#mcu fics

[dearstvckyx]

sometimes home is a person team — bob reynolds x witch!reader

ᯓ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝖻𝗈𝖻 𝗋𝖾𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 / 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗍𝗌 𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

ᯓ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦��𝐫𝐲 𝖮𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽: 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖡𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇, 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖲𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅—𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖡𝗈𝖻 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄. (This is long fyi)

ᯓ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 𝖧𝗎𝗋𝗍/𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝖥𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖥𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝖲𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖡𝗎𝗋𝗇

ᯓ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍, 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒

read 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || drabble

♪ “ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ” — ᴄᴏʟᴅᴘʟᴀʏ “ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋs”

✦•················•✦•················•✦•················•✦•················•✦

The facility was too quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that meant “mission accomplished.” No — it was the stillness of something waiting to be found.

John Walker slowed his pace, eyes narrowing down the long metal corridor. Behind him, Bucky adjusted the grip on his pistol. Bob, at the rear, scanned the shadows with a soft, worried crease in his brows.

“Anyone else hear that?” Bob asked suddenly, voice low.

They all froze.

A soft, broken sound echoed down the hallway.

It was faint — nearly drowned out by the hum of flickering lights and the cooling bodies of dead tech — but it was there.

A whimper.

Sharp. Wet. Human.

“Third door on the right,” Bucky murmured, already moving.

They reached the door in seconds. Reinforced steel. Padlocked shut.

Walker knelt beside the frame and tugged at the handle. “Locked.”

Bucky frowned. “Someone didn’t want this opened.”

More whimpering.

This time it was clearer — like someone trying not to cry. Trying to disappear.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat. “We need to open it. Now.”

No more questions.

With a grunt of effort, Walker raised his shield and slammed it into the lock. The door didn’t budge.

Bucky stepped in beside him, metal arm gleaming.

“Together,” he said.

The door flew open with a deafening clang, slamming into the wall and revealing a room that reeked of blood, bleach, and desperation.

And there — in the far corner, curled so tight you looked half your size — was you.

Your arms were wrapped around your knees, trying to hide your chest. Your skin was scraped, bruised, and streaked with dried blood. IV ports dangled from your arms. And worse — you were naked.

You let out a cry and shoved yourself deeper into the corner, eyes wide with terror as the three men stood frozen in the doorway.

“Shit,” John muttered. “She’s just a kid.”

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, kneeling down and holding up both hands. “It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.”

But you were shaking. Mute. Pressed into the wall like it might swallow you whole.

Bob took one step forward — slow, careful, eyes flicking instantly to your exposed body. His face tightened.

Then, without a word, he unclasped the thick, blue cape from his shoulders.

He held it low so you wouldn’t flinch, then gently draped it over your shivering form.

“There we go,” he said quietly, voice soft as clouds. “You don’t have to be scared. I’ve got you.”

Your breathing hitched as you stared up at him. Tears filled your eyes. And Bob, he didn’t hesitate. He knelt down and, with one careful motion, scooped you into his arms — cape tucked tightly around you, shielding every inch of skin.

You didn’t fight him.

You just trembled. Silent. Fragile.

Bucky and John exchanged a glance but said nothing. Whatever you’d been through… it was worse than they imagined.

⸻

When they met up with the others in the hangar, Yelena’s smile dropped instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, stepping forward.

“She was locked in,” Walker said quietly. “No food. No clothes. They left her to rot.”

“Animals,” Ava spat.

Alexei stared for a long moment, then crossed himself.

Bob just held you tighter.

“She didn’t say anything,” he murmured. “Not a word. But she let me carry her.”

Your face was buried in his chest, arms trembling under the thick folds of his cape. You didn’t speak, but you clung to him like a life raft.

And that’s exactly what he was.

⸻

On the Jet the flight home was silent — not with tension, but with reverence.

Bob stayed seated with you nestled in his lap, his arms cradling your body as gently as if you were made of glass.

You never once moved away.

Yelena passed him a water bottle to offer you. He held it near your mouth, and to everyone’s shock, you sipped. Barely — but you trusted him.

You didn’t acknowledge the others. Couldn’t. Not yet.

But when turbulence hit and your fingers tightened in Bob’s suit, he only smiled down at you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you let yourself believe it might be true.

You were a test subject. You were a kid—probably no older than twenty. And the second you stepped foot into the Thunderbolts’ tower, your healing began.

⸻

Your healing journey started with yelena:

Yelena didn’t push when you didn’t eat the first night.

She just stared down at the untouched food with a sigh and muttered in Russian under her breath, something halfway between annoyance and concern. The next morning, she came back — tray in hand, this time with oatmeal and banana slices shaped into a smiley face, and a mug of something warm with cinnamon steam curling into the air, something the former Captain America had made just for you.

“You didn’t eat,” she said matter-of-factly, setting the tray beside you. “So now I’m bribing you. Congratulations. You’ve become a hostage to my hospitality.”

You blinked at the bowl, then at her.

“I swear it’s not poisoned,” she added, holding up both hands. “If it was, Bob would’ve cried halfway through stirring.”

She didn’t expect a thank you. She didn’t get one, either.

The next day, it was scrambled eggs and toast — cut into little squares (courtesy of Bucky) like she was feeding a toddler. She perched on the foot of your bed, scrolling through her phone like she had nowhere better to be.

“Just one bite,” she murmured, almost like she was talking to herself. “Then I can yell at John with a clear conscience.”

On the fourth day, your fingers shook when you reached for the spoon. She didn’t say anything — just passed you a napkin without looking up. Her voice stayed light. Teasing. Like this was all normal.

By the end of the week, there were post-it notes all over the kitchen.

“If you eat the soup, I’ll let you braid my hair. Warning: I talk a lot of trash.”

“Bob made muffins. You don’t want to disappoint him. He has sad eyes.”

“Eat something or I’ll tell Alexei you need cheering up. You know what that means.”

You still hadn’t spoken. But you were eating.

One night, when you drifted off on the couch, curled into John’s army hoodie, Yelena pulled the blanket over your legs. The sleeve slipped off your arm.

And that’s when she really saw you.

The outline of bones. The thinness of your wrist. How your shoulder blades looked like they might cut through your skin.

Her expression didn’t change. Not outwardly.

But her hand stilled.

And for the first time, her voice wasn’t joking when she whispered to the empty room, “I’ve got you now, okay? You’re not going to break.”

Then she sat on the floor beside you.

And stayed.

⸻

Next came the loudest member, alexei:

Alexei was loud, clumsy, and had absolutely no concept of personal space.

But somehow… you didn’t mind.

Maybe it was because he didn’t look at you with pity. Didn’t tiptoe or whisper. He just treated you like you were alive, not fragile — like joy was still something worth chasing.

One afternoon, he barged into the kitchen wearing a dish towel as a cape and a colander on his head. “Do not be alarmed,” he announced. “Red Guardian is here to defend snack time.”

Bob blinked. Yelena rolled her eyes.

You… let out a small, unexpected snort.

Alexei gasped, hand on his chest. “Was that laugh? Did I hear laugh?! You have been blessed by the Guardian’s presence!”

Your hands flew to your mouth, surprised by the sound. He grinned wider.

From that day on, he was relentless. Sock puppet shows. Dramatic retellings of old missions (“There were six bears, I swear—no, seven!”). A constant, chaotic storm of ridiculous energy designed for one purpose: to make you forget, just for a minute.

One night, after you smiled — a real one — he sat back in his chair, quieter than usual.

“They did not take you,” he said. “You are still here. I see it.”

And in that moment… you believed maybe he was right.

⸻

bucky was next after that day:

You never said a word. Not to him. Not to anyone.

But Bucky never asked you to.

He noticed early — the way your eyes tracked every sound like they might be a threat. The way you kept your back to the wall, flinching when anyone entered the room too fast. The way you gripped the hem of Bob’s hoodie like a lifeline.

So Bucky gave you space… but he also gave you presence.

You’d find him in the hallway outside your room some mornings, sitting with a mug of coffee, reading a weathered paperback. He didn’t knock. Didn’t hover.

He just existed nearby — calm. Predictable. Someone who could sit in silence without making it uncomfortable.

One evening, you startled during a movie — a sudden explosion on screen.

Before you even registered it, Bucky was beside the couch, crouched down in front of you, one hand held palm-up near yours, not touching.

Your breath hitched.

“I get it,” he said gently. “Too much noise sometimes.”

You didn’t answer. Just stared at his hand — scarred, calloused, real — and after a long moment, you let your pinky brush his thumb.

He said nothing. Just nodded like it meant everything.

The next day, he brought a book to your room. The Secret Garden.

He didn’t read it aloud. Just left it on the nightstand and tapped the cover once. “One of the good ones.”

Later, he caught you curled on your side with it open on your lap, lips moving silently as your finger traced the words.

When the nightmares came — and they always came — you’d find your door cracked open. Not by accident.

Bucky would be down the hall, hoodie pulled over his head, earbuds in one ear, metal arm resting on his knee. He never asked questions. He just sat there. Every night.

And though you couldn’t say it yet… a small part of you started to believe:

You weren’t alone. Not anymore.

⸻

Ava was next:

The phaser never hovered.

She didn’t overwhelm you with softness or pity. She simply showed up — a quiet presence with clean clothes folded in her arms and a hairbrush in her hand.

“These might be too big,” she said one morning, holding out a plain black hoodie and leggings. “But they’re yours. No having to return or borrow.”

You took them without meeting her eyes.

Afterward, she found you in the bathroom mirror, trying to tame the mess of your hair with shaking fingers. You didn’t ask for help. But you didn’t flinch when she stepped beside you and gently reached for the brush.

“Can I?” she asked.

You hesitated, remembering when those people would yank and pull your hair, or cut it but still you nodded.

She worked slowly — careful not to tug, careful not to crowd. Her fingers were warm and steady as she moved through the tangles, the silence between you soft and comfortable.

“There,” she murmured, brushing a final strand behind your ear. “Better.”

You glanced at your reflection — the clean clothes, the neat braid, the faint color in your cheeks.

For the first time, you looked like someone becoming.

Over the next few days, she left little bundles on your bed — folded tops in soft fabrics, sweatpants with drawstrings, simple rings and earrings like you might’ve picked for yourself once.

And she never made it a big deal. Never told you what to wear. She just let you choose.

That was her way of saying: This body is yours again.

Not theirs.

And when she caught you one evening tracing your fingers over the silver band on your thumb — the one she’d quietly slipped into the pile — Ava smiled.

“You picked a good one.”

⸻

john was next:

John didn’t pretend to understand what you’d been through.

But he knew how to rebuild something broken — brick by brick, breath by breath. So when you started eating again, sleeping through the night, and walking with a little less tremble in your step, he showed up at the training room early one morning with two mats and a towel slung over his shoulder.

“No punches,” he promised. “Just movement. Just control.”

You hovered by the doorway, unsure.

He didn’t coax. Just dropped into a stretch and started his warmup like it was nothing. Five minutes later, you quietly sat across from him, copying his motions — stiff, slow, but willing.

The sessions stayed wordless for a while. No pressure. No lectures. Just him, showing up. Patient. Steady.

And then came the sparring.

He kept it light, barely tapping your arms, letting you find your footing. You hated how weak you felt. He saw it in your eyes — the frustration, the fear that you weren’t someone anymore.

Then one day, it happened.

You blocked a blow just a little too hard — or maybe it wasn’t your muscles that reacted. Maybe it was something deeper.

A burst of blue light, violent and raw, cracked through your palm like lightning. It slammed into John’s chest with a force neither of you expected.

He flew backward. Crashed into the far wall with a heavy, echoing thud.

You froze. Eyes wide. Heart racing.

Then you crumpled into the corner of the room, pulling your knees to your chest, trembling like a child who had broken something too precious.

John groaned, dragging himself up, hand over his ribs.

“Okay,” he muttered, coughing. “That was new.”

You didn’t look up. Just shook your head, curls hiding your face. Your chest heaved. You thought he’d be angry. Scared. You were scared.

And then — boots stepped closer.

And arms wrapped around you.

Strong. Real. Safe.

John knelt there in front of you, holding you to his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it.

“Hey, hey. I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t.”

You clung to his shirt, breath shaky, chest tight.

“You’ve got power,” he whispered. “That’s all. And we’re gonna figure it out — together.”

No bark. No orders. Just warmth.

Just John — letting you fall apart without judgment.

And staying until you could breathe again.

⸻

bob was last:

Bob had watched them all find their way to you.

Yelena with her constant hovering, armed with snacks and sass and fierce protectiveness — always pretending it wasn’t tenderness underneath.

Alexei, storming through every room like a bear in a costume shop, pulling laughs from you like it was the only thing that mattered.

Ava, so gentle, giving you soft fabrics and quieter choices — never treating you like glass, but always giving you control.

Walker, guiding you through each move in the gym, pushing just enough to show you your strength — and holding you when your powers cracked through the surface.

Even Bucky had found his way in. Sitting beside you on the bad days. Letting silence be safe again.

Bob… wasn’t sure what was left for him.

He was the quiet one. The overlooked one. Always had been.

But you kept sitting next to him.

Not touching, at first. Just close. Like his presence was a lighthouse in a fog you couldn’t name.

And then one day, as you sat on his lap like you had on the jet and at some-point you ended up hiding you face into his chest when an silly argument between Alexei and Walker started, he let you stay like that.

And then again, the next day. And the next.

Eventually, your spot wasn’t beside him — it was on him. Curled in his lap on the jet, pressed into his chest on the couch, dozing off with your palms on his chest. He never moved unless you wanted him to. Never asked questions. Just offered you the stillness you’d been denied for so long.

He didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to — but because you never looked like you needed words.

You needed breath. Warmth. Something safe to rest your bones against.

And that, he could give you.

But late at night, when the tower was quiet and the others had gone to bed, he’d stare down at the top of your head and wonder: Am I helping? Or am I just here?

He told himself it didn’t matter.

That just being was enough.

Then one night, while you were curled in his lap under a shared blanket he brought from his room, he sighed and murmured, “Yelena’s furious with me. Says I stole her muffin again. Swears she counted them this time.”

Your head stirred faintly against his chest.

“She’s wrong, though,” he continued softly. “It was Alexei. I saw him. Tried to hide it in his boot like a goblin hoarding treasure.”

There was a beat.

And then — the faintest breath of a sound.

A snort. Half a laugh. And then, quieter still:

A hoarse voice spoke “…Liar.”

Bob froze.

You did too.

The word hung in the air between you — fragile, trembling, real.

His eyes widened. He looked down slowly, breath catching.

“Did you just…?” He blinked. “Did you—say something?”

You were already curling into yourself, pulling the blanket tighter, face warm with embarrassment.

But he smiled — soft and stunned — and took your hand gently in both of his.

“You did,” he whispered. “You talked.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t pull away either.

And after a moment, you rested your head on his shoulder again — quieter now, but not afraid.

“I knew you’d find it,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I didn’t know it’d break me like this, but… I’m glad it was me.”

He didn’t tell anyone that night.

He just held you while you fell asleep against his chest, warm and safe and finally home.

[saiilorstars]

Speak up now...or Else...

Bucky Barnes x gf!reader

Story Summary: Bucky breaks his girlfriend's coffee maker and decides to make it everyone else's problem.

Taglist: ​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​ ​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​ @gloryekaterina​​ @lenonizi​ @averyhotchner​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes ​​​​​​​​​​​​

i'm keeping the usual taglist but since this is y/n/reader work, please let me know if you'd like to be removed from this specific taglist!!

It was a nice morning, one like usual. You woke up thanks to Bucky so subtly moving around the room getting ready for the day.

"I don't understand how you were ever the winter soldier when you move like that," you muttered grumpily. In your opinion, he was so loud.

Bucky chuckled and called you out on your grumpiness. "Can I make it up with some coffee?"

"You thought you weren't?" you retorted, tossing the covers to the side and getting out of bed. "Oh, no, no, James. This is going to cost you. Coffee — now."

Bucky gave you a mock salute and left the room to get started on his apology. Like it was his fault that you were the world's lightest sleeper.

A fly could wake you up.

~0~

You emerged from the bedroom about 5 minutes later and headed straight to the kitchen. You were already envisioning your sweet morning coffee, so when you smelled burning coffee, you knew something else was going to happen.

You entered the kitchen to see your favorite coffee maker steaming and with a wide hole on the side…like someone had punched through it.

And there was one guilty Bucky Barnes standing on the other side of the isle.

"…you broke my coffee maker?"

"Well, 'broke' is a…strong word…" Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly.

Your eyes narrowed on your boyfriend. "You broke my coffee maker."

"I did not 'break it', I…gently tapped it…"

"You gently tapped a hole into it?"

"Maybe not so gently," Bucky mumbled.

"JAMES—"

Bucky sprang into action and dashed around the isle. "Okay, okay, okay!" He took you away from the messy sight. "Why don't we go out and buy a new one, hm? Any one you want, I swear."

"That was my favorite…" you pouted.

"I know, I know," he nodded, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Do you want to go to the store right now? We can make a day out of it, I'll make this morning up to you, I swear."

"Yeah, alright," you shrugged. At this point, nothing else could go wrong.

Bucky sent you back to the room to get changed so you could leave. He promised you that by the time you returned, the mess would be gone. You warned him that it better be.

There is literally nothing else that could go wrong now, Barnes, he thought to himself. He seemed to be screwing things up spectacularly today and it wasn't even 10am yet.

He started hearing the chattering of the others as they neared the kitchen. He groaned internally. He was not ready to deal with the cavalry yet. If they found out he managed to break your coffee maker, they would never let him live it down.

No way I'm adding that to my day, he thought.

Walker was the first one in and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the coffee maker. "Woah, what the hell happened?"

Yelena came in next and said the same thing. "Somebody's in trouble…" she smirked, already assuming it was Bucky.

Ava, Alexei and Bob trailed in behind and each one made comical 'yikes' expressions. Everyone knew that you without coffee was already bad, but a you without a coffee maker might as well be an Avengers-level threat.

"So…who broke it?" Bucky's words stopped everyone's murmurs and earned him identical stunned faces.

"What?" Yelena said, losing her confidence in the moment. "It wasn't…it wasn't you?"

"Do I look dumb enough to break my girlfriend's coffee maker?" Bucky retorted, flat-faced.

It made Yelena second-guess herself, and the others as well.

"So, who the hell broke it?"

There was a heavy tension in the air, no one daring to admit to the fault.

"I did," said Bob suddenly, "I broke—"

"No, no you didn't," Bucky cut him off. He was holding himself so straight that nobody could even think he was playing them all. "Walker?"

"What?" frowned the man. "Don't look at me. Look at Yelena."

"What?" Yelena said in return. "I didn't break it!"

"Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?"

Yelena blinked incredulously at Walker. "Uuh, because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken. Suspicious!"

"If it matters - probably not - but Ava was the last one to use it," Alexei mumbled to Bucky not so much in a 'mumble'.

Ava reacted fast at the accusation. "Liar! I don't even drink that crap!"

"Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the coffee maker earlier?"

"Ok, ok! Let's not fight!" Bob tried speaking over everyone's shouts. "I broke it, let me pay for it, Bucky!"

"No, Bob, we can't do that," Bucky said, half smiling. It was getting harder not to start laughing. "So who broke it? Y/N's going to be here any minute now and she's going to want some answers."

"Bucky, Ava's been awfully quiet…" Alexei said yet again and made Ava snap.

"Oh, really!?" She turned and started to argue with him, which then prompted the rest to start bickering with each other.

And that's how you found them when you walked into the kitchen. Bucky was watching the chaos with a massive smirk on his face, clearly very proud of himself.

"Woah, woah, woah, what the hell is going on!?" you shouted over all of them.

"We're trying to figure out who the hell broke your damn coffee maker," Walker said, then immediately reiterated his innocence in the matter.

"Who broke my coffee maker?" you said, confused, then glanced at Bucky. "We don't know who broke it?"

"Nope," he replied, then looked away to cover up his laugh.

I'm gonna kill this guy, you thought and swallowed your own laughter.

"I said it was me," Bob cut in unknowingly, "I broke it, so just let me try and get a new one. There's no need to fight."

"No, Bob, it wasn't you," you said softly, "But maybe you and I can go shopping for another one. You're the only with sensible taste in this whole building."

And suddenly Bucky was done having his own fun. "What?" he looked at you. "I thought you and I—"

"We can train later, sweetheart," you said, like that had been their whole plan for the day. "Bob and I have some shopping to do. I'll see you later, okay? Bob?"

Bob looked around the group and their annoyed faces. Shopping was definitely the easier way to go. "Yup!" He dashed after you since you had already taken the lead out.

"And clean that mess up!" you shouted at the rest.

Unbelievable, Bucky shook his head.

He looked at the remaining members after a moment. "You heard her. Clean this mess up." He then too left the kitchen, ignoring the bickering that continued without him.

~0~

It was later at night when Bucky saw you again and it was only because neither you nor Bob could figure out how to set up the new coffee maker. It was like watching children playing with tools.

"You found a new one," he mused at the larger coffee maker now taking space up on the counter.

"Well I had to considering somebody broke my last one," you remarked.

"I still say it's me," Bob said, very much sounding honest.

"No, Bob, it wasn't you," you said, crossing your arms. "It was my dumbass boyfriend."

"What?" Bob's eyes widened and immediately flickered to Bucky. "You broke it?"

A smirk spread across Bucky's face. "You gonna tell, Bob?"

"Uh, no," Bob shook his head instantly. "N-no, I would — I would never! But then…why did you make it seem like someone else did it? Ava almost beat up Alexei."

"I was bored," answered Bucky, "and annoyed."

"Evil," you rolled your eyes playfully. "We could have had a dead team on our hands all because you wanted to have some fun."

"And I had a lot of fun," Bucky was happy to report. "Bob, why don't you head out and I'll take over here?"

Bob agreed only because he didn't want to get blamed for something too. When he was gone, you took the opportunity to 'reprimand' Bucky for being so childish.

"You gotta admit it was funny, though," Bucky said after the whole lecture. And as much as you wanted to remain serious, the image of the whole team arguing with each other was too funny to pass on.

"You can't do that again…" you warned him through giggles.

"Not with the coffee maker, of course," Bucky said, "It's brand new now." You whacked his arm. "We could do it with something else! It's funny!"

You leaned up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "You're supposed to be mature here. You are the oldest."

"And therefore with the authority to continue," Bucky shrugged.

"Get to work, Bucky!" You tossed him the coffee maker's manual. "I want coffee tomorrow morning!"

[buckybabesonly]

Close Enough to Break

Summary: Bucky stubbornly hides his feelings for you. Yelena is convinced that you two are just a couple of idiots in love. You quietly pine after the stoic super soldier, questioning why he seems to be pushing you away.

Pairing: Bucky x female!reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Thunderbolts*, angst, fluff

Word count: 3k

You were totally in your element, tinkering away at the piece of weaponry in front of you with extreme precision, safety goggles covering your eyes. As the lead Weapons and Tech Engineer at the revived Avengers tower, your job was tough but absolutely everything you loved.

Okay, so it came with the huge downside of working for the morally corrupt she-devil that was Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, but the job paid very handsomely. Most importantly, it meant you got to work on all sorts of cool projects that was every engineer's fantasy.

Plus, it came with the bonus of working in close proximity with the man of your dreams.

The lab was empty, the rest of your team gone home for the day, but you were determined to complete the upgrades on Bucky's smart grenades. It was your idea to develop the weapon - superb combat utility, remote detonation and timed release, different selectable modes... they would be perfect for him out in the field. When you'd pitched the idea to him a few weeks earlier, he'd smiled hard at your child-like enthusiasm.

John had moaned to you earlier that day about favoritism, as you had neglected the enhancements you'd promised to his shield - but you wanted to be able to get this finished first. You were no superhero, but you felt happy that your work could contribute to Bucky's ability to protect himself and fight in the field.

As if you had manifested his presence, you heard a soft beeping of the lab doors, before they slid open to reveal a tall figure. You looked up, breath catching in your throat - as it often did when you saw him - when Bucky strode into the room.

"Hey," he said, giving you a quick smile. "Heard you'd still be in here. It's getting late - shouldn't you be heading home?"

His very presence was like a shot of espresso. If you had been tired before, you definitely didn't feel it now.

"It's okay," you said, your smile growing as he moved closer. "I'm so close to perfecting these." You waved your hands out at the selection of grenades in front of you. He let out a low whistle.

"Nice. Thanks again, by the way," he said, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck. His tongue darted out to run across his lower lips. A nervous habit of his that you had picked up on.

"So, what did I do to deserve the honor of your visit?" you teased, placing your tools down and pushing your goggles up to sit atop your head. His eyes followed your movement, eyes flicking to yours and then away. He seemed anxious.

"Just checking in on you," he said eventually, offering no further explanation.

You couldn't stop yourself from eyeing him up and down, fully appreciating how good he looked in his dark t-shirt and leather jacket. You two had been doing this strange dance for a while now - trying to spend more and more time together, whilst both not fully ready to talk about your feelings for one another. There was a huge will they, won't they debate going among the team - a discussion you refused to partake in.

Secretly, you were aching to take the first step, but there was always that fear of rejection holding you back.

You weren't sure that Bucky even reciprocated your feelings. Yelena seemed to think he did. A couple of weeks ago, she had rolled her eyes at you like you were stupid.

"Don't be a dum-dum," she said, shaking her head. "If he doesn't like you back, I will swallow my own fist."

You felt emboldened when your mind flashed back to your conversation. There had to be a reason that Bucky always found some way to spend time with you, right? Whether it was spontaneous visits to your lab, invites to go get coffee, or lingering by your side at those stupid PR events Valentina always held - you had to give yourself some credit.

"You know what," you said finally, emboldened by a sudden rush of confidence. "All this work has gotten me a little thirsty. How about I let you buy me a drink?"

You tried not to cringe when you said the words aloud. You had never been quite this straight forward before.

Bucky cleared his throat, taken aback. He seemed to hesitate for just a beat before giving you an apologetic smile.

"I still have some work I need to do, so - maybe next time?" he said halfheartedly.

Oh.

Your heart sank. Disappointment and embarrassment flooded your chest, but you kept the smile pinned to your face. You felt your cheeks heat up, which just made you pray for the ground to open and swallow you up even more. A missile to the side of the building would make a great distraction right now.

"Sure. No problem," you said lightly, turning away from him again and putting your goggles back on like a shield.

"Don't stay too late," he reminded you gently before he left the room again.

What the hell was that?

Bucky Barnes continued to confuse and frustrate you. Did he just see you as a friend, nothing more? Had you crossed a professional line by suggesting he buy you a drink?

You cringed, groaning out loud once he was out of earshot. You could kill Yelena.

You found yourself cornered by Yelena and Bob the next day, the former having picked up on your sour mood immediately when you stomped through the building.

"Are you okay? You want a donut?" Bob had offered sweetly, flipping open the box of Krispy Kremes in his hands.

"No thanks," you pouted, glaring at Yelena.

"What are you mad at me for?" she asked, eyes widening innocently.

"I took your stupid advice -" you began loudly, before lowering your voice to a barely audible whisper, "- and tried to ask Bucky out last night."

"What?" Bob and Yelena said in unison, Bob sporting the widest grin on his face.

"He said no," you dead-panned, rejection rearing its ugly head once again.

Yelena was speechless for just a split second, before she puffed out her cheeks.

"Okay look. Trust me," Yelena began, "he's old fashioned. Likes to take things slow. Maybe he's just not used to women being forward?"

"Yeah, maybe he's used to how people did things back in the 40's," Bob offered unhelpfully. "Didn't men used to take their time courting the women?"

"Yeah," you said, unconvincingly. "Or, you know, maybe I got it all wrong and he just doesn't like me."

Yelena tilted her head at you, raising her eyebrows. "Do you seriously believe that?"

"C'mon, Yelena," you said, exasperated. "If he actually liked me, I think he would have done something about it by now."

Yelena placed a heavy hand on your shoulder. "Like I said, trust me. I'm very observant. The way he looks at you speaks volumes."

Bob nodded enthusiastically, like they both saw something you didn't.

"So what am I supposed to do now?" You sighed, head hanging like a puppy. You looked so pathetic that Yelena and Bob exchanged sympathetic looks behind your back.

"Be patient," she said, before changing her mind and adding - "or, I can just give him a kick up the butt."

Bucky was definitely avoiding you.

You felt sad, but also exasperated. If he didn't like you, he could come out and say it. There was no need to avoid you as if you were two kids at school.

You finally had your chance one day in the kitchen as he was making a cup of coffee. You knew he could hear you approaching. He didn’t look up at first, his back half-turned, sleeves pushed to his elbows, fiddling with a chipped mug. His hair was a little messy, like he had just woken up, but to you, he looked utterly irresistible. Especially when you saw the plates in his metal arm flex when he heard your voice.

"Bucky, can we talk?" you asked, watching as he cleared his throat.

"'bout what?" he asked, turning to face you, leaning back against the counter. His voice was low, careful.

"Is everything cool between us?"

He was silent, like he was measuring his words before he spoke them.

"Look," you said, "about the other night. I crossed a line, I guess. We're colleagues, and that's probably all it's supposed to be." You tried to smile. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Bucky looked at you with an undecipherable expression, mug long forgotten in his hand. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't make the words line up. Eventually, that expression was replaced by something more neutral. Indifferent.

"It's okay," he said, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "We're friends. It's all good."

You didn't think it could hurt so much to be described as a friend. Part of you so wanted to directly ask him whether or not he liked you - but like you said, it's not like you were kids in school. The question didn't need to be asked. The fact that he had oh-so-clearly friend-zoned you said all you needed to know.

"Okay. Well, don't be a stranger," you said quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

You hadn't cried so much over a guy since you found your prom date in high school making out with another girl.

It was only as you were lying in bed, tears running down your face, that you realized just how far Bucky had wormed his way into your heart.

All your thoughts were consumed by Bucky Barnes. Every hour at work, you willed him to walk into your lab. You yearned for a glimpse of him around the building. Then every moment after work, you wondered about what he was doing, where he was, who he was with.

Heartbreak sucked.

Maybe that was what made you even more sympathetic when you saw John in the corridor one day, clearly in distress, looking more upset than you'd ever seen him.

You paused as you approached, spotting him leaning against the wall with one hand planted against it, the other clutching his phone.

"John? You okay?"

He sniffed, swallowing a lump in his throat as he put his phone away. "Yeah," he grunted, avoiding eye contact. His eyes were wet.

You looked at him knowingly. "Wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's just... Olivia." He looked pained at the mention of his ex-wife. "She said she's going to fight for sole custody."

"Fuck," you said, knowing how hard the separation was on him. Instinctively, you reached out to give him a hug, seeing in his eyes how much he needed a friend.

"Thanks," he sniffed into your shoulder, patting your back gratefully. "Dunno how to deal with this."

"I'm here if you ever need to talk," you said sincerely.

John pulled back and squeezed your shoulder in thanks, before heading down the hallway. You hadn't even taken ten steps in the opposite direction before you bumped into none other than the man who had been plaguing your mind.

"What was that?" Bucky asked, confusing you.

What, no greeting? Not even a 'hello'?

"What was what?" you asked, perplexed.

He stared at you, his blue eyes cold and stoic.

"I guess you just wanted any super soldier, huh," he muttered, his smiling humorlessly. You could tell he regretted the words the moment he said it by the way his face slipped, but it was too late.

You took a step back as if physically pushed. You felt tears sting your eyes, and had to bite your lip to stop the them from falling.

You'd had enough. How dare he speak to you this way?

"You know what - fuck you, Bucky. I don't know what your problem is, but you do not speak to me that way," you spat, trying to sound angry but unable to stop your voice from shaking. He looked stunned at the sight of your face, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I -"

You spun on your heel and walked away as quickly as you could, cutting short his excuses and ignoring him calling your name.

"Okay, what the fuck are you guys doing?" Yelena punctuated her question with a punch to Bucky's shoulder, who scowled back at her.

"What?"

"You going around in circles, trying to pretend like you don't have feelings for her - how has that been working out for you, Barnes?"

Bucky had found himself dragged into an empty conference room by the feisty blonde who seemed determined on injecting herself into every situation. Bucky was not in the mood to entertain her today.

"Stay out of it," he warned.

"No," Yelena said stubbornly. "You're both my friends, and I care about you. Now do you want to be honest and tell me what's going on?"

Bucky knew her well enough by now to recognize the no-nonsense look in her eyes. It didn't take much for him to give in, his mind already torn for the last few days over the situation between the two of you.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I really messed things up, alright? I don't know how to manage this."

"What?" Yelena looked at him like he'd sprouted two heads. "What's so complicated about it? Take her out, pay for her dinner, take her home, bed her." She ticked off the items on her fingers, making Bucky grimace.

"It's not that. I'm over 100 years old. I don't know how to navigate starting a new relationship with someone. Especially someone I care so much about."

Yelena nodded. "Go on," she prompted.

"The shit we do - it's dangerous. Fuck, it's dangerous for her to even be working here, for someone like Valentina.

"She's a grown ass woman, Barnes. She doesn't need to be babied."

"I'm not babying her," Bucky snapped. "I've just never been in this situation before. I've never - I've not gone on a date in decades. I've never been in a real relationship. Every day, we're out there, saving people and trying not to get killed. I don't want her to get caught up in that."

"You're trying to protect her. You're worried you'll put her in some sort of danger if you let her get closer," Yelena said slowly.

"Right." Bucky was exasperated, his jaw clenched. It was such an endless conflict that he had been fighting for months - the urge to get closer to you, simultaneously fighting the fear of what would happen if you got too close.

"I mean, I get that," Yelena shrugged. "Before I met you guys, before this whole New Avengers shit - I was lonely. I was lonely as fuck. And I never let anyone get close to me because - well, I've lost people before."

Bucky knew that she was talking about Natasha, among others. The sadness that ghosted over her eyes was unmissable.

"But - and this is corny as shit, so if you repeat this I will stab you in your sleep - having you guys around me was the best thing that happened to me. You're my team. My people," Yelena said. "And I can tell you know, if you let her in, it will be the best thing to happen to you. Having someone to love and live for will change your life."

"But what if she gets hurt?" Bucky asked, jaw clenching at the mere thought.

"What about worrying less about the hurt you might cause her, and worrying more about the hurt you're causing her now?"

Bucky clenched his fists, imagining your face. How hurt you had looked the last time you spoke. He felt so awful for making you feel that way.

Maybe Yelena was right.

"Love isn't about building walls," came another voice. Bob smiled sheepishly as he pushed open the door.

"Great, someone else to chime in," Bucky said dryly.

"Look, you guys showed me the importance of letting people in. Don't take that choice away from her. You’ve spent so much time trying to protect people. But love isn’t about building walls. It’s about letting someone choose you, demons and all," he smiled, reminiscing about how the team had rallied with him against the Void. "Don’t take that choice away from her."

Fuck.

"I think you might be right," Bucky said eventually.

Yelena's mouth dropped open.

"Oh, seriously - he says one thing and you're convinced."

"Well, he didn’t threaten to stab me in my sleep, so yeah - a bit more persuasive."

The flowers were sat in a vase on your desk in the morning when you arrived to work. They were blue hydrangeas - your favorite. You frowned when you picked up the vase, looking around at your colleagues for an explanation. You were greeted by dumb grins and shrugs of shoulders.

You picked up the card tucked among the flowers, a lump forming in your throat at the message.

I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I've been trying to make amends for. How I've been treating you is high on the list. These flowers aren’t enough, but maybe they’re a start. - Bucky

You placed the flowers back down, eyes starting to well. You quickly marched out of the lab - you didn't have to go very far.

Bucky was leaning against the wall outside, looking down at his boots. He was waiting for you.

"Did you like the flowers?" was the first thing he said, licking his lips.

"I loved them," you said immediately.

"I meant it," he said softly, moving to stand closer to you. "I'm sorry. I haven't always been good at saying how I feel."

You were still confused, but this had to be a good sign. Bucky was looking at you almost pleadingly, like there was so much he wanted to say. You could see it on his face.

"What are you so afraid of?" you asked timidly, trying to coax the unspoken out of him.

"If I let you in, it means I have something to lose," he said finally.

You were taken aback at the raw honesty.

"You won't lose me," you whispered simply. You knew that if he let you in, you were going to be there for good, no matter what.

Bucky met your eyes, his voice thick with emotion. "I've spent a long time keeping people out. Keeping you out." He looked remorseful, and you ached to reach out for him. "I like you. More than I should. And I guess… I'm sick of running from that."

The air between you seemed to still. He stepped even closer, leaning down - slow enough for you to withdraw, if you wanted to.

"So, if you'd let me...I'd like to try." He swallowed, his jaw tightening. He closed the distance between your faces even more, giving you one last chance to pull away.

You didn't even have to think about it. You stretched up on your tip-toes to meet his lips. Your first kiss was gentle, aching, real.

And when he kissed you back - slow but sure, like you were something fragile he never thought he’d be allowed to hold - it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a choice. A beginning.

The beginning of your love story that you'd never imagined you'd get to read.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave me a comment - it really means a lot!

[s-sh-ne]

there are worse games to play [1] bucky barnes x f!reader (hunger games au)

Bucky didn’t expect this. Not the house. Not the woman who had a gun raised to his head one second and was inviting him to dinner the other. Certainly not the smell of homemade stew wafting from her opened windows.

warnings: cozy dystopia, implied hunger games violence, angst, very hurt/comfort, allusions to suicide, implied past deaths, trauma, bucky barnes needs several hugs in every universe, kinda MCU x Hunger Games crossover but I try to really just keep it subtle as I don't like massive crossovers (mentions of Katniss & the gang, but mainly background stuff)

w/c: 4.1k

a/n: this came to me after reading so so so many bucky fics (without even being a marvel girl its insane!) I'm a hunger games super fan and i absolutely adore bucky so when I pictured traumatized!victor! bucky i just had to pump out an entire fic! this is still a wip since it was supposed to be a one shot n then i hit the 10k word mark not even halfway through so i was like this is now a mini series lol enjoy <3333

-> big kudos to so so many bucky fic writers for getting me into this lovely lovely man (including but not limited to @artficlly @fckmebarnes & @marvelstoriesepic <3333 i love your work so much, inspired me to start writing for this man)

-> main masterlist -> tawgtp masterlist

there are worse games to play, james newton howard

The train that once ran from the Capitol to District Twelve had long since been put out of commission, stopping in the bleak station of Six. This district was still bustling with activity but transportation to Twelve was impossible, or so the locals kept repeating. The proof was there, long abandoned freight cars on their side discarded at the station.

“Twelve’s long gone,” They’d said, nodding their head towards the east. Destroyed by the Capitol over four years ago, when everything happened. If people were still there, they lived off their own resources, with no link to any other district. The more Bucky Barnes asked around, the more he realized he’d have to find another way to his destination. He prayed he wouldn’t have to go on foot, hell, he’d beg on his knees not to – not in this heat. Though he’d take the boiling weather over freezing temperatures anytime. 

The air was sweltering, the peak of the summer bearing down on his already sweaty back. Why he’d decided to move across the continent in the middle of the hottest season in Panem, he couldn’t find an answer. Maybe it was because the Capitol was emptier than ever, or maybe because he realized nothing was left back for him in Seven. No matter the reason, he was now dragging his exhausted body across Six’s district center looking for even the smallest mode of transportation he could use. He had money, a lot of it, but it was most likely worthless here. Only a few places accepted dollars after everything. Most of the districts traded, and Bucky had some trinkets leftover from his days in the Capitol, though he supposed the locals could melt the coins down. 

Bucky eventually found an old man willing to trade his old motorbike for a few dollars and silverware. The thing was rusted, old, but would do for the couple days separating him from Twelve. Might be nice to feel the wind against his skin. Might even give him a second to think about what he was gonna do once there. Because yeah, he might’ve planned to leave the Capitol, take little to nothing with him, and travel his way across the country, but he sure as hell hadn’t planned what he was going to do there. 

Maybe the wind would whisper the answers on the road, or maybe he wouldn’t even find them in Twelve. It was a grim thought, but it was the only thing he had going for him, other than returning to the shell of his old life. And returning to that? That was something Bucky Barnes would never, ever, do. 

-

Scorching mornings always made you want to stay in bed, in the soft linens Natasha had just cleaned for you a day prior. The heatwave was brutal this year, so many of your flowers wilted under the unrelenting rays of the sun. Yet, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t survive; your home always got like this during the summer, ever since you were a child. 

You pushed your sheets out of the way, peeking out your small window. The same view you’d seen your entire life greeted you, the overgrown garden your mother had planted decades ago, the tall trees offering the flowers some respite from the sun. The house next door, a small dilapidated thing with daffodil yellow curtains, still stood there, though abandoned for a few years now. Your blue curtains still rustled in the soft summer breeze, wafting in the scent you could only describe as purely District Twelve. 

Iron, flowers, and coal, all mixed together into a perfume you wish you could bottle and cherish for eternity. Because with every passing day since Twelve was destroyed, you could smell the iron and coal slowly leaving the mix, and though the scent of only flowers was lovely, it wasn't home. That prickling, nose-wrinkling smell of coal was home, sticking to everything, to your father’s coat when he came home, to the tools that stuck by the hearth, to even your mother and brother. 

You guessed that was the future now, after everything. 

With one last wistful look outside, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You had a long day ahead of you. You had to make soap for all the inhabitants of your community (all eight of you), stop by Victor’s Village for bread, and tend to your garden before the heat killed it. With a deep breath, you made quick work of braiding your hair and threw on a simple dress, before tying an apron around yourself. Soap-making may be therapeutic to you but you had no intention of getting oil all over your dress. It was hard enough to clean out regular grime with no running water, and the last time you had sheepishly handed your oil-stained clothes to Natasha, she had almost popped a vein in her forehead. 

The warm rays felt like honey on your arms as you opened all the windows in your small kitchen/workspace, letting the fresh breeze in. You gathered your ingredients – the lard Sam had dropped off last week, the lye, the massive jar of dried petals – and got to work. It wasn’t terrible hard work but you still had to heat the fat with the lye for hours before even thinking of the final result.

Your morning was spent wiping sweat from your brow and stirring every so often. The chirping of the birds accompanied your work, the only sound in your small home, the crackling of the fire and your humming. Stray wisps of your hair were stuck to your forehead as you wiped the counters clean, the sun now high in the sky. The soap still had to boil for the better part of the next two days so you made sure your house wasn’t in any risk of catching fire during your absence and covered your large pot. 

You pinned your messy braids atop your head before shrugging off your apron. With a satisfied sigh, you locked your door and set out for the afternoon, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from down the dirt path and the sun beating down on your head. 

-

Bucky’d been riding for the last two days, stopping once to rest against the rusted bike as the moon started to rise. He didn’t get much sleep. The heat was just as unbearable during the night and the dirt wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d slept, but there was a sort of freedom to it. No cage disguised as a gilded penthouse in the Capitol, no relic of a president breathing down his neck. Just him, the hunk of junk he was leaning against, and the stars. When the sun rose, he was already on the bike, kicking up dust as he rode. He passed by the old border compound, separating Six from Twelve, his eyes fixed on the road as dilapidated buildings raced by. 

The roads had deteriorated since the last time he’d been to Twelve, over fifteen years ago now.  There was no sign of through traffic, just cracked concrete with small flowers poking through. He’d planned on stopping in the old District center, if it was still standing. For all he knew no one was there anymore, just a pile of rocks and bones. He still wasn’t sure just what he was doing here, but he was determined to find something. There was nothing left for him in Seven, even less in the Capitol. Hell, he’d ride up to Thirteen if it meant getting the furthest away. 

He drove on for another few hours before the center came into view. It was a grim sight, the image of destroyed buildings and rubble growing as he sped closer. His breath caught as he stopped his bike, looking out at the remains. There was nothing left of the main town square, nothing of the stage he’d once stood on, rattling on about dead tributes. 

Twelve was already a bleak district, but this was beyond dismal. Bucky could see bones sticking out from piles of destroyed concrete, even animals chewing on long decayed bodies. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes scanning the carnage for something, anything that might make this pointless trek of his mean something. He’d heard rumors of people settling back here but there was so much gone that he wasn’t sure he believed them now. He turned his eyes away, his heart in his throat. He’d seen death, he’d lived it even, but this was where he was supposed to find life. To find whoever he was outside of the Capitol’s influence. Outside of the damn grip Snow had on him for years. 

His metal hand gripped the handlebars tightly, running his other hand through his hair. He could go back, live the rest of his life in Seven, with people who didn’t even recognize him anymore. Or he could go back to the Capitol. Alone in his penthouse, mostly destroyed from the rebel attacks, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and ended it. That was how most of his life plans looked like anyways, ever since those damn Games. 

Bucky’s thoughts flickered back to seventeen years ago, standing on that podium. He was just a goddamn kid. He remembered vividly looking at the other tributes, with no clue that they’d all die and he’d live to remember their faces. At that moment, he envied them. He envied them for dying, because he wished he was in their place. Dead before he could experience what the Capitol did, or before everything came crashing down and he was left with nothing. Before he drove all the way across the country to find more fucking death. 

Come on Barnes, snap out of it. You haven’t even seen the rest. Someone’s probably out there somewhere. 

He took a deep breath, lifting his head again to scan the debris. That’s when he spotted a small dirt path leading down a small hill. Better than nothing. He kicked up dust as the engine started and he sped to the road. His heart leaped in his chest at the sight of tire tracks deeply imprinted in the dust, like the road had been used recently. He rode for another minute before two houses came into view. They were small, nothing fancy, just colorful curtains hanging from each window. He turned off his engine, scanning further down the road. There wasn’t anything in his immediate view, but the tire tracks kept going. Maybe if he went further, he’d find something. 

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear her approach. Just heard the sound of a rifle cocking behind him. 

“You got about ten seconds to tell me what the hell you’re doin’ here before I shoot.”

-

You heard the incessant rumble of the engine before you saw it. You’d recently come home from picking up the bread from Peeta and a drink at Sarah’s place, checking on the soap to see how far along it was. The late afternoon was quiet, just the buzz of insects outside your window and the distant call of an elk somewhere deep in the forest. You were washing potatoes for supper, enjoying the cool afternoon breeze when it happened. 

It was low at first but grew louder as you looked out of your window. This wasn’t a normal occurrence, especially not coming from the city center. The only person who had a vehicle in your small community was Steve and it sure as hell didn’t sound like whatever you were hearing. Your mind raced. It could be the settlement out west but when did they ever come from the city center? Nobody came from there anymore. You were the only ones this close to it, and the last person to arrive was Steve three years ago. 

Your hands trembled as you reached for your father’s rifle leaned against the wall next to you. The roar grew louder and the source came into view, finally. You quickly shut the curtains, leaving just a sliver of light for you to peek out. The sound sputtered to a stop as the person parked in front of the neighbouring house, the one with the yellow curtains. Your eyes caught the silhouette of a broad man atop a motorbike, his eyes scanning his surroundings. You couldn’t see much of him, but caught a glint of silver as he stretched out his arms. A fucking metal arm? Oh wonderful. 

Your fingers tightened on your gun, quietly moving to the door, nudging it open with your foot. He was looking down the road leading to Victor’s Village, his eyes fixed away from you, and you took the opportunity to approach him quietly. You cringed slightly as your door squeaked to a close behind you but he didn’t budge. You were able to get right behind him, your eyes scanning the strong planes of his back under his shirt, the metal of his arm shining in the sun. You held your breath, cocked the rifle. Aimed straight at his head.

“You got about ten seconds to tell me what the hell you’re doin’ here before I shoot,” you threatened, and prayed he couldn’t hear the tremble in your voice. His back straightened, his broad shoulders tensing. He slowly raised his arms, still facing away from you. You scanned his back for any weapons, noticing the way his brown hair curled at the base of his nape. He had a single knife strapped to his leg, so you tightened your grip on the gun, your knuckles white. 

“Just passing through,” the man replied carefully. “Didn’t think anyone was left here.” His voice was rough, like it hadn’t been used in days. You stayed silent for a beat longer, fingers twitching against the trigger. 

“Well, there is.” You didn’t say more, just kept the gun aimed at him. His arms still raised, he twisted on the bike to face you. You were met with the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, steadily looking you over. He had heavy dark circles underneath his eyes, betraying exhaustion, and he squinted as he faced the sun. 

“Didn’t mean to cause trouble.” You shakily lowered the gun, but kept your finger on the trigger. Just in case. He looked like he could easily bring you to the ground with a sweep of his legs. 

“Who’re you?” You asked, jerking your chin towards him. He lowered his arms, slowly swinging a leg over the bike to get off. His movements were slow and calculated as if you were a wild animal. 

“Name’s Bucky, ‘m just looking for a place to crash.” ‘Bucky’ said, and your eyes narrowed with familiarity. You couldn’t place it but you were sure you’d seen his face before. Maybe a Peacekeeper? One of the rebels Katniss had fought with? 

“Where’re you from?” You pushed further, still skeptical. His metal arm flexed lightly in the sun and he averted his eyes. 

“Seven” 

“Why'd you come here then?”

“Isn't anything left for me there, “ he shrugged. 

You took a few more seconds to assess him. He could’ve hurt you already if he really wanted to. Bucky answered your questions, didn’t budge unless you’d made the first move, didn’t seem aggressive. Aside from that silver arm. With a sigh, you fully aimed the gun at the ground. You nodded your head towards the house next to yours. 

“That one’s been empty, you can stay there for as long as you need,” you offered. 

He seemed surprised at your switch in attitudes and looked over at the yellow curtains, before shifting his eyes back to yours. 

“It’s fully furnished,” you added. “Last folks didn’ take much when they left.” He gave you a strange look, like he didn’t trust the offer. “Seriously, it’s fine. Ain’t the first newcomer we’ve had.” 

“Alright,” Bucky rested the bike against the rickety fence between the two houses and swung a small pack over his shoulder.

“Travelled all the way from Seven with only that thing?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Seven was the furthest district from yours, on the west coast of the country. You walked down your own pathway, through the wildflowers, still looking at him over the fence. 

“Long story,” He said simply, striding towards the door. You’d reached your door as well, twisting the knob. 

“Tell me about it over dinner.” When he froze at the door and frowned at you, you laughed quietly. “If there’s food in there, it’s cans of beans from twenty years ago. I’m makin’ potato stew, jus’ come over in an hour.” 

Bucky held your stare for a second longer, an unreadable look in his eyes. Then he grunted, nodded, and pushed the door open. Before he stepped through though, he looked back at you.

“Thanks. By the way. Didn't think I’d be sleeping in an actual bed tonight.”

You just smiled at him and closed the door behind you. 

-

Bucky didn’t expect this. Not the house. Not the woman who had a gun raised to his head one second and was inviting him to dinner the other. Certainly not the smell of homemade stew wafting from her opened windows. He was standing outside her door, the sun low in the sky, his metal fingers flexing against his leg. He wasn’t sure if he should knock, call out (he hadn’t even caught her name) or just walk in. That last one seemed like a quick way of getting a bullet in his groin though.

He settled for a knock. Just a soft rap of his knuckles against the worn wood. 

“Just come in! S’open!” her voice called from inside, so casually. Like he wasn’t a total stranger. 

He pushed open the door, walking into the small space. He’d thrown on one of his black shirts, still clinging with sweat and dust, but it was the nicer one of the bunch. He hadn’t expected this level of hospitality, especially not in a spot so desolate as this. 

She was facing away from him, humming a tune he couldn’t place. There was a large pot next to the smaller one she was stirring. The air smelled like flowers, and he quickly located the source of it. Dozens of bouquets were hung upside down in a shadowed corner of the small room, dried and preserved. She turned back to smile at him, as if welcoming a friend. 

“Sit wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a tick.” 

Bucky sat down on a small rickety stool at her table. More flowers spread out on the surface. It was so small in here he felt like he was towering over the whole place, but it was comfortable. Lived in. It had a soul, unlike most places he’d seen and lived in. They sat in silence for a few minutes longer before he cleared his throat and asked for her name. She laughed and answered him, still stirring the stew. The comfortable quiet settled over them once more. He could hear the evening birds chirping, the wind rustling the trees outside. 

“You’re kind.” He stated, breaking the silence once more when she turned to set the pot of stew on the table. She stilled for a second, looking over at him, her lips quirked.

“Well, ain’t much to gain by being rude. My ma taught me that.” 

A bowl of food was pushed towards him, a fresh loaf of bread next to it.

“I guess not,” He waited for her to sit and take the first bite before he grabbed his spoon. He watched her swallow cautiously, old instincts still around to haunt him.  . 

“It’s not poisoned, Bucky,” she teased, her eyes glinting with amusement. His name left her lips for the first time and he felt his lips stretch into a small smile – his first one in weeks. He finally took a bite. It wasn’t very flavorful, but damn, it was the best thing he’d tasted in months. He let out a quiet groan and took another bite. Another chuckle escaped her and she pushed the loaf towards him. 

“Have some, it’s fresh from today.” 

He obliged, tearing himself a piece. They ate in silence, like they weren’t complete strangers. She was still humming, smelling the bread every time she took a bite. The setting sun’s rays were golden, casting a warm glow over the small kitchen. When they both finished, the woman took both their bowls, putting them in the large copper sink under the window. 

“Let me help,” He stood quickly, knocking the stool over. He muttered an apology and she laughed. God, she always laughed. It was a soft sound, quiet but still melodious. 

“I wish you could, but ain’t no runnin’ water in these parts anymore. I’ll go down to the river tomorrow.”

He sat back down, lifting the stool, as she took a seat across from him again. 

“So, Bucky. What’s your story?” She rested her head on her palm, looking over at him expectantly. 

“Not much to say. I came from the Capitol after everything went to shit.”

“Thought you said you were from Seven?”

“Originally.”

Her mouth opened in a small ‘ah’ and urged him to go on. He pretended not to notice her eyes flicking down to his left arm curiously. 

“There’s seriously not much else. I left ‘cause there was nothing back there for me.” As kind as she was, he wasn’t gonna go and tell his entire life story to this woman he’d just met. Her eyes narrowed slightly but she let him off easy. 

“A’right.” 

“There more of you?” He asked after a beat. The grin that had slipped away from her took back its place. 

“Yeah, seven more,” she started, waving vaguely towards the east. “There’s more little settlements all over Twelve but ours is the closest to the District center. Whatever’s left of it, I suppose.”

“Saw it on the way in. I really thought I wasn’t gonna find anyone out here.” 

She sighed, a hand running through her hair. 

“Most of us this close grew up ‘round here. This,” she gestured at the space around them “is where I grew up. Down the road, Sam and Sarah live in their grandparents’ house. Even further down, in Victor’s Village, Peeta, Katniss and Haymitch kinda just live together.”

He knit his eyebrows together at the mention of the last three. Victors, like him. Rebels, unlike him. They’d actually done something against the Capitol’s treatment, while he sat and took it all. 

“What about the other two?” He asked, his voice tight. 

“Natasha and Steve aren’t from Twelve. Tash came down from Thirteen, and Steve’s from Two. Won the 64th Hunger Games.” 

His throat clenched. Another Victor, just a year after his own games. He’d heard in passing Steve Rogers’ victory, but he’d been so deep in his own trauma that he didn’t even acknowledge it. 

“We all live on by relyin’ on each other.” she kept going, not noticing or merely not pressing his discomfort. “Katniss, Tash, and Steve hunt; Sam cures the meat and gives me lard for my soap; I make said soap and some ointments; Peeta bakes;” She pointed at the half-eaten loaf. “Sara and Katniss skin and tan the fur. Then Haymitch stops by for a crude comment or two, and moonshine. Doen’t drink it though, he swore that off years ago, jus’ makes it now.” And with a small smirk, “Finally, we got Red, Sam and Sara’s goat. Got a real attitude that one.”

“You make soap?” Bucky’s eyes darted to the massive pot still heating behind her. 

“Mhm, ever since I was a girl. My daddy was a coal miner, so my ma made soap for him all the time. So she could see his handsome face, she’d say.” 

A rough laugh escaped him. For a woman he’d just met mere hours ago, she was so kind to him. He’d known acknowledgement, camaraderie even on his way over, but this was genuine warmth. Homeliness. Something he hadn’t had in decades. 

“You should go down to Tash’s place tomorrow. She takes care of our cleaning, believe it or not, swears the forest’s water’s cleaner than the creek behind our houses.” 

“You sayin’ I stink?” She snickered again, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m sayin’, your shirt’s dustier than my shed, I think you could use some clean clothes.”

The rest of the evening was filled with quiet laughter, fresh bread, and even fruit from her garden, before Bucky left her home with the second half of the bread. As he walked the short path to his doorstep, he looked up at the stars that kept him company during his lonely travels, and smiled to himself. An entire community, built on respect and sharing. Maybe he’d find something here. Something worth sticking around for. 

-

deep in the meadow, under the willow next chapter

[triptuckers]

you're not alone - bob reynolds

Request: nope Pairing: bob reynolds x reader Summary: when you wake up early, you find out you're not the only one who's awake Warnings: THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS !! bit of angst (happy ending I promise), mentions of nightmares, mentions of past trauma, loss of loved ones, bob being a lil sad :( Word count: 2.5K A/N: listen it's very simple. I saw thunderbolts. I saw lewis pullman. that's it. enjoy!

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your eyes snap open as you blindly reach for the knife you keep under your pillow. but instead of an intruder, your blade meets empty space.

the only sound in your dimly lit room is your heavy breathing. damn these stupid nightmares. you were close to asking yelena if she could just knock you out so you could get some sleep.

you return the knife and lay back down.

but now that you're awake, and adrenaline is coursing through your body, it's hard to go back to sleep again. you haven't really spoken about it to anyone, but you know you're not the only one who has nightmares.

yours got worse after a mission was intense or had nearly gone wrong. you'd been doing the odd job here and there for valentina when she'd send you to go after someone who was going to rob one of her facilities.

but when you finally made it to the vault, you weren't met with just any robber. instead, you were met with a bunch people who seemed to have gotten the exact same assignment as you.

you were all there to kill each other. messy ends tying up themselves. after all, doing the dirty work was what you were good at. it's what you were trained for. follow orders, go in and out quickly, get the job done.

but instead of fighting these people, you worked together once you figured out valentina's real plan.

the next couple of days were a whirlwind of adrenaline, fighting, a lot of confusion and very little sleep.

you'd been trying to catch up on rest now that you've got a room in the former avengers tower, but after reliving your worst memories, the nightmares came back stronger and more intense than ever. all the details were there now, and you couldn't forget them.

you finally had a place where you could safely rest, and yet you didn't get more than two hours of sleep a night - if you were lucky.

you're looking around the room now. devoid of personality. you didn't have many personal belongings to take with you. mostly the weapons you carried and the clothes on your back.

taking yelena's advice, you'd gotten dark curtains to keep out the light. she said it helped her fall asleep. it didn't really help you much, but you were grateful for her advice nonetheless.

there's a dim glow coming from a gap in the curtains. you push the sheets off of you and walk over to the window.

way down below, new york was slowly waking up. people on their way to their work, or out on an early morning run. you glance over your shoulder at the alarm clock. almost 5 am. not too bad. it's more morning than night, and you decide that's acceptable for today.

you pull on a pair of socks and blindly grab a sweater. maybe you could use the extra time you got now by planning in an extra training session. it always helped clear your mind after a short night filled with bad dreams.

the hallway is dark when you exit your room. as you make your way to the kitchen, you wonder what else you could do today. there weren't any missions for you planned.

bucky was off on an assignment with sam, and alexei hadn't been home for a little over a week. maybe you could ask yelena or ava if they were up for a sparring session.

you enter the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the big light as you open the fridge.

the light seeps out and illuminates a figure standing on the other end of the kitchen island.

you reach for the nearest kitchen knife as bob turns on the light.

'jesus.' you breathe. 'bob. you scared me.'

'sorry!' says bob, visibly upset that he startled you. 'I'm sorry! I thought you saw me.'

'you're good, don't worry about it.' you say, returning the kitchen knife. 'I'm just a little jumpy, that's all.'

'I was about to make breakfast, do you want some as well?' asks bob.

'yeah sure, that sounds nice.' you say. 'thanks.'

bob walks over to you and smiles. somehow you didn't understand how someone like bob could also be the void. the two seemed so different from each other.

you make coffee as bob gets started on breakfast for the two of you. you pour a cup for bob and slide it over to him. then you take your own cup and move to sit at the kitchen island.

'what were you doing up this early?' he asks.

'couldn't sleep.' you say.

'nightmares?'

'yes.'

there's no point in lying. everyone here has nightmares. you'd be terrified of one of your new roommates if they didn't. you didn't live a life like the one you did and be able to sleep at night.

'want to talk about it?' says bob.

you really appreciate bob. he's always helping you, telling you he'll listen to you. always the first to welcome you back when you return to the tower after a mission. and right now, he's making you breakfast.

but as much as you appreciate him, reliving your worst trauma's because of the void was something that felt too personal to share. especially since bob doesn't remember anything.

you'd told him about the day the void had half of new york trapped in their most traumatic moments. you figured he deserved to know. you also knew he felt terrible about it, and you didn't want to remind him of it.

'no, it's fine.' you say.

bob nods as he turns around and sets a plate with eggs in front of you, as well as some toast.

'thanks.' you say as bob sits down next to you with his own plate. you notice he's careful not to touch you. he doesn't really talk about what happened, but you know it's hard for him. you just don't want to push him. he'll talk to you when he's ready. but you're desperate for him to know it's okay to talk to you, should he choose to do so.

you study his face as he eats his breakfast. you know he's tired too. he was awake when you went to bed last night, and he was up before you as well. the dark circles under his eyes seem to be permanent.

'bob?' you say.

he turns to look at you.

'why were you awake?'

'I was up all night reading a book yelena got me. it was so interesting I couldn't put it away.'

'bob. you told me that last week.'

'I did?'

'yes. when I asked you why you were still awake when I got back from a meeting at 3 am.'

'oh.'

you turn your chair to fully face him. bob leans back, so you're not accidentally touching him.

'what is going on, bob? I know we're all tired. but at least I get a handful of hours of sleep at night. do you sleep at all?' you say.

bob looks everywhere but your eyes.

'what are your nightmares about?' he asks you, catching you off guard.

'uh, well. bad stuff.' you say.

'will you tell me about it?'

'I'd rather not.'

'then I won't tell you why I don't sleep.'

bob grabs his plate gets up and instinctively, you reach out to grab his sleeve and pull him back.

he inhales sharply and recoils from your touch. the plate falls from his hands and clatters back down on the counter.

'sorry!' you say.

you see bob close his eyes and clench his jaw. you had made a mistake.

'I'm sorry.' you say again. 'I just... don't really talk about what happens in my nightmares. what I have to relive at night.'

your last sentence catches his attention.

'relive?' he says.

'fuck, did I say relive?' you say. 'I meant-'

'did I make it worse?' says bob.

'I didn't mean-' you start.

'don't do that!' bob cuts you off.

you raise your hands as a gesture of surrender.

this time, bob is the one to apologise. 'sorry. it's just that everyone always says this team is built on trust and yet no one seems to trust me. I'm not a child, you don't need to act all careful around me. you don't have to hide the bad stuff from me just because I can't remember what I, what the void, does.'

you're silent as you watch him fidget with the empty coffee cup in his hands. and you realise he's right. you can't tiptoe around him all the time. it's not fair.

'okay.' you say.

'okay?' questions bob, looking at you.

'okay, I'll tell you what my nightmares are about. but then you tell me why you don't sleep, deal?' you say.

'deal.' says bob.

'let's go to your armchair though, I don't want john accidentally walking in on me spilling my secrets.' you say, trying to lighten the mood.

bob is silent as he follows you. he sits down in his chair and you sit down on the couch next to him.

you take a deep breath as bob looks at you.

'as you know, I had a training that was similar to yelena's. I was young, and was trained to be a mindless soldier, assassin, whatever they called it at the time.' you say.

you look out over the skyline of new york, choosing to focus on bob's presence next to you, in case the memories start to drown you.

'I was training night and day. with other kids, then with older trainers, and then with holograms. to test every single probability, variable, whatever. then came the final round of training. holograms designed to look like the people I loved the most. friends I had when I was younger, my family. in a simulation, I was to kill them over and over again. I wore this specifically designed suit so everything felt real.' you say.

you look at the rising sun in the distance, aware of the way bob's eyes are fixed on you.

you take a deep breath. 'the final test, it was not a simulation. there was no holographic target. except I wasn't told that. I put on the suit, the glasses, everything that went with it. and then I killed everyone I'd ever loved. when I got the clear to take off the suit, the room was stained red. I was looking at the bodies of my friends, my family. that was the day I succeeded the program. I had nothing anyone could use against me. no one who would remember me.'

you quickly wipe away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. 'I relive that memory every night. except when the void got to me, it felt like it did that day. it felt real.'

bob is silent as you take a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself.

'that's why I don't sleep.' he says in a soft voice.

you turn to look at him.

'what do you mean?' you say.

'what you described, your worst memory. to have to relive it in such a real way. I did that.' he says. 'I do that to people.'

'no.' you say, moving closer to him. 'no, bob, the void does that to people. not you. you hear me?'

'still though, he's a part of me.' says bob, who hasn't moved away from you this time. your knees almost touch.

'I don't sleep because I'm afraid if I wake up, days will have passed. and I won't have any memory of any harm I've done to people.' bob confesses in a soft voice.

'oh, bob.' you say. you wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him in for a hug, but you know you can't.

'I'm terrified of hurting you guys again. I don't know how to stop him if it would happen again.' says bob. 'I don't want to go to sleep alone. what if I wake up somewhere else?'

'well..' you say. 'that's easily solvable.'

'how?' says bob.

you shrug. 'we share a room. or I can sit next to you when you go to sleep in your own room. or if you take a nap in your chair, here. anywhere, really.'

'and then what? what if the- what if he takes over? what if-'

'then I'll try my best to wake you. I'll go through all of those rooms to find you.'

'you just told me what you had to relive. I wouldn't want you to go through that again. not for my sake, anyway.'

'bob. how many times do I have to tell you for you to finally understand it? you are not alone anymore. we've got you. I've got you.'

bob looks at you with an odd look in his eyes.

'I really wish I could hug you.' he says.

you smile. 'you can.'

'but-'

'stand up.'

he gives you a confusing look but does as you ask. you stand up as well, then gesture at him.

'you're taller than I am. so long as your hands don't touch any of my skin, we should be good.' you explain.

'I don't want to accidentally send you back.' mumbles bob.

'you won't. I trust you.' you say.

you step closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. you feel his muscles strain as he tenses at your touch. then you slowly feel his hands carefully rest on your back.

you wonder when the last time was anyone hugged him. you long to be closer to him, to press your face in his neck, but you stand still.

'thank you.' says bob softly when you finally pull away. you smile up at him.

'see? told you it would be okay. now, do you want to go and take a nap? we can still get up in time for everyone else to wake up, if you want to.' you say.

'that sounds nice.' admits bob.

you look at him and a part of you swears he looks happier than before. or at least lighter. maybe he just needed to get this fear off of his chest. maybe you needed someone to listen to you as well.

something in you shifts as you follow bob to his room so he could take a nap.

'can't remember the last time I voluntarily went to sleep.' says bob as he enters his room. 'you'll be here?'

'I'll be here.' you confirm. 'and I'll get you out if the void takes over.'

'you promise?' says bob, as he lays down and pulls the covers over his body.

'I promise.' you say as you listen to his breathing become heavier until he falls asleep and soft snores fill the room. you'd stay next to him for as long as he needed you to.

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

[thats-a-lie-also]

Just gonna leave this here for all you brilliant Yelena and Thunderbolts* fic writers.

[lewinblue]

Sunny my dear, may I offer you some Bob Reynolds thoughts/thots?? I dunno if you've seen Thunderbolts yet but I thought this might help with the writer's block. Some of these are headcannons I've shared with other people but I hoped to be able to share them with you.

-You and Bob kinda quietly retreated to the lake house Thor built for you guys in Asgard (the rest of the Avengers each have one and it's tailored to their needs and wants) and it's become your own personal safe haven.

-Bob did tons of planting when you guys first really began to settle there. He's planted lilacs, rose bushes, rhododendrons, bluebells and all sorts of good pollenator flowers. His favorite spot though is the meadow with all the wildflowers and the dots of color amidst the green. Sometimes he'll come back with a handful of dandelions, white bedstraw, black eyed susans, queen anne's lace and a bunch of other colorful blooms, but the minute you hear him yelling "Cucumber", you know he's about to have a crazy sneezing fit.

-He's a wicked healthy eater. It's something he started doing to try and balance himself out, especially when he's having kind of a low day. He can't live without the eggs, milk, veggies, fresh meat and especially the fruits Thor brings by every now and again. He's definitely got all the super exotic ones that you can't get anywhere else including ones that were grown in Frigga's garden.

-You and Bob have a bunch of books on the shelves in the finished basement of the lake house. There's tons of books on the American Revolution and The Civil War which you and Bob will look at for hours in the hammock, listening to the birds and the slapping of water against the dock.

-Bob's a huge bookworm but he also loves the classics as well. He can't get enough of books like The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, Gulliver's Travels, Anne Of Green Gables or Treasure Island. He loves when you read aloud to him before bed, the windows open and the peepers chirping outside.

-Bob absolutely LOVES when you guys go swimming in the lake. He runs hot anyways but especially in the summer and needs to cool off frequently. He's like an otter in the water and will literally come back with the weirdest shit like gold and little treasure boxes full of jewelry (lol).

-Bob's definitely a critter guy, especially with Yelena's guinea pigs. He's literally built an indoor tunnel and obstacle course for Buster and Cucumber and keeps them well fed with a plate full of cucumbers, carrots and cilantro in the fridge at all times. You were amazed though when Bob very carefully helped Cucumber deliver six little baby guinea pigs (keeping Buster in a separate cage was a pain lol). You and him love seeing the tiny little fluffballs trailing after their parents in a little line behind them (lol).

That's all I've got for the moment Sunny, I hope this at least brings a smile to your face.

I love these! ❤️

I imagine Bob to be a major homebody. It takes him a while to get comfortable with you and his surroundings but as soon as he does you couldn’t pry him off of you even if you tried.

I agree he’s probably a super healthy eater but it’s a result of him learning how to garden. His reasoning is “I grew it. How can I not eat it?” Next thing he knows he’s going from cheeseburgers and milkshakes to salad, smoothies and other things all from the things he grew.

He definitely loves when you read to him. It’s soothing but one day you mention how much you like his voice so he starts reading aloud for you. It takes him a second to get confidence but once he gets going there’s no stopping him. Plus, I HC that the two of you switch books every night and have a nightly reading hour before bed.

[tvseries-writings]

Bad addiction

Plot: After an interrogation gone wrong, it is hard not to fall back into old habits and make questionable choices

TW: alcohol addiction, past suicide attempt, depression

Wandanat x Bioquake (Jemma x Daisy) x Bobbi x reader

Many people say that silence is the most deafening sound, more so than any other sound, even more so than the sound of a mine being blasted to extract the precious minerals it contains. And now, as you sit in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, looking down at the still-unbroken bottle of vodka in the complete silence that surrounds the room, you realize that these people are right.

It is 3:45 a.m. on a dreary Saturday morning, and that boy's face, imprinted in your mind, has kept you from sleeping and at the same time made you open the bus locker that Jemma had diligently locked as soon as she learned of your "not-so-little" problem.

In your world, everyone has tattooed on their body the first words their soul mate will say when they first meet.

You have to admit that in the unhappy and violent family you grew up in, it was no big deal to have five different phrases tattooed on your back due to some hideous flaw in the system. Two soul mates was abnormal enough, but five? Inconceivable, and Mark, your stepfather, had reminded you of it over and over again until one fine day he died of a heart attack. Of course, the moment he had collapsed in front of you, you hadn't run for help... Besides, they say there is no such thing as karma.

Bobbi was the first of the five mysterious soul mates you met and fell madly in love with. It was Bobbi who brought you into S.H.I.E.L.D. shortly after recruiting Daisy (then Skye), and who finally put a face to two of the people whose words she had tattooed on her right forearm.

"I want to be your sponsor, I want you to get better."

It was Bobbi who helped you out of the maelstrom that had engulfed you, who helped you to what would become six full years of sobriety. Six years without a single drop of your trusty friend alcohol in your stomach. She became your sponsor, was with you day and night, held you while you puked your guts out in the filthy bathroom of a bar at five in the morning, and whispered tough words to you when you told her you wanted to quit. You don't know where you'd be without her. In fact, you don't know where you'd be without all of them. Jemma, Bobbi, Daisy, Wanda, and Natasha are your rock and always will be. But today, today you have to forget and they may be your rock but unfortunately they have far too many demons to face and yours you might as well keep to yourself.

With a knot in your stomach and nausea, you uncork the bottle. The pungent smell of vodka burns your sinuses as you carefully place the cap on the counter. The concave side facing down, just like at the bar. Your fingers tighten around the thinnest part, the contact of your skin with the cold glass makes you shiver, and for a moment, just a single moment, you think you don't want to throw away these six long years of sacrifice, and then... then the boy's face hits you like a slap in the face. Actually, the slap would hurt a lot less.

He was just a boy, a young soldier molded by Hydra who had killed himself to give in during your interrogation. You had been too harsh and too slow to stop him, and you had not stopped him, and he had broken his right cheekbone, causing the small cyanide capsule placed there, just below the surface, to rupture. That boy was walking around with a time bomb between his eye and his nose, and he had done it voluntarily, killing himself with that same bomb. He had killed himself in front of you, his name was Gideon and he had just turned nineteen. And he was dead, he was dead because you were not focused enough, because you were the one who pushed him to do it and now he was gone. He should have had his whole life ahead of him, he had just been subjugated, but now, now there was no chance of redemption for him. So you punished yourself, nothing new, the bullet in your right leg is proof of that...even though you had stopped the bleeding by now. You just needed to punish yourself, that's all. And the bottle you hold in your fingers serves the same purpose as the bullet.

"What are you doing?"

The sound is so sudden and unexpected that you let go of the bottle and it shatters on the floor of the bus. The plane continues its course as if nothing had happened. How fascinating machines are, so emotionally numbing and yet indispensable.

Bobbi approaches you slowly, as if afraid to frighten you. Her hair is disheveled and her expression is a mixture of concern and weariness. You swallow, begin to shake your head and fall to your knees, repeating the words "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry" as you fiercely pick up the shards of glass from the bottle.

"Stop or you'll get hurt."

The blonde girl is not even in time to say these words before a piece of glass gets stuck in your hand, causing a deep cut that begins to bleed profusely. You don't notice and Bobbi is scared to death. You don't feel the pain and, on the contrary, you continue to clear your mind.

Perhaps you have become a machine too, emotionally numb. Damn, how you want it; to feel no more pain - isn't that the human dilemma?

Bobbi snaps forward, tired of seeing you hurt again and again, and grabs your wrists with her hands to stop you; it works. You suddenly freeze, avoiding eye contact and not saying a word. Bobbi never loses sight of you for a minute as she gets up to get a cloth to dab the wound and stop the bleeding.

You stay like this for about ten minutes, in silence, while Bobbi bandages your wound with two stitches for "safety". He wraps your hand, but when he is done, he does not pull away, contrary to what you expected. Instead, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making your eyes meet before breaking the silence.

"Do you ou want to tell me what happened?"

You always said that Bobbi, as an alternative to super badass spy, might as well have been a psychologist (as well as a model, of course). In fact, her tone is exactly what one would expect from a psychologist; gentle but detached. In a warm but cool clarity of action. In the art of weighing words that only Bobbi is capable of, and in which she is the first even to Jemma.

When she realizes you have no intention of answering, her hand quickly finds your leg.

"Have you been drinking?"

You bite your lip and shake your head slowly.

A small smile curls her lips as she leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Well... you did good rockstar."

Bobbi rests her forehead against yours, caressing your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

"We're both tired and need to sleep, especially you. I'm not dropping the subject, and it's definitely something we'll discuss in the morning, but until then, until then, we're going to bed with the others. And I don't want to hear any objections."

You follow her, whatever she wants, you're going to give it to her. You owe it to her after the shit you wanted to do tonight; not that you wouldn't have done it if you had gone back. But now, now is a thought that has to be put off until the morning.

Bobbi tucks you in and wraps her arms around your sides, hugging you from behind. Your nose breathes in the lavender scent of Diasy and the vanilla scent of Wanda as Nat's soft snoring and Jemma's recovered words accompany you into the world of Morpheus.

.........................................................................................

As soon as you wake up, the weight of the conversation you're likely to have with your soul mates hits you harder than you'd like. And if you hate getting up on other days, today is even harder.

You get out of bed and walk down the hall with the same agony as a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

No, a condemned man is better off than you. At least he has the consolation of death; you, on the other hand, have only the certainty of a head-spanking from your girls.

It's barely 10 a.m., and your girls' voices echo down the narrow, cold hallway leading to the kitchen. As soon as your head pokes through the door, the voices stop.

"Hey."

Your stomach turns as you sit down in the only empty chair.

Wanda is at the stove, Natasha behind her, trying to help, even though you all know the Russian spy is anything but a good cook. Instead, Daisy, Jemma and Bobbi are all three at the table. Needless to say, all eyes are on you.

Wanda places a stack of pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table and with a shy smile invites you to help yourself to her delicious masterpieces.

You are not hungry. The silence between you is so strange, so different... that it has created a knot in your stomach. You are sure that if you even tried to take a bite of Wanda's pancakes, you would immediately run to the bathroom and throw up.

It is not you who breaks the silence, nor is it Bobbi; contrary to what you might have expected, it is Daisy who does so. Well, maybe you should have seen it coming.

"How could you even think that?"

You know very well that it is not a question. The others know it too.

The young superheroine wants to know the reason that almost made you break your promise.

Not that you could forget that promise. How could you?

It's hard to forget the feel of your girls' damp, heavy clothes and the sting of their deeply disappointed stares as you limped into the foyer of your simple, unassuming Manhattan apartment, staggering around with a bottle of vodka in your right hand and a gun in the other with only one bullet in the clip. It is hard to forget the look of terror on her face as you squeeze the trigger three times in a row, the cold metal of the barrel burning your temple. It is impossible to forget their screams as Natasha lunges at you, at the exact moment when you pull the damn trigger for the fourth time in front of their disbelieving, frightened, terrified eyes, and the bullet lodges on the wall behind you; inches from your head, as the gun, now unloaded, is kicked away from the Russian spy. It is impossible to forget the promise you made to them about never touching even a drop of alcohol again.

Over time, you have learned so many terrible things that you have trouble falling asleep at night. And when they say that addictions of any kind don't change a person...they lie. Fuck, how they lie. Lying bastards in an age of lies. An addiction changes you. No choking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I - yesterday was hard, the mission - I'm sorry."

You don't look up, you don't meet the eyes that you learned to love and accept only after a long time. You don't have the courage, you can't look at the most important people in your life, knowing that you made them suffer again. How many more times will you have to hurt them before they realize they no longer want you in their lives?

Bobbi sighs and shakes her head slowly. He gives you a small smile, just a hint of the one you loved before anyone else. She squeezes your thigh and reaches her hand out from under the table.

"We're not mad, we're just worried rockstar."

"Bobbi's right, Detka, we are scared that what happened years ago might happen again."

Wanda plays with the rings you exchanged when you all decided to move in together.

Natasha doesn't speak; she just watches you in silence. So does Jemma.

Daisy, on the other hand, seems on the verge of exploding, and that's exactly what she does.

"You can't do this to us again, okay? Do you know how long it took us to get over that? We still have nightmares about that night and you know it! How could you even think of drinking? You had to talk to us about it, you had to..."

Bobbi interrupts the inhuman, wrapping her arm around her hips and holding her close as she plants small kisses on the top of her head.

"He killed himself right in front of me, Daisy! He was a young boy, he had his whole life ahead of him and I didn't stop him!"

You slam your hand down on the kitchen counter, carefully away from your soul mates, using so much force that the deep cut you made the night before reopens and the bandage quickly soaks with blood.

A small grimace crosses your face as soon as your hand hits the marble surface.

"Y/n!"

Jemma takes your hand between her own, examining the wound medically and glancing at Bobbi as Wanda runs to the first aid kit in the bathroom.

"Honey, it's not your fault. The only culprit in all of this is Hydra. Yes, the boy was young, but he was aware of his choices."

Natasha strokes your back as Jemma uses needle and thread to sew up the cut on your palm. Jemma is about to put the fourth back on when you pull your hand away from her loving care and turn away from your girls.

"Y/n, please come back, I'm not done yet."

You look away; your left arm falls back at your side and small drops of blood run down your hand and fall to the floor. Your only desire now is to hold on to the bottle and drink until you see the empty bottom. You do not deserve their love, let alone their understanding.

"You're thinking very hard, detka," Wanda whispers, holding out her hand to you, and when you don't take it, intertwining your fingers, the hurt look on the Sokovian's face makes your heart clench.

"I thought I had overcome my addiction, and yet when some event shakes me, I am still in the grip of my emotions and it sucks....You want to know if I still want to drink? Yes, it gets stronger and stronger and it will never go away. That's the problem, I... I don't know if I can live with that for the rest of my life.

You all feel the small gasp that leaves the telepath's lips as she looks into your mind.

"Last night I... I took your gun," you whisper, turning your gaze to Natasha, "I know the password to the safe where you hide it; besides, it's not hard, just remember the day you first came into my life, and yes, yesterday I took the gun and put it to my temple, but I didn't pull the trigger, I didn't, okay? Just like I didn't touch the bottle of alcohol in front of me, so yes, I'm not okay, I'm shaken by what happened and part of me will always want to end it, but I'm not going to make you go through this again. I love you too much to hurt you like that again."

You scratch nervously at your wound, pinching your stitches before a gentle hand stops you. Jemma takes your hand back and makes the final stitches as the girls surround you.

"It's going to be okay honey, we're going to get through this too, but you need to go back and see Dr. Garner."

You sigh and shake your head before being stopped by a rather pissed off inhuman.

"I don't think you have a choice, so you're going to do what we say, okay?"

You sigh, nodding slightly as you begin to find the steel floor beneath your feet particularly interesting.

"Y/n, where did you leave the gun?"

Bobbi whispers and the question that has been hanging in the air until now is asked.

You teleport to your bedroom and retrieve the gun from its hiding place, where it had been masterfully concealed among some of your old clothes, and then Teleport back to the kitchen and hand the gun to Bobbi. The blonde takes it and slides the magazine out of the black Glock she holds in her hands, and when she does, your heart stops. You didn't think he would check.

"Y/n...? One bullet is missing-"

Daisy grabs the clip before Bobbi can finish her sentence,

"Are you fucking serious? You did this? You lied to our faces?!"

"I, it's not what it looks like."

Your throat goes dry as you look for the nearest chair to sit in; you wrinkle your nose as the bandage you've been so busy tightening around your thigh rubs painfully against the wound. And while the other girls are too busy trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda reads your mind and her eyes go wide as she falls to her knees in front of you. The other girls look at her with confusion and concern before the Sokovian speaks.

"Detka, Detka, where is the wound?"

Your breath catches and you freeze. They can't take away the pain you feel, they can't - you don't deserve the relief, you don't.

"N-no! Me, it's okay, I took care of it, I'm fine."

Natasha, who had been silent until that moment, steps forward and pulls your pants down before you can even think of stopping her.

The blood-soaked bandage shifts to reveal the bleeding, red wound; an ongoing infection, most likely -- after all, you didn't put any disinfectant on it, and the only thing you cared about was wrapping it tightly with a bandage so you wouldn't lose too much blood. You don't even know if the bullet got out, but considering your teleportation skills, it probably did. The only reason you don't stay naked every time you teleport is because Fitz made all your clothes out of a dwarf material that apparently allows you to stay clothed.

"Damn it!"

Natasha says, leaning over your thigh and looking at Jemma, urging her to get the first aid kit. The biochemist runs to the bathroom and returns in less than a minute with the kit in her hands. You kneel down next to the former Russian spy before putting on your gloves and cutting off the now completely useless blindfold.

Bobbi walks over to you and places a hand on your forehead to check your temperature before asking Natasha to hand her the thermometer.

"She's warm, I think the wound is giving her an infection."

Bobbi puts the thermometer to your lips, and when you make it clear that you are not going to take your temperature, Bobbi raises her right eyebrow and looks at you intently.

"Rockstar, I don't want to force you to open your lips, but you really messed up, your health is not the best right now and we're really worried, so please, please... help us help you, okay?"

Bobbi's voice breaks as her look of pain and concern finally makes you realize how much this, how much YOU are costing them...so you do everything they tell you and a full twenty-five minutes pass before you are finally patched up and lying on a cot in the infirmary.

"Why did you do this? Are you... do we have to take you off missions? Are you trying to hurt yourself?" Natasha approaches the edge of the bed, resting a hand on your good leg.

"Obviously, considering what he did."

Daisy blurts out, and the fact that she relies so heavily on her sarcasm lets you know that she is genuinely worried about you.You bite your lip, a small sigh rippling the air around you as you trace the bandage on your hand with your thumb, distracting yourself from the conversation you are about to have.

"I... just wanted... I needed to feel physical pain, and not the kind of pain that tears you up inside. I just needed to feel nothing, just for a little while...I'm sorry."

Jemma squeezes the IV bag and, after a final glance at the monitor showing your blood pressure and heart rate, sits down in the empty chair to your left before taking your hand between her own.

"We're going to help you, okay? It's going to be okay, we're going to be with you every step of the way, and we're going to get through this, just like we did before."

"But we need you to help us, rock star."

"And you need to tell us how you feel, especially if it makes you do things...dangerous for yourself, detka" Wanda comes over and gives you a small smile with eyes full of concern, just like the other girls.

Daisy crosses her arms under her breasts and you see worry and anger distorting her face and then, to the surprise of you all, the inhuman bursts into tears. Sobs shake your body and your need to embrace her makes you get out of bed and reach out to her, hiding a grimace of pain.

"Dee, Daisy, hey, it's okay love, I'm sorry, I know how that night left a deep scar on you, I... when certain thoughts come, I can't think straight... I can't think at all, damn it. I don't... I don't think about how much damage what my mind is telling me to do could do to you. I'm sorry, my love."

Daisy throws herself into your arms, causing you to fall back onto the cot as the inhuman wets your shirt with her tears.

"I know what it feels like to want the pain to stop, many of us do it”. Your body stiffens at the thought that at least once both Natasha and Wanda and Daisy felt exactly what you felt and are feeling now, "but you are not alone, I know you feel alone but you are not. We are here and we love you so much it hurts..."

"I am so sorry...I, I will try to get better, I want to, for you and to finally be well without having to resort to pain or alcohol."

You whisper, leaving kisses in Daisy's hair as you hold her close. Your girls stand still, letting the inhuman vent before they too join your embrace.

They say nothing, they don't need to. The fact that they are there, their warmth is more than enough and they bring you a slight relief and the burden you have been carrying for so long finally lightens... at least for now.

Thanks for reading! Spoiler: some poly!aos x wandanat x reader is coming! Comment, like and support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[wildbriars]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Thunderbolts (Movie 2025), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Yelena Belova/Robert "Bob" Reynolds, James "Bucky" Barnes & Yelena Belova & Robert "Bob" Reynolds & Alexei Shostakov & Ava Starr & John Walker, Yelena Belova & Alexei Shostakov, Clint Barton & Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop Characters: Robert "Bob" Reynolds (Marvel), Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, James "Bucky" Barnes, Ava Starr, John Walker (Marvel), Clint Barton, Kate Bishop, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Clint Barton's Family Members Additional Tags: Christmas Fluff, Team Bonding, Character Study, Introspection, Healing, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Getting Together Summary:

Bucky scoffs. “Alright, just… lay off the congressman thing already, huh? I said we could call it off if we wanted to.”

“Yes,” Yelena says, “and we want to, which means we are calling it off.”

“Great.” Bob is still staring openly at her—in awe or in terror, or a little bit of both. “So, then, what are we doing?”

“About what?”

“About, uh, Christmas.”

In which the team bails on a job from Valentina in favour of spending the holidays together.

[strawberrycables]

i ask this genuinely: is it just me or do fics with no smut get virtually no engagement now?

seemingly it creates a cycle of writers only writing smut because it's the only genre that gets interaction, which in turn encourages writers to include smut as it becomes a sort of norm and requirement if you're going to publish something for a character.

I do believe we go through patterns and trends within fandom spaces, and right now it seems to be an emphasis on smut, dark fics, or fics that take place in darker aus. fics in other genres very rarely perform well, especially in contrast to numbers from a few years ago.

series have it even worse, especially series that have no smut guaranteed. i scrolled through the top bucky x reader posts in the last year-- every story over 3.5k notes was a smut fic, other than 2 (it may have been more varied as i continued, but i scrolled for a pretty long time)

i don't mean in this in a 'puritan sex evil everything you write must be a exploration of the human condition way' but as a 'what does this say about the current state of reading and engagement in fandom especially in the context of current trends of reading elsewhere'

[dearstvckyx]

I might have to start writing for bob now… and John walker, cause let’s be honest: TB!Walker >>> TFATWS!Walker

[saiilorstars]

Who Done it?

Bucky Barnes x OFC

Story Summary: Bucky breaks his girlfriend's coffee maker and decides to make it everyone else's problem.

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​ ​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​ @gloryekaterina​​ @lenonizi​ @averyhotchner​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes​​​​​​​​​​​​

Oneshots Masterlist • Chloe’s Masterlist​​

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

It was a nice morning, one like usual. Chloe woke up thanks to Bucky so subtly moving around the room getting ready for the day.

"I don't understand how you were ever the winter soldier when you move like that," she muttered grumpily. In her opinion, he was so loud.

Bucky chuckled and called her out on her grumpiness. "Can I make it up with some coffee?"

"You thought you weren't?" Chloe retorted, tossing the covers to the side and getting out of bed. "Oh, no, no, James. This is going to cost you. Coffee — now."

Bucky gave her a mock salute and left the room to get started on his apology. Like it was his fault that she was the world's lightest sleeper.

A fly could wake her up.

~0~

Chloe emerged from the bedroom about 5 minutes later and headed straight to the kitchen. She was already envisioning her sweet morning coffee, so when she smelled burning coffee, she knew something else was going to happen.

She entered the kitchen to see her favorite coffee maker steaming and with a wide hole on the side…like someone had punched through it.

And then there was one guilty Bucky Barnes standing on the other side of the isle.

"…you broke my coffee maker?"

"Well, 'broke' is a…strong word…" Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly.

Chloe's eyes narrowed on her boyfriend. "You broke my coffee maker."

"I did not 'break it', I…gently tapped it…"

"You gently tapped a hole into it?"

"Maybe not so gently," Bucky mumbled.

"JAMES—"

Bucky sprang into action and dashed around the isle. "Okay, okay, okay!" He took her away from the messy sight. "Why don't we go out and buy a new one, hm? Any one you want, I swear."

"That was my favorite…" Chloe pouted.

"I know, I know," he nodded, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Do you want to go to the store right now? We can make a day out of it, I'll make this morning up to you, I swear."

"Yeah, alright," Chloe shrugged. At this point, nothing else could go wrong.

Bucky sent her back to the room to get changed so they could leave. He promised her that by the time she returned, the mess would be gone.

There is literally nothing else that could go wrong now, Barnes, he thought to himself. He seemed to be screwing things up spectacularly today and it wasn't even 10am yet.

He started hearing the chattering of the others as they neared the kitchen. He groaned internally. He was not ready to deal with the cavalry yet. If they found out he managed to break Chloe's coffee maker, they would never let him live it down.

No way I'm adding that to my day, he thought.

Walker was the first one in and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the coffee maker. "Woah, what the hell happened?"

Yelena came in next and said the same thing. "Somebody's in trouble…" she smirked, already assuming it was Bucky.

Ava, Alexei and Bob trailed in behind and each one made comical 'yikes' expressions. Everyone knew that Chloe without coffee was already bad, but a Chloe without her coffee maker might as well be an Avengers-level threat.

"So…who broke it?" Bucky's words stopped everyone's murmurs and earned him identical stunned faces.

"What?" Yelena said, losing her confidence in the moment. "It wasn't…it wasn't you?"

"Do I look dumb enough to break my girlfriend's coffee maker?" Bucky retorted, flat-faced.

It made Yelena second-guess herself, and the others as well.

"So, who the hell broke it?"

There was a heavy tension in the air, no one during to admit to the fault.

"I did," said Bob suddenly, "I broke—"

"No, no you didn't," Bucky cut him off. He was holding himself so straight that nobody could even think he was playing them all. "Walker?"

"What?" frowned the man. "Don't look at me. Look at Yelena."

"What?" Yelena said in return. "I didn't break it!"

"Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?"

Yelena blinked incredulously at Walker. "Uuh, because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken. Suspicious!"

"If it matters - probably not - but Ava was the last one to use it," Alexei mumbled to Bucky not so much in a 'mumble'.

Ava reacted fast at the accusation. "Liar! I don't even drink that crap!"

"Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the coffee maker earlier?"

"Ok, ok! Let's not fight!" Bob tried speaking over everyone's shouts. "I broke it, let me pay for it, Bucky!"

"No, Bob, we can't do that," Bucky said, half smiling. It was getting harder not to start laughing. "So who broke it? Chloe's going to be here any minute now and she's going to want some answers."

"Bucky, Ava's been awfully quiet…" Alexei said yet again and made Ava snap.

"Oh, really!?" She turned and started to argue with him, which then prompted the rest to start bickering with each other.

And that's how found them when she walked into the kitchen. Bucky was watching the chaos with a massive smirk on his face, clearly very proud of himself.

"Woah, woah, woah, what the hell is going on!?" she shouted over all of them.

"We're trying to figure out who the hell broke your damn coffee maker," Walker said, then immediately reiterated his innocence in the matter.

"Who broke my coffee maker?" Chloe said, confused, then glanced at Bucky. "We don't know who broke it?"

"Nope," he replied, then looked away to cover up his laugh.

I'm gonna kill this guy, she thought and swallowed her own laughter.

"I said it was me," Bob cut in unknowingly, "I broke it, so just let me try and get a new one. There's no need to fight."

"No, Bob, it wasn't you," Chloe said softly, "But maybe you and I can go shopping for another one. You're the only with sensible taste in this whole building."

And suddenly Bucky was done having his own fun. "What?" he looked at Chloe. "I thought you and I—"

"We can train later, sweetheart," Chloe said, like that had been their whole plan for the day. "Bob and I have some shopping to do. I'll see you later, okay? Bob?"

Bob looked around the group and their annoyed faces. Shopping was definitely the easier way to go. "Yup!" He dashed after Chloe who had already taken the lead out.

"And clean that mess up!" she shouted at the rest.

Unbelievable, Bucky shook his head.

He looked at the remaining members after a moment. "You heard her. Clean this mess up." He then too left the kitchen, ignoring the bickering that continued without him.

~0~

It was later at night when Bucky saw Chloe again and it was only because neither she nor Bob could figure out how to set up the new coffee maker. It was like watching children playing with tools.

"You found a new one," he mused at the larger coffee maker now taking space up on the counter.

"Well I had to considering somebody broke my last one," Chloe remarked.

"I still say it's me," Bob said, very much sounding honest.

"No, Bob, it wasn't you," Chloe said, crossing her arms. "It was my dumbass boyfriend."

"What?" Bob's eyes widened and immediately flickered to Bucky. "You broke it?"

A smirk spread across Bucky's face. "You gonna tell, Bob?"

"Uh, no," Bob shook his head instantly. "N-no, I would — I would never! But then…why did you make it seem like someone else did it? Ava almost beat up Alexei."

"I was bored," answered Bucky, "and annoyed."

"Evil," Chloe rolled her eyes playfully. "We could have had a dead team on our hands all because you wanted to have some fun."

"And I had a lot of fun," Bucky was happy to report. "Bob, why don't you head out and I'll take over here?"

Bob agreed only because he didn't want to get blamed for something too. When he was gone, Chloe took the opportunity to 'reprimand' Bucky for being so childish.

"You gotta admit it was funny, though," Bucky said after the whole lecture. And as much as Chloe wanted to remain serious, the image of the whole team arguing with each other was too funny to pass on.

"You can't do that again…" she warned him through giggles.

"Not with the coffee maker, of course," Bucky said, "It's brand new now." Chloe whacked his arm. "We could do it with something else! It's funny, Chlo."

Chloe leaned up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "You're supposed to be mature here. You are the oldest."

"And therefore with the authority to continue," Bucky shrugged.

"Get to work, Bucky!" Chloe tossed him the coffee maker's manual. "I want coffee tomorrow morning!"

~ 0 ~

Author's Note:

I saw this idea on tiktok and died laughing just thinking about it so here we are :)

As always, I have Fanfic/Wattpad accounts under "noblecrescent" and a tumblr account under "saiilorstars" if you'd like to follow :)

[snowonebutyou]

it’s in the air we’re breathing (can you taste the freedom?)

summary: natasha isn’t anywhere Wanda can find her, and it hurts.

notes: slowly but surely we are making our way through this story, folks. i hope y’all are still around for the ride.

title’s from the cure’s friday i’m in love

Chapter 9: it’s a wonderful surprise to see your shoes and your spirits rise

words: 2,588

rating: teen and up audiences

Wanda’s pacing.

She knows this — she’s aware she’s just going around in circles, turning sharp corners from one side to the other, while Steve, Pietro, and Clint stare at her in various degrees of befuddlement.

She knows she needs to give them some sort of explanation, but she doesn’t know where to start. How can she explain everything she’s feeling when she doesn’t understand half of it herself?

She just wants to scream.

READ MORE ON AO3 //  ko-fi

[slutisnotabadword]

I hope someone will see this like immediately. Does ANYONE have any StevexBucky fics? I never read any before, but now I’m like fuck it why not. I specifically don’t want AUs, or any pre-serum fics. However, I REALLY want the fics that are like set in Civil War or post Winter Soldier. Like I want the whole dramatic feeling realizations and Steve realizing he might have to choose the Avengers over Bucky and it’s ANGSTY PLSKDKD

[vendettaparker]

i want to start writing again :(

[reigningqueenofwords]

Out of Nowhere

Part 1 of Petty Insults

You were lounging in the living room when the voices of Thor and Tony got loud. Raising an eyebrow, you could only hear bits, which was enough. You shook your head and turned up the movie you were watching, not interested in what the two were arguing about.

Thor had his arms crossed, looking at Tony. “I tell you, it is I.” He said smoothly.

“Yeah, right.” Tony rolled his eyes. “You wear a cape!” He tried to make that sound like some horrible fashion choice. “Shall I quote myself from way back? ‘Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?’” He smirked, earning an annoyed look from the God.

“And you, my friend, are but an overgrown child.” He shot back. “With all your toys that light up.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Are you serious? Coming from the man who had to have most things explained to him for his first 6 months here?” He leaned back against the counter. “You, technically, aren’t even human!”

Thor raised his eyebrows at that. “And neither are you. You are part machine, are you not?” At least that made Tony less human than the others.

“Really? You’re going for the low blows, Maybeline?” He gave him a look. “I doubt she’d want to date a man who would use more hair products than she does!” Tony looked smug at that.

“And I doubt that she would want to be involved in what was it… Ah, a ‘ladies’ man.” Thor grinned, chuckling. “Tell me, who is the last woman that we have seen around here more than once? Aside from Miss Potts.”

Tony shot him a look before turning on his heels and making his way towards the living room. Thor was not far behind, curious to see what his friend was about to do. Both men entered to your right, making you look over. You went to ask what was going on with all the arguing, but Tony pulled you to him. His lips met yours, making your eyes go wide for a moment before you kissed him back, smiling.

He pulled away and smirked at Thor, who looked unhappy. “Really?” Thor asked, staring at Tony. “Was that needed?” He looked to you. “I say I deserve one, as well.”

You looked between the two men, completely lost as to what was going on. But, hell, if two of the hottest guys you knew wanted to kiss you, who were you to argue? “Sure.” You smiled at him with a small shrug.

Thor looked like he’d won the lottery as he cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply. Tony rolled his eyes at the sight, over this whole debate already. Your cheeks were a bright pink when he pulled away.

Swallowing, you licked your lips. “Not that I’m complaining about this…at all…can I ask what that was all about?” You chuckled lightly.

“Our resident God here thinks it’s him you’d be interested in. I was trying to prove that it was me.” Tony told you simply.

“And I was trying to prove it’s me, and not the bionic playboy.” Thor shot Tony a look.

When you lost it, they both looked at you, eyes wide. Neither had any idea what made you laugh like that. “That’s what you’ve been arguing about? All morning?!” You asked, earning a nod. “You’re both great guys, seriously. I wouldn’t be able to choose.” You felt your face heat up further.

Tony nodded before he shrugged. “So, don’t.” You and Thor both looked at him, surprised he was the one to say that. “How often am I off on some business thing if I’m not with the Avengers?” He asked. “And you’re needed is Asgard at times, are you not?” Tony pointed out. “Wing it.”

“Basically, you want me to date you when Thor’s away, and him when you’re away? What the hell do I do when you’re both here?” Instantly you watched them both get a glint in their eyes, making you bite your lip. “OOOOOH.” You said softly, getting the jist.

Thor smiled gently at you. “We would not do anything you are not comfortable with.” He assured you.

You thought it over for a minute before grinning. “Let’s do it.”

“Do what?” Clint walked in, eating a bag of chips, looking between the three of you.

“Her.” Tony and Thor said at the same time, making Clint stop chewing for a moment.

Once he’d swallowed, Clint nodded slightly. “Right. I’m gonna go find Nat…” He turned, trying to figure out what the hell he’d just walked in on.