#i don't know why poor bucky is bleeding

[burninblood]

Winter Soldier + Black Widow

limited color palette

#winter soldier #black widow #buckynat #winterwidow #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #james and natalia #i think i love you james buchanan barnes #i don't know why poor bucky is bleeding #sorry #fanart #mine #burninbloodart #limited color palette #I love nat's costume with that hood

[jakes3resin]

Hmmm thinking thoughts about Modern Clegan Break Up Fight AU

Just the pair getting into a fight because Bucky wants to go public about their relationship, but Buck doesn't understand why. Their close friends know, and they know. Who else needs to know? Buck asks this, and Bucky says he wants everyone to know. He wants to do all the cheesy romance shit like meeting the parents and siblings and stuff. Bucky wants to go to parties or events with Buck as his date. He wants to go out on public dates where people see them and know. Buck says he likes their private dates, and he likes how they don't have to be a side show for the people they go to school with (university not high school).

They go back and forth until finally Bucky bursts out that he wants everyone to know because he doesn't want to be the one left behind anymore. Bucky's the good time guy, or so everyone who's ever hooked up with him or gone out with him has said. He's scared that Buck will eventually agree with them (like Buck ever would but Bucky is scared). So now he wants to prove to Gale that he's serious about this, serious about them.

But, Buck's scared in his own way. His dad's still in the picture, and he would rather die than let his shitty excuse for a father anywhere near Bucky. Because his dad is the type to show up and try to teach the boy dating his son a lesson. Except he doesn't say that to Bucky. He says John I don't want to go public with this.

Poor Bucky takes that the exact wrong way. Usually he can read Buck like the back of his hand, but right now he's too emotional and stuck in his own head. He can't see past the facade right now. They start to really argue, building off of each other's energy until finally Bucky says that he can't be with someone who feels like they have to hide being in love with him.

Bucky storms out saying they're over. Heads back to his apartment where he tries to calm down and breathe. He goes and drinks some water to calm down. Except he accidently slices his hand open dropping his water glass. He gets blood all over his bathroom trying to fix it. That's how Curt finds him.

Curt is Bucky's roommate. He wasn't even supposed to be there that weekend. He was actually supposed to be in a different state for a concert the next night, but he forgot his wallet and turned back around after only being on the road for an hour. He finds Bucky bleeding and crying his eyes out, telling himself that that's what he gets for trying to be more than a good time. Curt goes into lockdown mode cause that's bullshit. He cleans Bucky up, and when Bucky looks at him with bright teary eyes and says he and Buck broke up, it's heartbreaking. Bucky sniffles and says he doesn't know what to do because he can't face anyone after this. Curt stuffs Bucky into his car and books it. Bucky forgets his cellphone in the apartment in the rush to get out of there. He realizes it a few hours later when it's too late to turn back.

Buck, meanwhile, has had his panic attack and calmed down. He knows that neither of them were in a good place for that argument, and he gives Bucky some space (a few hours) before he shows up to try and talk to him again. Only Bucky isn't at his apartment, and when Buck can't find him at any of the parties or bars on campus or with their mutual friends, he starts to get scared. Bucky's phone goes straight to voicemail over and over again. Buck goes back and breaks in (uses the spare key Bucky gave him) only to stumble upon an apartment trashed and covered with blood. He freaks out and calls everyone he can think of. Everyone joins the search, and it turns into a whole thing.

Hospitals get called, and then the cops get called, who since they're college town cops are suitably useless. Buck spends the next three days thinking Bucky hurt himself or was hurt bad enough he can't make it to one of their friends or a hospital.

Bucky is having a lovely time by the way. He managed to get a ticket to the concert, maybe Curt had an extra, and it's a great band. He's still heartbroken, but sometimes you just have to scream along to some artist you only learned about yesterday cause it's better than crying. He and Curt end up so hungover the next day that they don't get on the road back to their university until it's super late. They don't tell anyone they got back in town and pass out not knowing everyone in their life thinks Bucky is missing.

Bucky shows up to classes the next day, and he doesn't understand why Brady loses his shit when he sees Bucky walking around campus like their entire friend group hasn't been losing their shit all weekend. Brady drags him away even though Bucky's whining about missing his morning class.

Big reunion scene back at Bucky's apartment where Buck breaks down in tears because he's just so fucking relieved Bucky is okay. They work through their shit, and Bucky has to promise never to go on anymore impromptu road trips.

#okay so i have disappeared after bad break ups so to me this isnt so out there #but also i know that doing so is not a normal or healthy response to breaking up with your so #do better than bucky and i folks #also curt blocked buck's number immediately after bucky said they broke up because buck didnt want to go public #he stands on principle also its so he could resist leaving death threats in Buck's inbox for making bucky doubt his worth #so thats why buck couldnt just call him and ask where bucky was #mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #clegan #john egan #gale cleven #is this dramatic? yeah but i enjoyed writing it so whatever

[mymoonagedaydream]

Summary: After the incident things were looking pretty bleak, but the one thing you thought would make everything worse ended up saving you.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of guns and gun violence

Author’s Note: So I wrote a one shot because I cannot, for the life of me, stick to a consistent writing schedule. Enjoy!

---

You never expected anyone to feel sorry for you. That had been a pretty consistent theme throughout your life, why would anyone feel sorry for the kid who got everything they asked for? Granted, the only things in your past that might have sparked an ounce of pity were trivial, like a broken ankle or a bad break up, but even after this mess you never expected much. 

It'd been a few months now since it happened, either two or three, you weren't sure exactly- enough time for seemingly everyone you'd ever met to show up and implore you to tell the story over and over again. One or two of them did appear genuinely concerned but you couldn't shake the feeling that most of them just wanted the gossip, desperate for anything to make them the most interesting person in the room at their next garden party or champagne brunch or ambassador's reception. Every single painful, repetitive, disingenuous conversation you had to sit through served as a further reminder of why you’d left this life behind as soon as you had the chance. Now you were stuck back here for god knows how much longer, and everything just felt bleak.

A soft knock rapped against your bedroom door. You didn't bother answering, they'd just let themselves in, they always did. The knob turned and the door creaked open, your father's timid face peering in.

“Are you busy?” It was nice of him to ask, but it was also unnecessary, because you hadn’t left your couch to do anything other than pee in weeks. “Your aunt Carol is here. She brought you some gifts, I thought it might make you feel better.”

Both of you knew very well that it would have the opposite effect, the only thing you'd ever resented your mother for was bringing that vapid bitch into your life. Well, that and accidentally letting slip that the tooth fairy wasn’t real on your third birthday. 

Carol careered round the door and past your father in her typical pantomime dame dress and makeup. You smirked, thinking to yourself that, in dimmer light and with some sinister music, it would've made an excellent scene for a horror film. Ever since your mother passed she’d been sniffing around the house more and more, you were convinced she was trying to seduce your dad to get his money but you couldn't prove it. Thankfully, he had enough sense to stay the hell away from her.  

“Oh, look at you, you poor thing. You look awful.” She clunked the wrapped box and card she was holding down on the table and joined you on the couch, her offensive perfume making your nose begin to itch. “Come on, auntie Carol is here for you now, tell me everything darling.”

You gave your father, who was standing by the door looking very apologetic, a harsh glare. 

“There's not much to tell. Dad was mid-speech when some guy in the audience stood up, next thing I knew he was getting tackled and there was a loud bang. I look down and I'm bleeding.”

“Oh my, who was he?”

“Just some crazy, nationalist, militia guy targeting politicians, apparently. They have no idea if he was alone or with a group so it’s safer for me to stay here for now. My apartment is too much of a risk.”

“Bless you. It's so difficult being in the public eye, but you are so brave.” She pointed down to your stomach, “and don't worry, I've got some magic serum that'll clear up any unsightly scars ready for bikini season. I'll send you my diet plan, too.”

You turned the dial up on the daggers you were shooting your father every time she looked away, and he finally took the hint. 

“Okay, Carol. We should let her rest now.”

“Alright, love you so much baby. Look after yourself, okay? Maybe run a comb through your hair or something. Very frizzy.”

You rolled your eyes at her back as she left and reached over to grab the card. There was a sad puppy on the front, sitting beneath the words sorry you’re having a hard time. You figured that Hallmark probably didn't stock a sorry you got shot by a psychopath card.

Your father was lingering. He never lingered. 

“Everything okay, dad?”

“Yes. Although, there is something I need to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I've hired someone.”

“Right.”

“For you,” he noted your confusion, “to protect you.”

“A bodyguard?”

“No, he's not a bodyguard.” You raised an eyebrow. “He's not just a bodyguard.”

“The hell does that mean?”

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he strode over and took a seat beside you, preparing himself with a deep breath. This was serious. 

“The last time you saw Dr Burke she recommended that we… don't leave you on your own too much. So, he's going to be looking out for your welfare, going to be spending time with you.”

“Ah, I see. Suicide watch. Great.”

“I’m worried about you. You barely eat, you don't move from that spot, you haven’t showered for weeks. I know you miss being in your own place but,” he put his hand on top of yours, “I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t lose you too.”

Well, that hit you like a punch in the gut.

“Okay, dad. If you think it’ll help.”

“I do.” He stood up, giving you a light kiss on the top of your head before turning to leave. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

---

You were woken from a light sleep by another knock on the door. The only thing you hadn’t been struggling with recently was sleep, it was the only way you could make your days pass quicker.

Again, the door creaked open before you answered. Your dad stepped in followed by a man you assumed to be your new long-term babysitter. You’d expected someone more stern looking, someone dressed like an extra from Men in Black, but he just looked like a normal guy. He had a strong face, broad shoulders and deep brown hair. If you’d been in a different state of mind you might even have considered him attractive, but you were far too tired for anything like that.

“Sweetheart, this is-” Your father looked blankly over to his companion, obviously already having forgotten his name.

“James. Nice to meet you.”

You mustered a faint smile. There was a brief, awkward silence as your father’s eyes flicked from you back to the composed looking guest, whose huge arms were folded over his chest. 

“Well, uh- I have a call in a few minutes. I suppose I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he clapped a hand on James’ back, “just let me know if you need anything.”

Then, just like that, you were alone with a complete stranger. Your eyes stayed firmly fixed to the movie you’d slept through half of but were suddenly incredibly interested in. You heard James shuffle forwards, his broad frame eventually scooching into the edge of your vision.

“Look, I get it. You’re a grown-ass adult, I wouldn’t like having some stranger keeping an eye on me all the time either. If you want, I can just stick to the corner, stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”

That actually sounded like a pretty sweet deal, but you’d feel incredibly guilty having him perched on the other side of the room like a piece of furniture. The least you could do was be a little friendly.

“That’s alright, you can have the comfy seat,” you faintly motioned your head towards the nearby armchair, “but I’ll be shitty company.”

He happily settled himself in. “Makes no odds to me, I’m getting paid to be here.”

A short breathy chuckle escaped your lips, taking you by surprise. It’d been a long while since someone had made you laugh, all the conversations you’d had in the past few weeks had been unbelievably morbid and condescending, most of them with people you had no interest in talking to in the first place.

A couple of silent hours passed. You‘d gotten so used to being alone that you kept forgetting he was there, the odd cough or movement making you jump out of your skin. Eventually, Elaine pounded on the door and announced that she’d brought dinner up for both of you, so James jumped up and helped her with the cart.

Elaine was your father’s housekeeper and the only thing that had prevented him dying of starvation or exposure since your mom died. She was kind and patient, you liked her alot. Her food was always incredible, you felt awful for barely eating it over the last few weeks but the pain from your stomach wound combined with zero expenditure of energy had just killed your appetite.

James looked from his plate over to yours, his knife and fork poised. “You not eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Someone had been talking to dad. 

You shrugged. “This morning, I think.”

“Bullshit.” Your eyes snapped in his direction. “You know you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat, right? You’ll just have to put up with me bugging you for even longer.”

“Thought you were gonna stay out my way?”

“Mostly.” His mouth curled into a faint smile. “How about this, you eat a couple bites, I’ll eat the rest and we’ll tell your dad you ate the whole thing.”

You considered for a second. Not a bad offer, getting your dad off your back for a while would be pretty great. You knew what game he was playing but you were more than willing to play too just as long as the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.

“Deal.”

You expended a tremendous amount of effort leaning yourself forward and grabbing the plate, feeling James’ gaze tunnelling into the side of your face as the two of you began to eat. You had to admit, you enjoyed the food much more than you’d expected, half the plate had gone before you felt full. James looked pretty smug while finishing off the rest of it.

The sky outside slowly turned dark and you could feel yourself getting sleepy, so you settled deeper into the couch for your third sleep of the day.

“Hey,” James leant forward in his seat, “you need help getting to your bed or anything?”

“Oh, no, I’m good. I usually just sleep here.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “There? Is that comfortable? Can’t be good for your back.”

“Probably isn’t, but I don’t have the energy to move.”

“You don’t need the energy,” he sprung up from his seat, “you’ve got me.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, James had an arm anchored around your upper back and was inching you upwards, away from the safety of your sad-zone and onto your feet. A few mild pangs of pain shot through your stomach but it wasn’t enough to make you fight back, so you just gave in, relaxed into his grip and let him walk you across the room.

Your mattress was unbelievably comfortable and you felt knot after knot untying in your back as you stretched out flat, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Who was this magical asshole, anyway, showing up and suddenly knowing what would help you better than you did?

“I’m just gonna crash on that armchair, if that’s all good with you.”

“There?” You carefully rolled onto your side so you were facing away from him. “Can’t be good for your back.”

A deep chuckle came from behind you. “Smartass. Shout me if you need to go to the bathroom or anything.”

You just grunted, already half asleep. It was only another minute or so before you drifted off peacefully and got the best night of rest you’d had in weeks.

Maybe this babysitting thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

You woke to the sound of soft snoring on the other side of the room. Light was bleeding in around the curtains and you could hear footsteps in the corridor, probably your father heading downstairs for his coffee and newspaper. Coming to your senses, you rolled over and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pee. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over to see James’ limp hand hanging over the edge of the armchair. 

You didn’t need him, you could do this. 

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and hoisting yourself up was easier than expected but that, unfortunately, made you a little overconfident for the rest of the journey. After a couple of steps the pain started. You felt pathetic but that amount of effort had actually winded you, all you could do was lower yourself to the ground to catch your breath. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t even realise he’d woken up, you were too busy wheezing. 

“Gotta pee.” You managed to push your words out between gulped in breaths.

“What did I say last night, huh? You should’a yelled.” He lowered himself beside you, placing one arm around your back and one under your knees. “Alright, brace yourself.”

“Wait, what are you-”

You choked on your words when he lifted you clean off the floor, a feat that not many had accomplished in the past. He offered to take you as far as the toilet itself but you adamantly refused, determined to cling onto your last shred of dignity while just about managing to shuffle over there, supporting yourself on the sink. 

You washed your hands and intentionally avoided looking in the mirror, moving straight over to the door and finding your minder stood directly outside.

He folded his arms. “While you’re here, why not take a quick shower?”

“I’m not supposed to get my dressings wet.”

“Again, nice try, but you really gotta do better than that to bullshit me.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me rot away in peace?”

“I mean, I could, but I’m pretty sure your dad would refuse to pay me.”

“I’ll pay you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t afford me, honey.” He smirked and slipped past you. “I’ll get the water going.”

James turned the shower on and put some folded towels by the sink before heading back into your room and gathering some clean pyjamas. You just stayed where you were, leaning against the counter, as he buzzed around like an overexcited child.

“You’re all set. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thank you, supernanny.”

He flipped you the bird. You laughed and locked the door.

Slowly, carefully, you got undressed, removed your bandages and placed them in the bin. You then had to perch yourself down on the closed toilet seat for a brief break before climbing into the shower. Standing under the water, you looked down at your wound for the first time in weeks, finding yourself amazed at how quickly it had healed. You ran your fingers over it. Never in a million years did you think you’d have a healed gunshot wound anywhere on your body. You thought back to what your aunt said, maybe it was unsightly, it certainly looked weird from this ang-

“You alright?”

James’ overbearing voice snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Yes.”

You turned off the shower and stepped out, lifting a towel to your face and savouring the feeling of finally being clean again. You couldn’t imagine how bad you must’ve smelled before. You pulled on the fresh pyjamas before taking a deep breath and wiping down the mirror, getting a nasty shock when you saw yourself. It looked like all the life had been drained out of you. Your face looked pallid, red eyes sitting above deep, dark bags while skin flaked from your chapped lips. Your hair was still dripping wet but you could tell that weeks of neglect had taken a toll on it.

It seemed like James might’ve come along just in time, any longer sitting in that misery pit and these changes might’ve become irreversible.

“Still all good?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, just trying to remember the most efficient way to cut wrists. Is it horizontal or vertical?”

Throwing your towel in the laundry basket, you opened the door to see a very unamused looking man. 

“Real funny.”

He didn’t get a chance to properly scold you before Elaine knocked on the door with breakfast, a smug grin settling on your face as it dawned on him that he probably shouldn’t cuss you out in front of your father’s closest confidante. 

The two of you settled into your designated spots. James immediately started digging into the plate that had been piled high for him but you held off, it had been a while since you stood up for that long and you needed to recover. Sharp pangs of stomach pain weren’t exactly the perfect accompaniment to a hearty appetite.

James placed his fork down on the table and leaned back in his chair, mouth full of food. “We gotta do this again, buttercup?”

“I just need a minute.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“We did,” a bolt of inspiration struck as you realised it was your turn to get a little something interesting out of this relationship, “but I want to change it up a bit.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I’ll eat if you tell me the most insane thing that’s happened to you while bodyguarding.”

“I really shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Shame,” you dramatically pushed your plate away with a flourish, “I was actually feeling pretty hungry.”

He considered, glaring at you from beneath an arched eyebrow and rhythmically tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Fine, but you gotta finish the whole plate.”

“The whole plate.”

“Alright.” 

He leant forward again and carried on eating so you followed suit, forcing down one small bite at a time and just hoping that his story would be worth the pain.

“So, one time some rich dude hired me ‘cause his daughter was worried she had a stalker. Apparently she kept seeing someone in a black hoodie following her around, she even saw ‘em standing on their lawn a few times. Thing is, no-one else had ever seen it. I think half the reason I was hired was to figure out if she was just going crazy.”

“Was she?”

“Be patient, pumpkin. You’ll find out.” Your cheeks flushed a little when he called you that. “A couple weeks passed and I hadn’t seen anything. Then, middle of the night, everyone else was asleep and I was doing my rounds. I looked out the window to the yard and there was someone standing underneath her window in a black hoodie.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. So, obviously, I sprinted down there, but they spotted me and started running. They vaulted the fence and I would’a lost ‘em in the trees but they got snagged on the other side. I grabbed ‘em, pulled down the hood and-” He eyed the huge fork-full of food you were hovering by your mouth, “you wanna eat that?”

You rolled your eyes, shoved it all in your face and let out a muffled plea. “And?”

“It was her, the daughter.”

“Fuck off.”

“Dead serious. Turns out one of her friends had a stalker and was getting a load of sympathy and attention because of it, so she got jealous and made up one of her own. She figured if I saw it just once everyone would believe her.”

“That’s so fucked. Is that even legal?”

“No idea, not my job. I got my paycheck and left the next morning.”

“Nice to know you really care about your clients.”

He laughed. “Most of my clients are spoiled assholes who never even bother to learn my name.”

“Really? Can’t be hard to learn a name as simple as Justin.” You received your second unamused scowl of the day. “Anyway, we spoiled brats have enough on our plate without having to learn the name of the person willing to take a bullet for us.”

“Nah, you’re not spoiled.”

“You think?”

“Trust me, I’ve seen spoiled. You’re not spoiled. I think you’re the only client I’ve actually enjoyed talking to.”

Interesting. Probably shouldn’t delve into that statement too deeply.

“I’d take that as a compliment but it sounds like there isn’t much competition.”

He smirked, staying silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “My friends call me Bucky, by the way. I prefer it to James. And I really prefer it to Justin.”

“If you insist,” you shrugged, “but I still think you’d make a good Timberlake.”

---

You managed to stomach a good amount of food that day and you even had a good stab at breakfast when the next day rolled around, so you hoped that Bucky might leave you to your own devices for a while now he’d got his own way.

He did not.

As soon as you’d swallowed the last mouthful of toast he announced that he was going to take you on a walk around the garden.

You looked from him to your stomach, then back at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We’ll take it slow, one step at a time, and it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

“Can’t we just open a window?”

“Nope.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair and jumped to his feet. “C’mon sweetheart, you know I’m just gonna annoy the hell out of you until you agree.”

“Is threatening me allowed in your contract?”

“It’s not a threat. It’s persuasion with consequences.”

You eventually relented. He was super keen to get going but it soon became clear that he’d overestimated how far along the healing process you were, it took the two of you almost an hour just to get out of your bedroom and down the stairs with all the constant stopping for breath. Bucky went ahead and pulled open the sliding glass door, your mood instantly lifting when the first breeze of fresh air washed over you. You were starting to hate how often he was right. 

He offered you his arm and set a bench on the other side of the lawn as your goal. The neatly mowed grass felt soft between your toes, the faint sounds of birds and planes overhead helping you relax a great deal more than the constant background noise from the TV you’d kept switched on for weeks now. When you reached your goal, Bucky helped you lower yourself onto the seat and carefully squeezed himself beside you once you were settled. Sitting this close to him felt strange, you were used to him being confined to his armchair, and the bench was a pretty small one. His thigh was pressed up against yours. You tried not to think about it.

Deeply inhaling the smell of grass and flowers into your lungs made you feel like a new person but it was also making you a little drowsy, the journey down had zapped all your energy and the warmth from the morning sun was cosy and soothing. 

The next thing you remembered was your head being gently nudged, prompting your eyes to flicker open. 

“Sorry, princess. I’d let you sleep for hours but I really need to pee.”

You came to your senses and felt the crook of Bucky’s neck against the top of your head. His arm was around you, hand gently resting on your shoulder. 

“Shit, sorry.” In your embarrassment you sat up a little too quickly, wincing at the pain that shot through your stomach. 

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just, y’know, the ol’ bullet would.” You laughed off his concern and waved him away. “Go pee.”

“Alright, I’ll just be a minute, don’t move.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

He was already sprinting across the lawn when he shouted back. “That’s the spirit, sunshine.”

You shot a giddy grin at the back of his head. It still felt like morning but you had no idea how long you’d been knocked out for, you just knew you could very easily spend every night resting in Bucky’s neck like that.

---

Your shadow had been with you for about a week now and, contrary to all initial expectations, you’d actually been enjoying his company. He could be annoying as hell with his constant demands pushing you further and further when all you wanted to do was melt into the couch, but you could see that he was good for you. You supposed that being forced to spend every second of every day with someone gave you no choice but to recognize their good qualities. Thankfully, he seemed to have a lot of those. 

Elaine had just collected the dishes from lunch and Bucky had somehow stolen the remote from you. He flicked on some appallingly trashy reality show, your concentration faded in and out but every time you forced yourself to pay attention someone was either screaming or necking. 

You’d barely even registered the knock at your bedroom door when he jumped up and launched himself towards it like the diligent little soldier he was. You listened intently, your stomach turning when you heard Carol’s voice interspersed with his. Hopefully he’d assess her as a security threat and slam the door in her stupid face.

To your great disappointment, he did not. 

“Oh my,” she looked a little more like a painted old hag than a pantomime dame today, “who is that and where can I get one?”

“That’s James, dad hired him to keep an eye on me.”

“Do you know which agency he’s with?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t uncle Frank leave you the house and the security guard in his will?”

“Ugh, yes but he could’ve been a bit more thoughtful. I’d rather not have to look at that beer belly every time I drive through the front gate.”

“I see.”

You tried to plead for help from Bucky with your eyes but he was too busy giving a confused look to the back of her embroidered jacket, the one that you were convinced had been made from old curtains and lampshade tassels. She placed herself down in his seat, leaving him bewildered, turning on the spot like a glitched out video game NPC. He eventually just sat beside you. 

“So,” she crossed her veiny old legs, “did you like the present I brought you before?”

You did not like the present she brought you before. It was a self help book whose blurb encouraged you to 'break free from your own mental cage' and 'start being the best version of you'. That mindset is incredibly toxic, Carol. Therapists and antidepressants exist for a reason, Carol. Not everyone can make themselves feel better by getting sloppy wine drunk on their dead husband's money every evening, Carol.

“Yeah, it was great. Thanks.”

“I knew you'd love it, so I brought you something else.” She scurried around in her comically oversized purse for a while before pulling out a small white tub. “It's that miracle balm I told you about, for the scar.” 

She noiselessly mouthed the word scar and covered the side of her mouth so Bucky couldn't see, like it was a dirty word, like she couldn't bear to think of the handsome man in the room knowing about such an ugly thing. 

“Oh right, thanks but I'm not really supposed to put anything on it while it's still healing. Could get infected.” 

“No honey, if you let that thing heal on its own you'll regret it, trust me.”

“Well, the doctor said-”

“Baby, look at me.” The legs became uncrossed as she leaned in. “I'm going to be honest now because I love you. Your body is a five out of ten, maybe a six if you did a cleanse.” 

“Right…”

“Now, with this hideous thing sitting on your stomach, you're down to a three. I don't want that for you, do you?”

You were speechless for a second. The words fuck off were just beginning to form in your mouth when she cut you off, turning her attention to the equally pissed looking Bucky.

“How about a man's perspective, hmm? You wouldn't want a partner with something so ghastly on them, would you?”

The calmness with which he answered her was pretty impressive.

“Well, to be honest, I couldn't give a fuck, cause I tend to rate personality higher. Like you, for example, are two out of ten but with a few lessons in grace and courtesy, I could see you moving up to a solid five.”

Your mouth fell open. The breath hitched in your lungs as your eyes flicked between the two of them, one looking outraged, the other looking very fucking pleased with himself. The silence was tense. 

After a few seconds she leapt up and stormed out of the room, her heels rapidly clicking against the floor while she screeched your father's name. 

Bucky just shrugged at you. “Guess her own medicine didn’t taste too sweet.”

“That was amazing.”

“I'm used to dealing with assholes like that,” he followed her lead, standing up and heading for the door, “but, unlucky for her, I'm in charge of who gets access to this room.”

“You can ban her?”

“If I think she's causing you harm I can do whatever I want.”

“You’re my new favourite person.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

He’d been gone for a while when some muffled shouting started downstairs. Too invested in the situation not to investigate, you decided to slide yourself off the couch and press your ear to the floor in an effort to make out the words. It didn’t work, obviously, and you soon realised there was no way in hell you’d be able to hoist yourself back up again. You just had to wait on the ground while your dignity slowly drained away piece by piece.

Bucky eventually returned, predictably freaking out when he spotted you.

“Shit, what happened? Did you fall?”

“No I kinda… slid.” He gave you a puzzled look while lifting you back onto the couch. “Sorry, I was trying to hear the argument. What happened?”

“She won't be bothering you again.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Can I keep you forever?” You rested your head against the couch cushions. “I’ll let you watch as much trash TV as you want.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

---

A week passed and then another, and with each day you were achieving more and more. Bucky had you showering every day, eating three square meals and taking increasingly lengthy walks around the garden- when your painkillers were doing their job. He’d even spoken to your father about making sure everyone in the house waited for a response after knocking on your door. It sounded like an insignificant thing but you really valued every ounce of privacy you could get your hands on, and it did wonders for improving your mood. 

Another thing that was helping in that regard was spending most of your downtime just talking with him. On more than a few occasions you’d actually forgotten he was being paid to stick around, it felt more like you were hanging out with an old friend. 

Sometimes it felt like you were hanging out with more than a friend but, every time those feelings started to surface, you quickly pushed them back down into the dark depths in your mind. Acknowledging them would just set you up for inevitable disappointment. 

Today, you’d agreed to leave your father’s property for the first time since the incident. Bucky had offered to take you out for a coffee as a soft reintroduction back into the normal world. He drove you out in his ridiculously oversized SUV, passing plenty of perfectly good coffee shops so he could show you his favourite one. It didn’t look like anything special but you trusted him. 

He helped you to one of the outside tables, took your order and shuffled inside, giving you a wink over the top of his sunglasses. You rested your hands on the table and glanced around. The street was busy with people and cars and most of the other tables were full, it was midday so you figured most of them were working people taking their lunch breaks.

Then, just for a second, out of the corner of your eye you saw someone in the street stop. Looking over, you made brief eye contact with them before they checked their watch and continued walking. Why were they looking at you? Your eyes darted around the other faces passing by, your panic starting to rise when another of them looked your way. 

You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your palms prickling with sweat. The quickening pace of your heart made it harder and harder to pull breath into your lungs, all the muscles in your legs started to tense and your vision blurred at the edges. 

“You okay?”

Two takeout cups were hastily abandoned on the table in front of you and a soothing hand landed on your back, Bucky’s face trying to make its way into your line of sight.

“Mhmm.”

“I told you not to bullshit me. What happened?”

“Nothing, really. I just-” You pulled in a stuttering breath. “Need to adjust.”

“Pretty hard to do that when you’re mid panic attack, no? C’mere.”

He turned you round to face him and took you through some breathing exercises, helping you get back in control. The worst of the storm eventually passed but you were pretty shaken up, and he could tell.

“Maybe this was too soon.”

“No, this is good. It probably would’ve happened even if we'd waited longer. Better to get it out of the way.”

“And what if the coffee had taken another ten minutes? You would’a just passed out while I was waiting for fucking milk to foam.”

He seemed angry, but not at you. 

“It’s okay, Buck. Really. I could’ve been hit by a truck on the walk over from the car but wasn’t, so why worry about it.”

“Still, we should get you somewhere less crowded,” he took you by the hand, which was unusual, cause he usually just guided you with a flat palm on the back, “probably should’ve started with that.”

You headed back to the car, Bucky somehow juggling you along with two hot drinks, and drove a few miles out of the city. He said he knew of a short, flat hiking trail out in the woods that was only ever busy on weekends. It wasn’t exactly the reintroduction into society that the two of you had planned but, at the very least, it was a step above walks around the yard. 

He calmed down once you began walking, the jolly, laid back, Bucky that you were used to quickly resurfacing. It was a huge relief, him being on edge made you on edge and that wasn’t exactly the optimum mood for avoiding another panic attack. 

He kept a firm arm around you most of the way, anchoring you to him and protecting you against potential falls. You were pretty sure they were the only reasons.

“I must look fucking dreadful,” you chuckled, “if we bump into anyone they’ll probably think you just found me in the woods.”

“Shut up, you look great.”

“For a three-week-old corpse.”

“A corpse wouldn’t argue back so much.”

“I’m just keeping you on your toes.”

“Damn right you are.”

You smiled to yourself, hearing the warmth in his voice, and decided now was a good time to finally ask him a question you’d been thinking about for a while.

“So, you’ve really never had another client you’ve enjoyed talking to? Not even one?”

“Not that I can remember.” He shrugged slightly. “Why are you so surprised, anyway? We both know how many assholes there are out there.”

“True. I just think you’re easy to talk to, I guess. I’m surprised no-one else made the effort.”

“That’s sweet of you doll, but you should know that just letting me sit by you was completely new for me. I usually don’t even get a chair, never mind a conversation.”

“Brutal. I’m glad the shelter rehomed you with us.”

“Me too.” 

You laughed for a second before realising that all this talking had used up your pitiful lung capacity. You came to a stop, Bucky quickly moving to stand in front of you. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, I could just use a break.”

“Take as long as you need,” he placed his hands on your upper arms, “we can sit for a while if you want.”

“I’m good.”

Without thinking, you placed both hands on his chest to steady yourself, immediately realising that it was kind of a weird thing to do. Your eyes shot up to his but he was just smiling softly, seemingly unbothered. 

The two of you held that position for what felt like an age. 

Then, slowly, cautiously, his hands moved down to rest on your lower back, just above your hips. He stepped in closer and your hands tensed, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. He lowered his head, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. You eagerly reciprocated, curling a hand around the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to keep him there as long as you could. It fell, however, when he abruptly pulled away, your arms going limp at your sides.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, I-”

“It’s not. Jesus, I’m supposed to be looking after you.” He rubbed his eyes. “We should get back.”

“Can you just wait for a second? I’m not-”

“No.” He was stern, he’d never talked to you like that before. “We’re going back to the car, now.”

You were too shocked to argue. The walk back was tense and the drive home was the same, you looked over at him a few times but his stony expression encouraged you to keep quiet. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had he in your eyes, but you really had to keep reminding yourself of that. It felt like you’d committed a crime. 

Once home, you headed up to your room but he didn’t follow, which was unusual. When your father knocked on your door later and told you that Bucky had removed himself from duty, you weren’t surprised. He claimed that a big job had come up out of nowhere. 

He never even said goodbye.

---

You hadn’t so much as heard from Bucky since he left over a month ago. You’d maintained all his rituals and kept your healing process on track, adapting your daily walks so you could do them alone, sticking nearby walls and railings. It was a real struggle, emotionally and physically, but you were determined not to let him abandoning you knock you off course. You didn’t even let yourself cry when he left. You were just angry. 

So, naturally, when a chance for you to prove to yourself how far you’d progressed without him came around, you jumped at it. A friend of your father’s was throwing a birthday party for his daughter, you’d never been able to stand her but you hadn’t had a proper drink since the incident- and the booze there would be insanely expensive stuff. Plus, you’d been pining for any excuse to wear something other than pyjamas.

You strolled into the party, arm in arm with your father, and you felt good. You felt ready to be there. That was, until you saw who was working security detail. You barely recognised him in the full black bodyguard suit, you were so used to a t-shirt and jeans, but it was definitely him. Your evening was instantly ruined as you started mentally plotting the best way to avoid him.

You decided a good first step was to head straight to the bathroom to compose yourself, giving yourself the same pep talk in the mirror that you’d given the day after he left. You’d come too far to let him fuck up your first big outing. You dabbed the nervous sweat from your upper lip, adjusted your outfit and gave yourself a nod. You could do this. You just needed to stay away.

Wandering back into the party, you looked around for your father, the only person in the room you had any interest in talking to. You heard your name being called over the music and turned towards it. There he was, standing beside Bucky, beckoning you over. 

So your plan was fucked, then. 

Your stomach tightened. You grabbed a drink from a nearby table and moved over reluctantly.

“There you are. Listen, James was just telling me about the big job he was called to, it sounds incredibly interesting.”

“Oh, really?” 

You took a big gulp of champagne, wondering if Bucky’s fictitious story was as good as the real one he’d told you over breakfast that time. Or maybe that one was all made up, too. You glanced over and accidentally caught his eye for a second, but he quickly broke away and looked back at your father. 

“I probably shouldn’t go into any more detail.”

“Of course not, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble.” You involuntarily scoffed at your father’s words but managed to play it off as a cough. “It’s such a shame, though. You two seemed to really be getting on well together.” 

Your father looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching a tennis match, unaware of how painfully awkward the lingering silence was. You finished off your champagne and grabbed a fresh glass from a passing waiter, looking around the room for any excuse to leave this conversation. Unfortunately, your father found one first. 

“Ah, there’s the birthday girl, I’d better go pass on some well wishes. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

You cringed as he walked away. Quickly deciding that it was better to not even attempt conversation, you just silently nodded at Bucky and turned to leave. You didn’t get far, however, as he grabbed hold of your arm and stepped towards you. 

“Can we talk?”

You were incredibly shocked but tried to play it off. “I guess."

“In private?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you glared down at his hand, “but I would like it if you let go of my arm.”

“Sorry.” 

He released his grip and you took a small step away, putting a safe distance between your faces. You were still pissed off at him, that much was for sure, but you weren’t ready to trust yourself being in such close proximity to him again. Anything could happen. 

“I get why you’re pissed at me, I would be too. I just need to explain.”

“I know why you did what you did, Buck. You don’t need-”

“Please. Someone’s taking over my shift in ten minutes, will you meet me upstairs?”

“Upstairs? Like, past the rope with the big no guests allowed sign?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sneak past,” he smirked slightly, “I heard the security here sucks.”

He was right, too. You got up there with absolutely no trouble whatsoever. 

All of the doors off the hallway were closed apart from one, at the very end. You took a gamble and slowly approached, peeking your head round to see Bucky perched on the edge of a huge bed. He shot up when he spotted you in the doorway.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird, it's the only room that wasn’t locked or, y’know… occupied.”

“Lovely.”

He nodded and gave you a smile. “You look great. Amazing, actually. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” his smile melted you a little, “mostly thanks to you.” 

“Ah, you would’a been fine, I just annoyed you into being fine a bit sooner.”

You nervously rubbed the back of your head, in disbelief at how quickly he’d broken through your thick wall of resentment. You scrambled around trying to gather up some of the bricks and rebuild but being in the presence of that slick motherfucker was making it really difficult. 

You gathered your thoughts, took a breath and spoke. 

“Buck, like I said downstairs, you don’t need to explain. Obviously making out with your clients is a fireable offence, I get that, so you had to leave. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“You think I left ‘cause of that? You think some shitty job is more important to me than you?”

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

“Jesus, I really am an asshole.” You gave him a confused frown as he reached out and took both of your hands in his. “Look, I couldn’t give a shit about this job, there’s bodyguarding positions everywhere and most of them don’t involve babysitting rich assholes. I left ‘cause I felt like I’d taken advantage of you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Huh?”

“You were in a bad place. You were vulnerable and I was supposed to be looking after you, not- y’know...”

“Sucking face?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Right, but you do remember that I’m not a child, yeah? Just because I’m feeling shitty doesn’t mean I can’t make decisions for myself.”

“But it does mean your judgement is at least a little impaired.”

“Fine, whatever, but it isn’t anymore.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’m telling you now as a fully sane, rational adult that you didn’t do anything wrong. Alright?”

A relieved smile spread across his face. “Alright.”

“Good, cause I made a decision and I’m sticking to it.

“Might be a bad decision.”

“Sometimes bad decisions are more fun.”

“You can say that again.”

Your second kiss with Bucky was, somehow, even better. He was more sure of himself this time, less cautious, he moved in quicker. You did the same, wrapping both arms around his neck and letting him take some of your weight. You felt him smile against you as a hand dived into the back of your hair.

Now this was a kiss worth being fired for. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “For the record, the first time wasn’t a mistake. It was a… happy accident.”

“Whatever you say,” you chuckled, “I’m just glad we bumped into each other again.”

“Oh, we didn’t. I took this job after checking the guestlist.”

“You sneaky fucker.”

“You know it.”

---

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[literaryavenger]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier - 3

Summary: You find out the truth about Fury and, after he brings you up to speed, you make plans to take down Hydra for good.

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader, platonic!Sam Wilson x F!Reader, platonic!Nick Fury x F!Reader, platonic!Maria Hill x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Pierce being a dick. Mentions of death. Mentions of fighting and fire arms. The Winter Soldier, he's a warning. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The ride is quiet until Steve, who was shocked into silence until this moment, says “It was him.”

You look at him on your right but his gaze is to the floor. “He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.”

“How's that even possible?” Sam says from in front of Steve. “It was, like, seventy years ago.”

“Zola.” Steve answers without skipping a beat. “Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…” he trails off, looking up at Sam.

“None of that's your fault, Steve.” Natasha says and you turn your attention on her.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” You're too busy looking at Natasha’s palling face to be sad for Steve.

“We need to get a doctor here.” You say, your eyes landing on the blood on her shoulder, which apparently Sam noticed too.

“We don't put pressure on that wound,” he says, turning to the agent next to him “she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

The guard pulls out an electric rod and looks like he's gonna use it on Sam but, suddenly, he pokes the other guard with it.

You're all so fucking confused until the guard takes out his helmet to reveal a groaning Maria Hill.

“That thing was squeezing my brain.” she looks at all of you while you let out a breath of relief, but she lands on Sam and then looks back at Steve, pointing at him. “Who’s this guy?”

“Long story” you say and, when she narrows her eyes at you, you roll your own. “I’m handcuffed too, I’m obviously on your side.” you say while raising your cuffed hands and raising an eyebrow.

She softens but relented only after receiving a nod from Steve, confirming what you're saying. 

She helps you escape and soon you're entering a seemingly abandoned facility, Natasha leaning on you for balance.

A man you recognize as one of the doctors that were operating on Fury runs towards you and you frown. 

What the hell’s going on?

“GSW. She’s lost at least a pint.” Hill says to the doctor.

“Maybe two.” Sam adds.

“Let me take her.” the doctor says, but Maria stops him.

“She’ll want to see him first.” she says while she leads the way, the doctor helping you carry Natasha. 

Hill takes you to a room where you’re all shocked to find Fury lying in a bed, alive.

“About damn time.” he says and you almost cry after hearing his voice.

You all sit down and, as the doctor starts to work on Natasha’s wound next to you, you all listen intently as Fury explains what’s going on.

“Lacerated spinal column,” he ends by listing his injuries “cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache.”

“Don't forget your collapsed lung.” the doctor says from Nat’s other side.

“Oh, let's not forget that.” Fury says sarcastically “Otherwise, I'm good.”

“They cut you open,” Natasha says, you knew she took it hard after all. “your heart stopped.”

“Tetrodotoxin B.” He says like it was obvious. “Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

“Why all the secrecy?” Steve voices what you're all thinking.

“Yeah.” you add, obviously hurt. “Why not just tell us?”

“Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful.” Hill answers for him.

“Can't kill you if you're already dead.” Fury seems amused with himself, then gets more serious. “Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust.”

You try not to take that too personally and, glancing at Natasha, you can tell when she meets your eyes that she's trying to do the same.

-

Fury gives you guys some time to process everything before you move to a room with a table to start strategizing on how to move forward.

“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize.” Fury says while looking at a picture of a young Pierce. “He said, Peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility. See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues.” He finishes looking at you guys.

“We have to stop the launch.” Natasha says, ignoring Fury’s last remark.

“I don't think the Council's accepting my calls anymore.” He says while opening a case containing three chips.

“What's that?” you and Sam ask at the same time, glancing at each other.

“Once the Helicarriers reach three thousand feet,” Hill says, turning her computer around and showing you “they'll triangulate with Insight satellites becoming fully weaponized.”

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own.” Fury cuts in.

“One or two won't cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational” she hesitates for a moment “a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We need to get past them, insert the server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what's left-” Fury gets cut off by Steve.

“We're not salvaging anything.” he says sharply. “We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We're taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with it.” Fury says defensively.

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends.” Steve has his Captain voice on and you know there's no room for discussion. “SHIELD's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”

“Why do you think we're meeting in this cave? I noticed.” Nobody else says anything, just watching back and forth from Fury to Steve.

“And how many paid the price before you did?”

“Look, I didn't know about Barnes.” Fury says after a moment.

“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?” He's almost glaring now. “SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.”

“He's right.” Hill simply says, nodding.

Fury looks at Natasha, but she simply stares back and he knows he’s not gonna have any help from her, so he turns to you.

“You’re okay with this, Agent?” he asks you and you don’t even have to think twice about it.

“We took an oath to protect people, Fury.” you tell him, holding his gaze. “If taking down Shield does that, and I believe it does, I’m game.” you shrug. 

He then turns to the last person in the room.

“Don't look at me.” Sam says, also shrugging. “I do what he does, just slower.”

You grin at him while Fury scoffs a little.

“Well,” He starts, sitting back and sighting, looking at all of you before staring back at Steve. “It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain.”

After you make our plan, Steve goes outside for some air. You and Sam watch him leave, then look at each other, a silent question hanging between you two.

“You go.” you tell him and he nods before following after the supersoldier.

When you turn around you’re met with Fury and Hill’s curious looks and Natasha’s smirking face.

“What?” you say annoyed, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.

“You and Wilson, huh.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Romanoff.” you tell her as you sit back down. “He’s a nice person, you know as well as I do how rare it is to find that in our line of work.” your gaze shifts to the table but you can still feel their gazes on you.

“You couldn’t have known, YN.” Fury says, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes snap up to his, he's never called you by your first name.

“I should’ve, Nick.” you exchange the favor. “All the closed meetings, all the shady attitudes… I should’ve seen it. I’m trained to see it.” you're frustrated with yourself, with all the adrenaline out of your body now you’re left only with guilt.

Surely if you’d have seen it sooner you could’ve done something. Maybe the outcome would’ve been different.

“They tricked all of us.” Nat says, glancing at Fury and resting her hand on your shoulder.

“You’re a good agent,” Hill interjects, “don’t doubt yourself because of those traitors.”

“You’re right.” You nodded after a moment, putting your hand on top of Nat’s on your shoulder and looking back at Fury. “You’re all right.”

As you finish the details of the plan, only one thing is missing.

“How do we get the Director there?” Hill asks after Sam joins you, informing you that Steve went looking for a uniform, whatever that means, and would meet you there.

“Uh, I have an idea.” you says, leaning back in your chair and smirking.

They all suit up and leave after making sure your comms work.

“Be careful.” you hug Natasha before they leave “All of you.” you add looking over her shoulder at Hill that nods and Sam that grins and then winks at you.

You go back to the room where Fury is and he asks, “So where’s our ride?”

“On its way.” you simply say, checking your phone.

You can hear the others through the comms as they meet up with Steve, his own voice coming to your ear as he puts his own earpiece in.

“Where’s Y/N?” he questions the team.

“Awe, you miss me already, Cap?” you say and can hear the other’s laughter.

“You wish.” you can practically hear his eyes rolling.

“I do wish.” you answer, laughing. “I’m with Fury, don’t worry we’ll be there in time.”

You’re both suited up too when you hear loud noises coming from outside, Fury gives you a confused look but you just smile and wiggle your eyebrows playfully as you lead the way to the roof.

A helicopter lands and the pilot gets out and makes his way towards you, shaking your hand before heading downstairs where a car is waiting for him. You make your way to the pilot’s seat and Fury takes the co-pilot’s seat.

“Where did you even get this?” He questions you after putting on the headphones while you start the helicopter, ready for take off.

“You’re not the only one with connections, Director.” you answer, glancing at him with a smile and can hear him laugh next to you.

The whole time you can hear the team’s conversation, everything’s going according to plan thankfully, and nobody’s gotten hurt yet.

Just as you hear Natasha say “don’t worry, company’s coming” to who you assume is Pierce you land the helicopter on the landing pad.

You and Fury make your way inside and Pierce is nothing short of surprised at seeing Fury alive, much to your delight.

“Did you get my flowers?” he says sarcastically and, when Fury only glares at him, he turns his attention to you. “Agent.”

“Asshole.” you greet him with a smile.

“I'm glad you're here, Nick.” he turns his attention back to him.

“Really? Cause I thought you had me killed.”

“You know how the game works.” Pierce says, as calm as a sociopath.

“So why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury has to know.

“Cause you were the best and the most ruthless person I ever met.”

“I did what I did to protect people.”

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder, war. It's just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow, or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action, a band-aid. And you know where I learned that?” He doesn’t give him time to answer, clearly enjoying his evil mastermind speech. “Bogota. You didn't ask, you just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of seven billion people by sacrificing twenty million. It's the next step, Nick, if you have the courage to take it.”

“No,” Fury says, taking Pierce to the retinal scanner, guns on him from both Nat and you “I have the courage not to.”

“Retinal scanner active.” the computer says.

“You don't think we wiped your clearance from the system?” Pierce says smugly.

“I know you erased my password, probably deleted my retinal scan, but if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary,” he takes off his eyepatch to reveal his scarred eye and you grimace. “you need to keep both eyes open.” 

They both look into the retinal scanner, with Fury using his injured eye.

“Alpha Level confirmed.” The computer says “Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed.”

You can hear Steve and Sam talking in your ear as you hold Pierce at gunpoint while Nat finishes uploading the files online.

Sam saying to Steve that he’s heavier than he looks makes you smile, Steve answering “I had a big breakfast” makes you almost snort because Sam made him that breakfast, but you stay professional.

You hear Sam apologizing to Steve after being grounded, his suit broken, and then Maria telling Sam that Rumow’s heading your way. Sam says he’s on it and then you hear Steve trying to plead with Bucky before he starts fighting him.

“Done.” Natasha finally says “And it's trending.”

Just then Pierce sets off the pins he gave the council members, causing it to burn a hole into them. You, Natasha and Fury point your guns at Pierce but he turns to Natasha.

“Unless you want a two inch hole in your sternum, I'd put that gun down.” Natasha doesn't back down though “That was armed the moment you pinned it on.” 

You all reluctantly lower your weapons.

You can hear Sam saying “Man, shut the hell up” and frown, then you hear him fighting probably with Rumlow and you sincerely hope Sam lands some good punches.

“Lieutenant, how much longer?” Pierce asks into his radio.

“Sixty-five seconds to satellite link. Targeting grid engaged. Lowering weapons array now.” you hear the response.

You hear Hill counting down too. “Thirty seconds, Cap!”

you can hear Steve get out a strangled “Stand by.”

You hear him struggle, then he says “Charlie-” but gets interrupted by a gunshot and you hold your breath, already imagining the worst and barely hearing Pierce talking into his radio.

Just as they’re about to give the order to fire you hear Steve again saying “Charlie locked.” and you feel like all three of you let out a breath of relief at the same time. Although your relief is short lived as you hear Steve telling Maria to fire.

You all look outside as the Helicarriers start going down.

“What a waste.” Pierce says, disgusted at the sight in front of him.

“Are you still on the fence about Rogers' chances?” Nat says as smugly as she can with an active weapon pinned to her chest, but Pierce is having none of it.

“Time to go, Councilwoman.” he grabs her arm “This way, come on. You're gonna fly me out of here.”

“You know, there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you.” Fury tells him as they start to leave.

“You already did.” Pierce glances back at him “You will again when it's useful.” before he can even finish the sentence Natasha activates a small disc that emits an electric shock through her whole body and disables the pin, giving you a chance to kick the phone out of Pierce’s hand while it reboots. 

Fury takes this time to pick up a gun and shoots twice at Pierce, then walks over to you as you kneel next to Natasha who’s unconscious on the floor.

“Romanoff!” he says “Natasha!”

“Tasha, come on!” you say desperately.

She slowly opens her eyes. “Ow.” she lets out, before looking up at you two. “Those really do sting.” 

You let out a breathless laugh and help her up, glancing back at Pierce dying behind you, a quiet ‘Hail HYDRA’ coming out of his mouth.

You help Natasha into the helicopter, before taking the pilot’s seat again, Fury next to you.

“Please, tell me you got that chopper in the air!” you hear Sam say.

“Sam, where are you?” Natasha asks him as you try to look around for him.

“41st floor, north-west corner!” he sounds like he’s out of breath.

“We're on it, stay where you are.” You say, making your way to him.

“Not an option!” You can hear him pant like he’s running and as you look up you see him jumping out a window, so you tilt the helicopter just enough to allow him to slide in through the door sideways, and then you straighten just as fast, getting out of there just in time as the whole building comes down.

“41st floor! 41st!” Sam yells once he’s caught his breath.

“It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!” You yell back at him while glancing behind you as he glares at you.

“Hill, where's Steve?” Natasha says in the comms “You got a location on Rogers?”

You fly around the wreckage, all of you trying to locate Steve although it feels almost impossible with all the damage left by the Helicarriers. 

How can you find him? How could he even be alive after not only that fall, but all of the pieces still falling from the sky? He could’ve been knocked out, he could be at the bottom of the Pontomac, slowly drowning-

“There!” Sam interrupts your pessimistic thoughts as he yells and points at a figure along the shore of the river. “That’s him!”

You land as close as him as you can, running out with Sam beside you, Nat and Fury a little behind. As you get close you see that it is indeed Steve, kudos to Sam for his falcon eyes. 

The more you get close the more you worry, he looks bloody and beaten. When you’re finally kneeling next to him, you’re praying that he’s alive.

Sam’s hand flies to his neck and you can tell he lets out a relieved sigh, before turning to you. “He’s got a pulse.” he says and you mirror his action.

You pick him up together and take him to the helicopter, placing him inside while Nat takes the pilot’s seat this time and goes straight to the hospital.

-

With Steve being in the hospital and Fury being technically dead, the joy of being summoned at a committee hearing falls on you and Natasha. After being sworn in, the Committee General asks the first question.

“Why haven't we yet heard from Captain Rogers?” You and Natasha look at each other and she answers.

“We don't know what there is left for him to say. I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently.”

“Well, he could explain how this country's expected to maintain its national security now that he, and you, have laid waste to our intelligence apparatus.”

“HYDRA was selling you lies, not intelligence.” you interject.

“Many of which you both seem to have had a personal hand in telling.” you hate to admit it but he’s got you there.

“Agents, you should know that there are some on this committee who feel, given your service record, both for this country” Scudder then looks directly at Nat “and against it, that you belong in a penitentiary, not mouthing off on Capitol Hill.” he says and it takes everything in you not to snap at him as you clench your jaw.

Natasha can see it in your face as you look at each other, so she goes ahead and talks first.

“You're not gonna put me in a prison.” her eyes are still on you “You're not gonna put any of us in a prison. You know why?” You know she's asking you to finish her sentence.

“Do enlighten us.”

“Because you need us.” you say without missing a beat, looking away from Natasha and directly into the man’s eyes. “Yes, the world is a vulnerable place, and yes, we help make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it.”

“So if you want to arrest us, arrest us.” Nat says after a pause.

“You'll know where to find us.” you finish. 

You both get up and walk out, exchanging a small smile that's quickly hidden for the benefit of the cameras.

-

A few hours later you and Natasha get to the cemetery just as Fury’s walking away, smirking at each other when you catch the end of his sentence.

“You should be honored, gentlemen.” you say as you get closer.

“That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you.” Natasha finishes for you.

“Not going with him?” Steve asks you as he meets you halfway.

“No.” you both say at the same time.

“Not staying here?” only Natasha answers this time.

“Nah. I blew all my covers,” she glances at you “I gotta go figure out a new one.”

“That might take a while.” he points out.

“I'm counting on it.” She smiles. “That thing you asked for, I called in a few favors from Kiev.” She hands Steve a file. “Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse.”

“She's not a nurse.”

“And you're not a SHIELD agent.” you say and he smiles.

“What was her name again?” he asks.

“Sharon.” Natasha says and you add. “She's nice.”

Natasha kisses Steve on the cheek, hugs you and when she turns to walk away, he looks at you.

“Your face looks better.” you notice. “Well, as good as it can look, considering...” you trail off vaguely motioning to his face with a fake disgusted look and he laughs.

“Yeah, the serum can only do so much.” you laugh too, but then you hear Natasha and you both turn to her.

“Be careful, Steve.” she tells to him “You might not want to pull on that thread.” 

And with that, she’s gone.

“You’re not going with Nat?” he asks you as you turn back to him.

“I figured you might need a hand.” you nod to the file in his hand and Steve opens it as Sam walks up to you guys while you steal a glance yourself at the photo of Sergeant Barnes in it.

“You're going after him.” Sam says and it's not a question, it's a statement.

“You don't have to come with me.” He says, his eyes on the file.

“I know.” Sam says, after a moment of silence you finally look away from the photo of 40s Bucky and you see both men looking at you expectantly.

“Chasing a 96 year old brainwashed assassin?” you says, a smile starting to grow on your face “Sounds fun.” you state and Steve nods.

“Really?” Sam deadpans. “What are your weekends like, YLN?”

You only smirk at him in response, then you both turn your attention back to Steve, his eyes back on the file.

“So,” Sam says, “when do we start?”

#bucky barnes #avengers x reader #sam wilson #steve rogers #clint barton #natasha romanoff #avengers x platonic!reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu #nick fury #marvel #maria hill #captain america #captain america the winter soldier #captain america: the winter soldier #the winter soldier #shield #hydra #brock rumlow #alexander pierce

[whatsthepointinaname]

SHADOW

summary: After the incident things were looking pretty bleak, but the one thing you thought would make everything worse ended up saving you.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of guns and gun violence

Author’s Note: So I wrote a one shot because I cannot, for the life of me, stick to a consistent writing schedule. Enjoy!

---

You never expected anyone to feel sorry for you. That had been a pretty consistent theme throughout your life, why would anyone feel bad for the kid who got everything they asked for? Granted, the only thing in your past that might have sparked an ounce of pity were trivial, like a broken ankle or a bad break up, but even after this mess you never expected much.

It'd been a few months now since it happened, either two or three, you weren't sure exactly- enough time for seemingly everyone you'd ever met to show up and implore you to tell the story over and over again. One or two of them did appear genuinely concerned but you couldn't shake the feeling that most of them just wanted the gossip, desperate for anything to make them the most interesting person in the room at their next garden party or champagne brunch or ambassador's reception. Every single painful, repetitive, disingenuous conversation you had to sit through served as a further reminder of why you’d left this life behind as soon as you had the chance. Now you were stuck back here for god knows how much longer, and everything just felt bleak.

A soft knock rapped against your bedroom door. You didn't bother answering, they'd just let themselves in, they always did. The knob turned and the door creaked open, your father's timid face peering in.

"Are you busy?" it was nice of him to ask, but it was also unnecessary, because you hadn’t left your couch to do anything other than pee in weeks. “Your aunt Carol is here. She brought you some gifts, I thought it might make you feel better.”

Both of you knew very well that it would have the opposite effect, the only thing you'd ever resented your mother for was bringing that vapid bitch into your life. Well, that and accidentally letting slip that the tooth fairy wasn’t real on your third birthday. 

Carol careered round the door and past your father in her typical pantomime dame dress and makeup. You smirked, thinking to yourself that, in dimmer light and with some sinister music, it would've made an excellent scene for a horror film. Ever since your mother passed she’d been sniffing around the house more and more, you were convinced she was trying to seduce your dad to get his money but you couldn't prove it. Thankfully, he had enough sense to stay the hell away from her.  

"oh, look at you poor thing. you look awful." she clunked the wrapped box and card she was holding down on the table and joined you on the couch, her offensive perfume making you nose to begin to itch. “Come on, auntie Carol is here for you now, tell me everything darling.”

You gave your father, who was standing by the door looking very apologetic, a harsh glare.

“There's not much to tell. Dad was mid-speech when some guy in the audience stood up, next thing I knew he was getting tackled and there was a loud bang. I look down and I'm bleeding.”

"Oh my, Who was he?"

“Just some crazy, nationalist, militia guy targeting politicians, apparently. They have no idea if he was alone or with a group so it’s safer for me to stay here for now. My apartment is too much of a risk.”

“Bless you. It's so difficult being in the public eye, but you are so brave.” She pointed down to your stomach, “and don't worry, I've got some magic serum that'll clear up any unsightly scars ready for bikini season. I'll send you my diet plan, too.”

You turned the dial up on the daggers you were shooting your father every time she looked away, and he finally took the hint.

"Okay, carol. We should let her rest now."

“Alright, love you so much baby. Look after yourself, okay? Maybe run a comb through your hair or something. Very frizzy.”

You rolled your eyes at her back as she left and reached over to grab the card. There was a sad puppy on the front, sitting beneath the words sorry you’re having a hard time. You figured that Hallmark probably didn't stock a sorry you got shot by a psychopath card.

your father was lingering. he never lingered.

"Everything okay, dad?"

“Yes. Although, there is something I need to tell you.”

"Go on."

"I've hired someone."

"Right."

For you,” he noted your confusion, “to protect you.”

"A bodyguard?"

“No, he's not a bodyguard.” You raised an eyebrow. “He's not just a bodyguard.”

"The hell does that mean?"

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he strode over and took a seat beside you, preparing himself with a deep breath. This was serious. 

“The last time you saw Dr Burke she recommended that we… don't leave you on your own too much. So, he's going to be looking out for your welfare, going to be spending time with you.”

“Ah, I see. Suicide watch. Great.”

“I’m worried about you. You barely eat, you don't move from that spot, you haven’t showered for weeks. I know you miss being in your own place but,” he put his hand on top of yours, “I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t lose you too.”

Well, that hit you like a punch in the gut.

“Okay, dad. If you think it’ll help.”

“I do.” He stood up, giving you a light kiss on the top of your head before turning to leave. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

---

You were woken from a light sleep by another knock on the door. The only thing you hadn’t been struggling with recently was sleep, it was the only way you could make your days pass quicker.

Again, the door creaked open before you answered. Your dad stepped in followed by a man you assumed to be your new long-term babysitter. You’d expected someone more stern looking, someone dressed like an extra from Men in Black, but he just looked like a normal guy. He had a strong face, broad shoulders and deep brown hair. If you’d been in a different state of mind you might even have considered him attractive, but you were far too tired for anything like that.

“Sweetheart, this is-” Your father looked blankly over to his companion, obviously already having forgotten his name.

“James. Nice to meet you.”

You mustered a faint smile. There was a brief, awkward silence as your father’s eyes flicked from you back to the composed looking guest, whose huge arms were folded over his chest. 

“Well, uh- I have a call in a few minutes. I suppose I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he clapped a hand on James’ back, “just let me know if you need anything.”

Then, just like that, you were alone with a complete stranger. Your eyes stayed firmly fixed to the movie you’d slept through half of but were suddenly incredibly interested in. You heard James shuffle forwards, his broad frame eventually scooching into the edge of your vision.

“Look, I get it. You’re a grown-ass adult, I wouldn’t like having some stranger keeping an eye on me all the time either. If you want, I can just stick to the corner, stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”

That actually sounded like a pretty sweet deal, but you’d feel incredibly guilty having him perched on the other side of the room like a piece of furniture. The least you could do was be a little friendly.

“That’s alright, you can have the comfy seat,” you faintly motioned your head towards the nearby armchair, “but I’ll be shitty company.”

He happily settled himself in. “Makes no odds to me, I’m getting paid to be here.”

A short breathy chuckle escaped your lips, taking you by surprise. It’d been a long while since someone had made you laugh, all the conversations you’d had in the past few weeks had been unbelievably morbid and condescending, most of them with people you had no interest in talking to in the first place.

A couple of silent hours passed. You‘d gotten so used to being alone that you kept forgetting he was there, the odd cough or movement making you jump out of your skin. Eventually, Elaine pounded on the door and announced that she’d brought dinner up for both of you, so James jumped up and helped her with the cart.

Elaine was your father’s housekeeper and the only thing that had prevented him dying of starvation or exposure since your mom died. She was kind and patient, you liked her alot. Her food was always incredible, you felt awful for barely eating it over the last few weeks but the pain from your stomach wound combined with zero expenditure of energy had just killed your appetite.

James looked from his plate over to yours, his knife and fork poised. "you not eating?"

"im not hungry"

"when's the last time you ate anything?"

Someone had been talking to dad.

You shrugged, "This morning, I think"

"Bullshit.” Your eyes snapped in his direction. “You know you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat, right? You’ll just have to put up with me bugging you for even longer.”

"Thought you were gonna stay out my way?"

“Mostly.” His mouth curled into a faint smile. “How about this, you eat a couple bites, I’ll eat the rest and we’ll tell your dad you ate the whole thing.”

You considered for a second. Not a bad offer, getting your dad off your back for a while would be pretty great. You knew what game he was playing but you were more than willing to play too just as long as the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.

"Deal."

You expended a tremendous amount of effort leaning yourself forward and grabbing the plate, feeling James’ gaze tunnelling into the side of your face as the two of you began to eat. You had to admit, you enjoyed the food much more than you’d expected, half the plate had gone before you felt full. James looked pretty smug while finishing off the rest of it.

The sky outside slowly turned dark and you could feel yourself getting sleepy, so you settled deeper into the couch for your third sleep of the day.

“Hey,” James leant forward in his seat, “you need help getting to your bed or anything?”

“Oh, no, I’m good. I usually just sleep here.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “There? Is that comfortable? Can’t be good for your back.”

“Probably isn’t, but I don’t have the energy to move.”

“You don’t need the energy,” he sprung up from his seat, “you’ve got me.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, James had an arm anchored around your upper back and was inching you upwards, away from the safety of your sad-zone and onto your feet. A few mild pangs of pain shot through your stomach but it wasn’t enough to make you fight back, so you just gave in, relaxed into his grip and let him walk you across the room.

Your mattress was unbelievably comfortable and you felt knot after knot untying in your back as you stretched out flat, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Who was this magical asshole, anyway, showing up and suddenly knowing what would help you better than you did?

“I’m just gonna crash on that armchair, if that’s all good with you.”

“There?” You carefully rolled onto your side so you were facing away from him. “Can’t be good for your back.”

A deep chuckle came from behind you. “Smartass. Shout me if you need to go to the bathroom or anything.”

You just grunted, already half asleep. It was only another minute or so before you drifted off peacefully and got the best night of rest you’d had in weeks.

Maybe this babysitting thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

You woke to the sound of soft snoring on the other side of the room. Light was bleeding in around the curtains and you could hear footsteps in the corridor, probably your father heading downstairs for his coffee and newspaper. Coming to your senses, you rolled over and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pee. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over to see James’ limp hand hanging over the edge of the armchair. 

You didn’t need him, you could do this. 

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and hoisting yourself up was easier than expected but that, unfortunately, made you a little overconfident for the rest of the journey. After a couple of steps the pain started. You felt pathetic but that amount of effort had actually winded you, all you could do was lower yourself to the ground to catch your breath. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t even realise he’d woken up, you were too busy wheezing. 

“Gotta pee.” You managed to push your words out between gulped in breaths.

“What did I say last night, huh? You should’a yelled.” He lowered himself beside you, placing one arm around your back and one under your knees. “Alright, brace yourself.”

“Wait, what are you-”

You choked on your words when he lifted you clean off the floor, a feat that not many had accomplished in the past. He offered to take you as far as the toilet itself but you adamantly refused, determined to cling onto your last shred of dignity while just about managing to shuffle over there, supporting yourself on the sink. 

You washed your hands and intentionally avoided looking in the mirror, moving straight over to the door and finding your minder stood directly outside.

He folded his arms. “While you’re here, why not take a quick shower?”

“I’m not supposed to get my dressings wet.”

“Again, nice try, but you really gotta do better than that to bullshit me.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me rot away in peace?”

“I mean, I could, but I’m pretty sure your dad would refuse to pay me.”

“I’ll pay you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t afford me, honey.” He smirked and slipped past you. “I’ll get the water going.”

James turned the shower on and put some folded towels by the sink before heading back into your room and gathering some clean pyjamas. You just stayed where you were, leaning against the counter, as he buzzed around like an overexcited child.

“You’re all set. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thank you, supernanny.”

He flipped you the bird. You laughed and locked the door.

Slowly, carefully, you got undressed, removed your bandages and placed them in the bin. You then had to perch yourself down on the closed toilet seat for a brief break before climbing into the shower. Standing under the water, you looked down at your wound for the first time in weeks, finding yourself amazed at how quickly it had healed. You ran your fingers over it. Never in a million years did you think you’d have a healed gunshot wound anywhere on your body. You thought back to what your aunt said, maybe it was unsightly, it certainly looked weird from this ang-

“You alright?”

James’ overbearing voice snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Yes.”

You turned off the shower and stepped out, lifting a towel to your face and savouring the feeling of finally being clean again. You couldn’t imagine how bad you must’ve smelled before. You pulled on the fresh pyjamas before taking a deep breath and wiping down the mirror, getting a nasty shock when you saw yourself. It looked like all the life had been drained out of you. Your face looked pallid, red eyes sitting above deep, dark bags while skin flaked from your chapped lips. Your hair was still dripping wet but you could tell that weeks of neglect had taken a toll on it.

It seemed like James might’ve come along just in time, any longer sitting in that misery pit and these changes might’ve become irreversible.

“Still all good?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, just trying to remember the most efficient way to cut wrists. Is it horizontal or vertical?”

Throwing your towel in the laundry basket, you opened the door to see a very unamused looking man. 

“Real funny.”

He didn’t get a chance to properly scold you before Elaine knocked on the door with breakfast, a smug grin settling on your face as it dawned on him that he probably shouldn’t cuss you out in front of your father’s closest confidante. 

The two of you settled into your designated spots. James immediately started digging into the plate that had been piled high for him but you held off, it had been a while since you stood up for that long and you needed to recover. Sharp pangs of stomach pain weren’t exactly the perfect accompaniment to a hearty appetite.

James placed his fork down on the table and leaned back in his chair, mouth full of food. “We gotta do this again, buttercup?”

“I just need a minute.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“We did,” a bolt of inspiration struck as you realised it was your turn to get a little something interesting out of this relationship, “but I want to change it up a bit.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I’ll eat if you tell me the most insane thing that’s happened to you while bodyguarding.”

“I really shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Shame,” you dramatically pushed your plate away with a flourish, “I was actually feeling pretty hungry.”

He considered, glaring at you from beneath an arched eyebrow and rhythmically tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Fine, but you gotta finish the whole plate.”

“The whole plate.”

“Alright.” 

He leant forward again and carried on eating so you followed suit, forcing down one small bite at a time and just hoping that his story would be worth the pain.

“So, one time some rich dude hired me ‘cause his daughter was worried she had a stalker. Apparently she kept seeing someone in a black hoodie following her around, she even saw ‘em standing on their lawn a few times. Thing is, no-one else had ever seen it. I think half the reason I was hired was to figure out if she was just going crazy.”

“Was she?”

“Be patient, pumpkin. You’ll find out.” Your cheeks flushed a little when he called you that. “A couple weeks passed and I hadn’t seen anything. Then, middle of the night, everyone else was asleep and I was doing my rounds. I looked out the window to the yard and there was someone standing underneath her window in a black hoodie.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. So, obviously, I sprinted down there, but they spotted me and started running. They vaulted the fence and I would’a lost ‘em in the trees but they got snagged on the other side. I grabbed ‘em, pulled down the hood and-” He eyed the huge fork-full of food you were hovering by your mouth, “you wanna eat that?”

You rolled your eyes, shoved it all in your face and let out a muffled plea. “And?”

“It was her, the daughter.”

“Fuck off.”

“Dead serious. Turns out one of her friends had a stalker and was getting a load of sympathy and attention because of it, so she got jealous and made up one of her own. She figured if I saw it just once everyone would believe her.”

“That’s so fucked. Is that even legal?”

“No idea, not my job. I got my paycheck and left the next morning.”

“Nice to know you really care about your clients.”

He laughed. “Most of my clients are spoiled assholes who never even bother to learn my name.”

“Really? Can’t be hard to learn a name as simple as Justin.” You received your second unamused scowl of the day. “Anyway, we spoiled brats have enough on our plate without having to learn the name of the person willing to take a bullet for us.”

“Nah, you’re not spoiled.”

“You think?”

“Trust me, I’ve seen spoiled. You’re not spoiled. I think you’re the only client I’ve actually enjoyed talking to.”

Interesting. Probably shouldn’t delve into that statement too deeply.

“I’d take that as a compliment but it sounds like there isn’t much competition.”

He smirked, staying silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “My friends call me Bucky, by the way. I prefer it to James. And I really prefer it to Justin.”

“If you insist,” you shrugged, “but I still think you’d make a good Timberlake.”

---

You managed to stomach a good amount of food that day and you even had a good stab at breakfast when the next day rolled around, so you hoped that Bucky might leave you to your own devices for a while now he’d got his own way.

He did not.

As soon as you’d swallowed the last mouthful of toast he announced that he was going to take you on a walk around the garden.

You looked from him to your stomach, then back at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We’ll take it slow, one step at a time, and it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

“Can’t we just open a window?”

“Nope.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair and jumped to his feet. “C’mon sweetheart, you know I’m just gonna annoy the hell out of you until you agree.”

“Is threatening me allowed in your contract?”

“It’s not a threat. It’s persuasion with consequences.”

You eventually relented. He was super keen to get going but it soon became clear that he’d overestimated how far along the healing process you were, it took the two of you almost an hour just to get out of your bedroom and down the stairs with all the constant stopping for breath. Bucky went ahead and pulled open the sliding glass door, your mood instantly lifting when the first breeze of fresh air washed over you. You were starting to hate how often he was right. 

He offered you his arm and set a bench on the other side of the lawn as your goal. The neatly mowed grass felt soft between your toes, the faint sounds of birds and planes overhead helping you relax a great deal more than the constant background noise from the TV you’d kept switched on for weeks now. When you reached your goal, Bucky helped you lower yourself onto the seat and carefully squeezed himself beside you once you were settled. Sitting this close to him felt strange, you were used to him being confined to his armchair, and the bench was a pretty small one. His thigh was pressed up against yours. You tried not to think about it.

Deeply inhaling the smell of grass and flowers into your lungs made you feel like a new person but it was also making you a little drowsy, the journey down had zapped all your energy and the warmth from the morning sun was cosy and soothing. 

The next thing you remembered was your head being gently nudged, prompting your eyes to flicker open. 

“Sorry, princess. I’d let you sleep for hours but I really need to pee.”

You came to your senses and felt the crook of Bucky’s neck against the top of your head. His arm was around you, hand gently resting on your shoulder. 

“Shit, sorry.” In your embarrassment you sat up a little too quickly, wincing at the pain that shot through your stomach. 

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just, y’know, the ol’ bullet would.” You laughed off his concern and waved him away. “Go pee.”

“Alright, I’ll just be a minute, don’t move.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

He was already sprinting across the lawn when he shouted back. “That’s the spirit, sunshine.”

You shot a giddy grin at the back of his head. It still felt like morning but you had no idea how long you’d been knocked out for, you just knew you could very easily spend every night resting in Bucky’s neck like that.

---

Your shadow had been with you for about a week now and, contrary to all initial expectations, you’d actually been enjoying his company. He could be annoying as hell with his constant demands pushing you further and further when all you wanted to do was melt into the couch, but you could see that he was good for you. You supposed that being forced to spend every second of every day with someone gave you no choice but to recognize their good qualities. Thankfully, he seemed to have a lot of those. 

Elaine had just collected the dishes from lunch and Bucky had somehow stolen the remote from you. He flicked on some appallingly trashy reality show, your concentration faded in and out but every time you forced yourself to pay attention someone was either screaming or necking. 

You’d barely even registered the knock at your bedroom door when he jumped up and launched himself towards it like the diligent little soldier he was. You listened intently, your stomach turning when you heard Carol’s voice interspersed with his. Hopefully he’d assess her as a security threat and slam the door in her stupid face.

To your great disappointment, he did not. 

“Oh my,” she looked a little more like a painted old hag than a pantomime dame today, “who is that and where can I get one?”

“That’s James, dad hired him to keep an eye on me.”

“Do you know which agency he’s with?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t uncle Frank leave you the house and the security guard in his will?”

“Ugh, yes but he could’ve been a bit more thoughtful. I’d rather not have to look at that beer belly every time I drive through the front gate.”

“I see.”

You tried to plead for help from Bucky with your eyes but he was too busy giving a confused look to the back of her embroidered jacket, the one that you were convinced had been made from old curtains and lampshade tassels. She placed herself down in his seat, leaving him bewildered, turning on the spot like a glitched out video game NPC. He eventually just sat beside you. 

“So,” she crossed her veiny old legs, “did you like the present I brought you before?”

You did not like the present she brought you before. It was a self help book whose blurb encouraged you to 'break free from your own mental cage' and 'start being the best version of you'. That mindset is incredibly toxic, Carol. Therapists and antidepressants exist for a reason, Carol. Not everyone can make themselves feel better by getting sloppy wine drunk on their dead husband's money every evening, Carol.

“Yeah, it was great. Thanks.”

“I knew you'd love it, so I brought you something else.” She scurried around in her comically oversized purse for a while before pulling out a small white tub. “It's that miracle balm I told you about, for the scar.” 

She noiselessly mouthed the word scar and covered the side of her mouth so Bucky couldn't see, like it was a dirty word, like she couldn't bear to think of the handsome man in the room knowing about such an ugly thing. 

“Oh right, thanks but I'm not really supposed to put anything on it while it's still healing. Could get infected.” 

“No honey, if you let that thing heal on its own you'll regret it, trust me.”

“Well, the doctor said-”

“Baby, look at me.” The legs became uncrossed as she leaned in. “I'm going to be honest now because I love you. Your body is a five out of ten, maybe a six if you did a cleanse.” 

“Right…”

“Now, with this hideous thing sitting on your stomach, you're down to a three. I don't want that for you, do you?”

You were speechless for a second. The words fuck off were just beginning to form in your mouth when she cut you off, turning her attention to the equally pissed looking Bucky.

“How about a man's perspective, hmm? You wouldn't want a partner with something so ghastly on them, would you?”

The calmness with which he answered her was pretty impressive.

“Well, to be honest, I couldn't give a fuck, cause I tend to rate personality higher. Like you, for example, are two out of ten but with a few lessons in grace and courtesy, I could see you moving up to a solid five.”

Your mouth fell open. The breath hitched in your lungs as your eyes flicked between the two of them, one looking outraged, the other looking very fucking pleased with himself. The silence was tense. 

After a few seconds she leapt up and stormed out of the room, her heels rapidly clicking against the floor while she screeched your father's name. 

Bucky just shrugged at you. “Guess her own medicine didn’t taste too sweet.”

“That was amazing.”

“I'm used to dealing with assholes like that,” he followed her lead, standing up and heading for the door, “but, unlucky for her, I'm in charge of who gets access to this room.”

“You can ban her?”

“If I think she's causing you harm I can do whatever I want.”

“You’re my new favourite person.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

He’d been gone for a while when some muffled shouting started downstairs. Too invested in the situation not to investigate, you decided to slide yourself off the couch and press your ear to the floor in an effort to make out the words. It didn’t work, obviously, and you soon realised there was no way in hell you’d be able to hoist yourself back up again. You just had to wait on the ground while your dignity slowly drained away piece by piece.

Bucky eventually returned, predictably freaking out when he spotted you.

“Shit, what happened? Did you fall?”

“No I kinda… slid.” He gave you a puzzled look while lifting you back onto the couch. “Sorry, I was trying to hear the argument. What happened?”

“She won't be bothering you again.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Can I keep you forever?” You rested your head against the couch cushions. “I’ll let you watch as much trash TV as you want.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

---

A week passed and then another, and with each day you were achieving more and more. Bucky had you showering every day, eating three square meals and taking increasingly lengthy walks around the garden- when your painkillers were doing their job. He’d even spoken to your father about making sure everyone in the house waited for a response after knocking on your door. It sounded like an insignificant thing but you really valued every ounce of privacy you could get your hands on, and it did wonders for improving your mood. 

Another thing that was helping in that regard was spending most of your downtime just talking with him. On more than a few occasions you’d actually forgotten he was being paid to stick around, it felt more like you were hanging out with an old friend. 

Sometimes it felt like you were hanging out with more than a friend but, every time those feelings started to surface, you quickly pushed them back down into the dark depths in your mind. Acknowledging them would just set you up for inevitable disappointment. 

Today, you’d agreed to leave your father’s property for the first time since the incident. Bucky had offered to take you out for a coffee as a soft reintroduction back into the normal world. He drove you out in his ridiculously oversized SUV, passing plenty of perfectly good coffee shops so he could show you his favourite one. It didn’t look like anything special but you trusted him. 

He helped you to one of the outside tables, took your order and shuffled inside, giving you a wink over the top of his sunglasses. You rested your hands on the table and glanced around. The street was busy with people and cars and most of the other tables were full, it was midday so you figured most of them were working people taking their lunch breaks.

Then, just for a second, out of the corner of your eye you saw someone in the street stop. Looking over, you made brief eye contact with them before they checked their watch and continued walking. Why were they looking at you? Your eyes darted around the other faces passing by, your panic starting to rise when another of them looked your way. 

You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your palms prickling with sweat. The quickening pace of your heart made it harder and harder to pull breath into your lungs, all the muscles in your legs started to tense and your vision blurred at the edges. 

“You okay?”

Two takeout cups were hastily abandoned on the table in front of you and a soothing hand landed on your back, Bucky’s face trying to make its way into your line of sight.

“Mhmm.”

“I told you not to bullshit me. What happened?”

“Nothing, really. I just-” You pulled in a stuttering breath. “Need to adjust.”

“Pretty hard to do that when you’re mid panic attack, no? C’mere.”

He turned you round to face him and took you through some breathing exercises, helping you get back in control. The worst of the storm eventually passed but you were pretty shaken up, and he could tell.

“Maybe this was too soon.”

“No, this is good. It probably would’ve happened even if we'd waited longer. Better to get it out of the way.”

“And what if the coffee had taken another ten minutes? You would’a just passed out while I was waiting for fucking milk to foam.”

He seemed angry, but not at you. 

“It’s okay, Buck. Really. I could’ve been hit by a truck on the walk over from the car but wasn’t, so why worry about it.”

“Still, we should get you somewhere less crowded,” he took you by the hand, which was unusual, cause he usually just guided you with a flat palm on the back, “probably should’ve started with that.”

You headed back to the car, Bucky somehow juggling you along with two hot drinks, and drove a few miles out of the city. He said he knew of a short, flat hiking trail out in the woods that was only ever busy on weekends. It wasn’t exactly the reintroduction into society that the two of you had planned but, at the very least, it was a step above walks around the yard. 

He calmed down once you began walking, the jolly, laid back, Bucky that you were used to quickly resurfacing. It was a huge relief, him being on edge made you on edge and that wasn’t exactly the optimum mood for avoiding another panic attack. 

He kept a firm arm around you most of the way, anchoring you to him and protecting you against potential falls. You were pretty sure they were the only reasons.

“I must look fucking dreadful,” you chuckled, “if we bump into anyone they’ll probably think you just found me in the woods.”

“Shut up, you look great.”

“For a three-week-old corpse.”

“A corpse wouldn’t argue back so much.”

“I’m just keeping you on your toes.”

“Damn right you are.”

You smiled to yourself, hearing the warmth in his voice, and decided now was a good time to finally ask him a question you’d been thinking about for a while.

“So, you’ve really never had another client you’ve enjoyed talking to? Not even one?”

“Not that I can remember.” He shrugged slightly. “Why are you so surprised, anyway? We both know how many assholes there are out there.”

“True. I just think you’re easy to talk to, I guess. I’m surprised no-one else made the effort.”

“That’s sweet of you doll, but you should know that just letting me sit by you was completely new for me. I usually don’t even get a chair, never mind a conversation.”

“Brutal. I’m glad the shelter rehomed you with us.”

“Me too.” 

You laughed for a second before realising that all this talking had used up your pitiful lung capacity. You came to a stop, Bucky quickly moving to stand in front of you. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, I could just use a break.”

“Take as long as you need,” he placed his hands on your upper arms, “we can sit for a while if you want.”

“I’m good.”

Without thinking, you placed both hands on his chest to steady yourself, immediately realising that it was kind of a weird thing to do. Your eyes shot up to his but he was just smiling softly, seemingly unbothered. 

The two of you held that position for what felt like an age. 

Then, slowly, cautiously, his hands moved down to rest on your lower back, just above your hips. He stepped in closer and your hands tensed, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. He lowered his head, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. You eagerly reciprocated, curling a hand around the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to keep him there as long as you could. It fell, however, when he abruptly pulled away, your arms going limp at your sides.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, I-”

“It’s not. Jesus, I’m supposed to be looking after you.” He rubbed his eyes. “We should get back.”

“Can you just wait for a second? I’m not-”

“No.” He was stern, he’d never talked to you like that before. “We’re going back to the car, now.”

You were too shocked to argue. The walk back was tense and the drive home was the same, you looked over at him a few times but his stony expression encouraged you to keep quiet. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had he in your eyes, but you really had to keep reminding yourself of that. It felt like you’d committed a crime. 

Once home, you headed up to your room but he didn’t follow, which was unusual. When your father knocked on your door later and told you that Bucky had removed himself from duty, you weren’t surprised. He claimed that a big job had come up out of nowhere. 

He never even said goodbye.

---

You hadn’t so much as heard from Bucky since he left over a month ago. You’d maintained all his rituals and kept your healing process on track, adapting your daily walks so you could do them alone, sticking nearby walls and railings. It was a real struggle, emotionally and physically, but you were determined not to let him abandoning you knock you off course. You didn’t even let yourself cry when he left. You were just angry. 

So, naturally, when a chance for you to prove to yourself how far you’d progressed without him came around, you jumped at it. A friend of your father’s was throwing a birthday party for his daughter, you’d never been able to stand her but you hadn’t had a proper drink since the incident- and the booze there would be insanely expensive stuff. Plus, you’d been pining for any excuse to wear something other than pyjamas.

You strolled into the party, arm in arm with your father, and you felt good. You felt ready to be there. That was, until you saw who was working security detail. You barely recognised him in the full black bodyguard suit, you were so used to a t-shirt and jeans, but it was definitely him. Your evening was instantly ruined as you started mentally plotting the best way to avoid him.

You decided a good first step was to head straight to the bathroom to compose yourself, giving yourself the same pep talk in the mirror that you’d given the day after he left. You’d come too far to let him fuck up your first big outing. You dabbed the nervous sweat from your upper lip, adjusted your outfit and gave yourself a nod. You could do this. You just needed to stay away.

Wandering back into the party, you looked around for your father, the only person in the room you had any interest in talking to. You heard your name being called over the music and turned towards it. There he was, standing beside Bucky, beckoning you over. 

So your plan was fucked, then. 

Your stomach tightened. You grabbed a drink from a nearby table and moved over reluctantly.

“There you are. Listen, James was just telling me about the big job he was called to, it sounds incredibly interesting.”

“Oh, really?” 

You took a big gulp of champagne, wondering if Bucky’s fictitious story was as good as the real one he’d told you over breakfast that time. Or maybe that one was all made up, too. You glanced over and accidentally caught his eye for a second, but he quickly broke away and looked back at your father. 

“I probably shouldn’t go into any more detail.”

“Of course not, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble.” You involuntarily scoffed at your father’s words but managed to play it off as a cough. “It’s such a shame, though. You two seemed to really be getting on well together.” 

Your father looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching a tennis match, unaware of how painfully awkward the lingering silence was. You finished off your champagne and grabbed a fresh glass from a passing waiter, looking around the room for any excuse to leave this conversation. Unfortunately, your father found one first. 

“Ah, there’s the birthday girl, I’d better go pass on some well wishes. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

You cringed as he walked away. Quickly deciding that it was better to not even attempt conversation, you just silently nodded at Bucky and turned to leave. You didn’t get far, however, as he grabbed hold of your arm and stepped towards you. 

“Can we talk?”

You were incredibly shocked but tried to play it off. “I guess."

“In private?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you glared down at his hand, “but I would like it if you let go of my arm.”

“Sorry.” 

He released his grip and you took a small step away, putting a safe distance between your faces. You were still pissed off at him, that much was for sure, but you weren’t ready to trust yourself being in such close proximity to him again. Anything could happen. 

“I get why you’re pissed at me, I would be too. I just need to explain.”

“I know why you did what you did, Buck. You don’t need-”

“Please. Someone’s taking over my shift in ten minutes, will you meet me upstairs?”

“Upstairs? Like, past the rope with the big no guests allowed sign?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sneak past,” he smirked slightly, “I heard the security here sucks.”

He was right, too. You got up there with absolutely no trouble whatsoever. 

All of the doors off the hallway were closed apart from one, at the very end. You took a gamble and slowly approached, peeking your head round to see Bucky perched on the edge of a huge bed. He shot up when he spotted you in the doorway.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird, it's the only room that wasn’t locked or, y’know… occupied.”

“Lovely.”

He nodded and gave you a smile. “You look great. Amazing, actually. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” his smile melted you a little, “mostly thanks to you.” 

“Ah, you would’a been fine, I just annoyed you into being fine a bit sooner.”

You nervously rubbed the back of your head, in disbelief at how quickly he’d broken through your thick wall of resentment. You scrambled around trying to gather up some of the bricks and rebuild but being in the presence of that slick motherfucker was making it really difficult. 

You gathered your thoughts, took a breath and spoke. 

“Buck, like I said downstairs, you don’t need to explain. Obviously making out with your clients is a fireable offence, I get that, so you had to leave. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“You think I left ‘cause of that? You think some shitty job is more important to me than you?”

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

“Jesus, I really am an asshole.” You gave him a confused frown as he reached out and took both of your hands in his. “Look, I couldn’t give a shit about this job, there’s bodyguarding positions everywhere and most of them don’t involve babysitting rich assholes. I left ‘cause I felt like I’d taken advantage of you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Huh?”

“You were in a bad place. You were vulnerable and I was supposed to be looking after you, not- y’know...”

“Sucking face?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Right, but you do remember that I’m not a child, yeah? Just because I’m feeling shitty doesn’t mean I can’t make decisions for myself.”

“But it does mean your judgement is at least a little impaired.”

“Fine, whatever, but it isn’t anymore.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’m telling you now as a fully sane, rational adult that you didn’t do anything wrong. Alright?”

A relieved smile spread across his face. “Alright.”

“Good, cause I made a decision and I’m sticking to it.

“Might be a bad decision.”

“Sometimes bad decisions are more fun.”

“You can say that again.”

Your second kiss with Bucky was, somehow, even better. He was more sure of himself this time, less cautious, he moved in quicker. You did the same, wrapping both arms around his neck and letting him take some of your weight. You felt him smile against you as a hand dived into the back of your hair.

Now this was a kiss worth being fired for. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “For the record, the first time wasn’t a mistake. It was a… happy accident.”

“Whatever you say,” you chuckled, “I’m just glad we bumped into each other again.”

“Oh, we didn’t. I took this job after checking the guestlist.”

“You sneaky fucker.”

“You know it.”

---

#marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes

[pixie-dust-and-pain]

Slang-B.B

Summary: As much as you love Bucky, you draw the line at slang. However, someone has been teaching Bucky slang and he may have just used it at the most inappropriate time ever

Warnings: swearing, shreksual innuendo, just bucky being a general dumbass, unedited

Word Count: 993

a/n: I've had the idea for quite a bit and I really wanted to write it. It could've come out better, I think, but meh. Also I can't fucking spell Teusday

You may not know what an endoplasmic reticulum is, but you do know that if Bucky keeps this up, his nose is going to be bleeding by the end of today.

"You're sleeping on the couch," You hiss, drawing away from Bucky, who's clearly enjoying himself.

"Aw, but why, doll? I thought this was fun?" he inches closer to you, hands ghosting over your sides as your back hits a tree. And then he begins to tickle you.

The series of curses that escapes you is creative, to say the least. You spout out quite a few suggestions regarding what might happen to his 'yoghurt shooter' if he doesn't stop his wretched attacks, none of them working in his favour.

"So violent, doll," he tsks, and you smack the back of his head in response.

The leaves crunch under your foot, and you bend over to pick one up, "See this?" you ask him softly, and he nods.

You throw the leaf back down, watch it gently sway then fall, before stepping on it as hard as you can, "That's gonna be your pretty little head if you don't stop," you smile sweetly, and he stares at your shoe for a long minute before nodding.

Grinning, you lace your arm through his and begin forward.

"Sometimes," you explain, "when things get too much, I come here. It's peaceful,"

Bucky glances around skeptically, "To a graveyard?"

You elbow him, "The dead won't judge me for crying over The Song Of Achilles, now will they?"

"I beg to differ," he starts, but you cut him off.

"Then beg,"

He pauses, mulling over it, "This is another meme reference, isn't it?" he asks, pronouncing 'meme' and 'mimi', and you chuckle, shrugging.

"Sort of,"

He huffs, pouting.

"Are you sure we won't die?"

You roll your eyes at him, "Babe, we literally just jumped out of a helicopter, like, last Tuesday. I think we'll be fine,"

"If this place is haunted, I'm leaving you as sacrifice,"

"So romantic," you sigh, still aggressively crunching the leaves.

"Why are you letting out years worth of trauma onto those poor leaves?"

"Shut the fuck up, Bucket," you say, leaning into him slightly, crunching the leaves even harder.

"It's almost like you want me to tickle you,"

"I will murder you, you fucking cretin," you hiss, glaring at him, but freeze when you see people, grabbing onto Bucky even tighter.

"Ouch, what the-" you shush him, pointing at the funeral that's taking place. Not the best time to come out for a walk, it seems.

"What do we do?" he whispers to you, and you shrug. It would be a little rude if you sat on a bench and read, wouldn't it? And it's not like you could read anyway, not with all these sobbing people around.

Slowly, you begin walking, not making eye contact with the funeral procession and leading Bucky by the arm as you make your way down to a random grave and crouch by it. You hope nobody will notice that the grave you're crouched next to is fifty years old.

A lady strays from the people she's with, standing at the edge of the group, awfully close to where you and Bucky are.

"I'm sorry," Bucky, the kind soul he is, says to her. You want to face-palm.

"So am I," she sighs, "my mother is a good woman," she flinches, "was, I mean,"

Bucky nods, understanding, "May her soul rest in peace, yolo,"

You and the lady freeze, and you turn to him, eyes wide.

"...What?" the lady sounds confused. You're confused, too. Maybe you heard him wrong.

"Yolo. I hope she got to spill the tea before she rip-ed,"

Oh God, you're both going to die.

Bucky Barnes is a member of the avengers, and he absolutely refuses to attack a civilian, claiming it goes against his code. This does not, however, automatically mean that a civilian follows the same code.

The lady's hand whips back before she slaps him, as hard as possible.

"What-?"

You're already leading the confused Bucky Barnes away from the crying lady, who's summoned her whole band of people around her, telling them what Bucky's done.

Fuck.

"You asshole," the first punch comes at Bucky, who doesn't block and lets the man hit him.

"What the fuck?" you hiss at him.

"I might hurt the civilians," he says, solemn as ever, and you clench your jaw at the sight of the blooming wound. He's going to get a black eye.

"I'm sorry, he really didn't mean that-"a man swings a punch at Bucky, who just stares instead of blocking it, and you block for him, basically throwing the man backwards.

"Did I do something wrong?" Bucky sounds nervous, and you're sighing.

"Run," is all you say before the two of you take off. Bucky is far faster than you, but he's also faster than the mob you're trying to outrun.

Once you've lost them, you stop, turning to Bucky. You're panting and sweating, but he looks as fresh as a fucking daisy.

"Bucky, darling, light of my life, what the fuck was that?" you ask in between gasps and pants, trying to catch your breath.

"I was only offering my condolences?" he sounds confused and a little offended, and you facepalm.

"Dearest," you begin, resting a hand on his shoulder, "I'm going to ask you something and you have to promise to answer me honestly,"

He nods, still confused.

"Who taught you those words?"

"Sam," he states, a little hesitant, and you rise up to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, and then you hug him. Your hand gently traces the black eye he's got, one that will probably heal in a bit, and you hold him tighter. He wraps his hand around your waist, the confusion practically radiating off him.

"Doll?" he begins, only to be cut off by you.

"I'm going to strangle Wilson,"

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x male reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #fanfic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky fluff #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #the winter solider #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x m!reader #bucky barnes fluff #i refuse to put more tags #this is literal pain tf #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #marvel #mcu #avengers #marvel mcu

[mimisempai]

Kiss it better

Summary:

A malfunction in his arm allows Bucky to learn a secret from Sam.

Notes:

Just wanted a little fluffy and funny story about these two dorks in love

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36552628

1164 words - Rating G

Sam woke up with a start and automatically turned to his bedside table to turn off his alarm clock. It was only when he pressed it that he realized it wasn't ringing.

He wondered why he had woken up like that.

Suddenly he heard a smashing sound coming from the kitchen. Awakened, he realized that Bucky was not at his side, and a slight worry came over him.

He quickly got up and headed for the kitchen. Halfway up the stairs, he heard the unmistakable sound of a curse followed by a groan from the kitchen.

He quickened his pace and stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the kitchen.

Bucky, barefoot, in his boxers and T-shirt, was standing at the counter, dishes and ingredients to apparently prepare breakfast. He has the palm of his right hand against his mouth, his metal arm hanging in an odd way down his body.

"Bucky, are you okay?" asked Sam, concerned as he walked over to him.

Bucky shook his head. Closer to him, Sam saw that the hand he had against his mouth was bleeding. Bucky was trying to lean on the counter as best he could. Sam hurried to help him slide down, because pulling himself up onto one of the kitchen chairs was out of the question.

He removed the hand Bucky was holding in front of his mouth and examined it to see the extent of the wound. He took a bit of paper towel to wipe the blood away.

"It's okay, it's not deep. I'll get what I need to bandage it and you can explain afterwards okay?"

Bucky's lower lip was stuck between his teeth and his eyes clenched, his whole face was scrunched up in pain. Clearly, he wasn't okay. He nodded his head jerkily.

It took Sam only a few seconds to find what he was looking for and he was soon back in the kitchen and kneeling beside Bucky.

He took his hand gently in his own, although it looked a little sore, the cut really didn't look too bad. Which made Sam wonder what could trigger such a reaction.

"This might hurt," he said, holding Bucky's wrist firmly with one hand while he applied the disinfectant with the other. Bucky gritted his teeth and hissed but remained still.

Sam then put a bandage to protect the wound.

After that, while keeping his bandaged hand in his, he asked Bucky, "What happened sweetheart?"

"I was cutting bread when something in my arm malfunctioned, so I was dragged by the weight and the knife slipped and I cut myself. It's not the cut that hurts but the arm, because since it doesn't work, it's like a dead weight. And so it frustrated me even more and that's it..."

"I'm not going to berate you by saying you could have called me right away, because we're the same when it comes to asking for help. Although we're going to have to work on that."

Bucky sighed, "I know, it's that I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed. And that fucking arm has once again ruined it."

Sam put a hand on his forearm to calm him down, "I don't think Shuri would like to hear you insult your arm."

Bucky gave a poor little laugh.

Sam continued, "Let me look at your arm, I'm no genius, but I think I can do something."

Bucky looked at him a little surprised, "Can you?"

Sam looked visibly flustered and hesitated a bit before answering, "Hm... a little after Riga, when Ayo disabled your arm. I... I... um, I might have called Shuri to send me some instructions, in case there were any dysfunctions in your arm. Of course she laughed at me at first, saying her technology didn't have any malfunctions, but she finally sent me some tips. We'll see if it works." He stood up quickly and rummaged in a drawer for a few seconds, before victoriously holding up a screwdriver. He knelt down again next to Bucky.

Just as he was about to lean over his arm, he was stopped by Bucky's bandaged hand on his shoulder.

Bucky looked shocked, "You asked Shuri that, when we weren't even... both of us weren't... well you know what I mean. Why Sam?"

Sam shook his head with an embarrassed expression, "Because I cared about you, because by that time I already knew I was madly in love with you. And don't look so surprised, because I have it on good authority that you were getting a detailed report of every one of my missions."

"How... No, don't say anything. Joaquin sold me out, didn't he?"

Sam just raised a mocking eyebrow before adding, "Come on let's look at that arm."

Sam began tinkering with the plates and mechanisms of the arm, as Bucky looked on with fondness.

"I know I've apologized before, but Sam, I'm sorry I acted like a jerk back then."

Sam shook his head, "We both had our burdens to bear at that time. We both got through it, first on our own and then together. Let's look at the present rather than the past."

After a final snap, he asked Bucky, "Move your arm, this should be good." Bucky moved his fingers tentatively and was pleased to see that they responded perfectly. Then he raised his arm and put his metal hand on the back of Sam's neck to draw his face to his own.

He murmured with a half smile on his lips, "It works perfectly thanks to my lovely mechanic."

Sam laughed against his lips, "Idiot."

Bucky replied, "Kiss that idiot."

"Only because he's my idiot and he's hurt.", Sam replied playfully, his eyes in Bucky's, his hands wrapping around Bucky's neck as Bucky tied his metal arm around his waist.

Then he sealed his lips to Bucky's, which opened, welcoming. They kissed for a long time and when Sam pulled back much later, he asked with a cheeky voice, "Does my idiot feel better now?"

Bucky nodded, then seemed to change his mind.

He placed a finger on his own cheek and said, "I'm a little sore here."

Sam looked closer and shook his head, "I don't see anything, but just to be safe, I'll apply some antiseptic, right?"

He pretended to grab the bottle but Bucky stopped him and said in a falsely plaintive tone, "I prefer natural remedies."

Sam rolled his eyes and in an equally falsely reluctant manner, he gently kissed the spot Bucky indicated.

"Is there another place?" he asked, having no doubt about his dorky lover's answer.

Bucky placed his finger on his right eyelid and Sam indulged in this little game, again and again, until Bucky tapped his lips.

With a chuckle, Sam hurried to dispense his special remedy, for when it came to Bucky, he was always willing to give a lot of himself. Because he knew he would get just as much in return.

________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

SamBucky masterlist here

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #sambucky fic #established sambucky #winterfalcon #falconwinter #tfatws #fluff #banter #dorks in love

[aelaer]

Whumptober 23: Bleeding Out

NGL, whenever I see these two words together these days, the Imagine Dragons song of the same name starts blaring in my head.

I haven't ever written Bucky outside of a group scenario and never really interacting with Stephen, so he was the Random Avenger (I'm counting him as an Avenger) that I decided to cameo for this. Alongside, naturally, Sam. Oh man I can't wait for that show, if it's not a buddy-cop action/comedy I'll be so disappointed.

Oh also this fills "Sunset" for my @stephenstrangebingo​ and that's another bingo, y'all.

This isn’t graphic, though naturally blood is mentioned. May want to avoid if you’re uncomfortable by the trapped/small spaces/crushed-type tropes, though :)

23. Bleeding Out

The smoke rising from the destruction several blocks west painted the orange sunset a blood red, which was oddly appropriate for an ending of a day that went like this.

Stephen wasn't entirely sure why normal people bothered to live in New York City anymore with its alarmingly frequent encounters with something destructive. Then again, it seemed most cities in the twenty-first century drew plenty of abnormal and outright dangerous beings. Yet somehow, property was still insanely expensive in said cities. It really made a person wonder about the human condition.

The doctor in him realized that his wandering thoughts were not conducive to staying alive. He forced himself to concentrate on the now.

The obvious part of the now was the sharp pain in his side and the fact that he was definitely, slowly but surely, suffering from exsanguination. He wasn't sure if it was one of the attacking aliens or a piece of debris that caused the bloody wound on his side, but whatever the case, he needed some emergency care within the next ten minutes or he would more than likely be dead.

It was rather a shame that he was pinned by the wreckage of a collapsed building and that he had no magic left to do… well, anything. No healing, no mentally reaching out for help, and he didn't even have the power to push out his astral form. In hindsight, using every last ounce of his magic probably wasn't the best idea.

At least he had a partial view of the sunset sky. That was something. He'd reach for it, but his leg was under something. Mercifully he had lost all feeling for the leg, which could be remedied if he was rescued in the next few minutes, or wouldn't matter within the next half hour. Either way worked for him; being alive was so tiring, sometimes. Like right now; right now it was absolutely exhausting.

An alarm flared in the back of his brain, but he couldn't remember what was so important about what he was feeling.

Speaking of feeling, Stephen still felt the Cloak's limited wiggling as it struggled to get out. Poor Cloak. It would be rescued eventually, though by the time it was, it was perhaps too late for him, having bled out and all.

Ah, yes. That's what the alarm was for. He was bleeding out and his body was beginning to shut down. It was a shame he couldn't move his arm to staunch the wound. Maybe he could try and use magic… oh, no, he was all out. He remembered now.

At least he could watch the blood red sky. It was a nice color, though a bit foreboding.

… not the worst thing to see… nice sunset…

….

He opened his eyes at the new noises. He didn't remember closing them. Noise, what was that noise? It wasn't distant sirens, or something falling, or something else being blown up. It wasn't incomprehensive shouts from ally, enemy, or civilian. But it sounded like… it was more like the latter, more like people. It sounded like speech.

Words began to drift through the wreckage and to Stephen's groggy mind, though they were partially incomprehensible.

"...awning or something…"

"...like that? … my mom used to…"

A moment later, his right hand felt a bit colder and the noise became louder and much clearer.

"Oh my God."

Someone placed a hand on his wrist, for… for something. There was something he knew about the wrist that he was… something important.

"Is he still alive?"

"Yeah, but it's thready." Then he heard, "We need medics on 30th and 9th; Doctor Strange is down. Alive, condition otherwise unknown." Then, in the next breath, "We need to uncover him fast, but carefully. Push that beam downward to the right, then that slab of concrete—"

He lost the conversation as things shuffled around him, but a quick moment later his view of the sunset engulfed his blurry vision, only to be immediately replaced by two men that he knew he knew but details like names were difficult at the moment.

"Strange! Stay with us, Strange," said the one that was directing things. Stephen squinted at him in confusion, and maybe he understood his confusion because he continued, "It's Sam, Stephen. Bucky is working on getting you out, but I need you to tell me where you're injured."

Injured, injured… oh, yes. Bleeding. "Left side," he rasped. "Blood." What was the word… he knew these words. He knew these words well. "Hyp… Hypo…" Hypo-something.

"Hypovolemic shock?"

Yes, that was it. Stephen gave the barest of nods and let his eyes shut. He was so damn tired.

He felt a light tap on his face and he blinked, looking up at Sam. "You need to stay awake just a little longer. Barnes, get his left side free when you can."

"I heard the Doc!" Bucky shouted back as he worked on removing the debris. "I— whoa!"

Stephen's brow furrowed in confusion, but suddenly he felt a heavy pressure at his side that caused him to wince in pain.

"I think his cloak's buying us a couple extra minutes," Sam said at his head.

"Good, because I can't move the debris around his chest until I get most of the crap off his legs; it might collapse otherwise."

The painful pressure on his side— from the Cloak, sounded like— did more to keep him awake and help unmuddle some of his thoughts, and he did his best to peer at his surroundings. From his vantage point, he saw that they had removed the debris in front of him and around his right arm. It looked like the rest of his right side was still mostly blocked off. He couldn't see the bottom half of his body the way he was laying on his stomach.

Stephen groaned as the Cloak pressed a little harder against his side.

Sam laid a hand on his right shoulder. "Just hang on for a few more minutes. The guy with the metal arm is mostly useless, but he's good at lifting heavy stuff."

"You just wish you were as great as me," Bucky grunted as the sound of more shifting debris punctuated his claim.

Stephen huffed a laugh, then winced at the pain it brought. "Don't— don't make me laugh."

"I'll try, but no promises," Sam said with a half smile and a soft pat on his shoulder.

"Is… is everyone okay?" he asked.

"A few injuries, but I think you get the gold medal for the worst injuries this round," Sam answered. "You're lucky Bucky saw the corner of your cloak struggling to pull itself out. It was only sticking out a few inches."

A grunt, some more heavy shifting, and an answer came from beyond Stephen's viewpoint. "I told you it was embroidery and not some tacky awning."

"Hey, I didn't call it tacky— don't go insinuating that I'm insulting the magical outerwear. We have a good relationship, both being flying… things."

"Things, huh?"

The conversation was of some help to distract Stephen from the pain, though every time his eyes fluttered shut for more than a few seconds, Sam would tap him awake. As the sound of distant sirens began to grow closer, he heard, "I think this will do it," and suddenly he felt a searing pain in his now-free leg, and within thirty seconds the rest of his body was uncovered.

"The ambulance is coming up right behind you," he heard Bucky say as the pain began to overwhelm him. "Just hold on a little longer."

He tried to listen to him, but as the blare of sirens whitewashed all other sounds, and then something touched him, touched his leg, his body gave up on him and consciousness fled.

((Don't worry, he lives.

Sam ended up just taking the wheel from Bucky, cuz I guess he's still annoyed about what happened in TWS… I don't control the characters, they do their own thing.

I know one of the symptoms of severe hypovolemic shock is confusion, though I am not sure if that confusion includes forgetting simple things like people's names as well as knowledge you know like the back of your hand. If it doesn't, well, we'll say it's also the magical exhaustion then. Or just a nasty concussion.))

#whumptober2019 #no.23 #bleeding out #stephenstrangebingo #stephen strange #sam wilson #bucky barnes #whump #avengers fanfiction #doctor strange fanfic #doctor strange #tw: blood #tw: trapped #tw: small spaces