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samwilsonshandsandass · 4 years ago

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First Time

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: It’s your first synced period as a couple

Warnings: None

Word count: 955

A/N: This is my entry for @sunflowerxbarnes Bex’s 1.5K Meme Challenge. Congrats on that huge milestone and thanks for hosting this challenge. It’s my first time participating in a writing challenge, and as I write this, I’m already writing a fic for another challenge… I chose meme prompt number 4 with Wanda for this.

You knew about female friend groups and the syncing up of their period circles and you assumed that, of course, would also be the case when you finally had a girlfriend and lived with her. Even when said girlfriend had special powers and no one knew how those, and especially the experiments that happened beforehand, would affect her.

The first time you had gotten your period and Wanda was around, she cared for you. The first time she had gotten her period and you were around, you cared for her. You didn’t voice it, and you didn’t have to, but you had been a tiny bit apprehensive of how her powers would react but everything had been fine.

When it was your turn, Wanda’s powers were everything you could have wished for. You kept your girlfriend-Wanda-sized heating pad and nonstop cuddles were a given and the junk food, the ice cream, the chips, the pizza, everything just flew to you both.

But that also meant you were getting lazy when she was around, because your girlfriend could just get things to fly over to you. Maybe it was also easier for Wanda to just move her fingers when you asked her for a new bottle of conditioner while in the shower and she had a sheet mask in her fingers, dripping in serum and getting everywhere. At least that way, it didn’t get on the floor. Not that you took advantage of it, but if you’d compare the before and after, there was a difference.

And then came your first synced period as a couple in the same living quarters.

Wanda woke first, groaning. You were sleeping soundly and didn’t notice her going to the bathroom and coming back under the covers, but you woke up from her moving around to slot herself against you, to have you as her girlfriend-Y/N-sized heating pad.

Only for you to feel yourself starting your own period and groaning in response.

“You too?” Wanda mumbled.

“Uh-huh” You mumbled back and went to the bathroom.

You had only needed a minute until you were back in bed but that minute was enough for Wanda to groan because of her cramps.

“‘m coming”

You slotted yourself against her again and together, you tried to sink into the warmth of you two entangled together until your tummy grumbled loudly.

“I need food…” You groaned and Wanda wiggled her fingers, herself in hopes of a bag of chips flying over.

Alas, nothing came flying and the red glow around Wanda’s fingers dissipated and, in that moment, her tummy rumbled.

“Store run?”

“I’d need to leave the bed for that” Wanda said.

“Delivery service?”

“Takes too long.”

“Is there someone there we could ask to get us things?”

“Vision, maybe? He can fly. And go through walls…” Wanda mused.

In that moment, there was a knock on the door to the living room of your shared quarters on one of the residential floors of the tower.

“Come in, it’s open!” You yelled.

“Y/N!”

“Wanda? Y/N? I heard from Friday my services may be needed?” Came Vision’s voice from outside the bedroom door but inside the living room.

You stood up and went to the living room.

“Thanks for not barging through both doors, Vision.”

“You’re welcome, I thought just appearing in yours and Wanda’s bedroom would be a little weird.”

“Yeah, it would be and it’s strawberry week for both of us.” You tried to ignore the pain in your abdomen while talking with him.

“Strawberry…? Should I get you some? There are probably some in the kitchen.”

“No, it’s…” You giggled. “I’ll explain later. Could you go to the store and get us some things, please?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

The door to the bedroom opened and Wanda poked her head out.

“I want pizza and fries and chips and burgers and chocolate and gummy bears and cookies.”

You smiled at your girlfriend, mouthed a “Love you” and turned back to Vision.

“You got all that? I can make you a list.”

“I remember everything” He smiled at you and after saying goodbye, he went out.

---

An hour later, Vision came back and knocked on the living room door. You had migrated there with so many blankets over and around you two and zapped through the TV to find something to watch.

“Come in!” Wanda shouted.

Vision came in, arms full of everything you requested and, apparently more.

“There weren’t any specifications on what kinds you wanted of what, so I just got several things of each” He almost seemed apologetic at not being able to narrow down your exact taste in junk food despite not even knowing it.

“Don’t worry about it. This is more than enough” You smiled and threw one of the chips bags to Wanda who caught it and immediately started devouring the content.

“The pizza and the fries should be ready in a bit. I’ll just come back then, if that’s okay? And maybe you could explain to me what you meant by strawberry week? Should I still get you some? They don’t really tie in with the other food-“

“I like you Vis, I really do, but if you keep me from my girlfriend and all this junk food, I’ll sell you to Satan for one corn chip” You grumbled. His rambling was cute normally, especially with how eager he was to get everything you had sent him out to get and more but right now, you just wanted your girlfriend and all the food.

“But there are corn chips here. You won’t have to sell me to anyone for them?”

“Vision…”

“Yes, right. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Vision?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

#my things #my writing #Bex's 1.5K Meme Challenge #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader insert #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader insert #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #fanfiction #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda fanfic #marvel fanfiction #scarlet witch

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brooklyn-1918 · 4 years ago

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The Stars in Your Eyes:

Characters/ Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader established relationship.

Warnings: Mild language, mentions/implied smut (18+), other than that, its mindless fluff.

Summary: After a mission to Las Vegas, Nevada, you and Steve decide to take the long way back to New York. Or in other words, Steve decides to drag you on a road trip.

A/N: Hi! So this is for @sunflowerxbarnes ‘s meme writing challenge! I had the prompt of “Okay, fine. But I’m gonna complain about it the whole time,” highlighted in bold. I had a lot of fun with this, and I hope you enjoy!

Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada, mid July:

You and Steve stumbled into your hotel room, the sounds of the casino wafting through the still open window. Sweat dripped down your back from the heat, and you sat yourself down on the bed. With a smile, Steve came over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Well, this was a kinda shitty way to spend your birthday. Sorry, hun,” you say, smiling at him softly. Steve shrugs and pulls the tie from his neck off. Dropping it into your shared suitcase, he sits next to you.

��At least we took him down,” He notes, referring to the mob boss that was now on his way to prison. He let his head fall to his shoulder, watching you like you hung all the stars in the sky. You chuckle, and place your hand over his face to playfully shove him away.

Laughing, he catches your wrist and places a kiss on your palm. Still holding on, he flips over onto his back, pulling you with him.

Yelping in surprise, you quickly right yourself, stopping to straddle his lap, and placing your hands on his shoulders.

“I win!”

“You couldn’t hold me down if you tried.”

His hands move to envelop your hips, and you shrug. To prove his point, he surges up again, quickly getting to his feet. You wrap your legs around his waist, and press a kiss to his lips.

“Alright, put me down. We’re going to miss our plane.” Taking a glance at the digital clock on the nightstand, you panic just a little. Just over an hour left until your midnight flight.

He does as asked, and when you turn around to start packing your things, his hands reach your shoulders, then digging his thumbs into your tight muscles, he begins to give you a shoulder rub.

“Oh, good god, Steve,” You moan, tilting your head back.

“Too bad you’re not on the bed doin’ that,” He whispers in your ear. Your eyes shoot open, and without looking at him, you lean back, pressing your ass into his groin. Letting out a hiss, he lets your shoulders go in favour of gripping your hips again.

“Too bad we don’t have time for that.”

Giving yourself a little wiggle, you break free and begin packing again. Shaking his head, he moves to help you pack.

“You are an evil woman.” “I know.”

__________

You are in the rental car and driving down the boulevard fifteen minutes later. Hands clasped together over the center console, you watched the buildings fade by, millions of lights making the glass walls glow.

“It’s a shame we come all the way to Las Vegas and we don’t even get to play the slot machines. I mean, isn’t that what Vegas is all about?” You ask, turning to look at Steve. He laughs, and glances back.

“There are other things to do here. Cirque du soleil was fun.” “Yeah, it would have been a lot better if we weren't chasing evil henchmen number three through the backstage area,” You mutter to yourself. You can see him smiling out of the corner of your eye, and you give his hand a squeeze.

Falling silent again, Steve turns onto the highway, and flies right past the exit marked for the airport.

“Ah, babe? You missed the turn off,” You point out. Watching it recede in the rear view mirror, then finally disappear, he doesn't seem too concerned. With a shrug, he looked back to you briefly.

“I know. We aren't going to the airport though,” he spoke calmly. “Well then where are we going?”

“Home. Just… The slightly longer way.” “You mean we’re driving home?” You ask, taking your eyes off the road to trace over his features. He grinned, squeezing your hand.

“I talked to Tony before we left. He agreed that we could take a break and drive back to New York.”

“Oh.”

“Do you trust me?” He smiled cheekily at you. Raising your eyebrows toward him, jaw slack, you stared in disbelief. His face dropped, eyes widened. Bringing his hand up to your lips, you kissed his knuckles and offered a warm smile to ease the worry that was blooming over him.

“Steve, my love light of my life, that is the second dumbest question that you have ever asked me,” You explain. Dropping his hand in favor of scratching the back of his neck, you lean over to kiss his cheek.

“Of course I trust you.”

He let out a startled laugh, taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he pressed a kiss to your lips, soft and fast. His brow furrows as he watches the passing white and yellow lines fly under the car again.

“What do you mean, the second dumbest question? What did I ask?”

“You once asked me if I loved you. Now that was the dumbest question you asked,” You poke at him. He laughs again, this time less frightened, lighter.

“I love you too.”

__________

You startled awake two hours later. The car was off, and standing in your open door, Steve’s hand was on your thigh, his blue eyes were barely discernible in the dark.

“Where--” You let out a yawn. “Where are we?”

Steve shrugged, unbuckling your seatbelt for you. He tucked his arms around your back and under your legs, and lifted you from your seat.

“Steve, what are we doing?”

“We’re going to look at the stars,” He said smoothly. You frown, tucking your head against his chest as he carried you. “Why?” You questioned, burrowing your head down further into his warmth, trying to combat the cool desert air. His chest vibrated as he chuckled quietly.

“Because it will be fun.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “Okay, fine. But I’m gonna complain the whole time.” He laughs again, louder this time, echoing out into the otherwise silent landscape. You feel his lips press to the top of your head as he stops walking.

Bending down, he softly deposits you onto a blanket. He covers you with another soft sheet, and tucks a pillow under your head that you suspected he may have nicked from the hotel where you had just come from.

You snuggle down, then over as he lowers himself next to you. You forego the pillow, and use his shoulder as a headrest instead.

“You aren't complaining,” He whispers. Taking a brief moment to think of something, you shrug.

“My hands are cold?”

Steve slips your hands into his much larger, much warmer ones, encasing them tightly. He questions to see if it was alright, and you hum your response back sleepily.

“Any more complaints?”

“Nope.” “Good, then help me find a shooting star.”

Training your eyes to the sky, it nearly rips a gasp from your throat. Hundreds of thousands of stars spatter across the sky. The whole universe, laid out before you, with no one else around.

It was unlike anything you would ever be able to see in New York.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve says next to you. You hum again to agree with him, and turn to face him.

When you do, however, you find him staring straight at you. A smile dawns his face, pulling the corners of his eyes into creases.

The stars reflect in his eyes, and you find yourself swimming in the deep blue ocean flecked with dapples of light.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” He reiterates, moving one of his hands to brush the hair from your face.

You press a kiss to his lips, closing your eyes as you both connect.

Settling back down, you train your eyes to the stars, and utter one last sentence, before you drift off to sleep again.

“I have no more complaints.”

Permanent Tags:

@wildefire

Story Tags:

@sunflowerxbarnes

#bex's 1.5k meme challenge #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #reader insert #marvel #fanfic #Chris Evans

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doubleshotofsomething · 4 years ago

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To Hell & Back

This is my entry for @sunflowerxbarnes’s 1.5K Meme Writing Challenge. Congradulations on the milestone xx. This is a Bucky Barnes fanfic series (wasn’t intentional, i promise). It is inspired by the song ‘To Hell & Back’ by Maren Morris.

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: [Will be placed accordingly]. So far...nothing?

Summary: You hate Bucky. Which is understandable, especially since he and his friends are the root cause of almost all your problems. Unfortunately for you, life just won’t let you live without him.

Part One: “When my demons come a-calling, you don’t even bat an eye”

You are going to cry.

Which is a problem because, according to that content creator on that app you've accidently become addicted to - not that you'll ever admit it, you are a boss bitch and boss bitches don't cry.

"I am so-- sorry.."

You do not want to cry. Even though you have every right to, at this very moment.

Your annoying neighbour, who has made it his life mission to ruin yours, is staring at you with the guiltiest sea-blue eyes you wish you could drown in. Literally drown in. But he would never let that happen.

It is his fault you are about to cry, which is not a shock since he was apparently designed to evoke every negative reaction out of you. And, because you must be on the wrong planet and in the wrong timeline, you are about to have a meltdown in front of him.

"I... I'll buy you a new one."

You try to take a deep breathe and fail. Instead, all you can do is hyperventilate and fan yourself with your hand, while staring down at your coffee machine.

Well, what used to be your coffee machine.

"Why--" your voice cracks and you don't bother to clear your throat, "--why is it that every time I try to fix my life, you show up to ruin it!"

He blinks, then frowns, then looks around the hallway you're both standing in the middle of. There is no one else there, as usual, since you and him are the only ones occupying the apartments on that floor.

"Are--are you talking to me?" He asks, unsure.

It's not his fault. He knows there is no one else you could be referring to, but you haven't seen a word to him since that night. Not that you were coherent enough to be addressing him in particular.

You glare at him, eyelids dampening with the tell-tale signs of your un-boss-bitch tears.

"Yes!" You proclaim. "You, Barnes! I'm talking to you with your-your--ugh!"

Your hands are trembling fists on either side of you and it takes all his willpower to not hold them in his.

"I was fine!" You throw your hands out and point them in the direction of the broken coffee machine. "I was doing just fine until you showed up!"

"Fine?" He scoffs. "You were struggling to carry that. You woulda dropped it either way, this was its fate."

The frustrated scream that escapes you makes him want to smile. He hates upsetting you, but this is the first time in months he has seen any source of life in you.

So he continues. "I just wanted to help--"

"I didn't ask for your stupid help!" You spit out before kneeling down to pick up your shattered happiness. "I knew it was heavy when I bought it an hour ago--" you scoop whatever you can into your arms and get up, "I knew it was heavy when I got on the bus with it in my fuckin' arms and I knew it was heavy when I walked from the bus stop, to this apartment building. And when you got in the elevator, I knew it was heavy then too!"

"I'm sorry, I'll go buy you a new one right n--"

"I don't want a new one!"

"Okay, I'll fix that one then--"

"I don't want you to fix it!"

"Uh--" he stammers, watching you walk towards your apartment door --right next to his-- and struggle to open the door. "Let me help you wi--"

"No!" You all but growl at him, your eyes flooding with tears and venom he hasn't seen since he walked into your hospital room. "I don't want your help or anything else from you! Leave me alone already!"

Somehow, you manage to get into your apartment and slam the door shut. You heave and toss the coffee machine -- your poor excuse of attempting to be...well, to be -- onto the couch.

You sit down next to it, lips wobbling and cheeks damp, and pick at the pieces that aren't broken.

"Uh-hey--"

"Oh my god--" You shoot up from your couch and turn in the direction of your open apartment door. "--did the 1900s not have rules about walking into other people’s apartments uninvited?! Get out, Barnes!"

He raises his hands up in surrender, keys dangling from his one gloved hand. Your keys. Your eyes widen at the realisation as you look between him and your keys.

"Is that how you got in the first time?" You point an accusing broken piece of machine at him.

He frowns. "No, I broke down your door--" he narrows his eyes at you, "--which reminds me, we really need to talk about the very little fuck you give about your safety. Why was there only one lock on your door? You live alone. Also--why do you have so many blankets when you live alone?"

"Dude!" You throw the broken piece in your hand at him. "Get out. And give me back my keys!"

His eyebrows furrow and he points at the keys with his other hand. Feigning confusion, he asks, "what keys? These keys? They're yours?"

"I will throw a chair at you." It's an empty threat and you both know it. Not because of who he is and what he can do, but because you have no chairs - only one three-seater couch.

"You left these--" they jingle in his hand, "--at the door. On the other side of it. Where strange men--" he points a thumb at himself, "--can just use them to invade your privacy."

The smartass in you chooses that moment to wake up. "Strange men kick down doors to invade my privacy."

It's his turn to glare. "Listen, Doll--"

"Not a doll, not a dame and definitely not in need of your mansplaining," you give him a syrupy sweet smile. "Drop the keys next to the machine you broke and go away."

He forgot how frustrating you can be.

Taking a deep breath, he sets down the keys on the coffee table -- because Bucky Barnes has proven to be pettier than you -- and walks out without another word.

The wall between your apartment and his separates his bedroom from your living room area. It's not a thin wall, but it's thin enough for him to hear when you say the words "stupid" and "asshole" in consecutive order.

You, because you don't have super serum pumping through your veins, don't hear when he belts out a laugh at that.

------

TAGS: @sunflowerxbarnes

#Bex's 1.5K Meme Challenge #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #marvel masterlist #neighbours au #bucky fanfic #x reader #reader insert #mcu x reader #bucky x y/n #to hell and back #part 1 #marvel challenge

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doubleshotofsomething · 4 years ago

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To Hell & Back

Part Three: “I don’t scare you and I guess that’s why”

Summary: You attempts at payback keep getting ruined. Somehow, you keep needing the same idiot you hate.

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Warnings: Swearing. [Also typos, probably. Which shall be repaired by tomorrow]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

---

Series Masterlist [in case you missed the other ones]

----

"Good morning-" your customer service smile widens just a smidge, "-what can I get ya?"

Bucky narrows his eyes, lips tightening into a thin line as he looks over you. Even with the counter between you and the little fluff in his hand, he still manages to look intimidating.

You're trying your best to not show how much the sight of him, angry and inconvenienced, pleases you. It's a mission, but you keep your professional façade intact.

"I'm going to throw you off the roof." He growls, adjusting his arm as he glares at you. "Then I'm gonna dance on your grave."

"That doesn't sound familiar," you say coyly, tilting your head to the side. "Is that some kind of latte?"

There is a line forming behind him and your co-workers are you giving the both of you side-eyes. Bucky doesn't seem to care, his blue eyes flashing with what you can only hope is anger. You don't care either, you warned him and he didn't listen.

"You took my parking space-" he dumps the white fluff onto the counter between you. "-my fucking parking space."

You shrug. "You made me drink filter coffee."

He glowers. "That justifies your actions?"

"Filter," you emphasize, gently nudging the little fur ball towards him. "Filter fucking coffee, Barnes. Do you know what that shit does to a person?"

You can hear one of your co-workers mumble an "oh, here we go" and you shoot them a glare. Turning back to the mammoth in front of you, you nudge his gift back to him.

"Excuse me-" Bucky turns around, giving you a clear view of the old man behind him. "-some of us have things to do. Can you two hurry the fuck up?"

You both blink at the man, completely unfazed, then turn back to each other. He shoves the cat back to you and it lets out a disgruntled out.

"Take your cat and go home," you gently push it back to him.

"I don't have a cat." He pushes it back.

"Your parking space disagrees." You pick it up and put it in his arms.

He narrows his eyes, holding the cat. "That was just cruel, even for you, doll."

"Not a doll."

"I will be taking your parking space."

"I don't have one-" you grin. "-no car, no space. Also, you can't prove I took your parking space."

His nostrils flare. "Who else would put this-" he gestures to the furball clinging onto him, "-in a box and put it where my bike is supposed to be?!"

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Then frown. "Wait, why do you have a car and a bike?"

"Seriously?"

You nod. "Yeah, I keep forgetting to ask you about that-"

"Sweetheart, I'm going to drop you off in Australia after this-" your heart nearly plummets at the thought and you glare at him. "-and that's your concern, right now? The car and the bike?"

You don't question why or how he knows Australia is on your list of murder sites. You also don't question why the way he just called you sweetheart makes you want things you shouldn't.

You're about to respond, something snarky that will piss him off even more, when the same guy interrupts again.

"Hey!" He rounds and stands next to Bucky, glaring you both down. "Listen, I didn't beat morning traffic for some coffee only to have some gym buff flirt up the cashier."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot up. He tries to blink back the shock, but he can't.

Flirt? With you? He could never disrespect you like that. Not at your job. Never like this.

You have worked with, and for, people like that for the longest of time. So you're not surprised by the tantrum the man throws.

However, you're running low on patience at the moment.

"Sir-"you glare at the man, "-this man, right here, is a war hero. A veteran. The reason half the world is back. You owe your life to him. So if you're gonna be an asshole-"

Bucky cuts in. "Doll, it's oka-"

"Shut your trap, Barnes!" You hiss at him, before turning back to the man. "If you're gonna be an asshole and accuse him of flirting with me, then call him Sergeant - not gym buff. Now, get the fuck out of my shop before I have him throw you out!"

The man sputters, random words flying out of his mouth as he scrambles to form a sentence. Bucky grimaces at the sight and turns back to you.

"That wasn't necessary-"

"He called me a cashier."

He pauses, then nods. You were a barista first, manager second - you worked far too hard on that promotion to be demoted publicly by an asshole - and spiteful third.

You would rather let your neighbour call you Doll, than let a stranger assume your job title.

"Fair point. I'll take a coffee while I wait for you-"

You slit your eyes. "What kind of coffee, Barnes?" You grit the words out.

It's not a question, it's a warning. One he blatantly ignores as he adjusts the kitten in his arm.

He gives you a smile, the most innocent smile you've ever seen on that face of his. And that's saying a lot, you've seen all his smile and none of them are this deceiving.

A pit forms in your stomach at the glint in his eyes. Utter betrayal.

"I swear to god, if you say filter-"

"Decaf." He cuts you off, a sweet smile on his face. "I'll take decaf."

---

You had wiped down the counter three times, before finishing with your queue. Then took over making the drinks, while everyone else worked the registers.

If Bucky wasn't sure that you were making him wait on purpose, the fact that you let everyone else take their breaks first was confirmation enough.

Once you were sure he had been stewing for long enough, you took your fifteen minutes.

With a bottle of water and an empty ice cream cup, you move to the little corner booth in the back. Bucky leans back, eyeing your hands, as you approach.

"That's all you're gonna eat?" Is his question as you sit down.

"Not for me," you pour water into the cup and nudge it towards him. "It's for your new friend. Or roommate. Or whatever it is you called 'em back in the day."

He rolls his eyes, gently picking up the cat from his lap and placing it on the table. He nudges the water closer to cat.

"Now," you fold your arms on the table and rest your chin on them, watching the little thing make it's way to the water. "Tell me more about this fuzzball."

Bucky frowns and shifts slightly in his chair, slowly analysing you. You don't notice, too busy focused on the cat that shouldn't be in the shop.

For a moment, you have this wondrous look in your eye as you watch. It's there for a short moment, then it's gone. He wants it back. In your eyes, where it should always be.

You chance a look at him. "The cat?"

"Why aren't you eating?" He counters. "Isn't it your break?"

"No, it's not for another three hours." You straighten in your seat. "This is just a breather, so use it wisely."

"Okay, then what will you be eating in three hours?"

You sigh, folding your arms and leaning in your seat. "Are you asking me out for lunch, Barnes?"

He bristles. Not because of the question, but the use of his last name. He prefers Bucky, you know he does, but he's gotten so accustomed to you calling him anything other than Bucky that it worries him.

"No," he states.

Not lunch. That's not enough time, it's never enough time.

Dinner. That's a definite. Nights are longer, and you don't have to rush back to work after. It's not enough time either, but it's a gateway to breakfast. So, not lunch. Never lunch.

"Then?" You raise an eyebrow.

He retaliates by raising his. "Will you be eating lunch or working through it?"

You stare at him, eyes flicking between both blues. He stares back, something you've noticed he's good at. And knowing that stirs something inside you, something you wish you could drown.

"Yes, Barnes-" you sigh. "-I will be eating lunch."

"Good."

"I always figured Blondilocks was the mom friend of your death squad. Guess I was wrong."

Blondilocks is a nickname you reserved for Steve. It used to piss him off, but now he realises how fitting it is.

He chooses to ignore your remark. "Now, let's talk about the parking space and the cat."

"I'm innocent."

"No, you're not." He glares. "You threatened to take my parking space and now you took it."

"I plead the fifth."

"And you involved a cat. What am I supposed to do with a cat?"

"I want a lawy–" you pause, his words seeming to echo in your head. You sit up and place your hands on the table. "–wait a minute. What did I do with what cat?"

Bucky points at the kitten laying on the table. You're not seated by a window, but the rays of sunlight still reach your table – much to the furball's delight.

"The cat in my parking space." He says it like you're supposed to know what he's talking about.

Which is both amusing and upsetting, because you don't.

You blink at him. "I didn't put a cat in your parking space."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't. I put something else in the parking space–" you claim, your mind flashing with the images of plates of tampon-stuffed jelly that you placed on his parking space. "–but not a living creature. I'd never abandon a living, breathing thing in a basement parking lot for payback. I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

It's Bucky's turn to be confused. The only reason he was there, at your work, was because he tried to park his car – only to find a large box in the middle of his parking spot. Inside the box, was a small pillow and bowl of milk, next to what looked like a small, white fluffy tennis ball.

He thought it was you. It made sense. The thing inconvenienced him, like something you would make sure to do. And it was added responsibility that you knew he never wanted. So, of course he thought it was you. It had to be.

"Wait, so all you found was a cat?" You frown, clearly annoyed at that little fact.

Bucky nods slowly, confused that it wasn't you. Who else could it be, if not you?

You huff. "So... You didn't get my surprise gift to you? At all?"

"There was a cat," he explains again. "In a box. That's it."

"Now that's just fucking disrespectful!" You're beyond pissed now. "I spent the entire night on those dishes."

"No need to be dramati–"

"Barnes–" you flash your eyes at him, picking up the table's salt shaker and pointing it at him. "I will use this."

His eyes narrow. "I'm not a demon–"

"I," your eyes narrow further, "will use this."

---

There's banging on your door. Loud and insistent. You don't need to ask, to know who it is.

You're also very, very aware of the fact that your mother somehow got a copy of your keys. You called her out on it, one Saturday Session, gross invasion of privacy was the term you used.

Somehow, those words twisted into something far more sinister and you left your childhood home feeling worse than you did when you walked in.

You hated those five years. Watching your mother mourn both your sister and father did things to you, things no one should ever have to go through. But watching your sister's husband – a man you used to respect – turn into everything you hate, that had to have been the worst of it all.

You hated those five years, you hated the Avengers for not winning too. But now, with everyone back, you wish they'd lost again.

"Psst," you're on your balcony, hoping your neighbour's super serum gave him superhearing. "Barnes."

You slipped out the glass door the moment you heard a key being slipped into your front door locks. You guess your mother is either with your sister, or she gave her a copy of your keys. You made sure to close it on your way out, and hid out of sight.

"Barnes," you whisper again, "Barnes, open up. I will freeze to death out here."

A soft click sounds, followed by your neighbour's glass door opening a fraction. He sticks his head out, a frown on his face as he eyes you.

"Wha–" he inspects your attire, the only light coming from a street pole a few blocks away. "–why aren't you wearing pants?"

You stick your hand out, wiggling your fingers at him. "I will cat sit for you, if you can hide me."

The barrier, a makeshift fence, between your balconies reaches his waist in height. But you have no upper body strength so pulling yourself over it will lead to a disaster, and the amount of noise that will expose your hiding place.

Sighing, he steps out onto the balcony and gently shuts the door behind him. It takes you moment to realise he's shirtless, and in sweatpants, then another to realise you've never seen him shirtless and in sweatpants.

You're staring. Gawking. And it's shameful, but you can't seem to pull yourself together.

It's unsettling for him, the way you're looking at him. He clears his throat but you don't seem to hear it, too far in your own mind apparently.

Your hand, the one you'd held out for him, slowly lowers to the railing and you blink. The cold air nips at your skin and you have to force yourself to look up at his eyes.

Big mistake. You think as your breath hitches, he looks like he wants to throw you off the roof, but your heart flutters a bit at the sight of his little pout.

The corner of your lips twitch. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," you begin, "you just... You do look like a gym buff in those pants."

He glares. "You gonna stare all night or what?"

You wish you could find that little part of you that wants to say yes, just so you could throw her off that balcony.

This time, you lift both your arms up and pout. "Or what."

Gentle hands grip your waist, warm and cold, and hoist you over the railing. Bucky gently sets you down, your mismatched socks barely warming your feet against the cold metal.

"This is the weirdest booty call I've ever had," you muse, trying to keep your mind off of his hands on you.

He scoffs, taking a step back. "Pretty sure that's my line, Doll–"

"–not a Doll."

"–and I'm pretty sure this is more of a home invasion, than a booty call."

"You would know."

Sighing, he squeezed passed you to open the door. "Ladies first."

You curtsey and practically leap inside when you catch a glimpse of your glass door opening. A sharp pain slices through your arm as you land on your side.

Bucky is about to rush in, to ask if you're alright, to see if you've actually lost the remainder of your mind. Because you must have.

"Oh."

He shivers, in the worst way, at the sound of your sister's voice and is forced to abandon all thoughts of checking on you. Schooling his face takes priority now.

He turns around, grimacing slightly at her shocked expression. "Hey."

"Uh-uh–" she stammers, eyes that match yours scanning every inch of him as she does. "–uh-uh-"

Nodding, he sighs. "Yeah, sorry–" she's not the first to react like this. He's just glad that your staring didn't result in that. "–I came out for some fresh air. I should've known someone would think to do the same."

Your sister's gaping only seizes when her husband's voice echoes from your apartment. Of course she'd bring her husband.

"Oh," the asshole repeats, stepping out onto the balcony. "Hey, man. What's up?"

Bucky shrugs, forcing a smile. "I didn't know you guys were over. Woulda stopped by and said hi, if I knew."

"Oh," your sister lets a nervous laugh, waving the thought away. "No, no. We were just in the area and wanted to stop by. Ya know, check on her."

Bullshit.

They came because of the poisoned muffins.

Bucky doesn't need to force the smile anymore. "Oh, that's great. How is she?"

This is probably the first time they've managed to leave their place. Or else they would have been there earlier in the week.

The asshole shrugs. "I hope we didn't make dinner uncomfortable for you on Saturday," he adds instead. "We really enjoyed your company."

"Hmm." Bucky nods, still smiling. Near grinning now. By the third twitch of lips, he knows he has to get back inside before it's too late. "Well, goodnight."

He thought the torture was when he had to walk back, slowly, into his own place without breaking down. Then closing the door at a slow pace, as not to give anything away.

But as soon as he turned around, as soon as he saw you sitting on the floor, on his impromptu bed. Legs criss-cross, kitten by your feet, and cup of coffee in your hands. Everything changed.

"Helped myself to some coffee," you whisper, cradling the cup closer to your lips.

Torture would be the following night, and the nights after that. Where he would walk into his apartment, and not find you there – like this.

"Fuck."

----

TAGS :D : @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel , @arctic-duchess , @sltwins , @thewayilookatbacon , @buckyisperfect , @paryl

#Bex's 1.5K Meme Challenge #Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #reader insert #x you #x reader #neighbour!bucky #neighbours au #enemiestolovers au #marvel challenge #bucky fic #mcu x reader #to hell and back #Part 3 #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky x y/n

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doubleshotofsomething · 4 years ago

Text

To Hell & Back

Part Two: “Lucky for me, your kind of heaven’s been to hell & back”

Summary: You still hate Bucky. But you need him to keep you from going to jail... So, what’s the harm in inviting him over to dinner?

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Warnings: Angst?? (i think). Probably typos( which will be fixed). Implied violence.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part one [In case you missed it]

----

It's Saturday.

Your day off. Well, what used to be your day off until it was turned into a family therapy session.

Well... Not an actual therapy session. It is literally just dinner with your family, including your sister's husband - a man you refuse to identify as your brother in law for reasons that will end in you being called the j-word. The husband, because he's the only son-in-law your parents have, has been dubbed the "referee" of the Saturday Sessions.

Each session, since you've been discharged, has made committing murder seem more and more appealing.

So appealing, that you're standing in front of your neighbour's door with a basket of muffins and a please-keep-me-from-committing-felonies smile.

Bucky, because he just spent the afternoon searching for a new bar, is standing on the other side of the door. Both confused and frightened to see you at his door voluntarily.

"Is there a bomb in that basket?" He asks, eyes roaming over you suspiciously. "Believe me, it's not gonna work."

You blink at him, then at the basket. Then back at him. "Why would I put a bomb in a muffin basket and then hold it?"

He raises a sceptical eyebrow at you.

You huff. "Fine, they're poisoned. I accidentally added laxatives while making them-"

"Accidentally?"

"Yes, accidentally-" you glare at him. "-they're not for you. They're from us."

He blinks at you, confused. You haven't spoken to him, actually spoken to him, for a few months. You avoid him like he has a disease and when your paths do cross, you just glare at him like he threw your cat into on coming traffic.

It's been a few days since the coffee machine incident. He has a brand new one - better than the last one - sitting on his kitchen counter, waiting for him to develop the courage to give it to you. It should be easy. He has mastered the art of making amends.

But... He can't, for some reason, bring it to you.

"Wait-" he frowns, your words finally registering in his head, "-did you just say from us?"

You set the basket down. "So, remember when you broke my one shot at happiness?"

"Oh god." He forgot how dramatic you are, as well.

"Yeah, you can fix that little error by being a doll and-" you pause, then frown, struggling to find the right words.

"Muffin poisoned your tongue?"

"I'm trying to ask you to be my plus one for tonight's dinner-" you grit your teeth, your blood beginning to boil. "-at my parents house."

You didn't look him in the eye when you said that. And by the sounds of it, he doubts this is something he should be going to. Or something you should be going to. Not if it brings out this side of you.

"Who are the muffins for?"

They were for your sister. You broke her nose last week, which was never your intention, and the guilt has been eating you up alive since. The punch was meant for her asshole husband.

"You coming or not?"

"Let me grab a wine and the keys."

"We have muffins. No need to waste your good wine on mediocre tastes."

"I'm bringing the wine."

"If you make us stop to pick out flowers, I will watch porn with the volume on full blast every night for a week."

"Why are you always so violent?"

"So, how bad is it?" Bucky asks.

You've been in the car for a half an hour, because you chose the busiest route and the most congested during rush hour, and that's the first thing either of you have uttered since you politely dragged him out of his apartment.

You shrug. "Three roads lead to this one, so we'll be here another half hour."

"I mean the situation-" he drums his fingers against the wheel. "-you literally chose to be in a car with me, for the longest time possible. Either you want to get there late or you don't want to get there at all."

"Maybe I just like spending time with you."

Bucky scoffs, but doesn't question you further.

The car is silent, aside from the traffic outside, and you could almost relax. For just a moment, you could close your eyes and imagine you're somewhere else.

But you can't. Because you're not. You're on your way to a dinner that shouldn't be happening and is only happening because you're part of your neighbour's redemption list.

Because he just had to have a conscious.

"I punched my sister last week," you mumble.

Bucky wants to laugh. He wants to laugh so badly. He has met your sister, a handful of times - at the hospital, outside your room and outside your apartment door.

Every time she'd come over, she would knock hard enough to make him think she's part of SWAT team. And each time, he would could hear you scramble to switch off all devices that could alert her of your presence inside.

One time, you'd both arrived a few minutes after each other. His door was closer and already open, so you shoved your grocery in his hand and dived into his apartment to hide from your sister. He had to pretend he hasn't seen you since you left for work , and that the packet of sanitary pads that fell out were for his girlfriend.

He didn't have one.

He wants to laugh, because he doesn't like her at all. But he doesn't, because she's your sister. "What did she do?"

"She married an asshole-" you scoff. "-and decided to get in the way and I tried to punch said asshole."

At this, he grins. "And you need me there because?"

"I need you to keep me from trying to kill him," you begrudgingly admit. "I'm too high maintenance for prison."

"How bad is this guy that you need me to help you not kill him?"

"Bad enough that I'm gonna need you to park a few blocks away from the house," you turn to look at him, his confused eyes meeting yours for a quick second. "I told them we're taking the bus."

"Wow."

"Which means we only get to spend less than two hours there, if you drive a little slow-" you pause when he drives passed a McDonald's. "-hey, can we stop and get milkshake?"

He deadpans. "We have dinner plans with your parents."

"I get that you and them might have gotten along since you decided to be a hero," you glare at him. "But they're not as cool as the hospital visits made them seem."

Your parents have invited him over to dinner a handful of times, and each time he had to decline. You and him weren't on the best of terms, and he didn't want to make things worse by showing up for dinner without your knowledge.

He knows, first hand, that a few interactions aren't enough to give the full depth of a person. But he saw how devastated they were, how heartbroken they were, at the sight of tubes and needles sticking out of you.

He doesn't believe, he can't believe, for a second that they're as bad as you say they are.

But he won't argue with you. Not about this. "We'll get milkshake after."

"Hey, remember that coffee machine you br-"

"Oh, fuck you!"

***

You're not a fan of wine. At least, not the wine Bucky brought to the dinner.

An hour into the dinner and you've already had enough glasses to have Bucky worried. The wine is halfway to empty by the time dessert rolls in, and when your sister's husband clears his throat, you abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle.

The second hour into the dinner is where things got interested. Interesting enough for Bucky to take the bottle from you before you could throw it at someone's head. Mainly because he wanted to throw it at someone's head. Your sister's husband's head to be specific.

Just as your mother gets up to start making tea for the muffins you brought, Bucky is the first on his feet and the first to use the 'we have to get going before we miss the bus' excuse.

You grin at him, vision slightly hazy from the wine you drank on an empty stomach.

"Mhmm," you hum as you cling into him to get to your feet, "the bus. We gotta- the bus. Bah-yeee."

"I'll make sure she gets home safe," he promises to your parents and they believe him.

Hell, you believe him. If there's one thing you can trust your neighbour to do, it's to save your life. But not your coffee machine.

He guides back to the car, which is parked exactly where you told him to, and he's never been happier to have listened to you. You sing all the way back, some ridiculous song about when you're fat and old, and you're the most content he's ever seen you.

Drunk off wine, eyes glassy and smile wide, as you try to mimic his steps. You sigh when you get into your seat, even though you fight him on opening your own door, and fumble lazily with your seat belt until he helps you clip it in.

Your struggle to find a comfortable position, but forget all about that when he parks the car outside your favourite coffee shop. You're out before he can even unclip his seatbelt and you're inside before he makes it to the door.

"Hi," you whisper-yell as you lean against the counter. "Pssst. Hi. Hello."

The barista blinks at you. Bucky cuts in before he can get a word out. "We'll take coffee. Filter. And anything that's bread-"

"-don't listen to him, he breaks hearts for a living. Sometimes he rips them out." I jab your pointer finger against the countertop. "I will take the strongest coffee you've got. I'm in the mood for bad decisions and-"

"We'll be at the booth, in the back." Bucky gently pries you from the counter. "One coffee and two bottles of water-"

You try to smack his hands away. "Why must you be so- Barnes, I swear to god, I will take your parking space."

He shoves you into the booth, then takes a seat opposite you. You attempt to make a break for the counter, but the glare he fixes you with is enough to keep you in your place.

It should scare you. The look he gives you. You know what he is capable of, without mad scientists to control him, you know the damage he's done. It takes a special kind of strength to face people like the flag smashers, and a special kind of crazy to go after them.

Bucky is both. And yet, his glare doesn't scare you. So much so, that you return it.

"I hate your brother-in-law-"

"Sister's husband," you cut in to correct him. "I refuse to recognise him as my anything."

He nods. "Right. So, let me get this straight-"

Bucky pauses as the barista sets down the coffee, the water, two croissants, some breadsticks and a garlic roll. When he's satisfied that there's nothing else, he leaves you alone with Bucky and the breads.

"You got work tomorrow-" he puts sugar into your coffee and stirs, before handing it to you. "-so you're gonna need to eat as much, so that it absorbs all that wine."

You glare at him but still do as he says. He's right and you'd rather sulk than admit it.

"So," he clears his throat to get your attention. "Your sister is an asshole, that married an asshole. And your parents are enablers of all that bullshit?"

You nod, practically shoving the garlic bread into your mouth. You didn't touch the food your mother cooked and, other than that milkshake Bucky bought you, you haven't had anything to eat all day.

"Instead of just sending you to therapy-" he scrunches his face in disgust at the thought. "-I can't fucking believe I'm advocating for that, but instead of paying for therapy. They do that? Host a dinner, sit a circle and kumbaya the problems away?"

Taking a sip from your coffee, you continue to nod. "Is it helping?"

He frowns, meeting your eyes. "What?"

"The mandated sessions-"you swallow. "-I heard you and Wings talking about it."

Thin walls. Shared balconies. Despite not being in each other's life, both of you know more than enough because of your apartments.

Your balcony and his are separated by a small barrier, but you can still hear his conversations - and visa versa- if you leave your glass door open enough when he's out there.

The wall that separates your apartment is thin enough for him to pick up on your habits. You don't think you're a creature of habit, but he would disagree.

He can tell, just from your foot steps, what you're going to watch or do in the living room. From the little sounds you make, he can tell which series you're binge watching for the umpteenth time and which one is on just for background noise.

If you weren't a creature of habit, he wouldn't have found you in time. You wouldn't be sitting in front of him, asking about his wellbeing, instead of dealing with yours.

"Wings is Captain now," he corrects, and you accept the deflection.

You would never overstep, or push. Not with him. Never with him.

"If Captain, why Wings?"

Narrowing his eyes, he pushes the bread sticks closer to you. "Fine, Captain Wings."

Again, you obey the silent instruction.

"Where were we-"

"We were plotting an asshole's abduction," you tell him, "and then dropping him off at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. If that's not available, then maybe near Dyer Island."

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Why would we drop your sister’s husband on an Island?”

"It's a place, with a shitload of great white sharks."

"And you know this because?"

"I like to always be prepared."

"For what?" His brows furrow. "Do you just know random places to dump people that–"

You cut in. "–will lead to an inevitable death by natural causes? Yes."

He stares at you. Actually stares. Openly, at you. He can't remember the last time he did that, looked at you, for no other reason than to just look.

You didn't always hate him. When he first moved into your apartment building, and the landlord introduced you too, you were indifferent. He didn't think you knew who he was, most people don't at first glance, so he was relieved. Indifference was definitely better than everything else.

That was until you walked passed him and Sam in the lobby of the building, a week after he moved in.

"Sarge–" you nodded at him, as you checked your mail. Then nodded at Sam as you made your way out of the building. "–Wings."

You knew, you always knew who he was, and just didn't care. That was refreshing, to say the least.

The hate only came that night, or the following morning, he wasn't sure. All Bucky knows is, he meddled, and now you hate him for it. For saving you.

He's tried to talk to you about it. Countless of times, he's tried, and each time you hate him a little bit more. Or so it seems.

He wants to talk about it now. It's obvious in the way he's looking at you, like he can't believe you're here, in front of him. You can't either, but you won't ever admit that to him.

Hell would sooner freeze over before you actually admitted that maybe, just maybe, he should have meddled sooner.

You won't. So, instead, you put down the bread stick and sit back. "I know a really cool coffee place... If you still need a new place to hang."

It's an olive branch. You don't ever say what you really mean, he knows that, and he smiles at that little fact. That he knows that, he knows you.

"Is the barista as dramatic as I hear?"

"Only to strangers that break down her doors," you shrug. "Oh, and guys who break her coffee machine–"

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

You grin. Because you're just as petty as he is.

---

Tags: @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel , @arctic-duchess

#Bex's 1.5K Meme Challenge #Bucky Barnes #marvel masterlist #x reader #reader insert #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel writing challenge #part 2 #neighbours au #enemiestolovers au #bucky fanfic #series #mcu x reader

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doubleshotofsomething · 3 years ago

Text

To Hell & Back

Part Four: “My wings are frayed and what’s left of my halo’s black”

Summary: Your exit strategy involves your neighbour... Well, it is your neighbour.

Prompt: "I don't want to live on this planet anymore."

Warnings: swearing. (Typos that will be fixed). That's it??

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

-----

Series Masterlist

-----

You weren't always this...angry.

You weren't always this spiteful and short tempered, and malicious enough to deliberately poison muffins.

At one point in life, you were everything you'd ever wanted in a friend. Kind and compassionate. Even patience was a virtue you had an abundance of.

Then, one day, some guy from Asgard came with an army of aliens and ripped a hole through your father's finances. Apparently damaging a bunch of buildings, including the one your father worked at, was bad for business and so it closed down.

Just as your mother's job had barely managed to get your family out of the red, her boss gets murdered at some important meeting that blew up – along with some world leaders. In her boss's place, the son took over and ran the company into the ground.

Luckily, your sister had a bakery that made just enough to cover your parents' costs and your summer jobs had saved you enough to get you through college. Then, some other guy came with another alien army, and decided to take half the world with him – or whatever he did

The wrong half of the world, in your opinion. You could have lived without watching your sister's husband run her business into the ground. And life would have been a little easier if you didn't have to stretch yourself thin, to make sure your mother saw the next day.

"Then half the world came back," you continue, eyes focused on the cat. "And some random family showed up in my apartment. I'm pretty sure the husband had a heart attack when he saw me–"

Bucky places another beer in front of you. You hate the taste, but coffee on an empty stomach has never worked well for you.

"–so I moved," you take a final sip of your second beer, before placing it down and reaching for the one he just placed in front of you. "Now, I'm here. Stuck with a nosy neighbour and his cat."

"You can keep her." Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall next to you. Your shoulders brush. "I don't know the first thing about cats."

You frown and look up at him. "Barnes... You are cat. And I already have you, why would I want another one?"

He scoffs, blue eyes meeting yours. "I am not that kind of lady."

"Oh god," you roll your eyes.

"Gotta buy me dinner first, doll–"

"Not a doll."

"Maybe take me dancing," he continues, lips twitching at the sight of your scowl. "If you're lucky, I might invite you in for tea."

You glance at the coffee machine, still boxed, sitting on his counter but don't comment. You know what it means, you know why he bought it, and the thought alone makes you queasy.

So you look back at the cat, curled on your bare lap, and sigh. "Sorry I came in without pants."

You don't say anything else and he chuckles. He found you in nothing but an old shirt and socks that night, so he's not really surprised.

"Sorry I helped you without a shirt." He replies. He would've answered you immediately, the second you said his name, but he had to find pants first.

Silence falls between the both of you, and it takes actual effort for Bucky to look away from you. Tempering down the disappointment that has the audacity to knaw at you, at your stubbornness, you turn back to the screen of his laptop.

He was reviewing CCTV footage of your building's basement garage. Two hours into the viewing and he heard you calling him from the balcony, so he had to pause.

Now, four hours, three beers on your side and a weird trip down memory lane later – you're helping him sift through footage at a faster rate.

"So," you begin, eyes glued to the screen. "I have a question, about that whole serum thing."

"Hmm?" It's the first question you've ever asked about that part of him, that part of his history.

"How does it work when it comes to diseases?"

Blinking, Bucky has to pause the video to look at you. "Diseases?"

You nod. "Like flu, chicken pox, tonsillitis. You know, that stuff."

"I'm confused–"

"Do you not get it or does it run through you like water?"

"What?"

"Or does your immune system just basically butcher it within the hour?" You blink at him, eyes wide with curiosity. "'Cause like, I had this friend with one helluva immune system. He never got sick, so does it work like that?"

He pauses, lips pursing as he considers you. "Do you wanna know if my blood cells can cure AIDS?"

"If that were the case, you'd be in a CDC off-site lab right now–" you put down the beer you've been cradling. "–so, no. I wanna know what kind of illness can knock a super soldier out long enough for me to use it as an excuse."

He blinks. Once. Twice. "Huh?!"

"Saturday is in a few days."

Oh.

"What does that have to do with me?" His face scrunches up into the most confused expression you've ever seen.

"As we both know," you narrow your eyes at him. "Ever since you saved my life, like the asshole you are, my parents have taken a liking to you. And since I poisoned their favourite couple last week, I'm in deep shit this week unless I can find a good reason to not show up."

"I'm not gonna apologise for saving you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Of course not. That would mean admitting it was very selfish of you."

This is not how he expected this conversation to go. Or how he wanted it to go. So, he decides to turn back to the screen and continue watching the footage.

You know you struck a nerve, and it would be easier for you to blame it on the beer, but you can't. You want answers, just as much as he does.

You want to know what gave him the right to knock down your door, or the audacity to have his friend fly you to the hospital. He won't straight up tell you, you tried when you woke up in the ICU and found him there, and it pisses you off that he might not ever tell you.

Bucky frowns at the screen. "The camera's get switched off right after I leave–" he glances at you. "Did you bribe security to switch them off?"

"We have security?"

"The guys at the front desk?"

You frown at him. You know those guys, you bring them baked goodies from work three times a week.

"Hang on," you place the cat on the couch next to you, cross your legs and turn to move closer to him. "Let me get this straight."

Your knees gently press into his thigh and he forced to look at you.

"You're telling me that Laurence with sinuses, down in the lobby, and Percy with the three-legged rabbit. Those guys–" of course you'd know that. "–they're security? For this apartment building? We have security?"

"You can't be serious–"

"We have a biometric system at the door and like cameras, and a patrol car that frequents this neighbourhood–" you're pressing a little to hard on your fingers and he's worried you just might snap one off. "–what the hell do we need security guards for?"

You continue rattling off all the safety measures the building has, which means your fingers have to suffer throughout the list, unless he does something about it.

Which he does. Almost as if instinct, his hands are clasping yours before he can make the decision to reach for them. They're warm and cold against yours, but the right kind of warm and cold that makes you frown at them.

His hands swallow yours, which isn't something that surprises you. It's the way you're not pulling away, the way you're not fighting it, the way you can't blame the alcohol because it almost feels...normal.

You haven't felt normal in such a long time.

"You gonna stop tryna break your fingers?" Bucky starts. "Or do I have to stay like this 'til you knock out?"

You blink. "Does a concussion knock you out long enough to warrant an excuse?"

"You're relentless."

"Says the guy watching CCTV footage because of a cat."

"It's... For a good cause."

"Me missing Saturday dinner is a good cause, Barnes."

He sighs. "Doll–"

"–I'll owe you one."

Bucky is about to argue, his mouth was halfway open before your words registered. That's really what happened.

It's not like he was looking for an opening or anything. A way of asking you, that wouldn't resort in an argument or anything.

It's not like those were the words he's been waiting for, for quite some time now.

Not at all.

Of course not.

But, who is he to argue with the mysterious workings of a universe.

The room you're in is dimly lit, the only light originating from the kitchen and the streetlights. But you can still see that dangerous glint in his eyes.

He grins. "Is that right?"

You swear you heard yourself gulp.

-----

"Okay–" you're fidgety and anxious, and can't seem to stand still as the elevator doors close. "–now, let's go through this again. What's our exit strategy?"

Bucky turns to fully face you. He's been trying to keep you calm ever since the parking lot, but even he can admit that he was far too distracted to be helpful.

It wasn't even his fault he was distracted, it was completely yours. When he invited you to Sarah's party , the party celebrating the expansion of the success revamp of the boat business, he had said to dress comfortably.

Not dress like you were put on this Earth to be the end of him.

He was waiting in the parking lot, the same one that had the camera's switched off right after he left, when you came barrelling towards him.

You had narrowly escaped your sister. She was getting off the elevator just as you were nearing it, so you quickly opted for the staircase beside it. You were a flurry of floral black and white and pink in a summer dress, your hair barely in place – you tried using pins and thought about ribbons, but then forgot about them when you couldn't find your other shoe – as you basically pushed him inside the car.

You used the passenger window to try and fix your hair, as best as you could. And he spent the drive trying to reassure you that you looked fine.

You looked more than fine, but he couldn't seem to muster up the words.

"Doll–"

"Not a doll." Is your automated response.

"You look fine, " sweet as sugar, is what he wants to say. "And, well, there is no exit strategy."

You gape up at the mammoth of a man in front of you. His words, a ballad of heathens in your book, echoes in your head.

"No exit strategy?" You whine, fisting his shirt as you desperately meet his eyes. "Bucky, no. Please. You can't do this."

The elevator doors open before he can respond to you. Sam is waiting on the other side of the doors, champagne glasses in both hands.

Hands still gripping into Bucky's shirt, hair almost presentable, Bucky's face flushing from hearing you say his name, and your expression portraying pure fluster. You and Bucky both turn to find Sam staring at the scene in front of him.

His eyebrows shoot up, golden brown eyes lighting up at the sight. "Okay. This definitely makes up for you being late."

Bucky blinks, seeming to snap out of his stupor. "Wait, wha–"

"No–" Sam cuts in. "–I know how you 40s guys are about kissin' and telling. I won't pry."

"Hang on, Sam–"

"Bathroom's on the next floor," he has the audacity to grin. "Just be quick about it. The speech's in twenty minutes."

With that, he steps away from the elevator, gives a curt nod and – with a Cheshire grin – walks away.

You slowly peel your hands away from Bucky and take a few steps back.

Bucky clears his throat. "So, about the exit strategy..."

---

TAGS :D : @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel , @arctic-duchess , @sltwins , @thewayilookatbacon , @buckyisperfect , @paryl

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