step feels a lot more like shuffling and dragging today, and he discreetly steals a glance at you. 

You're not wearing a single colorful item today, and it feels surprisingly weird. It also feels surprisingly weird how you don't pepper him with questions about his cat, begging him to take pictures or literally bring her to the VA. How you don't try to know how his sessions were, how his day was, if Sam has done anything stupid lately. You are unusually silent, head bowed and face almost devoid of any color.

Bucky wonders why he feels so disappointed with the fact that you are not harassing him.

Your office is full of windows and is probably bright and lovely when the sun is up. Plants hanging and vases full of flowers, piles of books as furniture and soft-looking cushions on the bright green seats, it feels warm and homey. It feels like you.

Mimicking your gestures, he sets his pile of books on your desk, then wipes his hands on his jeans. Somehow, having to make conversation feels so hard and he wonders how you do it all the time.

"No colors today?" He nods at your clothes, mentally wincing at this sentence. You look down, then give him a light shrug.

"Laundry day. Had nothing else to wear," you smile and it doesn't reach your eyes. He can tell.

"Do you, uh, want to go grab a hot chocolate with Sam? I know he's around somewhere. Probably dealing with some paperwork, I'm sure he'll be glad to be taken away." Why is he giving so much detail? The simple mention of the coffee shop was enough. Somehow he feels like he has to make up for all the blabbering you are not doing.

You bite your lip, eyes roaming over his face for a second as you think. Then you look down, and up again.

"Maybe another time, Bucky, I have a lot to do," you nod as if you were trying to convince yourself. "But thank you for asking." Your smile is more genuine this time.

Bucky leaves the building alone, hands in his pockets as he walks home and focuses on the sidewalk. Seeing you like this doesn't feel right and maybe it's easy taking people for granted when they are always so bright and happy — it is extremely annoying and invasive, most of the times. But still. He guesses it has grown on him.

*

"And we're absolutely sure this is him?" Bucky asks, crossing his arms and leaning against a lamppost.

"A hundred percent. We ran the tests twice. This is our guy." They stare at each other for a second, serious and determination written all over their furrowed brows and pinched lips, tense muscles and stance.

The door opens with a loud sound, like someone just punched it open, and you step out. Wide smile while you put gloves on. Heels clicking on the side walk, the early evening's light shines upon your features, the shadow of your lashes on your cheek fascinating Bucky until you look up and catch him staring.

"Hey guys!" You greet them sweetly. You have been in your office all day.

"Just the person I wanted to see." Sam smirks but to trained ears it sounds serious.

"Oh?" You perk up and Bucky remembers you know him even better than he does.

"We're leaving on a mission this week. I'm gonna need you to take over therapy sessions until we come back. They all love you already," he explains and you lick your lips as you nod with big listening eyes.

"Okay. Sure. Do you have any idea when you'll be back?" You draw closer to them, maybe in an attempt to hide yourself from the wind coming straight at your face, hands constantly trying to keep your hair from your eyes.

"We'll probably be gone for a few days," Sam glances at Bucky for confirmation and the latter gives a nod of approval. "A week at the most." 

"Can't leave Alpine alone for too long anyway," is muttered but you suddenly raise your eyebrows and Bucky knows he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Can I - Do you have anyone to look after her?" You ask, joining your hands together, hopeful expression on your face. Bucky sighs, shaking his head from left to right. "Can I? I mean, you'd have to give me a key to your apartment and I know we don't know each other that much but I promise I won't touch anything. I'd just love to cat-sit." 

"Cat-sit?" Bucky repeats, deadpan expression.

"Cat-sit," you repeat, almost proudly. "Baby-sit, cat-sit…" You shrug and Sam snickers. One look at Bucky's face is enough to make him laugh. 

Sam's phone dings and given the look on his face, it is mission-related. They have to leave and go over the mission's details — too bad.

"So?" 

He is already a few steps away, backing up slowly but still facing you. His response involves a lot of grunting and muttering and you squint at him until something clear comes out of his mouth.

"I'll text you the details."

"You don't have my phone number!" You realize when he is already across the street and the only thing you get is a wave of dismissal. Sam winks and you smile to yourself.

*

Bucky's couch is comfortable, surprisingly enough. Cushions and a wool blanket wrapped over it, full of white hair but soft and fuzzy. You mentally scold yourself for thinking he would have bad taste or basic and uncomfortable furniture — but it does match the way he behaves. 

Alpine's paws resting on your thighs, the TV being a simple background noise as you like to sit down and observe Bucky's environment. Neutral tones and a few pictures on the walls, nothing much. A lot of books, mostly history. You enjoy learning about him through decoration and possession. Someone simple and sober but so curious, who has so much to offer.

Your fingers mindlessly stroke white fur as purring almost make your hand vibrate. You think you have never been so at peace.

Then something shatters behind you and you jump on your feet, body twisting to face the window as a scream leaves your mouth. Alpine is already nowhere to be seen.

What the hell.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You shout, hands going for your hair. Bucky Barnes stands in front of his shattered window, hair disheveled and blood oozing from his nose. He barely spares you a glance as he rushes past you, loud footsteps echoing in the apartment. 

You follow him with your mouth wide open after having helplessly stared at the glass scattered on the wooden floor. Why — why would he do this? Who breaks in their own apartment? Who does that?

"I should be asking you the same thing," he huffs as he forcefully pulls on something hidden inside the floor and you simply gawk. "Weren't you supposed to feed the cat and be on your way?"

You stutter a few times before getting the first word right. He is already in another room, bent over a desk and retrieving papers or…whatever. You stand behind him again.

"I said I was going to cat-sit," you end up saying, wide eyes following his every move. The traces of mud in his wake and his heavy breathing. Something is definitely wrong. "Does baby-sitting involve feeding the baby and then leaving him all alone? I don't think so."

Okay. Maybe this isn't something you should have added. His glare literally sends shivers down your spine and he groans so loud you have a hard time swallowing. You don't know what to do. He jogs towards the living room, backpack in hand.

"What's going on?" You ask timidly. He stops in his tracks and it is like he suddenly remembers you are here.

"You have to go. Right now." Tone stern.

"Are you okay? What happened?" You step closer. He nods towards the window.

"Use the fire escape. Someone might be at the door already." 

No explanation? 

"Who might be at the door?" You crouch down besides him, his hand tugging at the bag's zipper. He is on is feet in a blink of an eye, strong hands grabbing your arms and pulling you up with him. You stagger against him. His shakes you by the shoulder, pushing you towards the window.

"I don't have time for this right now, Y/N." Despite the obvious urgency of the situation, your shoulders drop at his patronizing tone. 

He has never taken you seriously. Maybe he notices your reaction or maybe this is a coincidence but his grip on your shoulders relaxes and he sighs heavily, head dropping a little so his eyes are on the same level as yours.

"Can you just — tell me what's going on?" You feel suddenly awfully close to him, hot breath on your face. He urges you towards the exit again, a hand sliding to your back and helping you step outside without cutting yourself on broken glass.

"Not now. Later. Wait by my bike and I'll come and get you."

You are not halfway outside when an explosion shakes the ground. Bucky's door. 

"Fuck." He raises a gun you hadn't even seen him grab and you can't help but stare at his back, muscles tensing as he pulls the trigger. A swarm of men in black invade the apartment and you drop down on your knees, peeping at the scene unfolding before your eyes.

Bucky masters every move and you gape in awe at his metallic and painful hooks, his kicks that send agents flying across the room and almost splinter walls, picture frames dropping and shattering on the ground. The same thing happens to the coffee table, and soon enough the whole place is a mess. Grunts and huffs and shouts, Bucky swearing under his breath as one last person is left standing.

Or so he thinks.

Your entire body freezes when movement in the corner of the room grabs your attention. A shaking hand that is slowly reaching for a gun left on the ground. Bucky too focused on his last opponent and his knife. 

Shit.

One leg thrown over the window frame and you're in the room again, side-stepping the fight and going for the gun. You think you hear Bucky call your name but this isn't what you focus on.You slide on the ground, hand meeting glass shards as you grip bloody fingers to keep them from reaching the weapon. The man isn't as weakened as you thought he would be, loud grunts so close to your ears as you struggle against him. You almost have the gun. You have it. It's in your hands.

Until it isn't and it is aimed at the center of the room again.

"Bucky!" 

The trigger is pulled right when you push his arm as forcefully as you can to divert the bullet's trajectory, and the detonation is so loud in your ears that the ringing is the only thing you can hear for what feels like an entire minute. This time you do grab the gun and one punch against already-bloody temples knocks the man out again.

The room is dead silent as you get up on shaky legs, whirling around with your stomach in knots. Please please please do not lay in a puddle of your own blood in the middle of your living room.

Maybe the look on his face is worse.

"What the fuck!" He crosses the room with two single strides and you don't even have the time to open your mouth before he shoves you against the wall by the window. "What the fuck were you thinking? Are you fucking stupid?"

"I'm — You were…you weren't looking!" You stutter, looking up at him with wide, wide eyes. He wasn't looking! 

"So the only way for you to grab my attention was getting yourself killed?" His eyes are as wide as yours, cheeks reddened in anger and an iron grip on your shoulders. Your heart is beating out of your chest and he can probably hear it. "What part of get out of here did you not understand? Do you not speak English?" 

His barks grow louder as you shrink against the wall, him towering over you. You focus on your breathing as he keeps screaming and screaming and it is when you start calming down and the adrenaline runs off that you realize you might be in pain.

"You don't run straight in front of a gun. This is so fucking reckless," he goes on with his lecture and you swallow thickly. 

"I'm sorry." Your voice is way smaller than what was intended, and so much softer than his scolding.

"You should't have — "

He stops talking, eyes raking over your face and posture. Brain registering your tone. 

Shit.

"You're hurt," he states, matter-of-factly. His right hand leaves your shoulder, sliding until his fingers wrap around your bicep and steady you, more delicately this time. Eyes going down and down until they stop on a trail of blood along your thigh. The bullet grazed you, you know it. "Fucking hell. You got shot. Great. That's just great."

* 

One of the many New-York safe houses is a loft in a nice neighborhood of Brooklyn where no one would suspect a thing. The roaring of Bucky's motorbike still rings in your ears even though you are sprawled on the couch, ruffling and the sound of bottles clinking right next to you.

"Plain black? No logo? Letters?" Sam asks, pacing across the living room, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. 

"Nothing," Bucky confirms, a towel that used to be white growing red when he presses it against your thigh. One flesh hand holding your knee firmly while he tends to the wound with his metal one, not sparing you a glance.

"Not even a…skull with tentacles?" 

"Ha. Ha." Deadpan expression on Bucky's face, his eyes stop on your face as you look up to watch Sam. Eyes and smile gentle at the latter and you don't seem phased at all when alcohol touches your wound. Bucky adverts his gaze.

A white furry shape jumps on the couch, walking over bloody towels and a ripped shirt and you coo, twisting your body to caress her and completely disregarding the situation you are in— Bucky curses under his breath.

"She's gonna get blood on her paws." Something about the word paws in the mouth of the Winter Soldier makes you giggle and he glares at you. "Hilarious, yeah. Sam. She literally jumped in front of a gun." You sigh. "Put a target right on her fucking forehead."

"Yeah, she does that sometimes." 

Why is everyone so calm?

"His grip on the gun wasn't strong enough to aim so high," you add, referring to the remark on your forehead.

Steely glare. You shrug with one shoulder. 

"One question," Sam interrupts the eye-contact, tone suddenly dead serious and Bucky turns around to look at him questioningly, hand overing over your now closed wound. "You brought the cat?" 

Bucky freezes and you can't help but laugh.

"Yes? You think I'm gonna leave her alone in a thrashed apartment?" Deadpan expression and a bored tone.

"Well…" 

"He tucked her into his jacket," you jump in. "It was so cute." 

Bucky glowers at you when you start gushing about the way you grabbed his waist to hold onto him when the motorbike started but felt warm fur and realized it was Alpine in his jacket. Blah, blah, blah. Cute. Blah. What was he supposed to do with her?

He busies himself with unwrapping bandages and grabs your leg again.

"Don't you have some cute band-aid I can use instead?" You pout and he blinks. Alpine is purring next to you and Sam is opening every single cupboard in the kitchen, in hopes of finding something edible.

"Um. You get a band-aid when you…scratch your knee or something, Y/N," he says in a dry tone. "Not when you practically shoot yourself."

You giggle again. Why is everything so funny to you?

"Bucky, the bullet grazed me. This is literally a scratch. Look!" You apply pressure on the red spot like it is nothing and freeze when blood does start appearing on the surface again. "Oh. Well. Anyway. I've had worse. I want cute pink band-aids." 

"How old are you, five?" Bucky shakes his head in aggravation. 

Sam comes back with two cans of…something in his hands, which you both eye warily. 

"You know…I don't mind being hungry. At all," you cringe. 

"As much as I hate to say this…I agree," Bucky nods slowly, lips almost curled up in disgust. You elbow him, bright smile on your face, eyebrows wiggling. Yes. He agreed with you. Big deal. "Do you ever…Stop?" 

"What? Not spending my time brooding and frowning like you do?" 

He looks back on the day he found you shuffling in the hallways of the VA, pale face and dark clothes, a moment where he actually found himself possibly caring and feeling something for you. It's gone. The moment he realized you were bleeding and his chest constricted with something he couldn't quite place? Gone.

"Sam, do you think you could get me pink bandages like you did last time?" You resume your demands.

He drops on the couch next to you, Bucky finding it amusing how your body almost jumps. Sam shoulders are shaken with laughter.

"God, I think the doctor was about to murder you himself." Head shaking from left to right as he seems to be recalling the event.

"Last time?" Bucky inquires in a casual tone. Not that he cares. He doesn't.

"Um. Well. I got shot and you know how hospitals are. It's so dull and sad. Plus it stinks. So I wanted some color on my bandages and the doctor ending up yelling at me! Can you believe it?" You don't falter as you mention possibly fatal wounds and Bucky sits down on the floor, your thigh neatly bandaged. 

"Someone being fed up with you? No, I cannot imagine," he mocks, eyes meeting Sam's because he feels the need to observe the way he reacts to your story.

"If I'm not gonna leave a bed in two weeks I might at least get comfortable," you pout and Bucky's eyebrows rise slowly. A glance at Sam again. 

"That must have been some nasty shot," he trails off, eyes watching you carefully.

"Eh," you wince. "You could say that. The scar makes it very hard for me to wear bikinis."

"Yeah. Bet you look terrible in them," Bucky mutters and he isn't excepting you to raise the clean t-shirt Sam provided you with when yours had to be ripped off — it wasn't actually necessary but somehow Bucky felt like tearing up something so colorful and visually aggressive to him.

He falters when the scar is bigger than what he was excepting, way bigger. And he leans back, hands set on the floor behind him to support the weight of his body, arms sore after all that fighting. Looking at your eyes and the sparkles in it as you laugh when Sam's fingers tickle your stomach and you immediately cover your skin again. He knows the kind of bullet that leaves these kinds of scars — not just simple bullets. He knows their type and shape and the damage they leave in their wake by heart and he definitely knows the pain each of them inflicts, and somehow his chest tightens at the thought of you knowing it too.

You're a therapist. How would you experience gunshots? 

He blinks when he notices you smiling at him. Almost knowingly. He adverts his gaze, getting up on his feet in a second and grabbing the first aid kit to put it away. These thoughts linger for a while in his mind.

*

The glass almost escapes your hand as you gasp — it simply clinks loudly when it meets Bucky's metal hand, water barely escaping its container. You put a hand on your chest, looking up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh before meeting his eyes again.

"Jeez. Can't you…I don't know…announce your arrival or something?" You take your glass of water back, almost snatching it out of his grasp, still heavily breathing.

"Announce my arrival?" Bucky repeats drily. "Like, use a megaphone and yell, Y/N, I'm going down the stairs? Y/N, I'm in the kitchen? 

You roll your eyes, gulping down your glass of water with a pill and his gaze goes down to your leg, lightly shaking as you rest your weight on it.

"You shouldn't be up," he states gruffly and you nod wordlessly at the bottle of painkillers on the counter. "Well you could have asked me. Or Sam. The point is that you don't hurt yourself more when taking them." 

"Yes sir," you mock and leave your glass in the sink before closing the bottle. You take a step forward, hands grabbing the edge of the counter and for a second he thinks your legs are going to give out.

"Here," he mutters, gently peeling your fingers off the marble surface and placing your arm around his shoulders, his other hand snaking around your waist. You're warm and even though the smell of antiseptic still lingers around you, your shampoo does reach his senses. You whine as you walk towards the couch, hand gripping his shoulder. Once you are laying down again, he props you up with pillows, careful hands fluffing them. "Are you comfortable?" 

He realizes how close he is to you. Leaning over you, hands almost caging you as he pulls a blanket over you. You gazing up at him, almost in a daze. You simply hum, blinking slowly as he meets your eyes. He clears his throat, posture straightening and his warmth leaving you.

You don't want him to go.

"You couldn't sleep?" Is the first thing that crosses your mind, voice louder in precipitation. He stops in his tracks, turning around. It is hard to make out his features in the living room, the only light being that of the moon through window blinds. You do see him shaking his head. "Stay with me for a while, we can talk. Or not. Just sit in silence. Whichever you prefer. But I'm bored."

He chuckles slightly, sitting down and resting his back on the couch. It is silent for a little while, a comfortable silence.

"Where's Alpine?" You inquire.

"Upstairs," he says softly, thinking about the white fur ball on his bed.

"She really is the cutest cat I've ever seen. I'm not exaggerating," you say dreamily and he smiles even though you can't see it. "It definitely helps, right?"

"Helps with what?" 

"I don't know. Everything, I guess? Coming home to be greeted by something soft and — someone who's happy to see you…" You trail off. Is this the therapist coming out of you?

"Well, she's happy someone's home to feed her, yeah," he huffs, shifting and turning so he is facing the couch again.

"Yeah, that too. But I've noticed that it always help my patients when they get a pet. Well, it's mostly dogs, you know. Because most of them need service dogs anyway, but the ones who don't still prefer them. They think cats aren't affectionate or something, you know?" You bite your lip. "Not that you are a patient. I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you," you chuckle humorlessly for the first time in the months he's known you."I've learnt not to take my job home." 

He stays silent for a second.

"It does help." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. It creates a routine. Getting up to feed her, opening the windows when she wants to go out, changing the litter…" He sighs.

"It's a reason to get out of bed and be somewhat productive," you nod.

Bucky can't help but think back on your conversation with Sam. Questions nagging at him all night.

"How'd you get shot?" He blurts out and he slides closer to the couch. You hesitate for a second.

"Someone I used to treat back when we were in the Air force," your tone is relaxed but holds sadness, resignation. "He had a…an episode during one of our sessions and I tried calming him down but he was…back there, you know? And he had managed to slip past security with a gun, so. Yeah." 

"I'm sorry." Bucky doesn't really think when he puts a hand on yours, fingers stroking your skin.

"S'okay," he feels you shrugs, hears the sound of fabric ruffling. "It was a long time ago." 

"And what you said earlier," he probes. Why is he doing this? You are supposed to be the one with all the questions and the voice that won't stop talking.

"Hm?" You hum questioningly.

"Taking your job home." 

"Oh," you nod. "The one who shot me. I think I let my guard down because I had feelings for him — not, deep feelings. But, I liked him, you know? I was younger… and I thought I could truly fix people, and if anyone could fix him then it should have been me." You flip your hand up in order to intertwine your fingers with his and he stares at you, furrowed brows and attentive eyes. "I know better now. Some people are…you think you're making progress with them but it's always touch and go. Sometimes they're back home but still on the field somehow." 

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Bucky breathes out. His fingers trace the lines of your palm, trailing up towards your arm, trailing down. Leaving goosebumps in their wake. You grab his hand, pulling him towards you — more like letting him know you are trying to pull him towards you with the few strength you have left tonight, and he obliges.

"It's good that you and Sam are working together," you murmur. "You two make a great team. You look healthy. Even though you're frowning all the time." 

He doesn't really care about Sam at the moment. Your face is so close to him and your hot breath caresses his face. He nods. He does feel somewhat at peace now.

"So, I definitely do not need you as my therapist, right?" Lips so close to yours. You shake your head with a smile, delicately setting a hand on his chest.

"You mean, is this allowed?" You smirk, fingers closing on the fabric of his shirt and bringing him closer. Your eyes are definitely on his lips — he licks them in anticipation, pupils blown out. He leans forward, almost closing the gap separating you. Heart beating fast and stomach twisting.

And then the stairs creak.

Fuck. 

* 

Bucky stops in front of his door, holding his breath and slowly drawing his gun. It's unlocked ; it shouldn't be unlocked. He was gone for five days, duffel bag heavily thrown on his shoulder and limbs aching. Not another fight, please.

Pushing the door with the back of his hand, he starts slowly before pushing it wide open, gun aimed at whoever might be standing behind the door — but no one is. 

"What the…" His voice trails off as he closes the door behind him, duffel bag dropping on the floor with a thud. Arms still raised in front of him, eyes going over every single hiding spot. Quiet footsteps on the floor, the art of silence skillfully mastered by a former Winter Soldier.

The door to his room is left ajar and he sneaks in.

You gasp.

"What the hell?" His gun is immediately dropped, hand almost shaking at the idea of even pointing a gun at your face. His eyebrows shoot up in bewilderment.

Tight leggings and a white top, sitting cross-legged on the floor with your hands resting on your knees. Is this…

"What the hell are you doing?" He hisses, unloading his weapon and disassembling it. You blink at him.

"I'm looking after Alpine," you say as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. As if confirming your story, Alpine goes from your side to his feet and rubs her face on Bucky's legs, meowing.

"You're looking after — " He runs a hand through his knotted hair, tugging as he looks up at the ceiling. "Why?" 

"Well, you were on a mission?" You look confused at his baffled expression.

"Yes. I was. But — " 

"I kept your key," you shrug. "I thought we had a deal!"

"It was one time!" He exclaims, hands in the air. You stare at him and he deflates. "And what are you doing on the floor? Is this — "

"Yoga." Again with the casual tone. "It's good for my leg. You should try it, especially after a mission. Sit!" 

What?

"C'mon!" You repeat with an excited smile — at the prospect of doing yoga with him? — even patting the floor besides you. 

"I'm not doing yoga. With you and my cat." Deadpan expression.

But you keep patting the floor and you look up at him with those big puppy eyes of yours and that twinkle in them and he can't help but yield. Because, well — it's you. And saying he hadn't been thinking about you non-stop ever since he pulled you out of his apartment and almost kissed you  on the couch would be a lie.

"I can't believe this," he mutters, discarding his boots and sitting down, stiffly, muscles sore. Trying to imitate your position, he crosses his legs uncomfortably.

"There. Lotus position. You know, it's such a great metaphor for life — you're a flower blossoming." He snorts, head thrown back and you don't falter. "Now close your eyes, straighten your back and take a deep breath. Like this!" He cannot focus on the exact move you are showing him, instead staring at your face and your hands, fingers delicately forming a zero.

And here he is, cross-legged on the floor, straightening his back and breathing in deeply. Here he is, doing a yoga pose on the floor of his room, Alpine curiously standing between the two of you. This is ridiculous. 

"Feels good, huh?" You still have your eyes closed and he mentally rolls his eyes. He doesn't feel a thing.

"Uh. Yeah." You open one eye and scold at him. You apparently sense it when he lies.

Putting your hands on the floor in front of you, you slowly slide froward until your knees are touching. Like a reflex, muscle memory, his hands are on your knees, warm palms engulfing them, thumbs stroking your skin through light green fabric.

"Hi," you smile softly, leaning forward.

"Hi," he murmurs, busy staring at your face, your lips.

"I think we…have some unfinished business, you and I? Right?" You say softly, a hand brushing his bruised cheek.

You don't wait for a response. Arms snaking around his shoulders, hands pressed behind his neck. It is not comfortable and his back is throbbing but he meets you halfway, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. Who would have thought he would kiss you while doing a lotus position? 

Your eyes close when his lips touch yours, a soft peck at first. Something sweet and innocent, something delicate that makes you smile against his lips. And again. And again. Until a sense of urgency grows, the need to be closer after having pinned for him for so long. From cross-legged to your knees hitting the floor, arms tightening around his neck and chests colliding. This kiss is harder, not perfect and delicate but mouthes and tongues crashing almost painfully into each other,  chest heaving and panting echoing in the room, cold fingertips sliding under your top, running over your soft skin, gripping your back.

Then something tickles your cheek and you part, ragged breathes and confused looks. You almost whine at the loss of contact and warmth. Alpine meows between the two of you, tail delicately caressing your cheek, then Bucky's.

"Oh c'mon," he groans and you laugh, hands lovingly running over white fur. You look up at him, lips pink and swollen and eyes bright.

"Well I am cat-sitting. She can't have her food provider distracted, can she?"

* 

The bell chimes and Bucky looks up through the steam coming out of his drink. Sam leans back in his seat as you greet him, although your are eyes dead set on the person sitting across from him. Captain America starts pulling a chair next to him but you slide on the booth until your arm touches metal, smiling.

"Hey guys. Good session today?" 

A silent nod from Sam and a side-glance from Bucky. You're wearing bright red today, matching lipstick and sweet perfume invading the air around them. A drink is set in front of you and look up confusedly at the waitress, Bucky thanking her.

"You ordered for me," you state, surprised. He simply shrugs and you lower your head, nose almost touching the surface of the drink. Raising your eyebrows, you look back at him. "Cinnamon." He nods, corners of his mouth slowly turning up.

Sam is confused. The way Bucky smiles at you. The way he doesn't slide to his right to keep your arm from always bumping into his and seems to be unbothered by your closeness. Not a single frown or lip-pinching when you get too excited and start blabbering and your voice gets louder. Rather an amused look, soft eyes focused on your face and your moving lips. Ordering for you and having the drink ready at the exact moment you arrive.

Interesting.

"Did you guys…" Sam starts and his voice trails off, glancing between the two of you. The look you exchange and the way you lean slightly on Bucky's arm. The latter raises a brow. "Okay. You did." 

You can't contain a giggle.

"I knew it. I fucking knew it." 

Cinnamon and bright colors aren’t so bad after all. Giggles and babbling either, Bucky thinks as his arm goes to rest on your shoulders.

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky and alpine #james barnes x reader #alpine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot

[nekoannie-chan]

Not professional

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader

Word count: 698 words.

Summary: It was your first interview as an Avengers’ member, maybe you said a secret from Brock that he didn't want anyone to know.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, nothing explicit, bad words.

A/N: This is my entry to the @xbuchananbarnes‘s Dani’s Awesome Writing Challenge Mix Vol. 1 with the prompt #3:

“Quit smiling, you idiot. You’re supposed to be a professional”

Also my entry to the @barnesandco‘s Ayesha’s 1k+ Writing Challenge! With the dialogue prompt #19:

“__. I swear to God, if you do that again, I’ll feed you to Tony’s stupid robot”.

In this fic Brock is not HYDRA, he is also part of the Avengers.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie @charmed-asylum

You enjoyed watching Brock train with each other, in the end being part of the Avengers wasn't so bad, not to say that he had been the one who convinced you to join them. 

“Y/N!” Brock called you. 

"What?"

”This is the fifth time I've called you, okay?” 

"Yeah, I was just distracted.” 

"I've noticed," Brock replied while he rolled his eyes. “I was asking you if you're not going to train too.” 

"I prefer to see you or... another kind of ‘training’," you said approaching him to kiss him. 

"Don't forget that this afternoon we have an interview... am I interrupting something? Steve asked, entering the gym. 

"No Cap, that's just what I was reminding Brock," you responded by showing a smile.

Brock winced and went to the locker room to change. 

"Nervous about your first TV interview?” Steve questioned you. 

"A little bit. Do you do this very often? I mean being interviewed.” 

"At least about six times a year, Tony says it's for the team to have public relations and promote us.” 

"What kind of questions do you ask?” 

"Sometimes personal questions, sometimes about what you think of the other members, as it's your first interview they'll ask you too many questions, I'm sure they'll also be interested in your relationship with Brock.” 

"I can already imagine the headlines tomorrow: Crossbones has a relationship," Brock said, going back into the gym after changing his clothes.

"I'll be the star of the interview this time and honey, you'll move on to the background.” 

"My fans are going to get sad," Brock joked with a smile. 

"Well I wouldn't like that, so we broke up," you replied as seriously as you could, you didn't want him to realize you were joking too. 

"I was joking, forgive me," he approached you, putting on a scolded puppy face. 

"I was joking too, fool.”

 You looked yourself at the mirror for the last time, they had just told you that in five minutes the interview would begin, you had never been to a TV studio before, let alone appeared on television.  

The questions had been simple and some even funny, it was just like Steve had told you. 

"Well Y/N, it's been a very nice night, I'd like to thank you for agreeing to interview you, now the last question, your relationship with our dear Crossbones has been part of the headlines in recent weeks, but we don't know much about it, what's their relationship like?” the television host questioned. 

"Well, Brock may look like a tough guy, but he's very sweet, he even has a stuffed German shepherd dog, he says it's the same as he was when he was a kid," you responded nervously.

"Really? That's very sweet.” 

“Y/N...” 

You could tell how Brock's face had turned completely red and he was making a great effort not to show his anger, but you had to take revenge before you left the Compound you realized that he had eaten the cake you had baked for the next day, especially for Wanda’s birthday. 

"Brock," you called him when you came off the set. 

He turned and made his way to you.

 “Quit smiling, you idiot. You’re supposed to be a professional”

"I was, I could have said something worse, and you weren't supposed to have eaten Wanda's birthday cake," you counterattacked. 

The next day the interview appeared on all the newscasts both televised and written, not to say that it had caused a stir on social media, Brock furiously turned off the TV in the room after hearing what his fans were saying about it. 

"Come on, Brock, I could be the president of your official fan club, they loved your stuffed animal, they're even posting drawings about it on Instagram," you showed her your cell phone.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you do that again, I’ll feed you to Tony’s stupid robot”.

"Brock, we know your life would be very boring without me, you can't deny that you love me, don't be angry, today is Wanda's birthday, at night I'll give you anything you want," you replied as you winked at him, he shook his head and laughed. 

#danisawesomewcmix #ayesha1kwritingchallenge #brock rumlow x reader

[alyxkbrl]

Good Looking Stranger

Summary: A handsome stranger finally stops by the café where you work

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1,6k+

A/N: This is my submission to @browngirlmagic 1k Writing Challenge, congratulations Ayesha!

This is the first time I write anything Marvel related, so please be nice. I tried to do Bucky justice.

Thank you always @shellbilee for helping me, and making sure I didn’t write anything unintelligible. I love you girl!

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

It was a quiet night, and with finals behind your lucky regulars, it would probably remain like that for the rest of the month.

Your hope for better tips rested on the increasing temperature and tourists seeking refuge and refreshments in the small café where you worked.

You had the evening shift and it was almost time for the handsome stranger to cross the street and pass by the window.

Tall, dark haired, and if there was any more light, you’d have been able to see the color of his eyes, but your bet was on blue.

Like clockwork, he exited the subway station, crossed the street and, to your amazement and slight panic, entered the café.

You held your smile as best as you could while you served a steaming cup of cappuccino and a slice of carrot cake to an old man sitting at the table closest to the window. 

As if drawing your eyes like a magnet, his figure strutting through the room made you slowly turn. He chose the very last stool by the counter, sitting sideways with his back to the wall and facing the door. 

Before his eyes could reach yours on his sweep of the room, you swiftly turned back.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” you asked the older gentleman, and his full-mouthed ‘no’ was enough to get you moving.

“Good evening and welcome!” you greeted the newcomer with what you hoped was a warm smile, doing your best to hide your anxiety. “What can I get you?”

His head, buried in his phone until you spoke, snapped up. His eyes met yours, their surprising shade, a steely, deep sky blue in the dim lights, took your breath away.

After a moment of mutual gawking, he blinked and cleared his throat.

“Uhm, I’ll have a...” he paused, frowning at the menu written on the wall. “Uh, a latte.”

Uncertainty clear in his tone, his eyes swiveled back to yours and a frown mirrored the one you unwittingly displayed.

“Sure thing. It’ll only take a sec.” you replied, shaking off the odd impression you had, and moved away to prepare his order, making sure to always keep an eye on him.

He didn’t look back at you. His eyes were again glued to the screen and undiluted tension colored his features.  

Between preparing coffee and evaporating the milk, he had started typing. 

You couldn’t help noticing he was wearing gloves when you were almost in summer, and weirder still, that he’d wear them inside.

You finished making his latte, and stood opposite the oddly mysterious man who apparently was in another galaxy.

“Here you go!” you announced, and once more his attention was seized abruptly. “Would you like anything to eat?” you insisted to his clear annoyance. 

“No, thanks.” he answered, turning his focus immediately back to the device in his hands.

“Trouble in paradise?” you tried to get his attention, and rolled your eyes internally at your lame choice of words.

He sighed and put the phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Kinda.” he started, with visible reluctance. “Are you like the bartender of this coffee shop?”

The tilt of his head was really cute, and it was your turn to hold back a sigh for an entirely different reason.

“Kinda.” you threw back at him, quirking your brow.

The smile he rewarded you with was something to die for. Never had you seen something so spontaneous and genuine from a complete stranger. It disarmed you of any annoyance you may have harbored.

“Tell me all about it. I promise it dies with me.” you prodded.

Crossing your arms over the counter, you settled in a somewhat comfortable position and gave him your undivided attention.

“Well, there’s this woman…” he began.

“Oooh!” you interrupted smiling, and earning another heart-stopping smile in return.

“She works for a company that…” he paused, looking away for a second and brought his beautiful eyes back to yours. “Well, her company competes with mine, kinda. Like industrial espionage, you know?”

“Oh, the plot thickens. And you like her?” you half asked, half guessed.

“She’s gorgeous, but I haven’t really had a chance. A chance to get to know her better, I mean.” he looked at his full glass of latte and took a sip.

“And is it impossible to do that?” you asked, more engrossed in the story than you had intended.

“Not impossible. But it would go against a lot of rules and…”

“Do you believe she is worth it?” you interrupted him.

“I believe she can be, yeah. I want to get her out of trouble. That company of hers… it’s bad news.” he shook his head and his jaw twitched. “I would have to make sure my moves were well planned, and that I didn’t screw up.” he replied, lost in his thoughts.

“You know, the Second Law of Thermodynamics states that everything goes from order to disorder.” you said, casually. “If you think you can control chaos, you’re setting yourself up for failure. And whenever you think you have control, that’s when things blow in your face.”

He studied you for a second longer than you were comfortable with, and as soon as you busied yourself with the over polished counter surface, he opened his mouth.

“You studied Physics?” he asked quietly.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“I read a lot.” you replied matter-of-factly. “Don’t sleep much.”

Your shrug dismissing it caused him to squint minutely. You pretended not to see, moving instead closer to the client who had just come in and sat much closer to the door and the other man.

You held a finger, signaling you’d be back in a minute.

While you took the order you saw the gloved fingers back at their previous activity.

A chai latte and a blueberry banana muffin later, you were in front of blue eyes again.

“I changed my mind. Do you have turnovers?” he asked.

“Made this afternoon. Apple, cranberry and walnuts.” you replied with a smile.

“I’ll take twelve of those.” he said, eyeing you expectantly. “To go, please.”

“I’m sorry. Twelve?” you exclaimed, baffled.

“Sweet tooth.” he explained with a shrug. “Thank you for the talk. It helped a lot!” 

You nodded, taking the money he owed you and feeling very confused about the whole exchange.

“Do come back!” you called after him when he was a few stools away from you.

“If these taste as good as they smell, you bet I will!” he replied with a smirk, lifting the bag with the turnovers.

After he left, the older gentleman paid for his cake and drink and left as well, but not before winking at you and fake whispering “If you don’t pounce on that hunk the next time, I will!”.

As he disappeared from sight, the man sitting closer to the door got up and locked it.

“Finally alone.” he declared in a heavy accent. “So, no useful intel from this first contact?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” you replied patiently. “Do not rush me. I haven’t been busting my ass here for the past six months for you to just show up and undermine my entire operation.”

“They sent me. They want a report.” he told you. “Do not shoot the messenger.”

His chuckling was grating, and much like your shift, your patience with him was coming to an end.

“I have to lock up. Pay up and make your way out. Please.” 

“I’ll be around. Don’t look at me like that! Orders!” he barked at you upon seeing your scowl. “I’m redundancy!”

“Fine!” you said through your teeth. “Now leave. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Hail Hydra!” he whispered, not waiting for you to reciprocate. Spinning on his heels he left hurriedly.

“Yeah, yeah.” you grumbled.

So now you had a guard dog to watch your every step. Now, that he had finally entered the café. 

You had a bad feeling about that. 

Whatever you were expecting from Sargent James B. Barnes, former Hydra operative known as Winter Soldier, was not what you found.

Bringing him back in would be a task much more complicated than you had anticipated.

Two blocks away.

“Seriously? No coffee for me?” Sam asked outraged, rubbing his hands together while eyeing the bag in Bucky’s hand while he was still getting into the car. “So, what’s she like?”

“She’s been very well trained.” Bucky replied, his lips pursing in the familiar way that told Sam he wasn’t telling the whole story.

“Spit it out tinman, it’ll do you good.” he said,  while gesturing to the bag which Bucky still clutched.

“I think I trained her.” he confessed, handing an agape Sam the bag. “Close your mouth bird boy.” Bucky continued, serious.

“You mean the soldier trained her.” Sam replied, already expecting the old-timer to talk back.

“What’s the difference?” he countered, morose. “Back in Siberia I may have spent most of the time as the Soldier, but there were moments of consciousness.” 

Sam chose not to reply. The bitterness was still there, despite all the work with Shuri. 

He was beginning to regret accepting a Hydra linked mission from Hill, so soon after Bucky got his head back in shape. It would be devastating to watch the organization take all that progress away from him; to watch him be a prisoner of his own mind again.

“Those moments weren’t enough for Sargent Barnes to train anyone.” Sam told him, opening the bag, taking a turnover with a napkin and humming in appreciation before continuing. “She’ll be waiting for the Soldier, you’ll show her Bucky.”

Bucky looked at him baffled at his speech, and shook his head at the sizable bite he took out of the pastry.

“Steve was so much better at pep talks than you are.”

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

[barnesandco]

Ayesha’s 1k+ Writing Challenge!

Writing Challenge Submission Masterlist

Hey, everyone, I'm so happy to be back online - I think I was only gone for a week so that announcement was very extra of me - and to be introducing my first writing challenge! I'm so honored and flattered that so many people enjoy my work, and I'm incredibly grateful for your support since I joined this community. Tumblr is my greatest escape, and you've made it a very welcome and comforting one. 

A sense of community and friendship is particularly important in these trying times, and I extend my heartfelt prayers to everyone struggling right now. I'm here to listen if there's anything you need to say, and I'm sorry I can't do much more than be a metaphorical shoulder to cry on, and to offer this distraction as a brief reprieve from whatever you might be going through.

In order to present a gift of relief, and to share and create more stories of heroism - not that any of it can ever compare to the courage displayed by our health professionals and essential workers these days - and to honor and promote our collective of Marvel fanfic writers, I've decided to host a writing challenge. You don't have to follow me to participate - although that would be appreciated - you just need to follow the rules I've outlined under the cut. If you need clarification on anything, don't hesitate to ask! I hope you'll join, and I look forward to seeing what everyone comes up with. 

Rules:

Your fic can be about any character(s) from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. You can also include original characters that you create. If you want to write a romantic fic, I think it goes without saying that it shouldn't be underage (or having an excessive age gap), non/dub-con, incest, abuse, power imbalance/manipulation (e.g. employer x employee or teacher x student), etc. 

The sky’s the limit when it comes to the type or genre of the story, so let your imagination fly! You can write reader-inserts, pairings of pre-existing characters, OCs, or even just solo fics about the character you've chosen. I'm open to canon fics, AUs, fluff, smut, angst, romance, platonic fics, and whatever else you guys can dream up. (If you're writing smut, please let me know, as there are some additional guidelines I'm setting for that.) 

Word count is minimum 250 words, and anything above 500 words must have a keep reading tab. Multi-chapter fics will obviously be accepted - and with a lot of enthusiasm! - but please make a masterlist for any such series.

Kindly include any and all warnings that apply to your story.

The deadline for submission is the 31st of December, 2020.

Please tag me @barnesandco​ in the completed fic - and in every chapter of a series if you've chosen to write one - and also tag your work with #ayesha1kwritingchallenge. If I don't acknowledge that I’ve seen your work within a week of you posting it, please DM me.

One entry is allowed per participant, and you can send in an ask or a DM to participate, in which you should mention the one prompt you would like to use and for which character(s) from the list below.

Prompts

Dialogue Prompts:

"You fell asleep on me." --Taken by @lancsnerd

"Screw you." --Taken by @need-a-fugue

"I've got this." --Taken by @filia-sapientiae​

"I'd never forgive myself for it." --Taken by @oreostars​

"I trust you." --Taken by @readerandcinephileingeneral

"Oh, I'm so offended." --Taken by @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​

"Who, me? I would never." --Taken by @kaunis-sielu

"I don’t want to hate her/him/them." --Taken by @suz-123

"I can't explain it, but loving her is just… easy." --Taken by @littledarlinwrites

"You're my everything." --Taken by @chrisevansdaddycap​

"Leave me alone." --Taken by @constantaking​

"That's disgusting." --Taken by @ruffalomakesmyday​

"What on God's green earth was that for?" --Taken by @sweetwritesx​

"Is that a threat?" --Taken by @glxy-otter​

"Promise. Please just- promise me." --Taken by @blue-like-barnes​

"Oh, I could kiss you right now, you brilliant, brilliant woman/man/person!" --Taken by @megthemewlingquim

"You know that'll never work on me." --Taken by @allaboardthereadingrailroad​

"I'd let you if you asked." --Taken by @wordywarriorwrites

"___, I swear to God, if you do that again, I'll feed you to Tony's stupid robot." --Taken by @nekoannie-chan

"You can't do this." + "Then I'll die trying."

"You're stronger than anyone I've ever known." --Taken by @companionjones

"How did I get here?" --Taken by @thestorydetective​

"Why are you smiling this wide this early in the morning?" --Taken by @tinymalscoffee​

"What's the worst that could happen?" --Taken by @phant0m-queen​

"I can't believe they haven't caught us yet." --Taken by @indyluckycharlie​

Song Prompts:

Watermelon Sugar - Harry Styles --Taken by @softpeachbarnes​

Finally//Beautiful Stranger - Halsey --Taken by @shield-agent78​

To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra --Taken by @whistlingwillows​

Floating - Alina Baraz ft. Khalid --Taken by @chuuulip​

Summertime - Ella Fitzgerald

Wind Beneath My Wings - Bette Midler

To Die For - Sam Smith --Taken by @hailhydra920​

I Scare Myself - Beth Crowley

Speechless - Dan + Shay --Taken by @captain-kelli​

Growing Pains - Alessia Cara

Levitating - Dua Lipa --Taken by @samingtonwilson​​

Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers --Taken by @mermaidxatxheart​

Human - Christina Perri

10 000 Hours - Ella Mai

Despacito - Luis Fonsi ft. Daddy Yankee

Let's Do It - Ella Fitzgerald --Taken by @smediumsmeatbae​

Honey - Raveena --Taken by @opalsandlace

Talk Too Much - COIN --Taken by @subtlebucky​

Put a Little Love on Me - Niall Horan --Taken by @buckysbest​

Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran

Meet Me on the Battlefield - SVRCINA

Centuries - Fall Out Boy

Titanium - David Guetta ft. Sia

Stay - Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko --Taken by @jalapenobarnes-main​

Eyes Open - Taylor Swift --Taken by @helahades​

One-Line Prompts:

Recovery is tender, straining yellow-blue over his/her/their shoulders and delicate in the shadow of his/her/their smile. --Taken by @iced-capsicle

Laughter tastes like cotton candy. --Taken by @rogersumbra

" All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages." -As You Like It, William Shakespeare --Taken by @shakespeareanqueer​

How do you miss something you never had? --Taken by @shellbilee​

They're stuck, and it's all ___'s fault. --Taken by @buckybarney​

Gabe Jones' French skills come to good use. --Taken by @raindroptv​

Self-discovery is a path nobody likes taking, but sometimes, there is no other choice.

"Demons run when a good man goes to war." - Doctor Who, Steven Moffat --Taken by @harley-sunday​

Star-crossed lovers find a galaxy to take refuge in from the rest of the universe. --Taken by @sgtjbuccky​

The Second Law of Thermodynamics states that everything goes from order to disorder. --Taken by @alyxkbrl​​

One-Word Prompts:

Sacrilege

Bibliophile --Taken by @nacho-bucky​

Soldier --Taken by @writing-mermaid​

Chrysanthemum(s)

Schadenfreude

Deja Vu

Picasso

Self-Partnered

Petrichor --Taken by @redhairedfeistynerd​​

Serendipity --Taken by @xoxoeeveewritez​​

Momentum

Equilibrium

Entropy

Resplendent

Anemone(s)

Effervescence

Sweetheart

Absolute

Echo --Taken by @wintersoeldiers​​

Nefarious

Picture prompts:

1. Taken by @infj-slytherclaw​

2. Taken by @starrysebastians​

3. 

4. 

5. Taken by @corneliabarnes​

6. 

7. Taken by @bucky-smiles​

8. Taken by @monarchofallisurvey​

9. 

Special thanks to the following authors, who not only inspired and initiated my desire to write, but then encouraged me, supported my work, and were - and still are - tremendously helpful. Others in the following list I befriended later on, and I'm so grateful that I did, because they've helped transform my experience on this site, too. Point is, all of these people are so kind and amazing and marvellous beyond what words can describe. Thank you:

@samingtonwilson @suz-123 @nacho-bucky @evanstarff @tropicalcap @kentuckybarnes @buckyreaderrecs @mermaidxatxheart @corneliabarnes @buckyland​ @bucky-smiles​ @sebbytrash​ @jalapenobarnes​

And thank you of course to my wonderful, magical followers who comment and reblog my stories, and give me all the praise I do not deserve. Thank you for your kindness and your enthusiasm - I cherish it and do everything I can to earn it. Special mentions:

@readerandcinephileingeneral​ @notsomellowmushroom​ @sonjashuterbugjohnson​ @anjali750​ @severelytinyeagle​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @parmisaanowl @starnight-charmer​ @alyxkbrl​

I'd like to conclude by saying that I debated whether or not to host this writing challenge now, in a time like this. I decided to do so in the end because I need it. Call me selfish, but I need a reprieve. I need to feel like this disaster that has us surrounded right now isn't all there is to the world. And if I've learnt anything from being on this platform, it's that you're very rarely alone. So I hope that this activity can provide some semblance of hope for others that feel the way I do, and if not, then at least a little escape.

So my last but not least thank you goes to everyone who participates in this challenge and thereby makes this shelter from the world's storm, a little stronger, a little safer, and a little warmer. 

I’m excited to see what everyone comes up with, and I look forward to making some new friends. Thank you all and good luck!

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #marvel #avengers #mcu #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #fanfiction #writing

[need-a-fugue]

And Barista Makes Three

Summary: It was suppose to be fun… something new and exciting that you and Bucky could do together. But there is such a thing as too many cooks in one kitchen…

Author’s Note: Written for Ayesha’s 1K Writing Challenge with the dialogue prompt, Screw you. Thanks @browngirlmagic​ for letting me play with this prompt!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: References to sexy times, no actual smut, though (sorry).

Word Count: 2,500ish

The bickering has officially gotten out of control, snotty remarks and vicious glares now giving way to an out-and-out shouting match in the common room.

Not cool. Off-days at the compound are typically pretty chill… death-defying missions, intensive training sessions, and hours-long debriefs being enough to suck the life out of all of you until your only remaining desire is for peace and quiet. Especially at breakfast time… especially pre-coffee.

But calm is simply not on the menu today. Not when Bucky waltzes in – still gross and sweaty from his morning run – and declares – with the petulant air of a spoiled-rotten child – that he doesn’t want any of the eggs you’ve so kindly prepared for him.

Your face twists, lips pinch. That smoldering fire in your gut blazing back to life yet again as you shriek, “Why the hell did I bother making them, then?!” before tossing the half-full pan into the sink.

Sam bristles at the sheer decibel of your voice, his own a mere whisper in comparison when he sets down his coffee and announces, “I would’ve eaten them.”

Gradually, other teammates filter into the common room – as Bucky growls out a bitter retort and you angrily grab the pan and repeatedly slam it into the sink – just to see what all the fuss is about.

Steve lingers in the doorway and lets out giant huff, fisted hands falling to his hips as he shakes his head in disappointment. “What the hell has gotten into you two?” he asks, a hint of concern bleeding through the frustration. “One minute you’re all…” He makes an awkward, waving motion with his hands, almost wincing when he says, “can’t keep your hands off each other…”

“It’s really pretty gross,” Natasha interjects as she rounds the counter in search of coffee.

Steve’s brows shoot high as if to say, uh, yeah, before he finishes with, “Now it’s like you’re leading separate forces into World War III.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. Leave it to the Captain to turn your little lovers’ quarrel into a battle metaphor. “He’s being a dick,” you announce with a sharp lilt, dropping the pan for a final time and spinning to stare Bucky down. You fold your arms tightly across your chest, lean your hip into the side of the sink, and glower at the man. “That’s what’s gotten into us.”

Bucky’s face cracks into a smug sneer. And he laughs – a short, sardonic chuckle that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. “That is not what got into us, sweetheart.”

You shoot him an icy glare, voice low and dangerous as you emit through tightly gritted teeth, “You can’t keep making out like this is all my fault. You agreed to it.”

His steely countenance shifts, eyes widening and jaw falling slack, expression cloaked in utter disbelief. “Because you said you wanted to. You fucking told me it would count as your birthday present.”

Steve takes two large strides into the room, impatience sloughing off of him in waves. “What is going on?” he laments thickly. “Seriously!”

You turn to him, tense hands falling to your hips in an agitated posture that mirrors his own. And you spill. “We had a three-way with the girl from the coffee shop and now he’s all…” You wave a dismissive hand in Bucky’s general direction, “pissed about it.”

Silence. Pure, deep, penetrating silence rings throughout the room.

Steve blinks – once, twice – as he tries to process your words. “I’m sorry,” he stutters out finally. “What?”

Bucky sighs, long and languid, before twisting towards you, his face an odd mix of solemn reproach and barely contained amusement. “Who’s the one person I said could never know about this?”

You snort out a laugh – a quick, inadvertent sputter of absolute delight – and keep Steve’s gaping expression in your line of sight as you lean into Bucky and ask, “Is he having a stroke?”

Sam jumps up then, shoving his stool away from the breakfast bar with a piercing scrape along the hardwood floor. He waves a hand distractedly through the air, waits for you to turn, and then – brow deeply furrowed – he mutters simply, “Wait. You had a threesome?”

In tandem, you and Bucky both offer matching slow nods.

Natasha slinks forward, sly smile on her face barely hidden by the mug of hot coffee that she delicately brings to her lips. A slow sip as she stands by your side, staring you down assessingly. “The blonde?” she inquires with a lilt.

You turn to face her, give another nod. “Yeah… the blonde. Sarah… something.”

One corner of her lips quirk higher, pure amusement lighting her eyes. “The one who’s always coming on to you,” she mutters, raising a single brow high. There’s no question in her voice. Doesn’t need to be.

Before you can say a word, Bucky barks from behind, “Exactly,” and lets out an irritated huff. “I don’t even know why I was there.”

You spin round on a heel, your face mere inches from his as you hiss out, “Oh, screw you.”

“That’s all I was hoping for, sweetheart,” he says with a too calm affectation. He reaches around you to grab a mug of coffee for himself, his piercing blue eyes never leaving yours. “But you went and made it weird.”

“Weird?” Sam scoffs, brow still furrowed, eyes now narrowed. “Man, I’ve see that chick. She is hot. You were in bed – naked – with two damn hot women. And it was weird?”

He shakes his head, nose crinkled in something akin to disgust. His gaze veers pensively away as he takes a sip of coffee, words flowing languidly out of him as though prudently narrating the memory playing in his mind’s eye. “It was a just a bunch of… arms and legs…”

Natasha gnaws at the corner of her lip, voice barely above a whisper when she bites out from over your shoulder, “Don’t think you were doing it right.”

His gaze ices over as he turns on her, glaring daggers. But she simply wiggles her eyebrows in response, her attention only returning to the rest of the group when Sam lets out a low whistle and a rather wistful, “Hot arms and legs.”

“You don’t get it,” Bucky snarls, jaw ticking as he drops his mug to the counter with a thunk and leans forward heatedly. “It’s not hot to watch your girlfriend get… get… plowed by someone else.”

An annoyed groan bubbles out of you. “You’re being dramatic,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. “She was totally into you.”

“She didn’t even know I was there,” he responds, tone low and subdued as he turns back to face you, the heat from his still-sweating body pooling in the small space between the two of you.

“How could she not know you were there?” you ask, raising a teasing brow, hoping to crack his sour expression. “Your penis was inside of her.”

Steve lets out an audible gasp, air pulling in between his tightly gritted teeth with a horrified whistle.

“I was never inside of her,” Bucky announces, ignoring his friend’s reaction and keeping his stare trained on you.

“Well, why the hell not?!” you ask, voice rising in both volume and pitch. You give him a little shove back, a mostly playful pop to his chest with the heel of your hand. “I picked her because you obviously have a thing for her.”

His brows twist in absolute confoundment as he stares unblinkingly at you. “What?”

“You’re always staring at her when we go get coffee… watching her,” you try, shoulders rising in a short, baffled shrug.

“I’m always keeping one eye on her because it’s obvious she’s after my girl.”

The fire in your core flares, burning up your neck and heating your cheeks in an angry flush. “If you really think that, then… then… why did you agree to do it?!”

He pulls away, taking a single large step back to widen the distance between you. “Because you wanted to,” he spits out, face twisting into an incredulous snarl. “You said it’d be fun. You… you…”

You stare at him, both brows raised, waiting for him to stop sputtering and finish his thought.

But all you get is, “You know what? Screw you.”

“Very mature,” you snipe, rolling your eyes yet again.

“Mature?!” His hands fly up into the air, exasperation peppering the wild movement. “You just… cheated on me. In my own bed. With me in it!”

“Wait a minute,” Sam says suddenly, tone painfully serious. “This happened here? In this compound? With hot coffee blonde? When? Where was I?”

You ignore his vapid inquiries, the heat between you and Bucky too consuming to allow your attention to be pulled away from the argument at hand. “That’s not what happened, and you know it.” You watch as his angry expression cracks, just a bit. “I did this for you,” you say, tone almost pleading. “Because I thought you’d like it. Because you were so… bored.”

He pulls back, face pinching tightly. “Bored? What the hell are you talking about?”

A short breath catches in your chest, candid – aching – words spilling out like stinging bile the moment you release it. “You used to be all over me… every minute of the day.” You pause just long enough to choke back a thick swell of emotion, the earnest depths of his gentle, too-blue eyes drowning you in all the care and concern swimming within them. “When… when was the last time we fucked in a supply closet?” you ask, tone tender and imploring. “Or on the elevator?”

“Whoa,” Steve blurts out. “What?!”

Natasha merely shakes her head dolefully as she continues to loom over your shoulder, idly sipping her coffee. “I really need to get into the security footage around here.”

But you couldn’t care less about the others in the room, nor their reactions. Not when Bucky steps close and pulls your hands into his grip. His head gives a small, hesitant shake and he locks onto your eyes. “Baby, I’m not bored. I just… we don’t need to do that shit anymore. We’re not still sneaking around.”

You drop your gaze, glance down at the large hands – one warm flesh, one cool metal – tenderly encasing yours. “I just… I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up into a cocky, crooked grin. “And you thought that you could prevent that by bringing in someone else for me to fuck?”

You shrug, still not looking up. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Man,” Sam breathes out from behind. “Where are you two getting your tips on how to spice up a relationship? Penthouse?”

You roll your eyes, tossing the Falcon a quick glare before – finally – looking back up at Bucky. “Fine. It was a bad idea. And an… awkward night.” You let out a sigh and slip from his grip, leaning heavily back into the counter before grumbling, “And, yes, there were too many… limbs and… appendages in the bed. And… and…” You shake your head absently, throwing your hands flippantly into the air. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t really know what I was grabbing… or who. I’m pretty sure I spent five minutes cupping my own boob.”

“No, that was me,” Bucky corrects quickly, just before a look of confusion washes over his face. “Unless that wasn’t your boob…”

You pull in a deep, settling breath, release it as an almost nervous chuckle. “Yeah, okay. Bad idea.”

“We only have a queen-sized bed,” he mutters, brows pitching high as his gaze trails off into space. “I don’t know what made you think there’d even be enough room for the three of us. I spent half the night with one foot on the floor.”

“She kept pulling my hair,” you lament lamely as you reach up to idly rub your still-sore scalp.

“No, that was me too,” he says with a shake of his head. “Didn’t mean to, but I was falling off the damn bed and you were the closest thing to grab hold of.”

“And there was so much… sweat,” you mutter with a disgusted lilt, looking up and connecting with Bucky’s far-off gaze, the two of you sharing a wholly commiserate slow nod. “Like a whole ‘nother body’s worth of sweat.”

“Yeah, why do you think I kept slipping.” He shrugs. “That, and I kept catching elbows from the barista any time I got too close.”

You snort out a laugh and curl into yourself – into him – an errant apology brewing in your chest, choking out of you in a pitiful grunt that only Bucky could possibly comprehend. “She said she was into it… into you.”

He lays his metal hand atop yours as it sits on the counter, twines your fingers together and gives a subtle squeeze. “Baby, that girl only had eyes for you.” Another shrug. “Not that I can blame her.”

“Okay, enough,” Steve says finally, his rather appalled demeanor giving way to an irritated expression and an utterly exasperated tone. “I’m sorry I ever asked. I didn’t want to know about… any of this. So why don’t you two just… go away, finish… making up… and let the rest of us figure out a way to scrub our brains clean?”

Just then Tony glides into the common room, “Scrub our brains clean of what?” falling casually from his lips as he heads for the kitchenette. He sidesteps Steve and reaches out to grab an apple from the counter, taking a giant bite before asking, mouth full and juicy, “What are we all talking about?”

Natasha sighs lightly, taking a final drink of coffee before setting her mug into the sink without so much as a clink. “The two love birds here had a three-way with the cute blonde from the coffee shop around the corner,” she recounts. “Only it turned out to be more of a… two-way with Barnes left on the outside looking in.”

Tony spins around towards Bucky, face an oddly expressionless mask. “Still worth the view, though?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

“Hm.” He takes another bite of apple before glancing over at Steve, swallows thickly and inquires, with a single brow raised high, “Take it the old man is none too pleased about your sexual escapades?”

Bucky shrugs and distractedly gives your hand another small squeeze. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“So I shouldn’t pull the footage from the south elevator to show at this year’s Christmas party?”

“Not if you want to make it to New Year’s.”

“Cute. Threats. Real nice.” Tony snickers under his breath, grabs another apple for the road, and turns to leave. “Don’t worry, Cap,” he says, stopping to pat Steve on the shoulder on his way out. “I’ve had all the communal spaces they’ve communed on thoroughly sanitized.” He tosses a quick glance back at you and Bucky, mutters, “Repeatedly,” with a raised brow, and sashays away.

Sam shakes his head impassively, beguiling twinkle bursting in his eye as he watches Steve recoil with a thick, disturbed sigh before he too turns and flees the room. “We’re living in a den of depravity,” the delighted Falcon breathes out, looking to you and offering a sly wink. “And, damn it… I like it.”

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #avengers fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader

[daredevile]

A Second Here Another Gone

Summary: Blinded by the sweet raptures of a new relationship, Bucky lowers his guard around you - unaware of the real reason you found him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, bit of violence and one swear word

A/N: Hey! I know it’s been over two months since I posted something and I’m sorry! I was working on so many oneshots and never finished one until now. But, I promise I will try to update somewhat regularly from now on! Anyway, this one’s for Ayesha’s [ @browngirlmagic ​] writing challenge and my prompt was ‘Echo’. Please reblog if you like it! :)

An angry crimson. A so-called scarlet elixir of the living trickles from its hearth beneath as if screaming a symbol of horror and impending doom. It surrenders with grace and elegance - a droplet of fresh blood tainting pristine white floors, smearing the Parthenon of life and death with an intensity of wrath and violence and -

"Hey." The sombre tone in his voice draws you into his weary stature. It looks worse than he'd assured over the phone. Raging clusters of purple and blue spread across his arms, broken lip, black eye, his jaw cast a scarlet tint. Not to mention the slight limp he'd tried masking from your stares.

"Thanks for coming so fast. Would've driven myself but..." He motions to the cast around his right arm, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. A nurse approaches him with a sympathetic expression, repeating a list of instructions and medication requirements for a quick recovery. Though you know Bucky's not following a word she's saying - she must've realised it too - giving you a moment for any questions before returning to her station.

The conversation in the car is non-existent, only a couple of instinctive glances towards the rear-view mirror to gauge each other's emotions. Soft tunes twirl in the background, Bucky lowers the volume with a grunt as his muscles sting with the movement. A sigh escapes from his lips, he angles himself towards your concentrated form but, you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Y'know it's not as bad as it looks. Should've seen the other guy." He says with a constrained laugh. An honest attempt to relieve the tensed wind and the crease between your eyebrows, alas, it fails its purpose. He sinks back into the cushioned seat, lingering his eyes over the neon streaks of passing vehicles.

The road seems never-ending, both sides merely converging at a distant imaginary point ahead. The traffic dissolves and scatters into several busy paths as Bucky directs you through far too many left and right turns before arriving at a rather calm and vacant neighbourhood.

Once the engines lull back into a soft purr, you open the passenger door and gently grasp his arms as he lifts himself from the seat. He releases a breath in relief, thankful your silence is replaced by concern. The two flights of stairs is another journey on its own, exchanging mumbles of apologies and groans, even the close proximity of him curves past your thoughts.

Bucky stumbles into his apartment, careful to avoid the loose floorboard right at the entrance - pushing a horrible reminder to the back of his mind - and you follow his footing. A chuckle from him pulls your attention, determined he's capable on his own, he leans away from your hold, mentioning something about taking a shower before retreating into the furthest room.

His house is spotless, every single object kept in a place for swift and efficient access. Somehow he'd made a rather confined area appear more spacious. You notice how foreign and hostile he maintained his home - a supposed personal bubble. His belongings danced around the hazy line between bare essentials and other items. Almost as if he was caught in the process of moving in or ready to move out within a matter of minutes.

A sharp buzz from your phone stops you from observing the rest of the apartment. Without sparing a glimpse at the caller, you swipe the green button. An instant thrust of shouting greets you, attacking your senses with great vigour. And it's patience, you've learned, an offensive strategy to appease the monster into a human you could better tolerate.

"I need time." It's not forceful, however, lacking a timbre of the usual intensity your words uphold. The shouting continues, each syllable seething with fury, demanding more answers while your fist clenches at the vulgar threats he hurls from the other end.

"I need more time."

There's dead silence on both ends. And for a second, you believe that he's accepted the command. As fast as it'd ignited, the little spark of surprise disintegrates when his deep laughter is all that's pounding in your ears.

"You're here!" Bucky says, grinning as he spots you in the balcony, "Thought you left me alone."

His sudden appearance turns your blood cold and you can feel the precise second your heart trips over a beat, shoving the phone back into your pocket. His smile drops, immediately regretting how he entered as soon as he saw the pained expression written all over your features. He sighs when your eyes witness the red wounds and scars - some more jarring than others - scattered across his body.

"Look, I know this isn't a good impression. I don't want you to see me like this, trust me, I wouldn't have called if I had - " A pause. Hesitant as he swallows back the words. "Anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Bucky. This is all just... difficult." He nods, fumbling with the loose bandage tied to his other arm. A smile tugs on your lips at his frustration, you grab the free end and wrap it securely around the wound.

"Could you maybe stay? I mean... if you want to." He struggles to suppress a grin when you look up at his eyes. It's hope that lingers behind them.

"Of course."

But the side where you slept is cold and empty when he wakes up.

---

O N E  W E E K  E A R L I E R

The restaurant was crowded, located right at the heart of the city, overlooking several busy streets that seemed to sink under all the hustle and bustle. The world appeared an innocent umber through the dark hue of your sunglasses, shielding yourself from unwanted enemies. Or so you thought.

Time. Time was precious and no amount of glancing at your watch appeared to have quickened the circular orbit of the dials. But this time, you were unsure - caught between the dichotomous chasm of want and need - a feeling that unsettled you to the core.

"Hope you don't mind, darling." A deep voice came from behind, the drinks spilt over the glasses as he slammed his hand on the table. The elderly couple sitting to your left flinched at his abrupt action. A fake smile was enough to have satisfied them, he returned to face your blank expression.

"So tell me, does it usually take this long or are you fucking him?" It was almost a growl that promptly simmered to a smirk when a waitress passed by, unaware of the evil she'd encountered.

"He'll figure it out, I'm being careful." You said, oblivious to the scorching hot liquid piercing your taste buds. Any shard of fun and pleasure that had emerged from his features earlier crumbled at that very second, he leaned closer and you saw the strain on his face when his jaw clenched. Rumlow was not one to adjust and compensate. You learned that the hard way.

"Listen l/n, I saved you from Volkov 'cause you'd be useful someday. And now you owe me. Gave you a week to do the job, it's been two and I still got nothing. And you know I don't like waiting. Get me the information and finish him or should I remind you what's at stake here."

His voice was dangerously low as if cautious of people overhearing but, you knew it would take mere seconds for the scene to resemble a massacre. Yet, he was right. Your past record highlighted the speed and efficiency of completing assignments - just one hit then delivered to the client and you walked away richer. No hesitation. Unfortunately, this time it was Bucky who had a price on his head and had obtained confidential information.

A folder was thrown at your direction, containing photographs of innocents at different viewpoints through what was unmistakably sniper scopes. Rumlow mimicked the sound of a gun cocking before standing up. He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing while he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and walked into the sea of people. His last words were all that you breathed.

Barnes or your family.

---

Bucky sidesteps the soldier-like stance of a grumpy looking man, clearing his throat to alleviate the embarrassment of breaking under his penetrating stare. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, Bucky ignores the annoyed tsk that's clearly targetted at him. On any other occasion, a meaningless interaction with strangers would've flown over his head. But, today he's confused. Scared, even.

Less than two weeks ago, he'd encountered and been drawn to an enigma. Strong yet intricately pieced together. Delicate yet resilient. He just couldn't figure it out. After all, he thought everything became normal once he'd spoken and apologised last night. Expecting to be woken up by sunshine and ruffled sheets from a good sleep and you sleeping soundly, but you were gone without a word - and he just doesn't understand.

And now, here he is, shuffling through busy routes to follow a briskly walking figure who's intrigued him for half an hour. They seem to have no destination, simply taking sharp turns and descending into valleys of crowds and streetside markets. In a hurry, Bucky thinks. He picks up his pace, there seem to be fewer people in this area. It's darker and easily hidden between the lanes of houses.

He turns the corner and realises there are no other paths. A dead-end. The figure spins around, eyes flitting around the narrow path. He panics and begins to retreat, but the all-too-familiar cock of the gun stills his movements. Nothing. No moment in his entire life scared him more than the person standing a few steps away -

It's you.

He freezes when your finger curls around the trigger and the innocence in your eyes dissolve. Every single instinct in his body is telling him to run. But he can't. He wants to know more, to know why. And he realises you're thinking the same when your hand begins to tremble.

"Whose orders?"

It's a tone he's never heard before. Cold and detached. A machine programmed to do one's bidding with no second thoughts. He raises both hands, swallowing the agonising feeling latching onto his throat as your grip tightens.

"Don't lie to me, Barnes. Who ordered you to kill me?"

There's no choice. His heart is clawing the insides of his chest, waiting to be free. A whisper is all it takes to conquer your feelings.

"Volkov."

Bucky knows the moment his name is released into the strangling air between you, the gun falters. He sees the rapid and minute shift of your eyes, composing all the information together until -

Your voice staggers, pleading almost. "They have my family, Bucky. He'll kill them if you don't tell me where Volkov is. Rumlow - "

Bucky stops listening. Rumlow, a name he'd left behind, buried within the depths of conscience along with Hydra. He understands your assignment, a simple extract and kill. What Volkov had promised in exchange for your life - Steve's whereabouts - seemed too good to be true, maybe a possible reality in a utopian world. But, this is his life and it's not paradise. He takes a few steps until his hands hover over your gun, angling it towards his heart.

"Then save them."

He whispers the location and you try to zone out, lose control so you don't hear his words. It's too late, two snipers emerge from buildings on command, both taking positions on either side of where you're standing. The chill that runs down Bucky's spine doesn't go unnoticed as he spots the red skull badge on their sleeves. Rumlow knew you wouldn't kill him.

Bucky nudges your chin with the tips of his fingers, reaching into his jacket, he slips his gun into your hands. No words are spoken but you know what has to be done.

Taking a much-needed breath, you pull the trigger at him, not witnessing the wine coloured liquid spreading across his chest instead, taking cover before shooting one of the snipers lurking near a thin pillar. The other one begins firing near the car you are ducking behind. You sprint into his blind spot and kill him with a shot to his head.

Without wasting another second, you spot Bucky clutching his chest in pain. It takes a frozen second for you to dial 911, shaking with dread before Rumlow sends any more of his men and the chances of Bucky surviving vanish. A concerned voice replies to your incohesive string of words, you're barely making sense, the nurse ends the call ensuring 'they're on the way'. Bucky grabs your hand amongst the turmoil, light-headed and pale from the blood seeping through his clothes.

"This isn't goodbye."

And you run.

---

E I G H T  M O N T H S  L A T E R

Even after weeks of desperately searching for him, he was nowhere to be found. You'd gone back to the hospital, the nurse gave you a distressed glance, saying he hadn't mentioned anywhere in particular. That he was gone once discharged.

You didn't give up though - he'd sacrificed himself for your family in a sheer heartbeat. Bucky was the wind to your storm - a second here another gone. He was mysterious beneath the layers of kindness and affection, tender yet deep like the lyrics of a love song - words you've yet to discover, only hoping you weren't wrong.

A few of your old confidantes were able to carry out under-the-ground operations in exchange for Bucky's location: Edinburgh.

Under the chilly winter winds, you walk along the snow-freckled pavement. Sitting at a dark wooden bench inspecting calming patterns of skate lines etched across the river's icy surface, puffs of crisp air revealing themselves as you sigh.

"I was right."

His voice beckons a long-awaited smile on your face. Sharp blue eyes gazing at a few younger skaters wobbling while they glide along. You begin to stammer out an apology, but he shakes his head, still not meeting your eyes.

"You had no choice."

"Did you find him?" You ask eagerly as he takes a seat next to you.

"Pulled a few strings with some old contacts." Bucky turns to face you, a genuine smile he hadn't felt in ages tugs his lips. He takes your gloved hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours with a dazed look washing over his features.

"He's here."

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky fluff #winter soldier #marvel #mcu

[buckysbest]

Put a Little Love on Me paring: Bucky Barnes x reader warnings: cute fluffiness, mentions of mental struggles, love, marriage? summary: Bucky recounts his experiences before making a life changing decision word count: <1k a/n: this is a little thing for @browngirlmagic ‘s 1k writing challenge!! Make sure to check her out if you don’t already follow her and wish her congrats on 1k! The prompt was Put a little love on me -Niall Horan and this was just the vibe I got from it! I hope you guys enjoy and I love y’all!

Throughout her entire life, Y/N has faced love in every form it exists. 

Beginning at the moment she entered this world, it was cast upon her by the adoring gaze of her father as he held his new baby girl in his trembling arms. This continued when she was growing up in the quaint town house she called home. Every year, her dad would make her a handmade birthday card despite not being very artistic because they brought a smile to her face. When she had a bad day, her mom knew listening to Ella Fitzgerald over Mac and Cheese was the cure for her broken heart. Every moment in between was filled with parental admiration through her entire childhood. 

Love took form in the exchanges she had with the friends that entered her life. Her 2nd grade best friend Madison Miller made her a friendship bracelet for her 8th birthday and in high school, friends helped her get over rejection letters from her dream schools through daily deliveries of delicious baked goods and notes written in her favorite color. 

More recently, love found its form in the self defense classes her friend Natasha insisted on giving because she was worried about her. It found its form in the late nights to the theater Wanda and her embarked on, even if they didn't want to see the movie. It surrounded her when Steve delivered her favorite coffee every morning and Tony apologized for breaking her favorite mug with 10 new ones. 

Love overflowed from her heart and spilled out into every movement she took, which is partly what gathered the attention of James Buchanan Barnes.

He had never felt love the way she had. Even with a fairly normal childhood in NYC, his parents weren’t like hers. Affection didn’t run freely though his family like it did with hers. He had found friendship in the form of Steve Rogers but Hydra had stolen that from him and his soul became immersed in a murky depth he fought constantly to escape. Reconnecting with Steve gave him enough light to guide him through the walls of demons that engulfed him, but it wasn't until he met Y/N that the light began to grow. With each kind word, gentle touch, and caring glance his heart opened more and more. She showed compassion through his worst nights with silence and a shoulder to cry on, she emitted passion for each milestone he tried to achieve in his recovery and pride when he conquered them. She showered him with love in every word that left her gorgeous lips and he was convinced she was nothing less than divine intervention, a savior, the reincarnation of tenderness and warmth. He had tried to sabotage the progress she helped him make with everything he could muster but with each rock he threw, she held him tighter. She saw him and the love he held beneath the shadows that tormented his heart.

When he began to open up to her, a new love entered her life for the first time. It came in the form of his stolen glances and his late night, heart-wrenching confessions. It then revealed itself in the gentle kisses, passionate nights, and lazy mornings. She returned it effortlessly and it wasn't long before love consumed his heart, as it had hers. His heart expanded when they danced to his favorite record in the moonlight, when she made his favorite breakfast for his birthday, and when she beared the weight of his baggage on her shoulders to allow him some relief. 

That's why as his hands ran over the velvet box in his pocket, his heart pounded harder than it ever had. As he watched her recline onto the yellow picnic blanket she had picked out for him because “it reminded her of his smile” and he watched her release butterflies into his stomach with each laugh that sounded from her lungs, his heart collapsed at the sight. Unable to contain the love that he held for her any longer, the flood gates opened and a tear fell from his eye, immediately catching the attention of the angel that sat before him. Her hand instantly found the side of his face, holding it gently and wiping the tear away with her pad of her thumb.

“What’s wrong my love?” she asked as a tender concern painted her delicate face.

He smiled with water-torn eyes, mumbling “Nothing Doll… for the first time, nothing.” 

He gently wiped his eyes, bringing himself to a kneel. “I have never had this much love for anything in my entire life and yet with each day I spend by your side, my love only grows greater and greater. When I close my eyes at night, my mind is filled with images of us dancing and laughing and loving and I want that for the rest of my life. I want you for the rest of my life. You’re the only one I need  Y/N and I have so much love to share with you over this lifetime and into the next… Will you marry me?”

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #marvel x reader #marvel bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction

[harley-sunday]

A Good Man Goes to War - Masterlist

Summary: Starts right after Civil War. Steve Rogers is done being Captain America and quite happy living a quiet life in a safe house somewhere in Canada. Until Thanos goes after the Infinity Stones. What happens when a good man goes to war? 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC [f] but could be read as reader insert.

Warnings: Language. Character death (sort of, anyway). NSFW maybe once.

Status: Complete

Entry for @browngirlmagic​‘s writing challenge. My prompt was “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

Prologue - published April 2020

Part 01 - published April 2020

Part 02 - published April 2020

Part 03 - published April 2020

Epilogue - published April 2020

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers fanfic #ayesha1kwritingchallenge #Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers #Captain America

[pinkykitten]

Due Date

- @barnesandco​​ Steve Rogers has to go on a mission leaving you, the pregnant wife at home alone. At least, that’s what he thinks. You’re not going to let pregnant life stop you from having fun but maybe this baby will. You will have to learn to be without your hubby Steve for a short time while you have a bun in the oven.  prompt(s): “I’d never forgive myself for it”

pairing: steve rogers (captain america) x female! reader words: 3,266 genre: romance, fluff, pregnant reader, comedy 

a/n: i wish i could of posted this on a less sad day but i hope you do enjoy this fic about a life coming into this world and a woman being pregnant bc as all of you know its a hard time atm especially if ur a marvel fan bc our king tchalla chadwick boseman has passed away due to colon cancer. its a really sad time im shocked and so sad over this news. black panther was one of my fav marvel characters and chadwick was an amazing actor and so sweet. goodnight to a really amazing, strong person.

“So, you sure you’re going to be okay doll?” Steve asked for the hundredth time that evening. 

“Yes baby, I’m going to be fine. Now go and be the hero everyone needs and do well on your mission.” You kissed his fine lips. 

Steve chuckled and picked your pregnant body up with ease and with caution. Setting you, the mother of his child, the woman he loved with all his heart and soul, on his lap. “I’m going to miss you, mama. I mean do I really gotta go now?” 

You ran your fingers through his blonde hair and kissed his cheek, “yes, you made a promise.”

“I can break it.” 

“Steve!” You smacked his arm. “The man of America, breaking a promise? Sure.” You said sarcastically. 

“I don’t want to leave you or him,” Steve with such a gentleness kissed your pregnant belly. With your emotions going up and down from the hormones, you sometimes found days where you loved your body and accepted that you were a strong woman having a child and growing life within you. But then there were days when you hated what you saw in the mirror. Your skin carried stretch marks throughout your stomach, thighs, arms, and breasts and you sometimes felt ugly. Steve saw the look of discomfort you had when your stretchmarks were open to the world and he kissed each and everyone one of them. “They’re beautiful sweetheart. You’re beautiful and he is going to be beautiful because you created him.”

You tried not to cry because what he said was so wholesome and because you had to pee really bad and you couldn’t get up from your spot. “I love you.” 

Steve finished kissing your tummy and massaging it and kissed your lips, “I love you more.” He raised his brow and feigned a shocked reaction. “But of course baby I love you too.” He spoke directly on the tummy to his son. “Daddy will always love you no matter what. And daddy is going to miss you.”

You could tell Steve was stalling, “daddy’s gonna be late if he don’t get a move on. Your flight is in an hour, babe. And I gotta pee real bad.”

Steve helped you up and kissed atop your head, “eh, they’ll hold the jet for me. I’m Captain America.”

“I don’t forget, but to me you’re just my husband Steve. Now get out of here, now!” You chuckled as you slapped his American butt. “You have a job to do and I’m already nervous enough.”

Steve waved goodbye and left with a guilty look on his face. Why did he accept this mission? You, his wife, were about to give birth any day now and you needed him. Steve felt like the worst. 

“Be careful,” you said as you watched his car leave. “Now you behave and don’t be getting any ideas of wanting to get out until daddy comes.” You told your baby in the stomach. You hoped and prayed you would not have the baby. This was Steve and yours first child and you wanted him to experience your birth with you and you were also scared, you wanted Steve as moral support. 

Your doorbell rang and you opened it up to receive your package that had the play pen in it for when the baby arrives. It was a light gray that had some pieces of it in a granite look pattern. It was beautiful and big. It was the one you wanted all this time and Steve got it for you. You suddenly felt this rush of emotions and started tearing up thinking about Steve. You cleaned the play pen and cried at the same time, “I miss you Steve.” You thought about calling him but knew if you did he probably would come back. Instead you thought about something to do in your spare time. You couldn’t paint your toes because well you couldn’t see them. You felt a bit lazy but you had every right to be. You were carrying a baby! 

You looked at your living room set knowing this is where you were going to spend a lot of time in and you needed to situate some stuff to fit the playpen in. Your idea was to switch up your couch, tv set, coffee table, and decorations a little bit so it has a new feel and Steve can be surprised when he got home. You tried lifting the couch but it was too heavy for you and you didn’t want to do something stupid pregnant. 

“I know who to call!” You ran to your phone. 

Your doorbell rung as you walked like a penguin getting off a horse to it. It was Bucky and Sam.

“Hey guys,” you gave each a hug. “I need some muscle right now.”

“Wow you look beautiful Y/N,” Sam smiled. “You’re...glowing!”

You chuckled, “Sam you are too much for me but thank you.”

“Yeah, are you sure Steve wants you doing all this hard work? I think you should take it easy knowing any day now could be the day.” Bucky tried to knock some sense in you. 

“Steve doesn’t have to know about everything I do,” you shrugged. 

“Oh,” Sam tsked, “what you gonna tell him then when he comes in here and sees the whole house changed?”

“It’s not going to be the whole house Sam, just the living room. I’ma tell him the guys came over and helped did it as a gift for me. Now lets move the couch.”

“Not you, us. We’d be happy to do it and I think we’re strong enough,” Bucky said, no questions asked. 

You sat nearby to tell the boys where you wanted things. In due time it was starting to look like such a different room it was incredible. 

“Okay Buck can you put that chair over here babes?”

Bucky moved it to your location. 

“No, its kinda ugly there. How bout there?” You pointed further away. 

Bucky sighed as he moved the not so light chair further away. 

“Oh now it just has it sticking out-”

“Y/N why don’t you pick the spot first and make sure its for sure that one and I’ll move it then.”

You laughed, “pregnant. Can’t make up my mind.”

The boys were about to move the couch when you shot up wanting to help. 

“Y/N, you should be sitting.” Sam reprimanded you. “If anything happens to you, Steve will literally kill me. No joke.”

“I’m fine.” You pushed the couch and as you did a sharp pain made its way from your stomach. You bent over and winced. 

“Is the baby here?” Bucky panicked. 

“No he’s not. Right Y/N?” Sam questioned. 

The pain calmed and you smiled at the guys. “No, no, its okay. I feel better now. I think I should just sit.” As you sat your phone started to ring. Panic started setting in when you saw that it was Steve calling. All he wanted from you was to relax and take it easy until he got back home. You were defiantly not taking it easy and Steve couldn't know that the guys were here. “Guys be quiet! Steve is Facetiming.”

The boys froze in their spot, not wanting to make a noise. 

You tried to run as fast as you could to your bed and laid there to show you were taking it easy. “Hey baby,” you smiled over the top. “Where you at right now?”

“Hey doll,” Steve gave you that smile that had crinkles at the eyes. He was your everything. “I just got on the plane. I wanted to check up on you and make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you yawned. “I was just taking it easy, like daddy prescribed.” You evilly smiled. 

Bucky and Sam each took a break against your couch and made gagging and funny faces at you. You rolled your eyes. 

“You better, or else I have to punish you,” Steve growled as he chuckled. 

You were so embarrassed! You wanted to get eaten up by a hole and disappear. You sunk deeper within your sheets and the guys looked at you and tried to stifle their laughter. “I promise I’m listening. I miss you,” you pouted your lips. 

Steve smiled big and blew you a kiss, “I miss you more.”

Just then Bucky sneezed, getting a smack from Sam. 

“Who was that?” Steve asked.

“I farted babe, bye!” You hanged up on Steve. “Really Bucky? You couldn’t keep it in?”

“I’m sorry! Jeesh!” He waved his hair back like a flamboyant horse. 

You checked the time and saw that it was almost time for your dinner date with the girls, Natasha, Wanda, Pepper - you truly need her advice especially with her having given birth (yes im making that her and tony made beautiful Morgan already ok chill) - and Hope It was at a super fancy restaurant and yes ever though you couldn’t drink you were wanting to let off some steam and enjoy the night out. “Okay you boys need to leave.” You shooed them away. “Pregnant lady giving the orders.”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright? I don’t know I should let you in your condition stay hear all by yourself.” Sam tried to argue. 

“My condition? I’ve fought aliens and robots, Sam. I’m good. Plus I’m meeting up with the girls for a dinner.”

Bucky and Sam both eyed you. You rolled your eyes, “I swear I’m not going to drink. I’m not that kinda mom.”

“Well then, have fun.” Bucky patted your arm. “If you need anything you call us straight away you hear.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “yes old man.”

The car horn honked outside to get your attention as you tried your hardest to walk in your heels. 

“You can do this Y/N. I have faith in you.” You told yourself as you walked like Bambi. Your foot curved and you almost slipped, almost dying. “No, no, no. Not today!” You got out of your heels and settled for turquoise colored sandals. Your dress was a cream color and it was lose because you were feeling the whole sexy vibe thing. You were wanting to eat, chat and laugh until your bladder couldn’t take it no more and almost pee yourself. And you kid with yourself, you were missing your hubby Steve. You always missed him though. Hormones. 

“I’m coming!” You shouted as the doorbell rang. Someone was impatient. 

“C’mon babes! You’re like taking forever!” The voice shouted which you knew was Nat’s. 

“Uh, I am pregnant!” You opened the door and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey girl. I am so ready for him to just pop right out of me. I’m tired of him hibernating in there.” You poked your stomach. 

“Awww but he feels safe in mama.” Natasha smiled big as she touched your belly and felt the baby kicks. 

“Great. Just like his aunt.”

“Yes!” Natasha fist bumped the air. “I want a baby named after me.” She had puppy dog eyes.

“You gotta take it up with big man when he gets home.” You said as Natasha helped you down your steps and into the car. As you got in the rest of the girls squealed. “Hey girls!”

“Oh my God Y/N you look so good! You don’t even look like you’re ready to pop.” Pepper congratulated you. 

You smoothed the cloth over your belly so they can get a better view of it and they all cooed and gasped. 

“So beautiful,” Hope couldn’t help but grin. You knew she wanted that with Scott. 

“Thanks girls. Gotta keep my figure up,” you joked as you started doing the baby mama dance. All the girls hyped you up and danced along with you as the Uber driver took you to your destination. 

“I can’t wait till you’re done being pregnant so we can party hard with you,” Wanda portrayed drinking mannerism. 

“Yeah gonna be a while. Me and Steve still gotta pick out a name for this little man.” You patted your tummy. “We go over it like everyday.”

“What name does Steve like?” Wanda asked, drinking her now in her hand glass of champagne. They all got one and instead gave you a non-alcoholic kids version. 

“Really?” You raised your brow. 

“Pregger!” Hope called out. 

You just held the nasty liquid in your glass, “Steve likes Kenneth.”

The girls paused and in unison said ewww.

“Yeah I know. Y’all need to tell him that, I don’t have the heart to. He says it was swingin back in the 40s.” You impersonated him. 

“Oh my God you sound too much like him,” Natasha laughed hard. 

“Well, what name do you like?” Pepper asked. 

You rubbed your belly as you became bashful, “I like the name Asher. Asher Rogers.” Some girls liked it some girls didn’t but good thing you were already at the restaurant. “C’mon girls lets party and eaaattttt!”

Your belly stuffed knowing either Asher or Kenneth ate well and your feet swollen up from all the dancing you were beyond exhausted and ready to hit the hay. You could make do with having dessert at home. Besides the brownies were calling your name. 

“I think I’m ready to leave guys.” You stood up ready to give hugs and kisses when you felt like a water balloon was placed in between your legs and slipped out. The whole front of your dress became soaked and your heart started to pound. You thought maybe, just maybe there was still more time but no. Asher or Kenneth wanted to come out now. “Me and my big mouth.”

“Y/N, did you just?” Pepper’s mouth opened wide, shocked. 

You bit your lip, looked down and then to the girls. You nodded your head slowly. “I was so ready to eat brownies.”

“Oh wow, okay didn’t think this would happen so soon, but babes, you’re having a baby.” Hope’s smile gleamed wide and big. 

Your heart started to pound and shake and your eyes widened in fear. You didn’t have the one most important person in the mix. The father, your husband was on a mission. “I don’t think I can do this girls.” You started panicking. 

Wanda used her powers to move any objects in your way as Natasha and Pepper helped you on either side. Hope was in front guiding you to the car and screaming orders for people to get out of the way! “We got a pregnant lady about to give birth.”

As the girls settled you in the car the contractions started, good thing you were seated. You gripped tightly onto the seat and gritted your teeth. Strange and unfamiliar noises came from you. 

“Hold up,” Natasha was starting to sweat and you could tell by her face she was also worrying a bit. “Steve’s not here. He went on that thing that I told him not to do.” Natasha started to call him. “I said this was a bad idea.”

“So you jinxed this!” You grabbed a hold of Nat’s blouse. “Why you little-” the pain happened again as you tried to breathe. 

“Yeah Steve, I have some news to tell you. You better cancel whatever is going on at the moment cause you’re about to be a dad.”

You snatched the phone out of Nat’s hand, “Steve the baby is coming please get here I need you.” You started crying as you felt all the stress overwhelm you. You could hear Steve on the other hand running and his voice was shaky. “I’m scared Steve.”

“I know baby just listen to the girls okay let them help you I am on my way princess okay? You got this! You are so strong.”

With a pout of your lip you sniffled the tears like you were the baby. You were going through a ton of emotions! “Can you stay on the phone, please.”

Steve chuckled as you heard him say that he needed a jet, “of course sweetheart. I’m right here for you, you hear me. I’m not leaving you baby.”

You smiled as you clutched onto the phone with your life. 

“That was my phone,” Natasha tried to take it away from you but gave up. “Okay we need to go to the hospital, we are having a baby!”

“Alright mama, are you ready to get this beautiful baby out?” You doctor asked. 

“Already? But what about Steve!” You wanted to hold the baby in as long as you could. “I need the dad here!”

“Can she wait any longer?” Pepper tried to ask the doctor. 

“I’m sorry but this baby wants to come out now. I’ll give you a few moments to prepare yourself.”

You cried silently to yourself. The girls all wrapped you up in a small hug. 

“Don’t worry he’ll be here.” Wanda tried to make you feel better. 

“At least we’re all here for you.” Hope said. You knew all of the Avengers were waiting in the waiting room because this was a huge thing. The leader of the Avengers was having a child. They all wanted to see a Rogers. 

“No matter what you’ll be able to do it,” Natasha winked at you. 

You knew you had to give birth with or without Steve. You didn’t want him to miss the birth but its what had to be done. You nodded, “you’re right. I’m ready.”

The doctor came in with gloves since you were having it natural. You put your legs up as you spread them. The girls were by your side helping you keep them up. 

“Alright on my count you push as hard as you can like you’re angry at someone. 1,2,3!”

“I’m here!” Steve shouted as he ran into the delivery room. He was a mess. He was sweating and still in his Captain America outfit. 

“Oh my God you’re Captain America!” One of the nurses fangirled. 

Steve had pure adoration in his eyes as he looked at you. “Hey sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help it. You broke down there and then. You arms came out so Steve could hug you. Before Steve came in you were in immense pain but now that he was here you felt calm and ready to start a new chapter in your life. 

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.” 

Steve wiped your tears away, “If I’d miss this birth,  I’d never forgive myself for it.” He leaned his forehead against yours and he kissed your lips. “Are you ready baby?”

“Lets have this baby.”

“Alright, 1,2,3!” 

You pushed with all your might as Steve was beside you helping you through the whole way. He was your cheerleader, your everything. 

You held the precious baby in your arms with Steve beside you rocking you and the baby back and forth. He kissed your forehead and the baby boy’s.

“He’s so beautiful.” Steve smiled as tears fell down his cheek. “He looks just like you.”

“He has your eyes though. You’re beautiful eyes.” The apples of your cheeks couldn’t get any higher. “How did you get here so fast though?”

“This guy Chadwick helped me fly here just in time. That guys a real hero.”

A nurse walked in, “did you guys decide on a name for the little guy?”

“I think we’re gonna go with Asher-” Steve started. 

“Actually I like Chadwick. Chadwick Rogers.” You grinned as you touched your baby boys tiny hands. 

Steve repeated the name as he looked at his new pride and joy in life. “Chadwick Rogers it is.”

a/n: i wanted to include chadwick in this fic. 😔 it breaks my heart yall. but im happy i got to do a fic to remember him. hope yall enjoyed this fic. 

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#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #marvel #captain america #chris evans #marvel x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagines #steve rogers imagines #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fluff #steve rogers fluff #due date

[nekoannie-chan]

No profesional

Pareja: Brock Rumlow X Lectora

Palabras: 1915 palabras

Sinopsis: Era tu primer entrevista como miembro de los Vengadores, quizás dijiste un secreto de Brock que él no quería que nadie supiera.

Advertencias: Menciones de Smut, nada explícito.

N/A: Este One-shot es mi entrada para Dani’s Awesome Writing Challenge Mix Vol. 1 con la frase #3:

“Deja de sonreír, idiota. Se supone que eres profesional”

Y también mi entrada para Ayesha’s 1k+ Writing Challenge! con el diálogo #19:

“__. Juro por Dios, si haces eso de nuevo, alimentaré contigo el estúpido robot de Tony”.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @black23​

Disfrutabas ver a Brock entrenar con los demás, a final de cuentas ser parte de los Vengadores no era tan malo, sin contar que él había sido quien te convenció de unirte a ellos.

— ¡T/N! —te llamó Brock.

— ¿Qué pasó?

—Es la quinta vez que te hablo, ¿estás bien?

—Sí, sólo estaba distraída.

—Ya me di cuenta —contestó Brock poniendo los ojos en blanco—. Te estaba preguntando si no vas a entrenar también.

—Prefiero verte a ti u…otro tipo de “entrenamiento” —dijiste acercándote a él para besarlo.

—No olviden que esta tarde tenemos una entrevista… ¿interrumpo algo? —preguntó Steve entrando al gimnasio.

—No Cap, justo eso le estaba recordando a Brock —respondiste mostrando una sonrisa.

Brock hizo una mueca y se fue a los vestidores para cambiarse.

— ¿nerviosa por tu primer entrevista en televisión? —te cuestionó Steve.

—Un poco. ¿Hacen esto muy seguido? Me refiero a dar entrevistas.

—Al menos unas seis veces al año, Tony dice que es para que el equipo tenga relaciones públicas y promocionarnos.

— ¿Qué clase de preguntas hacen?

—A veces son personales, otras sobre lo que piensas de los otros miembros, como es tu primera entrevista te harán demasiadas preguntas, estoy seguro que también estarán interesados en tu relación con Brock.

—Ya me imagino los titulares de las noticias mañana: Crossbones tiene una relación —dijo Brock entrando de nuevo al gimnasio con otra ropa.

—Yo seré la estrella de la entrevista esta ocasión y cariño, tú pasaras a segundo plano.

—Mis admiradoras se van a poner tristes —bromeó Brock con una sonrisa.

—Bueno no me gustaría eso, entonces terminamos —respondiste lo más seria que pudiste, no querías que se diera cuenta que también estabas bromeando.

—Era broma, perdóname —se acercó a ti poniendo cara de perrito regañado.

—También bromeaba, tonto.

 Miraste tu reflejo por última vez, acababan de avisarte que en cinco minutos empezaría la entrevista, nunca antes habías estado en un estudio de televisión y mucho menos aparecido en la televisión.

Las preguntas habían sido sencillas y algunas inclusive graciosas, era tal y como te había contado Steve.

—Bueno T/N, ha sido una noche muy agradable, quisiera agradecerte por haber aceptado que te entrevistáramos, ahora la última pregunta, tu relación con nuestro querido Crossbones ha sido parte de los titulares en las últimas semanas, pero realmente no sabemos mucho al respecto, ¿cómo es su relación? —cuestionó la conductora.

—Pues Brock puede parecer un chico rudo, pero en realidad es muy tierno, incluso tiene un peluche de un perro pastor alemán, dice que es igual al que tenía de niño —respondiste nerviosa.

— ¿En serio? Eso es lindo.

—T/N…

Pudiste notar como el rostro de Brock se había puesto completamente rojo y estaba haciendo un gran esfuerzo para no mostrar su enojo, pero tenías que vengarte, antes de que salieran de la base te diste cuenta que él se había comido el pastel que habías horneado para el día siguiente especialmente para Wanda por su cumpleaños.

—Brock —lo llamaste cuando salieron del set.

Él volteó y camino hacia ti.

—Deja de sonreír, idiota. Se supone que eres profesional.

—Lo fui, podría haber dicho algo peor y se suponía que tú no te deberías de haber comido el pastel de cumpleaños de Wanda —contraatacaste.

Al día siguiente las declaraciones aparecieron en todos los noticieros tanto televisados como escritos, sin contar que había causado un gran revuelo en redes sociales, Brock apagó furioso el televisor de la sala después de escuchar lo que sus fans decían al respecto.

—Vamos Brock, podría ser la presidenta de tu club oficial de fans, ellas amaron tu peluche, mira incluso están publicando dibujos al respecto en Instagram —le mostraste tu celular.

—T/N. Juro por Dios, si haces eso de nuevo, alimentaré contigo el estúpido robot de Tony.

—Brock, sabemos que tu vida sería muy aburrida sin mí, no puedes negar que me amas, no sigas enojado, hoy es el cumpleaños de Wanda, en la noche te daré lo que quieras —respondiste mientras le guiñabas un ojo, él negó con la cabeza y se rio.

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #danisawesomewcmix #brock rumlow x lectora

[alyxkbrl]

Bucky Barnes “Masterlist”

I don’t know if I’ll ever write more stories but if I ever do, I’ll link them here.

Thank you so much for reading! 

Comments and reblogs are more than welcome.

💜💜💜💜💜

Good Looking Stranger >  A handsome stranger finally stops by the café where you work. My submission for #ayesha1kwritingchallenge .

A Little Accident >  What starts like a great day is disrupted by one mistake, making you feel like all is lost. But you’re saved by your own personal hero. My submission for #buckysknifecollectionchallenge 

#bucky barnes masterlist #my bucky fics