#Nat: and Steve- you’re on thin ice buddy

[incorrect-multiverse]

Natasha: Every time I’m confronted with a problem that seems impossible, and I feel depressed and hopeless, I just look at this picture of us all together.

Stark/ Barton/ Banner: Awww.

Natasha: And I remind myself, if I can survive living with you clowns, I can handle anything.

Stark/ Barton/ Banner: :(

[diner-drama]

Cuddle Buddies (1/?)

"Cuddle Buddies: professional platonic cuddling therapy services for the busy modern professional" are an entirely legitimate organization serving the touch-starved. Look, it's just been a long time since Steve's been in a relationship, and a guy has needs, you know? Sometimes after a long day of being a strong, hard-nosed solicitor, weathering insults and attacks from the opposing counsel and your own coworkers, you just want to have someone stroke your hair and tell you you're good. Bucky loves his job as a professional cuddler, providing non-romantic physical touch to people that need it, and when his new client turns out to be a pint-sized spitfire with a smile to die for, that's just a bonus.

Also on ao3.

"Rumlow, if I wake up tomorrow to find out that you've thrown my client on an airplane and deported her in the middle of the night I will have your ass in front of the bar association before you can blink," barked Steve into the phone held between his ear and shoulder, trying to get his keys out of his pocket one-handed. "You really think they're going to let this slide after last time?"

He paused for a second as the person on the other end of the line made a few abortive attempts at a response, then cut him off. "I'm turning off my phone now. If you still want to talk in the morning after considering my offer you can call me then, but if you pull any of your bullshit in the meantime, I will fucking ruin you."

Steve hung up the call with a flourish and shouldered his front door open, throwing his phone into a basket on an occasional table before closing the door behind him and leaning against it, rubbing his eyes exhaustedly. Being a hard-ass human rights lawyer was all very well and good during the work day, but by the time he got home Steve was more than ready to shed his tough persona and let himself be soft.

The suit jacket was the first to go, shrugged off his slim shoulders and slipped onto a hanger. Then, his smart, shiny shoes were slipped off and replaced with warm, thick socks. He swapped his starched shirt for an old, lived-in hoodie, and his neatly pressed slacks for sweatpants. His black briefcase found a home in the spare room he used as an office, and he shut the door after it, mentally shutting away his work life. He ran his hand through his smartly-combed hair to muss it up and rolled his shoulders back, taking a few deep breaths and letting the stress of his day roll off him.

He wandered around the living room, picking up a blanket from the steamer trunk by the window, drawing the curtains, and switching on the electric fireplace which filled the space with warmth and low, flickering light. He picked up his personal phone from the coffee table and sent a quick text to Sam to let him know he made it home safely, sent a thumbs up to Darcy in response to a terrible meme she'd sent him, and briefly considered video calling Peggy before remembering that she was in a conference in Singapore.

He flopped down onto the couch and wrapped himself up tight in the blanket, enjoying its weight on his shoulders. Opening his laptop, he coughed in embarrassment when the tab that he'd opened in a fit of loneliness last night popped up. "Cuddle Buddies: professional platonic cuddling therapy services for the busy modern professional" seemed to be an entirely legitimate organization serving the touch-starved, and they had excellent reviews.

Look, it's just been a long time since Steve's been in a relationship, and a guy has needs, you know? Sometimes after a long day of being a strong, hard-nosed solicitor, weathering insults and attacks from the opposing counsel and your own coworkers, you just want to have someone stroke your hair and tell you you're good. Steve did his best to keep his work and home lives separate, but lately it was getting difficult to switch off from his worries when he was lying in bed at night, going over details from his cases while he tossed and turned on his pillows.

He scrolled through the information on the website one more time, thinking about how it might feel to invite a stranger into his home to cuddle him. Would it be uncomfortable? Would they think he was pathetic?

Putting aside the laptop for a minute, he ambled back into the kitchen to re-heat some shepherd's pie and put on the kettle for a cup of tea, climbing on a step stool to reach the mugs. His fingers and toes still a little chilly from the crisp autumn evening outside, he decided to fill up a hot water bottle, tucking it carefully into its fluffy case and holding it under his arm as he brought his dinner and drink back to the table. After a couple of bites of the pie, he pulled out a neat little wicker basket from under the table and took out his evening medications. Tapping the pills into his hand, he swallowed them with a gulp of tea and took a couple of huffs of his steroid inhaler for good measure, before getting back to his meal.

Steve may have lost the genetic lottery when it came to his height and his abysmal health, but the gods had seen fit to bless him with more than his share of sheer, bloody-minded scrappiness, which he felt more than made up for it.

Once he'd cleared the plate away and made himself a second cuppa, he opened up a book on his e-reader and held the comforting, warm weight of the hot water bottle to his chest, wondering idly, not for the first time, whether he should get a cat. He was a couple of chapters into a mediocre romance novel when he started tapping his fingers, thinking.

After a brief moment of indecision, he grabbed the laptop with renewed certainty and began to type a request into the website.

Bucky was just waving goodbye to Nat as he walked away from their session when his phone chimed, alerting him that there was a new customer inquiry that the agency wanted him to look at.

Maria: 28 yo man in Red Hook interested in trying cuddle therapy to help with work stress. Would prefer male therapist. Due to asthma, no cologne or scented products, and non-smokers only.

He smiled, and shot off a quick affirmative response. Maria often sent him their new clients - there was something about him that reassured people if they felt a little unsure about the services. Bucky was perfectly happy with his chosen profession - non-romantic physical touch was, in his opinion, essential for a happy life, and he got to provide it to people that needed it. Bucky liked to observe people and through his job he'd met a wide array of curious characters, so the work was never boring.

Also, the pay was amazing and Alpine would only eat the expensive cat food, so there was that.

He continued on his journey, enjoying the changing leaves on the trees around him and the chill in the air. Just as he was about to step onto the subway, his phone buzzed again, and after he found a seat he saw that Maria had sent him the phone number for his new client. He sent off his standard greeting straight away, eager to get his schedule firmed up.

Bucky: Hi Steve, this is Bucky from the Cuddle Buddies agency. When works for you for our first meeting? Looking forward to working with you!

Steve: Thanks for getting back to me. Saturday evening would be best for my schedule. Can I pay the $80 fee via bank transfer? -Steven Grant Rogers, Shield Solicitors

The response came immediately, and was far more businesslike than his usual interactions with clients. Still, Bucky could be businesslike. He even owned a tie.

Bucky: You sure can - the agency should send you out a contract tonight with the bank details. I can do Saturday at 7 if that suits.

Steve: Saturday at 7 sounds fine. What are the terms of the contract?

Of course, Mr. Lawyer Man wanted to know about the contract.

Bucky: It lays out what to expect in our interactions - we provide purely non-sexual services - as well as how to deal with cancellations, how we protect your privacy, and the billing structure.

Steve: Thank you. I look forward to meeting you on Saturday.

Bucky shook his head, wondering how this stuffy, formal guy was going to act during their cuddle session.

Steve didn't have the opportunity to start feeling anxious about his cuddle appointment because the negotiations with the lawyers at the ICE detention center took up every moment of his time. He was wrapping up his conversation with a client via email in his home office when his alarm chimed to let him know that he had half an hour until Bucky arrived.

After stretching his arms over his head, wincing at the tightness of his shoulders after slouching all day, he stripped out of the pajamas he was still wearing and indulged in a long, hot shower, scrubbing away his stress and emerging pink-cheeked and fluffy-haired. In his bedroom, he changed into a soft blue flannel shirt and a pair of pants that looked like slacks but felt like sweatpants, and another pair of his warm, fuzzy socks.

Pacing around his living room, his nerves ramping up, he selected a different blanket to leave ready on the couch and checked twice on his selection of teas. He had just put the kettle on to boil when the buzzer sounded.

On opening the door, he was immediately reassured to see that Bucky had a friendly, engaging grin, and was wearing a soft, knitted sweater. He held out a hand to shake and then immediately felt like an idiot, but Bucky just grasped Steve's cold hand with his warm one and squeezed it.

"Hi, you must be Steve," said Bucky with a pleasant Brooklyn drawl. Without being asked, he pulled a Cuddle Buddies ID card out of his pocket and handed it over to Steve, who checked the details on it and handed it back.

"Nice to meet you," said Steve stiffly. "Please, come on in. I'm just making a cup of mint tea, do you want one?"

"That'd be perfect, Steve. Mind if I take my shoes off?"

"Go ahead," replied Steve with a thin smile, attending to the whistling kettle.

"Thanks," said Bucky when he accepted his cup of tea. Steve couldn't help but notice that Bucky was wearing mis-matched but co-ordinating socks, one with red stars on a white background, and the other with white stars on a red background. He ushered Bucky to take a seat on the couch and sat in the armchair opposite. Bucky's posture was loose and open, but Steve was sitting bolt upright and jiggling his leg nervously. Fortunately, Bucky chose to take the lead in the conversation.

"So, I usually start first sessions with clients by talking about what your goals are for therapy," he began with a reassuring smile. "For example, some clients are looking to feel more comfortable with physical touch, some want to get over a breakup, or reduce stress, and some are just looking for companionship."

"I guess the companionship and stress things," said Steve after thinking for a moment. "My job takes a lot out of me, so I don't really have the time to pursue a relationship, but I do miss that human touch."

Bucky smiled gently, as though what Steve had said wasn't anything out of the ordinary. "What do you do?"

"I'm a lawyer, I mostly represent people who are in danger of deportation," said Steve automatically.

"That sounds rewarding," replied Bucky encouragingly.

"It is," agreed Steve, "but it's incredibly draining. I have to be so hard and tough all the time. Sometimes I think it would be nice to just be..." He tailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

"Soft?" supplied Bucky.

Steve smiled, feeling more comfortable despite his misgivings. "Yeah."

"Thank you for being so open with me, Steve," said Bucky, reaching over to squeeze Steve's knee. "If you don't have a particular preference for how we start, how about you join me on the couch and I put my arms around you. Does that sound good?"

Suddenly shy, Steve nodded and moved to sit next to Bucky, who immediately wrapped his big arms around Steve's shoulders and pulled Steve into his broad chest. As requested, Bucky wasn't wearing any fragrance, but he still smelled good, like fresh laundry and crisp autumn air, with an undercurrent of clean skin.

As he relaxed into Bucky's embrace, Steve tried to remember the last time he'd been held so gently. He was a regular recipient of Sam's big bear hugs and Darcy's chest-crushing squeezes, but he hadn't had a long-term romantic partner since law school, and his career didn't leave him a lot of free time to look for one.

"How does that feel?" asked Bucky in a low, soothing voice, gently rubbing at Steve's shoulder.

"Really good," breathed Steve.

"I'm glad," said Bucky gently. "How about I lie down on my back here and you snuggle up to my chest?"

Steve nodded his assent and Bucky released him slowly, and then rolled over to lie along the couch, opening up his arms so that Steve could slot himself in to rest his head on Bucky's warm chest. The knit of his sweater was soft against Steve's face, and one of Bucky's big hands came up to cup the back of Steve's head, rubbing small circles at the base of his skull with his fingertips.

"Thanks for not wearing cologne," said Steve, sounding muffled.

"Pal, I think you sneezing in my face would be worse for me than for you," laughed Bucky, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"It's not my sexiest move," agreed Steve, burrowing deeper into the soft warmth of Bucky's body.

Steve hadn't expected that conversation would carry on easily while they were cuddling - he predicted awkward silences and a feeling of general embarrassment - but they continued chatting while Bucky carded his fingers through Steve's hair, and he felt himself dropping deeper and deeper into a calm state of relaxation.

"So why'd you become a lawyer?" asked Bucky in a low voice, barely breaking into the spell he was casting over Steve.

"Ma came over here from Ireland to work as a nurse," replied Steve drowsily, "and when my pa died, she ran into some trouble with some of her immigration paperwork. There was a lawyer who worked pro bono to stop her from getting deported... the guy really changed our lives."

"So now you help other people the same way."

"I try to. How'd you get into professional cuddling?"

"After I got out of the army, I used to go for counseling sessions at the VA. Took a couple of years, but eventually I started on a course to be a counselor myself. A lot of those guys are so touch-starved, you know? My friend got the idea to start up a cuddling service and I jumped at the chance. It's been my full-time job for three years now."

Digesting this information, Steve was silent for a moment. He wouldn't have pegged Bucky as a soldier given how open and relaxed he was, but Sam didn't seem like an air force pilot, so you never knew. He cast around for a follow-up question. "Are there a lot of cuddling agencies in the world?" he settled on eventually.

"Oh yeah, it's a real growth industry. There's even a book called the Cuddle Sutra."

Steve scoffed. "You're kidding me, people write books about this stuff?"

Bucky cuffed him gently on the back of the head. "Shut up, punk. That's my profession you're besmirching."

"Are you allowed to tell your clients to shut up?" smirked Steve, never happier than when he was being a little shit.

"Only if they're being a punk," grumbled Bucky, wrapping an arm around the back of Steve's shoulders to pull him closer.

Over the course of the next forty five minutes, Steve learned more about Bucky's family, his asshole cat, his collection of semi-dead succulent plants, and his opinions on the present administration of the country. Bucky managed to wheedle Steve into talking about the bullying he faced at work, the stress of not having as many resources as he needed to help everyone he worked with - and he very nearly managed to get him to disclose his mother's recipe for shepherd's pie, and was only stopped by the threat that the ghost of Sarah Rogers would haunt him until he died.

Between the cozy warmth of Bucky's body, the soothing cadence of his voice, and the way his minty breath ghosted over Steve's forehead when he chuckled, Steve was pretty much in heaven, wrapped up in comfort. When Bucky's phone started to vibrate in his pocket, they both let out a little noise of annoyance.

"'Fraid that's my alarm. How'd you enjoy your first session?" asked Bucky, still stroking lines down Steve's back.

Steve hummed contentedly. "Worth every penny," he replied, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head.

"I'm really glad," said Bucky sincerely, squeezing his shoulder before standing up and heading towards his shoes. "Same time next week?"

"That'd be perfect. Thanks, Bucky. For everything."

"No problem," he replied with a genuine grin, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Now I'd better call Maria before she gets the cops after me to make sure I haven't been murdered in a back alley somewhere."

"I'm glad they care so much about your safety."

"I love my job," laughed Bucky as he let himself out the front door, waving goodbye to Steve as he put the phone to his ear.

Steve spent some time smiling and waving like a goof until Bucky rounded the corner, at which point he finally shook himself awake and shut and locked his door. It was only eight PM but after a few nights of fractured sleep he was ready to follow his relaxed, sleepy feeling straight to bed.

After he pottered around the room, straightening up and putting things away, he brushed his teeth and jumped onto his big, comfortable bed, where he rolled himself up in his comforter like a burrito. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

[itsanerdlife]

It’s Complicated 21/25

Pairing: Clint Barton x Fisk Niece!Reader

A/N: Reader is Wilson Fisk’s Niece. I’m tired of the same old villains so keep your eyes peeled for who just might be the one lurking in the dark.

Warning: This is very match and lighter fluid type of burn. Feels of abandonment. Talks of Psychopaths. Overprotective male. Lies. Secrets. Language. Kidnapping. Violence. I think that’s about it.

Sometimes in life there are just certain people worth breaking the rules for. No matter the hell that may rain down. Is it possible to fall in love with someone in just a matter of one conversation? To be utterly and completely obsessed with someone in a matter of weeks? But what if they aren’t who you think they are? What if one day the person you love, they just disappear? Learning to live again is a bitch. Specially just when you think you’re doing fine, he shows up on your doorstep. Wanting to explain his secrets. But now you’ve got your own secrets but do you really ever just get over that type of love? Can you really just move on and pretend it never happened? Even when you’re carrying around proof inside you?

Tag List Is Open

When the elevator announces their arrival, they head into the kitchen. Nat jumps up quickly from the table.

“I swear you get bigger every time we see you.” She gushes, hugging Y/N before she moves Y/N’s belly.

“You know what I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Y/N laughs.

“It means my favorite little man is getting bigger.” Nat coo’s, all soft for her nephew.

“Is it weird seeing Romanov, all soft?” Tony asks looking at Buck.

“Tony I’ll kill you in your sleep.” Nat snaps a glare in his direction. Tony swallows, leaning back slowly.

“We wanted to tell you something.” Clint smiles at her.

“Actually,” her mode shifts just a little chilly towards him “Wanda and I did some shopping for the baby. Let her show you everything.” Nat nods, Wanda hurries out of her seat, she grabs Y/N’s hand. She laughs following Wanda into the living room. “Not you, Barton. We need to talk.” She hisses, her hand on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” He eyes her.

“Y/N sweetie, I need to talk to Clint. We’ll be right there.” Nat calls.

“She’s fine.” Sam calls back, letting him know it wasn’t a rush. Buck sighs, following as Nat grips the front of Clint’s shirt, yanking him after her.

“Easy, Nat.” Clint huffs. When he tugs away, she catches his arm. Shoving him, he turns, his arm snaps back pinned behind him. His cheek against the wall, in a way trapped. “Ah, Nat. Need that arm. Having a baby soon.” He pants softly, wincing at the position his arms in.

“Oh you remember that? You having a baby, a damn good woman?” Her tone pissed. “One who took your stupid ass back and is giving you a family without batting an eye.” She grinds out.

“You’re making valid points here, but not for nearly breaking my arm.” He points out.

“Are you fucking stupid, Barton? Going after Cross? When you know he’s a psycho and weirdly obsessed with Y/N?” She hisses at him.

“Buck, we really need to talk about keeping secrets.” Clint huffs.

“I told you, it was a stupid idea.” Buck shrugs.

“Cross, has a guard on his tab.” Nat lets go, her tone annoyed still. “Maria’s office was raided. Someone’s looking into your girl.” Nat folds her arms over her chest.

“Son of a bitch.” Clint slams his hand against the wall, before pushing off it. “He’s going to plan an escape.” He spins looking at Nat.

“Can’t.” Buck smirks.

“How?” His eyes flick between them.

“I personally put Cross in solitary myself. Sam has a buddy on security, no contact.” Buck nods.

“So who the fuck is looking into her?” Clint scraps his hand down his face.

“No idea.” Nat shakes her head. 

“She’s getting close to being due, Barton.” Buck points out.

“Less than three months.” Clint nods.

“Fury’s put you on early maternity leave. Stick to her like glue.” Nat warns him. “We’ll keep looking.” She nods.

“You don’t think,” Clint pauses “her uncle?” He looks at them.

“I’ll take a visit up there, double check.” Nat assures him.

“Hey.” She appears at the end of the hallway, hands on her hips. “You’re not spilling the secret are you?” She smirks at him.

“Never.” He grins at her.

“Everything okay?” Her head tips looking between them.

“Bad news about Cross, babe.” He sighs, heading for her. “Got caught trying to plan an escape. He’s in solitary. No more interviewing.” He reaches her, brushing her hair back from her face.

“You know, it’s okay. Maybe I should stop till after he’s here. He’s so distracting when I’m trying to be on my A game.” She nods, looking down at her hands on her belly.

“He just needs all the attention.” Nat grins. “He’s like Clint, already.” She laughs.

“So she was right, he’s going to be six foot, blonde and run around the city in tights.” Buck laughs.

“Thin ice already Barnes.” Clint shoots him a glare.

“I heard the word secret.” Nat perks up.

“Like a bloodhound.” Clint laughs.

“Oh I have a good question.” Y/N turns shuffle, running, slightly waddling into the living room. Buck laughs following with them. Clint shakes his head, Nat practically beams.

“If you had to summon Nat, what three things would you use?” She asks, taking a seat again.

“Secrets.” The room replies at the same time. Nat scuffs, rolling her eyes.

“Your baby.” Steve snorts. Nat shrugs, nodding.

“Bucky shirtless.” Wanda snickers, folding baby clothes.

“I’m still on this secret thing.” Nat points out, dropping into a chair.

“We picked a name.” Clint chuckles, taking the seat next to Y/N.

“Tell us.” Wanda claps excitedly, Nat sits up, a faint smile on her lips.

“Well we agreed his last name would be Barton.” Y/N nods, looking over at him. “We haven’t settled on a middle name, yet but.” She nudges him with her shoulder.

“Y/N came up with his first name. We decided on, Nathan.” He nods, looking around. Others are grinning.

“Nathan Barton. Strong name.” Steve smiles, kissing Y/N’s cheek.

“I picked Nathan because it’s the male version of Natasha. We could call him Nate for short.” Y/N smiles at Nat.

“Nat?” Clint smirks at her. She’s pink in the cheeks, her mouth sealed shut, like she was struggling. “Don’t you cry.” He grins. She moves, sucker punching him in the shoulder.

“Shut up Barton.” She croaks. Clint silently winces, turning he buries his face into Y/N’s shoulder trying to not laugh.

“So I love MJ, don’t get me wrong. But being that he’s part of this, world.” She glances around. “I was thinking you’d be his god parents.” She nods, his head comes up. Surprised, she hadn’t told him that. “I just mean, if anything happened. He isn’t exactly normal, but not anything weird. You’d be the best for him.” She shrugs.

“I’ll be, I have to,” Nat sniffs, getting up she’s out of the room quickly.

“I think her phones ringing.” Buck nods, not making eye contact.

“I mean we can change the name.” Y/N looks a little nervous. Buck’s phone dings a moment later.

“She said don’t think about it.” Buck looks up from his phone.

“Now just a middle name.” Clint laughs.

“If you say coffee or pizza, I’m going to let Nat punch you again.” Y/N blinks at him. He grins, leaning in to kiss her.

------------------------

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It's Complicated: @amberkay284 @capandbuckylvr @optimistic-babes @jennmurawski13 @bradfordbantams @natromanoffsboys @thosesexytexasboys @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth

[spidergwenstefani]

Finals Week

This is a really self-indulgent semi sequel to this ficlet I wrote a little while ago about theatre major Bucky and frat bro Clint. Apparently this is gonna be the AU i use for pointless fluffy comfort now bc I’m stressed with finals essays and these boys are helping.

I definitely shifted some background characters around since the last fic sorry steve but i don’t super care so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bucky spins his desk chair around in a lazy circle, watching the moon shining through his apartment window blur into a bright stripe with the rest of his surroundings. Someone on the floor above him has tuned their Spotify to some kind of low-fi study playlist, and Bucky feels genuinely relaxed for the first time in… months, actually.

This last week has been rough. Nearly all of his finals ended up scheduled on the same Friday and Natasha had to actually hold him back from leaping out the library window on Thursday night. It worked out alright. The Lighting Design 201 presentation had gone off shockingly well, the History of Stage Design final was way easier than expected, and his group project for Gender in Shakespeare really pulled through in the end. He half-assed the conclusion for his Dramaturgy essay, but there was only so much he could say about August Wilson without the professor realizing he was just spitting his class notes back at him. So now he’s done. A whole five days before the semester ends, too. It feels like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off Bucky’s shoulders. He hums along to the slow jam echoing down from his upstairs neighbor, scooping up his phone to check his messages.

Nat (3 hours ago) Congrats on being done with finals

Nat (3 hours ago) If you didn’t turn that gd Fences essay in on time I will climb in through your window and strangle you in your sleep

Steve (2 hours ago) Hey! Me and some buddies were planning on going out for pizza around 7 tomorrow. Do you wanna come with? You can bring Clint so you don’t have to listen to grad students all night.

Steve (2 hours ago) Please say yes. I don’t want to listen to grad students all night.

Nat (42 minutes ago) Have you heard from Clint? He hasn’t answered my texts in hours. Not sure if I should be concerned

Nat (40 minutes ago) Send him a dick pic and see if that gets a response

Clint (3 minutes ago) im fckin dropping uot

Bucky ignores Steve and Natasha for now, typing out a quick response to Clint.

Bucky Well I’m done with finals

Bucky Can I convince you to stay in college with some fantastic Fuck Dramaturgy victory sex?

Clint i dont kno what htat is

Bucky I’ve explained Dramaturgy to you like five times

Clint i cant remembr

Clint what day is it

Clint bucky im dyin :’(

Bucky rolls his eyes, grabbing the keys off his desk and pulling on his sneakers. He would have preferred to avoid the Greek side of campus today if at all possible, but he has an idiot boyfriend to console.

Bucky omw

>>==========>

Beta Theta Pi is, as far as frat houses go, not the absolute worst. It had still been kind of a shock when Bucky realized Clint actually lives up to his frat bro vibes. Not only lives up to them but embraces them with the same enthusiasm Clint has for any other thing he cares about. Bucky could probably do PR for the Beta charity drives by now after how much Clint has gushed about them. Lord knows he’d do a better job than fucking Pietro.

Bruce answers the door on Bucky’s third knock, looking surprised to see him and vaguely stoned.

“Bucky?” he says after he gets a few blinks out of his system. Bucky wonders if it’s such a good idea to be smoking in his letterman jacket. Coach Fury’s been known to have a nose like a bloodhound. “Clint didn’t say you were coming over.”

“Has he said anything at all in the last twelve hours?” Bucky asks, shouldering past Bruce because he knows he won’t move on his own. Bruce is actually his favorite of Clint’s brothers. He’s chiller than any offensive lineman has a right to be. He does yoga, for fuck's sake. It’s probably the copious amounts of weed that mellow him out in the end, though.

“I dunno,” Bruce says, still blinking his way back to the present. He gives Bucky a slow smile as he shuts the door behind them. “Do you want tea? I made tea.”

“Maybe later,” Bucky says, because he’s just spotted Rumlow studying at the dining table and that’s the one Beta guy he genuinely doesn’t want to see today. He heads for the stairs.

“Wanna play Smash Bros?” Bruce asks as Bucky bolts for the second floor.

“Maybe later,” he shouts over his shoulder.

Clint’s room is at the far end of the hallway, and Bucky frowns at the closed door. Clint’s the kind of endearingly codependent guy that keeps his door open unless absolutely necessary, never wanting to miss out on anything that might be blocked by a thin layer of wood.

He knocks more as a warning than anything, letting himself in and shutting the door softly behind him. All the lights are off and nothing but moonlight illuminates Clint spread dramatically across the floor, staring up at his ceiling fan like he’s hoping it’ll fall on him.

“Fucking Christ,” Bucky mutters, mostly because he’s not sure Clint even heard him come in.

“I’m gonna die,” Clint answers from the floor. “Statistics is actually gonna kill me.”

“You can’t die,” Bucky says, leaning back against the door. “My mom will be crushed if I don’t bring you home for spring break.” The moonlight is making the angles of Clint’s face look especially soft, and Bucky takes a moment to watch him pout before sinking down onto the floor.

“No, it’s too late. I’m dying,” Clint says, shifting to make room on the rug as Bucky crawls over to him. He wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and plants a quick kiss on his forehead before turning his glazed look back up at the ceiling fan. “You’ll come to my funeral, right?”

“Obviously,” Bucky snorts, sliding his hands under Clint’s t-shirt. He knows his fingers are ice cold, but Clint doesn’t even flinch.

“Wear black, okay? Something sexy, so my enemies get jealous of the hot piece of ass I bagged before kicking the bucket.”

“Should I cry?” Clint hasn’t seen Bucky act yet, but he’s totally going to audition for The Laramie Project next semester and blow his fucking mind.

“As much as possible. Maybe mention how much you’ll miss my massive dick.”

“I will,” Bucky says emphatically. He looks up at the ceiling fan and takes a deep breath, doing his best to bring tears to his eyes. “I’ll never love another dick as much as I loved his.” Bucky’s voice comes out impressively choked up. “I’m cursed to a life of longing. The only man who can satisfy me is lost forever.” Bucky blinks a single tear down his cheek, and Clint’s staring at him when he finally turns back.

“Holy shit,” Clint says, moving to wipe at Bucky’s cheeks like he’s actually worried about him. “Do exactly that, please. When did you learn how to cry on command?”

“When my third sister was born,” Bucky answers smugly. “I didn’t appreciate how much more attention tutus and pigtails got, so I had to find my own edge.”

“Becca’s sent me a few pictures that say you still cashed in on tutus and pigtails.” Clint rolls onto his side so he can face Bucky better, pulling him closer with a hand around his waist.

“I rocked those butterfly clips better than she could ever dream,” Bucky says, and Clint buries his laugh in Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky runs a hand up and down Clint’s back. “What day is your Stats final?” That earns him a despondent groan.

“Monday. I’m so gonna fail.” Clint’s voice is muffled by Bucky’s sweatshirt. “Why the fuck did I decide on a Business major?”

“Because you’re smart,” Bucky insists. Clint shakes his head weakly against his shoulder and Bucky smacks him lightly on the arm. “You are. You’re smart and practical, and once you have your diploma you and Nat can move to New York and open your gym.”

Clint mumbles something into his sweatshirt that Bucky doesn’t quite catch.

“What?” he asks, and he tugs the back of Clint’s shirt just enough to get him to scoot backward and speak clearly.

“I said you’ll be there too,” Clint repeats, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Bucky’s side and making an effort to keep his eyes anywhere but on Bucky’s. “Designing costumes on Broadway. Having a meltdown every other day.”

“Exactly,” Bucky says, and Clint looks up long enough to give him a hesitant smile. “And on tech week I’ll gripe to you all night long and make you rub my feet.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Clint says, and his voice is too soft to be joking. Bucky leans forward to kiss him. Clint brings his hand up to Bucky’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek while they lose themselves for a moment or two.

“It’ll be awesome,” Bucky says once he’s pulled away. “And all you have to do is pass one dumb Stats final. It’s all easy street after that.”

“No it’s not,” Clint says, but his face doesn’t seem quite as pinched with worry. Bucky shrugs one shoulder.

“Maybe not, but this is all you have to think about right now. And even if you don’t pass, which you will, Momma Barnes will be waiting at the train station, ready to fill that void of disappointment with cookies and brisket. They offer Stats over the summer. You can even get Bruce to help you study.”

Clint smiles a little easier and presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

“Bruce offered to help me study earlier this week, actually.” Bucky raises his eyebrows at him.

“And you’re not taking him up on it? Bruce is pretty much Einstein. You know that, right? What are you doing in here when you could be getting schooled on Stats in the library?”

“Well, you’re here,” Clint says and Bucky just knows his smile goes all dopey at that. “And I think even Einstein would struggle with Stats after smoking that much weed.”

“You’ll study with him tomorrow though, right?” Bucky’s not going to let Clint throw him off that easy. Clint rolls his eyes, but he nods. “Steve invited us to get pizza tomorrow. I’ll pay, as a reward for studying.”

“Steve invited us, or Steve invited you?” Clint asks, scrunching up his nose. Bucky snorts, shoving at Clint half-heartedly.

“Steve invited us. To go out with him and his friends. I dunno why you hate him so much. He thinks you’re pretty cool.”

“I don’t hate him,” Clint says defensively, but he still shifts forward to wrap his arms possessively around Bucky. “I just want to make sure he knows that the position of Bucky’s Buff Blond Boyfriend is already happily filled. Also, fuck him. I’m really cool.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky says. He’s kind of stuck in Clint’s steel trap of a hug. “It’s not like that. First of all, I don’t date grad students, and second of all we totally have more of a big brother-little brother sort of thing going on. I think he’s more into Tony, anyway.”

“Aw, gross,” Clint laughs, letting Bucky out of his death grip. “They deserve each other.”

“People probably say the same thing about us,” Bucky says. Clint grins at him, opening his mouth to share some kind of smart-ass response. A knock on the door cuts him off and makes them both jump.

“Do you guys have pants on?” Bruce’s voice comes through the door way louder than necessary. “If you don’t, sorry. Keep doing your thing or whatever. We’re starting a new Smash tournament, though, if you wanna join.”

“No, Bruce. C’mon man,” Bucky hears Sam say, and there’s the sound of scuffling feet like Sam’s trying to yank Bruce back from the door. “They’re probably having their own Smash tournament in there.”

“Bucky would have invited me,” Bruce insists, and Clint sits up with a laugh.

“We have pants on, Bruce,” he calls, and the door opens a moment later.

“Are you guys just sitting in the dark?” Bruce frowns down at Bucky, who’s still sprawled across the rug.

“Yeah,” Clint says, and then because he catches Bucky’s meaningful look, “Are you busy tomorrow? Think you could help me with Stats?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, smiling easily. Bucky thinks Clint looks relieved, like he actually thought Bruce might say no. “We can go to the library.”

“Alright, Bruce.” Bucky stands up, offering a hand and hauling Clint to his feet too. “Let’s smash. I call the pink controller.”

[tarithenurse]

New Years Eve

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Avenger!Reader Content: Pining, fluff, lemons. Don’t read if you’re not old enough. A/N: Refound the draft for this which I must have started back in December 2017. Thought it was about time to finish it...even if it’s not really NY Eve soon. And still...didn’t do proper proof reading. Sorry.

”The party of the year”, had been the way Tony described it when he secured your attendance for his New Years bash more than two months ago. Since then, you’d only heard rumours about the plans, and you’d been too preoccupied about getting through your solo-mission to spare a thought. That’s why you’d more than happily accepted when Wanda and Natasha had offered to sort whatever was needed that night.

Leaning back in the car seat, you really hope your two friends and co-Avengers have kept their end of the promise, whatever it might entail. No texts or calls have come your way which had been rather relaxing. For a while. Now not so much. Both Wanda and Nat are perfectly capable of being reasonable adult with common sense, but sometimes they end up in a mood where they wind each other up. Add Clint to the mix and the result will be disastrous, yet brilliant, pranking. For all you know, you might be on the way back to a cellophane covered room and a New Year’s outfit suitable for disguising the wearer as a flamingo.

...

Even after very careful inspection of your rooms, you’ve not been able to find any pranks lurking. And the outfit? It couldn’t have been better which is good because a few hours from arrival to party-start wouldn’t have left you with a whole lot of option. Why not re-use a dress or something? That’s what you normally would, but in usual Stark style the party has to be themed and this time it’s “animals” – hence the worry about the flamingo. But you’re in luck and the outfit is perfect.

More than perfect, you admit to yourself as you smooth a hand over the tightfitting number you’ve wriggled into. Tiny, faux scales in an oily-black shade is covering your body, only broken by the plunging cleavage and daring slit at along the thigh and a series of red accents that shimmer like fire across you chest and hips. Unfortunately, it does little to steel your nerves. It’s too…too…little! You feel exposed, naked.

A knock on the door barely precedes Natasha and Wanda who come barging in. They’re ready to go (one as a tiger and the other representing her alias’ namesake) and are here to put the last touches to their plan.

…

“I feel…like someone else!”

The woman staring back at you from the mirror is perfect. Dark makeup compliments the outfit (normally you’d only go as wild as mascara), and the usually unruly hair has been tamed into a surprisingly long, sleek braid that on its own looks like the snake you symbolize.

“You don’t like it?” Wanda cocks her head, causing the plushy tiger-ears to wobble endearingly.

You frown at the mirror. “I…I do! It’s just so…not how I normally look…” Do you? “That there,” you gesture helplessly, “she’s…I mean…hot and I’m not.”

“Jeez, good thing we got you sorted then.” Natasha’s adjusting the red/black corset one last time but spares a glance in your direction. “It’s about time you see what everyone else sees.”

Everyone? There’s no room in your head to consider the possible implications of that, so you try to ignore the hot bubble of nerves in your stomach. It’s just Nat and Wanda saying it. They’re your friends. Supportive, sweet, honest…but not objective. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of the guys would claim you were pretty either. Like Tony, he compliments anyone he meets on their outfits or whatnot (even if there’s nothing new about it), and Thor and Steve are the biggest sweetheart although one is quiet and the other is boisterous about it. Yeah, but what about Sam. And there you go, thinking exactly what you didn’t want to.

Sam used to be your friend. A buddy you hung out with and who showed you the ropes when you joined the Avengers. You still try to do that, but each moment around him is close to painful because you don’t see him as a casual friend anymore. You should because that’s what you guys are…but it’s not enough. What you feel for him is so much more. Trusting him with your life would be the easiest thing. And there’s no limit to what you’d do for him both in the field and outside to make sure he is safe and happy. Fuck.

“Hey! Viper, where you at?” Nat’s voice reaches through the swirling thoughts.

Both ladies are waiting at the open door, ready to head out. Mumbling an apology, you hurry after them, hoping they don’t notice your quickened breath and pulse.

“Why a black snake?” Standing in the elevator, it’s only now that it strikes you as odd. “I mean…as Viper it would make sense to use that for the animal tonight.”

“People might get suspicious,” Wanda shrugs, busy inspecting her nails.

Nat’s busy looking for something in her tiny purse but manages to talk past a thin knife: “Bwe’ide, ‘omeone elwe claimed it.”

…

You’d been lucky that there already were plenty people at the venue, meaning you could snake in between the other guests and head straight for the bar (ditching your friends at the same time).

“Gin ‘n tonic, please.”

Waiting for the drink, you look around the place. It’s busy, both at the bar running the length of the ball room, but also at the place in general. Hundreds of people are milling about, snatching canapés from trays carried by various birds (not actual birds, but waiters dressed as flamingos, cranes and so on). Huge tables with champagne pyramids is the only “classic” New Year’s theme while the place has been invaded by what appears to be an entire jungle. Lush green plants and exotic flowers create section in the large area while trees and hanging plants mingle above the heads of the guests, infiltrating the chandeliers to the point where you don’t think they will ever get free again.

“There y’are!” Nat’s smoky voice curls around you together with your arm. “Found the others by the palm trees. Steve’s a cat with yarn and all.”

It’s impossible not to take than bait, so you let her lead the way as soon as you got the cool drink in hand. They’re a sight to behold. Not just Steve the Kitten, but also Tony the Unicorn (sporting a long horn with which he attempts to skewer hors d’oeuvres when Pepper the Peacock isn’t looking) and well, probably everyone, but of course your mind is being silly and making sure to get stuck on the sight of the one person you shouldn’t watch.

Hot damn. Green scales glitter in the light as they adorn Sam’s suit, making it looks as if a viper’s curling around his body in a way you wouldn’t mind mimicking. No! I shouldn’t think that. At least he hasn’t noticed you because he’s too busy examining the rear end of Tony.

“You installed cooling?” His warm voice muffled by the fake tail hanging down.

“Wha’?! He’s got air-con?!” An edge of betrayal is powering Rhodes’ disbelief. “Man, you said I couldn’t get my exo cooled!” Hurrying over to take a look through Stark’s rear, he pushes Sam aside.

“Hey! Wa–” But Sam never gets further.

His eyes are scorching your skin but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Out of sheer nervousness, you fidget with the metal straw in the drink, almost inhaling the clear liquid. Suddenly, the dress is too revealing, causing your guts to clench in a desperate plea for hiding, but the moment you try to move to get a bit behind Nat and Bucky, you feel the air breeze through the slit. Shit. Heat is rushing through your body.

“You’re looking good.” It’s Steve. “Like what Wanda and Nat have done, sticking with the venomous snake theme.” His friendly chuckle helps you soften up a bit as memories of your old life flashes by.

Growing up in the slums in the biggest city in South America had taught you a lot – even more so during the hardest periods where you stole away to survive in the jungle instead, figuring it was safer than being near the gangs and drug cartels. In hindsight, neither option could’ve been considered safe, but that was at least you learned enough to eventually take up the fight. Try to protect innocent people from the violent crime lords. That’s how you’d gotten onto the Avengers’ radar. Why they came to capture you. It was a good thing Clint had been there on that trip because he convinced the others to bring you back.

“Thanks. Feels odd not to wear something more…practical.”

A broad smile flashes. “I get it. Penguin suits are fine, but they aren’t made for moving.”

“That too.” Need to get away. “’Scuse me.”

Slipping away between the myriad of guests, you circle the room once while pretending to admire the decorations. In reality, you’re scoping the place for quiet corners and easy escape routes. But soon enough your feet are carrying you back to the bar for a refill. From there it’s possible to see most of the room…including the random flashes of a familiar green. My colour.

…

How can it not be near midnight?! It’s never been this awkward hanging out with the team. Sure, the chatting and fun is still going on…it’s just you that finds it hard to feel comfortable in your own skin as long as your near Sam. You’d tried talking to him, pretending everything’s fine. Normal. No unrequited love tearing you up from the inside, making it feel like someone has dripped your old venoms straight into your heart.

So you try to spend your time on the dance floor where no one expects you to carry on a conversation as you can lose yourself in the rhythms. Otherwise it’s the bar that calls, luring you with cold G&Ts until your head is buzzing comfortably. Not drunk…because you never know what can happen. 4th of July was bad, you remember, pushing the ice cubes around in the tall glass.

A delicate but strong hand clamps onto your shoulder, startling you.

“Relax, hon, just me.” The redhead takes a seat beside you. “Do you want me to ask or are you just gonna talk?”

“’Bout what?”

You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s rolling the eyes. “Why you moping.”

“Oh.” The straw clinks against your teeth. She’s bluffing. “Ask away. Doesn’t mean I got anything to tell.”

Somehow managing not to spill the martini, Nat whips around to face you. “Right, of course not. ‘Cause it’s not like you’ve been harbouring a huge crush on a special gentleman.” Your glare doesn’t discourage her. “Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly.” And with that she floats away, drink in one hand and hips swaying elegantly to the music.

…

Dancing with Steve is an interesting experience: as physically gifted as he may be, this is one thing he has a hard time getting the hang on although he does his best to follow your instructions while both of you are grinning like fools, the ending of the song still brings a certain relief. Until you turn around straight into Sam’s arms. For a second, he seems just as baffled as you do, but then his trademark crooked grin lights up his face.

“Guess there’s no way about it now…wanna dance?” A warm hand is already skimming along your hip although the other waits for your decision.

It’s odd how perfectly his fingers fit around yours, how his arms seem to create a bubble of calmness that seeps into you until your breath is even and your heartbeat follows an unheard rhythm. Fingers with blood-red nails slither across venomous-green faux scales until coming to a rest on Sam’s shoulder.

“Didn’t know you liked that colour.” It looks amazing on him. “You should use it in your uniform.”

They’re playing an old Frank Sinatra song that you’ve heard a million times, allowing your brain to switch off and Sam to lead you effortlessly.

“I’ve thought about it…didn’t wanna to steal from you, tho’.”

He twirls you in his arms before dipping you, causing your heart to pound rapidly against the ribs so hard he might hear it (especially considering how close to your cleavage his ear is). Not like you haven’t stolen anything already.

“Oh, is that so?” Pulling you back up, chest against chest, it’s evident that you must have spoken your thoughts. “What’d I steal, babe?”

Babe. Sure, he’s used nicknames before. He’s the master of thinking up witty monikers for everyone on the team and failing that there’s always the classical endearments which he freely uses for everyone. This time, though, it’s spoken in a soft purr that makes it sound anything like the usual banter. You can’t take your eyes off him as your try to kick your brain back into action. A quick sweep of the tongue to get your mouth working brings back the taste of lipstick and G&T, brings Sam’s focus onto the red colour adorning your lips and his eyes darken momentarily.

Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly. Nat’s words echo in your mind and small details that you’ve never really given much thought start to fall into place. The way Sam always makes sure there’s a spot on the couch on movie nights, or how he somehow checks in a bit more frequently on missions than with the others. He even knows how you like your tea and coffee, despite the fact that you aren’t sure yourself.

“Sam…” you bite your bottom lip, still nervous.

“[Y/N]?”

Somewhere outside the bubble he’s created, the music is still playing, and people are getting closer to the new year, but inside, it’s just the two of you standing closer than humanly possible, allowing your lips to brush easily over his. Maybe the soft sigh is from him, it doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he recaptures your lips to deepen the kiss is important. His hand travels up the back to cradle your neck, the other arm drawing you closer.

…

The party is far away across town when the new year approaches. Clothes are discarded around the familiar room as Sam looks at you from under heavy lips. His hand is resting on your head that bobs slowly in unison with your hand. Each time the tip of your tongue twirls around the crown of his cock he hums in approval and you can feel his muscles work under the free hand you’re supporting yourself with partially.

His erection twitches as moans become groans, maybe spurred on at the quiet laughter you can’t hold back. It’s exhilarating to have such power over him, but next moment it’s gone as he pulls your away. Sam’s got you on your back quicker than you’d anticipated, lips trailing hot over the goosebumps covering your body and then…then he’s the one in control as mouth, tongue and fingers play you like an instrument, coaxing sounds from you that increasingly sound like his name. Sound like begging.

Your limbs are shaking when he pulls you onto his lap. Hands on your hips, the gorgeous man allows you to set the pace after he has aligned the throbbing cock with your wet core, and as you finally glide down the shaft, as he fills you up more than anyone has before, both of you cling on.

Open mouths breathing hard. Sweat glistening on skin. Moans. Strangled cries of pleasure. Partially suspended above your arching body, your name tumbles from Sam’s lips while his hips rock into you. Harder, faster. Your legs are on the verge of cramping from the iron hold around his waist, ankles locking behind his backs while your nails are digging into his shoulder blades.

Outside the window, fireworks light up the night sky, their explosions nearly drowned out by his name as you both tumble over the edge and into the hazy sea of bliss.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Royal, part eight

Summary: Freya and the rest catch up with Steve and his team.

Warnings: violence and swearing

Word count: 2122

Tony barked out orders as everyone prepared to leave the jet. We knew Steve and the others were there and everyone was hell bent on taking them in today. I on the other hand kept trying to figure out a plan to make them stop the fight. However, T'Challa was my biggest concern. Everyone wanted to capture them, but he was out for blood and that made him dangerous. I had to protect my own, no matter what.

We made a formation, standing one by one, creating a sort of boundary for Steve and the others. I took in a deep breath when Steve strode under the underpass, jogging onto a runway in his suit. I wasn't sure if he noticed me, but my heart was beating so fast for more reasons than one. I was scared..for the first time in a long time. I was afraid of him getting hurt, Bucky dying. I was no longer the fearless assassin, rather just a girl who still loved a man who was too torn between his past and present to completely give himself to her.

„Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?“ Tony sassed and I rolled my eyes at him.

„Definitely weird.“ Rhodes added, trying to seem cool. Ugh..I wasn't a big fan of the man to be honest. It felt like he was Tony's puppy and I never quite liked people with no backbone.

„Hear me out, Tony. That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this.“ Steve spoke up and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. What did he mean by that?

T'Challa joined us, leaping over a truck with small thud once he hit the ground. „Captain.“ He acknowledged him and I took a step forward much to everyone's dismay.

„Your highness.“ Steve spoke, a little sarcastically. He wasn't a fan of T'Challa and I couldn't blame him, after all, he was trying to kill his best friend.

„Anyway, Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?“ Tony tried to defuse the situation, seeing how things could get very very ugly. I strategically moved closer to T'Challa, hoping I'd be able to block his attack if it came to it. I was still hurt, but I had to fight. I had to. Steve seemed to notice me, but he knew my plan right away. I could see it in his eyes, I always could read him like an open book. It's one of the things I loved most about him.

„You're after the wrong guy.“ Steve stated and Tony scoffed.

„Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.“ Tony pointed out, acting a little high and mighty and I had to suppress an urge to splash him with water as the gesture seemed to bring him back to Earth in the past.

„And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't.“ My eyes widened at this new piece of information and Steve noticed me freeze at this. They were still alive? All of them? My past experience with the rest of the winter soldiers wasn't as nice as it was with Bucky. If you could call that past nice, because I got my ass handed to me on a daily bases.

„Steve… you know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?“ Natasha questioned, subtly hinting I was still hurt and unable to properly defend myself. Steve's eyes were on me, watching my every move. He could tell I wasn't a hundred percent, but he knew better than anyone just how much Bucky meant to me. He knew I was the only person in this world who understood him and I was ready for a fight even if it killed me.

„All right, I've run out of patience. Underoos!“ Tony called for the new kid and he shot a web, stealing Steve's shield. If it were any other day, I would have laughed but this was no laughing matter. Not the time and not the place.

„Nice job, kid.“ Tony praised him and I shot a look to the teenager. Steve was confused, unaware of this new arrival, but he was prepared for anything. He always was.

„Thanks. Well, I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit… Well, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's-It's perfect. Thank you.“ Peter rambled on, his squeaky voice making my head hurt a little. Don't get me wrong, I liked the kid, but I wasn't up for his eager beaver nature today.

„Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation.“ Tony waved him off and Peter turned to Steve a little starstruck.

„Okay. Cap… Captain. Big fan, I'm Spider-Man.“ Steve nodded as the kid waved at everyone. He was too adorable for this line of business. Why did I let Tony bring a kid to a superhero all out war? 

„You've been busy.“ Steve noted and I sighed.

„And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep… I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.“ Yeah right, and I'm the queen of England.

„You did that when you signed.“ Steve spoke and I nodded at him, letting him now I was ready. I could see T'Challa looking at the exchange and it gave me a slight disadvantage.

„Alright, We're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW! Because it's us! Or a squad of J-SOC guys… with no compunction about being impolite. Come on.“ Steve looked at me once more, conveying a million apologies with that one look.

Steve held his hands up and Clint shot the web right off. Behind us, Parker started to fidget, calling for attention, but no one really cared at this point. Without a warning the shield was back in Steve's hand and someone appeared from thin air as it seemed.

„I believe this is yours, Captain America.“ The other new guy spoke and I cocked my head to the side, looking at his getup.

„Oh, great. Alright, there's two on the parking deck. One of them is Maximoff, I'm gonna grab her. Rhodey, you want to take Cap?“ Tony began, while Rhodes spotted Sam and Bucky. The voice beside me made me scowl. T'Challa was prepared for the fight,

„Barnes is mine!“ He took of running and I followed behind, shooting ice in front of him to slow him down because I was having a really hard time catching up.

„Slow down!“ I shouted and I swear I heard him chuckle. That ass.

„Move, Captain. I won't ask a second time.“ I caught up only to find T'Challa and Steve prepared to fight one another. Steve looked back at me while I doubled down, trying to catch my breath. I held one hand up, indicating I would need a minute.

The rest of Steve's team runs towards the Quinjet. A fizzing stream of energy slices across the runway and they stop as Vision hovers overhead.

„Captain Rogers. I know you believe what you're doing is right. But for the collective good you must surrender now.“ Vision speaks as the rest of Tony's team arrives.

„What do we do, Cap?“ Sam asks and I look into Steve's eyes and nod.

„We fight.“ Steve responds and I hear Nat throw in a sarcastic remark. Both sides stride towards each other with a grim determination etched on their faces. I was standing in the middle, looking back and forth, trying to decide where I stood here. Should I keep up the pretense or just drop the mask and join them. Everyone started running towards one another and I chose my side. I joined Steve and Bucky, helping him stop a blow from T'Challa. I could hear explosions and shots fired around us, but my focus was on the man who wanted to claw his way through the only family I had. Bucky landed a punch on T'Challa as I kicked him from the other side, earning a slight slash from his claws. He looked at me for a moment, like he wanted to apologize, but I went at him before he had a chance. We traded blow after blow, his attacks going from Bucky to me in an impressive speed. He had to be enhanced, that was the only explanation. Suddenly, Bucky and him had each other by the throat.

„I didn't kill your father.“ Bucky managed to mumble.

„Then why did you run?“ T'Challa pulls Bucky's hand off his neck, then spins him and fly-kicks him backwards. He sprouts claws and aims for Bucky's neck, but I intervened, freezing his hand completely, hoping his suit was more than just bulletproof. I waved my hands as I focused on the water in his body and willed it to fly back, sending T'Challa crashin into a passenger gangway.

Bucky and I ran to Steve, yelling out to go now.

„That guy's probably in Siberia by now.“ Bucky stated.

„We gotta draw out the flyers. I'll take Vision. You get to the jet.“ Steve realized and Sam interjected.

„No, you get to the jet! ALL of you! The rest of us aren't getting out of here.“ He said, accepting his faith.

„As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.“ Clint pipped in, grunting as he took a hit.

„This isn't the real fight, Steve.“ Sam spoke and Steve nodded reluctantly.

„Alright, Sam, what's the play?“ He questioned.

„We need a diversion, something big.“ I spoke up and someone came through the line.

 „I got something kind of big, but I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half… don't come back for me.“ What the what? I furrowed my eyebrows together, my forehead creasing and Bucky had the same expression, except his mouth was opened.

„He's gonna tear himself in half?“ He spoke in shock.

„Did you even hear how that sounds Scott“ I put a hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter bursting out. Steve shook his head lightly and smiled at my immature behavior. He always loved when I did things like this, letting myself be just human instead of wearing a mask to hide the person of flesh and bone beneath.

„You're sure about this, Scott?“ Steve asked, his serious face back on.

„I do it all the time. I mean once… in a lab. Then I passed out. I'm the boss. I'm the boss. I'm the boss. I'm the boss. I'm the BOSS!“ He repeated and soon we saw what he meant. He became big..like really big and grabbed Rhodey by his leg.

„I guess that's the signal.“ Steve grabbed a hold of me, helping me get to the jet. The bleeding wasn't so bad, but it hurt like a bitch and I could barely stand on the leg. Damn it, T'Challa! We managed to get through the Scott commotion and I saw T'Challa was close behind. Steve and Bucky had made it to the jet as I turned back, holding my ground. I raised both my hands up, curling my fingers slowly as the clouds released the pent up water at my command. Freezing some of it was easy, it hit Tony's suit and helped Clint out as well. I saw Natasha walk up to me, her weapons down and her face set in a scowl. She didn't attack and neither did I. With a curt nod, we walked into the partially wrecked hanger and noticed T'Challa preparing to attack the guys. I used rain from the outside, throwing it on him, making the suit wet. He didn't understand why and that's where Natasha came in. She tased him, making him fall down repeatedly as the jet rises. Steve held out a hand for me to take and I nod to Natasha as a thanks before going for it. As I took his hand, T'Challa leaped after me, pulling us both down until my hand slipped from Steve's grasp and I was left free falling to the ground. Steve screamed after me, his eyes wide like he was seeing a repeat of something in his past. He once told me that's how he lost Bucky and I understood the pain in his beautiful blue eyes that were the last thing I saw.

[emergenciesstory]

Agent Risk- Part 2

Pairing : Nat x Reader, Stucky, Reader x ? (eventually)

Word count: 2,367

Warnings : Umm… Nothing really. Fluff so far. 

Chapter Summary: Not an agent Risky can’t sweet talk. Heading back to the compound.

Notes: So, I always feel like my characters become super flirty with everyone because, well, I’m super flirty with everyone. I know it says reader insert, but I tend to stick with the nickname Risky... um feedback always welcome as I’m hitting a roadblock the further I get on this.

Agent Risk Masterlist

Masterlist

It was a few hours before I heard voices again, the door to the room opening, Aaron and David entering again.

    “Miss St. Killoman, Can you clear up a few things for us?” Aaron said, obviously irritated about something.

    “Of course, but please, Aaron, my friends call me Risky.” He didn’t show if he was fazed by me knowing his name, just continued.

    “Yes, well, Miss St. Killoman, I was curious if you could clear up some discrepancies in your file.” He set the folder on the table, my number clearly written across the silver folder above the CIA emblem.

    “I believe you mean the lack there of, correct?” I slid the file towards myself, opening it on the table and picking up a pen.

David chuckled quietly, “If you don’t mind filling in some blanks that would be nice.”

“Well, let’s see. My parents, well, I don’t have any. I was an orphan. Hometown, I’m from just about everywhere but if you’d like a specific location I’d say Brooklyn.” It wasn’t true, but it was the only place that had felt like home. I passed the still blank file back, unable to fill in more blanks, and set the pen in front of them. “And don’t bother looking up my fingerprints from your pen, they won’t be there.”

“I’m sorry? Your fingerprints won’t be there?” Aaron was looking at me skeptical.

“That’s what I said. I don’t have fingerprints on my thumbs, and any partial you receive from my other fingers won’t be in the system.”

“And why is that?” David looked at me curiously.

“Well, I can’t tell you that.”

“Miss St. Killoman, I don’t believe you understand the position you are in at the moment.”

“Well, Agent Hotchner, I believe I am under investigation for being in 100 year old photos, which is highly improbable, and that while you are the FBI, and I respect that, you do not have clearance for the information you are requesting.”

“Clearance?” the rage was now showing through the steel exterior of his eyes. “I have higher clearance than the President of the United States, There is no higher clearance, not that you need to be told this information.”

“While I appreciate your knowledge of that, there is in fact higher clearance.” I calmly crossed my legs, placing my hands on my knee. Aaron looked like he was going to rage fire before David’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“Pray tell, what level is that?”

“Mine.” A familiar voice rang out from the door that had just been swung open, Maria Hill standing with paperwork in her hands.

“Maria! So nice to see you today, how is everyone?” I smiled at the woman.

“They are as good as can be. I saw Steve out with Buck, it was a sight to see.”

“Excuse me, but who are you?” Aaron snapped standing, clearly as thrown off as we all were at her sudden appearance.

“Well, Aaron Hotchner, my name is Maria Hill, and I am the assistant director of SHIELD agency, to which this young lady is one of my top operatives.” she turned her gaze to David, who was smiling like an idiot. “Rossi, sorry to not keep you in the loop, but I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, Maria, just means you owe me that lunch now.”

She smiled at the man before squeezing his hand. “How’s Monday, next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Turning back to Aaron his smile vaporized slightly. “Well, I believe this is over, the file and Risky are both free to go with you, Maria, as long as any information towards this investigation.”

“But-” Aaron called, scrambling to collect the files and pictures on the table.

“But nothing, Aaron. We do not have the clearance for the case, and I’m sure it is more than taken care of in their capable hands.” David took the files from Aaron and gathered the pictures. Holding them out to me, he smiled, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“No worries, I’ll be around. Thank you, David.”

“Yes, Thank you.” Maria said, taking the files from my hands. “Now if you don’t mind, we have a flight back to New York.” Maria turned on her heel and strutted out of the room, and I followed close behind. Climbing into the helicopter, I took the headphones from the seat back and secured my belongings from my desk in the rear.

“You know, next time I recommend you calling me, not Steve.” Maria was smiling, but her voice was stern.

“I was being monitored, M. My cover was going to be blown. They can’t know there’s a super soldier from World War I, they are already weary of the two they know.”

“I’m just glad you got the file from them. Not an agent you can’t charm.”

“Except that Hotchner fellow. Oh well, mission done.” And the mission was mostly a success, only those three agents having a suspicion. The sun was setting as we flew back to the Avengers Compound.

___________________________

When we arrived back in New York, Maria was quick to send me to the reports room, being gone for almost two years, I had missed the place. A new Tablet was placed in my hands from an intern, and a message popped up about my belongings being retrieved from D.C. and returned to my quarters in trunks shortly. I gave my mission report, the agency clearing out from the late hour by time I was finished. Taking off my heels, I made for the long walk back to my Quarters.

The Compound was even more beautiful than I had remembered, but it was also quiet from the vast size of it, and no one out and about. I saw some new recruits hanging around, some reading in little nooks, others looking like they were heading out for a long weekend, bags in hand. Passing the fountains, I swiped into the Commons. It was locked from the new trainees, providing a place for the rest of us to hide. The door slid up and open, no sooner had I stepped in than I was tackled by slobber and fur.

“I missed you too!” I laughed out, pushing the dog off of myself. Looking over to the couches I saw a smiling blonde putting his book down.

“Risky, good to see you back.”

“All thanks to you Stevie.” I hugged the large man and curled up on the couch beside him, sitting close so the dog could sit with us. “Sorry you had to watch him longer than I thought. I had hoped it’d be a simple in and out.”

“No worries, It was nice to have a running buddy. We all just missed you.”

“I missed you too. How’s your fiancé?”

“Mad you’re in his spot.” Bucky stood behind the couch grinning down at you. His pj pants hung low on his waist, and his shirt was practically see through from how thin it was. But his grin was intoxicating. His hair was tied back behind his head in a low bun.

“Wow, your hair is long!”

“Tell me about it.” He mumbled. “How’s the girlfriend?”

“You’d know better than I do at this moment.” I looked over towards the hall and her door was closed, grey on the name plate indicating she was not residing on the compound at the moment. I was curious if she was on a mission, or just gone. “Who all is gone?”

“Let’s see, Vision, Wanda, Natasha, Clint, Thor. I think that’s it.” Steve said, counting them all on his fingers.

“Sam and Bruce are out too, I think. All on some different things.” Bucky muttered, shooing Buck off the couch and sitting down. I threw my legs up over his lap and laid my head in Steve’s, curling into their warmth. Bucky rubbed my legs up to the hem of my skirt that had run up.

“I can’t believe you are allowed to wear this small tight skirt and blouse. You look like a hooker.”

“Wow, thanks Buck. I still can’t believe how warm ya’ll run from the serum, but I run cold.” I mumbled, enjoying the vibe of being back. The three of us had always been close since Steve found me, and I was fortunate to be able to live with them since. Tony took some getting used to, especially as he aged and I didn’t, but Howard had despised me, so it was a step up.

I was the first super soldier to be created back in 1917. The mission that was in File 78 was tailing the man who magically disappeared that night. Joe had taken the experiment file in order to mass produce serum, but I knowing this would be a bad idea followed him and destroyed all evidence of the serum, or so I thought. The end results page was lost until Howard found it, reverse engineering the serum. When I found out, it was too late, and There before me was Steve. When I found Howard, I could’ve been nicer, but after confronting him I decided to stay in the shadows rather than be poked and prodded. I found out later Steve was not immune to aging, just that he would at a slower rate, of course, that was after the ice. I hadn’t discussed the serum with Howard until shortly before his death, we had been talking about me sharing what I knew of the original project.

I heard the key card beep before the door opened.

“Tones!” I yelled, jumping up from the couch and tackling him in a hug. His laughter warmed the room as he wrapped his arms around me and swung me around..

“Glad we could bring you home, sweetheart.”

“Glad to be home, even though no one else is here.” Tony pulled back, mock offense on his face.

“No one? Well excuse me, the supers and I will leave then.”

“Har har very funny, I think you know who I mean.”

Tony tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry, she’ll be back soon.”

“I know.” I mumbled. Grabbing his hand I shook the sadness from my expression. “Come on! Lets order in and hang out. Please?” I looked at all three of them with my best pleading look, getting laughs and head nods in agreement.

_____________________________

    As the boys were finding movies and ordering pizza, I went back to my room to change. The rooms were in little hall modules of three, with small hang out places in the middle and one shared bathroom. We had taken care in how the twelve of us chose rooms, making little families. Not everyone who had a room stayed, hence the color nameplate system,  but on occasion we would all stay for the weekend.

    As the only two bedroom module, myself, Steve, and Bucky had moved in, already being close. Beside us, Sam, Tony, and Peter’s module, then Thor, Wanda, and Vision, and lastly was Nat, Bruce, and Clint. The rooms were much like those in the former Avengers tower, each studio style setups. As a corner, I had floor to ceiling windows on one and a half walls that I refused to pull the blinds down in. They were able to open, the entire glass pane pivoting in the middle. I had wispy netting that draped down to flow in the breeze when they were open. My California king bed was covered in fluffy pillows and a feather comforter, white to contrast dark plum walls. Bookshelves and a reading chair were the most furniture I had, preferring to be out on the grounds.

    When I entered my room for the first time in two years, it was left exactly how I remembered it. I could tell it had been cleaned for my return, and two grey trunks sat at the foot of my bed. The shades were drawn down, as Friday was instructed to do when I was gone. The dog ran past me and jumped on the bed, sinking into what looked to be his sleeping spot while I was gone.

    “Friday, can we change my status please?” I asked, laughing at the pup.

    “Of course, Risky.” I watched as the blinds raised and lights lowered to the soft star lights I had installed immediately when moving in. The large touchpad in the wall beside me illuminated to the picture of myself and the boys in Brooklyn, the screensaver for whenever SHIELD business was not needed. Clicking it, I checked the new blueprints Tony had been working on as well as mission reports that had been cleared. I pulled up messages left for me, some from Steve with pictures of the dogs, Bucky leaving funny stories, Tony with notes for me to look at different designs for him. Sighing, I closed out and went to change, not wanting to get too worked up she hadn’t left anything.

    Pulling my sweatpants from the trunk, I grabbed a tanktop and stripped quickly. Removing the clip from my hair, I turned to the door, Buck already on my hip to follow, and headed back to the commons.

    “You know, I can’t get him to follow me like that, most of the time I was chasing buck on our runs.” Steve handed me a water bottle and a plate as soon as I entered.

    “He wasn’t trained to be as protective of you.” I gave him a smirk before looking at my pup, seated right behind me. Looking him in the eye, I tapped my thumb and index finger together three times, and watched as he turned and went to make himself comfy on the couch.

    “I’ll never stop being amazed by that.” Steve’s smile was infectious.

    “You and me both. He’s a good dog, I hated being away for the two years.”

    “We all missed you too.” Bucky’s arms slinked around me from behind before flipping me over his shoulder.

    “Bucky!!!” I laughed out, hitting his back. “Put me down!”

He threw me to the couch, Tony settled in already, and handed me a pizza box.

    “Hurry up, grandpas. Movie night waits for no one.”

[emphasisonem]

It’s My Birthday Too

Summary

“Look, I, um, I wanted to apologize again,” Bucky exhales. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything when I asked if you needed help earlier. I was just trying to be polite, and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I think I might be able to forgive you, yeah.”

Bucky’s positively beaming at that, and Steve kind of can’t believe that something so simple has made this handsome man so happy.

“Glad to hear it,” Bucky replies, batting his eyelashes in a way that Steve would love to read as flirtatious, but there’s no way-

“Be a shame to make a bad impression on somebody as pretty as you.”

Ok, so maybe there is a way, Steve thinks as he gapes up at Bucky.

In which Steve has to work on his birthday, but it turns out pretty damn well.

You can read it on AO3 here.

Edit: Forgot to add that this was inspired by an A+ prompt from the lovely @talsywalsy who is a genuine gift. 

“But Tuesday’s your birthday!”

Steve levels an icy glare at Natasha as the two of them sit at the kitchen table chopping vegetables. Sam snickers from where he stands at the counter as he places chicken into a dish to marinate for their Sunday dinner.

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve grumbles, practically slamming his knife through the zucchini before him. “Of course I’d rather not work on my birthday, but we’ve only got so much of a grace period before July’s rent is due and I’m short on my share. I already picked up all the hours I can down at the art supply store, and it’s not like there’s a ton of work to be had on a holiday.”

Sam turns to face Steve and Nat and leans back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest as he smirks.

“You’re gonna kill me for suggesting this,” Sam begins, and Steve’s eyes narrow.

“Then don’t fucking suggest it,” Steve bites out as he begins to place the vegetables he and Nat have chopped into a roasting pan.

“I could spot you the extra cash for rent this month,” Sam continues, unperturbed even as Steve’s jaw clenches.

“Absolutely not, Sam,” Steve replies. “It’s not like I’m the only college student strapped for cash living in this apartment. Besides, you’ve been saving for ages to make that trip out to the Grand Canyon with Riley next month somethin’ special.”

Sam shrugs, smile still on his face as he says, “I really can spare the money if you need me to. Wouldn’t be the first time one of our trips has had a tighter budget and it won’t be the last.”

“I can chip in some extra too,” Nat chimes in with a slow smile. “We know you’re good for it, and we wanted to celebrate with you, Steve.”

Steve’s anger leaves him in a heavy exhale and his shoulders slump as he stares down at the worn wood of their kitchen table.

“Look, guys, that’s really, really nice of you, but it’s not that big a deal,” Steve says, brushing his light hair away from his forehead. “Besides, we all have work pretty early on Wednesday. Sam, you really wanna handle customer service calls hungover?”

“Well, no,” Sam admits sheepishly.

“And, Nat, you wanna be sittin’ out in the sun and tryin’ to keep a bunch of screaming children in line at the pool with a killer headache?”

Natasha sighs, slumping back in her chair.

“I guess not,” she replies. “Although, you’re turning 22, Steve, not 21. I think we have just a little more self control now than we did last year. But you’ve clearly made up your mind, so we’ll go out next weekend instead.”

“Thank you,” Steve grins, picking up the tray and walking toward the oven. “Now, can we get dinner going already? I’m starving.”

���I cannot believe-” Bucky hisses into his sister’s ear as the two of them stand in the Robinson’s backyard watching a bunch of five-year-olds sprinting around armed with water balloons and Super Soakers- “That I let you talk me into this.”

Becca grins up at Bucky, her dark brown eyes wide with feigned innocence. She’ll be starting her senior year of high school in the fall, but Becca never misses an opportunity to play the little sister card. And Bucky always falls for it.

Which is why he’s helping Becca chaperone Angela Robinson’s birthday party instead of enjoying a barbecue or a pool party or any of the number of options with which his old high school buddies had presented him.

“You love kids,” Becca replies, that shit-eating grin still gracing her suntanned features. Hours of playing outside with Angela, Bucky figures, wondering how Becca manages to keep up with a kid in the summer heat day after day.

Bucky’d asked her about why she’d gone the babysitting route instead of just getting a job at the local grocery store or the movie theater or the public pool or something. Becca had simply shrugged and said it was good money and that she was a more affordable option than summer camp for Angela’s parents.

“Kids are fine,” Bucky sighs as he dodges to avoid a little boy sprinting between him and Becca, somehow getting sprayed with cold water in the process. He’d be annoyed, but it’s at least 95 degrees outside. “I just- I prefer them in smaller, calmer groups.”

Becca just rolls her eyes, and turns her attention back to the kids. “You’re gonna make a heck of an educator, big brother.”

Bucky’s about to snark right back but then Aileen Robinson, Angela’s mother, slides open the back door and walks into the yard with a fresh bowl of fruit in hand. Following her is a short, slim blond boy wearing a backpack and carrying a sizable canister of what Bucky guesses is helium. It is a birthday party, after all.

Aileen sets the bowl down on one of the folding tables on the patio, and then motions for the blond to follow her to where Bucky and Becca are standing.

Bucky can’t quite pinpoint how old the the stranger; he could be all of sixteen, but he could also be closer to Bucky’s age. Bucky really hopes the guy’s not in high school because he’s about a hundred percent Bucky’s type.

The guy’s hair gleams golden in the afternoon sun, a little bit tousled and very soft-looking. His eyes are large and bright, the kind of color Becca and her goofy friends would refer to as fanfiction blue. His cheekbones are sharp, giving him sort of a elfin look that the LOTR nerd that lives inside Bucky finds absolutely adorable. His nose is just a touch too big for his finely drawn features, and it looks like maybe it’s been broken a time or two, but Bucky finds it oddly charming. The guy’s lips are plush and look incredibly kissable.

When Bucky manages to drag his gaze away from the stranger’s mouth, he finds those pretty blue eyes trained squarely on him, and the guy’s brow is furrowed. Bucky’s not sure if it’s annoyance or confusion or a mix of both.

Fuck.

Bucky does his best to smile, but it feels tight and unnatural, and he knows there’s a blush blooming on his cheeks. Becca snickers softly beside him - of course she’d noticed - and Bucky elbows her in the side, hard enough to make her yelp.

Aileen seems completely unaware of the strange tension between the young men as she shouts for the kids to settle down for a moment.

“I have a surprise for all of you!” the woman beams down at the children as they fidget, eager to get back to their games. “This is Steve Rogers, and he’s a balloon artist, so if any of you would like a balloon animal or anything like that, he’ll be here all afternoon!”

Steve smiles and waves at the kids, none of whom seem particularly interested in balloon art at the moment. Bucky figures that might change when they’ve worn themselves out a little bit; the heat’s too thick and humid for them to be this active all afternoon. But now, all they do is stare at Steve for a moment, and then go back to sprinting after each other through the yard.

Steve just shakes his head with a rueful smile.

“Steve, let me introduce you to our party chaperones,” Aileen says, and Bucky shakes himself so that Steve doesn’t catch Bucky staring at his mouth again.

“This is Becca Barnes, Angela’s babysitter,” Aileen smiles as she gestures to Becca. “She’s been an absolute lifesaver so far this summer for Jeff and I. And this is her brother Bucky. Now, Jeff and I are going to be busy getting the food together for the kids, but these two can help you out if you run into any little problems.”

Aileen then turns her attention to Becca as she continues, “Of course, any emergencies, you know you come and interrupt us right away.”

“Of course, Aileen,” Becca nods, taking the older woman’s arm and gently steering her back toward the house. “Bucky and I will handle the kids, and we’ll help Steve out with anything he needs. You just worry about getting lunch together, OK?”

Becca follows Aileen back toward the house, leaving Bucky and Steve standing awkwardly in the middle of the yard.

“Um,” Bucky starts, trying to break the ice as he points at the canister in Steve’s hand. “Can I, uh, help you with that?”

Bucky knows he’s said the wrong thing as soon as Steve’s eyes narrow and his lips thin into a tight line.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Steve replies cooly. “I know I’m small, but I’m not incapable of carrying the stuff I need to do my job.”

“I- I didn’t,” Bucky stammers out, hands spread out in what he hopes is a placating manner. “That’s- that’s not what I meant. I was just tryin’ to be helpful; I’m sorry.”

Steve’s expression has softened slightly, but it’s still wary as he says, “It’s fine. But really, I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

And then Steve’s walking toward the picnic table on the other side of the yard and Bucky is cursing himself. He’s supposed to be the charming, confident Barnes sibling and he’s already completely fucked up his chances of chatting up Steve.

Bucky sighs, resolving to just do what he came here for - keep an eye on some kids and hang out with his little sister.

And, ok, yeah, maybe he’s gonna sneak a few glances at the pretty blond that Aileen Robinson hired as party entertainment.

He’s only human.

Steve’s actually having a pretty solid birthday in spite of the fact that he has to work. The gig’s gonna pay well, the kids asking for balloon animals have so far been very polite and grateful, and he’s found the only patch of the yard that appears to be permanently in the shade.

The tall, dark and handsome brunet chaperoning the party with his sister certainly isn’t hurting matters either, Steve thinks with a smile as he glances over at Bucky. The young man is nodding and grinning as the birthday girls talks animatedly about lord knows what.

Steve takes a moment to study Bucky while Bucky’s attention is on the child. He’s got dark hair that’s long enough to pull back into a sloppy bun, which Steve finds absolutely adorable. His eyes are the color of a stormy sea (Steve cringes internally at the cliché, but it fits). And that smile, god, but it makes Steve a little weak in the knees.

It’s sort of pathetic, really, that a stranger can have such an immediate affect on Steve, but the guy had blushed a pretty shade of pink when Steve had caught him sharing, so sue him for enjoying the attention.

Angela’s gaze strays to Steve after a few minutes of chatter, a shy little grin on her face before she stares down at her feet and shakes her head. Bucky follows her gaze, then tugs on the kid’s arm, pulling her in Steve’s direction. She follows a little reluctantly, refusing to look up as she and Bucky reach Steve.

“Angela, it’s your birthday,” Bucky reassures the child as he aims a grin Steve’s way, and the hot summer day must be affecting Steve’s weak lungs because he’s having a little trouble breathing.

Definitely just the heat, Steve thinks as Bucky continues, “I’m sure Steve here would be more than happy to make you a balloon flower.”

Steve’s lips twitch slightly before he squats so that he’s at eye level with Angela.

“A flower balloon, huh?” Steve asks, chuckling as Angela finally meets his gaze and nods. “Of course; anything for the birthday girl. What colors would you like me to use?”

Angela tugs on the leg of Bucky’s shorts, a pleading look on her face. Bucky smiles and leans down so that she can whisper something to him, winking at Steve when he catches the blond’s eye.

Shit, Steve thinks as his heart rate  begins to speed up. He’s really hot.

Of course, Steve couldn’t meet a guy this cute in a normal setting like out at a bar or a concert or something, oh no. Had to be at a kid’s party where he’s hired to making fucking balloon animals and shit.

“Angela would like you to use purple and blue for her flower, please,” Bucky says, drawing Steve from his thoughts. Steve smiles and nods before he gets to work, filling each balloon with helium and twisting until he’s holding out a flower to the little girl standing before him.

“Wow,” Angela breathes, a wide grin breaking across her features as she looks up. “Thank you, Mister Steve!”

And then the kid’s tearing off back toward Becca, shouting to her about how pretty her birthday flower is.

“Yeah, thanks, Mister Steve,” Bucky chuckles, suddenly looking a little shy as the two of them stand alone once again. The brunet tucks a strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he smiles at Steve, gray-blue eyes unsure.

“Look, I, um, I wanted to apologize again,” Bucky exhales. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything when I asked if you needed help earlier. I was just trying to be polite, and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I think I might be able to forgive you, yeah.”

Bucky’s positively beaming at that, and Steve kind of can’t believe that something so simple has made this handsome man so happy.

“Glad to hear it,” Bucky replies, batting his eyelashes in a way that Steve would love to read as flirtatious, but there’s no way-

“Be a shame to make a bad impression on somebody as pretty as you.”

Ok, so maybe there is a way, Steve thinks as he gapes up at Bucky.

“You should, um, you should sit and eat with Becca and me when the food’s ready,” Bucky says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Sure,” Steve somehow manages to get his vocal cords working again, and he’s impressed by his even tone. “That’d be nice.”

A pretty solid birthday, indeed, Steve thinks as he watches Bucky make his way back over to Becca, a disbelieving smile on his face.

“So, Steve,” Becca asks in between bites of her hot dog. “How old are you?”

Bucky casts a sidelong glance at his sister, and Becca just shrugs and smiles innocently like she’s not about to embarrass the hell out of him.

Granted, they got through the first twenty minutes or so of their meal just chatting and laughing like normal people, so Bucky guesses he should be grateful for that much at least.

“Twenty-two,” Steve answers as he pops a French fry into his mouth. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Becca says with a grin as she looks over at Bucky. “You know my big brother is also twenty-two. Just graduated from college this past May, and he’s planning on staying in town for the foreseeable future. Got a job at the local middle school and everything.”

Jesus Christ, Beck, Bucky thinks as he gives his sister a look that he hopes conveys, For the love of God, shut up.

Becca does not shut up.

“I bet you guys would get along great,” Becca continues with a sly smirk in Bucky’s direction.

“What makes you say that?” Steve asks, clearly trying not to laugh at the two of them, and Bucky’s embarrassed but also glad that Steve is amused and not absolutely horrified by his little sister’s teasing.

“Just a hunch,” Becca winks, before standing and grabbing her plate. “I’m gonna go grab seconds and check in with Angela. You two have fun chatting.”

Bucky has no doubt that there’s a light flush coloring his cheeks as he looks up from his plate and meets Steve’s eyes.

“You all right?” Steve asks with a wry grin.

Bucky sighs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he says, “Yeah, I’d just like to apologize to you again. My little sister can be a little, uh, obvious when she thinks somebody’s my type.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his head to one side as he says, “Hate to break it to you, Bucky, but callin’ me pretty was fairly obvious, so that must run in your family or somethin’.”

Bucky just stares at Steve for a moment, completely unsure of what to say because, yeah, that hadn’t exactly been subtle, had it?

Steve startles Bucky from his thoughts by placing his hand gently over Bucky’s.

“Relax, Buck,” Steve says. “I didn’t mind.”

“Oh,” Bucky replies, trying to ignore the way his voice cracks. “Ok, good. Wouldn’t wanna make things awkward for you at your job, you know?”

Steve just laughs and tells Bucky to shut up and finish his burger.

Steve knows somebody’s in trouble as soon as he sees one little boy sprinting after another. The second child has stolen the first’s piece of cake, if Steve’s deciphering the nearly incoherent shouts of rage correctly.

He just doesn't expect for the kid holding the cake to trip on a root of the tree beneath which Steve��s standing. Or for the cake to go flying into the air. Or for it to land on his head.

But that’s exactly what happens.

For a moment, everything is still, as though the party is holding its collective breath as frosting drips down Steve’s face. And then it’s chaos.

“Oh my god,” Aileen cries as she hustles over toward Steve, ignoring the kids’ shouts and shrieks of laughter. “Aiden, Kyle go sit down right now. Steve, I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you get cleaned up.”

Steve’s about to reassure the woman that he can handle it, but then Bucky’s standing up and clearing his throat to get her attention.

“Let me take care of it, Aileen, really,” Bucky says. “Better if a real authority figure stays out here and talks to those boys.”

Aileen nods, thanking Bucky and telling him to take Steve to the upstairs bathroom so he won’t be disturbed - “second door on the left” - and then Bucky’s herding Steve inside.

“You know, I think I can find the bathroom myself,” Steve protests, but Bucky just takes his hand and drags him up the steps. Steve’d be lying if he said he’s not kind of enjoying the warmth of Bucky’s palm along with his firm grip.

“Yeah, you probably can, but I kind of need a break from the munchkins, and this feels like a pretty good excuse,” Bucky replies, and sure, Steve can understand that.

They reach the bathroom, and Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand. Steve misses the heat immediately.

“I’ll just wait out here while you get the icing outta your hair, all right?” Bucky says.

Steve nods, walking into the immaculate, white-tiled bathroom and pushing the door until it snaps closed. The Robinsons have one of those removable shower heads, thank god, so Steve simply kneels down on the blue bath mat at the edge of the tub and washes his hair.

He likes their shampoo; it smells like apples.

Once Steve has rinsed his hair and scrubbed his face, he towels himself dry. Then, he opens the door and motions for Bucky to walk through the frame.

“Do me a favor and let me know if I missed a spot or anything?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s smile is soft as he nods, motioning for Steve to do a little twirl so he can check the back of Steve’s head. Steve spins slowly, acutely aware of Bucky’s eyes on him.

Once Steve’s done a complete rotation, Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve’s arm, tugging him forward.

“Missed a spot,” Bucky murmurs, and holy shit, they’re standing very close, and Bucky’s hands are on him, and Steve can’t seem to breathe.

“Want me to get it?” Bucky asks, voice raspy and low, and there’s no trace of his earlier shyness, just a predatory sort of gleam in his stormy eyes.

Steve’s voice refuses to cooperate, so he just nods, breath hitching as Bucky leans closer.

Bucky’s finger brushes along the skin at the corner of Steve's lips, and Steve sees a trace of icing at the tip as Bucky pulls it back.

And Bucky's tongue is curling around the digit and sucking, his intense gaze never leaving Steve. It's a small miracle that he's standing so close to the sink because this little display has Steve’s knees buckling, and he has to grab the edge to stay on his feet.

Bucky seems to notice Steve’s predicament and wraps an arm securely around his waist, pulling him even closer.

“Shit,” Steve whispers as Bucky’s warm breath ghosts across his lips, unable to help the small shudder that wracks his body.

“I think you should kiss me,” Steve blurts, more than a little amazed that one, he’s actually just voiced that thought aloud, and two, that his voice is remarkably composed.

Bucky apparently doesn’t need to be told twice.

Bucky really likes the feel of Steve’s mouth moving soft and slow against his own. Likes the way Steve kind of sags into him, his small, yet long-fingered hands gripping Bucky’s shoulders tightly. Like the soft sounds slipping from Steve’s lips as they kiss.

Bucky breaks for air a moment later because the two of them have already been gone a while and if they keep going, Bucky’s not sure he’s going to be able to stop kissing Steve. He rests his forehead gently against Steve’s and listens to the blond try to catch his breath.

“How was that?” Bucky asks, liking the laugh Steve exhales.

“That was great,” Steve says. “This is turning out to be maybe the best birthday ever.”

Bucky jerks back, eyes narrowed as he surveys Steve.

“Party,” Steve amends quickly, eyes downcast as a blush suffuses his cheeks. “Best birthday party.”

Bucky can feel the slow smirk spreading across his lips as he presses Steve back against the sink, loving the gasp that leaves the blond’s kiss-swollen lips.

“Rogers,” Bucky begins, unable to hide the glee in his voice. “Is today your birthday, too?”

“Wh-what?” Steve stammers, whining as Bucky’s hands find his hips and squeeze. “No, of course not. Why would I be working on my birthday?”

“Don’t lie to me, Steve,” Bucky teases, leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along Steve’s neck, relishing the way Steve arches up into him.

“Buck,” Steve groans as Bucky’s teeth graze the smooth skin of his throat. “Shit, ok, yes. Yes, it’s my birthday too. You happy?”

“Steve, I can’t imagine a scenario where I’d be happier than the one I’m in right now,” Bucky replies, as he pulls back and smiles down at Steve. “You should let me take you out after the party. As a birthday present.”

Bucky watches as Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, his lips parting slightly as Bucky takes a step back, giving Steve some breathing room.

“You-” Steve enunciates each word slowly- “want to take me out?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky replies, shoving his hands into his pockets with a shy smile as he prays Steve will agree to this. Bucky’d been pretty sure Steve would be the only thing occupying his thoughts tonight and that was before they’d kissed. All he wants is to be around the blond for as long as possible.

So he says so.

“I really would,” Bucky continues. “If, uh, if you’d be interested.”

For a moment, Steve’s brows furrow and Bucky’s stomach drops because that look suggests that the blond’s about to turn him down. Which would really, really suck.

Instead Steve says, “You don’t even know me, Buck.”

“You’re right,” Bucky replies, reaching out to brush Steve’s damp hair back from his forehead. “But I’d like to, Steve. If you’ll let me, that is.”

And suddenly Steve’s smiling so bright that Bucky’s chest actually aches.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, leaning up and catching Bucky’s lips in a quick kiss. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Somehow managed to get a date with a guy helping out at this birthday party, Steve texts his roommates as the party begins to wind down and parents come to collect their children. Don’t wait up.

When Steve looks up from his phone, Bucky’s grinning and waving him over, and yeah, Steve’s reaction after that first kiss was dead on.

This is definitely the best birthday ever.

[readerwinterbarnes]

Motionless Pt. 12/?

Bucky x Reader, original characters

Summary: What work is Albern finishing and what was his brother up to? And why does it involve Bucky and why the hell were you involved?

Word Count: 3,740

Warnings: Language, character injury, graphic stuff, depression, angst

A/N: Guys we have come a long way in this series, thanks for sticking with it. We still have ways to go, but we’ll get there!

Wanna Recap? Part 11

vvv (Albern looks like this, btw) vvv Creepy right?

You couldn’t move, well, you could but if you did hot searing pain shot out from everywhere. Your shoulders were far from numb, you could no longer feel anything besides the pain that was inflicted upon you. Time wasn’t a part of your life anymore, considering you couldn’t tell the difference anymore. How the hell could you in the first place? You were in a semi-dark room, hanging from the ceiling from your wrists, feet bound to the floor in rusty iron cuffs. They transferred you into a different room a few days after Alberns “play time”.

You weren’t sure why and you no longer cared. The only good thing that came out of the transfer was when you felt a slight breeze hit your face. Man, it felt amazing to lay down and not hang from the ceiling. Sure, you were placed on a stainless steel table that was cold as fuck, but hell if you cared.

You knew this wasn’t going to last very long, so you were going to cherish every single moment of it. You watched as the ceiling lights passed over you as they wheeled you down the damp, murky hallway to your new room. Well, the room where Albern would just continue to cut, dig and mark your skin. He always saved your spine for last though, each day he would cut even deeper into the base of your spine to get at Tony’s and Bruce’s little contraption. No patch of skin was untouched, besides your lower abdomen and thighs, everywhere else was marked in one way or another.

It wasn’t much longer until you were hauled off the table and strung back up in the same position you were taken down from. A scream made its way up your throat, but you didn’t have to strength to even let it out. Your throat was so sore from all the screams and curses you spewed out from the multiple days you’ve been here, so it just came out as a groan. Bane finished cuffing your feet to the lock on the floor and stood off to stand beside the door, awaiting further instruction.

You’re not sure how much time had passed since your new buddy Bane brought you here. The numbness of your body was slowly disappearing as every sensation slowly regained its place. Your subconscious was swarming with all the newest signals of fresh and old pain.

You felt the pain of the cuffs locked around your wrists and ankles digging into the tender skin that was being rubbed away. How the fabric of your bra and panties stuck to your skin from the blood that soaked into them just hours before. How trails of the crimson liquid were now nothing but smudged, dark, cracked rivers on your skin. The stinging sensation every cut and burn gave you when you moved. You’ve handled pain many times before, but this pain was nothing like you ever felt before. The pain you experienced usually came quickly and took its time leaving you.

However, this pain stuck with you every second, minute, and hour of every day. It was a pain that would never leave you, a pain you’d always remember. You no longer had the energy to do anything except breath in and out, but even then it was difficult when you had a few broken and bruised ribs.

You missed Steve and his awkwardness. You missed Tony and Bruce’s excited voices when they finally figured something out that’s been plaguing their minds for days. You missed Sam and Clint’s pranks you always took part of. You missed girl’s night with Wanda and Nat. But most of all, you missed Bucky. Your Bucky. The man who always stood by your side, through thick and thin, who stood up for you, protected you. The man who promised to marry you. But now, you don’t think you’ll live to see the day where you got to walk down the aisle in a white dress. To say ‘I Do’ to the man who changed your life. You miss home, and home was wherever Bucky was.

A dull light filled the room when the door was opened. If someone was to see you a few days after you were brought here, they would’ve seen you cower back in fear, caught like a deer in headlights as a predator stalks its prey. But now, your reaction is completely different, shut down, no longer reacting to Albern’s physical presence. Sure he still gave you a sick feeling in your stomach, but you weren’t going to give him the joy of actually showing him how much he affected you.

Because if you did he’d try a different technique to pull another reaction from you, but if you didn’t show any form of emotion that meant his techniques were far more painful. You kinda wished one of Albern’s goonies would come in and give you a gold star for all your hard work, considering you’ve lasted this long. Like that was going to happen, they only gold star you were ever going to get was on your headstone when he finally manages to kill you and drop you onto the Avengers compound front step.

“Ah, you are awake. How do you like your new living quarters? I thought you’d like the cleaner room.” You scoffed at his smug face, bullshit he was giving you a cleaner room.

The room you were currently in, was three times as worse than your previous one. It was dark, mold spots on the walls and floors, rats were most likely hiding somewhere and the room smelled like shit. He took off his black hat, coat and adjusted his glasses on his face. Which made his small beady eyes even sicklier.

“I like what you did with the place. Are those new wall fixtures? Because I’d really like to meet with your decorator, I need to get my own place upgraded.” Your voice hoarse and dry from lack of water, but you managed to give him a weak smile. Not wanting to back down, still gathering whatever will you had left, to fight back. There was no way you wanted to die, not today, not tomorrow or a week from now. You needed to live for Bucky because he would want to live for you.

“I must admit my dear, you are stronger than what my brother perceived. Which is really good on my part I have to say, it will help for what is coming next.” You always believed he was bluffing whenever he said that, but man were you so wrong.

The first time he said that you didn’t believe him and you got shot in the thigh. The second time, he shot your shoulder, which hurt like a bitch because you were hanging by your arms and the bullet lodged itself pretty deep. But what could possibly be worse than what he’s already done? What else could he do to cause you more pain other than to kill you?

“It has been really exciting to have you stay with me over the past month Y/N, but I am afraid we need to push on. I am nearly finished with my brother’s work and the only thing we really need now is Bucky Barnes and you of course, but you are already here.” The doctors made their way towards you, pushing a table with medical tools along with them.

“You are probably wondering what I have planned for you. (Brothers name) has slaved over this work all throughout his life. Having Hydra give him exactly what he needs, helped him work grow faster. Quicker.” You watched as one of the doctors stepped behind you, the sound of rubber gloves snapping sent a pang of fear through you. Your skin was still very tender from the last time they poked, prodded and sliced through you. A pain you did not want to go through again.

“P-Please, don’t…” Your once strong exterior was finally cracking under the pressure. He was finally winning and you couldn’t let him get to you, but there was only a certain amount of pain you could take.

“But I must, Y/N. Pain is part of the process, whether it be physical, mentally, psychologically. It just brings us one step closer.” He nodded slightly and your body tensed as the man behind you sat down on the chair and shifted closer.

You could feel the tip of the blade slowly prick your skin, slicing over the partly healed would. You tugged on your restraints, biting your bottom lip to hold back the scream making its way up your throat. Tears streamed down your face, leaving wet trails through the blood and grime that covered your once clean skin. Albern held your face in his hands until your noses were about to touch.

“Es wird sehr schmerzhaft sein.” (It will be very painful) Your arms jerked as the scalpel cut deeper, you tried to get away from the source of the pain, but there was nowhere for you to go. “Sie haben genau das, was ich will.” (You have exactly what i want) Another slice was made but deeper. “Was ich brauche.” (What I need) He slid his hands away from your face, down your torso, resting them on your hips. His thumbs running smooth circles on your lower abdomen. You hated having his hands on you, all you wanted to do was to bash his face in, break every single bone in his hands. But the fucking restraints prevented you from doing just that. So all you could do was just jerk away from his touch as best as you would not like it helped anyways.

“Bucky hat, was ich brauche.” (Bucky has what I need) He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, only adding the several ones littered across them. You were forced to stop moving when you heard the sound of metal against metal from behind you. Your nerves began to tingle, a new numbness spread through your limbs as if ice was melting against your skin.

Everything was fine until a sharp pain, one you’ve never felt shot straight up your spine. You cried out as fire like pain radiated at the base of your spine, but it was gone as soon as it came. Gravity was now in control, your legs crumbled underneath you, but strong hands held you up. Alberns face now replaced with Banes. The doctor finished patching you up, packed up his materials and stood next to the others.

Albern stood behind you, his voice hot in your ear. “Aber mit Ihrer Hilfe, geben Sie ihm, was er braucht.” (But with your help, you’ll give him what he needs) He gave orders to the other doctors, but his voice sounded muddled to you. Your senses started to become overwhelmed, there were too many things to focus on. So many thoughts ran through your head, what the hell happened? What was going on? Why were you involved? What did you and Bucky have that he needs?

All you could tell was that you were moving, you were no longer hanging from the ceiling, but instead being placed on a gurney on your stomach. You couldn’t feel anything past your waist and that scared the shit out of you. Your gaze happened to fall down to your hand and that’s when you realized he also took something else from you too. Your ring finger was gone, the ring that was once there was gone. The last physical piece of Bucky you had. The last piece of him to help keep you strong.

You tried to keep a hold of whatever strength you had, but even that grip was slowly fading into nothingness. The events that have transpired over the past month you’ve been held here finally started to overtake you. No matter how hard you tried to move, the pain would always remind you that it was present. It was now the only friend you had in this hellish prison, but it wasn’t the friend you needed.

“What did you do to me? What do you want from me?” Your voice was scratchy and hoarse from overuse. Albern crouched down eye level with yours, he took off his glasses and just stared at you. You could feel his eyes roaming over your figure, lingering in certain places. Eyes bright as he took in his handiwork.

“All in good time, my dear. Your questions will be answered soon enough.” He slipped on his glasses back on and stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a message to send.” His footsteps echoed down the hallway, leaving you alone with the other men in the room. One doctor lifted your left hand and wrapped it up after cleaning it up quickly. He then laid it by your side, as the others busied themselves with bandaging your other wounds. You weren’t sure why they were doing this or why they even bothered. You were practically dead anyways.

They didn’t clean or bathe you, they just bandaged whatever cut, stab wound, bullet hole, etc. they could find. So you let them, you let them handle you, however, way they chose, not like you could stop them even if you tried. It wasn’t much longer until you felt yourself being wheeled back towards the back of the room. Bane walked up and handcuffed both your wrists to the metal bars of the bed they transferred you to. The transfer hurt like a son of a bitch, you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, but you welcomed the pain. It reminded you that you were still alive. Barely, but alive.

Now it was just knowing how much longer it was going to stay that way.

                                                 ------------------

                                                   Bucky’s POV

One month, three days, and four hours. It’s actually quite funny when you look at it, how this short of time makes it feel as if a year has passed. Because it surely felt like it did.

I tried my best to stay busy, spending most of my free time in the gym, burning off all the extra energy, frustration and anger off. Fury thought it was best if I stepped down from bigger missions for a while, but I was cleared for smaller missions.

However, I could no longer go on my own, because the bastards knew I would just abandon the mission altogether and go hunt down the bastard who took her. Of course, that was a few days ago. I did try to steal, well borrow, a quinjet and leave on my own, but fucking Steve had to find me and pretty much drag me back into the compound. So I was put on a forty-eight hour lockdown, or at least until I calmed the fuck down. Like that was ever going to happen. The only way I was going to fully calm down is when Y/N was safe in my arms again. To feel her arms around me again.

Thankfully the room I was locked in wasn’t all that bad, it didn’t feel like a prison, just a small room from a dinky motel. A bed with a simple comforter, a bathroom, and a small TV. There wasn’t much for me to do in here, I’ve read all the available reading material that was stashed in here. Even had my own special spot to mark the days I’ve been in here. At least this time it was only for a forty-eight hour period instead of being cooped up in here for a few days. I was getting out later today, it took forever for two days to pass.

Closing my eyes for the umpteenth time, I tried to get some sleep, but that was short lived when the door burst open, practically tearing off its hinges. I bolt out of bed when I take in Steve’s appearance. His skin was deathly pale, a light sheen of sweat covered his face, eyes wide with shock, anger, murder, fear, god there were so many emotions flickering across his face it was hard to keep track.

“Steve? What the hell is going on? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I take a tentative step towards him, my own nerves going off like fireworks. My instincts already told me that something really bad happened if it made Steve break the door down. But the longer he stayed silent, the more I grew irritated.

“Steve, you better tell me what the fuck is going on before I’m going to have to force it out of you.”

“He sent us a package….,” his eyes finally locked with mine, “it’s for you.”

“Yeah….and?” Steve’s skin seemed to grow paler. “Buck, there’s blood on the box.”

My heart stopped and I couldn’t breathe. Besides the newspaper message, this was the only thing we got from him. The only information we had on Y/N. I let my feet take control, letting them steer me out of the room, towards the elevator and to where everyone else staring at the box, expecting it to explode in their faces. My eyes locked onto it and sure enough, there was blood on the box. But more than I thought there would be, it was smeared all over the sides and across the top. It was fucking everywhere.

I slowly walk up to it, actually contemplating if something was going to pop out and grab me. But nothing did, instead, there were clear instructions on the top that it was “For J.B.B. Eye’s Only”. I accepted the knife Nat offered me and hovered it over the top where it’s taped down. I took a deep breath and sliced open the tape. Placing the knife on the tabletop, I slowly opened up the flaps. The air around us went tense as everyone held their breath, anxiously and nervously waiting to see what the box contained. Everyone’s view of the contents was blocked, giving me space to open it. But I regretted it as soon as I opened it.

“Oh, god,” my stomach churns, gut clenches and my face pales. Inside the box laid on black charcoal silk with a red Hydra insignia in the center, was the Stark contraption Tony and Bruce invented for Y/N. It was covered in dark crimson and a few pieces of dried flesh. But the object beside it, made me stumble backward to the wall, breathing heavily. Y/N’s ring finger, her engagement ring still attached was placed carefully in an indent of the black silk. The room blurred as the team rushed around in a fury.

They each took turns in peaking inside it, each one coiling back in shock and horror. I started to shake, giving my legs permission to drop me to the floor. Flashes flickered across my mind in a frenzy. Y/N laying in a dark room, bleeding to death, hand infected from the missing finger. Lying there helpless, unable to move, completely motionless with no way to defend herself. I was supposed to protect her and I couldn’t be there to even do that. I felt so defeated, angry, horrified, pissed off. (Brothers name) brother surely knows what he’s doing, he’s playing with me, toying with my mind and he knows what effect it’s having on me.

All I could focus on right now was the burning anger welling up within me. This bastard’s had Y/N long enough and I no longer cared what happened to me, I needed to get her back. If you could see me, you’d be smart enough not to approach me, as for I was in killer mode, burning holes into the floor. And they knew something was definitely up.

“Buck? Bucky talk to me? Please don’t do anything stupid.” Steve was crouched down a few feet in front of me, knowing it’s best to give me space. I don’t say anything, instead, I stand up and start to walk out of the room.

“Buck, where are you going?” Without a second thought, I rear back and punch a hole into the concrete wall. My breath was ragged, a low growl rumbles deep within my chest. All I saw was red.

I needed to kill someone.

And that person was Y/N’s capture. My hand exits the hole, falling into a tighter fist at my side. The urge to hit something was growing immensely, however, the urge, want and need to kill someone grew even stronger.

“Buck?”

“Steve, I really need to hit someone. Fuck, I need to kill someone. So if you’re not volunteering for either, I think it’s best you leave me be. I suggest you don’t come to the gym for a while.” It was no easy task to get those words out, let alone to hold back from adding another hole in the wall to match.

“Bu-” I whirled around and crowded Steve’s space, causing everyone to go on alert.

“When we find that fucker, no one, absolutely no one lays a finger on him! That bastard is mine and mine alone. I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch and you’ll stay the fuck out of my way.” He gave me a nod in understanding, knowing full well not to get between me and my target. He grips my shoulder tightly, eyes hard and full of hate.

“Bucky, when you find him. Give him hell and make sure it hurts.” I nod at him curtly, then leave to head towards the gym, really needing to beat something up.

“I’m coming for you Y/N. I’m coming for you and that bastard. You better be ready, because there’s no way you’re making it out of this alive and in one piece, you piece of Hydra shit.” I grumble to myself with each heavy step I took. Someone was going to die and I’m going to fucking enjoy it.

Part 13 - Coming Soon! 

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