#its in 10 days. and she forgot and now shes scrambling to figure out gift ideas thatll ship in time bc she doesnt have a car atm

[modernmutiny]

See, this is why I don't celebrate my birthday anymore.

[mieohmy]

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗋 | 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈

 original fic  → here (i recommend you read it first if you haven’t already to understand the story better!) 

PAIRING: CEO boss! jeon wonwoo x secretary! reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, humor, office au

WC: 3k 

update: final part can be found here !

❋

“Seungkwan that’s not it!!! I swear I looked through the whole desk, and I can’t find it.” You rub your face in frustration. 

It was an earring. Not that big of a deal since you weren’t really wearing it, but it was a gift from your father. So ....it was kind of a big deal. You may or may not have panicked for about 10 minutes before calling seungkwan over to help your search. 

“Did you drop it then? Maybe it’s on the ground or something,” seungkwan suggests. You both share a glance before dropping to the floor.

“I can’t believe we’re crawling on the ground like babies for an earring.” You huff from under your desk. “It’s a special earring. Please, just- ow!” Hissing in pain, you stumble out from under your desk where you just hit your head. 

Seungkwan looks over at you, unimpressed. “Now that’s funny.” “I just- Seungkwan, seriously?!” You scrunch your face in pain after gently touching your forehead. “Can you check if there’s a mark?” 

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath before making his way to you. He leans in over you, inspecting your forehead. 

“Where? Here?” he presses on a spot. “Ouch! You idiot, don’t press on it,” you say, slapping his hand away. He’s about to respond when you hear someone call your name. 

Turning, you spot wonwoo. “CEO Jeon!!” seungkwan blurts out, bowing hastily. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, standing there with a weird look on his face. You frown, is this deja vu or something? “Secretary y/n, what are you two doing?” The tone in his voice telling you he was clearly jealous. 

You had reassured him that you liked him and only him, but it was still funny endearing to you how jealous wonwoo could get. 

Fighting back a smile, you explain. “Wonwoo, we were just-“ 

“Wonwoo?!?!” seungkwan bursts out incredulously. “You call our CEO wonwoo now?” Cringing, you forgot how wonwoo insisted a million times for you to call him his regular name. You both decided on an agreement. Outside of work, you would call him his normal name but at the office, you firmly persisted in calling him formally, it just accidentally slipped out this time. 

You look at wonwoo, panicked, but he just shrugs and opens his mouth to speak. You being wilding gesturing behind seungkwan’s back to be quiet and mouthing don’t-! but it’s too late. “I guess you don’t know, Mr. Boo. Y/n and I are in a relationship.” 

Seungkwan lets out an incredulous gasp as you slap your face in defeat. He turns to you, and you prepare yourself, bracing. “You didn’t tell me ANYTHING?!?! This whole time I thought we were best friends, and you go and do this?!?” He inhales, about to go off again when wonwoo clears his throat. 

“Mr. Boo.” seungkwan freezes. “I’d rather you not blame y/n. We both decided to keep quiet for the sake of our jobs and us as well. You’d understand, right?” 

Seungkwan stiffly nods and bows, leaving but not before shooting you a dirty look that screams we’ll talk about this later.

You eventually explain everything to him, forcing him to keep it a secret that ended in you keeping seungkwan in a headlock until he promised. 

❋

It’s about a week after finally revealing the secret to seungkwan when you’re finishing up a document, the workday almost ending.

Once you finally close your laptop, a smile makes its way onto your face as you quickly pack up and make your way over to a familiar door.

Knocking, you push through the door, spotting him. Wonwoo gives you a small smile before looking back at his papers. You make your way over, resting your hands on his desk. “I’m about to go home. When are you leaving?” you say.

He furrows his eyebrows, looking outside. “You’re going now? In this weather?” Your eyes follow his out the window, rain pouring down outside. You didn’t even notice the weather.

“It’s ok,” you reassure. “I’ll just run quickly.” Wonwoo knew you didn’t have a vehicle and took the bus home. He offered to drive you every day, but sometimes he would stay at the office super late -plus, you didn’t want people noticing and saying more things. 

“Why don’t I just drive you home?” he suggests. You’re about to protest, but a crash of thunder causes you to jump slightly. wonwoo gives you that look. “Y/n, it’ll be way faster and more convenient for me to take you. And don’t worry, I’ll drive instead of my chauffeur. He can go home early.” 

You sigh reluctantly before nodding. “Alright, let me just get my stuff.” You walk out to your desk, gathering your stuff before you walk back into his office, looking sad and defeated.

Wonwoo can’t help but smile-he found you adorable. You slowly shuffle over to him. He takes your hand, asking, “what’s wrong?”

“I might’ve left my apartment keys at home..” You squeeze your eyes shut, stupid!! How could you leave your keys at home? What are you gonna do now?

“You can stay at my house. If, that’s okay with you?” You open your eyes, glancing at wonwoo in surprise. You bite your lip, contemplating. You really didn’t have a choice. 

“I-I have a spare room, and my maids can get clothes for you too..” he adds. “I guess, If it’s not too much of a bother..” you say hesitantly. Wonwoo grins, “Alright, Let’s go.”

It wasn’t your first time in a car with your boss, but it was the first time you saw him drive. You liked the sight a lot more than you would admit. 

❋

Arriving at his house, you’d seen the outside plenty of times when picking him up, but you were definitely more awestruck than you thought. It was different going to his house as his partner, not his secretary.

Once he parks, he gets out and opens your car door for you. You smile at the action. Strolling up the walkway, you spot a servant waiting at the entrance.

She bows to both of you, smiling and saying, “welcome home, Mr. jeon,” before turning to you. “You must be y/l/n y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says before winking.  You shoot wonwoo a surprised and confused look, and he returns it with a smile. 

“You think I wouldn’t at least brag about you to my servants?”

Entering his house, you’re in awe, eyes unable to focus on one thing. It was a lot cleaner and simpler than you thought, but still magnificent (plus a lot more kitten accessories than you ever could’ve imagined). His servants did a great job keeping the whole place clean. 

“What do you think? It’s your first time inside, isn’t it?” You nod, suddenly feeling more awkward as you realized you were staying overnight in a man’s house, specifically your boyfriend’s. 

He continues. “All the workers leave to go home at this time. I don’t like to keep them long. Except for one though, she’ll be assisting you before leaving.” You gulp, you’re gonna be alone in a house with jeon wonwoo? 

Wonwoo leads you to another worker, waiting outside a room that you figured was the one you were gonna be staying in. “She’ll help you get adjusted.  I’ll be going to my room-it’s just down the hall. If you need anything, call me. Well uh, goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight.. wonwoo.” He gives you one last smile before walking off, and the maid guides you into your room. 

It’s a nice guest room. Not too big or small. Plus, you had your own bathroom. The maid gives you a pile of clothes. “I hope these are fine., and everything else needed should be here.” You nod gratefully, “yes, thank you.” 

The maid walks to the door before stopping in front. You glance at her, confused.

“Mr. jeon... he always seemed so lonely living in this big house by himself, It’s nice to see him with someone, especially you who really knows him. Thank you for staying by his side for so long. There are not many who can. He always speaks so highly of you, I can tell you make him really happy.” 

You aren’t able to speak, just softly smiling and nodding, too full of emotion. 

You space out, thinking of wonwoo before remembering to get ready for bed. You enter the bathroom, it’s way better than yours at home nice.

You frown, there’s no towel. You remember all the workers left, so you have no choice but to ask wonwoo. Preparing yourself, you exhale before leaving your room. Walking through his nice hallway to his room, you notice his door is cracked. 

Softly pushing through, the door widens and you’re able to look around before spotting him coming from another room, presumably his bathroom. Except, he was naked. From the waist up. Thank goodness for that towel.

Let’s just say his body was a lot more toned than you thought. 

You inhale, staying frozen for a second before your body finally listens to you, and you scramble out, running back to the guest room. 

Shutting the door, you fall back against it, letting out a silent scream. AKFJGNE WHAT DID YOU JUST SEE?!?

You try to collect yourself, taking in a deep breath, but the image of him pops into your brain. and you crumple to the ground, face hot. 

I guess no washing up tonight...

You didn’t get much sleep that night. 

❋

Your eyes flit open. Squinting, you glance around. This isn’t your room... Ah, that’s right. You spent a night at wonwoo‘s house. 

Exhausted, you somehow manage to get ready before timidly and quietly exiting your room. Walking to the kitchen, you’re stopped by the view of a full table. 

And, wonwoo of course.“Uh, hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” you respond, taking in all the food. “I-I asked the servants to cook breakfast. I didn’t know they would make this much... How was your sleep?” wonwoo asks.

You awkwardly nod, “it was nice,“ trying extremely hard to stop a sudden oncoming yawn. “are you sure?” he asks, “you look really tired. Maybe you shouldn’t work today..” You protest. “No! It’s fine- I’m fine.” Your eyes meet his for a second, quickly averting down to your chair. 

You promptly sit down, shyly watching as wonwoo gets food for you- your favorites. 

You mutter thanks, refusing to look him in the eye as you drink your water.

“Are you okay y/n?? You look like you’re seeing me naked or something,” wonwoo jokes. 

You immediately choke, coughing and gasping as you almost drop the cup.

“Y/n!! Are you alright?” wonwoo helps you clean up. You nod, quickly excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

You splash water on your face, groaning. This is gonna be a long day.

He drives you to work, and you quickly go up before him. Once you get to your desk, Seungkwan and Dokyeom ambush you. 

“Why are you so late? We were getting pretty worried about you. Also, you look horrible.” seungkwan says. You rub your face, sighing as you mutter, “well, that’s what happens when you stay over at Jeon Wonwoo’s house...” Immediately you clamp your hand over your mouth. Curse exhaustion for you not being able to think straight and running your mouth. 

“You stayed at Boss’s house overnight?!” Dokyeom furrows his eyebrows in thought. “Wait, does that mean-“ 

You fly over to him, roughly slapping a hand over his mouth-er, face. Dokyeom shrieks from underneath you. “I swear to god- if you say anything- you’ll no longer have a home to go to,” you mutter into his ear. He gives you a tiny nod. 

Finally, you release him and shoot seungkwan a deathly look, dragging your thumb across your neck as a threat. He gulps, nodding hastily. 

You turn around, walking before stopping and calling out, “and no! Nothing happened!” You hear seungkwan and dokyeom mutter from behind you. 

Sighing, you brush yourself off and continue to the drink station-you needed energy-ignoring others giving you weird stares.

❋

Sometime that afternoon, wonwoo calls you into his office. “What is it?” “Sir?” you add. He only grins, “would you like to come with me to an opening party tonight? You’re free right?”

You nod slowly- you haven’t been to one in a while. Sometimes you would accompany wonwoo to events, dressing up nicely even though you were only there to stay at his side, like a pet. You actually didn’t particularly enjoy them- it was boring talking to random people and escaping strangers who acted a little too flirty for comfort. 

But after everything changed- your feelings, specifically, you kinda liked going with him. Wonwoo was still busy interacting with other guests, but he always made time for you and scared off other people.

“Alright, don’t forget to dress up nice,” he winks. You laugh, bowing. “Yes, sir.”

Surprisingly, you were able to control yourself- by that you meant your thoughts. You give credit to your lunch, it gave you energy, and you were able to focus better. 

Wonwoo allowed you to go home early and get ready, and you were also able to obtain spare keys to get into your apartment. 

Immediately once you opened the door, you flew to your closet, throwing out clothes. What were you gonna wear? No, you already wore that one before.  Ugh, that’s too old fashioned. 

Before when you used to go to events with wonwoo, you would complain while dressing up. It took you a long time to get ready since wonwoo would insult your look until you looked good enough to join him. It was strange, now, how you actually wanted to dress up and look all nice for him. 

Finally, you were ready. A honk outside alerts you. Grabbing your stuff, you quickly walk over to the car. Uncomfortably getting in, you try not to wrinkle your outfit. “You look amazing y/n,” the chauffeur says. You smile, “thank you. It took a while.” 

Once you’re almost to wonwoo’s house to pick him up, you quickly take out your phone camera, checking your appearance, smoothing your hair, confirming everything looks okay. You miss the chauffeur’s quiet laugh. 

When the driver stops in front, you prepare yourself. Exhaling, you walk out and up to his door, knocking. After a few seconds, a servant opens it. Wonwoo stands there, handsome as ever. “You look beautiful,” he breathes. Blushing, you respond, “you too.” 

“Me? Beautiful?” he asks.“Yep,” you respond, looping your arm through his. Wonwoo chuckles, the two of you walking down together. He opens the door for you, and you quickly remark, “what a gentleman..”, causing wonwoo to poke your side. 

Throughout the drive, you two chat along the way. “You know,” you muse, “I used to hate coming to these events. It took forever to get ready, and it wasn’t even fun to go to! I mostly agreed for the food. But..” 

“But what?” Wonwoo prompts. You look out the window, not catching his eye. “But ... now, I kinda like going, ...with you.” You fidget with your hands, a bashful smile on your face. 

The driver chuckles at the two of you, both too shy to look each other in the eye. You suddenly feel something warm move on top of your hand. Your eyes flick down, finding wonwoo‘s hand resting over yours. You smile, a comfortable silence between the two of you as the ride continues on.

“We’re pulling up,” the driver informs you. You brace yourself, preparing for the onslaught of bright flashes and putting on your camera face (even if they weren’t necessarily taking pictures of you).

“Are you ready, sir?” You ask, fingers hovering over the door handle. Wonwoo nods, and you open the door.

Immediately the familiar flashes blind you as you step out, patiently waiting for wonwoo. Once he gets out, you follow behind him, entering the venue.

It’s an extravagant bustling place, filled with other fancy guests. Wonwoo secretly squeezes your hand from behind, before letting go and you leave him to interact with other important people. 

You sigh, making your way over to where the food and drinks were. 

It feels like hours and hours pass of you avoiding speaking to random people before wonwoo finally approaches you, a sparkle in his eye. 

“Are you ready to leave?” You ask. He nods, grinning. “Yes, but I want to show you somewhere first.” You look at him questioningly as he guides you past all the commotion, out through a door.

You gasp. it’s an empty balcony overlooking the city. “How did you find this place?” You breathe. “Well, I wanted some fresh air and happened to find this place.” The two of you stand at the railing, staring over the edge at the beautiful city. 

“It’s so pretty at night,” you murmur. Wonwoo suddenly taps your shoulder. Turning, you watch as he fumbles with something in his pocket. No way, he isn’t gonna-?

Wonwoo finally gets it out with an aha! and you squint at what’s in his palm. It’s an..... earring?

Specifically, your earring! You look up at him in shock and delight. “Woo, how did you find this?” He blushes at your nickname for him. “Well, I might’ve asked seungkwan about it, and he told me what happened. It uh, took a little while to find, but I finally got the chance to give it to you.”

“Thank you. It was a gift from my dad,” you whisper. Leaning up, you press a quick kiss to his lips. “Now can we go?” 

He laughs, “yeah, we can go home now.” 

❋

You crashed into bed that night, immediately falling asleep. But what you didn’t expect was to be woken up by what seemed to be a bazillion phone notifications. Groaning, you reach for your phone, checking the time.

Then you see it. A bunch of texts from Seungkwan and your other close co-workers. As well as even more from people you didn’t even know. 

You launch yourself up in bed, clicking on a message sent from Seungkwan.

 Oh my god.

You’re screwed.   

❋

A/N: uhhh i didn’t plan on making this into three parts but it kinda got long... so here’s part two? :]  (also i apologize if there was anyone waiting for this- school just started for me so..🤮🤮)

[astarryon]

Hard Feelings 5

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warning: just, like, a fuckton of fluff

A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a bit rushed and I KNOW that but also, I was just really eager to get this one up for you guys because it sort of has a gift attached! You guys have been so wonderfully supportive of this story that I wanted to do something special, so there’s a surprise at the end of this chapter! Make sure you read it first, otherwise it’ll be slightly out of context. And I know it’s May and you’re all probably like, “Sev, why are you giving us a Christmas themed update?” The answer is that I love Christmas and also I’m extra, so take from that what you will. I love you all, I hope you enjoy!

Part 4

—

December 20th, 10:00 am: 5 days to Christmas

“It’s almost Christmas,” you began nonchalantly, ducking and throwing your body weight forward, jamming your shoulder into Bucky’s abdomen in an attempt to charge him. You didn’t manage to push him very far backwards, and you weren’t expecting to be able to either, but his feet did stumble back a step or two, and that was enough to restore some sense of confidence in yourself. You’d earned it, if the last hour of this training session was anything to go by.

“You’ve been saying that since Thanksgiving,” Bucky responded as he clamped his hands around your waist. “Do me a favor and stick this landing, I don’t need Steve bitching at me again for going too hard on you.” With that he flipped you backwards over his shoulder, and did it with so much ease that you may as well have been a bag of feathers. Though this was one of Bucky’s go to moves and something he had done several times in the past in previous training sessions, you were still unable to help the small scream which escaped you at the sudden feeling of careening through the air.

As hard as you tried, the ground came at you way too fast for you to land on your feet and you ended up clumsily falling forward, but you had enough momentum to roll onto your knees and get back up on your feet immediately, something else you were proud to accomplish. Last week you would’ve just completely wiped out, maybe hit your head a couple times along the way.

“That didn’t exactly work out,” you muttered. Taking a decisive step forward, you curled your hand into a fist and let it fly at Bucky’s jaw. He caught it effortlessly, twisting your arm behind your back and turning you around.

“I’ll take it,” Bucky reassures you. “Okay, now: assess the situation. You’ve got one arm left, and it’s not your dominant one. I’m bigger, I’m faster, and I’m stronger than you. You make a wrong move, you end up with a broken arm or worse. How are you getting out of this?”

You took the opportunity to catch your breath as you ran through possible scenarios, beads of sweat rolling down your body. Behind you, Bucky was essentially a space heater, his hand burning impossibly hot against your already flushed skin. Distantly, you wondered if higher body temperatures were a side effect of the super soldier serum. Steve would probably tell you later, if you asked. “If I drop and turn to my right?”

“You’d have more range of motion,” Bucky answered you, his breath fanning against your neck, “but I would have more of a chance to snap your wrist, which causes more problems for you.”

“And I can’t keep turning left.”

“Not unless you want a dislocated arm.” He paused a moment in thought, the grip he kept on your wrist comfortably firm, and then continued with, “Actually, don’t shy away from that completely. I’m not telling you to do this unless you absolutely have to, but you would be surprised at what you can get out of once your arm is dislocated.”

Not really something you were interested in experiencing, if you could help it, but you filed that bit of information away in your brain for later, as you tried to do with everything else Bucky advised.

“So I can’t go left, and I can’t go right without getting my arm broken,” you mused, biting your lip. Dropping to the ground would, once again, most likely end with you getting your arm ripped from its socket, but at least then you could effectively kick out Bucky’s legs. You were supposed to avoid last resorts, though, when you could. “Can I go up?”

“Do you have the upper body strength for a backflip with zero momentum?” Bucky questioned. You could practically feel the sarcastic raising of his brow. The thought to access his emotions and sense of superiority in order to find out what he thought you should do crossed your mind, but you wrote it off. In a real fight, you weren’t going to be able to rely on prolonged physical contact to solve your problems for you. “By all means, be my guest.”

Another dead end, then. Where were you supposed to go? Was it simply a matter of picking your poison? You virtually had no chance of coming out unscathed if you moved forward in any direction, which meant you were, for all intents and purposes—

If you can’t move forward, then move backward.

You weren’t sure where the thought had come from, but you heeded your conscience nonetheless. Swiftly bringing your left arm up, you thrust it backward and jammed it against Bucky’s throat, causing him to choke and release your arm in surprise. When you turned around to keep the fight going, you found that he was hunched over, scrambling for air and with both his hands at his throat. Panic, your own panic, bloomed in your chest, and you were pretty sure you heard laughter from the other side of the training room, though it wasn’t something you could focus on at the moment.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” you told him, covering your mouth with a hand. Despite the pride you felt in being able to catch Bucky off guard, you hadn’t been trying to break the guy’s windpipe. “I wasn’t thinking, I just... it was an accident! Jesus, Bucky, are you okay?”

“If that... was an...” Bucky’s words were horse in his throat, and it took him a few moments to get back to normal. There was still a quiet cough to his words when he started over. “If that was an accident, then you need to make more of them. That was really good.”

“But you’re okay?” you pressed, still feeling a bit guilty. An elbow to the throat was something you imagined hurt like a bitch, and not typically something you went around doing to your friends. Then again, you supposed it was something of an occupational hazard where Bucky was concerned, being your superior officer and all. And he’d been more than his fair share of mouthy this morning, so perhaps you didn’t need to feel as guilty.

“I’m fine,” Bucky answered you, strands of his hair falling forward to brush his chin from where he had messily secured it at the beginning of your session. That was annoying, but also impressive. Though he was clad in sweatpants and an old, loose shirt, and though he was currently presented in the least threatening way possible, Bucky still looked like he could have you dead in less than two seconds, if he so chose. Messy hair didn’t mean less imposing, apparently. “Don’t apologize for doing something right. I just... need a second, that’s all.”

“She manage to take you out already, Barnes?” Clint’s voice rang from across the room. He and Sam had been sparring just as you and Bucky had been, though their moves were more coordinated and fluid, given the fact that both of them were already experienced combat fighters. The words were playful, and the amusement rolling off Clint in waves was enough to reaffirm this. Sam’s emotions were much the same, but in a more subdued nature, and they seemed to be anticipating... something from Bucky, it felt like, but you weren’t sure what.

At your side, Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned down to pick up his water bottle, closing his eyes and taking a deep pull from it. You figured it best not to stare, lest he tease you about the fact that you found him attractive, as he seemed fond of doing. For some reason, since that day the two of you had made up several weeks ago and agreed to be something akin to friends, he had held onto that fact and ran with it every chance he got. It wasn’t that you necessarily minded; it just meant that your cheeks ran pink more often than you were used to.

Bucky had his own mildly playful energy about his aura when he cleared his throat, voice still slightly hoarse as he called back to Clint, “Kind of the goal, Barton. If you were her superior officer the most she’d be doing right now is target practice.”

“It’s a good skill to have,” Sam joined, narrowly dodging the kick Clint had aimed at his chest. “We can’t all be America’s most naturally gifted sniper.”

“World’s most naturally gifted sniper,” Bucky corrected with a smirk on his face. “Don’t undersell me, it’s rude.” Without waiting for another response from either man, Bucky turned back to you, light amusement still radiating out of him. You liked him like this; playful, humorous, if a little troublesome. “You should drink some water. Hydration is important.”

“Forgot my water bottle,” you said simply, shrugging a shoulder. That was something you had realized as soon as you had stepped onto the elevator to come down to the training room, but you hadn’t cared enough to go back for it. Bucky was getting better about his behavior with you, but he’d hand you your own ass if you were late to training. It wasn’t a malicious thing, so much as a superior officer sort of thing. “I’ll just drink some later.”

With another roll of the eyes, Bucky wordlessly thrust his arm forward and deposited his water bottle into your hands, a silent encouragement. Although hesitant, you raised the bottle to your lips and drank. He would only tell you to stop being dumb if you protested or questioned the kind gesture.

Though you weren’t complaining, the last few weeks had been a complete 180 on Bucky’s part, and you still weren’t entirely accustomed to his new behavior where you were concerned. Gone was the iciness you had come to expect over that first month, along with the constant irritation and aggravation which had been present in Bucky’s emotional register each time he had so much as looked at you. These prejudices had drained away over the course of a couple days, and in their places Bucky had developed empathy, a desire to establish companionship, and generalized care. These were things you had felt before from other people and which seemed common between friends in general, but all of it seemed to be more intense when it came from Bucky. Or, perhaps ‘genuine’ was slightly more accurate of a description. Either way, the fact that the emotions typical of friendship felt so strong when coming from Bucky was because they weren’t emotions he expressed with very many people, and that fact wasn’t lost on you.

Trust, specifically Bucky’s trust, was a hard earned thing. In all likeliness, the amount of people he truly and deeply trusted could be easily counted on both hands; you weren’t sure if that made you more proud or sad.

“It’s almost Christmas,” you stated again, kneeling to place Bucky’s water bottle back on the floor. You hoped you didn’t sound too sheepish; he would get suspicious and shoot you down before you even managed to get to the point of asking him what you needed to.

“So you’ve said,” Buck retorted. “You sound like a broken fucking record.”

“Because I’m excited,” you told him. “Haven’t you ever been excited about something before?”

“I’m human, Y/n, not a robot.���

“Could’ve fooled me,” you quipped. The two of you were something closer to friends now but the teasing and light bitching had never actually ceased, and you sort of preferred it that way. It would have been way too weird if Bucky had switched from menacing hostility to complete saccharine tenderness. “Have you done your shopping yet?”

A scoff escaped him. “I don’t do Christmas gifts,” he told you matter of factly. “I don’t give them and I don’t get them. Kind of a waste of time.”

Somehow, that explained a lot.

“What, you and Steve don’t even get each other presents?” you questioned in disbelief. No Christmas gifts at all? Seriously? If you’d been the one ripped away from your humanity decade after decade, you would’ve found every excuse to celebrate any and every holiday possible.

“I’m not really a sentimental person.” Pretentious reasoning, even for Bucky Barnes. You figured the guy might have his hang ups about the holiday season, but to just not actively engage in any festivities? Not even with his closest friends? Was that not the slightest bit dreary? “Any particular reason you keep mentioning Christmas?”

Well, yeah, but now you weren’t sure you even wanted to bother. You’d figured you had at least a sixty percent chance in convincing Bucky to agree to what you were about to suggest, but his lack of sentimentality probably dropped it to about forty. You were just lucky he was in a good mood; anything else would’ve dropped you down to twenty five.

Fuck it. Worth a shot, right? Christmas miracles happened on occasion, after all.

“Yeah, well, you see,” you began, trying your best to maintain a nonchalant air. “I haven’t gotten around to doing my shopping yet.”

“Okay?” Bucky prompted.

“Uh, mostly because I’m like, locked up in this fucking tower.”

“And... what does that have to do with me...?”

“Just that, um, I could leave the tower if it was beneficial to your mental health and our therapy sessions.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, suspicion lacing his expression. He was catching on, but hadn’t yet managed to put the entire picture together. “So?”

You bit your lip, then decided just to go for it. Worst Bucky could do was say no, right? “So I was wondering, if it was okay with you, if maybe we did the therapy session in the car on the way to the mall?” The unimpressed look he level you with made your embarrassment spike, and you were thankful Bucky had no way of discerning that. Or, maybe he did, but right now you had the luxury of pretending. “Come on, please? This is the last chance I have to take care of it, and it’s really important to me that I get it done.”

Bucky blinked once, then twice. Inhaled a couple times. Then, just as you thought you were going to have to repeat yourself, he spoke. “Just so I’m clear,” he said, amusement and disbelief staining his words. “You want to exchange my mental health for the chance to go Christmas shopping?”

That was... certainly one way of putting it.

“I think that’s an overgeneralization,” you tried, “but you technically? Aren’t wrong?”

There was a smirk on his face that you found more annoying than anything. “You realize that kind of makes you capitalism’s bitch, right?”

Oh, for crying out loud.

“Look, is that a yes or a no? I’m kind of on a time crunch, and if you don’t wanna help me get out of here then I’ll just do it all online, but I really wanna get some stuff for everyone. It’s bad enough I’m not gonna be able to give my family their presents in person, the least I can do is make sure all your guys’ presents are here and ready.”

And you meant it, too. You’d fought tooth and nail to get Fury to approve you leaving the tower so you could visit your family for Christmas, spend time with your siblings and parents and cousins. They lived further upstate, only a few hours away, and you had made it explicitly clear that you could be there and back in two day’s time. However, Fury had effectively shut that idea down, stating that your work was in the tower, with Bucky. You didn’t necessarily mind, but the whole thing was just annoying; you hadn’t realized that a pending promotion meant you were the prisoner of Avengers Tower.

Blue eyes pinned you in place, wandering up and down your body. If you didn’t know any better you would say Bucky was checking you out; then again, you still weren’t totally sure he wasn’t. The man would do anything to make you uncomfortable. “Know what?” he asked, crossing his arms and offering you a tiny smile. “I’m feeling charitable and I’m in the mood to laugh, so I’ll make you a deal. If you can pin Clint to the mat, I’ll take you Christmas shopping. Hell, I probably won’t even bitch about it too much, either.”

At this, you perked up, unsure whether you’d heard him right but excited all the same. “That’s all I have to do?” Bucky had definitely shown you enough over the past few weeks to be able to pin someone down, even someone more skilled than you. It wasn’t about capability at that point, just evasion and certain offensive tactics; between the knowledge and your will to do something nice for everyone in this tower, you were practically determined to knock Clint on his ass so fast he wouldn’t even know what hit him. “You’re being serious?

“That’s all you have to do,” Bucky reaffirmed, “I’m being serious.” He redirected his gaze across the room, and you followed suit as he called out, “Hey bird brain!” It was all you could do to stifle your laughter when both Sam and Clint looked up at the same time.

“Which flavor were you wanting?” Sam called back. That, you outright laughed at; Sam was such a goofball by nature, and you couldn’t believe half the stuff that came out of his mouth.

“Barton,” Bucky clarified, chuckling quietly under his breath. Though Bucky had clarified, both Sam and Clint jogged over, clearing the training mats in record time. “I need your help with a demonstration for Y/n. Spar with her, will you?”

Clint’s following guffaw was just as funny as he apparently found Bucky’s request. The archer settled his hands at his hips, tilting his head up in what felt like humorous self importance. You tried not to giggle at the fact that Clint had to look up because he was a full head shorter than Bucky. “What, something the great and powerful Barnes can’t do himself?”

“Just get into stance,” Bucky told him simply. “You’re sparring to pin.”

“Are there any rules?” you questioned, not really sure who you were directing your question at. Your fingers were twitching down at your sides, anticipating the coming exercise. The sooner you got this done, the sooner you could get your Christmas shopping done, which meant you’d be able to relax a little more for the rest of the week, until Christmas Eve and Day finally rolled around.

“Only rule on the mats,” Clint answered you, raising his fists, “is that there are no rules!” He didn’t wait for you to respond or take up your stance before letting his fist fly at your chest, hitting you dead center and knocking you backward, right into your ass. Your breath was violently expelled from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“What the fuck, Barton?” Bucky demanded, throwing a disapproving arm out to his side. Alarm poured forth from him, melding in with the overall mood of the room. Sam, beside him, was quietly stifling his laughter, his shock mixing with his amusement to form a sweet tang of feeling. “I said spar her, not brutalize her.”

Quietly, you picked yourself up off the ground as Clint turned to defend himself, carefully stepping forward so as not to draw his attention. Stealth had been the second lesson Bucky had taught you. If Clint wanted to play dirty, you could play right back. Waiting until you were in his peripheral, you took a step forward, then another, concentrating at laying your feet down without making a sound. Clint was saying something to Bucky in his own defense, but you were too focused to hear the words. You just needed an opening...

Bingo. Clint’s back was now completely to you, affording you the chance to charge forward and direct a swift kick to the back of his knee. He was caught off guard and off balance, something which worked to your advantage. That was something Bucky had drilled into you over the last weeks; anything, no matter what it was, had the potential to be an advantage. You just had to group small, specific ones together in order to obtain a guaranteed larger one. Clint assuming that you wouldn’t dare come at him while his back was turned or before you were fully recovered were advantages for you. As swiftly as you could, you pressed your hand against Clint’s neck and pumped as much lethargic energy into him as was manageable. Bucky would have wanted you to go the more physical route, but you were on a time crunch, and Clint had said so himself: there were no rules.

“Uh...?” The words were lost in Clint’s throat as he was overpowered by the sheer amount of drowsiness and fatigue you were draining into him, and he crashed to the floor, face sinking into the mat.

The whole thing had been done and over with in about twenty seconds’ time.

“Not what I had in mind,” Bucky remarked, blinking in shock, “but I guess I’ll take it.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” you told him, throwing a chipper smile his way. “I’m gonna go shower and get dressed, be ready in an hour.” You paused, giving one last look to Clint, smiling slightly to yourself. You’d pick him up an extra gift, as a way to say sorry. “Sam, if Clint doesn’t wake up in the next few minutes you should pour water over him. Usually does the trick.” With that, you stepped around your friend’s sleeping form and walked around your other companions, already heading for the exit to the training room.

Just as you boarded the elevator, you heard Sam let out a low whistle before asking, “Weren’t you just talking to me the other day about how you were worried she wouldn’t have enough drive in a fight? What did you do?”

The doors to the elevator promptly slid closed, but not before Bucky muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, “Sold my soul to corporate America.”

—

“So tell me,” you began, glancing at Bucky as he directed his gaze out of the car windshield to take in the passing city streets as he drove. You wished he had picked one of the less auspicious vehicles in Tony’s garage, but you declined to make a fuss about it, and had simply opted to shake your head as you climbed into the passenger seat of the sleek, black SUV. Bucky had been mercifully prompt in getting ready for your impromptu outing, and had changed into dark jeans, a blue sweater, and a black winter coat. The contrast of the colors against his pale skin accentuated his eyes, making the blue of them appear brighter than normal. If you weren’t busy speaking, you might have rolled your eyes and groaned at yourself, because of course that was what you would take note of in this instance. “How have your dreams been?”

Instead of answering you, Bucky sighed through his nose and glanced at you briefly before making a left turn. “Thought we agreed to skip therapy today.”

You shook your head, figuring you should have expected something like this. “Not the conversation I remember having,” you told him. “I’m pretty sure the deal was that we did therapy in the car on the way to the mall?”

“Well, maybe we should skip therapy for today,” he pressed. You would need to be cautious, if his emotions were anything to go off of; he’d slipped from quiet content to uncertain anxiety in a matter of moments, and Bucky’s anxiety was the sort which was usually accompanied by irritation and frustration, something you had to learn the hard way. “Wouldn’t want to put a damper on all that holiday cheer you’ve got going on.”

This was liable to go really wrong really fast, and on the list of things you needed today, Bucky blowing the fuck up on you once again wasn’t exactly one of them.

“Bucky,” you tried once again, “we have to stick to a schedule, okay? No offense but you aren’t really a forthcoming person when it comes to stuff like this, and if we don’t figure out—”

“It was bad, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Well, you’d been hoping for something a little more positive, but the fact that he was even commenting at all was enough for you. “I couldn’t… I went to sleep, I had a nightmare, and I couldn’t get back to sleep for the rest of the night.”

That one stung a bit, and your mind took it upon itself to conjure up an image of Bucky alone in his room, awake in the darkness and miserable. You’d felt everything that troubled him while he slept for that first month, each night when you’d taken it upon yourself to personally correct his faulty dreams. So much pain had crept through your veins, so much agony and desperation, and you had cried yourself to sleep on Bucky’s behalf almost every night, having been wholly and completely unsure of what to do with your excessive empathy. Bucky had effectively put a stop to that as soon as Wanda had incidentally alerted him to your late night past time, and had even made you promise not to have Jarvis alert you to when he was going into another fit. Unfortunately for him, the nightmares didn’t necessarily fall under the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ category, and you had made it a point to have him discuss his dreams at the beginning of each makeshift therapy session you held. If he just swallowed his pride and let you help him he wouldn’t have problems anymore, but his mind had been fully and permanently made up.

Part of you wanted to press the matter, but you knew better than that. Bucky on his own was generally intimidating, but you didn’t need the development of a foul mood prompting him to scowl at other shoppers once you got to your destination.

Just this once, for his sake… you guessed you could let it slide.

“Okay,” you murmured, “we can skip therapy today. Have you… just, really quick, have you tried any of those tactics I’ve given you to try and get the nightmares to go away?”

“What, you mean listening to music with my eyes closed?” he scoffed. “No. The music these days is depressing and the radio’s shit.”

You tried not to take too great an offense to that, considering music was what you had spent four years of your life majoring in before jumping ship and deciding you wanted to be a secret agent, but you also wanted to laugh. Sometimes Bucky just sounded like such an old man.

“You realize that we live in this awesome age of technology, and that literally all those songs from the forties are on the internet, right? And that you could download them onto your phone and set up a playlist?”

“Don’t know how, don’t have time to learn. Too busy training SHIELD’s greatest and all.” He craned his head over his shoulder, checking his blindspot, then swiftly redirecting the car into the rightmost lane. You were wise to his motive of changing the subject when he asked, just a few moments later, “So, why would you be giving everyone in the tower their gifts on Christmas and not visiting your family instead? Don’t you think that’s a little backwards?” Yeah, it was just a means of changing the subject, but it was a subject you were still subconsciously fired up about.

“Because Director Fury apparently thinks that my current assignment overrides the fact that I have a family.” That had been a fun phone conversation, if ‘fun’ was defined as torturous and laborious. You’d been hoping to request time off, not thinking it would be much of an issue. Yes, your family lived upstate, but it was only by a few hours, and it wouldn’t take long to travel there and back at all. Fury had patiently listened to all of this to simply offer you a ‘no’ and had proceeded to hang up the phone, prick that he was. “So I guess I’m sticking it out at the tower this year.”

Bucky pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center, driving just a tad bit too fast for comfort in the way of the safety of pedestrians. “That’s dumb,” he told you, effortlessly sliding the car into a parking spot. “You’re the only person in the tower with an actual family. You shouldn’t be stuck here just ‘cause everything in my head is all fucked up. Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Not your fault,” you told him. Self blame was another thing Bucky seemed prone to, and in this case it was more than unwarranted. The only person responsible for Nicky Fury being an asshole was, well, Nick Fury. And you could get over it, and you would eventually, but… damn, had you been excited at the idea of getting out of the tower for more than an afternoon. It had been much longer than you would have liked since you had seen your parents, your siblings, your friends, and the holiday season was making you incredibly nostalgic and homesick. “Anyways, there’s always next year, right? No sense in pitching a fit.”

Bucky eyed you from where he sat, an incredulous expression on his face and disbelief tinging his actions. “Sometimes I think you could benefit from pitching a fit. You let people get away with too much.”

You rolled your eyes, opening the door to the car and making to get out. “The only person I let slide with anything is you, Mister ‘I don’t need life advice from a glorified mood ring.’”

“‘Fucking mood ring’, if I remember correctly,” he laughed.

“Whatever,” you laughed back, crossing your arms over your chest and attempting not to look to pitiful. You had underestimated the severity of the cold weather when you’d gazed out the window of your room, and had opted for a lighter, cuter sweater as opposed to the warmer, more practical one. “Let’s get inside and find some presents, okay? You’re gonna have to help me pick stuff out.”

Bucky watched you a moment, taking in your shivering form and your crossed arms, but ultimately said nothing about it. “You kidding me?” he sarcastically shot your way. “Picking out shit for Stark and Romanov is what I live for. Bring on the retail hell.”

—

December 23rd, 7:05 am: 2 days to Christmas

“Director Fury?”

“I’m busy, Agent Martin.”

“Uh, yes, sir, sorry, it’s just…”

“Yes, Agent Martin?”

“You’ve received an email from, um, from Sergeant Barnes? It’s marked red alert?”

“And what did it say?”

“I’m not sure, sir. It’s marked confidential and requires your personal authentication code for viewing.”

Jesus Christ. What had Barnes done to that poor girl?

“I’ll review it. Thank you, Agent Martin.”

Once the agent was gone, Fury signed on to his computer and opened the email. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he was praying to any god listening that he wasn’t going to have to contact your family two days before Christmas and have to explain whatever god awful bodily injury the Winter Soldier had inflicted upon you that had to be so bad that it warranted a red alert email.

—

December 25th, 8:42 am: Christmas Morning

“You’re sure he’ll like it?” you whispered to Steve, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stifling a yawn as you clutched one very specific present to your chest. You had a number of silver wrapped packages at your feet, but the one in your hands was especially delicate and not something you were willing to risk setting down on the floor. The other packages could be repurchased; this one that you were cradling in your arms had taken you days to make.

Steve shook his head in mild exasperation and fixed you with as reassuring a look as he could muster. “He’ll love it, Y/n. He doesn’t like gifts, but I know he’ll like that one.”

“He better,” you muttered, “I lost sleep to finish this, you know.”

Finding presents for everyone in the tower had been relatively easy. An industrial coffee pot for Clint to replace his old one, an extensive collection of art tools and paints for Steve, a new set of throwing knives for Natasha, dresses and books for Wanda, and so on for all the others. Amazingly enough, Bucky had actually been helpful in selecting gifts for everyone in the tower aside from himself, and would clam up as soon as you even attempted to ask what you might like. Thankfully enough, the idea for Bucky’s gift had sprung up during your car ride to the mall, so his evasion tactics were rendered useless regardless. You thought it was a good one, and Steve had reassured you multiple times over the last five days that Bucky would love it, but you just couldn’t escape the worry.

You sipped hot chocolate from the mug Sam had offered you upon reaching the communal living room, watching the twinkling lights of the massive Christmas tree glance off all the walls and windows as everyone else slowly trickled into the room. Snow had begun to fall outside about twenty minutes ago, and by the time Bucky, the last person to make it into the room had showed up, it had grown to be about three inches thick. Beautiful, but not enough to calm your growing excitement.

God, you loved Christmas.

“All right,” Sam began once everyone was present and situated. He was wearing gym shorts and a loud Christmas sweater, his head covered with a fuzzy red santa hat. “Same as always for gift opening? Youngest to oldest?”

“That means Y/n’s first!” Wanda excitedly announced, leaning forward from where she sat on the floor and thrusting a golden package into your hand. “Open up!”

Doing as you were told, you carefully unwrapped the package, revealing the small box hidden behind the paper. Opening that, you were greeted with the sight of a delicate silver chain bracelet, studded with multiple ruby red and silver stones. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and you didn’t hesitate in voicing this out loud.

“Oh my god, Wanda, thank you!” You leaned down to wrap an arm around her in as much a hug as you could manage. The dark haired girl’s cheery spirit was beamed into you as soon as you touched and mixed with your own, making you just about the happiest and most excited person in the room.

This only kept up as you continued around the room, working your way through everyone’s ages until Steve had opened Sam’s gift, a set of novelty Captain America items. Once he had thanked his friend and finished laughing, he looked at you expectantly, gesturing with his head to the right. Time to give Bucky his gift.

“I told you not to do this,” Bucky began, shaking his head in amusement but extending a hand to accept the flat, thin package you offered.

“I was under the impression that James wasn’t fond of merriment?” The confusion in Thor’s question was innocent enough, but it made you laugh harder than you thought it would. “Was I…? Was that incorrect?”

“Holy shit,” Tony let out, “Scrooge got a gift! How about that?” The way everyone was reacting made it clear that Bucky really wasn’t a holiday kind of person. No matter; you were enough of one for the both of you. “Go on and open it!”

Bucky wordlessly did as he was told, carefully peeling the paper away to reveal the record cover concealing the vinyl. Written on the cover, in very carefully placed script, were the simple words ‘Merry Christmas Bucky’. Confusion lacing his emotions, he looked up to you, blue eyes pinning you in place, and asked, “What’s this?”

It took you a moment to register. “It’s, um, it’s a record,” you explained, cheeks turning pink against your will. Seriously? Now? “I remember you were bitching about how you don’t like modern music, so I took some songs that I really like and I… recorded them so that they would sound a little more like old music? It’s not exact or anything, but I did all the instruments and vocals myself, and Steve Bruce had some weird high tech way of speeding up the vinyl pressing process by like, a million percent. I figured, you know, since you won’t let me help you with your dreams, you could… I could at least try to sing you to sleep?”

“Holy shit,” you heard Clint whisper, presumably to Natasha, “she made Barnes a mixtape.”

There was awed silence as Bucky took in your words, staring down at your gift in his hands. He seemed to be processing, trying to understand what he was holding and how it made him feel. At least, that was what your limited knowledge of his emotions was telling you.

“Thank you,” he eventually murmured, grasping your hand a moment before letting it go. It wasn’t much, but it told you everything you needed to know. He was touched; he loved it.

Your mood only further improved as you all continued to wind your ways around the gifting circle, and you were on the last round after an hour and multiple gifts. You said thank you each and every time you were presented with a new gift, deeply touched that they would all think of you and care enough to buy you a gift. You were happy to give gifts and never expected much in the way of a return, but the team in Avengers Tower seemed to be just as enthusiastic about Christmas as you were.

It was on the last go around, after Steve had opened and thanked you for your gift of acrylic paints and brushes, that you were truly left breathless.

“I have a present for Y/n,” Bucky stated just as everyone had made to begin cleaning up.

“You what?”  you asked, not sure you had heard correctly.

“What the fuck is going on this year?” Clint wondered allowed. Natasha promptly nudged his arm in warning.

Bucky shrugged a shoulder, standing to walk towards you and setting an envelope with a red bow attached into your hands. “It’s not much,” he told you. “Like I said, I don’t do gifts, but.. I figured, this was something I could at least help with.”

Curious, you looked down at the envelope and read the looping script written upon it. Because next year isn’t quite the same thing, is it? Carefully tearing it open you found a single sheet of folded paper within, and what you found there made your heart soar and swell even more than you ever would have thought possible.

—

To: njfury@shield.intel

From: jamesbarnes@shield.intel

Subject: Courtesy Notice

To Director Fury,

I am writing this letter to alert you to the fact that my assigned field agent in training, Miss Y/n Y/l/n, shall be taking a leave of absence from Avengers Tower, per my instruction, for an amount of time totaling five days beginning December 26th and ending the afternoon of December 31st. This is nonnegotiable. If I find there is any form of interference from your end, I will override it any way I know how. If she is denied transportation, I will escort her upstate personally. If her status as agent in training is terminated as a result, I will reinstate her as my personal therapist. Should you find that you have some form of personal objection to this noticed or any of the information I have relayed within it, I kindly invite you to go fuck yourself in as professional a manner as possible.

A happy holiday to you,

James Buchanan Barnes

—

From: njfury@shield.intel

RE: Courtesy Notice

Mr. Barnes,

Understood.

Nicholas J. Fury

—

Your heart was light, and your breathing was funny. Looking up at Bucky, seeing his genuine and happy smile, you blinked, unsure of what to make of it all. “Wait, you…? What did you…?”

“You better get to packing,” he told you, chuckling a bit at your speechless reaction. “You leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god,” you cried, a couple tears actually escaping your eyes and running down your cheeks. Overcome with emotion, you surged forward, threw your arms around him, and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheeks, surprising him, yourself, and everyone watching. You were normally so much better about personal space when it came to him, especially because of your powers, but you didn’t care, not right now. You were far too happy to have common sense. You were gonna see your family; you were gonna get to go home. “Thank you, Bucky, thank you!”

You couldn’t see it, but above you, as he gingerly and hesitantly held you to his chest, Bucky was leveling all of the other residents of the tower with a steely gaze, daring them to make a comment on the fact that he was currently being embraced and cried over publicly. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, absentmindedly patting your shoulder.

You didn’t have to use your power to know that he meant it wholeheartedly.

—

As promised, your surprise: Here’s the playlist/record the reader made Bucky for Christmas

Part 6

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