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cloudystevie · 7 months

Text

scary my god you're divine

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pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

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Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary.

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know.

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…”

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them.

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious.

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion.

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way.

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours.

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James.

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy.

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand.

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours.

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length.

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine.

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits.

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.”

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul.

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive.

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself.

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents.

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fanfiction

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novlr · 7 months

Note

How to write loneliness?

Loneliness is a universally shared emotion that shapes the psyche of your characters and the world they inhabit. It’s a silent force that can drive and change your characters, adding layers of complexity and pathos to their development. Here are some quick tips to write about characters experiencing loneliness.

Behaviour

May avoid social interactions.

Often choose to isolate themselves.

A lack of enthusiasm for activities they once enjoyed.

May appear distracted, distant, or aloof.

Neglect their personal appearance or living space.

Overuse technology or social media as a substitute for real-life interaction.

Engage in one-sided conversations with pets or inanimate objects.

Have a rigid routine that keeps them isolated.

Live vicariously through fictional characters in books and on TV.

Resist attempts by others to engage with them socially.

Interactions

Conversations may be brief, superficial, and lacking in depth.

Avoid eye contact and physically withdraw in social settings.

Miss social cues or respond inappropriately during interactions.

Exhibit envy or resentment towards those with strong social connections.

Overly formal or distant, even with friends.

React negatively to offers of companionship or help.

Express a cynical or negative view of relationships and friendships.

Display relief when social interactions are over.

Deflect personal questions and redirect the conversation.

Have a small social circle but lack a true confidant or intimate relationships.

Body language

Slumped shoulders or lowered head to avoid drawing attention.

Minimal or restrained gestures during conversations.

A fixed or blank expression, showing their detachment.

Fiddle with objects or their clothing as a self-soothing behaviour.

Cross their arms or legs defensively when approached.

Sit or stand at the edges of a group, physically distancing themselves.

Might have a nervous tick or habit when faced with social interaction.

Exhibit slow or lethargic movements, suggesting a lack of energy or interest.

Have a personal bubble they are reluctant to let others penetrate.

Usually the last to arrive and the first to leave social gatherings.

Attitude

Express a philosophical or poetic view on the nature of solitude.

Have an air of resignation or acceptance of their loneliness.

Harbour a secret hope of finding connection, but feel it is unattainable.

Quick to criticise or judge others as a defence mechanism.

Have a deep internal world that is rich and complex, contrasting with their outer displays of loneliness.

Believe that they are fundamentally different or disconnected from others.

Have a strong sense of self-reliance, seeing it as a necessity.

Demonstrate a fear of rejection or abandonment that prevents them from reaching out.

Heightened sensitivity to the pain of others, stemming from their own loneliness.

Experience moments of clarity or creativity when they are alone.

Positive story outcomes

Find strength and independence in solitude.

Experience personal growth and self-discovery.

Form a meaningful connection that alleviates their loneliness.

Gain a deeper understanding and empathy for the loneliness of others.

Use their time alone to develop a skill or pursue a passion.

Find that solitude allows for reflection and the development of a clear perspective.

Inspire others to appreciate their own company and find peace in solitude.

Become a catalyst for change, helping others to overcome their loneliness.

Create a work of art or literature that expresses their feelings and connects with others.

Their experiences of loneliness make their relationships more meaningful when they do occur.

Negative story outcomes

Become increasingly detached and withdrawn from the world.

Develop mental health issues such as depression or anxiety.

Make poor decisions due to a lack of guidance and support.

Grow to resent others, leading to conflicts and misunderstandings.

Spiral into destructive behaviours as a way to cope.

Experience a sense of hopelessness about ever finding connection.

Become distrustful of others, hindering potential relationships.

Lose touch with social norms and struggle to reintegrate into society.

Overlook or sabotage potential opportunities for companionship.

Leave a lasting impression of sadness and regret in the narrative.

Helpful vocabulary

Forlorn

Sequestered

Estranged

Abandoned

Reclusive

Isolated

Adrift

Detached

Solitary

Alienated

Despondent

Forsaken

Lonesome

Marooned

Melancholic

Ostracised

Remote

Unaccompanied

Vacant

Withdrawn

Yearning

Bereft

Disconnected

Outcast

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 7 months

Note

vox more than anything fic ending with fluffy makeup sex is all i need :,))) LET ME HOLD THAT TV MAN!!!

I didn't end up adding the spice because it didn't flow naturally with how this came out. I do headcanon that Vox would 100% try to initiate spicy times during a makeup because he wouldn't know how to handle the emotional vulnerability in any other way. Homeboy hasn't exactly had any healthy fight aftermaths. Hope yall are ready for the fluffy pain <3

Tag List: @luzzbuzz

More Than Anything Part 3 [Vox x Reader]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5 (Vox POV)

Things at the Vee's Tower seemed relatively normal when you stepped into the lobby. It felt a little weird if anything. When Vox was upset, it could shut down the entire tower for days on end if it was something more serious. You didn't hear the hum of the overbearing generators that would keep things running during his fits and your worry only grew as you stepped into the elevator. You swallowed down your anxiety as you scanned your badge that would let you onto the elite floor where the penthouses of the Vee's were at the top.

Did something happen to Vox? Was he not here for some reason? Where would he go? Did he... just not care?

Anxiety swirled in your mind as the elevator doors slid open. You saw Velvette on the couch scrolling through her phone and the young overlord perked up when she saw you.

"Bout fucking time," she groaned as she pocketed her phone and got off the couch. "Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it's been to babysit the man-child?" Velvette poked at your chest and you couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes as she frowned at you. "You owe me for this."

Ninety percent of hell didn't see past Velvette's tough-as-nails exterior and if it hadn't been for the time you'd spent with the Vee's due to your relationship with Vox, you doubt you would have ever seen through the cracks in her demeanor either. For all her bark and bite, you could tell she cared for Vox and Valentino deeply. She wouldn't look so damn exhausted right now if she didn't.

"I'll make it up to you," you sigh in relief as you drop your bag to the side. "Where is he?"

To say you were less than pleased when you saw the door held shut by the smokey chains of Valentino's magic was an understatement. You were pissed. While you still felt a semblance of gratitude for the other Vee's keeping Vox from doing anything rash, you were going to tear them both a new one for keeping him caged like a fucking animal.

Velvette lifted her hands and got the cue to leave as you triggered your demon form and slashed Valentino's magic to wispy shreds. You yanked open the door and your eyes searched the room for Vox maniacally. There we no cameras and the windows had been covered with some sort of blockers. It looked like the Vee's had the sense to leave him with some comfort items and non-tech-involved things to pass the time, but the only technology you saw was some ancient Nokia-looking phone lying by his foot that he wouldn't be able to use to teleport out of the room.

"Vox?" You breathed as you saw him curled up in a corner with his screen buried against his knees.

His head whipped up and he breathed your name, only to curse as his body glitched hard from the prolonged stress.

"Y̶o̸u̴ ̸c̶a̷m̴e̸ ̸b̶a̸c̸k̴?̷," he asks, and your heart aches as you watch him flinch at the static in his voice.

"Oh hun, come here," you sigh as you get down on your knees and pull his screen towards you. You didn't know much about tech, but his personal repair sinner had shown you some of the basics to take care of Vox if anything ever got out of hand.

You reached around the back of his head and did a hard reset for him, holding him close to you as he went limp against your chest. When Vox powered back up, he flinched hard and pushed himself away from you, backing up with wide eyes and frantic breathing before he processed it was you who had been holding him and not Valentino.

"Woah! Easy," you gasp, not expecting the sudden movement. You look over him and instantly regret leaving him for as long as you had. "What... What happened?"

Vox's heart was pounding rapidly in his chest as flashes of Valentino's manipulative words flitted through his mind. The promises of affection if he crawled back. The venom in his voice as he told Vox you'd never love him again. The back and forth between gentle lies and cold hard truths. The one time he almost, almost caved into Valentino's whims.

With a shaky breath, Vox stomped down on as much of his weakness as he could and turned away from you. "It's not important."

"Like hell, it's not," you frowned as you reached toward him, only to pause as he flinched at the tone in your voice.

It was obvious there was a whole new can of worms to handle and most likely a moth to strangle. But you steady yourself and take a deep breath, deciding to take things one step at a time.

"I'm sorry for leaving," you start slowly as you sit properly on the floor with Vox. "I was scared and angry and processing everything. I needed space. But I should have at least texted you back or checked in. I didn't..." your voice wavers. "I didn't think that..."

"It's fine," Vox sighed. "I get it. What I don't get is why you're here. Why did you come back?"

"I was always going to come back," you say as you reach towards him slowly. Your heart ached to know he had genuinely started to believe you'd just abandon him, but given the pieces of the unsettling image of what happened while you were gone, you understood where it was coming from.

Vox looks at you and hesitates before he leans into your touch and lets you cup the side of his face. "I was angry and hurt and scared," you admit. "I needed time to process my feelings. I didn't want to say something I'd regret."

You shake your head and chuckle, "I'd say I should have known better, but this is our first big fight now that I think about it. It's uncharted territory for us both."

Vox was silent as he slowly reached up and took your hand. He let out a shaky breath as he looked down. "I've... any connection I've had with someone. It's never... survived this sort of thing. Once shit hits the fan, that tends to be the end of it. I thought... I thought you were gone for good."

"I won't let you think that ever again," you say as you cup the other side of his face with your free hand. You make him look at you, but you're gentle. "We'll talk about this. I'm in this for the long run, you dorky TV man."

"But I tricked you," Vox shook. His face flickered between heartbreak and frustration. "I stole your soul. You have no reason to fucking t̵͍͌r̸̰̈u̵͉̍s̸̯͛ẗ̶̫ me."

"I love you," you say without hesitation. Vox's eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to retort, but you shake your head and stop him. "You did a bad thing. You did break my trust. But I know why you did it. Loving you doesn't mean I'll forgive you every time you cross a major boundary, but it does mean that I will do whatever it takes to worth through the bullshit together," you say softly.

Your thumb swipes over Vox's screen as you feel him tremble in your hold. "You're worth that effort to me, Vox."

"Why?" Vox asked as his eyes darted over your face as if the answer to his confusion would be found there. He didn't understand. How could you come back? How could you want to forgive him? How could you be here in front of him, looking like he was the one who hung the stars in the sky rather than the one who drew souls to their doom like a siren song on a screen?

You kiss his forehead and pull him close as he shakes harder in your arms. "W̸̻͝h̴͖̒y̵̞̍?̵̝̕"

His claws dig into the back of your shirt as he hangs onto you like a lifeline. "I̵ ̷d̴o̶n̵'̶t̶.̴.̶.̵," Vox growls in frustration at the emotion that sticks in his throat. "I can't... I don't d̷e̴s̶e̷r̷v̴e̷ this."

"Because loving you has never been about what either of us deserves," you sigh as you kiss his head. "It's because despite everything, I know I could never replace you. So I'm willing to put in the work if you are."

A broken sob ripped itself from Vox's chest unwillingly as he held you tighter. Your heart broke, knowing this very well could be the first time anyone had actually tried to stick around after any of his fuck-ups. You held him close, rubbing his back as he worked through his emotions. You were there for him as he glitched and let out an anguished scream as everything he'd been holding in for so long finally poured out.

You don't know how long it is before he finally calms down. He looks up at you and you know his eyes would be bloodshot from the breakdown if that was how his screen functioned. He let out a deep breath and you smiled softly as he cupped your cheek.

"This isn't the first time I've thought you didn't belong down here," Vox admitted. His voice was hoarse from exhaustion and the pure angst session some cruel fucker decided would be entertaining to put him through. If he ever found that bitch, he'd wrangle her neck.

You laugh as you feel tears prick the corner of your eyes as you finally see the familiar spark in his eyes for the first time since you'd come back. "Nah, you know heaven wouldn't know the first thing about how to put up with my shit."

Vox barked out a tired laugh. "Damn right, they wouldn't. You're a menace."

"Yeah," you giggle as you press a kiss to his cheek. "But I'm your menace."

Vox reached up, his fingers tangling softly in your hair as he brought you in for a proper kiss. "Yeah. You're my menace. And I love you, more than anything."

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox

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wkemeup · 2 years

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The Bet

summary: The agents at SHIELD have not taken well to Bucky’s pardon. When he’s injured on a mission under suspicious circumstances, you take matters into your own hands.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon level violence, bucky’s internalized self-punishing issues, shield agents being real pieces of shit, badass reader who would defend bucky to the death

a/n: I know I’ve been really inactive lately (life’s actually been going well so I’ve been busier but that leaves me less time to write unfortunately), but I’m still lurking here! This is a fic I wrote several months ago but finally got around to editing it. Hope you enjoy!

Bucky wasn’t sure how you managed it – the punch to his gut every time you walked in the room. You were dressed in your tactical suit; black fabric draped over every inch of your body, protective layers of Kevlar and technology beyond Bucky’s years, a weapon strapped to your thigh and knives hidden in your belt and at your ankle. Your hair was tugged out of place, sweat beaded on your temple from the sparring match in the gym moments before the two of you were called to service. In your right hand, you carried your combat boots, the laces hanging low enough to touch the ground.

And still, Bucky held his breath as you approached. Stomach in knots, chest tightening until his heart threatened to stop entirely.

“My offer is fifty this time,” you announced, winking in his direction before you turned to head for the landing bay. “Take it or leave it, Barnes.”

It was a game you’d been playing since your first mission together. A running bet to determine the better combat fighter. You’d insisted on measuring it not by the number of Hydra agents taken down or the bullets left in the magazine at the end of the mission, but by who walked away with the least damage on their body. A competition in the lack of scars.

He suspected it was your effort to distract him, to center his mind on something other than the crushing weight on his chest as he stepped into yet another Hydra stronghold. With his pardon only coming through the official channels three months prior and the nightly news still debating whether he should be locked in a psychiatric hospital or executed for his crimes, Bucky didn’t mind a little distraction.

He wasn’t sure what to make of you at first – this woman who cared so little for the eggshells scattered around his wake. Thin, broken pieces shattered under your steps, sharp edges digging into the soles of your feet and you did not flinch. You never hesitated in your teasing, never withdrew a cautious touch from the hardened steel of his left arm, never treated him as though he were fragile or unhinged. Instead, you placed bets on the outcomes of your shared missions as if his lethality was something to respect, to admire.

Part of him wondered whether it was your attempt to keep him unharmed. The winner would have the least number of cuts and bruises – the least physical pain endured. Bucky had no problem using his body as the weapon it was designed to be, even if it meant being reckless in his own skin. It was what he’d been trained to do for decades; constantly reminded that his body was not his own to command, not his own to protect and shield. The mission came first. The mission always came first. Above his safety. Above his comfort. Above his sanity. Hydra cared little for how damaged he walked away from a fight as long as he did as he was ordered. But not you.

No, you never could seem to hide the subtle twitch of relief as he won bet after bet. How your shoulders seemed to lose the tension aching in your muscles as you handed over the winnings he did not want. Because it meant you’d lost – that you’d been injured more than he had – and Bucky wanted no part in celebrating such a win.

“I don’t want your money, Y/n,” Bucky said as he did before each mission. He fell in line beside you as rookies parted down the hallway with each approaching step. Most kept their head down, eyes averted. But not all. Some openly stared at him as if they might bore holes into his tactical suit.

“Who says I’m paying you shit?” you scoffed, a smirk edging at the corner of your mouth. “Fifty, Barnes. You on or what?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, fine. I’m in.”

You walked with a slight bounce in your step after he agreed and Bucky could not stop the smile as it tugged on his cheeks.

By the time you reached the quinjet, the team of agents was huddled in the loading dock awaiting orders. Steve stood with a hand leaning against the pilot’s chair, the other hooked on the font of his belt. The rest of the team – a group of highly trained SHIELD agents dressed in full combat gear tensed as Bucky followed you onto the jet.

“Thanks for joining us,” Steve welcomed sarcastically though there was humor in his grin. You rolled your eyes and held up your unlaced boots as if that would be answer enough that you were caught off guard for the unplanned mission.

“Not all of us wait eagerly outside Fury’s door for scraps of adrenaline,” you teased and tossed a wink over your shoulder at Bucky.

Steve bit his tongue to hold back a laugh. He turned to one of the agents lingering by the cockpit. “Get us in the air.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent responded and quickly jumped into the pilot’s seat.

Steve made his way to the table at the center of the jet where the building’s schematics were illuminated in three dimensional holographic lasers. Bucky exhaled a heavy breath as he followed, studying the lights as they detailed every inch of the building he would infiltrate in a matter of a few hours. He kept his right hand down by his side in an effort to not reach out and touch the floating blueprints.

“Y/n will lead Team B through the back entrance and up to the second floor,” Steve explained as he widened the schematics with a single swipe of his hand. The floor print zoomed into the level he was describing.

“Meanwhile, I’ll lead Team A through the main floor,” he continued and adjusted the visual to display the path he intended to take. “We’ll come in hot through the primary entrance. Draw as much attention as we can. That’ll give Bucky the time he needs to track down the Berlin files.”

Bucky swallowed as many of the agents turned to look at him. Steve had briefed him ahead of time on the mission so he knew he would be taking this one on his own. He knew the building better than anyone else, better than anyone who had studied the blueprints. He knew Hydra better than anyone else. Whether he was stored in this particular site was irrelevant. He understood how Hydra operated, enough to determine where they’d keep the sort of information that could bring the organization to its knees. It made the most sense.

Clinical. Rational.

“He’s going alone?” you questioned, your voice quieter than Bucky was expecting. Your focus was solely on Steve, brows knotted at the center. There was a soft waver of concern in your tone he was sure did not go unnoticed by the rest of the team. You’d seen Bucky’s right-hand curl to an aching fist enough times at the mention of his former captors. You knew the wounds were still fresh, the ink on his pardon barely dried.

Steve nodded reluctantly. “We’re going to make a lot of noise, but don’t mistake me. This is a stealth op. Giving Bucky a team is only going to slow him down.”

“You could at least give him back up,” you argued, the gentle hesitancy dropped from your tone. Your hands planted firmly on your hips. Tension coated thick into the room.

Bucky was about to step in, to put a careful hand on your shoulder and tell you he could handle himself just fine, that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe he’d crack a joke. Maybe then he could brush off your concerns and the knots in his stomach as simple worry for a reliable partner. But one of the senior agents – Hanning – cleared his throat first.

“She’s right, Cap,” Hanning said. “It’s not a good idea to send him in alone.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief, looking to Steve with a challenging smirk, but Bucky knew Hanning’s words for what they were. His stomach bottomed as he started to reach for you, to pull you back from the room before you could hear the rest of what Hanning was surely about to say. Bucky could read it on each of the agents’ faces – how they all looked down their noses at him, how thier gazes flickered to the reflection of his left arm in disgust, how they tensed the moment he stepped on board the jet. Humiliation burned hot in his cheeks before Hanning even uttered another word.

“See!” you hit Steve lightly on the arm. You grinned back in Bucky’s direction and did not see the dread weighing in his eyes. “Just give him two guys. Just enough to make sure he’s—”

“—watched. We all know the Winter Soldier can’t be trusted alone in a Hydra facility.”

You stilled at Hanning’s words. Bucky watched the edge of your jaw flicker as you clenched the muscle, your hands gripping tight to the edge of the table. Bucky wondered if it might splinter under your hold.

“Excuse me?” Venom dripped from your tongue on every syllable.

“You said it yourself,” Hanning replied with a short shrug of his shoulders, as if you had simply misheard him. “The Winter Soldier shouldn’t be left on his own. No telling what he’d do unsupervised. Especially around his old buddies.”

You flinched – actually flinched.

To Bucky, this wasn’t anything new. The serum has cursed him with heightened senses strong enough to overhear the quiet whispering when he entered the gym, the nervous murmuring of rookie agents who had grown up on ghost stories of his most prolific crimes. He noticed every frantic skip of a frightened heartbeat and every cold, seething glare of an agent whose loathing outweighed that of his fear. There was little room for anything else amongst the agents within SHEILD.

You – and only a few others among the Avengers – were the exception.

His pardon was conditional. He couldn’t afford the kind of trouble these agents were egging him into. One step out of line and he’d find himself with a lifetime sentence on the raft. Maybe that was what he deserved, but he couldn’t risk retaliating against the agents, couldn’t so much as chance a bitter word thrown back in their faces. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit that it was only in fear of not seeing you again that held his tongue.

Bucky had grown numb to the taunts and the stares long before he stepped foot in the tower. He knew how to keep his head down, how to swallow back his pride at the expense of his dignity. He learned how to endure the humiliation, the shame. Hydra had taught him well.

You, however, did not tolerate it.

“He can’t be trusted, Cap,” Hanning went on, turning to meet Steve’s warning stare. “We’ve lost too many guys to his friends at Hydra. I don’t care what papers the President signed. You can’t let the Winter Soldier—”

“Stop calling him that,” you hissed, pounding a fist against the table. The holographic blueprints flared in response. “I said Bucky should have support in the field. Not a fucking parole officer!”

Hanning rolled his eyes; a dangerous choice to make to mock a superior agent in front of her own team. Steam billowed from your ears as several of the agents behind him began to laugh. Hanning wiped his thumb over his bottom lip, his gaze slipping down the length of your body as if to size you up, but he lingered too long. A power move, Bucky deciphered. A means to belittle you. Bucky gritted his teeth.

“He’s a war criminal,” Hanning challenged, ignoring Bucky’s calculated step in your direction.

“He was a prisoner of war!” you shot back, voice raising on every word. “Who was pardoned, by the way!”

“You think that changes anything? A piece of paper doesn’t erase the shit he’s done. Doesn’t bring back any of the SHIELD agents he murdered. Doesn’t make him any less of fuckin’ monster and we shouldn’t have to put up with his—”

“Enough!” Steve ordered, slamming a hand down on the table. The blueprints flickered out until the table powered down. “Hanning, get your men in order. I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of you until we’re back in New York. Y/n, walk it off. We land in an hour.”

Betrayal seethed in your eyes as your gaze whipped to Steve. You expected him to defend Bucky as fiercely as you did, but Bucky knew better, as did Steve. Steve’s involvement would only worsen the division between Bucky and the rest of the team. They’d turn themselves into martyrs; jump on their high horse and twist Steve’s defense to align with what they already believed – that the Winter Soldier was dangerous, untrustworthy, and corrupted everything he touched. Including the Avengers and SHIELD itself.

And maybe they were right, but it wasn’t a fight you had to be a part of. He worked very hard to ensure you knew little of it at all.

You clamped your jaw shut to keep yourself from handing Captain America his ass next and quickly turned on your heels. Your hand slid around Bucky’s wrist and without much resistance, you dragged him along with you to the other side of the jet. There, you sank against the bench along the frame of the cargo hold and began sliding your hands along your thighs. As he watched you, Bucky wondered if you might tear the fabric of your suit with how intensely you were digging your palms into the muscle.

“Hanning’s an asshole,” you grumbled. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know shit.”

You spoke as if you believed it was an isolated incident – a single, rare occurrence he should brush off his shoulders – and perhaps you did. Perhaps you truly believed that no agent would be as brazen as to mock the former Winter Soldier to his face, but you would be wrong. Their confidence grew each time he kept his head down, each time he swallowed back the rage and humiliation at their taunts.

Bucky sighed, sinking down on the bench beside you. Your hands were still raking against your thighs, your pointed glare still finding its way to the agents huddled on the opposite end of the jet. He figured if he didn’t say something soon, you might lose the battle for your better judgements and take a swing at Hanning before the jet so much as crossed Hydra airspace.

“Make it a hundred.”

You furrowed your brow, your gaze shifting to him. Already, your features began to soften. Your hands stilled against your knees. “What?”

“The bet,” Bucky clarified, forcing a smile. It didn’t touch his eyes and it ached, but it was all he could muster. “Make it a hundred this time.”

A smirk slowly lifted the corners of your mouth and Bucky felt a weight slip off his chest.

“You’re on.”

***

“Do you want know what I’m going to do with your money when I win?”

Bucky dug his teeth into his bottom lip to repress a determined smile as your labored voice crackled through his coms. He could hear the static of the radio waves and the frequent draw of your breath as you led your team in combat on the second level. You’d learned early on to switch your coms to an off-channel frequency while you were separated. Steve was the only one who was aware of the isolated channel, but he knew better than to listen in unannounced.

“Huh, Barnes?” you challenged. He could practically see your smile edging up your cheeks. “Should I tell you how I’m going to spend your hard-earned cash?”

“You do remember you’re the one engaged in combat right now and I’m on an abandoned floor alone, right? Do you hear those odds?” Bucky smirked to himself, imagining the hard roll of your eyes as you scoffed into the coms.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think, Barnes. Maybe you’ll stub your toe on a desk. Don’t underestimate my skill against these... amateurs,” you spat the last word as if to make a point to the man you were currently barreling a fist into. “Now let me tell you how I’m going to waste your money.”

“Go on,” Bucky chuckled. He stalked through the empty hallway, passing by old offices and labs as he scanned in search of the vault in question. Hydra was rather predictable that way.

“Well,” you exhaled and clearly threw a punch at your opponent by the grunt that followed, “Sam’s birthday is coming up."

Bucky froze in his tracks; any trace of a grin wiped from his features. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Your laugh echoed in his ears and damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard – took him right out of the Hydra facility he wandered through, out of the memories attached to the lifeless, concrete rooms, and brought levity back to his chest. How you managed to do that while fighting your way through a hoard of Hydra agents was beyond him.

He turned into a promising office at the end of the hallway. Lavish enough to be one of the higher officer’s, with priceless stolen art on the walls and a desk chair that resembled a small throne. He rolled his eyes.

“Six ahead! Erikson, McKinley! Go now!” You shot an order at one of your men before returning focus back to your side conversation with Bucky. He smiled at the sharpness of your tone – the authority, the respect you commanded. Just as easily, your tone shifted to the gentle teasing reserved only for him. “Maybe I’ll replace the side camera on Redwing you shattered in Guatamala last month.”

Bucky groaned and drew out your name in a long, exasperated tone as he began fumbling through a pile of stray papers on the messy desk. You started to laugh again and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the ends of his mouth. It was damn near infectious.

“Fine, fine.” Your voice was breathless; either from the fight or the laughter, Bucky wasn’t sure. “I might venture a trip out to Coney Island. I hear they have life changing soft serve.”

Bucky chuckled just as he tore open a locked drawer, shifting through the contents. “You’d have a hell of a lot of cash left over.”

“Well let’s see,” you began, a short pause followed as you knocked out another combatant. Bucky could hear the thud of the body at your feet. “Two tickets on the train, two world-renown ice cream cones. It adds up, Barnes.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. A sudden unwelcomed pit formed in his stomach as he straightened his back, his hands slipping from their task at the desk. He swallowed, though his throat was dry.

“Two? Who would you—”

“Are you really telling me you don’t want to show me around your old stomping grounds?” you teased, as if he should have assumed you’d only ever been talking about him. “I can be generous with your money, Buck. I’ll even treat you to a funnel cake if you want.”

Butterflies swarmed in his stomach, his teeth gnawing at his lips to suppress the grin and the flush in his cheeks. He didn’t dare look up at the Hydra symbol painted on the wall ahead of him, but he wondered then if the memory of it might have any effect at all in the wake of your laughter through the coms.

“That so?” he managed to reply, trying to find a piece of himself from the forties that could talk to a woman without stumbling over his words. His heart was pounding. Thundering. His hands gripped the edge of the desk in effort to stop the shaking of adrenaline, but it was such a lovely feeling.

“I might even win you a stuffed animal.”

Bucky exhaled as if it might relieve the pleasant aching in his cheeks. “Those games are rigged, you know.”

“I have my tricks.”

A throat cleared at the doorway.

Bucky jolted, his hand on the trigger and safety unlatched before he got a good look at the face of the man watching him from the hallway. His smile fell as he froze – the sound of your voice calling to him through the coms went unanswered. You must have heard the sudden hitch in his breath, noticed just by the short gasp of air that something was wrong.

Hanning didn’t so much as flinch as he stared down the barrel of Bucky’s gun. His arms were folded over his chest, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. Bucky didn’t dare wonder how long he’d been there watching. He was losing his edge. Distracted in the one place he was supposed to be clinical above all else.

Slowly, Bucky lowered the gun and latched the safety. Hanning cracked his neck to the side as six of his men emerged from the hall behind him. Bucky gritted his teeth and raised a hand to his coms.

“I’m going dark.”

No time at all passed before you argued, “don’t you dare! Not while you’re out there alone.”

Bucky kept clear watch of Hanning and the six agents slowly making their way into the room, knuckles cracking against their hips, stretching their arms. A quiet anger simmered under the surface – boiling in his veins though no steam would release him from the rage it carried.

“I found the vault,” he said, the lie slipping too easily off his tongue. “It’s heavily armored. It’ll cause interference. I’ll meet you on the jet.”

He didn’t like the short clinical statements he was giving you, as if you were little more than a handler requesting report. It wasn’t like him and you knew it.

“No. Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.” Desperation clouded into your voice.

“I said I’ll meet you on the jet,” he replied sharply; harsher than he ever intended to be with you, but Hanning’s patience was wearing thin and Bucky would not stomach you being able to hear what was about to happen.

“Okay.” You were quieter now, your breaths more labored. Bucky’s stomach wrung in knots. “Just be careful.”

He turned off the coms before regret could sink in.

“No more Avenger in your ear now, huh?” Hanning jeered, a cockeyed smirk hanging on the left edge of his mouth. He shook his head, a darkness sinking into his features when Bucky refused to answer. “Christ. She’s just as pathetic as the groupie sluts camping outside the tower.”

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky growled. He knew full well of the crowd who chanted his name, holding picket signs in support of an innocence he wasn’t sure belonged to him. Bucky wasn’t convinced they knew much of anything about his crimes. He often wondered if they would still draw hearts around his name if they knew the volume of blood on his hands.

Hanning scoffed. “She used to be a damn good agent before you started fucking with her head, you know that? Maybe if I take her to bed next, she’ll start defending my honor, too.”

The desk cracked under Bucky’s grip; splintered under his palms. It didn’t matter that he’d never touched you in that way. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t so much as whispered a breath to the torch he carried for you. But reputation and rumor weighed stronger than truth. And Hanning didn’t seem to mind which served him best.

“We both know why you’re here, Hanning,” Bucky said, his voice taunt in the effort. “Stop beating around the bush.”

A vicious smirk warped Hanning’s features as he signaled to his men. Bucky steeled himself – an agonizing, familiar feeling – and he waited for the first blow to land.

***

Bucky took his time returning to the jet. He didn’t bother turning his coms back on after he begrudgingly tore open the vault door at the back of the office and obtained the files SHIELD was after. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to stomach the onset of questions you’d throw his way, the inevitable concern in your voice, or the lies that would slip too easily from his tongue.

You and Steve would have already returned to the quinjet by now and he was certain you were wearing a tread into the floor of the debrief room. If he closed his eyes, he might have been able to picture your arms folded tightly across your chest, the scowl creating lines down your forehead, and the hushed grumble as you muttered under your breath, eyes constantly darting back to the door in search of him.

Bucky took no pleasure in his lies. He did not enjoy the slight hitch of concern in your voice as you begged him to stay on coms. No— it tore into his chest in such a way he was left wondering if there would be anything left at all if he continued this way.

But you couldn’t know.

You couldn’t know the truth of how far men like Hanning would go to appease their fragile egos. How agents of an organization you dedicated your life to abused their power and a loophole in the system to ensure they could pull one over on the Winter Soldier in favor of bragging rights and a misguided sense of justice. You couldn’t know it wasn’t Hydra that left him bruised and battered after these missions, but instead the agents under your watch.

Bucky paused as he came up on the ramp to the back of the jet. In the vague reflection of the charcoal surface was a trail of welts and bruising covering most of his face. Red had seeped into the white of his left eye. The center of his bottom lip was split open; blood dripped down his chin and left stray droplets against the chest of his jacket. He quickly brushed his wrist against his mouth, smearing the blood onto his hand instead and made his way inside.

Hanning was standing at the edge of the debrief room as his team passed behind him. He raised his hand to you in what appeared to be a mocking salute. You did not react; your arms folded over your chest just as Bucky had imagined and an irritable glare compressed most of your features. But your eyes shifted to the bloody and broken skin on Hanning’s knuckles as his lowered his hand back to his side. You turned and watched him as he joined the rest of the agents.

Bucky swallowed and pressed the button at the mouth of the jet to retract the ramp. While you were distracted by Hanning, Bucky shook his hair into his face, keeping his head down, and made his way to the debrief room as he was required to do. He would not be able to hide the damage to his face for long, but if he could at least conceal your reaction from Hanning and the rest of the team, it might be enough to preserve what remained of his dignity.

You turned and walked back inside the debrief room and Bucky exhaled a heavy breath. As he followed shortly in behind you, he wasn’t surprised to find you had quickly resumed pacing along the back wall of the room. The carpet was slightly discolored under your path.

Only when Bucky closed the door behind him did you notice his presence.

You froze, eyes darting across the room. The relief that sank your shoulders was instant, but brief, because the moment you took in more than just his physical body safe inside the jet, a wash of anger and panic absorbed any traces of solace.

You rushed across the room to him, hands hovering over his shoulders, his forearms, his torso – as if you were seeking to touch him but would not dare to lay a hand upon his body in fear of shattering him whole. Your eyes frantically scanned the open scarring and bruising on his face, searching for more wounds you could not see.

“What the hell happened to you?” You made no effort to obscure the panic trembling in your voice.

“Hydra,” he replied shortly, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. He looked across the room to Steve, who was standing with his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Reluctance clouded the blues of his eyes but he did not contradict Bucky’s story.

“There shouldn’t have been anyone on that floor. You said it was abandoned! That was the whole point of drawing them all to us. You should have been clear!” you tried to reason and shot a glance at Steve to confirm, but his gaze lowered to the floor. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Did you get the files at least? Since you insisted on turning off your damn coms to get them?”

Your anger was a mask. Bucky could tell that much for certain by how your eyes shifted consistently to the blood in his left eye and the split on his lip. Fear was not an emotion you took kindly to, especially a fear you had no means of controlling.

Bucky steeled his features the best he could and pulled the rolled file from the inside pocket of his jacket. Blood stained the corners of the crumpled folder and he set it on the table behind you. You did not seem even remotely satisfied by its presence.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’d been compromised?” you argued, shoving the folder further down the table. “I could have sent back up to you! Dammit Bucky, I would have come to you myself! You know I would have!”

Steve cleared his throat as he stepped away from the wall, a pleading heaviness filling his eyes as his head shifted towards you – a means of begging Bucky to come forward with the truth. You deserved as much, didn’t you? You cared for him for reasons beyond what Bucky could comprehend. But there would always be that sliver of doubt; that sickening voice in the back of his mind that questioned whether you might think he deserved the retaliation he got. Bucky only shook his head at Steve to warn him into silence.

Your eyes narrowed on him, gaze following his path to Steve and back. Your instincts were not something Bucky should tread lightly around if he was intent on keeping this from you, and yet – there was some ache of relief to see the questions spinning behind your eyes, the stubbornness drawn to the surface to simply accept his ruse and pretend as though he wasn’t beaten into submission.

Just as you parted your lips, you paused; your attention caught on the monitors just beyond Bucky’s shoulder. Upon one of the screens, Hanning was dramatically mimicking a fight scene to the entertainment of the surrounding agents. The video carried no sound but it was not easy to mistake the arrogant grin upon Hanning’s face as he showed off the bloodied cuts on his knuckles. Bucky resisted touching the bruise along his jawline.

Bucky watched as you slowly moved closer to the monitor, studying every muscle in your body as you deciphered what you were seeing. Perhaps he might have been able to play it off as another one of Hanning’s pathetic attempts at boosting his ego by dramatizing a basic combat training move against a weak-willed Hydra agent, but while some of the agents looked to Hanning as if he were a god among men, some carefully – fearfully – looked over their shoulders to the debrief room. As if they were awaiting retaliation. Or punishment.

Bucky swallowed bile as your spine suddenly went taunt. A gasp drew in a sharp breath to your lungs as you quickly turned to Bucky for confirmation. Suddenly he couldn’t speak – not with the way your eyes were pleading with him to deny it. You turned to Steve next and it only took a second before you saw the weight in his eyes, the truth he’d been hiding at the will of his best friend – how it ate away at him until there was little left. Your hand clasped over your mouth.

“I’ll be outside,” Steve said quietly, sending an apologetic look in Bucky’s direction.

When the door closed behind him, you turned back to Bucky, waiting for him to say something – anything – to help you understand what happened. Hanning was an asshole, but to do something like this was unheard of. To attack a member of their own team under the ruse of a mission...

And maybe he should have confessed everything then and there, but his own fears were too strong – the possibility you might laugh in his face and side with Hanning, that you might believe him to be as vile and violent as the rest of them, undeserving of a second chance.

So instead of an explanation, he reached into his back pocket and watched as your face contorted into something akin to horror and grief as he handed you a crumbled hundred-dollar bill. His hand trembled as he extended it to you.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was barely a whisper; gaze fixated on the speckles of blood on the corners and under his nails.

Bucky released a breath, though it burned on his exhale. “You won.”

You looked as though you might suffocate under the silence that sank into the room. Tears blurred into your eyes as you slowly took the bill from him, your fingertips lingering against his hand, and tossed it onto the table behind you as if the paper had burned you.

“I don’t care about the stupid bet, Bucky! I don’t... I don’t want your money! I never wanted your money. Not ever,” you told him, voice shaking. You clenched your right hand into a fist as if it might quell the lump building in the back of your throat. “How long has this been happening?”

Bucky’s own throat was coated in gravel. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So, it has happened before.”

His stomach bottomed as he realized he’d given himself up. You were always too smart for him, too smart to fall for this pathetic ruse. He should have known better than to think he could keep this from you. He prepared himself for your anger, for your disappointment, for your mockery, but instead something akin to guilt sank into your features and Bucky swore his knees might give out entirely.

“Our own men have gone after you like this... they’ve beaten you on these missions, reported it off as field injuries, and I... I just didn’t know?”

You brushed at your tears. Bucky suddenly felt nauseous.

“This isn’t your fault,” he said quickly, giving up on any attempts at concealing his lies further. He could not stand for you to think that you played a single role in this mess. This was on him. Only him. You were only ever the light in his darkest days. You could not hold an ounce of blame for what happened. He wouldn’t allow it.

“You were in the med bay last month,” you realized suddenly, an awful mix of remorse and agony coating your features. “You were separated from the team when you were jumped. You said... You said it was Kingpin’s men but... it wasn’t, was it? SHIELD agents put you there. They were the ones who attacked you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his hand curling tightly to a fist as if that might stop the trembling. “This isn’t your burden to carry. I can take care of myself.”

“Not my burden?” you scoffed. “Look at you! Jesus, Buck. How is this even possible? You should be able to take these assholes on without breaking a sweat! I’ve seen you spar. I’ve fought alongside you. I know what you can do! Hanning barely has a scratch on him. You should have been able to knock him on his ass without—”

You froze and slowly, your shoulders sank.

“God,” you exhaled, the realization shattering every inch inside your chest as you met his eyes. “You don’t fight back. You can’t, can you? Your pardon. It’s—”

“—conditional,” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his matted hair. “One word to the council that I’ve stepped out of line and they could revoke it. I could end up on the raft for the rest of my life. And maybe... maybe I belong there anyway but I’m trying to better. To right the wrongs I’ve done. To... to be on the right side of things again. I can’t do that from behind bars. And if word got out I’m throwing punches at the good guys, that’s exactly where I’ll end up.”

“I won’t let that happen,” you swore, wasting no time in your promise. Before he realized it, you were standing only inches from him, your fingertips gently tracing the golden lines on his left hand. He wondered then how he could have ever feared mockery and disgust from a woman who touched him so tenderly.

A tired smile tugged at his broken lip. “Steve doesn’t even have the power to intervene if it came to that. Let this go, Y/n. I can take a few punches if it means getting a chance to start over.”

You winced at his words, clenching your jaw as if to choke back a sob. “You can’t keep letting them do this to you. I won’t let you.”

“What would you have me do?” Bucky asked, his voice absent of anger or challenge. It simply carried the heaviness of defeat, of acceptance. “You know what would happen if I gave the council a single reason to doubt which side I’m on. My hands are tied.”

He realized his mistake the moment a deadly calm swept over you. Clarity, like standing under the eye of storm. Your gaze darted to the monitor where Hanning was still mimicking his fight with Bucky.

“Y/n, wait!”

But you were already halfway out of the room. You did not turn back at Bucky’s plea as you stormed around the corner of the short stretch of hall and into the primary deck of the quinjet. Steve straightened from his position leaning against the wall, his eyes darting behind you where Bucky was quickly following behind. But it was not Steve you’d come in search of.

Hanning was laughing with a hoard of his men, gathered around the holograph table worth more than any of their miserable lives combined. He rolled his eyes at the sight of you, making a mockery of the fury raging into every line upon your face as you sought him out as he swatted his buddy on the arm.

The bastard even had the unearned arrogance to smirk as he foolishly turned his attention to Bucky. “Enlisting your girlfriend to fight your battles for you, huh?”

You did not so much as slow your pace, did not draw in a full breath or acknowledge the slight furrow in Hanning’s brow before you threw a punch directly to his left cheekbone. He cursed as he jolted away from you, hands flying to his face as blood began to gush down his nose.

“What the fuck is wrong with—”

You didn’t give him time to finish before you grabbed a firm hold of his collar and tossed him to the floor. Agents scrambled out of your warpath as you stalked after him.

Hanning looked up at Steve, holding onto his broken nose. Blood seeped from between his fingers. “Do something!”

Steve did not avert his gaze as he replied, “I didn’t see anything.”

Hanning’s eyes widened as you dropped to your knees beside him and fisted his collar. “Sergeant Barnes may not be able to fight back without breaking his pardon, but I sure as hell can. And unlike you, I don’t need my fights rigged to win. Lay a hand on him again and I’ll ensure you walk away from your next mission on a fucking stretcher!”

Hanning clawed at your grip, fear seeping through every line upon his face. “You can’t threaten me!”

“Wanna bet?” Your nails nearly tore through the Kevlar fabric of Hanning’s shirt. “I’m an Avenger, asshole. You’re no one. I can make sure you’re transferred to the furthest corner of this planet. You’ll wish you were in space with the tree and the goddamn racoon!”

Hanning’s panicked eyes darted back to Steve who only shrugged and turned his attention to the passing of clouds outside the cockpit windows.

Bucky couldn’t help the smirk as it tugged at his mouth. He folded his arms firmly over his chest, sinking back into his stance. This image of you – baring your teeth, vicious in every muscle, seething in defense of him – was one he would commit to memory. He’d return to it in his darkest hours when he could find no answer for the cruel voices in the back of his mind – to draw upon this moment to chase away his demons with your anger and protection.

“Are we clear?” you ordered when Hanning was too stunned to respond. He nodded frantically, as did the rest of the crew. You released Hanning’s collar and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He stayed still as stone as you slowly rose to your feet and brushed off his blood on the thighs of your pants.

Your chest heavy and steady – each breath longer than the last. You did not tear your eyes away from Hanning for even a second, ensuring he felt every ounce of the rage burning inside of you.

Bucky took a step forward, unbothered by the stares of the agents as he approached you. He set a hand on your shoulder, instantly noting the rigid tension in your muscles.

“Come with me,” he requested, his voice quiet enough only you could have heard him. You expelled a breath as if it were made of fire and slowly followed him from the room.

Bucky stepped inside the debriefing room first. He looked to the windows where clouds were passing by below the jetstream. Steady. Even. He took as much of their calm as he could manage and picked up the crumpled hundred dollar bill from the table. When he turned to face you again, he attempted to hand you the money but you held your hands up defensively and took a cautious step backward.

“Bucky, no. Please, I don’t want it,” you resisted, your voice hollow and pained. “I only made the stupid bet to get you to stop being so reckless. I don’t want your money.”

He smiled at your stubbornness, at your scheming means to keep him safe. Bucky inched closer to you, extending his left palm up until you cautiously set your hand in his. His thumb drew a careful line along your palm and you watched him with such startling precision, he wondered if you might have been committing the feeling to memory.

“What happened to our plans for Coney Island?” he asked softly.

Tears spilled over your cheekbones as a tired laugh escaped you. He pressed the bill into your palm and closed your grip around it – holding it tight at the center of your hand as gently as you might his own heart.

“I should have said something the first time it happened,” Bucky said quietly, his gaze still fixated on your closed fist resting on his palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

“No, I do.” He sighed, concentrating on the smooth skin of your hand. He skimmed his thumb along the tender skin on your knuckles, his heart suddenly heavy in his chest. “You didn’t even hesitate to defend me. Didn’t even second guess why they might have gone after me. You... you didn't question if I deserved it.”

Your face slacked at his admission. “Bucky...”

“I should have told you,” he repeated despite the burden of grief in your voice. He knew now that if he’d offered you a share of this weight from the start, that maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. Hanning wouldn’t have planned each mission to ensure he cornered Bucky on his own and got in enough swings to fuel his pathetic, sheltered ego. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t have spent so long believing this was his penance.

You lifted your free hand to the side of his face, gently settling against the bruising to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling. Your thumb brushed along a tender ache on his cheekbone but there was no pain under your touch.

“I know now,” you told him softly, “and it won’t ever happen again.”

Bucky smiled though it tugged at the split on his lip. “I know.”

You lowered your hand from his face and gently pushed the hundred-dollar bill back towards him. “Take this back, Buck. Take it back and promise we’ll still go to Coney Island.”

Bucky closed his fist around the crumpled bill and slowly nodded. You did not release his hand. You did not pull away. You only held him – touched him as though you could not stand to pull away from him.

“I swear it,” he exhaled, his gaze still fixated on your hands.

You sighed, relief slipping through your body as you smiled at him. “Think you can win me a giant bear?”

Bucky chuckled and he didn’t mind when the split on his lip ached as he smiled. “Should we bet on it?”

---

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

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes X you #bucky barnes one shot

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tabarkraed · 4 months

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Giving birth is a profound and transformative experience for any mother, but the stark contrast between bringing a child into the world during a war and in a peaceful environment is heart-wrenching. Imagine the emotional turmoil and physical hardship faced by mothers who deliver their babies in the midst of conflict, within the confines of a makeshift tent, surrounded by the constant threat of danger.

For my friend’s @bilalhammadsblog sister and sister-in-law, the journey to motherhood was fraught with fear and uncertainty. Instead of the calm and controlled environment of a hospital, they endured labor amidst the chaos of war, with explosions and gunfire as their background noise. The tent that served as their delivery room was a far cry from the sterile, well-equipped birthing suites that most mothers have. There was no access to pain relief, professional medical care, or the comforting presence of loved ones.

The conditions were harsh and unsanitary, increasing the risk of infections and complications. The lack of clean water, proper nutrition, and essential medical supplies made every moment perilous. These mothers had to summon unimaginable strength and resilience, not only to give birth but also to protect and care for their newborns in such dire circumstances.

In contrast, mothers in peaceful settings prepare for childbirth with a sense of excitement and anticipation. They attend prenatal classes, have regular check-ups, and often create a birth plan with their doctors. Their biggest concerns might be about the birth itself or the baby's health, but they are surrounded by support and resources. Hospitals are equipped with advanced technology, skilled professionals, and all the necessary amenities to ensure a safe and comfortable delivery.

For these war-affected mothers, there is no such assurance. Their overwhelming joy at meeting their babies is tinged with the constant worry of how to keep them safe and healthy in an environment that is anything but. The basic comforts and reassurances that should accompany childbirth are replaced by the harsh realities of survival.

Every cry of their babies is a reminder of the fragility of life in a war zone. The emotional toll is immense, as they grapple with the fear of losing their children to preventable illnesses or injuries caused by the surrounding conflict. The physical exhaustion from childbirth is compounded by the stress of providing for their newborns in such conditions, often without adequate rest, food, or medical care.

Despite these overwhelming challenges, these mothers display an extraordinary level of courage and love. They hold on to hope and fight every day to give their children a chance at life, even in the face of such adversity. Their strength is a testament to the incredible resilience of the human spirit, even in the darkest of times.

Please open your hearts 🤍

and donate to support these courageous mothers and their precious newborns. Your generosity can provide the essential care and comfort they desperately need during this harrowing time. Every donation is a lifeline of hope and love for these innocent lives. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

#freepalastine🇵🇸#free palestine #palestine 🍉#stand with gaza #pregnant #dp

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griffin-girl-r · 1 year

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You're not mine (Part 1)

Created: 08.10.2023

Finished: 08.10.2023

Edited: 08.10.2023

Age: 15

Word count: 1,344

Warnings: Abandonment, Child neglecting, Self harm, Blood, Blade, Arguments, Screaming, Child favoritism

Note: Please proceed with caution if you're triggered by any of the warnings above.

Request: Yes (Wattpad user) (@herospark18)

Pairing: WinterWidow

Summary: Natasha adopted you from the Red Room when you were only a baby, but when she and Bucky had their own child, she started forgetting about you.

Part 2

—

"I hate you!" You shouted, slamming the door behind you

"Y/N, we're not done!" Natasha, your mother, shouted from downstairs "Get back here!"

This was a daily occurrence by now.

The, once nonexistent, daily arguments between you and Natasha only got worse over the years.

Although Natasha isn't your biological mother, she raised you like her own after she saved you from the Red Room.

You were only 2 months old when she adopted you and everything went well. You both formed a happy little family for a while.

That was until Natasha started dating Bucky a little after your 10th birthday and she slowly started spending less and less time with you.

But not Bucky was the factor that determined your mother-daughter relationship with Natasha to drift apart.

The main reason behind everything was your 5-year-old baby sister, Tanya, who came into the world a few months after Natasha and Bucky started dating, with a little bit of help from Tony and his technology that, nowadays, seems to defy all odds.

Tanya's arrival only strengthened the bond between her parents, who had a romantic history that started years before even you were born, and, at the same time, weakened the bond between you and Natasha.

You knew the drill by now.

'Tanya is perfect.'

'Tanya is ours.'

'Tanya is innocent.'

Their voices echoed in your brain like a broken record.

Tanya knows that she can get away with everything and Tanya does get away with everything.

Since her birth, it was as if Natasha had completely forgotten about your existence.

It began by ignoring you while she focused her attention solely on Tanya.

She wouldn't feed you anymore, wake you up for school, or cuddle you at night.

She didn't even notice that you changed.

But, how could she, when Tanya was everything she noticed?

—

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

Determination was etched on your pale face as you picked up the blade that was on your sink.

It became a relief for you.

Sliding that blade on your wrist helped you forget about the unbearable pain in your chest.

The crimson blood that was pooling from the cuts held your attention. The pain of being abandoned by two different mothers was momentarily shoved at the back of your mind.

You started harming yourself 2 years ago when you couldn't take Natasha's ignorance any more.

You haven't told anyone and it's not like they would care if they knew anyways. Tanya was the center of their world, not you.

She was the perfect baby, while you were the adopted bastard and a grand mistake that Natasha made.

Natasha never admitted it out loud but you understood the message from the way she was treating you.

The blade fell down from your hand into the sink.

'Is it all because she never gave birth to me?'

And you stared at the trail of blood it left on the white sink.

'Are adopted kids not important, just because they're not blood related?'

You slowly understood.

'Will I ever be treated the same as Tanya?'

The only one left to understand was Natasha.

—

"Y/N, do you want to play with my dolls later?" Tanya asked you a few hours later, during dinner

You pulled at the sleeves of your hoodie even more, hiding your hands inside of them.

"Sure, Tatu." You gave the small child a shy smile "I think I'd like that."

"Tatiana." Natasha sternly looked at Tanya but the tone of her voice was soft "Remember we have a movie night tonight. You can play with Y/N another time."

"Can Y/N come too?" Tanya's big, innocent eyes sparkled while she asked, as Natasha refilled the girl's glass of orange juice

"I think she has more important things to do." Natasha replied, not even bothering to ask what you want "We're going to have a mother-daughter night. It's going to be just us two, sweetheart. Wouldn't it be fun?"

"Yay!" Tanya cheered, throwing her arms in the air

But as she did, she accidentally knocked over the glass filled with juice.

"Oh oh..." Tanya said, looking at the spilled juice "Sorry, Mama."

"Don't worry, baby girl." Natasha smiled, sitting up to clean the mess "Accidents happen."

"That's not what you said the last time when I accidentally knocked over my glass of water." You bitterly spat out at Natasha

"You have no right to talk, Y/N." Natasha snapped at you "Shut up!"

"Natalia, honey, calm down." Bucky, who was sitting beside Natasha, put his hand on her arm "She didn't do anything wrong. She's just a kid."

"She's not a kid, James." Natasha shouted, turning her head in Bucky's direction "She's a grown-up teenager now."

"Talia, I think you are just overreacting right now." Bucky kept trying to calm his wife, sparing a glance in your direction

He looked down at your plate that was untouched, the effect of your lack of appetite obvious on your skinny and fragile frame.

"I think I'm full." You quickly sat up from the table

"Sit back down, right in this instance, Y/N." Natasha shouted at you "You don't disrespect your mother like that and get away with it."

"Well, lately, you didn't act like a mother at all." You shouted back at Natasha, pain evident in your voice, but Natasha was oblivious to it "All you care about is Tanya."

"Because she's my child!" Natasha screamed offended "It's only normal to care for her."

"I used to be your child as well!" You shouted, tears forming in your eyes "I still am your child."

"You're not mine!" Natasha shouted and you widened your eyes shocked "You're not anything to me! You aren't my child because you don't have my blood. I didn't carry you or feel you grow day by day inside of me. But with Tanya, I did. You are just a mistake, Y/N!"

"You are the mistake here, Mom!" You cried, slightly lifting your sleeves as Bucky's eyebrows shot in his hairline "Look!" You showed your scarred wrists to the woman "This is all because of you! Why can't you love me like any mother should do? Blood shouldn't be important! You raised me, Natasha."

Bucky reached his metal arm slowly towards your extended arms to inspect your wrists but he was pushed aside by Natasha, who blocked out the fact that you were hurting because of her and ignored the truth, her intrusive thoughts winning as she said something she would never be able to take back.

"You were never truly a part of this family, Y/N!" Natasha shouted "Get that in your head. You are not our blood and you will never be. I saved you because I thought that you would change but I see that you didn't. You are the same. But I did change. I am not the same Natasha that I was in the Red Room. I am better."

Shaking your head, you took a few steps backward.

"I can't believe you." You whispered in disbelief

"Y/N..." Bucky breathed out, sitting up from his chair "Don't listen to your mother, she's just tired. She didn't mean what she said."

"She knew damn well what she was saying." You kept shaking your head, a lone tear falling down your cheek

"Then get that in your head once and for all." Natasha shouted once more, stubbornly fixated on her wrong belief that she was right

"I hate you!" You shouted at Natasha "I wish you never rescued me from the Red Room!"

And with that, you stormed out of the house and ran into the veil of darkness provided by the night.

Bucky tried to run after you but it was too late.

He found no sight of you or any clue where you might have run away to.

—

Bucky walked inside the house and looked at Natasha who was still oblivious to the damage she had done and muttered one question.

"What have you done?!"

—

Permanent taglist: @lizlil , @lovelyy-moonlight , @theunchosenonee , @ravensinthedaylight , @justarandomreaderxoxo , @youralphawolf72 , @mmmmokdok , @natashasnoodle , @observeowl , @circe143 , @kassies-take , @taliiiaasteria , @sheneonromanoff , @darkstar225

#mama nat #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha's child #natasha's kid #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha x teen reader #natasha x baby!reader #winterwidow #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x daughter!reader

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bfstkb · 1 year

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Tendonitis - Treatment That Works

Tendonitis can be one of the most painful and persistent conditions to deal with. Tendons are the connective tissues between muscles and bones. When those tendons become inflamed, the resulting pain can disrupt activities we take for granted in daily life.

Tendonitis can be caused by repetitive motion, such as throwing, pitching, scrubbing, squeezing, or grasping motions. This condition can be acute (short-term) or chronic (long-term) in its severity and longevity. Tendonitis can effect almost any body part - wrist, shoulder, knee, foot, hip, you name it - and it is frustratingly slow to heal.

The good news is that you can heal from tendonitis. Your body is capable of recovering. Since tendonitis is caused by inflammation, cold therapy will be extremely effective at reducing pain and swelling, particularly following re-aggravation, or a flare up. Applying ice as often as you are comfortable with, for 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off, can do wonders for easing the pain.

The BFST is a medical device specifically designed to heal soft tissue injuries, such as tendonitis. It is an at-home treatment, and it produces electromagnetic energy in order to increase blood flow - this results in healing soft tissue injuries. It's designed to be used 3-4 times daily, treatments last 20 minutes each.

Living with pain can have an awful effect on all areas of your life. It doesn't just hurt, it can force you to miss out on events and time with friends and loved ones, it can hurt your job performance, it can make you feel hopeless. There is hope, and there is an effective, FDA approved, science based treatment. You deserve to live without pain.

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snixkers · 4 months

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Crushed Walnuts

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN!Reader

Angst

For: Anonymous Request

Content Warnings: Character death, gunshot wound, loss of blood, grief, funeral, NO HAPPY ENDING

Summary: You fade in and out while Spencer tries to keep you alive.

Author's Note: Tissues at the ready. I'm experimenting with writing style and trying to improve how I write grief so enjoy!!!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

You rolled onto your side, vaguely aware of your team's muffled yells around you. The shot rang in your ears, rattling around your brain and causing your vision to wobble.

As you started to regain consciousness, you saw Spencer crouch down beside you, pressing on your chest.

Spencer.

Your breath hitched when you saw him. He was always so nice to you, telling you random things he’d learned and filling up your coffee for you.

(He did that for everyone because that’s the kind of person he was, but you liked to imagine that he took as much pleasure in your morning routine as you did.)

The best part of work was walking into the bullpen and seeing his smile.

Where was his smile?

He was panicked now, and his hands were shaking as he pressed on the red-hot spot.

“Hey, stay with…”

★★★★★

“...me personally, I think Gattaca is one of the most accurate sci-fi movies.”

You tilted your head, giving up on your paperwork to listen to his voice.

“I’ve never seen it. I’m not much of a sci-fi person.”

His smile widened, and he quickly leaned forward.

“Oh, you’re missing out! Sci-fi is one of the most interesting genres of film and literature there is. Some advancements in technology were directly influenced by fiction.”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately, I’m more of a rom-com person.”

He took a sip of his vile coffee.

“Did you know the first romantic comedy was released in 1924?”

You shook your head again. He always knew things you never even considered.

“I prefer to watch things that have been released within the past few decades.”

He sighed again, wiping a smudge of coffee ground off the bottom of his mug.

“You’re missing…”

★★★★☆

“...out. They’re going in and out!”

You blinked again, groaning at the pinching pain in your ribs. You could see the panic in his eyes, tears forming as he called for backup. You went to sit up, but he pushed you back down.

“Stay where you are. You’re losing a lot of blood.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, something that usually happened when he was happy. But there was no joy in his expression as you both stared down at the bloody wound in your chest.

“When did I get hit?”

He frowned, elevating your head to keep you conscious.

“A few minutes ago. Don’t worry, an ambulance is on the…”

★★★☆☆

“...way back in 10,000 BC, the first ancestors of the modern walnut started growing.”

You paused, your hand halfway to your mouth.

“That long?”

He nodded, eager to share his never-ending flow of information.

“Mhm. They were brought over by Chinese merchants.”

You popped a few in your mouth, chewing slowly.

“Well, they’re really good. I could eat them for hours and never get…"

★★☆☆☆

“...tired.”

You heard your voice from far away, watching the panic in his eyes increase.

“No, I need you to stay awake. Don’t die on me, okay? I don’t want to lose you.”

His voice grew fainter, and you could hear your thready heartbeat in your ears.

“Stay with me. Do you…”

★☆☆☆☆

“...understand Korean? There's a film festival in town this weekend.”

You smiled gratefully, watching him stumble over his words.

“I wouldn’t get any of it.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t need to. I can translate everything for you in real-time.”

You blushed at the thought of him whispering in your ear, hoping he didn’t notice anything.

“Yeah, sure.”

The nerves quickly left his body and he sighed in relief.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

Realizing his words, he quickly headed toward the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. You hesitated before stepping after him.

“When you said date, you meant as friends, right?”

He turned around, flashing you a more subdued smile.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t know why I said that. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm...”

☆☆☆☆☆

“...thinking of you all the time. And I miss the way that you listened, and how you used to make me feel. And every time I do a crossword, I look for things you like. Liked. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you. Um, that’s all.”

He stepped down from the podium, making his way back to his seat in the front row. The shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, his hair was greasy and unwashed, and he hadn't eaten in days.

He knew if you saw him, you’d worry and tell him to take care of himself. But sitting in front of your fresh grave as another team member came to say some more remarks, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfic #reqs open #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #character death

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tachvintlogic · 1 year

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Hoof Trimmers IN SPACCCCCCEEEE!!!!

Based on the post about aliens probably having more than our mere 2 sets of limbs and the post about how our domesticated animals could be unusually large and dangerous compared to other planets.

longer AO3 version: link here (for people with AO3 accounts only)

Words: 1972

Summary: The newest human crewmate's background in farming ends up being able to help a coworker with a sore, injured foot more than anyone could've predicted.

Jósűrha took a step and bit back a hiss as zir middle left leg touched the ground. Ze flinched and lifted the leg back up while zir sore front and back legs took on the extra weight. The block on the middle leg had worn away, and zir leg hasn’t gotten any better since. Now ze needed someone to help zem put a new block on. Katársmun, who put it on last time, was busy at the moment, but ze knew exactly who ze could ask.

Humans were strange with their measly two legs, so unlike most species they were perfectly capable of doing their own first-aid without help, but they were more than happy to assist their fellow sapients who couldn’t reach their back half by themselves. The ship’s newest human crewmate would have a much easier time applying the block than zir other coworkers.

“Hey Officer Mackenzie! I need your help with something.”

The ship’s new resident human turned around as ze walked toward kem, and then frowned and bent to the side looking at zir feet. “Is there something wrong with your feet?”

“Yes, actually. The block on one of my claws has worn away, and obviously I can’t put another one on myself.”

Ke bent down further to get a better look at zir painful hoof. “Yeah, I can tell block on it is barely there. It explains why you’re walking like a lame cow. Have you gotten your feet trimmed recently?”

“Well, no. There aren’t many good places that can trim Zágjós feet. Wait, how did you know I needed a trim?”

“Your feet pretty closely resemble ungulates on Earth. You see my fingernails? On ungulates, their nails are giant pads made of keratin that they walk on like your hooves. Most of the other sapients I’ve seen don’t walk on the very tip of their limbs like ungulates or yourself.” That was true. Zágjós were one of the few species that needed to get their entire feet trimmed, which is why places to do that became scarcer and scarcer the further from Zágjós space you were.

“You seem to know a lot about feet.”

“Well, I used to work on a cow and sheep farm on Earth. A lot of our domesticated livestock are actually ungulates.” Having livestock species was quite common among spacefaring species. It was considered an important part of the path to FTL technology. While humans didn’t have the largest livestock species, they did have the largest livestock relative to their size.

“So do you think you can help me put a new cushion on?”

“Sure.”

They walked to zir quarters, where ze had a suspension bed (as zir species slept standing up), personal effects, and a basic first-aid kit specialized for zir species. Mackenzie opened the med kit and pulled out a block without ze having to tell kem what one looks like and a hoof trimming knife that came standard with the kit (not that ze knew how to use it).

“So does the block go on with glue or--?”

You remove the cap on the sticky side and then hold it on the claw for 30 seconds to set.”

“Alright, can you get in the suspension bed? It would be easier if you were standing without putting weight on your feet.”

“Sure.” Ze got in zir suspension bed and immediately felt relief with zir feet not entirely on the ground anymore. Mackenzie took some time to improvise a stand to hold up zir hoof and keep it still. It was a similar setup to the one at a trimmer (not that ze had been to one in a while).

“Wow, your hooves look…exactly like a cow’s hoof.”

“Should I be offended? Isn’t that livestock?”

“Oh, no. It’s just that I spent a lot of time trimming cow hooves back on the farm to keep them healthy. Hell, your hoof trimming knife looks about the same. It’s sharp on the sides with the hook on the end. I’m assuming I can remove the block with the knife, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Mackenzie started trimming away at the block, muttering this would be much easier if ke had a grinder. When the old block was gone, Mackenzie hummed and ze turned zir neck to see what ke was doing. Ke was pursing kes lips in a way that zir emotional recognition course in diversity training told zim meant the human did not like what ke was looking at.

“Something wrong?”

“What does the pain feel like?”

“Kinda like a pressure in my hoof.”

“Sounds like an abscess with some detached horn above it. One your bad claw, there’s some definitely detached horn at the heel of your outer claw and a white line defect near the toe, or at least it would be if the resemblance to a cow hoof isn’t just superficial. The wall horn is also thicker than it should be on a cow, which could be overgrowth or just what hooves of your species are supposed to look like. There’s also some slight bruising on the inner portion of the claw you had a block on, and it has small crack between the wall horn and the sole horn which could turn into a serious white line defect if it isn’t taken care of.”

Ke put the foot back down. “Hold on, I need to do some research on Zágjós feet.”

Mackenzie left and ze tried really hard to relax and ignore the pain in zir foot until Mackenzie came back with the captain. Mackenzie looked excited.

“So good news! Your feet are extremely similar to cow’s feet. The only main difference is that your foot is supposed to be held 5° steeper.”

“So?”

“So I can help your foot!” Mackenzie pulled zir middle left foot back on the stand and started slicing away at the bad claw with the trimming knife. It hurt, feeling the trimming knife put more pressure on the claw that felt like it was about to burst.

“Mackenzie requested that you have some time off because you’re having trouble walking,” said the captain.

“Yeah, there aren’t a lot of places to get my hooves trimmed at our ship’s recent stops.”

“Well, tell me next time our ship routes force you to go without care or routine maintenance. And that goes for all crew so this kind of thing never happens again.”

“Thanks captain, I—” Ze gasped as the pain in zir feet suddenly lifted. The pressure inside the hoof was gone! Ze turned zir neck around and saw Mackenzie wiping pus off kes face.

“What happened?” asked the captain.

“Well, I found the abscess. There was a lot of pus in there. Do you feel better?”

“Yes! That is so much better!”

“Let me see,” said the captain, walking behind Mackenzie. “Stars, that was under your foot!?”

“Yeah,” said Mackenzie, “it’s worse than it looks, too. You see this dark hoof horn above where I opened the abscess just on the border? It got darker as I thinned it out, so it’s not pigment. It means there’s a cavity under there, and all this horn is detached and needs to be removed,” ke explained as ke lifted the detached horn around the abscess and cut it off in circular cuts with the hook of the knife, revealing more pus and opening the hole.

After just a few cuts, ke revealed the abscess stretched the entire width of the sole horn, and then ke started shaving down the horn between the abscess and the heel to remove the bulk of it.

“Now that I’ve revealed the abscess,” ke continued to explain, “I know how much I can shave off. Fortunately, it seems to be only filled with pus. I haven’t found any lesions or ulcers. It’s just a giant cavity.”

“What could’ve caused it?”

“Probably an accident,” ke said, “could’ve bumped the hoof against something or turned too sharply on a corner. With regular trimming, it could’ve been nipped in the bud before it was a problem, but without it, it just got worse and worse.”

“And at the heel, there’s this detached horn I can just lift up, which tells me,” ke said as ke put the knife under the horn and cut down, “that it goes all the way to the abscess.”

“That’s the entire foot,” said the captain.

“Yep,” said Mackenzie, “can’t imagine trying to walk on that.”

“I don’t need to imagine,” said Jósűrha.

Mackenzie started trimming the good hoof, getting rid of the crack and modeling out the area with the bruised horn to take some of the weight off that area, and then searching through the med kit to find something to help grind the tips of the toes to bring both claws to the same length. The “grinder” at the bottom of the med kit wasn’t as good as the grinder ke used to use on cows on the farm, which ke was more than happy to complain about.

Once it was suitably prepared, ke put on a different, curved block that would avoid the bruised horn area on the good claw. Ke pressed it into the claw for 30 seconds to make sure the glue bond was secure.

“So given your foot’s condition. I’m going to have to cut most of your ship duties. Rest up and heal. Understood?”

“Yes captain.”

“And Mackenzie, you’re doing a great job, even though it’s not the job you were hired for.”

“Thanks, captain,” ke said, nodding.

“You know, speaking of routine care important for the health and comfort of our officers, Katársmun has a condition that prevents xe from shedding xis coat when xe should. You wouldn’t know how to do a full body shave, would you?

“Hmm, if it’s like shearing a sheep, then I could take to xem about it. I’d want to take a course on it and get more familiar Katársmun’s species first if xe doesn’t need shearing now.”

“Of course, it’s just something I wanted to mention. Well, as you were. I’ll call the cleaning bot to take care of the mess,” said the captain gesturing to the pus and cut horn on the floor.

As the captain left, ke stopped pressing into the block and tested its fit to make sure it was secure, then ke dressed the bad claw with supplies from the med kit. “Okay, I’m going to put your foot down. Try to stand on it in a way that feels natural.” Ke put zir foot down and checked the angle. It was steep enough for a cow but not enough for a Zágjós. Ke pulled the foot back on the stand and started cutting the block to adjust the angle.

When ke put the hoof down again, the angle was perfect, and Jósűrha didn’t feel any pain. It was almost unreal after feeling that pressure in zir hoof for so long. “Now for the other claws since you did say you haven’t gotten a trim in a while. I’m start with the back left.”

Jósűrha didn’t have a way to argue with that. “That’s fine,” ze said as Mackenzie moved to the back left foot and started trimming. “There’s a little bruising on the inner sole area that I can model out, and some overgrowth on the toes. Remember to tell me if there’s any soreness or pain.”

“Sure. That foot feels fine.”

“Good. It’s nice working on someone who can talk to me for a change.”

“People are better clients than cows are, aren’t they?”

“Well, yeah, and people are also polite enough to not start pooping while I’m doing their back legs.”

Ze suppressed a chitter and tried to keep zir foot very still as ke worked. Yes, asking the human crewmember was the best choice.

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are awesome #humans are space fae #tach's fics #speculative biology #it's pride so neopronouns for everyone

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