#*draws 14 arrows pointing to blade's left calf*

[fisheito]

i love how eiden pauses at every outfit reveal with a . hotboy synopsis like clan member: *steps out of the changing room* eiden: and now, if i can have ur attention--- FEAST your eyes on this MARVELOUS hunk of grade AAAAAA+++++ prime meat..,, his accessories perfectly accentuate his finest features...! His fit ! is flawless!! BREATHTAKING. REVOLUTIONARY!!!!!!!!! and yet!? one can't help but get excited... for what lies UNDERNEATH that BREATHTAKING attire ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )

[soldierwinterthe]

bounty on my head

Summary: After killing the son of a notorious crime boss, the latter puts a price on your head. While you are alone, around the city, some men try to kill you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: a lot of violent scenes, and a lot of blood

A/N’s Note: I admit it, I was inspired by the film 'John Wick', with Keanu Reeves. I LOVE that movie, literally!

Feedback is always appreciated.

If I had known that after killing that son of a bitch, his stupid father would have put a price on my head...no, the son of a bitch would still have died at my hands. He was a known criminal and a murderer, and my job was to eliminate him.

Except that, now, all the assassins in the world when they see me, they try to kill me; up to fifteen million dollars up for grabs. When I found out, I thought I'd kill me alone; they are a lot of money, few people have had these kind of bounties.

Anyway, if I had to be careful first, now I have to watch my back every five minutes.

Every person who comes close to me, sitting next, or ask me a information... it could be a killer ready to kill and to collect its reward.

Then, I'm not that type of person who hides in a bunker, and waits that things pass, and that people forget.

People will never forget – especially when it comes to money. Today, tomorrow, or in ten years, I will always have the size on my head, and someone who wants me dead.

Unless... the only way to make the size disappear, is to delete it. And only the man who requested it can do it. But the problem is that I don't know where he is. Mr. Letun is very good at hiding.

The sound of my phone shakes me slightly; even before I pick up the phone and see who's calling, I already know who it is.

Barnes.

Bucky worries too much; yes, I am his girlfriend, and he loves me, but he also knows that I'm an expert killer in hand-to-hand combat, ranged combat and firearms. Not to brag, but I could kill my enemies, and in the meantime do the manicure.

"Hello?"

"Y/n, are you okay? Where are you?"

I roll my eyes; from his tone of voice, I realize that Bucky is more worried than usual. I know he does it because he's really scared that something bad happens to me, but sometimes I feel like he doesn't trust me.

"Yes, Bucky. I'm fine."

In the meantime, I go into a bar. Bucky kept me locked up at the base for almost a month; he even asked Tony not to send me on a mission. Saving people is the only thing I can do, and I can do it very well; instead, Bucky wants to keep me segregated.

So, I decided to do it my way; while he is on a mission with the others, I got up from the couch, I turned off the TV – now I saw all the programs on Netflix – and after taking a shower, I went out. I didn't want to go to a specific place, I just needed to breathe, and know that I am a free person.

The problem is... my boyfriend. I was convinced that he would be back in two days, but – of course – he had to come back early on the exact day I left.

Even before entering the bar to have a drink and enjoy the evening, the phone rings, and it's him. But his call doesn't intimidate me, I will not go home until I have had at least a couple of glasses of whiskey.

"Y/n, where are you? I am coming to pick you up."

"Bucky, I don't need it. I'm perfectly safe; I'll be back home in an hour."

Before my boyfriend can reply something, I hang up the call, putting the phone back in its place.

Bucky will not ruin my evening; when I come home, will he be angry with me? Damn, yes. But I don't care; he must understand that I can protect myself.

About half an hour later, and a bottle of borboun almost finished, I pay the bill, and I get out of the bar.

It's dark outside, the moon is not visible in the sky, and the street lamps don't seem to want to work tonight; just the night I go out. It's not a coincidence at all.

I walk towards the park – it's the fastest way back home, and at this time, even the least crowded. In the meantime, I start counting the killers around me.

Two boys kissing on a bench; a woman with a clearly empty stroller; a man who walks the dog; a group of boys chatting and joking among themselves, in the middle of the park. Three other men, dressed as garbage collectors, who collect the papers that they themselves have probably thrown to the ground.

In all, I count sixteen people in the park, and they're all serial killers. I remain calm, trying not to show any emotion; in fact, I'm not scared. I should have, but the killers are trained for this.

And then, I feel safer with my two Glock hidden under the skirt, the butterfly knife in the right boot and the knife in the left one.

I'm going out always armed – the danger fills the streets of New York more than I wanted – but I thought it was a good idea to bring some extra weapon.

I went out with the knowledge that they would follow me; to be honest, I feel rather offended by the fact that there are only a few people.

I pass the center of the park, and, exactly after 257 meters, one of the garbage collectors emerges from behind a tree, with a crossbow in his hands; he shoots an arrow, and I can avoid it by a whisker. I run towards him, and I can put him k.o. with one shot. They must have sent the weakest first, because if they all fight like the guy lying at my feet... it will be easier than expected.

Someone is behind me; I turn around, meanwhile I pull out one of my guns.

She's the woman with the stroller, and it's closer than I expected.

The bullet hits the woman right in the head, but not before her knife jabs into my right shoulder; make sure the woman is dead – the pool of blood in which I find her is a tangible proof – I pull out the knife from my shoulder with a sharp blow; pulling it away slowly would only cause more pain.

Despite everything, the wound is not very deep, and moreover, I have already eliminated two killers; only 14 are missing.

After the first two, the others go to the strong manners; the two garbage collectors still run towards me, firing me with machine guns. I hide immediately behind some bushes, but one of them strikes me; now I have a bullet stuck in my right calf. It seems that the right side of my body is the most painful one. From under my skirt, I pull out the other Glock; holding the two guns in my hands, I go out of my hiding place, and I shoot.

At first almost blindly, but when I recognize the shadows of the two men, I shoot a couple of shots, and they fall to the ground.

Fortunately, the park at this time is completely empty, and my weapons have a silencer. At this time, so many shots would attract dozens of people, and the police would soon arrive.

I walk quickly towards the exit of the park, and it seems that I manage to get out of there unharmed... or almost.

I walk in isolated streets – I know perfectly well that others are still following me, and I don't want to endanger innocent people – but the leg begins to limp. As much as I can withstand the pain, I have to hurry up.

Just round the corner, in front of me there are the two guys who were sitting on the bench and the man who took the dog for a walk; the two guys run towards me without weapons. We begin to fight, and between fists, kicks and martial arts moves, I can also put them k.o.

The man with the dog is still in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back; he walks slowly toward me, and showing me his hands, I notice an ax. Seriously? I bet that when he doesn't kill people, this guy uses the ax to break the wood. Anyway, this guy doesn't seem too good either.

The ax leaves me some superficial wounds on my arms, but finally, I stick the weapon on the man's head.

I'm covered in blood – and it's so much that I can't figure out what mine is, and which ones I killed – the leg is now losing sensitivity, and the shoulder wound... no, that has fortunately lost little blood, and what's left around the wound is starting to get dry.

Only the group of boys is missing; eleven people, and I can go back to the base, where a doctor and a lot of morphine are waiting for me.

Less than a mile from my point of arrival, the boys show up; one next to the other, like 'Pussycat Dolls', each of them has a gun in their hand. They start shooting me, I hide behind a car; these don't have silencers, and every shot echoes in my ears.

However, I prepare myself for the counterattack; while they continue to shoot me, I count the bullets I have: 8. Too few to kill them all, but enough to kill eight.

I tear the mirror up close to the car, and help me with it to see where exactly each of the killers are; they are divided, but I can still see them all.

I start shooting: a couple of them behind a car, one behind a phone booth. I can eliminate six, while two bullets missing the target.

Fuck.

I'm out of ammo, and I remain only with the knives; now that I think, I should take the crossbow of the garbage man. I would have made sparks with that.

Suddenly, silence; no noise, no gunshot. They too have no more bullets. I pull out my two knives, and, coming out of my hiding place, I throw the butterfly knife towards the boy near the Chinese restaurant; I hit him, and he falls to the ground.

Four boys remain. They all come towards me, with sharp knives; they hit me in the back, in the stomach. With my knife, I cut the throat to one of them, to another I stab him in the heart; a woman shakes my hair, she pulls them. For the pain I close my eyes for a second, and hit with my knife behind me, blindly.

The blade hits something, and the woman's grip on me slackens. I turn around, and the woman is on the ground, with my knife stuck in the temple; only one kill remains.

He's behind me, and I turn around, ready to eliminate him, and go home.

As soon as I am healed, I will find that son of a bitch of Mr. Letun, and I will torture him until he delete my size.

The man is in front of me, and to my surprise, he draws a gun. He points me straight in the face, but I can lower it in time, the bullet doesn't hit me in the head, but it pierces my left side. I can perceive the bullet perforating the organs, and coming out of the other side of my body.

The adrenaline helps me; I remove the gun from the hands of the man, and with the butt of the gun, I hit him as many times as I can. He fell to the ground; I grabbed his gun, and I shot him.

I approach the woman, and I shoot her too; for safety.

I pull out the charger, four bullets.

I should be able to walk less than a mile – even because the murderers are all dead. I think.

Limping, I finally enter the Avengers base; in the main room there are Steve, Nat and Tony. They turn as soon as they hear the door open, they look at me with an upset air. I must look awful.

"Good evening. Would any of you be kind enough to call a doctor?"

I cough, and cover my mouth with my hand; I look at her, she is dirty with blood.

Fuck.

"A doctor. Now."

"I want to see her."

When the doctor saw me, she thought I was a zombie; a normal person doesn't survive all the wounds I had.

But she still managed to pull the bullet out of my leg – the one in my side had already come out, just as I had foreseen – to mend the shoulder wound, and to disinfect all the cuts I got.

"Actually, she said... she doesn't feel well, and she doesn't want to see anyone, Mr. Barnes."

Yes, it's true. I told the doctor not to let anyone in, and for anyone, I mean Bucky. I know exactly that he will give me a long lecture; in fact, I think he already prepared it when he came here.

And I also know that it will not follow my requests, and will enter like a madman into the room.

Sitting on the couch, I look at the sack full of transparent liquid, which falls drop by drop into my veins. Damn, right now I would kiss the man who discovered morphine.

The door behind me opens, and heavy boots throw closer to me. He took more time than expected to enter.

I move my eyes from the morphine to my boyfriend, who has his perfect blue eyes fixed on me. He doesn't look at my body covered with cuts, Bucky looks me in the eye, never blinking.

He starts to make me uncomfortable.

"Then? Don't you say anything? You will play the game of silence, or you will start with 'Did I tell you?'" I say, imitating his voice in the final part.

"There is not much to say. The bullet holes, the shoulder wound, and the dozens of cuts and bruises on your body speak for themselves."

I roll my eyes; Bucky is not the type that remains silent, especially after what happened to me. I can see the pulsing vein on his neck; he tries to stay calm, but he can't very well.

"Come on, Bucky. We both know you will not resist making me a lecture. so let off steam, go ahead. I am listening to you."

"This is all a game for you!?" Bucky says, approaching me a step closer.

Long ago, when I met Bucky, if he had approached me so threateningly, I would have retreated. Not because I was afraid, but because he was still in its 'high danger' phase.

Now, instead, I know the meaning of every gesture; it took years, before learning to know him.

"No, it's not a game. Sixteen fucking murderers tried to kill me for fifteen fucking millions of dollars! They shot me, beat me, and one of them even had a fucking ax!"

I take a deep breath; the dose of morphine that the doctor has prescribed for me, I think it's not enough; the pain in my leg is starting again, and I don't want to feel it at all.

Bucky continues to remain silent, I lie on the bed, tired like never before; trying to get closer to the morphine bag, to increase the dose, Bucky anticipates me.

"You can't increase morphine."

"Please, Bucky. My leg hurts so badly."

He looks at me, even looking at me, as if to peer inside, know what I'm thinking.

Finally, Bucky approaches morphine, and slightly he increases the dose.

I remain silent, and I thank him with my eyes.

In one corner, there's an armchair, and that's where Bucky sits, not even for a moment glancing at me.

I close my eyes, and fall asleep.

I wake up about a couple of hours later; the first thing I look for is Bucky; he is still there, napping on the armchair.

He always seems so calm, while he sleeps; I wonder if he has ever dreamed me.

I remember the first few times when Bucky was afraid of sleeping with me. He still had not overcome the brainwashing trauma, and the night ended up waking in a sweat bath, completely frightened.

I knew what was happening, but initially I gave him space, and time to recover.

Then, one day, one night to be exact, I couldn't sleep; Bucky and I had gone to the cinema, and then we'd walked the streets of the city.

It had been a perfect evening, and there in my bed, I thought about how we had greeted each other; why Bucky had not kissed me, why he had not even hugged me. So, I went to his room, not even knocking, but Bucky felt my presence at the exact moment when I closed the door behind me.

He turned in his bed, while I was already near the edge. Without saying anything, I lay down beside him, and Bucky automatically wrapped his arms around my waist.

It was the first time Bucky and I slept together, and things have been different since that day.

I look at the morphine sac, now completely empty; in fact, the leg doesn't hurt me anymore, and I feel better.

Only now I realize that I still stain with blood; now it has dried up, and my hands are sticky. Without making too much noise – I don't want Bucky to wake up – I get out of bed, and head to the bathroom.

I open the shower tap, and after having painstakingly removed my clothes, I throw myself under the water.

I know it's a very obvious thing, but the hot water that falls on me is perfect; it loosens the muscles still tense, and it makes me feel much better. It calms me, physically and psychologically.

I am still under the water, when, suddenly, the curtain in front of me opens abruptly; I scream in fright, and pull the curtain toward me, to cover myself.

It's Bucky.

"What the hell, Bucky! You made me die of fear."

"I had to make sure you were here."

"What? Did you think I had left the water open, and I had run away? If you have not noticed, at the moment I still look like a limping old woman."

"As if you had never done it. Leave the water open, and run away."

Okay. Yes, I did it. Bucky and I were not dating yet, but his room was not far from mine; recently. I was part of the Avengers. Since I was a... newbie, I couldn't go for a stroll alone.

But I didn't even want to stay closed in my room; so, one day I went out – making everyone think I was in the shower.

When I returned, however, I entered the wrong window, and found myself lying in Bucky's bed. While he slept.

Come to think of it now, I laugh, but I try to hold back. If I laughed now, Bucky would get even more pissed off.

Now my time of relaxation is over, so I close the tap.

"Can you hand me the towel, please?"

Bucky stares at me for a few seconds, looking a bit 'strange.

"I promise you that while you take the towel, I don't run away. Also because, it's behind you, I wouldn't even have time to get out of the tub, with my leg hurting."

With the towel finally around my body, Bucky and I go back into the room; while I change, he does nothing but stare at me, and I don't know whether to feel excited, or uncomfortable. Probably the second one. Maybe.

"What do we do now?" I ask him, after wearing one of his T-shirts, and sitting on the bed again.

"What do you think? We find Mr. Letun, and torture him, until he cancels the size. Later, we kill him. For safety."

"Are you convinced you want to do it? He has a rather... broad army."

"Who cares! Bucky, what happened tonight, it will happen every time I leave this base. I don't want to remain forever locked up in a room. I want to live."

Bucky looks at the floor; I have never seen him in this state; he's worried, I know. What I don't know is whether his concern. concerns me, or Mr. Letun.

I get out of bed, and going to the armchair where Bucky is, I sit on his legs.

"I know it will not be easy. And I know I fucked up."

"Exactly, you shouldn't have gone out."

"By crap, I meant to have killed Letun's son. I should have killed not only his son, but him too. And instead, I let it go, and now I am in this mess."

Bucky rolls his eyes; poor man, he was convinced that I was sorry to be out; despite the wounds, the cuts, the bullets... I don't regret being out. I really enjoyed it.

"I'm tired of this situation. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this, locked up in a room to prevent someone killing me. Bucky, I have to find Mr. Letun, and I have to kill him."

"We have to."

"What?"

"We have to find him. I will come with you, I certainly will not let you go alone."

I smile, for what Bucky has just said. Although there was no need, because I knew perfectly well that he would help me.

A couple of days, a week maximum – the doctor said I have to rest for at least a month, but I will never do it – and I will get back on my feet. And I'll find that son of a bitch.

Forever Tag: @doro7winchester - @cirunia - @frickin-bats - @giftofdreams- @ria132love - @flirtswithdanger - @littlenerdgirl16 - @nanie5 - @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester - @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel - @disneymarina - @ironmanlover24