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delicatebarness · 7 months ago

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good graces: a cry baby story | chapter one

Summary: Delving into the shadowy world of a notorious biker gang, you begin navigating the tension between their duties and the gang's influence.

Warning: Corruption and Unethical Behavior. Criminal Activity and Violence. Suspense and Intimidation. Implied Threats. Emotional Tension.

Word Count: 1646

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A/N: It's weird not writing as Cry Baby. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

You sat at your new desk, in your new office– the laminate chipped and worn from the years of service. It mirrored the experiences of the precinct itself. Casting a harsh, cold glow, the fluorescent lights made everything seem more stark and unforgiving. You were currently in your first week taking over from Fury, a man whose retirement still left a sour taste in your mouth. He left a murky legacy behind, filled with unspoken truths and shadows that clung to the corners of the station like cobwebs.

The paper was rough under your fingertips as you sifted through a pile of old case files. The scent of ink and aged paper filled your nostrils. One file stood out among the usual fare of petty theft, domestic disputes, and minor assaults. The file was thick, bursting at the seams, as though it had been fed a diet of steady statements, reports, and evidence over the years. The label read: “The Avengers.”

Intrigued, you began to read the bulky file. The Avengers’ dossier is a detailed chronicle, each page a testament to their cunning audacity. Countless reports, dozens of names and dates, each one hinted at crimes far more severe than the paperwork let on. Yet, despite the mountain of documentation against each member, there hadn’t been a single arrest, and not one charge had ever stuck. And, the deeper you dived, the more glaring the gaps became.

It was clear now, that the corruption ran deep. You marveled at the arrogance of it all. The notes from your predecessor, Fury, peppered throughout the files, they were vague and non-committal. They often led investigations into dead ends– he was their shield, their unseen ally.

Pushing away from your desk, you made your way to the station’s bullpen. The usual chatter, ringing phones, and officers exchanging the latest gossip buzzed in the air. You caught the eye of your new partner, Officier Maria Hill, who raised her eyebrow at the file in your hand.

“Rogers?” she asked, her voice low, almost whispered as it carried a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steady. “Look at this, something's off.” Handing her the file, you watched her eyes widen with each passing page.

“I always knew Fury was dirty, but this…” Hill trailed off, shaking her head. “Rogers’ and his gang have a lot of power and friends in low places… I’d tread carefully if I were you.”

You nodded. “I’ll play this one smart. No tipping my hand until I have something solid.”

One evening, as you poured yourself into the files yet again, you noticed a pattern emerging. A name that keeps appearing, seemingly insignificant at first but, you grew more suspicious with each mention. It was the seemingly younger member of the gang. Unlike the others, her involvement was minimal, almost as if she had been deliberately kept in the background. Your mind formed a hunch, a gut feeling boiled– she might be the key to unraveling their web of deceit.

The next morning, you stake out the art gallery that she works at. The gallery seemed like a stark contrast to the gritty world of the Avengers. It was bright with an airy interior, filled with natural light that danced off the polished floors. Colorful paintings and sketches adorned the white walls. You blended in with a small crowd of art enthusiasts, watching the younger girl move gracefully through the space. She wore a quiet confidence as she interacted with the visitors.

She seemed genuinely passionate about her work as you noted her routine. Observing how she spoke to patrons and carefully arranged the pieces on displays. Her world seemed different from the criminal world her brother and friends inhabited.

Finally, as the gallery began to empty, you saw your chance. Approaching her, your heart pounded with the weight of the task ahead. “These pieces are incredible,” you say, stopping in front of one of her sketches. “Do you have any favorites?”

She smiled, her demeanor warm and welcoming. “Thank you. It’s hard to pick a favorite, but this one,” she gestured to a sketch of a man, he seemed familiar to you but you couldn’t quite place his face. “This one is definitely special to me.”

“It’s beautiful,” you replied, nodding appreciatively. “It seems like you put a lot of yourself into your work.”

Her eyes sparkled with genuine pride as she nodded. “Art is my escape. I express things I can’t always put into words.”

“It’s nice to have an escape,” you paused, taking a deep breath before deciding to ease into the topic. “I’ve heard your brother runs the tattoo studio downtown too, it seems like the art runs in your family.”

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, yet she recovered quickly. Her eyes never lost their warmth. “Yeah, Steve is quite the artist himself. He’s very talented.”

“It’s impressive,” you continued, trying to keep your tone casual. “I’ve um, I’ve seen some of his designs… and he’s got quite the reputation.”

Glancing around the gallery, she chuckled softly. “Steve’s work is… intense. He puts as much passion into his tattoos as I do into my sketches, if not more.”

You nodded, feeling the sense of opportunity to learn more. “It must be challenging, balancing such different worlds. Your art here and his studio, not to mention his, um, other activities.”

Her expression tightened slightly, but she maintained her composite. “Our paths are very different, but we have always been close. He does what he thinks is right, and I focus on my art. We support each other.”

The answer was careful and measured. So, you tried another angle. “It must be difficult though, with everything that’s been going on lately. The Avengers have been getting a lot of attention.”

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at you sharply before she forced a smile. “I try not to get involved in that side of things. I keep my head down and focus on my work and my relationship.”

You felt the resistance and did not want to push too hard. Nodding, you sent her a genuine smile. “That’s probably for the best. You have a lot of talent and a bright future ahead. Your brother must be very proud.”

For a moment, the tension eased and a genuine smile touched her lips. “He is. Ever since we were children, he has told me to follow my dreams, no matter what.”

Sensing the conversation had reached its limit, you couldn’t help but ask one more question. “Out of curiosity, do you get visitors from his world here? People who come to see your work?”

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Unless you count my boyfriend, the gallery isn’t exactly their scene. They know about my art, and usually come to my opening nights but other than that, they keep their distance.”

Appreciating her openness, you smiled, even if she was guarded. “Well, I’m glad I stopped by. Your art is truly… something special.”

“Thank you,” she replied, another genuine smile gracing her face. “I appreciate you taking the time to look.”

As you left the gallery, you replayed the conversation in your mind. The younger Rogers had been careful, but her responses confirm what you already suspected. She knew more than she let on and was deeply intertwined with her brother’s world. She might have been different from the rest of the Avengers, with her sweet demeanor and unproblematic passion, but she was still a part of their story.

After a few days stuck in your office after visiting the art gallery, you decided to try a more direct approach. The next destination you wanted to try was the bar where the Avengers were regulars.

After entering the bar, you ordered a drink and took a seat, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Long shadows were cast in the dim light, making it easier to observe without drawing attention. Sitting in a corner booth, the Avengers gathered. Steve Rogers’ presence was commanding, and he seemed to exude an air of calculated vigilance.

Sipping your drink, you engaged in idle conversation with the bartender, casually observing Steve and the gang. Then, despite your attempts to stay low-key, you could feel Steve’s eyes on you, sharp and calculating. A steady gaze, as if he was trying to read you and figure out what you’re up to.

As the evening progressed, two more gang members joined the booth, and you recognized one of them as his sister, from the art gallery. It became clear that Steve’s attention on you had caused tension within the group, as they all began watching you. You decided it was time to leave before things escalated. After finishing your drink, you nod a polite goodbye to the bartender and make your way out of the bar.

As you walk back to your car, the cool night air hits you and the city’s distant noises create a backdrop of uneasy tranquility. Mentally, you review the encounter, noting Steve’s wariness and the tension from their booth. You headed back to your office, with a feeling of relief and anticipation.

You looked forward to officially reviewing the evening’s findings and plotting your next steps when you reached the station. But yet, as you unlocked the door to your office, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Casually sitting at your desk, leaning back in the chair was Steve Rogers– dressed in his signature leather jacket, looking every bit the part of the imposing figure you had been watching. His eyes locked onto yours as you entered, and a smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

“So,” he began, calm and steady, but it carried an unmistakable edge, “you’re Fury’s replacement?” The question was straightforward, but he made it clear he’d already made up his mind about you.

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elixirfromthestars · 2 years ago

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Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case.

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I

You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back.

Eventually, you would have to face him.

Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.

You didn’t dare do either.

Instead, you typed something short and to the point. A quick, “I did. Goodnight, Bucky.”

You haven’t had a good night’s sleep since.

“Y/n, where are you? I was supposed to be having lunch with Steve today,” Natasha’s voice was suddenly coming from your living room. “You didn’t answer my calls again. What is going on?” You rose from your bed and walked in the direction of her voice, slightly thinking you were sleep-deprived to the point of hearing things. You were wrong when you were met with her questioning eyes.

“Well, you look terrible.”

If this were anyone else, and not your best friend of over a decade, you would have felt embarrassed at the state of not only yourself but your apartment as well. There were used dishes littering your coffee table and clothing items spread across the floor. As for your state, it was Wednesday and the last time you showered was before the date with Bucky. Since then, you had been wearing a blue set of satin pajamas that now held strains of evidence of all the takeout you had been eating since. You didn’t need a mirror to see the tragic state of your hair.

“I told you, I’m sick. You shouldn’t have come. I’m going to get you sick too,” you tried to sound as convincing as possible, throwing in a couple of fake coughs and straining your voice to make it sound hoarse. You cursed yourself from the past in your head for giving Natasha a key to your apartment.

“You almost had me there, Y/n. Unfortunately, for you, the squad showed up at our office to brief us on a new case, and guess who was staring at your empty desk the entire time like a wounded puppy?” You couldn't meet her eyes when she spoke and instead plopped yourself down on your couch. Natasha stood on the other side of it, staring at you with her arms crossed.

“I think I messed up, Nat.”

“You think? He practically ran out of the room once the debriefing was over. What the hell happened on Saturday?” She made her way over to you, sitting on the couch across from you. She was waiting for an answer, but it felt as though your throat was closing up.

It’s not that you didn’t want to tell her. It’s more like you physically couldn’t. As if some invisible force was preventing you from speaking aloud the thoughts that had been driving you crazy these past few days. They would surely cement themselves into reality if someone, but yourself, heard them.

Thankfully, this was Natasha sitting across from you. She knows you better than anyone else and knows exactly how to handle you in situations like this. You of course know her just as well, so you were not surprised when she called off of work and grabbed a bottle of wine with a pair of glasses, from your cupboard, for the two of you.

“There’s no way I’m leaving before getting to the bottom of this.”

After a few sips, the words started to pour out of you faster than Natasha could pour more wine into your glass. Any hindrance or hesitation—gone like that—with a bit of liquid courage in your system. Natasha didn’t say a word nor did she interrupt you at any point. She let you speak until you had spilled everything. You even handed her your phone so she could read the messages Bucky had sent—the ones you didn’t have the courage to read yourself. She scrolled through them, taking a sip of her wine here and there. She was uncharacteristically quiet, and you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. Whenever you gossiped over your usual bad dates she would be filling the silence with laughter and snarky comments. However, this was not just another date. This was a date with Bucky. This means that, as you feared, everything was different.

“Y/n, I say this with all the love and respect I have for you, but what the fuck did you do?” She raised her voice slightly, confusion etched into her face. You chugged the rest of the wine in your glass to prepare yourself for the conversion you were about to have.

“Look, I know what it looks like, but I have a good reason.”

“What it looks like to me is that for months you’ve been complaining about bad dates and sucky men, only to finally go on a good date with a man you clearly have feelings for, and you go and mess it up?”

“Bucky is not just any guy, Nat. It’s Bucky as in our friend Bucky, who happens to also be our coworker. If we end up being something more to each other and then we break up, it’ll mess up the friendship all of us have. I can’t risk that. I can’t ask you, Sam, or Steve to pick sides when something like that happens. It’s better off this way,” you argued, gripping the wine glass a little too tightly, trying to regain control of your emotions. You didn’t have the energy to cry in front of Natasha while trying to plead your case.

Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in.

“Even if that’s true, it can’t happen. Too much would change and it would complicate things.”

“Things always change and you’re the one making things complicated. Y/n, please look at me,” you turned to her, meeting her gaze, “ I don’t care what Prosecutor L/n wants or thinks is right. The only thing that matters is what Y/n wants. This job can’t become our entire life, we are allowed to live outside of it. Let yourself fall in love and be happy.” Her words tugged at your chest as you took her advice into consideration. Nevertheless, your fear of what could happen could not be swayed.

“It’s not easy to separate that part of my life. Being a prosecutor is a part of me—a huge part of me. I can’t just set that aside. Nat, I know you mean well, but I think things are better the way they are now. I’ll go back to work tomorrow. I promise things will continue as they always have,” you put your wine glass down on the coffee table, an ill feeling bubbling within your stomach. Natasha let out a defeated sigh, “If that’s what you really want, then I’ll respect that. But I have to tell you that whatever it is you're really scared of, it’s making you let go of possibly one of the best things that could have ever happened to you.” This time her words made your heart sink in disappointment knowing what you were giving up.

She didn’t stay long after that. You chatted about work, the new case, and other frivolous things. Your mind, however, was elsewhere the entire time. Like a broken record, it repeated her words and Bucky’s over and over, almost as if to torture you. When she left, you ended up cleaning your entire apartment to distract yourself from your thoughts. It had never been so spotless.

The next day, you went to work to prove to Natasha, and to yourself, that everything was okay. Nothing had to change and everyone could operate as usual. What you didn’t expect was to be called into the Brooklyn precinct on your first day back. You managed to skim through a few files on your way there to get caught up on the case. Which thankfully, hadn’t really started until today.

You took a deep breath stepping out of the precinct elevator. Walking down the hallway, you were mere moments away from seeing Bucky again and your nerves were uncontrollable. You told yourself it was best to act professionally towards him, but you knew that was easier said than done.

As soon as you walked through the precinct entrance, your eyes scanned the entire room. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed Bucky in the conference area, looking over evidence with Detective Maria Hill and Detective Sharon Carter. His back was facing you, so he hadn’t noticed you yet. On the other side of the room, Steve was with Sam, having a conversation with what looked like to be the suspect’s attorney. Now you understood why you were called in.

“Counselor Murdock, back to lose another case?” You asked teasingly. He smiled, a slight chuckle escaping him, “Not this time. Although, if this goes to court I’m happy it's you prosecuting this case. You’re the only prosecutor whose voice I like hearing throughout the trial. If anything I’m looking forward to it.” Murdock gave you a cheeky grin, being flirtatious as always. You laughed it off, used to him being this way since your law school days.

“I think it’s time we move things along. Have you spoken to your client yet?”

“Not yet. I arrived a few moments before you did.”

“Well then, you should go inside and speak to him. The detectives will join you momentarily. I hope we can have full cooperation.”

“No promises,” he shrugged, a smug look on his face. Once he entered the interrogation room you turned to Steve and Sam, “ You shouldn’t leave them in there too long before they decide not to cooperate. What do we have on the suspect?”

"Not much. The suspect, Quentin Beck, was the victim's boyfriend and the last person to see her alive. Her body was found under a bridge not too far from their shared apartment. Initially, she was a Jane Doe found with no possessions on her until we ran her fingerprints and found she was arrested prior for a misdemeanor. He says she went out with her friends and never came home. He filed a police report a week ago,” Sam explained.

“Sounds like there’s not much to go on. Getting a warrant for the apartment wouldn’t be hard, but the evidence would be too circumstantial. She lives there so, of course, her DNA would be everywhere,” your brain went into prosecutor mode, sifting through mental files of any possible charges.

“Could you get us a warrant for his car? If he transported the body there has to be some evidence left inside. This guy thinks he’s clever. Never seen someone so calm and indifferent to the death of their loved one. I got a feeling he killed her,” Sam continued.

You shook your head, “Unfortunately, I need something more than just feelings to convict. I don’t think we have enough evidence to get a judge to sign off on a warrant. You’d have to get him to talk more and spill something. If she went out with her friends then maybe they know something. You can question their neighbors or tenant to see if there were any prior domestic disturbances, but for now, that’s all. We need more to go on than pure speculation.”

“Carter, Barnes, Hill!” Steve called the rest of the squad over and you tensed up knowing he was approaching. It was easy to stay focused on the job when he wasn’t close. You couldn’t look at him and instead directed your attention to the suspect inside the interrogation room. He looked like the average white male, sort of handsome if you squinted hard enough. However, if this job had taught you anything, looks can be deceiving.

“Hill, I want you in the interrogation room with me. You’re best with the clever ones. Wilson, Carter, go back to the apartment complex and question the tenant, the neighbors they have nearby, and even the one directly underneath their apartment. Maybe they can tell us if they were as happy as a couple as he said they were. Barnes, I need you to investigate her social media and see if any of her friends posted this alleged outing. Find a way to contact them and ask them what they know. Counselor, I would like it if you stayed to watch over the interrogation. You know how to handle Murdock better than any of us,” Steve turned to you once he was done giving his orders. You faced him, getting a glimpse of Bucky from the corner of your eye. You felt his stare on you the entire time Steve was talking.

“Of course,” your response was brief, and the tone of your voice was weak. Bucky’s intense stare was clouding your senses. The room suddenly felt smaller, and you wanted to ask Steve who had cranked up the heat.

Steve shot Bucky a quick glance before directing his attention back to you. By the look on his face, you knew he was putting two and two together. All of your friends here were detectives. You wouldn’t put it past them to figure it out.

Your clothes suddenly felt two sizes too small.

“Okay, everyone knows what they have to do. We’ll regroup around noon. If you end up with any new leads you want to pursue, call in and let me know first,” Steve gave the last of his instructions, sending everyone off. It took him a second, but Bucky walked away to his desk, which was thankfully the furthest from you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Nothings changed. You repeated these words over and over in your head, to remind yourself—no, to convince yourself they were true. Which was hard when Bucky was staring holes into the back of your head. You could see him vaguely behind you through the reflective surface of the two-way mirror. It took everything within you not to turn around and lock eyes with him.

After watching the interrogation for about forty minutes, you ended up with the same conclusion as Sam. Quentin Beck was guilty—he had to be. There was no proof yet, only the gut feeling you and Sam had felt, however, you knew deep down he had killed his girlfriend. As you listened to him speak you realized he was the kind of man who with one look made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. His eyes were the muddiest shade of blue, lifeless and cold. You didn't believe for a second he was ever in love with the victim. There was a moment you could have sworn he look through the two-way mirror right at you. You hated how intimidated you felt at that moment.

If it was the last thing you did, you would make sure this man would rot behind bars for the rest of his life.

Nothing new was learned from the interrogation. Steve and Maria came out of there, letting the hard look on their faces fall into defeat. Anytime they almost caught Quentin slipping up, Murdock was there to save him.

“Counselor, I think it's time you take a turn. Murdock is giving us a run for our money,” Maria suggested, glaring at the two men inside the room.

“She won’t have to. Look,” Bucky rushed over to where the three of you were, tablet in hand, to show you all something, “See these videos? The victim's friends sent me these from the night they all went out. The suspect dropped her off and picked her up from the outing. He’s lying about her never going home. And see this?”

Bucky’s hand slid back and forth on the screen showing two screenshots of two different cars with two different license plates. You were too engrossed with the wickedness of the details you hadn’t noticed Bucky was standing next to you until his arm brushed up against yours.

“They’re two different cars, that bastard. He picked her up in a different car than the one he dropped her off in. What car did he drive here?” Maria’s teeth were gritted. “I checked the cameras and there’s a match for the first car he drove parked next to Carter’s,” Bucky showed another screenshot of the same car as the first, parked in the precinct parking lot.

“Counselor, is this enough to get us a warrant?” Steve asked you.

You considered the evidence before speaking, “This is more than enough to get a warrant on both cars. Although, it’s better if you send all of this to Romanoff. She’s closer to the judge’s chambers and can get you a warrant faster than I can. If you stall him long enough, you’ll have the warrant and the crime scene unit here to investigate the car before your time to question him is up. We don’t want him erasing any evidence,” you suggested.

Steve agreed, “Barnes, call Prosecutor Romanoff and give her all the information you have to get that warrant. Hill, go back in there and give him another round of questioning, maybe some paperwork to file. I have to make a few calls before I go back in. Counselor, I think we’ll be okay for now, but I’d appreciate it if you could deliver the warrant to Murdock himself. Something tells me if you give it to him, he’ll go easier on countering it.”

You nodded your head in agreement, feeling Bucky step away from you and shooting you one last glance before going back to his desk and doing as ordered. Maria went ahead and reluctantly made her way back into the interrogation room. Steve was standing there quietly, a pensive look on his face. There was clearly something on his mind, and you dreaded knowing exactly what it was.

“You and Bucky, is everything okay between you two?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Things don’t seem fine.”

“They are. It’s all fine. Everything’s fine.”

The look Steve gave you let you know he wasn’t believing a word you said. However, he didn’t push it, merely sending you a sympathetic smile with kind eyes that made you want to confess everything. Steve wasn’t Natasha though. Steve was Bucky’s best friend and you didn’t deserve to be consoled by him—only hated. You broke his best friend’s heart and if he didn’t know, he would know soon enough.

Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe things always change anyways.

But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.

You had to be okay with that.

“Anyway, you have Captain duties to get to, and I have a lot of work to catch up on after the whole fair—flu thing,” you cleared your throat, stopping yourself from saying anything else. If Steve had noticed your slip-up, he didn’t acknowledge it. You let him know you would be back to hand the physical warrant to Murdock. You then excused yourself to make a quick getaway out of the precinct.

You speed walked out into the hallway that led to the elevator. You knew it was a comical sight how fast you were booking it out of there, but you didn’t care. You begged Natasha in your head to keep Bucky on the phone just long enough for you to slip out.

Unfortunately, for you, the phone call was already over.

You heard his footsteps before his voice, “Y/n, we need to talk.”

“Sorry, Bucky, I can’t right now. I’m behind on paperwork and I need to get to the office as soon as possible,” you dismissed him, thankful the elevator doors were already open. A few officers were getting off, giving you the chance to quickly slip in without waiting.

Bucky, however, was also quick and moved his hand in between the elevator doors so it wouldn't close, “You can’t even give me a minute? I don’t even deserve that?” The pain and disbelief in his voice were unbearable to hear. You stared at his feet, not being able to meet the eyes you knew would match the emotions in his voice.

“Bucky, I really can’t talk right now.”

“You can, you just don’t want to talk to me. You can’t even look at me.”

The tone in his voice froze you in your spot. It was foreign and angry. Bucky had never directed that kind of tone your way. A tone you could only associate with hatred. Something you had previously established was okay. If all your friends could hate you for hurting Bucky, then Bucky had every right to hate you for hurting him. He deserved so much more than you. He deserved to be with someone who wasn’t so conflicted about being with him. Maybe if he hated you too, everything would be much easier to get through.

Before you could respond or Bucky could say anything else, another group of officers stepped into the elevator, causing Bucky to remove his hand. The officers sent you quizzical looks as one of them pressed the ground-level button setting the elevator in motion. You were shakily gripping your briefcase, watching Bucky’s feet disappear as the elevator doors closed.

It’s okay Bucky, you can hate me. You thought to yourself, as though somehow being able to transmit this to him.

The next few weeks were agonizing. You and Bucky avoided each other at all costs throughout the entire case. If he came by the office he was never alone and all his questions were addressed to Natasha. He wouldn’t so much as glance your way and you understood why he was so hurt when you wouldn’t even look at him in the elevator. To have somebody who meant the world to you, who made you feel seen, act like you no longer existed was as if you were dead to them.

Maybe you were to him now.

The last time he ever spoke to you was after Quentin was arraigned and his bail was posted. Natasha made you go to the precinct to collect copies of witness statements. You were annoyed, knowing Steve or any other detective could have sent those copies digitally or even faxed them. It wasn’t until you arrived at the precinct and saw only Bucky was around that you realized this was a setup.

“Hey...I came to get the copies of witness statements Nat called in earlier saying we needed,” your voice was stiff as you stood awkwardly by Bucky’s desk. He had been typing away at his computer before you approached him, and wasn’t showing any signs of stopping at your arrival.

He clenched his jaw, nodding slowly, getting up from his desk and going into Steve’s office. You took a step forward only to stop yourself, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to follow him in. He clearly wasn’t in a good mood at the sight of your presence.

He came out of the office moments later with a stack of manila folders in his hands. He handed them to you, “Here, this should be everything you need.” His tone was distant and professional. You grabbed them, the apprehensive tension between you two threatening to suffocate you. You managed to mutter out a small thank you before leaving.

Neither of you looked at the other during that last interaction.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha tried talking to you about the situation—well more like Steve and Sam tried talking to you, and Natasha lectured you—but, you never gave them any real answers or explanations. You knew where they were coming from, but any brainpower you had left was dedicated to the case. You poured every waking hour into it to distract yourself from everything else. This worked incredibly, although it also brought on a foreboding feeling for when the case was over. Once you reached the finish line, it would be hard to ignore the obstacles on the other side of it.

This was the complete opposite of making things easier for you. In his absence, you realized how much you truly missed him and how comfortable you had gotten with his usual presence. This was the first case where you didn’t have late nights working on paperwork, and days going out to the field together to investigate. Natasha and you typically did your work separately which made it easy for Bucky, in previous cases, to come in and partner up with you at any opportunity.

You especially felt his absence when it came to rehearsing your opening remarks for Quentin Beck’s trial. You always did this with Bucky, but now he wasn’t here to give you pointers and reassuring words. He wasn’t here to comfort you and let you know you were going to do great. There was a moment when you were a click away from calling him the night before the trial but decided against it knowing how unfair that was to him.

No, instead, you had your bedroom wall staring back at you as you practiced your opening speech.

This was the loneliest you had ever felt.

On the day of the trial, you went over your notes with Natasha before it commenced. You dotted all your i’s and crossed all your t’s. You couldn’t afford to let Quentin Beck slip through the laws of justice over a technicality. He had murdered his girlfriend out of spite and jealousy, and thanks to the best detective team in Brooklyn, you had all the evidence to prove it.

Your opening went smoothly. The jury was immediately entranced by your persuasiveness—you even saw a few of them cry. This was good. As long as you continued to show them the monster Quentin Beck was, the easier and faster they would convict him.

Like any other trial, you and Natasha spilt the witnesses in half. Natasha was better at intimidating anyone on the stand, while your strong suit lay in appealing to the jury. Any emotionally packed moment was one you delivered. Any moment someone needed to be put in their place, there Natasha was. That is how the rest of the trial went.

When Quentin Beck was put on the stand, the tension in the room became palpable. Already the jury hated him, and his nonchalant demeanor did nothing to help. His eyes would glance over the room and every time his eyes met yours, you had to do everything in your power not to visibly shiver. After the brutality of the evidence of the victim’s murder was discovered his eyes became to you nothing short of haunting. In them lay a storm that was waiting to ensnare you and drown you. You couldn’t shake the discomfort they brought you when it was time to give the closing arguments.

You were good at thinking on your feet, so closing remarks always came effortlessly to you. It’s the same as always working on homicide cases. Humanize the victim as much as possible to the jury. Remind them the victim was a daughter, a cousin, a friend, and to many others so much more than that. Remind them the defendant was a cold-blooded killer. The one to act as the judge, jury, and executioner to the victim. Matt was trying to get a third-degree murder charge, while you and Natasha were gunning for first-degree.

The entire trial is important to the jury. They have countless notes to look back on and read over to refresh their memories. However, it's the closing statements that always stick with them the most since it'll be the last they hear from either side. You were great at closing the case, but you had to admit, Matt was damn good at it as well.

You made a dire mistake upon giving the final speech. In a moment of accusation, you pointed to the defendant, and let those same lifeless eyes intimidate you for a split second. It was quick, and yet that was all it took to feel like you were drowning again. To play this fear off you took an emotional pause to gain your grounding. To anyone who didn’t know you, this was a moment of silence for them to reflect on the tragedy of this crime. Anyone who knew you though knew this was a moment for you to catch your breath.

Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park.

The jury didn't take long to deliberate. The guilty verdict came back in record time.

“Always a pleasure losing to you, Counselor L/n,” you heard Matt say behind you as he approached you after the trial. Natasha was a few feet away talking to Steve and the rest of the detectives. No doubt planning the usual celebration after a successful case.

“You know, when you say it like that you make it sound like you lose on purpose,” you countered teasingly, packing up your stuff. Your goal was to sneak out of the courthouse as quickly and as quietly as possible.

He chuckled, “Never. Ever since law school you and I have gone back and forth with wins and losses. Maybe more losses on my part than wins.” This brought an amused grin to your face, “So you admit I’ve always been a better lawyer than you?” This made you both laugh. After the last few weeks of feeling as though the world was crumbling down on you, it felt nice to bicker playfully with an old friend. It certainly made the air easier to breathe.

“Walk me out?” You asked him. In response, he extended his arm out for you to grab onto to ‘guide him gracefully out of the building,’ as he put it. You rolled your eyes knowing very well he could navigate the courthouse halls better than you. Nevertheless, you linked your arm with his and walked out amongst the crowd of those who had attended the trial. As you were leaving you could've sworn a pair of eyes were on you. However, not wanting to confirm who those eyes belonged to, you ignored them and walked out of the courthouse with Matt. You continued to talk about the past and reminisce the days filled with bar exam study sessions and research essays on the fundamental principles of the jury selection process.

Outside, Matt helped you into a taxi, saying goodbye before parting ways. You were heading home wanting nothing more than to give yourself a long bath and maybe a nice nap. Anything to wind down from the stressful trial. Your usual method of stress relief after a trial was a fun night out with your friends, but of course this time it would be different.

You were getting fed up with different.

Your mind wandered back to Bucky’s encouragement during your closing. Even after everything Bucky was still caring and looking out for you. Guilt and shame were once more having a fight within you to see who could feast off of you more. Before you could lose yourself to these emotions, a call interrupted them.

“You’re not coming are you.”

“I will. I’ll take a taxi later.”

“You can lie to everyone, Y/n. Even to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”

She was right as usual.

“I can’t go, Nat. I have tons of stuff to do. I have to prepare some final motions and other paperwork.”

You wished the ground would swallow you at this very moment.

“You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?”

Again, she was right as usual, hanging up on you as you arrived outside your home feeling your world start to crumble again. Any sense of normalcy Matt had given you gone with one phone call.

The rest of your afternoon into the evening was spent giving yourself lots of self-care which consisted of a warm bath and shopping online for things you absolutely did not need. Anything to help you feel better. You tried convincing yourself it was okay for things to be different now. It was hard to pretend you didn’t care when in reality you cared way too much.

As midnight approached, you poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate your trial win. “Congratulations on another win, Prosecutor L/n,” you mustered as much fake enthusiasm as you could, and attempted to take a celebratory sip of wine, but found yourself fighting off tears instead.

Correction, this was the loneliest you had ever felt.

Your pity party was cut short by a knock on your door. You looked over at the time, fifteen minutes till midnight, and wondered who it could be. You knew at least it wasn’t Natasha since she would've just let herself in with her spare key.

You tiptoed over to your door and checked the peephole almost knocking your head against it in shock. Bucky was on the other side holding something in his hands. Your hand shot out to the doorknob, rattling it for a second, but you couldn't find the strength to open it. As a prosecutor, confrontation naturally comes to you. You found yourself surprised to know this wasn’t the case with Bucky. To face him and your actions these past few weeks was more anxiety-inducing than when you took the bar exam many years ago. Which was saying something since you threw up twice the morning of your bar exam.

At this point, you didn’t open the door not because you didn't want to, but because you physically couldn't. Your sweaty palms had a hard time twisting the lock off the door.

“Y/n, you don't have to open the door, but please just listen.”

His voice was hesitant and slightly muffled on the other side. He seemed to be walking on eggshells around you and wanted to choose his words carefully. You didn’t blame him as you avoided him as much as he had avoided you. You more so than him if you were honest.

“Okay,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. There was so much more you wanted to say, but once again in the presence of Bucky, you were rendered speechless.

There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke, “Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing, “I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.”

Your hand on the doorknob tightened as you blinked a few years away. You wanted to tell him that despite how it all ended that day was from a handful of days where you experienced the beauty of romance. To recognize it as such made your chest ache with longing, but it was the truth. It was cliche and yet, it was the first time you understood what it meant to feel sparks when kissing someone. It was a foreign sensation you wished the universe would give you the chance to feel again.

This and so much more were the things you wanted to say to the wonderful man on the other side. You were hesitant, however, to speak, afraid even one syllable would sound incomprehensible with the emotions you were trying to keep in control. Instead, you rested your head on the door and tried to calm down your racing heart. Maybe if you managed to do that you could say something—anything, to ease the pain for both of you.

There was rustling on the other side of the door and you wondered what he was doing. “Today, when I saw how you were able to smile and laugh around Murdock, it reminded me of how we used to be. And I realize we might not have that again, but I’ll try to get back to a place like that. All I ask is for you to be patient with me because what I feel for you isn’t something that leaves from one day to the next, but to respect your wishes I’ll try. It’ll kill me, but I’ll try.”

Bucky’s words ripped your heart right out of your chest. If he said anything after that you wouldn’t know, your mind was no longer in the moment. It was racing a mile a minute grappling with what you wanted and what you thought you wanted. You tried convincing yourself for weeks that all you wanted was to go back to normal with Bucky. To have his friendship in your life because that would be enough. It wasn’t until he said he’d try his best to get rid of his feelings for you that you realized being just friends was never going to be enough—not anymore.

You stepped away from your door when the realization hit. What you felt towards him now was entirely different than the small crush you had on him when you first met. In all this time of getting to know him, he had wedged his way into your heart and found a permanent spot there. There was only one word that could summarize why in his absence it felt like a part of you was missing—it was love.

You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes.

You got a taste of what it was like to be lovers with him and you knew no matter what you tried to do, nobody else could satiate what Bucky had awakened. A part of you was still scared of what could happen if things went south, but the fear of closing that door of being something more with Bucky was greater than the consequences that could happen in the case of a conflict of interest. You felt immensely stupid for not realizing this sooner.

Before your mind drove you any crazier, your body took charge and swung your door open. Bucky was used to your incoherences, so at least he would be able to string together some parts of what was about to spill from your mouth.

This was cut short as you were met with no one on the other side of the doorway. Bucky was gone. He must have said goodbye and you didn’t hear it over the back and forth in your head.

You took a deep breath surprisingly relieved. As much as you would love to chase after him in your pajamas at midnight in the Brooklyn streets, you didn’t want to seem like a mad woman. Instead, you used this as an opportunity to collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for pouring out your heart to Bucky tomorrow. He had done the same, and you rejected him. There was a possibility you had to prepare yourself for him to do the same. You felt as though he had every right to after how you treated him.

Before you closed the door, you noticed there were two things on the ground Bucky must have left for you. One, a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant which made you realize you completely forgot about dinner, and two, the teddy bear from the night of the fair. Your heart burst at the sight. You bent down and grabbed the teddy bear delicately as if it were a small child and hugged it.

It smelled like funnel cake and a happier time.

You brought in the takeout, never letting go of the bear. You couldn’t tell if the empty feeling in your stomach was from your lack of eating dinner, or from the guilt that was still making its home there over your treatment of Bucky. He deserved so much better and maybe he had realized that.

Maybe that’s why he said he’d get rid of his feelings for you.

You shook the doubt away, exhaustion taking over your body. You put the takeout in the fridge, not having the appetite for anything right now. You decided you would wake up early in the morning and make Bucky some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. He loves when you bake a batch and bring them down to the precinct. He always said they were his favorite—now if that was because you made them or they actually were his favorite, there was no way to know.

The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court.

You fell asleep that night with the teddy bear in your arms.

Your idea to wake up early in the morning to bake cookies was a good one—if you hadn't overslept. In the midst of Bucky’s surprise visit, and writing him an apology, you forgot to charge your phone and set your alarm. So instead of waking up at six as you intended, you woke up at ten. Thankfully, since you just ended a big case there was no urgency to be at the office bright and early in the morning. Even though a bit rushed, you still baked the cookies and got ready as usual. Although, this morning you noticed you felt a bit more self-conscious about your appearance.

What does one wear to confess your feelings to someone you already rejected?

Is there an outfit that conveys I’m sorry, better than you ever could?

You wouldn't know.

You were able to charge your phone halfway before heading out. You packed the cookies in a red tupperware container sticking a post-it note at the top that read: For Bucky <3. You gave the teddy bear a goodbye wave as you exited.

You decided against taking the subway today and got a lift from a taxi instead. You sent Bucky a quick text to let him know you needed to talk to him and if you could meet up with him at the park closest to the precinct. You knew his lunch break was coming up, so you hoped you could talk to him then.

As soon as you sent the text your phone rang, your heart skipping a beat. There’s no way Bucky read that message that quickly.

You were right. It wasn’t Bucky calling you, it was Natasha.

“Hey, Nat. Sorry, I overslept, but I’m close to the offic—”

"Y/n, where are you?” There was a hint of panic in her voice.

“Heading to the office...” you trailed off an uneasiness crawling its way up your spine.

“Tell the driver to go to Stark Hospital. There’s been an accident.”

You froze, “Natasha, are you okay? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“It’s not me, it’s Bucky. He was in a car accident.”

The cookie container fell from your lap. You don’t know how you managed to find your voice to tell the driver to take you to Stark Hospital, but you did. A few blocks away there was a traffic jam, and the desperation to see Bucky and make sure he was okay was more than you or the driver could bear. You paid the driver and rushed out of the taxi, maneuvering your way through the rest of the cars until you reached the sidewalk. You continued to run from there.

Three blocks away.

Bucky was fine. He had to be fine.

Two blocks away.

Please, Bucky, for the love of everything, please be fine.

One block away.

Bucky, I can’t live without you, so please be fine.

Out of breath and barely able to see from the tears obstructing your vision, you made your way into the emergency room. You looked around the waiting room but saw no familiar faces. A nurse noticed you and came over.

“Ma’am, who are you looking for?”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“He’s in the back in room seven, I have to first—wait, you can’t just go in.”

The nurse tried to stop you, but you must have looked at her like the world was ending because her features softened, “Ma’am, I have to get you an approved visitor's pass. We can’t just have anyone back there.”

“Screw the visitor’s pass, that's my fiancé you have back there. I have to see him,” you lied hiding your left hand in your bag in the process, moving past the nurse. You knew she was just doing her job, but the hopelessness you felt at that moment made you desperate.

Despite the nurse's protests, you marched your way into the back of the emergency room where all the patients were. You located room number seven and bolted straight to it, pushing the door open. Bucky was sitting on top of a hospital bed, his left arm in a sling, and his face scattered with a few cuts. He jerked back startled by your entrance. Relief overtook your features, finding yourself able to breathe again.

“I am so sorry for the intrusion sir, but your fiancé was worried and insisted on seeing you.”

You froze in your spot, sheepishly, at the nurse’s words. Right, you told the nurse you were Bucky’s fiancé. Bucky bit his lip amused, “She was, was she? Of course, my doll was,” he extended his right hand toward you inviting you into his arms. You walked over to him timidly, as the nurse excused herself closing the door behind her.

When you heard the door close you embraced him tightly. He winced and you pulled away quickly, “Oh—sorry, Bucky.” He shook his head, grinning giddily, “Don’t apologize, I’m feeling better already.” Unamused, you scanned his injuries, “Are you really? What happened?” At your question, Bucky explained how he and Sam were pursuing a suspect who rammed his car against theirs to stop them from catching him. Sam caught up to him on foot, since the car had been damaged, but Bucky had received the brunt of the hit and that’s how he ended up with a fractured arm and bruised ribs.

“I’ll lock him up you know. He assaulted an officer, he evaded arrest, and who knows how many traffic violations he committed,” the more you spoke the more upset you became. You didn’t realize you were crying until Bucky wiped the tears from your face, and spoke softly to you, “I know you will, you’re the best at that. I see it’s true, though. My fiancé was worried about me.” A look of endearment was on his face while yours was flushed with embarrassment. Although you didn’t bother to correct him, wanting to forget you ever said that to the nurse.

“Well, I was worried. I thought, maybe—no, I don’t even want to say what I thought. I’m just glad you're okay. I actually wanted to talk to you, and say I was sorry and give you, oh no,” you looked down at your empty hands, no tupperware of homemade cookies in sight.

“The taxi,” you gasped.

“Give me…a taxi?” Bucky was looking at you delightedly, holding in his laughter.

“Not a taxi, cookies.”

“Cookies?”

“Yes, I baked cookies to give to you as an apology. I also had this whole speech prepared that I can’t remember right now. I wanted to say I’m so sorry for everything. For being so stupid and not talking it through with you since the beginning. For turning you down before even really giving us a chance. For letting my fear of what could happen, take control of this situation instead of taking control of it myself and handling it properly,” you were rambling on and on causing Bucky to chuckle before grimacing at the pain, his bruised ribs not appreciating his sense of humor.

“Now, was this apology decided before or after you found out about my car accident.”

“Before. Why?”

“Well I thought maybe all I needed to do was get pummeled by a car to see your pretty face again,” he joked, causing you to laugh, "Shut up, it’s the painkillers talking isn’t it?”

“God, I missed seeing you smile at me, doll,” he was looking at you like he had won the lottery.

“There’s something I missed too,” you said sincerely thinking back to how empty you felt without Bucky in your life. You looked down at his injured arm, but he used his good one to lift your chin to look at him. His eyes twinkled, catching on to what you were saying, “Does this mean I can give up on trying to get rid of my feelings for you?”

You nodded, not knowing what words were enough to convey how you felt. Instead, you decided to show him through your actions—so you kissed him. There they were again, those damn sparks only Bucky could make you experience.

He pulled you in by your waist with his free hand, so you were standing in between his legs. He reciprocated the kiss just as intensely as you had given it. Your hands reached up to cradle his head and pull him in closer—if that were even possible. This time there was no fear and no hesitation as you lost yourselves in the emotions you had been holding back for weeks.

The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Lovelies who asked to be tagged: @enchantedbarnes @sebsgirl71479 @xcaptain-winterx @marvel-wifey-86

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