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agirlwithdemonblood · 3 months

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Breaking Free: Chapter 1- Hearts & Tires

Pairings: AU! Mechanic Dean x Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N is navigating her new life, alone when she meets Dean, a mechanic who is too kind already.

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, threats, abusive ex fiance.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Dean Winchester had seen her around for months now. The shy, reserved woman who always walked alone to the coffee shop every morning. Every morning around the same time, there she was, smiling polietly yet nervously as she walked by.

He didn't know much about her, except that she was engaged to Andrew Wilson, a well known reporter in town, and sometimes he swore he could see bruises peeking out from beneath her makeup, but he never asked. He just nodded politely back when she greeted him.

He wasn't sure why he felt drawn to her. Maybe it was the vulnerability in her eyes, or the way she seemed to be the most beautiful girl he's ever laid his eyes on.

Either way, every morning when she walked by, that little smile of hers made his heart beat faster in his chest, and it was something he was excited to see.

But for the past week, she didn't appear at the coffee shop and Dean couldn't stop his concern when he realized there was no sign of her. He asked around discreetly, but no one seemed to know where she had gone.

I once saw a quote hanging on my therapist's wall "As long as you're still alive, you always have a chance to start again."

At the time, it seemed absurd. Why would anyone need to start over when they could just move on?

But now, here I am, needing that chance to start a new life. I barely escaped alive, and now I have the opportunity to make things better for myself. The problem is, I have no idea how to begin.

A few months ago, my life was completely different. I had everything-A fiance, a beautiful house, a life. It was supposed to be our fresh start together. But within days after our engagement, I discovered he was cheating on me.

Without thinking, I stayed, wanting my relationship to work so badly but it got worse and he showed his true colours.

Confronting him only made things worse. He denied everything, accessed me of lies and blamed me for his indiscretions. He turned the tables to make me seem like the one who was crazy and abusive.

I followed him to this new town because of his career, I gave up everything for him, and I endured his abuse because I believed i deserved no better.

A month ago, I knew I needed to leave. I stood up to him, telling him I deserved better, and he hit me-brutally, mercilessly. Not stopping until my blood was on his fists and I was laying there, broken and beaten down.

He told me he could continue, he could hurt me any time he wanted because nobody would ever believe me. He was a respected citizen and people knew him as so.

That's when I realized, I had to run. Because the moment he realized he could hurt me in such brutal ways and get away with it, that's when I knew if I didn't leave-he was going to kill me.

And nobody would do anything about it.

Now, I found myself homeless, with only a few bills and my car to my name. The money in my account, once shared, has been emptied by Andrew.

I was stranded, with no one to turn to except distant parents who have their own issues and blamed me for not making the relationship work. I was alone, and broken.

The next morning, I woke in a motel room, drained and uncertain of my future. The weight of my situation laid down on me like a heavy blanket I couldn't shake off.

A loud thump on the door made me jump as I cautiously opened it. My heart skipped a beat when I found myself face-to-face with Andrew, wearing a mocking smile. All I wanted to do was slam the door in his face, but fear stopped me.

"Y/N, I was surprised you didn't come home last night." he taunted.

"Why would I come home after what you did?" I shot back, crossing my arms to hide the panic within.

He laughed sarcastically. "You still think you hold the cards here. I didn't do anything to you that you didn't deserve. Nobody would ever believe you. Half our neighbors already think you're the toxic one. Your story isn't going to match up. You have nobody on your side."

Swallowing hard, I dropped my arms. "I don't care if nobody believes me. I know what happened, and I'm going to tell my truth."

He stepped closer, and I froze, regretting pushing him. "He pressed his forehead against mine, his gaze intense and threatening. "You do that. I'm thrilled to see what happens when you start opening your mouth."

I backed away, turning from him, afraid he might strike again. He chuckled and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. As the door slammed shut behind him, I finally felt a moment of relief, like i could breath again. I didn't care about exposing him or proving anything to the world. All that mattered was being safe from him and finding a way forward.

Stepping outside to grab some breakfast, I halted in shock. All four of my tires were slashed, a knife laying on the ground nearby.

"Fucking Andrew," I muttered, realizing he wasn't done tormenting me. He wanted to see me broken, crawling back to him with nothing. But I refused to let him hurt me anymore-physically or emotionally.

There was an auto shop not far away, and I figured that was my best shot at getting help with my car.

Walking towards the shop, I spotted a mechanic underneath a car, engrossed in his work. "Um, excuse me, sir?" I called out shyly.

Startled, he cursed softly and slid out from beneath the car. My breath caught as I met his gaze. It was him, the man I said hi to every morning. I couldn't deny that I always found him cute, but up close he was more like a model out of a magazine-bright green eyes, a face streaked with grease that somehow looked good on him.

His eyes focused on mine, recognition on his features as his breathing hitched slightly, before a flirty smile appeared. "Ma'am? What can I help you with?"

I blushed and dropped my head, which only made him chuckle softly, causing my cheeks to burn even hotter. Quickly collecting myself, I explained, "I need new tires, all four are empty and I'm looking for the cheapest option."

He frowned but chuckled underneath his breath, leaning against his car and wiping his hands, eying me with a hint of curiosity.

"Is it here?" he asked, gesturing toward my car.

I shook my head, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. "No, it's at the motel I'm staying at."

"Okay, can you bring it in? I can give you a better estimate once I see the car," he suggested.

"I was just going to buy the tires, and bring them back." I admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed at my idea.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. "No offense sweetheart, but how were you planning to bring four tires back to the motel? I'm not sure I could even manage that."

I sighed, realized he was right-it was a stupid plan.

"I can't afford a tow truck," I confessed quietly.

Understanding and pity crossed his face and he nodded sympathetically. "Well, if you want, I can get my truck and come with you-for free."

I blinked in surprise and stared back, unsure if i heard him correctly.

Grinning, he grabbed his keys and gestured for me to climb into the truck beside him. The ride was surprisingly comfortable, with occasional glances exchanged that sent my heart fluttering.

As we arrived back at the motel parking lot, I felt a strange sadness knowing our time together was ending. I barely knew him, yet I already missed him. It was crazy-I couldn't be developing feelings for someone new, especially fresh out of a toxic relationship.

He stepped out of the car and I quickly followed, standing a good distance away from him as he observed the mess from this morning. "Oh.. Wow." He muttered, eying the tires.

"What?"

He cleared his throat and looked back towards me, "Nothing it's just... when you said your tires were empty I thought you meant they popped not this... You don't seem like the type of person who would have somebody slash all four of your tires."

I smiled to myself shyly, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. "I must have pissed somebody off, I guess."

He chuckled lightly and leaned down to check the wheels, focusing on what type I would need. I leaned against the truck and snuck a glance at hi; god, he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.

He stood from his spot and nodded, "Luckily, we have the right type at the shop. I can bring it back with me and drop your car off tomorrow?"

I smiled gently and nodded in response. It's not like I could really speak right now while he was standing right there in front of me, his beautiful green eyes shining in the light.

He smirked in response and got to work hooking up my car, taking the keys and getting back into his truck. I was about to turn and leave when his voice called me back.

"Hey, wait!"

I turned and came back to his truck, leaning on the window to face him. He swallowed hard, and he looked... nervous?"

"I uh... Your name.. I need your name for the... papers."

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh, "The bill?"

He laughed to himself and dropped his head, "Yeah, that would have sounded better."

"What?"

He blushed and lifted his head, "Nothing, sorry. Um, your name is?"

My cheeks burned red, and for a split second I felt like I couldn't breathe. The way he was staring at me was different than before; it was intimidating and filled me with desire for this random man.

"Y/N.. My name is Y/N."

He breathed in as a relaxed smile erupted on his face. "That's a gorgeous name."

I could feel the heat spreading all down my body; the nerves were kicking in. Why was he flirting with me of all people? Did he know about me?

"And your name?"

"Oh right." he laughed, sticking his hand out to shake mine. "I'm Dean."

I smirked as his name left his lips. Dean-now there's a name I wouldn't mind screaming out. No, wait, stop.

"Dean.. What a unique name, I like it."

This time his cheeks burned red, and god, he was so cute when he blushed. He cleared his throat and nodded before starting the car, a small wink sent my way making my stomach do backflips.

"I'll see you tomorrow Y/N."

I smiled in response, "Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow, Dean."

I watched the truck leave the parking lot, and strangely enough, I felt sad. I didn't even really know Dean, yet my heart missed him. It was crazy-really frigging crazy.

Is the universe messing with me? Is he?

Dean couldn't quite understand it, but he found himself strangely drawn to her. Everything about her seemed to captivate him; the way she looked at him, the effortless way her hair fell across her shoulders in the truck, her attitude, her infectious laugh and her smile that could light up a room.

As he parked the truck and began to unhook the car, his father appeared, wearing his usual grumpy expression.

"What are you doing?" his father questioned with a hint of disapproval.

"Changing the tires," Dean replied, glancing at the car and then back at his father.

His father scoffed, visibly annoyed. "With her. Haven't you heard the rumours about her and Andrew?"

"Yeah, but she seems alright. They are rumours, Dad."

"You do realize that by helping her out, Winchester Mechanics could lose our opportunity to go on the news? Andrew promised us some TV time, but that could change once he finds out you're getting cozy with his ex."

Dean rolled his eyes, frustrated by his father's stubbornness and self-centeredness. Despite his good intentions, his father often looked down on his choices.

"Dad, I'm just fixing her car. We just met, it's not that big of a deal."

"Sure," his father muttered skeptically. "I saw how you looked at her. Just... be smart, Dean."

After his father left, Dean leaned against her car and couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew he had lied to his dad—it was a bigger deal than he let on. There was something about her that had taken hold of him, something he couldn't quite explain. Deep down, he knew this was just the beginning. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.

He would find out tomorrow for sure.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#supernatural fanfiction

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literaryavenger · 9 months

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Captain America: The Winter Soldier - 3

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

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

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

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell’s going on?

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

“Maybe two.” Sam adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He then turns to the last person in the room.

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

You grin at him while Fury scoffs a little.

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

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

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

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

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

“You and Wilson, huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Y/N?” he questions the team.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Asshole.” you greet him with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

“I did what I did to protect people.”

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

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

“Retinal scanner active.” the computer says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all reluctantly lower your weapons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all look outside as the Helicarriers start going down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Romanoff!” he says “Natasha!”

“Tasha, come on!” you say desperately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do enlighten us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” you both say at the same time.

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

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

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

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

“She's not a nurse.”

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

“What was her name again?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

And with that, she’s gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So,” Sam says, “when do we start?”

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xx-craftycreep-xx · 5 months

Note

So hiiiii it's the Toby Adams anon you can fulfill this request whenever you finish Toby's case file but could I get a one shot of the reader (gender neutral or male pronouns whichever you prefer) who used to be friends with him before everything went to shit soft domming Toby after they meet back up after the events of his case file and Toby confesses to them afterwards ❤️ I love Toby sm the man deserves some affection

- 🪓

You're correct! Cinnamon roll deserves love ❤️

Late night Loving

Warnings: Angst,mentions of violence,mentions of smut,Soft dom! reader,sub!Toby,Anal, Male x male,

Tobias Adams (Ticci Toby) x Male! reader

Or interact only if comfortable with warnings

2 am in the morning. A quite,calm yet eerie atmosphere. The sound of pen writing over pages could be heard.You sat in the kitchen as you wrote about your day.

Day 184 without Tobias

It had been 6 months and 1 day since he had turned himself to Pinhearst Hospital.

You had been wanting to visit him that fateful day. Only to find his hous on fire with him standing in front of it with a dead Mr.Crothers in his arms,crying to himself. He had told you about all his crimes and the ones he didn't commit. You never believed the stupid rumours at school and he was grateful for that.

You sat still as you recalled.

You listened to everything he said with horror,yet pity for him.

"What now,Toby? " You had asked. "I want to turn myself in, ___. I really don't feel like I deserve to live after this. I don't think I deserve your friendship. I don't th-"

"Tobias"

He looked at you. You stepped forward, taking his bone mask off and flinched at the sight of his face. Yet,you continued to raise your hand and cupped his cheek. "I'm gonna be there for you no matter what, Toby. I'll be here whenever you need me. If it takes time,I'll wait. But I'll stay,no matter what. And most importantly,stop blaming yourself,Tobias! It wasn't, isn't and will never be your fault. It is what it is. Now we just have to focus on the present and a better future."

Your patience was indeed running thin,but you knew you had to wait and that you WILL wait.After all,Toby was in his worst state, and he needed you, you couldn't just leave him like that!You sat there,contemplating life.

Everything was quite, until you heard a thud in your bedroom.You stood up. Grabbing a knife, you made your way to the bedroom. You slowly opened the door, peeking inside. You noticed that a book had fallen and that your window was open. But then your eyes trailed to your bed...and you felt that you were hallucinating. There he was,albeit in an orange uniform (That you recognised from Pinehearst Hospital) sitting on your bed, clearly distressed. You looked at him, heart thumping against your ribcage. "Toby..." His head shot up. "___" Your heart skipped a beat,looking at his pretty face. You moved towards him. He kept his eyes on yours as you did. You sat beside him,still not breaking eye contact. You wondered how he reached your home. Almost as he read your mind,he said,"I ran away from there, ___. Doctor Wilson was stabbed by another patient and the blame was on the both of us despite me not doing anything!I couldn't think,___! " You sighed. You looked down and then saw something.

His leg was injured. "Toby,your leg!" You immediately ran to your drawer,before being stopped. "I've fixed it." He said,lifting his pant to show you to wound. You breathed a sigh of relief.You sat back down,this time more closer."So...what was it like?" He pondered for a bit. "It was...good.Especially Dr.Wilson. He was kind,patient and calm.He was never forcing me to open up,but letting me take my time." You smiled upon hearing this.You looked at him. His eyee,his scars,His nose,his lips,his entire face...so gorgeous.You wished you could kiss him.His cheeks,his lips,his nose,his dic-

"___" You flinched. "Uh-Yeah?" You could see confusion in his eyes,but he shrugged it off. "Did you miss me?" he asked. What a stupid question."What makes you think I didn't? Toby,ypu matter a lot to me. You're my friend." You saw him visibly get upset at that. "Yeah...." his lips made a pout as he looked down. 'So fucking cute.' The pout made his lips look more kissable. Sure,they were slightly chapped,but that made you get off even more. You kept your gaze on him, the way some strands of his hair fell on his face,the way there were some extra scars than last time.You could feel your pants getting tight.

When was the last time you jerked off?

Couldn't even remember. "___" "Yeah?"

His brown coloured orbs were filled with...what you could identify as lust. "You look hot in sweatpants." He said. And the moment he said that, you looked down at yourself,relieved that your semi was not prominent. But when you looked at him,you internally moaned as you spotted his full bulge. "Toby...." He blushed. "I-I'm sorry-" "Take your clothes off."

"huh?" He looked at you,eyes filled with surprise,lust and one more emotion that you were scared to take the name of. "C'mon babe,take 'em off." He slowly took his orange shirt off. You gawked at his hot torso. It was toned, with very few hair at the chest and some pretty scars. Oh how you were going to lick them. He took his pants off, giving you a view of his blue boxers,already a little wet at the front.

"You now." He demanded. So you obliged. Once you were done,you looked at him.His eyes trailed all over your body,practically eye-fucking you. But you hadn't got your dick out yet."Take your boxers off,baby." He whimpered. He fucking whimpered.

He took them off and voila! There was the dick you had fantasized about. It was not too thick,but long. Veins were a little prominent, the tip already flushed. "Sorry for the jungle of hair,I didn't get time-" "It's okay." You looked at him with understanding as you took your own boxers off. "Holy shit! I never thought you'd pack so much,dude!" He exclaimed as you giggled. You laid him on the bed as you took his dick in your hand. You looked at him,silently asking a question. He nodded,giving you permission. You spat in your hand,and started stroking his member. He bit back a whimper. Once you were sure it was lubricated enough,you kissed his tip,earning a grunt from him. You finally wrapped your lips around his dick,moan causing vibrations to flow through Toby's body. You started bobbing your head up and down, going fast then switching you speed to slow. You tried your best to ignore your own dick begging for attention.Toby's soft moans encouraged you as you massaged his balls.You kept on going,until he said,"___..I'm- Close-" You immediately stopped,resulting in Toby whining.

"Not so soon, pretty boy." You got on your knees,immediately smirking as you looked at the mess Toby was. His hair spread on your bed,lips parted,face slightly flushed as his chest heaved. You arched your body forward,opening the drawer next to your bed. Toby's adorable, curious eyes followed your movements. His eyes slightly widening as you took out lube. You poured it in your hands, closed the bottle and kept it back on your nightstand. You applied it on your dick,as Toby watched with fascination. "Definitely the hottest thing I've ever seen." He thought. You applied the remaining lube on his asshole,not before asking him a question,which he nodded to.

You pressed your tip to his entrance.Slowly,you started pushing,your dick gliding easily. Both of you moaned in unison as you fully sheathed yourself inside him."Feelin' good?" You asked.

"Yeah...Please..fuck me ___." You chuckled as you started thrusting."Fffuucckkkk" Both if you groaned in unison as you started thrusting faster.

"Your so fucking wet f'me,baby.Takin' me so well."He moaned at your praise." I want you.I-ah- Want you.." You increased your pace. "To what,sweetie? Use your words!" "I want you to fuck me! Harder!" he yelled,clearly stimulated due to the gap in masturbation.

You lift his legs up,placing them on your shoulders,fucking him in a deeper angle. "Yeah! Like that! Fuck me like tha-ah-" You looked at his dick as it twitched."I'm cumming!" He yelled. You kept on thrusting. "I'm close! I'm close! I'm-" he groaned loudly as he came.Ropes of thick cum spurting on his own chest as you jerked him off.You could feel your own orgasm inching closer. "I'm-" You couldn't even warn him as you came,still not stopping as you rode out your orgasm. "s' so hot" he moaned,grabbing your cum stained hands to help you. With one final thrust,you fell on him,your chest getting stained with his sticky cum.You both panted heavily,the afterglow hitting.Once you both calmed down,you decided to take a shower. Toby followed you in amd that led to another round. Coming out of the shower,you gave him your spare clothes,fawning over how adorable looked.

You both lay in bed,side by side. .

"___."

"Yeah?"

"I want you to be my boyfriend." You looked at him,heart beating loudly.

"I know..it's risky now that I'm a murderer. But..I need you..I Love you." He looked at you with pleading eyes. How could you say no? You nodded. He immediately kissed you. It was a soft yet passionate kiss. However, you felt him stop. Opening your eyes,you realised he was fast asleep. You smiled. Looking at him,you felt your own eyes getting heavy. Soon,you were fast asleep.

A/N: Dividers by @cafekitsune

#Tobias Adams #Toby Adams #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x reader

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paintingraves · 2 years

Text

wilson’s new obsession is bad puns. when he’s not busy with pressing hospital matters he makes a game out of cornering house at every turn and hitting him with the worst, stupidest, lamest puns he can think of. he looks them up at night before bed and memorizes a dozen of them for the next day, giggling to himself under the covers.

the first few days, house ponders what wilson is up to. if this is to distract him from some bigger, elaborate prank. but he quickly understands that it’s nothing of the sort, just wilson having some fun and sharing some particularly bad humor with his friend, so he indulges him.

wilson delights in the tired yet expectant look on house’s face when he barges into his office at all hours of the day. he plays the game and tries to find the answer to wilson’s puns before he says the punchline, but he can’t guess them all and wilson always has the last word. he leaves house’s office laughing and their little game carries him through the day, when he has to take care of the dying and announce news to patients.

it goes on and one day they’re at the cafeteria, eating together. well, wilson eating and house stealing half his food. wilson hasn’t made a pun all day and house wonders if the game is over, or if wilson just isn’t up for it. knowing he’ll regret this, he asks, “cat got your tongue?” and wilson looks up. he knows immediately what house is asking for and he beams at him.

“oh, god, forget I asked,” house quips, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“no, wait, i’ve got a few good ones.”

house groans and sits back down and has to listen and answer to some more terrible puns. one of them is so silly it makes wilson cry from laughter - he can’t even say the punchline before he starts breaking into peals of laughter again - and it’s contagious and house laughs too. they must look weird, sitting there barely able to catch their breath as they laugh - and house hears wilson calm down as he tries to catch his own breath, and he giggles again, and looks up and -

and wilson is looking at him with the softest smile he’s ever seen, cheeks pink, his gaze unbelievably fond. and house feels his heart skip a beat, and thinks - oh. oh.

because how could anyone look at him like this, with so much love? how has he not noticed before how much wilson cares?

“you...” he breathes, and wilson ducks his head.

“your fries are going cold,” he says, and eats one.

“you love me,” house says, still struck dumb.

“of course i do, house,” wilson replies without skipping a beat. “god help me, you’re my best friend.”

“no, no,” house insists, leaning over the table and peering at wilson’s face. “i mean, you love love me.”

wilson says nothing. he seems to pause, looking for words. he abandons his food and crosses his arms, and softly, he says, “yes. of course i do.”

and house can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“it’s okay,” says wilson, getting up, with another infuriatingly soft smile on his face. “i know you don’t feel the same way, house. i don’t expect you to. i thought you knew, though, had known for a long time. i didn’t exactly hide it.”

“you thought i knew? how could i have known?!”

“well. everything, really.” wilson waves a hand vaguely. “anyway, i have to go back to work. this doesn’t have to change anything. i’m still gonna make terrible puns tomorrow, and i hope you’re here to hear them. good luck with your patient.”

and just like that, he’s gone, and house is left alone with that revelation, his mind reeling, his heart beating in his chest like he’s just run a marathon.

holy fuck.

#house md #james wilson #gregory house #hilson #idk folks just take this #my fic

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nescaveckwriter · 3 months

Text

Bundled, Broken Maybe Healed (Part 2)

Prompt: Bundled up in blankets - will be in bold,😱

A/N: YAY! My third one for @badthingshappenbingo 🤭, Okay y'all, this chapter is intense, I'm not kidding.. we find more out about Meredith's past and its traumatic okay... So good luck...😱💓❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, blood and gore, normal Criminal Minds stuff, going into depth off crime scenes etc, drug use,torture, anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, JJ, Emily Prentiss, Meredith Lang.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:3000ish 😅

Chapter Name: Bundled, Broken, Maybe Healed? (Part one) (part two) (Part three)

something, the pinch between my toes was horrible, but the pain didn’t last long, no! I saw these little bits of spiders coming from everywhere, I tried my best to smash them but I couldn’t due restraints, it was scary, the spiders I mean, I never was a fan, I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it felt like I wanted to crawl, get out of my skin, out of my body. So when my first high came down I was back in the cage, watching how he would drug Hope,’ she paused, looked at me and said ‘no! He , Never did touch us, you know… I guess we could be thankful, this was clearly not a sexual thing, more sadistic, he got off on our fear.’ I looked at her, this teenager who went through something horrible, and I realised that she is one intelligent human being, she profilled this man, without any experience, so she looked at me “you know, what one day, I will find Hope, and I will find the collector and I put him behind bars, make him suffer the way we did.’ I knew right then and there I needed to call Jason Gideon, maybe her healing journey starts with justice. And as the days passed and she spoke, of her time, that everyday he’d do it over and over again, how he broke in the girls, to listen too him, too obey him, every order, he’’l train them like dogs, to fight each other, and how she did not participate in it, she’ll let the others beat her up, even Hope in the end started to beat her up, but that day she broke down, she sobbed, not because she felt the pain of her best friend turning on her, no, but because she couldn’t save her, she couldn’t stop him, from brain washing her, from ruining her, she looked me and my heart shattered, her words tore through me ‘if only I could help Hope be strong enough, he would’ve thrown her out just like me, I tried, I tried to talk to her, to make her strong, but nothing work’ she clenched her fist, ‘The collector got rid of me,because of not listening I was bad for his business, no one wanted buy me, hell I don’t even think he advertised, but he tried to make me fear him,, and internally I did, but I didn’t show it, he would starve me for, days, I felt weak, at first but after a while, numb… so one day he pumped me full of drugs, and I remember thinking, this is it, finally I’ll overdose and this nightmare will be over, till today I remember feeling, cold like really cold, and I wrapped myself in blankets and it didn’t help, by now I was so used to seeing the spiders, that I would talk to them, I knew they weren’t real, but to me, they we the only familiarity that I had, so I felt comfortable with, them.’ she gave a humorless laugh ‘Now, I’m probably never getting out of here doc am I?’ I smiled and told her that I understood, but really how could I? I have a feeling she deliberately skips parts, that’s too painful to tell over, or she’s afraid that she’ll scare someone, she is highly sensitive but she doesn’t show it, she hates feeling vulnerable, the moment she’ll feel scared she lash out, but at the same time she’ll care about the people around. She trusts no one, in one of our sessions she disclosed that she doesn’t even trust her parents. Sometimes I try to press that subject, but she’ll ignore it, saying ‘one time thing doc’ and start talking about something different.

#bad things happen bingo #finding hope #nescveckwriter #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #jason gideon #Spotify

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kudosmyhero · 3 months

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Superman/Batman Annual #4: A Time Beyond Hope

Read Date: July 08, 2023 Cover Date: August 2010 ● Writer: Paul Levitz ● Penciler: Renato Guedes ● Inker: José Wilson Magalhaés ● Colorist: Renato Guedes ● Letterer: Steve Wands ● Editor: Eddie Berganza ◦ Rex Ogle ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● I think this is the one I need to read for the podcast, but… if it’s the right one, the podcast info will be below as usual. ● I know next to nothing about Batman Beyond. don’t even know who this Batman is ● Terry? ● I can see where this suit is a bit intimidating

● so Wayne—presumably Bruce—is on the intercom ● yup, an older Bruce ● Terry McGinnis? my first time hearing of him. ● Metallo. new one for me, too ● why did you say “Three!” outloud, Terry?? element of surprise, my man. element of surprise. ● an article of clothing over a chair and a few papers on the floor doesn’t qualify as “inhumanly filthy,” Terry ● “He doesn’t even know how lonely he is.” —oof ● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: The story opens with Batman busting some thugs from Metropolis and questioning why they're in Gotham. One of them says that there's a ghost nabbing criminals off the streets without a trace. Following a lead, Terry stakes out the city trying to find a drug dealer from Metropolis. Discovering that Metallo is behind the drug trafficking, Terry manages to drop him in a river while recovering a bag of his product to take back for testing. Returning to the Batcave, Batman and his mentor, Bruce, find that they all have a small degree of kryptonite in them.

Going to Metropolis, Batman looks for clues, completely missing the most recent round of disappearances. Unsuccessful, Bruce tells Batman to check a private address for an old friend but instead finds the place unlived in and a list of automatic payments set up to keep people from snooping. One of these payments is for flowers to be delivered to the grave of Lois Lane once a week for the last ten years. Terry goes to the grave to investigate further and is completely unaware that Superman is watching him from above. Unable to walk among the public now that everyone has trace amounts of kryptonite in them, Superman's inner monologue tells us that Lex Luthor is behind this.

Going undercover in his civilian identity as Terry, Batman joins a gang stealing drugs, to trace them back to their boss. The robbery goes bad and the ghost takes everyone but Terry. Winning favor with the local boss, Terry is sent with a new gang to steal a Solar Power Concentrator from the Fortress of Solitude. All but Terry and one other are captured by the ghost as they claim their prize. Returning to the mastermind's shielded lair, Terry finds Lex waiting and fully aware of Terry's dual identity. Lex attacks Terry just as Superman appears to save the day. Lex powers up the Solar Concentrator making a battle suit manned by one of his men that's just as strong as Superman. Weakened by the kryptonite in Luthor's hover chair, Superman takes a beating as Terry finds a way to get rid of the chair. As Superman's strength is restored, he beats the armored thug and Luthor states when he dies all of Metropolis is rigged to die with him. Superman takes a miniature Phantom Zone projector out of his pocket and imprisons Luthor for eternity, preventing the city from being destroyed. Terry determines that Superman is the ghost and has been trapping people in the Phantom Zone all this time. Superman announces that he's leaving Earth to see the universe and hands the Phantom Zone Projector to Terry to be the new jailor. Superman flies off after giving Terry a watch and telling him to call if he ever needs help.

(https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Superman/Batman_Annual_Vol_1_4)

Fan Art: Batman beyond by glencanlas

#comics #comic books #fan art #fanart #dc comics #dc #my dc read #batman beyond #superman

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iceeericeee · 1 year

Text

September

Here is my contribution to NATM day <3

Notes: This is basically how the Shroomies get together (romantically). Also, I'm aro, so excuse me if none of this makes sense, but romance is not my first language :')

Drew POV:

‘Ugghhh, my head hurts. I’m never sleeping outside without a tent again.’ I think to myself. ‘Maybe I can get back home and take a nap.’

“Where d’yah reckon she came from?”

‘What the fuck?’

“I dunno, new addition, maybe?”

‘Since when did we have yeehaws in Washington? And what’s this dude going on about?’

“Then shouldn’t she be in a position? Why’s she lying down?”

‘In position? What am I, an actor? Oh god, are they using my campsite for a film?’

“Beats me.”

I shifted a bit, pressing my hands against my temple. I slowly sat up, opening my eyes. I saw three people in a loose semicircle in front of me, dressed up like cowboys. When they saw me move, they quickly shuffled away, giving me space.

“Someone get Jed, he’s better at explainin’ this to newbies,” the guy on the left ran off, leaving a small trail of dust behind him.

‘Hold up. Dust??’

“You need some help gettin up there, sunshine?” One of them offered.

“Uh, yeah, no thanks. I’m fine.” As he raised his hands in defense, I quickly got up to look around.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

I was at a railroad, and right in front of me was a short expanse of sand and dirt, which suddenly stopped after a few yards, and opened to an enormous hallway, with a giant bench in the middle. I’d recognize this place anywhere.

“How- how in the hell-” Oh wait. ‘Fuckin Annabel. I know she did this, and when I see him, I’m gonna wring his damn neck.’ Then I looked down to see what I was wearing.

“Oh, hell no.”

I’m wearing one of those dresses you only see in those old western movies. It’s a flattering shade of pine green, with small white flowers decorating the hem. It’s pretty, but it’s definitely not me. I can almost hear Annabel laughing.

‘Speaking of Annabel, why did they think it was a good idea to put me here? There’s really no point,’ I think to myself. ‘Unless- no, they wouldn’t. They’re not-’ But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. But then, where’s Charlie? If they’re trying to get us together, then wouldn’t she be here too?

‘Wait. Didn’t that one guy say-’

“Hey there! You alrigh’?”

‘Fuuuuuuuuck, it’s Jedidiah.’

I turn around, and sure enough, it’s Owen Wilson’s Jedidiah Smith in all his glory.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, I’m doin good,” the words almost rush out of my mouth. ‘Damn you, bisexual panic.’

He stuck out a hand. “Name’s Jedidiah, but you can just call me Jed,” he introduced.

Resisting the urge to say that I already knew that, I shook his hand. “I’m Drew. I'm looking for someone, maybe you've seen her?"

"Well, there ain't been anyone new here, 'cept for you, 'f 'course,"

'Damn, I guess she's not in this part of the museum.' "Can you help me find her? Please?" At this point I'm practically begging. I've got to find Charlie, I need to make sure she's alright.

"Of 'course! We'll go over to Octy, see if he knows where your friend's gone off to."

*time skip to when they get to the roman side*

We get to the Roman side, and I almost pass out when I see the architecture. It might all be done for looks, but from what I could see, they did a fantastic job on the details.

I'm interrupted from my gazing when Jedidiah says, "Y'know, yer takin' this a lot better than most,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, fer one, yer not panickin at the fact yer tiny, now."

'I'm too surprised I'm in a movie to be upset that I'm small, but okay.'

"And two, well, it's mostly just you not panickin', that's all I really got." As he says this, I start hearing talking in the distance. Some voices I don't know, but two of them stick out.

"-and, oh my gosh, your actually Octavius! This is wild, wow!"

We turn a corner and there she is, talking to Octavius and some of the other roman soldiers. And- oh god, she's wearing a toga. If she wasn't cute before, she definitely was now.

Running as fast as I can towards her, I shout, "Charlie!"

She turns around just in time to get tackle hugged by me. I almost cry into her shoulder. 'We might both be small here, but at least we're not alone,'

I vaguely hear Octavius ushering the Jedidiah and the others out to give us space, too focused on hugging Charlie. 'Wait, I'm hugging Charlie.'

I awkwardly back up, blushing. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to just hug you, I just- I- fuck, I'm just sorry."

"Drew! It's okay, you're fine!" I look at her and she's smiling at me, and without missing a beat she goes on. "You don't need to apologize, you know how much I love hugs!"

Ah, fuck. Now I look like an idiot. In front of Charlie, too.

Before I can say anything, she says, "I can't believe we're in a movie! And not just any movie, Night at the Museum! I was just talking to Octavius! Octavius, Drew! The emperor of Rome, lover of Jedidiah Smith! And-"

I interrupted her before she could continue. "Charlie, we can't stay here. We have to go home."

"But, Drew, there's so much to do here! We can't just leave without saying hi-"

"...Charlie..."

“-and we can talk to all the different exhibits! Oh my gosh, Drew this is gonna be so fun! Who should we talk to first?”

“Charlie…”

“I was thinking Sacajawea, she’s so cool! Oh! Do you think she’d like me?”

“Charlie.”

“What am I talking about, of course she would. Maybe after her we can go see Ahk!”

“Charlie-”

“Maybe he’d even let us look at the tablet! The Tablet! I wonder if it’s cold? Or does the magic make it warm?”

“Charlie-!”

“*gasp* Oh my gosh I almost forgot about the stars! Maybe we could-

“Charlie! Listen to me, goddammit!”

She stopped, startled at my outburst, looking at me with those big eyes.

“Charlie- *sigh*” My voice trembles as I say, “Look at us, Charlie, we’re too small.”

She gives me a look that says she doesn’t understand.

“We could die here, Charlie. Can’t you see that?”

It looks as though a switch is flipped in her head. She's quiet, so I go on.

"Charlie, we can't stay here, you have to understand. It's just- it's not- I can't-"

"We're- we're gonna die here?" her voice quivers, tears are starting to build in her eyes.

'Oooohh, I fucked uppppp,'

"No- no, Charlie, we're not-"

"Drew, I don't wanna die." Her voice is vibrating now, and she can't hold back her tears.

"Charlie, honey, look at me. No, don't look over there, look at me, okay?" She looks at me, and seeing her cry almost makes me break. But I have to be strong. For the both of us.

"Okay, I want you to repeat after me." She nods.

"We are going to get home."

"We- *sniff* we are going to get- get home."

"We are going to be okay."

"We are- going to- to be okay."

"We are not going to die."

"We are not- not going to die."

"Good. Now, let's figure out what to do first, alright?"

"Alright."

"Let's go and find the others, they might be able to help us out." Charlie grabs my hand as I walk away, making me stop.

"Drew. They went this way."

I let out a small sigh and smile a bit to myself. 'Good, she's back to normal. Somewhat.' "Yeah, you're right. We'll go and ask for help, this way."

That gets a small laugh out of her.

'Don't worry, Charlie. We'll get home. No matter what it takes.'

---------

Aaaaaaanndd that's all for now :) I'll make a part 2 to this, it's just starting to get kinda long for me, so I'm stopping for now.

#Shroomies #night at the museum #natm #my OC's #Charlie #Drew #Charlie x Drew #Drew x Charlie #Jedidiah Smith #Jedidiah natm #Gaius octavius #Octavius natm

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hiddles-and-skittles · 3 years

Text

Driving Lessons

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,874 (I’ve rewritten this so many times I settled on this version)

Summary: Bucky teaches you how to drive! (...but not really)

Warnings: ***18+ ONLY, fluff, smut-ish (fingering), Bucky being a tease, anxiety mentions, can’t think of anything else but don’t hesitate to let me know!

Notes: I can’t drive and I feel like a burden because of this. For one I’m way too anxious, and two, my hands cannot grip and sometimes I can’t even move the lower half of my body. I have SLE, fibro, MCTD, and polymyositis. I can’t hold the steering wheel because my hands slip off very easily. I’ve only been behind the wheel twice and I’m 22. So this fic is sort of a way to comfort myself about it.

______________

"Look, I can ask Bucky to-" "No!"

Sam Wilson drops a waffle and stares at you as if you've punted a toddler across a football field. "Ask Bucky to what?" You hear from the entryway of your shared apartment. The door shuts behind a curious Bucky. "She needs a ride to work tomorrow," says Sam, still side eyeing you. He picks up the very waffle he dropped in his plate and brings a piece to his mouth. "It's fine," you snap, sending a threatening glare at him. "I can walk." You twirl a straw around in your cup of milk. Sam snorts. "Walk? You do realize it's 35 degrees outside?" "So I'll wear a sweater."

He opens his mouth to respond but Bucky makes his way to the table and holds up a hand to stop him. "I can take you. It's no big deal." "Perfect,” agrees Sam. "Y'all can take the truck." Bucky shoots a questioning glance between you and his friend. "If you're leaving the truck then why does she need a ride?" You suck in a breath and press your lips into a firm line, embarrassed by what's about to be said aloud. "She can't drive." Ugh. And there it is. Quickly you jump to defend yourself. "It isn't for lack of trying! I've just never had anyone to teach me and Sam isn't home most of the time and it's late when I get off work and-" "Liar," Sam scoffs. He looks at Bucky. "She's terrified of driving." Bucky hums thoughtfully, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes as he looks at you. "How 'bout I teach you a little bit before you go into work tomorrow?" Your eyes widen and you’re certain your heart is visibly beating outside your chest. "N-no! That's okay, ha, um, thanks though..." He grins at you. "You'll do fine. You'll see." You gulp. * Without so much as a wink of sleep, you're sat in an empty lot, bug eyed and revved up on an energy drink that’s replaced the blood in your veins. "Alright, so let’s get-" Bucky starts. "If you yell at me I swear to Thor I will floor the gas and kill us both." You white knuckle the steering wheel the second you close the driver side's door. His demeanor changes with a chuckle and a twitch at both corners of his mouth, sounding off your already on-edge alarms. He notices your expression and holds his hands up, apologizing. "I get that you’re scared, but I promise driving isn't hard. And I won't yell at you, okay?" Your grip loosens up as you exhale and slump back against the seat. "That's what everyone else did." Your head lowers at the flashbacks zooming through your mind. “I’m not everyone else." You let out the breath you've been holding, realizing it’s unfair to hold him to that standard. "Quick favor?" You look over at him, his handsome face donning a compassionate smile. "Start it up? It's freezing." You laugh and twist the keys in the ignition, setting the heat to blast on the both of you. The blue ball cap keychain that reads 'I'm a civilian' you got Sam clacks against the underside of the wheel. Your hand rests on the gearshift in anticipation of the next step, but you can't bring yourself to switch it into drive. "It's okay," Bucky soothes, placing a gloved metal hand over yours. "Let me help you out." You nod, heart skipping a beat when his hand grasps yours and pulls the gearshift to 'D.' It takes a few minutes to even put your foot on the gas pedal. Thankfully the truck is on level concrete, otherwise it would be moving by itself. You inhale and slowly slide your foot over the pedal, pushing down just barely enough to go three miles an hour. "There you go," he encourages. Instead of being oh so adventurous and taking your first turn, you drive straight for as far as the lot goes, finally working up to seven miles an hour. Eventually the locks on the truck's doors click and Bucky notices you gaining speed. "Good girl," he purrs. "You're doing so good for me." Your foot fumbles on the pedal and you fake cough to stifle a gasp. This doesn't escape his attention. "You okay?" He asks, his voice feigning innocence. "Y-yep! All good!" You can't look anywhere but dead ahead. Your heart is already in your throat from being behind the wheel but now that you have his raspy voice in your ear, it makes you twice as on edge. There's nowhere to go except left, but you cut the wheel too quickly when you turn, hitting a curb and slamming the brakes as if your life depends on it. You squeeze your eyes shut as you await an angry reaction from your unbelievably quiet passenger, but it never comes. "I'm sorry," you squeak, tears already springing to your eyes. Bucky tilts his head, giving you his trademark puppy dog eyes. "Shhh, hey, it's okay." He undoes his seat belt and slides over to wrap an arm around your shoulders, shifting the gear to 'P. "Still alive, aren't I?"

"This is so stupid! I'm stupid!" Your hand flies to your forehead for dramatic emphasis. "You're not stupid," he assures you, flesh hand grabbing your own. "Who on earth fears driving? I mean seriously?" "Don't be so hard on yourself when you haven't even started yet. Just gotta be patient." His thumb affectionately rubs back and forth on top of your hand. "You need to relax." You throw your head back. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?" "Let me worry about that," he whispers, scooting over further to where his thigh touches yours. As if that wasn't enough to make your heart rate hasten again, he undoes your seatbelt, bringing it up so it doesn't hit you, then lays his right hand on your cheek to pull you towards him. His forehead rests against yours, and his soft, parted lips hover above your own. "Uhhh...h-how is this supposed to relax me?" Unfazed by your awkward interruption, Bucky smiles in response, dipping his head lower to capture your lips. Your eyelids flutter shut and the hand on your cheek glides down your neck, thumb resting over your pulse point. He pulls away, nuzzling his nose to yours. "Patience." "I-I know what you're doing," you swallow, your eyes still shut. "But it's not going to work." He replaces his fingers with his lips. "You don't think so?" While he nips up your throat to place a tender kiss behind your ear, you reach to draw him in closer by his dog tags. A hushed moan escapes your lips as he peppers kisses up and down your neck. When you attempt to get a little more comfortable your elbow hits the center of the steering wheel, emitting an extremely loud honk that causes you and Bucky to spring backwards. Taking a beat to calm down, both of you meet the other's eyes and laugh. "Maybe I do need a distraction." He hums in agreement, looking down at you with darkened, lust filled eyes. You forget to breathe for a second. " 's what I've been telling you." "Your lips felt nice," you blurt, mentally kicking yourself. He lets out a low laugh, biting his bottom lip. "Yeah? Well I wasn't done with you." You yelp as he hooks his hands under your ass, yanking you unbelievably close. "Where were we?" Before you can muster a response his lips descend on yours again, successfully knocking all the air out of your lungs as he leans back against the passenger side door with you on top of him. Your hands wander up to his hair while his mouth continues its loving assault, the stubble above his upper lip tickling you. He brings his flesh hand to the front of your jeans and you depart with a shuddered breath, eyes flicking downward then back up to his. His eyebrows raise to ask silent permission and you respond with a simple "Please," spurring him on. The button of your pants pops open and you nearly lose yourself right then. He urges you to look at him while he undoes the zipper slowly, the intensity of his passionate gaze causing you to grind down on the seat. A relieved sigh leaves your lips when his warm, calloused fingers meet your soft folds, and your hands return to grip his shirt, yanking him back down to you. Desperation for your own release shows from the unrelenting bucking against his hand when suddenly he stops. "Relax," he whispers, taking one of your hands and kissing the palm. "We'll get there." "Can we get there now?" Your brain responds, but only a whine comes out. "Breathe for me," he instructs firmly, and you do just that, earning back the sweet pressure of his fingers. "Good girl." You hum as his middle finger collects your wetness, slowly pushing up inside you. His thumb circles your clit and you whimper softly, leaning forward until your forehead meets his shoulder. You wrench your eyes shut trying not to go absolutely feral, thinking he'll probably stop again. "I love how tight you are." Your heart skips a beat at his praise. His sweet voice combined with his obscenities accelerates your already approaching climax. Your body rocks involuntarily as he adds another digit, adjusting the speed and settling on a painfully slow rhythm that sets you on the brink of relief, but just isn't quite enough. Your eyebrows knit together and you pant uncontrollably while your hands slide down his arm to grip his wrist. He nudges his now cold-tipped nose into your hair. "Can only imagine how you'll feel wrapped around my cock." Your body freezes and an unbridled sob wracks through you as you finally feel yourself explode with pleasure, his movements not stopping until you feebly attempt to yank his hand away. While your breathing begins to level out, he wraps his arms around you and places gentle kisses on the side of your head and down your cheek, shushing you softly to soothe you. "You okay?" He asks, sounding a little concerned. His hand cards through your hair as you sit paralyzed from pleasure and you manage a quiet hum in response, wrapping your arms around him. "And you said it wouldn't work.” He kisses your forehead. “I think it might have worked too well."

“Well,” you start, coming to your senses. “I can’t exactly feel my legs, so, yeah, I’d say it worked.”

He laughs, patting your back. “Guess that means I’ll have to show you how to drive next time.”

“Next time? You saying I’m not ready to jump into traffic?” you tease, lifting your head to look at him.

“Oh, no, definitely not.” He smirks as you playfully backhand his chest. “There’s a lot of stuff I gotta teach you first.”

You fish your phone out of your pocket to check the time. “Punctuality might be next.” You hold your phone to where he can see it and he shoots you a look that reads ‘sorry, but not really.’ “I’m late for work.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader smut #my writing #marvel fanfic #mcu #marvel #smut #my fic

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Note

Hi! I was the person before with earth shattering excitement that you write for Wade and I was wondering if you could write something with a gender neutral partner who has Tourette’s? If not it’s okay! But I have Tourette’s and it’s honestly exhausting. I get a lot of (deeply unwanted) attention because of it so it’s made me mildly agoraphobic and when I am out, I get really anxious, which in turn, triggers my tics more but there was one occasion that I had gone out with a group of friends (two of which I didn’t know very well and one that I had never met before that day- like a friend of a friend kind of thing) but when we walked into a shopping center, it hit me, and without even skipping a beat, the one I’d never met prior, just went ‘FUCK’ back at me and it was honestly so funny because it caught me off guard but because I tend to get a couple of stares, anytime it happened, he’d go out of his way to one up whatever my tic was, which most of them aren’t even swearing (a couple of times, it did triggered it more and one of the things he said has become a long term tic that still occurs) but for the most part, I was too amused to worry about other people and it was a fun outing with minimal anxiety but I was wondering if you could write something similar like that with Wade? But maybe he can tell when it’s getting too much for his s.o because I can’t speak for everyone with Tourette’s but it causes me a fair amount of pain and is just overall draining not just physically but mentally and emotionally too. I know the way that I put it at first made it sound silly, like it’s all fun and games, but it’s not in the slightest. So, maybe it could be something similar, but when Reader starts getting overwhelmed/their muscles start spasming (mine tends to manifest mostly in my neck) Wade completely shifts gears and is really gentle with them. He just holds them and talks them through it and maybe gives them his hoodie as like a sensory comfort thing until it passes and he helps them into a bath. I understand that this isn’t the kind of thing you usually write, so no pressure but it would mean a lot to see such a personal representation with my comfort character. Your writing is stellar by the way, you’re absolutely amazing!

Thank you so much for trusting me with this request, love 💜 I hope you enjoy it!

Centre of Attention || Wade Wilson

Wade Wilson x tourettes!gn!reader

Warnings: Where to begin...18+ only, nsfw, swearing, canon-typical Deadpool nonsense & violence, injuries (reader & Wade), mentions of blood, fluff WC: 2k

You opened the fridge door and just managed to miss hitting with your forehead as your neck jerked, tossing your head forwards. Your stomach growled once again and you looked for something to eat but what little food there was looked completely unappealing so you closed it a little harder than you meant to, the jam jars rattling as the glass clinked. With a sigh, you pulled out your phone and called Wade, hoping he wasn’t too busy to answer the phone.

“Yello,” he answered happily, “what can I do you for?”

“Free, if you bring me home some food.” You replied before your tongue suctioned to the roof of your mouth and made a loud pop.

“God I love it when you use your tongue like that.” He groaned before shouting. “No, no, not the schlong!”

You heard a gunshot ring out, almost deafening you through the phone and Wade’s pained cry sounded more like he was in mourning than hurt. Your phone almost fell from your hand as your fingers bent to the shape of a gun and you mimicked the shots fired. “You alright there, baby? Bang! Bang!”

“Please hold the line, daddy’s gotta make somebody pay.” He whispered before Angel of the Morning started playing and you put the phone on speaker to listen while you waited for him to take you off hold.

It had just built up to the chorus and you were singing your heart out when the music died and Wade returned. “Goddammit.”

“Lose the…tip again?” You asked with a whistle between your words.

“The tip?” He gasped. “I’m six inches short of a sub sandwich and I have a gaping glory hole that needs to be sewn.”

Wade seemed to lose his dick more than any other body part but thankfully it didn’t take too long to regrow. Still, it had to hurt. You weren’t going to offer to sew his costume again, not after the last time when your arm muscles had spasmed and you pricked yourself with the needle.

“Are you going to be long? I’m, your daddy now, hungry.” You said as your head jerked and you felt the muscles beginning to ache at the repetitive tic.

“You could meet me at Sister Margaret's.” Wade suggested as he plugged the hole where his cock used to be, stemming the bleeding as he left the mangled remains of a cartel behind him. “And could you bring a change of clothes? Mei Mei’s red panda has nothing on this bad boy.”

You didn’t really want to go to Weasel’s bar because the wayward mercenaries usually left you with a few new tics, and some tended to last longer than others, but you found yourself agreeing when your stomach rumbled yet again. “Fine, but no blowjobs tonight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He lied. “Oh, Dopinder just got here - I’ll see you soon.“

“See you soon.” You could hear the car door shutting as he climbed into the taxi and your hand slapped your chest leaving a burning mark in the shape of your hand. “I love you.”

“I love you more than a finger in my ass.”

“That’s a lot of love.” You laughed before ending the call and making your way to Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children.

Wade had beaten you there my seconds as you saw Dopinder’s taxi pulling away from the curb and you gave him a wave, but not without first raising your fist with your middle finger up. Your tics were already increasing just by being close to the chaotic atmosphere of the bar and the moment you opened the door your head jerks strained your neck muscles. The entire bar turned as you stepped inside, and raised their glasses with a shout of curses - bets laid to guess which would be the first out of your mouth.

Your elbow flew back, smashing into the brick wall behind you, and your eyes blinked uncontrollably with the pain radiating up your arm. You were overwhelmed with their attempts to trigger you and Wade noticed that you weren’t finding it amusing like you had on previous occasions. He slammed his glass down on the bartop with a shout for everyone to shut up and the raucous fizzled out, your palm slapping the already tender skin of your chest once again and a whistle piercing the air.

“Sorry, motherfucker cocksucker.” You apologised as you made your way through the crowd towards Wade as he came to meet you halfway.

“Don’t apologise to these sore losers.” Wade said, before pointing to the wager board that showed he won the bet with your first curse.

“What’s with the fanny pack?” You frowned as you looked at the pouch he wore low on his hips, your nose wrinkling in rapid succession until you felt like you needed to sneeze.

“What, this old thing?” He asked as he unclipped it and you saw the half healed wound that used to be his manhood. “Dee thinks it suits me.”

“Lord Little Dick.” You shouted before clipping the pack back in place. “Jesus, that’s bad. Are you sure it was a gun?”

“Believe me.” He nodded. “I saw that puppy up close and extremely personal.”

You took a seat at the bar where Wade had been sitting while he went and changed into the clothes you bought for him, Weasel making polite small talk while trying to diffuse the outcrops of fighting that arose sporadically. Your boyfriend arrived back just in time to see a steaming pile of something resembling nachos placed in front of you.

“Well that looks worse than I do.” He cringed as he picked up a corn chip that was saggy with a brown sauce of undetermined origins. “I can already taste the Hep B.”

You pushed the bowl away and Wade caught it before your hand shot out again to toss it all over the bench. He could see you weren’t your usual self and he sat down, pulling you between his legs so he could wrap his arms around you and keep your arms tight to your side. You started to relax in his tight embrace, his strength able to keep your sudden muscle tics from hurting yourself even more and you looked up at him with a grateful smile. His own smile grew until your head jerked forward, the crunch of his nose breaking under the force of your forehead, and he groaned as he tipped his head back.

“How come they get to have all the fun?” Patch complained as he pointed to you. “I want to break his nose.”

“Fuck off, Patch.” You growled as you grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the blood running over Wade’s lips. “Bitch ass pussy.”

Your neck twisted painfully, again and again, before Wade forgot about his already healing nose and caught you. “It’s a bit much in here tonight, let's just pick up something on the way home.”

He pulled his hoodie up over his head before draping his arm over your shoulder and leading you out to the quieter streets not far from where you lived. You laughed as he started beatboxing, watching the few people who had been staring at you as you whistled and popped your lips turn their attention to his horrible sounds. He grinned as he heard your laugh, the bystanders already a distant memory thanks to him and his distractions.

“No one gets to outshine Wade-wikiwiki-Wilson.” He boasted as he pretended to scratch a vinyl until he spotted the local pizza joint still open. “Not even you. Pizza?”

You were almost at the point where you would eat anything, except Weasel’s nacho’s, but there was a crowd of drunk people filling the pizza parlour and you dreaded stepping inside. Wade felt his hand get tugged as he found you weren’t following and turned to see your wide eyes riddled with anxiety. It was a small space and you knew you would not hold in your tics long enough to have your order cooked, you knew you would once again be the centre of attention.

Dropping your hand, Wade pulled his hoodie over his head and bared his scarred face to the world. “Put this on, hun, I got you.”

You knew he didn’t like how he looked just like he knew how wearing his hoodie calmed you, this was his killing two birds with one stone - you were calm and they had something more intriguing to stare at. There were a few side glances when you ticked but most of their attention was firmly fixed on Wade as he ordered a Ham and Pineapple pizza for himself before ordering your usual.

You were exhausted as you stepped over the threshold and back into your own safe space, Wade following with the food and a bag of Epsom Salts from the 7/11 on the corner. You helped yourself to the pizza as you dropped onto the couch and listened to Wade singing to himself in the bathroom. You were starting to wonder what he was doing until he popped out and ate half of his pizza in under 60 seconds before darting back into the room.

Your neck was sore but your stomach was full and you were happy that at least one problem had been solved by leaving the house. You curled yourself deeper into Wade’s hoodie, tugging the strings so only a small ring of vision could be seen and his scent enveloped you. It was only when you saw his knees come into that peephole that you looked up, gasping at the sight of his ¾ sized penis regrowing before skipping straight to his face.

“Up, up.” He said as he pulled you to your feet, his hands already reaching for the hoodie and lifting it up your body. “You did so well coming out tonight but now it’s time for you to relax, have a nice hot bath, then daddy’s gonna massage you alllllll over.”

He left your clothes scattered all the way to the bathroom before climbing into the steaming water and promptly jumping back out. “Yup, that’s boiling. Ow, ow, should have checked that first.”

You couldn’t help laughing at his silliness as you ran the cold tap and checked the temperature, the floor getting wet as you splashed the surface at Wade. “Shit, sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” He soothed as he began to massage the tight muscles at the top of your back until you were moaning as he relieved the tension. “You’re so tight.”

“Stop it.” You chuckled as he moaned in your ear and whispered innuendo’s. “Bath’s ready.”

He kissed your neck softly before taking a seat in the hot water, spreading his legs so you could fill the space between. The water was perfect and you could smell the Epsom Salt in the steam, hoping it would absorb into your muscles and ease the remaining tension from them. Wade pulled you back against his chest and cradled your arm, seeing the blossoming bruise on your elbow, and he held it through the tics that twitched along it.

You looked over your shoulder as you felt the throes reaching your spine. “Can you hold me, please?”

He answered with a nod and a kiss to your forehead as he wrapped his arms over yours and around your waist, his legs around yours, the comfort like your own perfect swaddle. “Course I can, hun, anything you need.”

#wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #gn!reader #wade wilson imagine #deadpool imagine #deadpool fanfiction #tourettes!reader

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Eclipse

summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.4k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending

An eclipse finds its home in the darkness Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light In its passage she lays in wait Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning

Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.

The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.

Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.

“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”

“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.

“Then what?”

Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.

“I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.

A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.

He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.

***

Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.

Tap.

Still nothing.

You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.

He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.

“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”

Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.

Three minutes past check-in.

He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.

A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.

Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.

“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”

He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.

“Hi.”

You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”

“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.

“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.

Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.

“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.

“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”

It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.

“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.

“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”

Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.

“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”

“Where is ‘here’ again?”

You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”

The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.

“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”

He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.

“Always do, don’t I?”

You do. He knows this.

But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.

***

“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.

To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.

“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.

“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.

“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.

“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.

Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.

He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.

They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.

“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.

“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.

Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”

Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.

“End of the week... like I said.”

Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”

“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”

Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”

“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”

“You worried?”

Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”

“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.

“I’m dealing this round.”

Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.

“Nat? Are you--”

He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.

Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.

Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.

But that’s not the worst of it.

You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.

“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.

He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.

“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.

You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.

Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”

“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.

“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.

He knows what he needs to do.

“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.

“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”

Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”

“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.

"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.

Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.

“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”

You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.

“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”

He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.

You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.

That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.

“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.

The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.

“Sweetheart?”

You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.

He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.

There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.

“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.

“You let me know if you need a break.”

Still, there’s no response.

Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.

The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.

You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.

He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.

But he needs to get you out of this suit first.

He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.

He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.

“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”

It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.

It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.

“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.

The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.

There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.

Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.

“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”

You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.

When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.

Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.

Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”

You nod.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.

He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.

But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.

***

A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.

Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.

“What did you find?” Bucky asks.

Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.

“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.

“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”

“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.

“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”

Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.

He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.

Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”

“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.

“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.

“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands.

***

It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.

It’s the small steps.

He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.

So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.

When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.

Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.

Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.

Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.

“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.

“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”

Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.

Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction.

Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.

Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.

For that, Bucky owes him everything.

***

Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.

You’d killed them all.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.

“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”

“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.

“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.

“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.

He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.

You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.

“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”

Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.

Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.

Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.

“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow.

“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.

“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”

Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.

“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”

The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.

Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.

“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.

“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”

“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”

You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.

You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”

No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.

Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.

***

“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”

The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you.

Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly.

You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”

“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye.

Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you.

He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax.

He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze.

“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”

He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you.

He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again.

***

“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”

Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.

“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”

“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”

Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”

You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”

Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”

“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn

“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”

He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.

“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”

You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.

He thinks you may have finally found your way home.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n

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