#tazzy nix

[ohmi-neotheater]

duality!

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 23

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Past physical violence (from childhood), homophobia, just... heavy. 

A/N: Uh... yeah... So some of you may remember me saying that I’m basically at the mercy of my characters. I’m just here to do the heavy lifting (or typing as it were). Well... this is one of those instances when that rings VERY true. Even when I thought this was going to be a smutty one shot I knew this bit of the backstory about the Reader OC. Let me tell ya... I was real mad about it. Tried to think of a way to not have it be a thing, maybe avoid telling it, and on and on. In the end though this experience shaped this character into who she is and it’s not really something I feel one would be able to avoid given the (literal) mark it left behind. 

All that being said the really traumatic bits are italicized. You can skip them if you want and still sort of get the gist of what happened. 

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @soulless-and-sarcastic @saundrasays @breezy1415  @creepshowzombae  @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness  @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967

“Are you ok, Bucky?” In response, he lifts his head and kisses you turning you so the water runs down your back warming you.

When his eyes meet yours there’s no darkness there. “I’m great,” he smiles softly and rests his forehead against your own for a minute. You both just stay in this cocoon of steam holding one another, your toes just barely touching the tub.

The water starts to cool a bit so you turn the stream off. Once out of the tub he grabs the towel from the hook and runs it over your damp face. He pecks the tip of your nose and begins to gently dry you. Your breath shudders as he places a kiss on every newly dry region of your body. At your back your eyes squeeze shut, the towel gently running over the latticework of scars, the feeling of his lips pressed between your shoulder blades simultaneously wonderful and horrible.

As he kneels drying your calves you snag the second towel and you playfully dry his hair. He peeks up from under the towel, grinning and you can’t stop the huge smile from covering your own face.

Pulling the towel from you he makes quick work of drying his own body. You openly gawk, entranced by the movements of the muscles under his skin and the fluidity of his actions for someone so bulky.

When he’s just about done he catches you watching, tosses the towel away and scoops you off the floor in one sweeping motion. You giggle loudly, unable to remember if anyone had ever actually swept you off your feet before.

As he lays you on the bed you switch all the lights off save the lamp by the couch. He lays on his side next to you resting on his left forearm. The blanket slides its way up the both of you. There’s a part of you that desperately wants more of him but you know that neither of you is ready for that, not right now.

For a while you mirror one another hands clasped just looking into the other’s eyes. Studying, memorizing, holding on to this.

“I’m glad you found me, Bucky,” you whisper. His eyes are glassy and maybe a little sad, as though he’s not sure you should be glad. You press your body next to his and he envelops you.

Neither of you really sleep. While the relief of earlier was excellent it opened wounds for you and sleep, you knew, would allow memories you didn’t want to creep out. You suspected it was the same for him. Instead, you both doze. Hands wandering lazily over the one another’s bodies, not sexually just enjoying being touched in tenderness and not pain.

Dawn begins to light the windows and you flick the lamp off, the muted light of early morning giving the room a dreamy feel. Bucky’s head is resting on the left side of your chest, his breathing steady as you softly run your nails up and down his back. His metal index finger runs down the thick rope-like scar that stretches from your back around to your collarbone.

“Bastards,” he whispers, almost inaudible.

“You’re not wrong but your rage is a little misdirected there.” He sits up a little looking at you and you give him a wan smile. His eyes shift from the scar to your eyes and back again. This was always the part you dreaded about intimacy. Questions would, inevitably, arise quickly with your lovers and it never took long. You couldn’t blame them, the scars were brutal even before your stint with Hydra. When curiosity and concern mix, they’re hard to ignore.  

“How…?”

You sigh, “Short version… mom’s pastor boyfriend whipped me to drive the devil from me.”

His eyes spark with something vicious, “Long version?”

“I’ll tell you if you want to know. It’s a fucking ugly story though.” With him it’s the first time you want to tell it, you know he won’t run away or stop you half way. He just nods, his brows knit in concern.

You take a deep breath, sit up leaning against the wall, and dive in, “So… my mom grew up very religious and when things were floating around her baby’s crib she fully thought I was possessed.” He snorts a little and you shake your head, “I’ve had damn near every kind of exorcism performed on me. She always said I was her penance for her sins.” Your eyes roll, “Whatever. Anyway, after she broke up with the guy in the town with the movie theatre we landed in this microscopic town in backwoods Louisiana. Of course, we got involved with the church and she got involved with the pastor.

“About a month after we moved in with him she and I got in a fight and things began to float and fling around, I didn’t have a ton of control over it then. He saw and of course, I’m immediately deemed ‘possessed.’ I had just turned 13 a few months before and I literally didn’t see the outside world until I was 14.”

“What the fuck?” Bucky’s voice is a rumble.

“Can’t let the demon child out now can we?” You try to joke, always trying to make it seem lighter than it was. “But yeah, it was a fucking nightmare.” You trace the scars on your wrists, “That’s when I did this. Then they decided maybe they could let me out for church.”

You take a shaky breath, “It was October, the church was throwing a ‘Fall Festival’ because of course, Halloween is from the devil,” Bucky’s eyes roll and you laugh, “I know. And this girl… Beth,” your voice cracks a bit, “she was my age, the first and only friend I had there. She was dressed like an angel and she looked so gorgeous to me with her strawberry hair and green eyes.” You shake your head, “I was dressed like a fucking farmer.” He laughs a bit. “She asked if I wanted to walk around together and of course I did.

“We ended up sneaking into the chapel, sitting in the baptismal with our candy just laughing and talking. She told me she liked my hair,” your hand absently runs over the fuzz you’re sporting now, “I told her I liked hers, and her eyes and her lips. And…” you touch your own lips at the memory, “She kissed me.”

You let your head fall back against the wall with a thud. “I was walking on air when I got home…  Someone saw Beth and I though… of course they told the fucking pastor. He bursts into my room in the middle of the night, literally drags me out of my bed, down the stairs, and out back to the barn.” Your eyes are closed fists clenched. “Mom’s screaming to know what’s happened, he says I let my evil taint an innocent young girl that I was toxic and vile and an abomination… I went wild, kicking and biting and screaming trying everything I could to get away from him. It was like that only convinced him I had the devil in me.” You pause, gathering yourself to finish.

“He hit me so hard I lost consciousness. When I came to my shirt was gone and I was hanging from my wrists. Mom was crying and he kept saying I was their responsibility, the lord was testing them… He actually had the gall to say that he was doing this because he loved me, it was gods love, he couldn’t spare the rod and lose my soul.” You touch the scar, “It wasn’t a rod though. It was a fucking whip.” You can still remember how it felt. Bucky seems to be holding his breath.

“Thirty-nine lashes.” He breathes out and you look at him, his face a mask of rage and horror. “They left me there, hanging bloody and sobbing. Before dawn, I got myself down, snuck into the house, stole all the money I could find, some sheets and a few shirts and a jacket from the laundry. Ran. I wrapped myself in strips of the sheets, layered on like 3 shirts and a jacket just hoping I wouldn’t bleed through it all. Got on a bus and went to New Orleans.” Your eyes sting with tears.

“Nix found me a few days later bloody and half dead, brought me back to life. I became a different person. Never saw my mom or that bastard again. But… Hydra… got them.” Bucky snorts as if to agree, for once, with their actions.

You’re not done though. “After Hydra found me again in Brooklyn after you got me out. I wouldn’t comply with anything. I had no reason to. Everyone I loved was gone and I thought they’d just kill me if I didn’t obey.”

“If only,” he whispers and you grab his hand, holding tight.

“Yeah, I figured that out fast enough. It didn’t take a genius to ascertain those scars were from something traumatic so they used it. Didn’t comply, whipped, beaten, raped. Still refuse, chair. Back and fo-“

“Chair?” His eyes are saucers. Terror is etched all over his face.

“… yeah…”

[kkbendy]

Name all your ships

Bendy x hailey @ihaileysenpaiMugman x tazzie @asktazzieandfriendsrebootKye x shayla @kai-aniron ice x shayla @iron-ice-the-last-elementalAmaris x Iron Ice @mizlazynothingNix x Iko @phoenixmeekaCuphead x Bekkah @wolfieskies25Bri x Toby @cutie--bri (There's more but im too lazy)

[ohmi-neotheater]

tazzy nix.

a questionable spectacle of feral...ness. surely something happened that made her disc and suit break and malfunction, right? supposedly she got in a fight and phoenix's short temper caused it, but she just can't remember what led to it...

who knows.

[ohmi-neotheater]

and that was my prayer

save me from this terrible nightmare.

[ohmi-neotheater]

nobody asked but heres tazzy nix again

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 24

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Past physical violence(ish), FEELS.

A/N: You didn’t think a happy chapter was going to follow up the doozy of 23 did you? Because... yeaaaah that’s not what’s happening. Though, I have to say I really loved writing this chapter for reasons I’m not even 100% sure of. Maybe because the back and forth attempts at support are something I’m all too familiar with? Maybe I just really like circling back to things I implied earlier in he story? Both? Who knows. 

Also, if you’re tagged (and still want to be) can you just sound off? It’s showing me that your tags are working but then it seems folks aren’t getting notified and I want to be sure you’re getting the heads up. 

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky  @soulless-and-sarcastic @saundrasays @breezy1415 @creepshowzombae  @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness  @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius  @auskitty @babyimp1967 

The chair was something you tried not to think of. Of everything they put you through that one was the easiest to push from your mind. Everything after a round in that was fuzzy, like looking at the world through a foggy window while being underwater.

The taste of the rubber, the pain, that you remembered clearly enough. Some sort of electroshock you assumed. You suspected it was in those times that you had learned things. Languages, programming, combat, espionage. Because you had no solid recollection of actually being taught these skills they were just… there. Plus, besides using it for punishment (usually a last resort) there seemed to be a schedule, a method to it, at the beginning of your time with Hydra that tapered off after a time.

“Bucky?” He seems so far away. The look of terror is still there but his gaze shifts from your face to your arm. He pulls it straight and runs a finger over the track marks tucked inside your elbow. Instinctively you try and pull back, your heart begins to pick up speed, he holds you examining them. You curl your other arm protectively against your chest. He releases you and you curl into yourself.

“Please?” He reaches for your other arm and you reluctantly comply. More track marks. So many needles, and tests, and monitors. Days, maybe weeks, spent physically ill body burning and freezing and aching. He chews on his bottom lip before releasing you and bolting off the bed. “Come here,” He walks toward the kitchen and stands by the counter. You don’t move and he waves you over.

“You’re scaring me.”

For a split second, he looks bereft before his brows set at a determined angle, “I’m sorry but really,” again he gestures. Tentatively you rise up, the familiar feeling of dread curling in your stomach.

“Stand here,” he points to the living room side of the counter and takes the opposite kitchen side. Leaning down he rests his right elbow on the counter hand up. “Come on.”

“You want me to… arm wrestle you?” To say you were confused would be an understatement.

“Yup,” a crooked smile rises. “Humor me.”

“I feel like you have an unfair advantage here.”

He snorts, “That’s what I wanna find out. Don’t use your power, just your strength.” You squint at him for a second before getting into position and clasping his hand. “Give me all you got.”

You’re certain he’s hardly trying, but once you actually apply yourself he begins to move. His eyes lock onto yours. You feel him advance on you and you exert more force, the counter creaking under your elbows, you manage to push him back. It hits you that he is trying… You’re distracted by this realization and he begins to regain ground. Before you know it your hand slams painfully into the counter. 

“Told you, unfair advantage,” you say in a light tone, rubbing the back of your hand. Any other humor leaves you when you look back to him. His right arm is across his chest, left covering his mouth, staring at you.  

“No… you should have lasted a fraction of that.” His tone is so somber. The dread in your stomach growing. You just stare at him, feeling frozen.  

You didn’t notice him next to you but you're in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for everything.” His hand gently rubs your back and you shudder against him, arms still curled against your chest. Suddenly you pull away staring down at your hands. You knew… had known they had done something to you but you didn’t want to face it…

“What did they do to me?” You say, barely a whisper body trembling, chills racing over your skin.

“They were making a weapon.” His hands slide over your own, holding them tight. “I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice sounding like it’s about to shatter.

“You didn’t do this,” your voice is shaky.

He shakes his head and paces away, hands running through his hair. The muscles in his back ripple with tension. “I did though…” Your heart stops, you’re certain it literally stops beating because everything around you goes unnaturally quiet until he says, “After they… made me… made him… After it worked… they always wanted more…” Air rushes back into your lungs and you feel the reassuring thundering of your heart.

“Look at me,” your voice is stronger than you feel as you approach him. He turns slowly, lifts his eyes reluctantly to your own. “You did not do this. This, none of this was your choice.”

“Still…” his fingers gently run up your arm to the marks left by countless needles. “If I hadn’t…”

“What?” taking his hands in your own. “If you hadn’t what, Buck?” Something flashes across his face at this shortened version of his name before vanishing. “If you hadn’t survived? If you hadn’t been strong enough?” He looks away and you cup the left side of his face, forcing him to look at you. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“It’s just… You didn’t deserve this…”

“And you did?!”

“I… I don’t know.” The mix of rage, confusion, and pain on his face feels like a knife being twisted in your chest. “I was a soldier, Y/N,” he gestures to his chest with his left hand. “Even before… I did things I wasn’t… but you… you were-“

“I was a thief, a con woman, a liar, a fraud-”

“And… after…” his eyes wander to that scar and your blood boils for a different reason.

“Do not pity me, Barnes,” his brows raise a bit. “Ever,” you pull your hands back and step away. It was something you couldn’t bear, even before Hydra. How many relationships had ended because they only saw you as a victim, someone to be handled with kid gloves lest you break.

“I don’t. I wouldn’t,” his tone is measured. “I only meant you deserve something good, not more… pain.”

Tears burn your eyes but you won’t allow them to fall, “I had something good, for just a little while…” And it’s true. The little family you carved out with Nix was incredible. You approach him and grasp his hands tight, “And I think this may be something good too.”

His hands squeeze yours but when he looks at you there’s no light in his eyes, “I wish I could tell you, you’re right.” He lifts his left hand and traces the scar on your right cheek, “The truth is I don’t know how much good is left in me…” Your eyes narrow and he tries to pull away. Your grip tightens, and for extra measure, you wind your power around your clasped hands.

“You have been nothing but good to me… For no reason.” He won’t look at you but you won’t let him go, can’t let him go. “You’re a good man James Barnes,” now his eyes shoot to you, filled with some emotion you can’t name, “with a good heart…” A wan smile flickers across his lips.

Slowly he leans down to kiss you. At first soft, so gentle it’s barely there. You wind your right hand into his hair, pulling his lips hard against your own, your kiss hungry. Every fiber of your being burns with desire, not only for him but to make him see himself the way you did. You were never convinced of your own inherent goodness. Even before Hydra, you had always viewed yourself as someone with a less than stellar moral compass… But some part of you knew that before the war, before being unmade, Bucky was a good man.

Suddenly you want him. All of him. You want to forget talk of trauma and torture, of good and bad. All you want is to feel him. Your body grinds against him, you nip at his lip, and feel him stir against you. Your hands wander to his hip bones and begin tracing a path southward.

He gently lays his hands over yours and pulls back shaking his head slightly. “No,” his eyes are cloudy, voice a soft rasp. Your hands stop their journey and you look up at him as he straightens.

Cupping your face in his large hands he just looks at you for a moment, the space between his brows creased. His thumbs softly stroke your cheeks, his voice is thick with emotion, “Could… Can I just hold you for a while… would that be ok?” You can only smile gently and nod, unable to trust your voice to hold steady for a simple, ‘yes.’

Without another word he scoops you up, his grip pressing you tight against his chest. A seemingly unnecessary gesture considering you’re steps from the bed but there’s a sweetness to it.

Tenderness had never been your way. Even how you loved had been hard-edged, more of an escape than anything else. This was something different. Because while seconds before you were ready to fuck him senseless, to use him to blot out the darker thoughts in the same way you had used others, as he settles down on the bed, his back against the wall, holding you like he had that first night, you were never so happy to have heard the word, ‘no.’

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 14

Master List | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Improper chest binging, and that’s about it.

A/N: Chapter tonight AND Saturday night. After this particular moment let’s just say things start to move in a whole new (though let’s be real expected) direction for these two. I’m really excited for what’s to come and hope y’all are loving them as much as I am. 

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby@disagreetoagree@woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @soulless-and-sarcastic  @saundrasays @breezy1415

Your chest is screaming but your stomach is much louder. Shopping bags abandoned at the front door you both ditch your jackets and sit down to tear into your shaorma. It’s like the best gyro and kebab you’ve ever had made a baby and then someone put french fries on it. So good, so needed. So much chest pain.

You drop your food to the table and take a few breaths, massaging the space between your breasts. Bucky looks up at you, “It is generally good to take breaths between bites,” he teases. You give him a small smile.

“Thanks for the tip…” you wheeze a bit. “One sec.” You have to get these bandages off now.

You had them on too long today and yesterday for sure, honestly you’ve been wearing them too much altogether. Add to that today’s long walk, near full blown anxiety attack, and yesterday’s breakdown… well, your body is over it, to say the least.

Once in the bathroom, you unbutton your loaner shirt to your waist and reach inside undoing the bandage’s anchors. Immediately you feel the pressure lessen. Pulling it away from your chest you notice a few small thin bruises, Too tight and too long. Stupid. You knew the risks of using bandages to bind your chest. But given the circumstances, you couldn’t exactly just pop online and buy a proper binder and sports bras weren’t enough to be convincing.

You force yourself to cough, something you’d watched Nix do for years, and you have to admit it hurts more than usual. Even without the restriction, you can’t quite get enough air in your lungs. Instead, you settle for short breaths, a distinctive rasp that wasn’t there this morning rattles out each time. Great. You cough a few more times but it does nothing to relieve the heavy feeling in your chest. Accepting there’s nothing you can do about it now you button up a bit and gather the bandages.

He watches you toss your bindings in your bag before you sit down. “That didn’t sound good,” popping the last bite of his shaorma in his mouth.

You take a few smile bites, appetite busted by the pain in your chest. Shrugging, “It’s just one of the many glamorous side effects of binding your chest with bandages.” His eyes narrow, “You’ve just got to be careful to not wear them for too long, the constant pressure on your chest isn’t excellent for you and Ace bandages restrict more over time. But it’s what I’ve got so I make it work.” You lean back in the dining chair, massaging your chest. Bucky looks at you with worried eyes as he gathers his trash.

“Are you,” he gestures to your half eaten meal.

“No, I think I’m good. But I ca-“ He’s already wrapping it up.

“I’ll put it in the icebox.”

You laugh, “Icebox. You are a relic, Barnes,” you wink as he turns back earning you a goodhearted eye-roll. A pain shoots through your chest and a deep cough leaves you gasping.

He’s by your side in a second, left hand on the back of the chair the other on your knee. “I’m fine, really, it will clear up.” You rub your chest again, trying to relieve some of the tension. His mouth presses into a fine line and another intense cough tears through you and you struggle to catch your breath.

“No. You aren’t fine.” You look into his eyes, a blend of stern reproach and worry there, “It sounds like you’ve got fluid in your lungs, and that is not fine.”

“It happens sometimes,” you shrug, “improper binding can cause it, I will be-”

“Stop.” You glare at him but don’t finish repeating yourself. “Fluid sitting on your lungs can lead to pneumonia, it can get bad quick, overnight…”

“Thanks… I guess,” you remembered taking Nix to the ER for that very thing in another life.

“You’ve got to move it-“ you unintentionally cut him off with a cough and another… and you just can’t get it to stop. He begins rubbing your back with his metal hand, the cool pressure feels soothing through the fabric of the shirt. “It’s ok, you’re ok…” You can’t get enough air in and you shake your head disagreeing with his idea that you’re ‘ok.’ “It will be. Don’t panic, that's going to make it worse, it will pass.” Finally, the coughing gives way to wheezing breaths.

“Ok,” his hand is still rubbing your back, “I know it hurts but take as deep of a breath as you can.” Your eyes search his and he just smiles. “Come on, deep,” and he breaths in time with you, “hold it for a second, let it out.” You do and a gentle cough escapes, much less painful. “Good,” he hands you a napkin left from your dinner, “Do that again but before you fully exhale make yourself cough.” You do and it’s not cute but damn does the release feel amazing, and you’re thankful for the napkin.

You think you’re ok but another fit hits. “Fuck,” you eek out between breaths. He scoots your chair out so he can fully face you.

“Does one side hurt more than the other?” You nod gesturing to your right. He takes a deep breath and you envy his oxygen. “I think I can help you but you would have to be ok with me touching you…” For a second your heart ticks up, “I can help loosen the fluid, but I don’t want to do anything you don’t wan-“

Another cough tears into your chest and you wheeze out, “Yes, it’s fine, whatever is fine.” Before you know it you’re out of the chair and he’s laying you on the bed your right side up.

He lifts your right arm over your head and starts a firm but steady beat with cupped hands just above the bottom of your ribs, “Now breathe like you did at the table, deep breath, hold it, release, deep breath, let almost all of it go, cough.”

You do and after almost five minutes you begin to feel relief. He helps you upright. “Does it hurt or feel heavy anywhere else?” Too intent on breathing you just hold your hand to your upper chest. “Ok…” He looks nervous. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. He sits behind you cross-legged and lays your head in his lap.

He looks down at you, “Are you sure?” You nod but the moment his hands touch the skin of your chest your heart starts racing. He lays his palms flat on your chest and you swear a shiver runs through his whole body. He’s careful, so careful, not to push the shirt too far, not to venture too close to your breasts. There’s no rhythmic beat this time, instead, he begins vibrating his palms. “Breathe,” he says softly eyes locked on yours. And you do.

You only cough a little but the motion convinces the muscles in your chest to relax and you’re left with only a dull soreness to remind you. You close your eyes and breathe normally for a few breaths. The feeling of his hands on your chest, of being close, of connection, overcomes you for a moment.

Slowly you will your eyes to open and you almost lose your hard-won breath. His eyes look at you tenderly, his smile soft, face relaxed. “Thank you,” you whisper. He gives a small nod and goes to move his hands. You suddenly feel panic and pull them back to you before his fingers have even risen.

His face is unsure, “Please, I…” you lay your hands over his, this time you know you feel him shiver. “If it’s ok could we just sit for a second… I…”

“I’d like that.”

But for real please don’t bind with bandages if you can at all avoid it. I have literally taken my friends to the ER for pneumonia and other complications related to it more times than I care to count. If you need to bind and don’t have access to a binder please reach out to me. My resources aren’t unlimited but I can try to help you get something that will work better. Or if you would like more information on proper binding I can also help there. Stay safe my pumpkins! Love ya! 

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 8

Master List | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: References to past violence... pretty much it. 

A/N: If you’re continuing down this rabbit hole with me. Thank you! I can’t help but laugh that my initial idea for this was a one-off and now I’m just so invested in these two and their journey together I don’t ever want it to end (and we all know that one way or another it will end). This is probably so in-depth because I don’t feel like we get near enough time seeing Bucky be a human and it’s tragic because he’s a character that’s filled with so much potential (for love as well as violence). It’s way too much fun to explore him through the eyes of another character. 

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky

Enough time passes that it’s full dark when your sobs slow to nothing more than hitching breaths. Your eyes have adjusted and the streetlight out front is on sending dingy light shooting through the boards on the window. You lift your head a bit and try to wipe at your snotty nose realizing you’ve soaked this man’s shirt with more than just tears.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry.”

The muted light barely illuminates his face but it’s just enough to make out his soft smile. “Trust me, I’ve had worse on my shirt.” You concede that point with a nod and sit up. You’d been perched on his thighs, legs out to his right. He can’t be comfortable. Even with being pretty malnourished these past few months you still weren’t what anyone would call slight. You take a shaky breath and notice that his metal hand is still on your upper back. You lean into it for just a second, appreciating the immovable feeling before going to move.

“You sure?” He says sensing you shift.

“Yeah. Plus, you’ve got to be uncomfortable.” His right-hand rests on your knee.

He shrugs, “I’m good, you don’t have to go… unless you want to.” You meet his eyes and get the feeling he doesn’t want you to go. It is nice, to feel another person there.

“Thank you,” you lay your hand on his and you swear you can feel a small shiver run through him. Even though it feels so nice you shift off his lap to the floor next to him. His hand lays flat between you and you butt your pinky next to his, not quite wanting to let go of that physical connection.

You rub your burning chest, grimacing. Been in this for too long, you think and the crying only made it worse.

He glances down where your bodies touch and lets out a small sigh. You think he’s going to ask more about what happened after he got you out instead he looks around the room, “How long have you been living here?”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly, “Live? I personally prefer the term, squatting.”

His left-hand raises to his chest in false anguish, “Oh, I’m truly sorry to offend.” He looks around once more, “But… do you even have running water…?”

“What do you think?”

“Gonna go with no. And no electricity either. Or any way to properly secure the entries.” These aren’t questions. Just observations. You shrug. “Just because you’re on the run from a diabolical group of well connected nazi assholes doesn’t mean you have to live in a hovel you know?”

“I don’t know actually,” you spit with much more venom than is deserved. His hand slides over yours in silent apology. “Sorry. Look. I’ve been homeless before and honestly, this isn’t so bad.”

“It’s just,” he clears his throat, “I have those things.” You don’t say anything. “And…” he runs his left hand through his hair nervously, “if you wanted… you could go there.” You only stare, not sure how to respond. He looks like he’s said something off-putting rather than remarkably kind, “But not if you feel uncomfortable or anything. I, uh, don’t even have to be there for a while if you want to just… I don’t know have something a little more… a little less…”

“Hovel-like,” you interject.

“Yeah… yeah.”

You look around at the dark room, your few clothes strewn about and the nightstand busted from your outburst earlier, the bed that was, likely, older than you were. “An actual shower would be amazing.” You’d been breaking into the gym of the nearby high school a few nights a week to bathe quickly, very quickly. He nods and stands. This time you don’t fling him against the wall. He holds his right hand out to you and you take it.

Bending down he gathers the books you scattered when your power lashed out and his knives. You notice he had already reclaimed his Glock from your waistband. “But you don’t have to leave your apartment.” His eyes meet yours silently questioning, “Seriously. I’d feel really fucking guilty. So… If you’ll stay I’ll gladly go with you.”

“Yeah,” he smiles that incredible smile again, “I’ll stay.”

It takes hardly ten minutes to gather your few belongings and you’re ready to leave this place behind you.

Bucky’s apartment isn’t too far away on the top floor of a Soviet-era apartment block. It’s small but feels… safe. And almost reminds you of that first place you and Nix had shared, a tight studio with the bare necessities. A mattress on the floor, ratty couch, windows covered in newspaper, but there’s a balcony. When you walk out you breathe deep, loving the feeling of being up so high.

“It isn’t much,” he says, looking around not meeting your eyes.

“It’s perfect,” and you mean it. This. In this moment. Is perfect.

“Oh and here’s the bathroom,” he opens the door to a small room. Unexpectedly there's a bathtub and you dream of bubble baths. He opens a closet to the right and points out the towels. 

For a moment you both stand awkwardly not knowing what to do. “Well,” he clears his throat, “I’m going to run to the market before they close.” You give him a questioning glance. “I will be back though.”

“Ok.” He nods and turns to leave. You have a question, it’s haunted you for years you’ve got to get it out now or you’re worried you’ll never do it. “Wait. Can I ask you something?”

He turns back, “Yeah... If I can ask you something?”

“Home field advantage, you go first.”

He takes his baseball cap off and runs a hand through his hair, something you’re realizing is a nervous habit. “If… if I helped you… uh…”

“Why did I hit you over the head with a brick and tie you to a wall today?”

His mouth cocks in that crooked smile, “Yeah.”

“That was maybe two years in so once they got me back I was in Hydra for five or so more years. I… heard things.” You pause, hating this. “And… He… He brought you back some time after, a few months maybe. Time… all that time is so fluid so I’m not certain. And while I was… restrained… he asked you if you knew me. You said no. He asked if you’d kill me. You looked me in the eyes and said yes. He… ordered you to choke me.” You hear the metal plates shift. “You did. He stopped you before I lost consciousness. Sent you away. Then told me not to be mistaken, what happened before was just a moment of dumb luck, a malfunction. That the Soldier wasn’t on my side.”

His jaw is tight and you notice a vein throb in his neck, “He wasn’t.” Taking a deep breath he asks, “What was your question?”

“Why’d you do it?” He stares not understanding. “Why’d you help me? Why risk it for someone you didn’t know?”

Suddenly he looks a million miles away. “You reminded me of someone I used to know, someone… someone important to me. He didn’t know when to quit when he was outgunned. Neither did you.” He smiles, not the show-stopping one, this smile is melancholy, almost mournful.

“Sounds like a good dude.”

“Mhm…” again his hand rakes back his hair and he dons his cap. “I gotta get there before they close.”

“Alright. Thank you…” He nods and you’re alone.

You don’t have anything to make a bubble bath so you stick with just a shower, water so hot it stings. Had a shower ever felt quite this good?

Leaning your head against the far wall you let the scolding water pound against your back, reveling in the lack of urgency. Massaging your breasts, so sore from being bound all day, happy that you can finally breathe unencumbered. Muscles you had forgotten were tense begin to release and a few racking wet coughs rip through your chest. Suddenly you’re exhausted. You shut the water off, quickly dry your cropped hair, and wrap the towel around you.

Annoyingly you realize all your shirts are filthy, you had intended to do laundry today. He let you in his house you don’t suspect he’ll mind that you steal a t-shirt. 

Slipping into a pair of clean boxer briefs, you go to the closet and pull out a black t-shirt. It’s soft and smells vaguely spicy as you slip it over your head. The fit isn’t exactly oversized on you but just big enough to be incredibly comfortable.

You sit cross-legged on the double mattress, even without a bed frame its worlds more comfortable than what you’d been sleeping on, to put your few toiletries and dirty clothes in your bag. Another wave of bone-deep exhaustion hits. You rest your head in your hands… Then there’s nothing.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 10

Master List | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Nothing really.

A/N: This isn’t relevant to the chapter but is anyone else feeling that Chris Evans tweet still? It’s like an end of an era and I’m just already gearing up for all the tears that are going to come. Enough of that. It’s been a fucking terrible week and I kind of just want to bury myself in my writing for a month (fic and otherwise). Hope y’all like this one =)

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby  @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @soulless-and-sarcastic

You plop on the couch pulling your bag to you groaning.

“What's wrong?” He sounds so concerned your heart aches for a second.

“Nothing,” you laugh a little, “I just never thought I’d still hate doing laundry even when I own like six pieces of clothing total.” He studies you a minute and goes to his small closet. He throws a dark blue button up at you and your power catches it midair. You peek around the floating garment and look at him quizzically.

“Get dressed,” a pair of jeans sail over the suspended shirt and you catch it normally.

You stand to snatch the shirt, “I own pants.”

“How many pairs?”

Shaking your head, “1.5.”

“Please explain how someone can have half a pair of pants?” In response, a pair of too big jeans cut off at the knee rise from your bag. He shakes his head, “What in the hell are those?”

“My laundry day pants.”

“A disgrace is what they are.” You really can’t argue. “We’re getting you some clothes.”

Your pride prickles at this, “I can get my own clothes,” and you send his clothing hurling at him. His metal hand catches them and he massages the bridge of his nose.

“But you don’t.” You stare incredulously. “You said you have six pieces of clothing, no five because I won’t count whatever those monsters you showed me were. You could get your own clothes but you don’t. You’re an exceptional thief,” your mouth opens to defend yourself, “that’s a compliment,” he fends you off, hands up. “And you have passible documents, obviously the know-how to get new ones if needed. Easy enough to get a place. Yet you chose to live in something no better than a cave.” He holds your cold stare for a second and sighs. “In the nine days I observed you, I think I saw you eat maybe, maybe, four or five times and even then not much. You could have been eating in that house but I didn’t see anything besides some bottled water there so I’m assuming you weren’t.” Your eyes are firmly planted on the ground.

“I did, see you drink no less than five huge coffees a day, black mostly I’m assuming. I did see you burn through what, a pack a day, at least? But you don’t seem to even be a habitual smoker because in the whole time I’ve been around you, you haven’t lit up once and you left the pack you had in your squat. I did see you drink-“

“Enough!” Who the fuck does he think he is?! Your ragged jeans, the full-length ones, land in your hand and you slip them on. “Thank you for reminding me that you were stalking me for over a week without me having a fucking clue, makes me feel super confident about my ability to keep myself alive.” You grab your bag and boots, “And thank you for the bed and breakfast experience but I can take care of myself.”

You’re about to turn the doorknob when you hear him say, “But you don’t.” You pause for just a moment, “You don’t because you think you don’t deserve it.” Now you’re frozen. “Anything that happened to you there wasn’t your fault and anything you may have done… you have to try and forgive yourself for.” You look over your shoulder at him, he’s looking right at you, metal arm still clutching the clothes hanging at his side. “If you need a point of reference, I promise you I’ve done far worse things, and I’m not sure what I even deserve… but the basics food, clothing, shelter, even I allow myself that.”

When you escaped Hydra six months ago you had just wanted to end it. What was the point of living anymore? All the people who mattered were dead, erased from everything. You had less than nothing. But you couldn’t do it.

After Nix found you at 15 you had told him you wanted to just die. He’d said, “Fuck that! The best way to get back at every asshole who’s hurt you is to keep living. Don’t give them the satisfaction of winning, they don’t deserve it.” You couldn’t let him down now so you decided to live, go on for them. But… you weren’t really living. You were just, alive. Suddenly you felt so ashamed. You owed it to them, to Nix, to yourself to do better than this.

Your tongue didn’t want to obey but you drop your boots by the door and strode over to him, yank the proffered clothing out of his hand without making eye contact, and slam the bathroom door closed.

Staring in the mirror you glare at yourself. Door slamming? Really? Are you a teenager?

You lift your breasts up, binding them tightly. Maybe too tight. But a twinge of pain is grounding and you leave it. The button up is blue-black, Brings out my circles beautifully. You’d never been more thankful for your broad shoulders than in these last few months. they made passing easier, as did the muscles you’d gained over years of training with Hydra. Concealing your wide hips and hourglass torso was easy with layers. The jeans were too long as was the shirt, ending just below your ass. You may have always been thick but tall, not so much. You lift the denim from its resting place just above your pubic bone and cinch them with a belt closer to your waist. tuck the front of the shirt in leaving the back out to further hide your curves. The sleeves you roll to your elbows before stealing yourself to face the aftermath of your own bullshit.

He’s sitting comfortably on the couch reading the book of Cummings’ poems when you come out. Looking at you over the book he gives you a small smile and you almost wince. Y/N. You’re a fucking asshole.

He left your boots by a dining table chair, even laid your jacket, which you’d almost stormed off without, over the chair for you. You crumple into it. “I… I’m…”

“You really don’t have-“

“I do though.” He’s slipped a piece of stray paper into the book and is looking at you with a gentle expression. “By and large you’ve been needlessly nice to me. And this… I’ve always been bad at accepting help and everything… I don’t know how to be a fucking person anymore on top of it.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m struggling with being a human again too… I get it.”

“Well, you’re certainly better at it than me.”

“Hardly.” He sets the book aside. You slip into the boots. “So, you good to go?” He’s walked over to you and reached out his right hand. You take it.

“Yeah.” He slips gloves over his hands and you wonder if he had them yesterday. and grabs his cap.

Clothes shopping with The Winter Soldier, you think, What the fuck is even my life?

[iguessimkarl]

I LOVE TAZZY NIX SMM OMG :DDD

tazzy nix.

a questionable spectacle of feral...ness. surely something happened that made her disc and suit break and malfunction, right? supposedly she got in a fight and phoenix's short temper caused it, but she just can't remember what led to it...

who knows.