#if someone wants to ask me how this affects Sam going through the N program | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sestra-inestro · 5 years ago

Text

Part of the Team (3/?)

Miniseries for @mushyjellybeans writing challenge. Hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: fem!reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader wakes up surrounded by people she knows but she doesn’t know enough to understand their reactions to her waking.

A/N: I just really wanted to get this chapter over with, I was sick of it. I’m also not a doctor, I only spent a brief time in hospital recently so I still have no idea what I’m talking about but its fiction anyway. I also just started writing chapter 5...you guys got something coming because that shit made me sad,

Warnings: Slight amnesia, nothing really. Possibly typos - idk once again, I’m lazy and trust a program I downloaded to fix my mistakes.

You could hear the voices of people around. Simple conversations and deliberate teasing.

“If I threw one of the chairs out the window, how many spins do you think it would before it hit the ground?” You heard a male ask.

“If you kept asking me dumbass questions I’m gonna throw you out the window. How many spins do you think you would do?” Another male said in response.

There was a pause.

“I mean we’re pretty high up so probably a few. It depends on the spin of your wrist.”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“How about both of you shut up?” Another male butted in.

There was another pause.

“It was just a question.”

There was then what sounded like a clutter and someone struggling against someone else.

“Stop it now.” Someone growled.

Then a door opened.

“I’m gonna have to ask some of you to leave. Fighting in the patients’ rooms is not tolerated.” A woman’s voice told the men and there was no argument as a shuffle of feet followed out of the room then the door closed again.

The silence was cut short by the sound of fabric rustling next to you and a squeeze on your hand. You felt someone caressing the back of your hand and your fingers and a pair of lips connected with the palm of your hand.

Feelings the affection, you willed yourself to move your fingers, but you couldn’t just yet.

The door opened again and a woman’s voice. “Just a check-up.” Another woman’s soft voice hummed in response next to you. As you felt movement around you, you managed to move your eyes around, eyelids becoming less and less heavy and you could finally see some light. The dull light in the room came with a sudden wave of nausea and pain. Which caused you to groan.

The person next to you moved so fast another small wave of pain went through you.

“June?” She spoke and squeezed your hand.

You squeeze your eyes shut again as pain throbbed in your temples.

“Oh, June.” The woman sounded like she was sobbing.

Coming to your senses, she sounds familiar. Those men sounded familiar.

“It’s best if we give her some room, Ms. Romanoff.” Another woman’s voice said.

The door opened again.

“June? June, honey can you hear me?” A male called to you.

“June, We are your nurses Luke and Amy. Can you hear us?” The same woman’s voice said.

“She’s responding?” Said a different woman.

“Yes, doctor.” Said the man.

Too many people in the room now, you try to open your eyes but more pain came.

“Hurts.” You groaned.

“Alright, June is okay.” Said one of the women. “We are going to give you some Morphine, does that sound good?”

You groaned in response as you felt a rush of cold go through your arm. Soon enough the pain started to smooth and it became bearable to open your eyes.

The first thing you see is a beautiful woman with velvet red hair, tied back but falling out everywhere. Her worried, green eyes peered down at you. Nat was here.

“June?” Asked another woman. You look to your left to see a woman in a white coat next to you. “Can you tell me your date of birth?”

You mumble your date of birth to her like muscle memory.

“Okay good.” You watched her through strained eyelids as she scribbled something down on the pad she was holding. “Do you know what country you were last in?”

You thought for a moment. “United States?” You doubted yourself, it felt like a distant memory of being in the United States.

The doctor studied you for a moment before nodding to herself.

“June you are actually in London. You’ve been here for a long time.” She said. “I’m am your doctor, Dr. Patel. And you have been unconscious for the last week.”

You frowned at her. You don’t even remember you became unconscious in the first place. Now you’re in London.

You looked to Nat very confused. Your mind was all muddled.

“Nat, happening?” You asked her.

She watched your eyes with hope. She hoped that you had remembered your time together but she dreaded you remembering the treatment that you suffered while they thought of you as a traitor. But, also dreading needing to tell you again.

Nat leaned forward and grasped your hand. “You got your head, June. You were on a mission here and you were hurt.” She told you.

You were slightly taken aback by her tenderness towards you, as if you weren’t used to her touch anymore, or at all.

“Was anyone else hurt?” You asked.

“A few others, but they are all in their separate rooms. And the team is here too.” Nat reassures you.

On cue, the door opens and in steps in Fury, Clint, Bucky, Sam, Steve and a woman who was almost Steve’s height with a strong sense of authority. She reminded you of Fury. And you heard Clint, Sam and Bucky arguing before.

“Hey, guys.” You smile at them.

The men’s worried faces turned into ones of soft smiles. Bucky waved at you from where he stood.

“Hey there, June.” Steve said.

“So, none of the team got hurt? Just me?” Your words made Nat pause.

“June, what’s the last thing you remember?” Nat frowned at you and ran her thumb over the back of your hand.

You stumbled over the thoughts in your mind. Your memories felt so jumbled and a mess that it made your head hurt again.

“I don’t know.” You uttered out after a moment of thought.

“June.” The tall woman stepped forward. “Do you know who I am?”

You thought for another moment before saying. “You’re familiar, but no, I don’t know you. I’m sorry.”

She gave you a soft, close-mouthed smile. “No need to apologize. My name is Drew Campbell and I’m very glad that you’re okay.” She then looked to Fury, nodded and bid him fair well.

“Okay, I think we should clear out and let the doctor do her evaluation.” Fury spoke up and ushered everyone out but Nat hesitates as everyone files out, not letting go of your hand. “It’s alright Ms. Romanoff, if June’s alright with you staying then you can stay.”

She looks at you with pleading eyes as if begging you to let her stay. You squeeze her hand.

“Please stay.” You told her.

She smiled at you and nodded. “Of course I will.”

Evaluating you, they came to the conclusion that you couldn’t remember a lot of the last 4 years. Very small memories you picked up on showed that you couldn’t connect them to major things that had happened.

Not only could you not remember the entire investigation and the undercover agent, but you didn’t remember getting together with Nat.

“We dated?” You asked her as she still held onto your hand.

She nodded at you, both hands clasping your hand and rubbing her thumbs over your fingers. This loving warmth from her is something you once wished for when you first joined the team and its something that Nat had craved for longer than she would like to admit.

“But we broke up?” You frowned to yourself and fiddles with the oxygen hose up your nose. It had been making you uncomfortable but they insisted that you keep it in to best measure your oxygen levels.

“Yeah,” Nat looks down at your intertwined fingers. “Yeah, we broke up.”

“What happened?”

Nat took a deep breath. There was no way she could tell you about this right now, but she couldn’t not tell you. It would all be way too much.

“It was a misunderstanding.” She told you. “A bad misunderstanding on my behalf and you tried to make it right but I didn’t listen. It’s my fault.”

Her words make you sad. You could remember having the biggest crush on her, always observing how she fought and how she beat almost everyone at training. She was a whole lot of woman and after trailing after her for a while, you got together and broke up. And you don’t even remember it.

“I’m sure we can work it out?” You squeezed her hand in hopes of convincing her to start over.

She gave you a sad smile. But one that held hope. But behind it was fear.

“I hope so.”

Nat went to lean down to you to place a kiss on your cheek when the door opened, the doctor, Steve and Fury stepped through.

“The good news is that you are in a much better state than we thought you would be. A little time to rest and recover will do you a lot of good. We will keep you here for a couple more weeks, possibly days, before we send you home, though.” Doctor Patel said positively.

“Oh good.” You were thankful that you’d be able to go back to the familiar soon.

“But no missions for a long time. Your body still needs to heal from the bullet wounds and you don’t want to rattle your brain any more than you already have.” Steve pointed to you.

You gave him a captain’s salute. “Yes, sir.” Trying to lighten the mood.

“And when you’re all cleared to leave, we have your room set up for you back at the compound.” Fury assured you.

“Okay.” You sighed. No matter what, you had a space to go back to.

“I’ll try and stay here for as long as I can.” Nat tapped your hand.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her.

Tags: If you’re in the tags, please show some love and like, reblog, comment and share. It would be very appreciated. Crossed out is not working.

@geekysimmerthings / @blackluthxr / @panoramahearts / @lesbiiionest / @ludwigvonbaethoven / @cdc-1996 / @sexysamsungl / @daniellajocelyn / @90skid018 / @solaettristis / @5aftermidnight / @booksandlighters / @romeo-the-cactus / @xxxtwilightaxelxxx / @ashadash0904 / @perrythefrickinplatypus

#fem!reader x natasha #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #reader x natasha #natasha romanoff x fem!reader angst #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #avengers angst #steve rogers angst #bucky barnes angst #tony stark angst #ems250challenge #thor #clint barton angst

608 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Something Just Like This - CH04

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Violence? (a little?), Feelings? (a lot?)

WC: 3039

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean crouched down beside Milligan and saw the bullet wound in Milligan’s abdomen. There’s one on Milligan’s thigh too, and all Dean could think about in his state of shock and daze was, that he has got to fucking stop the bleeding somehow.

“Milligan!” Dean shouted out, tapping on Milligan’s cheek for the other man to look at him. “Look at me! Stay with me, alright? It’s not that bad. You’ll be fine.”

He knew that Milligan’s not going to be fine but for all Dean knew, he has got to keep that man alive and let him have the hope that he’s going to be fucking fine.

“Winchester, fuck. It fucking hurts, man!”

“It’s okay, you’re going to be alright, it doesn’t even look that bad,” Dean said, loud and clear, so that Milligan would hear him over the sound of gunfire.

Dean placed Milligan’s own hand on his abdomen and pressed down, applying pressure to the wound. “I need you to hold your hand down like this, alright?”

“Fuck!” Milligan winced.

Dean fished out a tourniquet from the first aid kit he grabbed from the Humvee before he made his way out here, and secured it around Milligan’s thigh, making Milligan scream out in pain.

“Listen to me, Milligan, stay with me, alright?”

“Yeah,” Milligan’s voice was faint now.

“Hey, hey,” Dean grinned, “what you wanna do when you get home, huh? You wanna eat something nice?” He tried to distract Milligan from the pain.

“Yeah, a fucking burger, man.”

“Good, good.” Dean smiled and agreed with Milligan, “Burger sounds delicious right now.”

“Yeah,” Milligan swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth just at the thought of a burger. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“No, Milligan, but maybe the squad leader has one. Let me get you over to him, alright?” Dean lifted Milligan up so that he was sitting, meanwhile they’re still dodging every fucking bullet. “I want you to place your hand around my shoulder and hold on, okay? When I say ‘go’, you hold on tight.”

“Yeah,”

Dean swooped Milligan up and on ‘go’, he carried Milligan over to the Humvee. Running in zick-zacks as not to fucking get shot at.

Dean wakes up when he feels the vibration of his phone that was tucked in his pant pockets and he rubs over his face a couple of times, wondering where the fuck he was until he remembers.

He didn’t even have time to get out of his clothes last night, passed out cold on the uncomfortable couch that’s way too tiny for his frame. He makes a mental note to maybe get a new, more comfortable one, but chuckles because who is he kidding. He probably won’t even remember it anymore come nightfall.

Sitting up, Dean fishes out the phone from his pocket to take the call. His eyes catch the numbers of the clock on the wall before he looks over the caller ID. It’s fucking 7.34AM. He doesn’t think that he’s had more than three hours of sleep.

“Cas,” He whispers into the phone, his voice rough from sleep.

“Good morning, princess. You had a good night?”

“What do you want?” He’s annoyed because that’s just what Cas does. Always circling around the fucking point instead of getting down to business.

“Ash called. We’ve located the truck.”

“Good, get people on it. As soon as you have the driver, give me a call.” Dean hangs up, and thinks about leaning back, maybe even lying down again, to catch up on more sleep, but he feels that his body is awake, feels the restlessness that’s creeping up his spine. Instead of taking a nap, he gets up and walks towards the bathroom. He needs a shower to wash away the rest fatigue that hangs heavy on his shoulders.

Y/N wakes to vibrations of her phone on the nightstand. Blindly, she reaches for it and blinks a couple of times. Still, she leaves her eyes closed because there’s no way she can open them right now. They burn and sting. Those night shifts are clearly starting to take a toll on her and her body has a hard time adjusting to it.

She thinks back to last night, how Dean was nervous about asking her out and she can’t help but grin, thinking that it was actually kind of cute.

When she’s ready to open her eyes to look at her phone, she sees a couple of texts from Linda, who she has saved as Mom on her phone.

“Is everything alright?”

“Hey, sweetie, answer me.”

“I’m really getting worried here.”

And the last one...

“I swear, if I don’t hear anything I’ll send someone around and we’re blowing this whole thing off!”

Y/N thumbs over the screen lazily, yawning when she types a text in reply.

“Geez, calm down, mom. Finally met my target. Everything’s fine. Now wait until I get back to you.”

She sends it out and deletes the conversation.

Better safe than sorry.

When she gets to the Roadhouse, Ellen’s already in her office and curses at her computer.

Y/N steps up behind her new boss, “You need help?”

“This fucking program doesn’t work.” Ellen breathes out, before smashing her hand against the side of the computer monitor and Y/N had to suppress her laugh.

“Doesn’t help if you do that, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Here, let me,” Y/N bends down a little and takes over the mouse. It’s an old book keeping program, nothing fancy. She had a rundown on different programs during training and this was one of them.

Ellen rolls herself onto the side in her office chair to make more room for Y/N, and watches her typing in some codes and clicking on some buttons. Watch her take over the inventory notes and types in numbers. It’s really simple, Y/N thinks. The Roadhouse is a simple bar, there’s only her on the payroll. The books still need to be made, but that’s not rocket science.

“Done.” She says after a while and Ellen looks at her surprised, mouth hanging agape, which really does make the older woman look comical.

“You amaze me, girl,” Ellen smiles, wide and proud, “Glad that I didn’t have to call Ash for it. He’d want to change to a fancy program and what not.”

“Anytime, Ellen.” Y/N stands up, returning Ellen’s smile.

“Why are you here? Your shift doesn’t start for another hour.”

“I just like to be on time.” She says, “Is Ash in?”

“Yeah, he’s holed up in his room.” Ellen’s gaze is back on the screen as she takes in the numbers Y/N just typed in.

“Ok, I’ll go out and prepare the tables and chill the drinks,” She calls back to her boss as she walks out the door. Ellen’s too engrossed in her computer to answer her.

So, Ash is in, she’s gotta find a way to get into the room when he’s out. Or drunk. Both things at the same time would be perfect.

“Why are we here again?” Sam twists in his seat to be able to look at Dean as they are driving out to the Roadhouse.

“Ash.” Dean answers short, his voice low.

“You sure? Because normally Ash comes to us,” Sam’s one eyebrow climbs up his forehead, as if he doesn’t believe Dean.

“Yeah, I wanna see what he’s got.”

It’s a lie. Dean knows where the truck is. Cas’ got his men there since Ash called but the driver is nowhere to be found. They manage to find their own driver though, knocked unconscious some 20 miles north. He can be glad that the driver’s not dead.

It’s not that Dean knows the driver very well. In fact, he doesn’t know about any of them at all, but he considers them family nonetheless. Losing one of his men is like losing family, and Dean doesn’t entirely like the idea of losing any people at all.

Dean also knows that Sam can read him like a book, and Sam most certainly knows that Cas is already on the case.

“Yeah, right.” Sam scoffs but he doesn’t say more, just leans back and closes his eyes, and Dean’s thankful for that.

The Roadhouse is still closed. At least the sign says so, but as Dean drives into the parking lot, he spots her car.

It is strange how his heart thumbs in his chest. It’s a weird feeling, something unfamiliar. He can’t really say that he likes it, though. But he doesn’t particularly hate it, either.

The music from the jukebox spills out as they open the door to the bar, and Dean stops mid-walk when he sees her, making Sam bump right into his back but Dean doesn’t budge. Instead, he freezes. It’s like the nerves that connect his brain to his limbs have a short circuit.

Y/N’s singing and dancing as she refills the fridge behind the counter with new bottles of beer. Her hair is up in a ponytail, her shirt today white and a little see through because Dean can clearly see her bra through the shirt.

She stops in her tracks when she notices them, and Dean can see that she’s already blushing. He kind of hates how much her blushing affects him. Almost like she’s a shy deer, his prey, and he’s the hunter who would just tease around to see her blush but then — then he would drive his fangs into her, he would feast on her, make her scream and blush even more, because he can’t get over how adorable she looks when her cheeks are all pink and flushed.

“We’re closed.” She says but doesn’t stop doing what she does, doesn’t really even look up, and Dean knows that she’s embarrassed, ashamed to meet his eyes. He wonders why that is.

“Just here to see Ash. You’re new?” Sam finds a way around Dean and walks towards the bar, and Dean’s out of his trance, following Sam.

“Yeah, just started a couple of days ago.” Y/N says, grins a little at Sam but wouldn’t let them interrupt her from her work.

“Ah,” Sam looks at Dean, a fucking stupid grin on his face.

What a fucking idiot, Dean thinks.

“Shut up.” Dean mutters under his breath and Sam shrugs, the grin still tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You must be Sam,” She pushes the cooling drawer close with a swing of her hips and turns to face them. Dean could see Sam raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Dean says, “Sam, this is Y/N.” He thought that introducing them is the least he could do.

Sam smiles at her and she’s blushing again. Dean can’t help but feel a bit jealous.

“So, I heard you’re opening your own law firm? That’s a great achievement. Congratulations!” She bends down and grabs another handful of bottles from the crate.

“Uh..thanks?” Sam is confused, Dean can see it.

“I can’t wait for the opening.” She then smiles brightly before she turns around to place the bottles into the mini fridge behind the counter.

She has her back to them, can’t possibly see how Sam looks at Dean with a puzzled expression on his face.

Sam clears his throat then, “Alright, I’ll go see where Ash is.” and walks to the door at the back.

Dean pauses at the counter, letting Sam slip out. He watches her until she looks at him, “You okay?”

Y/N raises her eyebrows and huffs out a breath, “Yeah, why shouldn’t I be?”

Yeah, why shouldn’t she be, Dean thinks to himself. Thinks, that he’s a fucking idiot, too.

“Right, okay. Good.” He turns away from her, doesn’t really know where to look or where to go, thinking about taking off, why did he think coming here was a good idea?

Just when Dean is about to will his feet to take a step, she says something, making him freeze, “Did you sleep alright?” There’s a small smile on her face. Something that makes him relax. She continues, “Not hungover?”

He lets out a breath and turns back to her, smiling a little because, maybe? Maybe he’s not a fucking idiot after all. “Yeah,” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous all of a sudden, “No, I felt fine this morning.”

It’s, of course, a lie.

She nods, and he walks towards the back door where Sam disappeared through. He holds the door open before he turns around again, “Bye, Y/N.”

Dean shakes his head as the door closes.

Yeah, he definitely is a fucking idiot.

He looks up again to see Sam leaning against the wall, his brother's arms are crossed over his chest. “How did she know about the opening?”

“I invited her.”

“Oh, so we just invite everyone that crosses our path now?”

Dean shushed Sam grumpily, “Calm the fuck down, alright? I invited her because Crowley expects a lot of women and we don’t exactly know a lot of them unless we pay them, do we?”

He waits for the words to set in Sam’s mind. He’s right, and Sam knows it.

“Whatever,” Sam scoffs, and turns around to make his way to Ash’s room. Before he knocks, Sam turns to Dean, “You ran a check on her?”

“She’s good, Sam. Trust me.”

They’re standing in the abandoned warehouse. Cas’ is by Dean’s side.

“So, Zachariah,” Dean snickers, “Can I call you Zach, yeah?” He takes a step closer to Zach who looks up at Dean, his face bruised, his eyes beaten black. Cas’ work, Dean knows. When it comes to thieves, Cas has no patience whatsoever.

“A little birdie told me that you stole from me,” Dean smiles a little, his teeth are sharp, his tongue wetting his lips, “How much did he get away with, Cas?”

“Five.” Cas answers dryly, playing along.

“Five?” Dean lifts an eyebrow at Cas. “Are you telling me we’re arguing here about five fucking pounds of meth?”

Dean knows that he wouldn’t care less about five pounds. Wouldn’t even get out here into the dirty and smelly neighborhood because some scumbag thinks that five pounds of meth is worth his fucking time. No, he’d only send his people, but this — this is much bigger than that.

“Five tons, Dean,” Cas says, playing his role in the charade, and rolls his eyes. And Dean registered that, thinking that the eye rolling is entirely Cas and not the part of the good cop he’s playing, “And two cases of bottled Opium. Pure. Not to add the twelve crates of brand new AK-47’s.”

“Oh, now we’re talking,” Dean snickers, and lowers himself down a little, squatting on his tiptoes to look at Zach who’s blood from his nose drops to the floor. Dean’s careful not to get any blood on his shoes or his suit.

Dean’s really not dumb, he just acts like it. Sometimes you need to give them a little show. He knows that Zach has stolen the whole damn truck, they only found him because of the tracking device he has on each and every one of his vehicles.

“So, Zach,” Dean looks at him and holds out his hand, the barrel of Dean’s gun is placed below Zach’s chin. He lifts it up so Zach would look him in the eye, “Who told you to do it.”

Zach spits blood onto the floor, missing Dean’s shoes by a mere inch and Dean grits his teeth, “Nobody, I did it myself.” Zach says, his voice strained, vocal chords hurting.

“Ah, so you just woke up one day and thought, hey, I’m too lazy to cook my own meth, why don’t I just steal from someone who wouldn’t miss it, eh?”

Zach’s lips are sealed.

“Look Zach, normally, I would be more patient. Maybe strip you of your limbs first, starting with your nails, then maybe your eyelids…”

It’s a lie. Dean always starts with the eyelids first. Because he wants the people to see what he’s doing to them.

“…I’d do it until you tell me who gave you the fucking order, but you know what? I’m really not in a good mood tonight.”

Not a word of a lie. Dean hasn’t been in a good mood because he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

“You’d have to kill me, I won’t say shit!” Zach spits out more blood, some droplets made it on Dean’s shoe and Dean’s not particularly amused by that.

He can’t believe that someone would rather die for Lucifer. They really must be brain dead. Or like, brainwashed.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out. Answering on the fourth ring.

“What?!” He barks into the phone, waiting for the other party to answer.

“It’s a decoy. They’re testing us. Ash deciphered a code. It’s a fucking test run, Dean!” Sam sounds strangely calm over the phone. “They just want to see how long it’d take us.”

Dean pockets his phone away without a goodbye and turns to look at Cas. “Cas, I’m leaving. I got no fucking time for this shit.”

“Oh, come on! You’re kidding me!” Cas says, “What do you want me to do, Dean?”

Dean walks towards Zach again and before Cas could even blink, Dean places a bullet in Zach’s head, “There. Done.” He shrugs, placing the gun back in its holster.

“Great. Well done, Dean. Now we don’t know who he’s working for.”

Cas is annoyed, Dean can tell.

Dean turns to walk away, the heel of his shoes clicking on the cement floor. “Sam said it’s a decoy, Cas. They just wanted to see if they could get away with it and if they could, they wanted to see how long it would take us to be on their case. They’re planning something,” Dean lifts a hand in a wave, turning around one last time before he breaks for a run, “Oh, and you know, get Zach’s body out of here, that’d be great!”

Dean doesn’t know where he is rushing to. He just knows that he needs a fucking drink.

CH05

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #mobster!dean #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

299 notes · View notes

trillian-anders · 5 years ago

Text

chambers - v

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, angst, slow burn

word count: 3273

description: Post-Endgame. Steve Rogers has passed away from old age. The one remarkable thing is that no one knew his heart would be in the condition it was. He was able to save one more life. After receiving his heart, strange things start happening. Including something that would change your life forever. (Very loosely based on the Netflix series of the same name.)

an: a little shorter than the others, but! I just had a hellish weekend at work that’s not quite over yet and writing this between tables makes it a little better so... enjoy loves.

The community center was in Brooklyn, the large brick building housed many different projects. An after school program for kids, a homeless shelter at night, various ‘anonymous’ meetings during the day. This wasn’t like the typical VA. It was very much a hodgepodge group of people brought together by the circumstance of Sam Wilson being a good human being. Sam Wilson was probably one of the kindest people you’ve ever met.

You didn’t belong here, maybe this was a mistake. You were standing very awkwardly off to the side, holding a cheap styrofoam cup of coffee. If anything this dress was definitely a mistake, the button up t-shirt dress you figured was a nice middle ground of looking nice but not trying to look too nice, but everyone else’s jeans and t-shirts made you feel like you should have just worn jeans and a t-shirt. The exception was Sam, who ran the group. He was in a nice button down and slacks, but even Bucky was just in a black t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket.

You were trying not to think about it.

“Are you going to be okay while we make some rounds?” Sam asked you. The two wanted to leave you momentarily to go and greet people they know, “Grab a drink, we’ll be right back.”

You didn’t belong here. These men and women who actually lived it. You flinched at the memory that plagued you last night. Boot camp. It was rough, but Steve made it through. Not without sore bones and an asthma attack or two. But it wasn’t you.

You feel like a fraud.

You could feel yourself at a different time, a darker room. People who were a little more sad.

After the blip, when everyone came back, the world was a mess. People who had moved on now had their spouses, partners, kids back. Some of them had new kids, had gotten remarried. Others had died during the blip. The accidents caused by disappearing drivers, pilots. People who couldn’t handle the loss. People returning was just as bad as people disappearing. But everyone picked themselves back up a little easier.

There was optimism with loss. Iron Man, Tony Stark. Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. Captain America, Steve Rogers. They sacrificed their lives in order to save everyone in the entire universe. There were murals of their faces in every borough of New York City. You passed three on your way in.

“This VA is a little different than the one I ran in DC,” Sam said, “But it’s pretty much the same.” There was a mural of their faces in this community center. It made you a little sick. You could almost feel him looking over your shoulder, Steve, hot on your back. Like he was actually there.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Bucky told you as the three of you parked the car, “Get some coffee, eat some snacks. You can just observe.” He was trying hard for you, hand on your back, rubbing slightly to comfort you, but you felt empty when he walked away to talk to a man who was much older. Someone who was almost his actual age, in a wheelchair playing cards with men not much younger than him.

It wasn’t hard to forget that Bucky was supposedly in his hundreds. It was 2025, the guy was 108 years old. He looked to be in his 30s. You felt like you were a hundred, suddenly the coffee wasn’t that bad.

“New here?” A man sidled up next to you, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the metal coffee server next to you. He was handsome, but had the same hollow look in his eyes that you’d often seen in Bucky and Sam. Even Steve. You scraped your fingernail gently against the styrofoam. Nervously you answered,

“Yeah,” You took a sip from your coffee. Fraud. “I’m just here with some friends though,” You explained, gesturing to Sam. “I’m not- I haven’t.” He chuckled, stirring his creamer with one of the wooden stir sticks before studying you.

“It’s okay,” He smiled. Charming. “You don’t have to explain.” His hair looked like it was cut with kitchen scissors, you noticed. Shaggy and reaching around his ears. Five o’clock shadow, motor oil around his nail beds. “I’ve been coming here for about a year now,” He explained. “It gets easier.” Sip of coffee and a sweet smile. “No matter what brought you here.”

“I’m Y/N.” You offered him your hand. He grinned, his teeth were perfectly straight.

“I’m Eric.” His hand was rough and calloused in yours, a shiver went through your body when you noticed he had dimples. “Do you wanna sit by me, maybe?” He gestured over to where Sam and Bucky were setting up the circle of chairs. You looked over at the both of them, who seemed intent on trying to not pay attention to your conversation. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared at Bucky for a moment more, heart aching,

“Sure.”

He refreshed your coffee for you and sat a little too close to make you comfortable. You didn’t notice Bucky and Sam exchange a look, before Bucky decided to sit on the other side of you.

“You okay?” He asked, nudging your arm softly, eyes pointedly glancing at Eric. You nodded silently, giving him a soft smile.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You could tell he felt unsure, shifting down in his seat so he could look at Eric from behind you.

Bucky was unsure about this guy.

“He’s just being friendly,” Sam assured him as they brought out the metal folding chairs from the utility closet. “We left her alone for a while, she obviously was uncomfortable.” Bucky huffed grumpily.

“He’s trying to hit on her.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Relax Buck.” Sam unfolded the papers from his pocket and laid them on the chair he’d be using, “She’s fine.” It didn’t stop him from heavily taking the chair next to yours, leaning back in his seat to examine the guy as he talked, trying to read him and see what he was all about.

“I lost my wife in the field.” He said. Your heart broke, “We were in separate divisions. I’m a marine, she was in the air force.” You could see Bucky shift in his seat. “During the blip she was running drills with a teammate, the plane went down when her teammate blipped.” Eric’s eyes were watery when they met yours, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “I had blipped myself so…” He swallowed harshly. “When I came back… I had nothing to come back to. I always thought if either of us were to die at war it would be me y’know? The air force is typically pretty safe.”

“We were all affected by the blip,” Sam explained, “Some in more ways than others. You’re very brave for sharing that with us.” Bucky grunted next to you and you looked over at him, sunk down in his seat, hands in his jacket pockets, starting ahead at Sam.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered to Eric, placing a hand on his arm. He looked at you with a watery smile.

“I’m trying to move on,” He explained to the group. “It’s been two years since I’ve been back and I think it’s finally time.” The group clapped for him in encouragement.

The air here was tense. Everyone had a story like this, something similar anyway. Sam lost his best friend out in the field. A girl named Ally lost her right leg in Afghanistan. A man named Neil’s daughter died overseas in war, he fought in Vietnam. It was heartbreaking. These people were laying themselves bare, exposing their insecurities and their fears. Their never ending night terrors and crowd anxiety. Slowly, over time, the room became lighter. More relieved.

“You think you’ll be back?” Eric asked you as people were collecting their belongings. You shifted your empty coffee cup between your hands, looking at Bucky behind you.

“Maybe,” You said with a nervous smile.

“We just have to clean up and then we can go if you want,” Bucky interrupted, giving Eric a tight smile before looking at you.

“We can stay if you wanted to play some cards or something?” You offered. Bucky had promised one of the older men from earlier that he would stick around and play a hand or two. He shrugged, looking over at Sam.

“I’m just saying, the first time is kind of intense,” Eric was standing off to the side awkwardly during this exchange where Bucky seemed to be ignoring his presence. “If you wanna go back home we can.” His hand lay comfortingly on your arm.

You shake your head, “No, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” He nodded once, eyes drifting back to Eric’s momentarily before grabbing both of your chairs and walking away.

“Your boyfriend is scary.” Eric laughed nervously.

“Oh he’s not-” You gestured towards Bucky, “He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just like-” You didn’t know how to properly explain it, “Roommates.” Sounds about right.

Relief crossed Eric’s features, “Oh good,” He walked with you back over to the coffee and continued as you poured yourself another cup, “So it wouldn’t be too forward of me to ask you to dinner?” Your hand stilled under the coffee server, looking up at the man beside you.

He was handsome and from what you could tell he was kind. It just wasn’t the right time. You had so much going on. How would you even begin to explain the compound? He had to know who Bucky and Sam were.

“Is that a no?” He chuckled nervously. You sighed and looked down at the black liquid in your cup.

“I’m sorry,” Your eyes met his crestfallen ones, “It’s just…” you looked over at Bucky and Sam, sitting down to join the older men in a game of poker. “I’m recovering from heart surgery and it’s been…a process.” A soft smile broke out on his face,

“Not technically a no… can I at least give you my number?” He offered, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Maybe once you’re a little more out of the process?” You’ve never really dated, having been too sick for most of your life. This could be your chance to go on an honest to god date. Flowers, dinner, everything. You were still so unsure of your feelings. Steve’s and yours mixed all together in this overflowing pot you’d been trying to keep from spilling over.

“Sure,” You pulled your phone out of the pocket of your dress, exchanging numbers with him. He was charming and if that dimple was anything to go by, you could imagine caring about him. Someone that seemed as broken as you felt. Maybe. In a different place, a better life.

“Stay safe out there.” He called as you left to join Sam and Bucky at the poker table.

“You too,” You called back, choosing to pointedly ignore Sam and Bucky’s questioning looks.

“What was that all about?” Sam asked teasingly. A blush spread across your cheeks,

“Nothing.” Bucky was stiff next to you. They dealt you in, a game you’d never played before, but the older man--Louie--assured you he’d help you out. He was wearing his Vietnam veteran hat and he told you that you reminded him of his granddaughter.

“You shouldn’t really be dating right now.” Bucky said later on in the car on the ride home. Sam gave him a side eye,

“Buck, chill.” Sam glanced at you in the rear-view mirror.

“It’s none of your business frankly.” What the fuck? “I told him no.” You pulled your phone from your pocket, sinking down in the back seat.

“I’m just saying,” Bucky shrugged, looking out the car window, “You should be focusing on figuring out whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” You snapped, glaring at the back of his head. God his hair was shiny. “What is your problem?”

“Yeah, Bucky, what’s your problem?” Sam pulled up to the gate of the compound, scanning a key card to enter. He grumbled in the passenger seat,

“Something’s off about that guy.” He explained to the both of you, “I don’t like him.”

“Something off like what?” You asked angrily, leaning towards the passenger seat. “Him asking me to dinner or him crying about his dead wife?”

“I don’t know yet.” You rolled your eyes, shifting away from him.

“This is just like that time Barbie Goldstien asked me to the Sadie Hawkins instead of you, you literally swore she was doing it to be mean.” You accused. Heart dropping out of your chest practically as you realize what you just said. The car was parked and the three of you sat in a tense silence. No one moved. Your throat was closing up, where did all the air go? Bucky practically ripped the car door off, kicking it open with his foot, leaving it open. He walked four paces away towards the front door before turning and returning to the car, ducking his head back in to stare you down, face enraged,

“She did ask Steve as a prank, I told her to either go with him for real or to fake sick otherwise I was going to tell everyone about her pissing herself in the hallway in the first grade. So my intuition was right.” Car door slammed and he was stomping up to the house, leaving the two of you in a strange silence. You tossed your head back, looking at the sky from the back window of the car, tears welling in your eyes.

“I can never win Sam.” He leaned back against the headrest sighing heavily. “I’m losing what’s me and what is him.” He looked at you from the rearview mirror, you lifted your head to look at him.

“Bucky is never going to be easy.” He explained, “He’s trying.” You know he is. “He’s trying.” Sam repeated again, rubbing his eyes.

You didn’t see either of them for the rest of the night.

“I’m getting better at it,” Wanda said, her powers. Practicing. They were incredible, powerful. She was strong, “I lost a lot of confidence after what happened in Nigeria, but I’ve come a long way since then.” She was lifting things in the gym, both of you in workout gear, she was showing you how easily she could lift heavy objects, but you already knew that. You’ve already seen it. “I try not to use the mind warping unless I actually have to.” She explains. You remember that too. She’d shown you Peggy.

She’d shown Steve, Peggy.

You could almost feel her dress beneath your fingertips, swaying side to side, dancing in your living room. Nat King Cole crooning over the speakers of the record table under the window that faced the rose bushes you’d planted for her, their buds just peeking over the windowsill. A roast was in the oven, it was Sunday.

“I was thinking of taking a Holiday,” She whispered against your chest. “We could go to the beach?” You hummed in contentment,

“We can do that.” You flitted back to the quiet singing coming over the speakers. This is what you wanted wasn’t it? Peggy was in your arms, shield and hammer packed away. For all intents and purposes you were a house husband. Coming out whenever Peggy had something she needed your help with, but for the most part…

You cooked, cleaned, you’d recently been discussing having a child.

Who were you now?

You were just Steve Rogers.

Just Steve.

“Hey,” Wanda was in your line of vision, “You okay?” You hummed,

“Yeah, did I have another seizure?” She shook her head.

“No, you just kind of drifted off, like daydreaming.” Huh. “You had another memory?” Her brow was pinched in concern.

“Yeah,” You shake your head as if clearing a fog. “I did.” You sighed heavily, rolling back to lay down on the mat beneath you, staring at the ceiling.

“What was it about?” She asked, sitting herself next to you.

“Peggy.” You gave her a tense smile. “It’s so strange to love someone—remember someone—in such an intimate way, someone I’ve never known myself… but Steve loved her.” Wanda nodded, hand coming to rub your back soothingly.

“He left all of us for her.” Emotion thick in her voice.

It was hard to remember that Bucky wasn’t the only person that lost Steve. The only person who was devastated by him leaving. He left handprints on all of these people’s lives and just left. “The only selfish thing the guy’s ever done in his life.” Sam told you with a humorless laugh.

No.

Steve’s done a bunch of selfish things.

The accords.

You felt the self-righteousness. The belief in being right. A part of you still staunchly believes you did the right thing, the only thing you could have done. The only thing Steve could have done. But you know that it could have been handled differently.

Steve was clouded by thoughts of Bucky and the need to protect the man who always protected him. Bucky was a good kid. Better than Steve ever was. While Bucky was taking care of his Ma, his sister Becca, and Steve himself, Steve was off getting into fights and trying to illegally enlist in the war he would lose Bucky to.

Bucky was really good at science and math, he liked dancing and music, he loved the movies. He had time for all of those things, when he wasn’t pulling twelve hour shifts at the canary and picking Steve’s sorry ass off the street where his face had found someone’s fists.

You suddenly realized why Bucky looked so tired.

He’s been tired his entire life.

“I can understand why he did it,” Wanda continued, “If I had the chance to have either of them back…” You nodded solemnly, the two of you coming to hold each other in the middle of the gym.

“That’s the thing though right?” You stared over her shoulder, watching Bucky as he entered the gym, eyes catching yours, “If we all got everything we ever wanted the world would probably be a much more terrible place.”

You were trying to sleep when the first text came in,

Eric: Hey, I know this is a little soon and you said you weren’t ready to date, but everyone has time for friends right?

You stared at your phone screen in the dark, thinking about the man you had met earlier in the day. You’ve always felt pretty average. You knew you weren’t ugly, but you wouldn’t exactly compare yourself to Gal Gadot or anything. You’d just never had the time for actual dating. You were born with heart problems, they persisted throughout your entire life getting increasingly worse until you found yourself on the table under a knife getting the heart of a deceased super soldier. In high school, prime dating years, you spent more time in the hospital than in the classroom and you were sickly, pale, always with bags under your eyes and a crushing fatigue.

You’d never been approached like this before.

You’d never been asked on a date before.

You’d never had someone ask you for your number and then text you the same day before.

This was new.

So what are you supposed to do? You stared at your phone screen in the dark, the light from it illuminating your face as you typed out your reply.

Do you want to get coffee sometime?

taglist // @nutellakirb @witch-of-letters @torntaltos @emotionallysalty @bookish-shristi @saturnki @jennmurawski13 @geeksareunique @albinotigerpython @an-lover

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #Avengers #captain america #sebastian stan

350 notes · View notes

captainscanadian · 5 years ago

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 4)

My Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: Bucky has a lot of suspicions. Becca had the answers he needed.

Word Count: 6122

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Nurse!Wanda x Platonic!Reader, Nurse!MJ, Doctor!Sam (mentioned)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse & Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay, Blood

A/N: Sorry not sorry. Naynay, don’t kill me!

Being in and out of consciousness for God knows how long was certainly not something you were fond of. Not only were you completely unaware of what time of day it was or even what day it was for that matter, you were starting the hate the numbness that had been brought to you by the patient-control analgesia. Even the pain in your abdomen had become bearable now, but that did not help with the emotional distress that came with the numbness either.

When you had woken up from your drug-induced slumber, you had been greeted by an indescribable darkness that had blanketed over your hospital room. The lack of sunshine peaking through the gaps between the curtains were reason enough for you to assume that it was now nightfall. Your first instinct had been to turn over to your side towards the chair next to your bed, a part of you hoping that the man who had been sitting by your bedside when you had fallen asleep was still there. But much to your disappointment, he wasn’t.

You let out a soft groan at the pain that you felt on your side, thankful that the numbness was finally starting to dissolve. You hoped that would give you enough time to feel like a functioning human being for once before the next programmed dosage kicks in.

“Y/N?” The sound of a tired Sam Wilson calling out your name made you let out a sigh. “Are you awake? How are you feeling?”

You reached your hand up to rub your eyes, letting out another groan. “W-Wilson.” You croaked out, your throat had been dry every single time you woke up and you hated it. “Where’s Barnes?”

MJ had been at your bedside within seconds of you pressing your call button for a nurse. “Dr. Y/L/N, you’re awake.” She gave you a warm smile that showed a sense of relief, her coffee-induced talkative sense taking over her in an instant. “I mean, of course I knew that. Dr. Wilson told me that you woke up just before he was paged down to the ER, but I wasn’t going to come in here unless you called me. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you want me to page Dr. Parker for you? He’s on call right now, probably just crashing in an on call room. Or Dr. Romanoff, she’s not in but I can call her too if you need-”

“MJ.” You cut her off as you let out a weak chuckle, wincing slightly at the pain that followed. “The pain’s a little better now but I’m still feeling a little loopy so... I probably won’t be pumping any drugs into my body until the next scheduled dosage. You can start off by telling me what day it is and... can you please get me some water? My throat’s really dry.”

“Oh... sorry.” She was quick to grab your plastic cup and reach over to the sink, filling it up just before the brim before bringing it over to you.

You took the straw between your chapped lips and sipped rather slowly, feeling the water soothe its way down your throat.

“Why haven’t you turned the light on?” You heard the familiar voice of Wanda Maximoff echo through your room as you saw her silhouette by the doorframe. She reached over to turn on the light and you quickly shut your eyes, bringing your hand up to your eyes to shield them from the newfound brightness. “Go home, MJ. I’ve got it from here.”

The younger nurse took the cup away from your mouth once you let go of the straw. “Alright! Goodnight, Wanda. Wait, it’s morning but... ugh, fuck it!” She laughed softly before stomping out of the room.

You let out another chuckle as you winced, moving your hand away from your face now that your eyes were used to the light. You turned over to look at Wanda, who was holding your chart, probably writing down very detailed notes for Romanoff to see during morning rounds. “I must admit I missed you.” You told her as you gave her a weak smile.

“Oh sweetheart...” She set down your chart for a moment before reaching over your bed, gently wrapping her arms around you, still careful not to mess with the wires and tubes that were still attached to your body. Wanda Maximoff had always been a hugger and a good one at that. Even though you might come off as someone who did not enjoy such physical displays of affection, your touch-deprived self had been very appreciative of her hugs and she knew that. “I was just down the hall to check on your father. He’s doing alright, he’s stable, not in a lot of pain and he hasn’t really shown any signs of rejection. He’s... right on the road to recovery.”

You let out a sigh of relief as she pulled back from the hug. “That’s good.” You told her softly, though a part of you was glad that your risky sacrifice had not gone to waste. “Thanks, Wanda.”

Not even a good night’s sleep, three loads of laundry and an early morning workout at the gym had been enough to distract Bucky’s mind from the woman in the post-op ward. At first, he had felt a ping of guilt at the thought of not being there if you had woken up and asked for him. Even his assumption that you would ask for him when you woke up had made him realize how hopeless he was. But he could not help it. He had fallen in love with you, like from that John Green novel his youngest sister had once been obsessed with, slowly and then all at once.

He had managed to call Sam, who was on call that night, and pester him to check on you every now and then. But when a concerned yet slightly annoyed Dr. Wilson had threatened to block his number, while still checking on you nevertheless, Bucky had found himself crashing on his king-sized bed and having a little faith in the hospital staff as he had promised Wanda. No one would let any harm come to you, or so he thought, and he would see you when he returned to work after all.

Despite the fact that he hadn’t set an alarm, he found himself waking up before dawn as always. Perhaps it was the fact that his own body had been so used to such early morning wake up calls, but sleeping into the afternoon had always been a rarity for Bucky no matter how late he had fallen asleep.

Nevertheless, the moment he awoke from his slumber, his first instinct had been to check his phone for any messages from the hospital. He had threatened Dr. Peter Parker, the resident on your transplant team, to contact him in case anything had happened to you while he was not by your bedside. Seeing no messages from the young surgeon made him sigh in relief. But that did not stop Bucky from being worried. After all, his sister had just returned from Philadelphia and from what she had texted him last night, she had found some concerning information that she wanted to share with him.

If any of his friends had found out about what he had done, they would probably label his actions a result of his paranoia; Sam would have called it pure insanity. But Bucky would probably prefer the more rational term: suspicion. He had been feeling suspicious for a while now, ever since the day he had found you breaking down in the supply room on the cardiac floor.

“Y/L/N?” Dr. James Barnes’ eyebrows furrowed as he recognized the familiar female’s sobs that escaped from behind a shelf that held unopened packages of cardiac catheters.

Of course, this hadn’t been the first time he had found you like that. But he knew you well enough to know that you did not break down in tears that easily. He was aware that you had dealt with more than a fair share of struggles over the years, but that had made you tough. You were a strong woman, he noted. So, if something had made you cry, then it had to have been something very serious. It wasn’t that easy to break Y/N Y/L/N.

You sat on the cold tiled floor of the supply room, your back against a shelf as you pulled your knees up to your chest. You could not help the sobs that left your chest, your cheeks puffy, red and stained with tears as you looked up. “J-James?” You quickly wiped away your tears with the sleeve of the waffle-knit Henley you wore under your navy blue scrub shirt, springing to your feet before coming face to face with the dark haired surgeon.

“Are you alright, doll?” He asked, his lips curling into a frown as a look of concern blanketed over his features when he stepped over to you. His icy blue eyes were filled with a genuine worry that not even the strands of his greasy black hair could veil. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly before shrugging your shoulders, forcing yourself to smile a fake smile that you hoped would be convincing enough, though you may have been wrong about that. He had already heard you cry and no smile can make him believe otherwise. Besides, Bucky Barnes knew you well enough to know when even a smile of yours is genuine or when it was not. He was always the first to notice these things. “Nothing, I’m just... tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.”

He furrowed his brows as he looked down at you, clearly not convinced by your facade. His eyes were soft but the tone of his voice rather stern. It was as though he was stuck between the roles of the senior doctor, the close friend and the man who had fallen in love with you, not knowing which role to play at a time like this. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

Bucky had always been able to distinguish himself between his roles though. He had a way of separating his personal and professional lives in order to keep him sane. There was Bucky and then there was Dr. Barnes.

Dr. Barnes would always wear his navy blue scrubs, his hair hanging loose that he usually tucked under his scrub cap when he was at surgery. Bucky, when he’s not in his ‘operating mode’, usually tied his hair up into a small messy man bun. He wore skinny jeans and plaid shirts when he was out and when he was at home, he wore sweat pants and Henley’s. Even his closet had been arranged in a way to accommodate this.

He followed this rule almost religiously though, except for that one time when Dr. Barnes showed up to a board meeting with his hair tied up in a bun with a Hello Kitty hair tie because he let one of his pediatric patients tie it up for him. Dr. Rogers would go on to say that this had been the most human that he had ever seen his surgical robot of a friend; perhaps until the day his beloved mentee had announced that she was donating her liver to her estranged father.

But now the man had found himself a third role, the role of James, Y/N’s James. He did not know what that role entailed, whether he was the colleague or the friend, but he knew that this was the part of him that had fallen in love with her. This was the part of him that was longing to be a part of her life, if she would let him. This was the part of him that was the most human – the better version of him.

You shook your head as you tried to find a way out of his query, only to fail at your own attempts. “No, James... I’m-”

“You’ve been crying.” He had cut you off. “And don’t even try telling me that you weren’t. I heard you, doll.” He had caught you red-handed, after all. There was no way you could hide this from him, or anyone else for that matter.

“I...” You looked down at your feet, noticing that the laces had come undone in your blue tennis shoes. But you could care less about your shoes right now. You had bigger things to worry about, like the life of the man who had given you yours. And at that thought, you broke down once more, feeling your knees grow weak as you slid down against the shelf to sit back down on the floor. You pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head between them, not holding back the sobs in the presence of this doctor.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Bucky frowned at the sight of you, feeling his heart break to see you in tears. He knelt down in front of you, his soft hands holding your wrists as your hands rested on top of your knees. “Hey... talk to me, doll. You can tell me anything.”

You had always been hesitant to talk about how you felt with others, except to Dr. Rhodes who happened to be the in-house psychiatrist for the hospital staff. One thing that you had learned the hard way from your previously failed friendships was that there was a fine line between sharing and over-sharing. You did not want to cross this line, for that line had ended many friendships for you. It was why you had been so cautious of how close you got with everyone at the hospital.

But keeping your distance from James was not an option for you either. He sounded genuinely concerned for you and his offer had only made you realize how desperately you needed a friend at that moment. Perhaps, using this opportunity to find some clarity about your situation would not be that bad. He was a surgeon, after all. He had dealt with dying patients and their crying loved ones. He would not turn away from you or turn you away at a time of need either. A qualified medical professional, he was. You could trust him as that.

You continued to cry as Bucky took a seat next to you on the floor, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. How much of a loner had you been your whole life that even the slightest act of affection had brought you solace? How desperate must you have been for human contact, for you felt calm from the way his hand was rubbing your back in a rather soothing manner. Your touch-starved self could not help but allow yourself to lay your head gently against his shoulder, continuing to cry. “R-Romanoff... has a patient, who came in with... stage 4... cirrhosis.” You croaked out in-between sobs. “She was... telling me how... this patient was from... N-New Hope, Pennsylvania... because she knows that... it’s my hometown and... she was like... it’s a small town, just over two thousand people... and everyone knows... everyone so... Nat asked me if I... maybe knew this man and... she tells me his name... James, i-it’s... it’s my dad... h-he’s...” Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt another sob.

He bit down on his bottom lip as he continued to gently rub your back, trying to calm you down while pondering what you had just told him. “Oh Y/N...” He frowned. You rarely spoke about your parents or your childhood spent in a small town near Philadelphia. But from what he knew about your past, which only Steve had also known, he concluded that things must not have been great for you. Perhaps that was why he was starting to worry about this revelation. “How do you know it’s him, doll?” He asked. “Did you go and see him?”

You shook your head. “N-No... I-I couldn’t... I... checked his file. The information... his date of birth, the home address... it’s the same. It’s the house I grew up in.” You replied as you let out a sigh. “It’s him.”

“But... how did they-”

“I haven’t... spoken to my parents... since I left... NYU.” You hadn’t realized that you had cut him off as you spoke, still sobbing between your words. “I sent my mom... an invite... to my med school graduation... but she didn’t show. I just thought that I would never... see them again... you know? But now they’re here... in this hospital and... I don’t know, James. I feel awful... for not being there for them.” A successful cardiothoracic surgeon at one of the best hospitals in all of New York, but you had no idea that your own father had been ill. You may have had your reasons to leave home when you did but you were doing much better now. Why couldn’t you get yourself to go back home and at least try to make amends with your parents? Perhaps if you had done that sooner, you would have known about your father’s disease a lot sooner and you could have actually gotten him the treatment he needed before things had gotten out of control. “He’s going on the transplant list... I just can’t believe... I missed so much shit in my parents’ life.”

“Y/N, come on, you can’t beat yourself up for that.” Bucky told you as he let out a sigh. “You had a reason to leave home and cut ties with your parents. Besides, if you did reach out to your mother and she didn’t respond, then you losing touch with them is not your fault, doll.”

“But... I was supposed to be better, James.”

He could not say anything when you had said that. He bit down on his bottom lip once more, his hand still wrapped around your shoulder as he held you close to him. Your heads barely touched as he moved his hair away from his face, cautious that a few strands might land on your forehead as he let you lean against him. “How did they... how did they get all the way to Brooklyn from your small town?” He asked, curiously. Bucky was sure that there were many competent hospitals in Philadelphia. Yet the fact that your father had been admitted at the hospital where you worked seemed to be far from a coincidence to him.

He had found out about your history with parental abuse a few years ago, when you had approached him and Steve regarding your suspicion that one of your pediatric patients was being abused. Bucky had been there to support you when you had contacted Child Protective Services and through the whole process that followed. He had helped you and your patient with the formalities before you had come clean to him about your own abuse.

The revelation had caused Bucky to shut down for a few days and he had once again become consumed with guilt for having grown up with so much privilege. Despite the fact that both of his parents worked long hours, they had done their best at being parents. They weren’t perfect, but they had loved all four of their children dearly and made sure they knew how much they were loved. He could not even imagine how any parent could intentionally hurt their child or how anyone could endure such a thing during their childhood and still turn out to be the strongest, kindest, most genuine soul to walk the earth.

No wonder your walls were so hard to tear down. But he could not help but wish that he could eventually do just that. He was falling even further for you. He wanted to shower you with love because that was what you deserved, even though a part of him knew that you might never let him. After all, you still did not think that you deserved to be loved.

“Apparently, he’s seen multiple doctors in Philly before coming here. Natasha said that his previous doctor had read about her study and referred them to her.” You replied with a shrug. “No, they don’t. I had told my mom that I had been matched to do my residency at New York Presbyterian but I did not tell them that I moved to Brooklyn.”

And that was the start of Bucky’s suspicion. He could not help but wonder whether your folks had known about you working here before they showed up. He had no reason to trust them, after all. While they were your parents, it was clear that they hadn’t done the best job at that. While you would not bother to share anything regarding your past, he could not help but continue to be suspicious regarding your parents’ intentions behind them coming to Brooklyn.

Of course, he could not control your actions. He had to sit back and watch as you eventually decided to approach them and offered to get tested to see if you liver would match your father’s. But that still left Bucky with so many unanswered questions, unanswered questions that you could answer for him but he knew that you would not.

He wanted to protect you, in case things did get to that point where you needed to be protected. In order to do that, he needed to know what he would be protecting you from. The only way to do that had been through looking into you and your parents through a private investigator. And that was exactly what he had done when he picked up the phone called his sister last week, asking her to find out your history with your parents in case they intended to hurt you again.

When Rebecca Barnes had first received a phone call from her big brother, she was certainly surprised. Sure, the two of them still had a very close relationship. But it was rare for Bucky to ask her for a favour, let alone a favour that had to do with a certain female colleague of his.

Bucky had not directly told anyone about his feelings for you, even though almost everyone at the hospital seemed to have figured it out. Perhaps he hadn’t been the best at hiding his true intentions with you. But he had told Becca right away that he was in love with you and that was why he needed her help.

The woman was shocked at her brother’s confession to say the least. But she was also happy that he had finally found himself a woman he actually had feelings for. After all, she knew that his love life had been pretty much non-existent since he was in college. He had been quite the Casanova while he was at NYU, but as he grew older, Bucky had grown and been molded into a proper workaholic who barely had time to date. Even when Becca had tried to set him up with her friends, the over-working surgeon had managed to ditch his dates in the name of surgical emergencies. Some of those times were actually legitimate while others were just excuses.

Nevertheless, Becca had gone out of her way to find out whatever Bucky felt that he needed to know. It had only taken her less than a week to map out the woman’s entire life but from what she had found out about this Y/N Y/L/N, she could not help but feel truly sorry. “You might want to sit down for this, Buck.” She told her brother as she set down her briefcase on the coffee table, opening it to retrieve several foolscap files. “It’s going to be a wild ride from start to finish.”

Bucky let out a sigh as he sat down on his couch, fresh out of his post-work out shower and in the midst of towel-drying his mane. “How bad is it, Becca?” He asked her as he bit down on his bottom lip rather nervously. He feared what he was about to find out but he did not regret that he had taken this step.

“I had to work backwards, since I started my investigation by meeting with the Chief of Surgery at New York Presbyterian Hospital and then the Dean at NYU Med. Although I ended my investigation in New Hope, I think we should start there... at the very beginning.” She suggested, completely ignoring his question. Becca could care less about how nervous she was making him feel. After all, it was his idea to have her conduct an investigation that could potentially be illegal. It was certainly a violation of your privacy if anything. “Y/N Y/L/N was born in New Hope, Pennsylvania... it’s a really small town, like the ones you would see on a TV show where everyone just knows everyone. I was able to get a copy of the hospital records that show her mother being admitted while she was in labor. Sorry, I couldn’t get a copy of her birth certificate. That’s... kind of illegal.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” He huffed as he rolled his eyes. “Why would you even bother with that in the first place? I asked you to look into her parents.”

“You told me to be thorough with my investigation, Buck.” She scoffed as she set the hospital records in front of him. “Anyways, I also have school records and what not. But you might feel like those are irrelevant so...” She picked up another folder. “Her father owned a restaurant around the time she was born. It was apparently going really well for a few years, thanks to the town’s booming tourism industry. But the townspeople say that Mr. Y/L/N had an altercation with his chef and ended up firing him. Everything went downhill after that. He eventually went on to file bankruptcy... I got the court documents right here.”

Bucky picked up the documents and skimmed through them, only to notice that you would have been around seven years old when your father had filed for bankruptcy. “Shit...” He let out a sigh as he looked up at Becca. “That wasn’t even the worst part, was it?”

Rebecca shook her head as she let out a sigh. “The family lost pretty much everything after that. Her mom had managed to find herself a job as a maid in a motel but her dad was unemployed. I think the stress of losing his business really took a toll on him. The people I spoke to... they said that’s when he started drinking excessively.” She paused for a moment, allowing Bucky to connect the dots between the past and the present. “I even spoke to the guy who owns the local bar. Apparently, the man showed up every day before noon and left late at night.”

“And they just kept serving him alcohol for hours on end?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. A part of him was pissed at how one thing had led to another and now you were the one paying the price for it.

“Small towns businesses only give a shit about making profit, Bucky.” She told him with a shrug. “But one thing was clear. No one really likes the Y/L/N’s. They’re pretty much known to be rude and... blamed the entire town for how they lost their business.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He admitted, shrugging. “They couldn’t care any less about their own daughter, for crying out loud.”

“Well, it wasn’t until their sixteen year old daughter went missing for an entire night did the town realize just how fucked up they were.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide when his sister had said that. “What?!”

Becca bit down on her bottom lip as she pulled out another file, this one being quite thicker than the last ones. “I have a copy of the police report that was filed the next morning. It says that the Y/L/N’s sixteen year old daughter had gone missing. Mom said that she came home from school and hopped in the shower. The water was running for a few hours before she realized that her daughter wasn’t in there... and her bedroom window was open. She had jumped out the window in the middle of a snowstorm.”

“In the middle of a snowstorm?!” He exclaimed, his eyes growing wide at the realization of what that meant. He remembered the words you had said to him that that night when the two of you were leaving the shelter. I know how it feels to be out here in the cold… no food, no warm clothes, nowhere to go. The uncertainty of whether you would get through the night and into the next morning, it’s… the worst feeling in the world and… I just wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Bucky leaned back in his seat as he rubbed his eyes, not knowing how to process what he had just heard. If he had trouble even doing that, he wondered how you had managed to live through it all. A part of him felt a newfound sense of respect for you, while another part of him suffered vicariously as he heard what had happened to you. “She ran away from them.”

She gave him a nod. “She tried to run away from home but it was a rather spontaneous attempt. She didn’t have any proper clothes or money, no escape plan whatsoever. She had sneaked into her school to keep herself warm and her science teacher... who happened to be there to set up for the school dance the next day had found her crying in the girls’ bathroom. Y/N spent the night at the teacher’s house before Child Protective Services had been called... and she was taken out of her home.”

Bucky was silent, not knowing what to say. All he could remember was that night when he had seen you at the shelter and then the day you had told him about being abused by your parents. He hadn’t realized the extent of it all until now. He felt sick to his stomach just at the thought of how vile it all seemed. And the fact that you had come forward to donate a piece of your liver to the man who had ruined his own life as much as he did yours, he could not help but shed a few tears. “Fuck... she never told me... or any of us... about any of this.” He said as he sighed, still leaning back in his seat as he cried. “She may have mentioned bits and pieces of her past over the years but...”

“Because this is not something you tell everyone you meet, Buck.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered why she was so... closed off. When she first came to the hospital, she was this really determined... feisty... kick ass surgeon. All she ever cared about was work. She would study her ass off and when Steve or Nat would invite her over for drinks, she would turn them down. For someone who’s been through so much shit, Y/N was extremely focused with everything she did... excelled in surgery, had really good judgement... knew when to ask for help. Who would have known how much pain was behind all of that? Even I didn’t know how bad it had been for her.”

“You are right about that.” Becca sighed as she reached over to put her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Y/N was a very... focused and determined sixteen year old who had clear judgement, knew that she was being abused and knew when to remove herself from that. She knew when to seek help. After she was taken out of her home, she spent the next two years in the system. She didn’t move around a lot though. She was apparently very well behaved. She lived with a foster family in Philly until she was eighteen. She was not... looking for trouble, per say. Her foster mom said that she was a really good kid... traumatized but also... determined. She never skipped school, never missed her weekly therapy sessions, never went out with friends, always home and doing homework, stayed on top of her chores. She was a straight A student, it was even a surprise to her teachers... how much she was thriving once she left her parents. And then she was accepted to NYU for pre-med.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small smile at the thought of how much you had thrived after leaving your hometown.

“She was in the system so she was eligible for funding but she also got a lot of scholarships because she had really good grades. She still worked three jobs while in school... an on campus job as an office assistant, a retail job... and a waitress at a diner in Lower Manhattan. She was on top of her class at NYU, valedictorian. She aced her MCATs, got into NYU Med and... she kept thriving. The Dean himself had written her a reference when she matched with the residency program at New York Presbyterian. The Chief of Surgery calls her a machine... always getting the job done, taking no shit from any of her competition. She was Chief Resident, top of her class again... chose heart surgery as her specialty. The Chief had been the one who recommended her to Steve. She just... she was an unstoppable force.” His sister told him. “She’s... a really amazing person, Buck.”

“I know.” He agreed. “She really... turned her life around after leaving her parents.”

“Speaking of her parents, I found something about them that you might find very... suspicious.” She told him as she handed him another file. “Her mom lost her job at the hotel a few months ago and they don’t have insurance. Seeing multiple doctors in Philly, being treated for liver disease... you know the numbers, Buck. They still have outstanding medical bills in Philly. I don’t think they could afford Brooklyn Hospital or a high profile surgeon like Natasha Romanoff. I don’t think Nat’s all about doing pro-bono either. I wonder how they’re going to pay for all of this because... I’m pretty sure a liver transplant is expensive as fuck.”

Bucky’ eyes grew wide as he looked down at the stack of outstanding hospital bills that Becca had just handed him. “Holy shit... they totally knew what they were doing, didn’t they? I fucking knew it wasn’t a coincidence! I fucking knew it!” While a part him was relieved that his suspicions had been right, he was still horrified by what he and his sister had just figured out. “They tracked her down...”

Wanda Maximoff had always been quite observant. She had a knack for noticing the smallest things, whether it was a slight change in her patients that needed to be noted down on their charts or the slight change of attitude in her friend Bucky’s attitude towards you that could only mean only one thing. But she had always noticed things.

Perhaps it was the way a sleep deprived Dr. Wilson had tried to flirt with Sharon Carter at the nurse’s desk that had distracted her. But Wanda had found herself in the midst of laughter when your mother had exited your father’s hospital room and made her way towards yours. She had been distracted from keeping a close eye on your room that she had failed to notice your mother enter your room, while you were alone and in pain. But most importantly, you had been wide awake.

Thankfully, Wanda had noticed your mother leaving your room swiftly and she had sprung to her feet. “Sam.” She had quickly alerted the doctor, who had also noticed your mother. Neither of them had any idea how long she had been in your room, not that it mattered really. But the moment she heard you shriek in pain and call out to her, Wanda knew that something was wrong.

Sam had sprinted down the hallway to your room as he heard you cry. “Y/N!”

“Sam...” You yelped in pain, in the midst of the never-ending tears, as you looked down at your side to see the crimson shade of your blood spreading across the hospital gown. “I jerked... and the steri strips... came off... the wound opened up, I can’t...” The pain medications had worn off completely, making you feel every bit of pain that you could have felt. “Fuck!”

This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; the words expressly are 'a pound of flesh.

#bucky barnes x reader #doctor!bucky #better #aj writes #buck barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #tw abuse #tw alchoholism #tw surgery #tw needles #tw pain #tw blood

389 notes · View notes

basicjetsetter · 5 years ago

Text

At the End of the Day (II)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: Sad Fluff, Tons of Angst, Language, Mentions of PTSD

Summary: All Bucky wants to do is protect his family and keep them happy, keep them safe. But no matter what he does, danger hunts him down and makes his life a living hell. It has a name. Baron Zemo.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the likes on Part I. Hope you like the second just as much, if not more (conspiratorial wink-wink). Like/Reblog. Comments are always welcome. I’d love to interact with you guys and see what you think about it. (Gif not mine, all credit to its creator) - TJ 💙

Part I

Bucky left 119 days ago.

The first week stranded you in a stunning fog. Living through it felt like waking up from a bad dream, the type that picks up where it left off once you finally fall unconscious and haunts you during the day.

You didn’t want it to be real, and in some way, you tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t, that Bucky was still out on a mission and coming home in a few days. But then you went into the bathroom after rocking Bumblebee back to sleep the night after he left, and you stared at the swollen, red indents molded around your neck. An inner flood you kept tucked away from your daughter poured down your cheeks, and you cried until your body shut down for the night. That was the first, and only night you allowed yourself to grieve.

You couldn’t afford to let your emotions get the best of you. You needed answers.

What happened to him?

Nothing you thought of could make sense. If anything, it left you with more questions. Why now? Why after you fight with him? You knew it was the Winter Soldier, but you wondered how the hell did the programming rewire itself back into Bucky’s mind, especially after all the time Shuri spent undoing Hydra’s work.

Could there have been something she missed? What if the Winter Soldier is now an integral part of Bucky, something that’s grown attached to him after seven decades and has ingrained itself within his DNA?

Or what if it was just your fault? What if you hadn’t pushed him away?

These questions taunted you since that night. You couldn’t sleep. What if it was your fault?

All week you ignored everyone’s calls and messages. The doorbell rang constantly. They all wanted to know where Bucky was and why he wasn’t reporting back to them.

You didn’t want them to see the fresh handprints and hear the croaking strain in your voice.

But after that second week, you finally had to tell them everything. You’d been holding out hope for Bucky to find his way home when the dust settled, but when that fourteenth day hit, and he never showed, you knew. He wasn’t coming back. And it’d be futile to search for a man capable of disappearing into thin air.

Everyone reacted how you feared they would. One look at the bags under your eyes, the faded marks on your neck, and the little girl clinging to your leg and anyone might assume what happened.

They brought Bumblebee into the living area and turned on some cartoons for her, then guided you into the conference room for questioning. Wanda and Sam’s voices were the calmest. What the hell did he do to you? Do you know where he went? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Did he hurt Bumblebee? Is he the Soldier again?

“No,” you rasped, your eyes burning as you stared at the floor. “It was… it was like hearing Bumblebee scream brought him out of it.”

“Why’d she scream?” Wanda asked quietly, kneeling, and taking your hands in hers. “Honey, we need to know to help.”

You gulped back the lump constricting your throat. “She saw Bucky on top of me and came to help.” The image of your daughter’s horror-stricken face flashed in your mind. “He stood up and grabbed her by the shirt and lifted her in the air. And then she started to scream, and he got all confused… and then he left. I swear. The soldier is gone. Bucky would never hurt us. That’s why he stopped.”

“We know that. Right?” Sam asked sharply, looking around the room at the other Avengers. “Bucky is a lot of things, but he ain’t that.”

Rhodey stiffly folded his arms over his chest. “Wasn’t he supposedly ‘fixed’? Cause that doesn’t sound like it to me. As far as we know, the other guy could have been waiting in the wings this whole time, and none of us would have been ready for it.”

You unconsciously rubbed at your throat.

Peter spoke up defiantly. “Uh, hello? I’d have known.”

“Come on, kid, with that tingle-whatever-thing you got? You can’t even tell me when the weather is going to be bad,” Rhodey said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not a tingle-thing, and I’ve already told you it doesn’t work like that. I’m not a meteorologist.”

Banner chimed in. “Doesn’t Happy call it a Peter Tingle?”

“It’s my spidey sense, guys,” Peter groaned. A small smile played at your lips at his exasperation, but it faded when he stared into your eyes. “Trust me. I’d know if Mr. Barnes was a threat.”

Clint sat back thoughtfully, covertly throwing glances to Wanda. “Someone could have been rooting around in his head.”

“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” she hissed back at him.

“I’m just sayin’.” Clint tapped a finger to the middle of his forehead and then to his chest. “I’ve got firsthand knowledge on how that sort of thing works, and not just from you. Hell, if Nat hadn’t beat the snot out of me, I’d have… well, you know.” He trailed off and let the unsaid fill the room.

Sam broke up the tension. “So what? You think someone did something to set him off?”

“Most likely. Wouldn’t be too hard, I guess, considering how the guy had his head screwed with for over seventy years.” Clint said it bitterly but tried to remain sympathetic in your presence. “I know that genius over in Wakanda might’ve fixed what was already there, but there’s a possibility even she didn’t think those mad scientists would set up some type of safeguard to bring the other guy back.”

Banner leaned his hulking mass against the wall. He’d been mostly silent the whole time, rubbing two huge fingers over his chin. His eyebrows scrunched up in concentration.

“What’re you thinking, big guy?” Rhodey called out. Everyone directed their attention towards him.

Banner shook his head clear. “I don’t know much about the guy, to be honest. But your story checks out.” He nodded at you. “Think about it. I heard about what happened that first time Cap saw Barnes and the time they were fighting in the Helicarrier. If seeing him was enough to shake a few memories loose, I’m sure hearing his daughter cry was enough to snap him out of it.”

Rhodey said what you’ve been trying not to think about for the last two weeks, and what you predicted everyone else didn’t want to say. “Sure, let’s say that’s true. Then what about almost killing his wife? That wasn’t enough?”

That was as far in the conversation as you got. You stood up and walked out of the room, closing the door on a stewing argument, and went all the way down the hall and into the large living area. You never spent too much time in the Compound, and you rarely brought Bumblebee here, but every time you did, she never wanted to stay inside.

The trees surrounding the facility are full of vibrant green leaves, and the river is sparkling from the rays of the warm sun. On such a beautiful spring day like today, she’d be running rampant if she had to sit and watch cartoons. She’d be begging all the available Avengers to go outside and play freeze tag with her. Usually, Sam, Wanda, and Peter willingly volunteered if Bucky got caught up in handling some business.

At the moment, Bumblebee stagnantly sat in a bean bag chair, and Scott Lang sat crisscrossed right beside her, sharing a bag of popcorn and tub of Red Vines. From time to time, he’d pretend to throw a sneaking glance behind his shoulder and slide her another Vine, and she’d giggle. You hadn’t seen her smile in two weeks.

You stayed at the back of the room, looking at your child with new eyes. She’d been so affected by what happened. Her little shoulders sagged, and she never asked where her Daddy was or when he was coming back. Most nights, she’d crawl into bed with you, holding her broken rainbow night-light tight to her chest. Every night, she made sure that you locked the door.

She was arming herself against an attack. It broke your heart.

Bucky had been his daughter’s best friend. Now, she only saw him as a danger.

Sam cleared his throat behind you, and you jumped. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He peeped over at Bumblebee and Scott. “How is she holding up?”

“Not well,” you sighed, turning around to face him. “She’s scared to sleep alone.”

“How’re you holding up?”

You felt yourself shrug as you responded robotically. “I’m fine.”

Sam cursed softly. “Man. All of this is just so damn crazy.”

Your voice lowered to a whisper. “I know. You guys figure out what you’re going to do?”

He spoke gruffly. “Rhodey wants to put out an APB across the country to push him out of hiding, Banner thinks we should wait it out until he makes that move, Clint is siding with Banner, and you know me, Wanda and Peter are down for whatever you want to do. You want us to go out and find him; we’ll do that. We left the decision up to you.”

You glanced back at your daughter and tried to picture what that might be like for her, seeing ads and hearing announcements calling for her father to turn himself in to the authorities. No, you wouldn’t put her through that.

“Banner’s right,” you said after a while. “He’ll come when he’s ready.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

You set your chin to stop it from quivering. “He will.”

One hundred and five days later and your confidence had withered into tiny pieces, blown away by a swift summer breeze.

The Avengers accepted your wishes to let the matter solve itself after that initial meeting, but you had a feeling that they tried to keep tabs on him, just to be positive that he was no real threat.

You found yourself driving out to the Compound every day since then, leaving at the light of dawn and coming back at sunset. You told yourself and everyone who wanted to know that it was because Bumblebee asked you if she could watch cartoons with Scott again, which was true, but you also went because the more time your daughter spent away from the house, the more she became her old, happy self. She can sleep in her bed now. She is playing outside again.

Unfortunately, you have yet to snap back to your usual self.

You’d love to pretend that everything was going great in your life. You had the most fantastic support system to fall back on, your daughter healed well from a traumatic experience, and the bruises have vanished into nothing but a ghost of a reminder.

And yet every night, you awoke covered in a sheen of sweat, gasping and clutching your throat with one hand and blindly reaching out to Bucky’s side of the bed with the other, only to find it empty every time.

A deep sense of loss created a chasm of pain and heartache in your chest. Some days it felt as though you were a shadow going through the motions, putting on a brave face for your daughter when you felt like you had nothing else to live for.

The last thing you said to him before going to bed that night played on repeat in the back of your mind. You’re someone I can’t lose.

Not I love you. Not I miss you to pieces every time you walk out that door, and I don’t know if you’ll ever come back. No, those last words you spoke to Bucky just had to prophesize what was to come.

You lost him. And now you’re losing yourself.

Anguish slowly edged through the cracks of your façade. As the days passed, those cracks became visible to anyone who took a good, long look at you whenever Bucky’s name came up. Wanda and Sam caught it every time.

Right now, you and Wanda are sitting out on lounge chairs outside of the facility, watching Peter swing low around the trees with Bumblebee on his back and hearing the girl’s delighted whoops. A tray of lemonade and fresh-cut strawberries is situated between your chairs, and Tater is lying on his back in the grass, soaking up the sun.

Your loose, knotted shirt clung to your perspiring skin, but the sun felt nice on your legs.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Wanda mused, spearing a slice of strawberry on her fork. “Five in three days. You ready for that?”

You nodded absently. “Yeah. I am.”

“Got any birthday demands yet?” she asked lightly, monitoring your response.

You tried to smile. “Scott told her about Disneyland in Los Angeles, and she’s been leaving all these subtle hints around the house. Yesterday, I found a drawing of Mickey Mouse ears taped to the fridge.”

You had bought the tickets the first time she outright asked you a month ago, but you wanted it to be a surprise. Out of habit, you bought three tickets. You hadn’t found it in you to get it refunded. You thought about asking Peter if he’d want to tag along. Sam would no doubt hold a grudge against you for not inviting him.

Wanda placed her fork on the table, turned to sit on the side edge of the lounge chair, and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. “How are you?”

That’s a question you try to avoid with her. Lying came easier when it was Sam or Peter asking, but Wanda knew the hurt you were masking like an old friend.

“I’m fine.” You didn’t look into her intent eyes, choosing to focus on the flair of red hair haloed in the light.

“Is that true?”

“I don’t know.” You gave up and met her gaze. “I guess if I say it enough, maybe it will be.”

Bumblebee squealed louder in the distance, and you turned in time to see Peter climbing up to the top of a tree, dropping down, and then shooting out a web to swing them up into another tree. He’d be fun to take to Disneyland.

Your throat tightened as your vision grew blurry. You tried to clear it as you spoke. “Bucky’s never missed her birthday.”

Wanda nodded knowingly. Two years ago, they were on a mission in Normandy, acquiring intel on a potential terrorist organization. Bucky left despite the threat of insubordination. He ended up facing a week of suspension and received an official reprimand from the Secretary of State, but he promised you that it didn’t matter. You and his daughter were his priority.

“I need to use the bathroom,” you said abruptly, hopping up and rushing into the main entrance hall. The glass doors easily opened to let you into the heavily air-conditioned foyer. Bright rectangular patches of sunlight highlighted the floor, offering a little warmth to the room.

In your haste to reach the bathrooms before the tears spilled, you ran right into Sam. He caught you before the impact sent you backward.

“Woah! Slow your roll, speed demon. Where’s the fire?” He held you back a little to look your over, and his eye widened at the sudden gush of tears running down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

You threw yourself back into Sam’s arms and sobbed against his chest, hiccupping. “I miss h-him. I miss him s-so much.”

Sam led you over to the sitting area by the front entrance, seating you close by his side and letting your tears leave wet blotches on the shoulder of his light grey shirt.

“It’s been almost four months. Why won’t he come home? Why won’t h-he come back to me?” You were asking yourself, not Sam. You’d known for a long time that Bucky thought of himself as unworthy of you, Bumblebee, all his friends. He’d held onto the guilt for years. You weren’t entirely sure it ever went away.

“He doesn’t think you want to see him,” Sam confessed, keeping his eyes to the floor. “He uhm… he may have told me not to tell you that.”

You wiped at your eyes. “You talked to him?” He didn’t say anything. Your eyes narrowed, and your voice took an edge as realization smacked you in the face. “You know where he is?”

Sam bobbed his head, groaning deeply. “He came to me the night everything went down.”

In a flash, you’re on your feet. “You knew this whole fucking time?!” An emotion you haven’t felt in months blazed through veins: red, hot, fiery anger. It crackled into your nerves, swelling in the cavity left in your chest. You clung to the fire like it was the first glimpse of warmth after an unforgiving winter.

Sam raised his eyebrows in defense. “Look, I did what I thought was best. What was I supposed to do? Tell you his address? And then what? What do you think Bucky would have done if he saw those bruises on your neck?”

“I don’t care! I’ve been losing my fucking mind over him, and he’s out here playing hide-and-seek!”

“He wasn’t hiding. He flew over to Wakanda and asked me to keep an eye out on you and Bumblebee.” Sam said coolly. “Zemo reactivated him.”

The name instantly doused the scorching flames to a dull flicker. “Wait? Zemo? How?” The last you heard of the man who broke up the Avengers, he was stashed away under twenty-four surveillance in a secluded Government facility. As far as you knew, he was an ordinary guy with no powers. There’s no way a normal guy could escape that, right?

“Don’t know, but he hasn’t been back to the house since that night. I guarded the perimeter for a month and saw no sign of him.” He watched the fight leave your body sluggish and gestured to the seat you previously occupied. You dropped down into the cushioned chair before your knees decided to give out on you.

He continued. “Bucky said the dude paralyzed him with some kind of sedative and read off Hydra’s magic mind control spell. He didn’t want to risk coming back home, knowing he could go off again.”

You furrowed your brows as you thought of how Bucky looked when you had run into the living room. There was a clear sign of struggle and seconds before the door slammed shut. You’d been so out of it that you forgot about ever hearing the damn door.

You slumped back and pressed the heel of your palms into your eyes. “How long was he in Wakanda?”

“Two months.”

“And he’s fixed?” you pressed, looking up to find Sam staring right at you. “Or is it something that isn’t fixable?”

Sam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and said, “Shuri fixed him. How she did it, I don’t know. He never said. You’ll have to ask him that.”

Hope desperately bled into your words. “Is he coming back?”

“No.” Sam shook his head, and before the chasm in your chest could dig down further, he pulled out his phone and sent you a message.

233 E 80th St. Press 9.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you both deserve to know how the other feels. Bucky thinks living like a hermit for as long as that serum keeps him alive and wallowing in self-pity is the best game plan he can come up with. I’m trying to be the good friend and let him know that he’s a dumbass,” he said gravely.

You nodded appreciatively. “He is.”

“Also, Tic-Tac told me that my goddaughter is having her fifth birthday party at Disneyland, and I’m trying to build my brownie points,” Sam added, smiling widely.

You coughed out an incredulous laugh. “I’m not the one you have to convince.”

“Sure, you aren’t,” Sam winked. He glanced down at his watch. “You better head over there now if you wanna beat traffic. I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

He called out to you as you ran out of the doors. “Hey! You owe me that Disneyland ticket! Tarzan out there doesn’t deserve it!”

The apartment building wasn’t as shabby as you thought it would be as you pulled into an empty parking spot a few feet up the street. All the old units sat bunched together along the road, some with new faces of paint to cover the fading brick. Bucky’s building is a fire-hydrant red, and floor level is a cool gray. If the façade didn’t hint at the old age of the complex, the butts of the air conditioning units perched out the windows gave it away.

The heat made it feel humid in this part of the city. Your hands felt sticky rather than clammy as you walked up to the single-doored entrance, and pressed the number 9 on the intercom panel.

Dread filled your stomach as nothing happened. Did he already look out the window and know that it was you?

You pressed it about three times before giving up. He’s not there, and if he was, he wasn’t going to let you in.

Turning around, you headed back to your car. You reached the front door, and just as you pulled the keys from out your back pocket of your shorts, you heard the sound of approaching feet. You raised your eyes and saw Bucky walking down the sidewalk. A black cap shielded his eyes, and he’s holding a big Target bag in one hand. He hasn’t seen you yet.

You stepped away from your car and right into the middle of the sidewalk. The movement caused him to snap his in your direction, and he paused mid-step.

Bucky looked just as bad, if not worse than you did, but not in the way someone does when they let themselves go. He shaved, and you could tell by the fit of his cap that he’d cut off a considerable amount of hair. Without the facial hair and the locks framing his face, the creases of stress dominated his features, giving him the appearance of a stern-faced model.

A painful thud in your chest reminded you to let go of the breath trapped in your lungs.

“You look different,” you stammered. You look different? Really?

He didn’t say anything.

You wrung your hands awkwardly and tossed a quick nod over to the red apartment building. “That your place?”

His jaw clenched tight, and he nodded, never taking his eyes off of you.

Clearing your throat, you asked, “Can we go inside? We need to talk.”

“How’d you find me?”

The harsh question sent a chill down your spine and raised goosebumps on your arms. But you held firm and steeled your voice to match his. “We need to talk, Barnes. We either do it right here so everyone can see, or we take it inside. Choose.”

Another held breath whooshed out of your lungs as he lumbered to the door and punched in the code to open it. You followed him quietly.

The inside didn’t stray too far off the mark of age as the outside. The same brick furnished the walls on the inside, but instead of red, they were a milk-white. The stairs moaned under the weight of both of you as you headed for the second floor. Bucky stomped, and you kept your step to a light tread. His room was right off the landing to the left.

Once he pushed the door open, and you stepped inside, and immediately the lack of space felt stifling. Down the smallest hallway possibly built, you saw a bed, the fridge, and a desk piled with equipment all in one room. Bucky slid past you after he shut the door and threw the Target bag on the bed.

“Talk.” He ordered, throwing off his hat. The shave left him with a small crop of hair on top of his head and slightly buzzed sides.

Anger clawed its way back through your system. “I’m not one of your subordinates, Sarge. Don’t treat me like one. And I’m not the one who fucking disappeared without a word. You did. So no, I won’t talk. I’m going to hear you explain to me exactly what happened that night and why you felt perfectly fine with deserting your family! Go ahead! Explain that to me!”

Bucky glowered and said, “If you’re here, then you already know why I’m here.”

“Don’t play that game. Just start talking, Barnes. I don’t have all day.”

He pressed his back up against the bare brick wall, staring at the Target bag. “Zemo broke into our house and reactivated me. I went to Wakanda. Shuri went back into my brain and finished fixing me up. Then I came back.”

You asked, “What about the other two months?” Your nails bit deeper into your palms every second that ticked by without him giving you an answer.

Bucky shrugged with a blank face. “Recuperation.”

Hot blood reached its boiling point in your veins, pressing out hot tears that slithered down your face. “Why won’t you just fucking talk to me?”

“Because I don’t want you here.” There was a catch in his voice on the last word, and it dawned on you that he was purposefully building a wall between you, and your anger almost let him get away with it.

You took in several deep breaths, smelling all the Chinese take-out boxes most likely stuffed in the fridge, and exhaled until the anger washed out your system. Bucky stepped away from the wall and plopped onto the edge of the bed. He held his face in his hands. A stab of hurt pierced you once you saw his flesh hand. His wedding ring is off.

“I remember everything,” he whispered. “Everything. Your screams. How you tried to get away from me. My hands around your throat. Bumblebee.” His breath hitched, and the bed shook as his body trembled. “I almost… Fuck, I almost…”

Tentatively, you lowered to your knees in front of Bucky, coming face to face, and you wrapped a hand around the rough skin of his flesh hand and brought it down from his face. Tears dampened his cheeks. “That wasn’t you, Bucky.”

“Then who else was it?” he asked bitterly, letting the tears fall to his chin. “Whose name did you yell to stop? Whose name did our daughter scream? You don’t see any other face but mine. Just because I can’t control what I do doesn’t mean I didn’t do it.”

“I knew it wasn’t you,” you said in a small voice. “It’s your eyes.” They regarded you now, bloodshot and watery. He hasn’t slept well either. You went on softly. “The Soldier’s eyes are ice-cold and vacant. Your eyes are sky blue, open and filled with warmth. I knew the instant he looked at me that it wasn’t you, Bucky. You’d never hurt me.”

He shook his head, miserably. “But I did.”

You held onto his flesh hand and motioned for him to give you the other one. He didn’t budge, so you reached out and grabbed the metal hand. Then you began to move them up to your neck. Bucky tried to snatch them away, but you gripped them harder and placed them around your throat.

You firmly held his hands in place, noting how his metal hand felt almost as warm as his flesh hand. He shook harder.

“I trust you.” When you were sure he’d keep them there, you laid your hands on either side of his face and brought his forehead to yours. “Please come back home.”

Bucky’s breath blew ragged in your face, and a pained sob rumbled in the back of his throat. “I’m not worth it, Doll.”

“Yes, you are. I meant what I said that night. I meant every word. You, James Buchanan Barnes, are someone I can’t lose.” You pulled back and looked straight into his eyes. “Because if I lose you, I might as well be lost too.”

Your lips met his halfway, pressing together gently in a long, unbroken kiss meant to memorize what you hadn’t felt in almost five months. They felt warm and incredibly soft as they found their rhythm against yours. He relaxed under your hands and allowed him to cup your neck gently. The kiss didn’t exude lust and passion. It didn’t have to, because it wasn’t supposed to heighten or rekindle the spark. It’s supposed to keep it warm and safe.

You parted breathless, sharing each other’s air as your foreheads pressed together again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his thumbs along the back of your jawline.

“Don’t be. Just don’t leave me like that again.” You sighed as he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

He opened his mouth to speak right at the moment your phone vibrated in your pocket. You kept his eyes on his eyes, not even checking to see who was on the caller ID when you tapped the green ‘Answer.’ The voice on the other end spoke frantically and out of breath.

You frowned. “Hello? Who is this?”

“It’s Peter. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I can’t find her. I’m so, so sorry. It happened so fast, and I had my back turned for like one second to go get us some ice cream at the park and she was on the swings—”

“Peter, slow down. Just tell me what happened.”

“Bumblebee is missing.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #dad!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #post endgame #baron zemo #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes mini series

73 notes · View notes

mymarvelbunch · 4 years ago

Text

Different Roads... Same Destination: Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (established)

Summary: When the Avengers went back in time to get the Infinity Stones, new timelines were created. By not delivering them back to their exact same spots, you and Steve created major changes in those timelines. What happened? (Non-American!Reader)

This is a sequel to “Be Your Own Hero”. I highly recommend you read it first, since it features many major changes in canon that are addressed here.

Notes: Y/N = your (first) name; Y/Co = your home country; Y/Ci = your home city; Y/N/L = your native language (to be ignored in case you speak English).

Masterlist

Part One

New York, 2012

The Avengers were still trying to understand what happened when a loud ‘thud’ was heard. Tony turned to see the Scepter lying on the ground.

“Well, here is the thing Loki used to brainwash people”, he said. “But where is the Tesseract?”

“This isn’t the Mind Stone”, Loki said. “They placed the Tesseract in the Scepter.”

Everyone turned to him. He had already been right minutes prior, when he pointed out there were four Avengers from the future. Now the team was more inclined to believe him again, especially Thor.

“How do you know this, brother?”, he asked, frowning.

“The glow is different, for starters. And... I don’t know how to say this accurately, but I feel different when the Mind Stone is near me. Ever since those warriors came from the future and took it, I felt... lightweight, even if for brief moments. As if...”

Thor’s eyes widened. “As if the Mind Stone has some sort of power over you.” Loki nodded weakly. “Well, this is important information. Mother will certainly know to fix this. Stark, hand me the Scepter. It will be safer in Asgard.”

A SHIELD agent opened his mouth to protest, but there was little they could do as Tony gave Thor the Scepter. The Asgardian walked to the open balcony, his brother in his arm, and left, though not without asking his ‘brothers-in-arms’ to find the Mind Stone first.

“We’ll do surveillance around the Tower”, Runlow said, “with your permission, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I don’t want that thing near any of us.”

“Wait”, Tony said. “Loki was under mind control back then?”

You turned behind to face him, but a quick glance told you almost everyone was surprised. “You didn’t know? He told me back in 2014.”

Loki wasn’t there to defend himself, busy as he was being king, but Thor was. “Honestly, I didn’t know either, not until Asgard was destroyed. Loki told me on our way here that Mother chose to perform her purification spells out of everyone’s eye because... It would be better (or less worse) to have people believe Loki had turned evil than to have them know about Thanos. But yes, he was under Thanos’ influence through the Mind Stone. It wasn’t exactly like what he did to Barton and others, but close enough.”

That made an awful lot of sense. No one had a good answer for that, and they turned back to the ‘screen’.

It took five years for the Mind Stone to be found. In the meantime, SHIELD was dismantled, the Winter Soldier was revealed to be a brainwashed Bucky Barnes and HYDRA was taken down piece by piece.

There was no Scarlet Witch, no Quicksilver, no Ultron, no Sokkovia Accords, no Zemo. Steve found Bucky in Bucarest in 2016 and, after weeks of talking and with Sam’s help, took him to New York. There, they faced another battle, as many people wanted him in jail for the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier.

Surprisingly, their help came from Tony. “I know what he did to my parents, yeah. I read all those files Romanov leaked. But we all saw what brainwashing does to a person, huh?”

No, Tony and Bucky didn’t become friends. Despite his forgiveness, Tony was still wary of him; poor man had his own mental health issues to face already. But he was willing to pay the best lawyers to convince the public that Barnes had no control over himself for the past seven decades, and that the Winter Soldier was nothing but a weapon in HYDRA’s hands. It took time and money, but it was worth it, for Bucky was absolved and reclaimed his status as war hero.

Even so, he didn’t want to stay in US. “Too many memories”, he explained, and Steve understood. It all got worse when one of Tony’s employees found a glowing Stone in the elevator shaft. Thor wasn’t on Earth when it happened, so the Mind Stone stayed at the Tower for a while. Needless to say, Steve was worried, and Bucky was terrified.

“I found a place that might be good for you”, Maria Hill told him one day. “Y/Ci, in Y/Co. It’s a place untouched by HYDRA and with no evidence that the Winter Soldier ever stepped foot in there. No memories, no triggers.”

Bucky accepted the offer almost immediately, and Steve was happy to follow him. “I’ve had enough fights for a lifetime”, he said. “We should have retired from soldier duty decades ago, Bucky. We both deserve a normal life.”

It was early 2018 when they finally settled, and, upon Steve’s insistence, Bucky started looking for mental health care facilities.

Your grip on Steve’s hand tightened when you recognized the mental health facility Bucky got inside. “I was an intern there at college”, you said. Steve’s eyes widened, and he grinned.

“Maybe Bucky will be the one to get you instead of me”, he teased.

Behind you, whispers could be heard.

“It’s weird to not see myself with you guys”, Wanda said. “I wish I could know if Pietro is alive.” Vision rested his hand on her shoulder, likely reflecting on how would his life be if he had stayed as a disembodied voice.

“Wakanda wasn’t even mentioned”, Shuri said. “I guess with father still alive, the borders remained closed.”

“Probably the reason why Bucky moved to Y/Co instead of Wakanda”, Sam added. “If people still think Wakanda is a poor country, no one would think of it as a mental health care reference.”

“I’m not mentioned either”, Scott said, “which is kind of weird, because I don’t see why I wouldn’t meet at least Sam.”

“Yeah, but there was no fight in Germany for you to take part of”, Hope replied. “They probably never contacted you again. Parker isn’t mentioned either.”

Someone shushed them.

Even though he had scheduled it all by himself, Bucky didn’t want to go his first appointment alone. So, when Y/N called for Sebastian Stan (his new alias), he and Steve (who called himself Chris Evans) stood up together from their seats.

Inside, Bucky soon confessed his true identity. Your surprise was visible for five seconds, and then you smiled. “I’m glad you trusted me with such a delicate information, Mr. Barnes. But I wish you’d tell me your story with your own words, not just what was said about you on newspapers.”

Steve stayed inside the whole time, having also revealed who he was. Bucky didn’t tell his whole story at once, give there was a time limit for his appointment, but you asked him to come back in a week. “We can’t give you any concrete diagnosis for now, Mr. Barnes, though we have a few suspicions. But I assure you we’ll help you in every step of your recovery. You won’t be alone.”

After three more sessions, he was diagnosed primarily with PTSD, along with general anxiety disorder and memory problems (he had yet to remember key details of his past).

You were supposed to leave the facility at the end of the month, but your mentor offered you a prolonged stay. “You mentioned your next internship would be in surgery, and you don’t like it, right? I can pull some strings to keep you here. It’s not like you’ll need those skills to become a psychiatrist.”

You happily accepted his help. You’ve always been sure of what you wanted to do after finishing college; skipping surgery internship was honestly a dream come true, and you were eager to follow Barnes’ case. Your classmates didn’t know his true identity, but the case discussions made it clear you got one of the most complex cases at the facility, and some classmates envied you.

Your teacher was successful, and for the following three months you stayed, taking care not only of Barnes, but of other patients as well. It was a wonderful experience, and you were sure you had fallen into the staff’s good graces, which increased your chances at getting into residency program there after graduation.

As the weeks went by, though, you noticed something rather odd. Barnes had been getting inside the room alone since his fifth appointment, but Rogers still accompanied him, waiting for him outside. Eventually, you asked your patient why that was, assuming he’d say he still didn’t feel safe coming alone. Instead, he grinned.

“Oh, he pretends he comes for my sake, but he actually just wants to get a glimpse of you.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva.

At your side, Steve laughed and hugged you tight.

“Guess I didn’t steal Y/N from you after all, punk”, Bucky said, grinning just like his alternate counterpart.

“Thank God”, you replied. “No offence, Bucky, but seeing us dating would have been way too awkward.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

---x---

It wasn’t easy for Steve to convince you to go on a date with him. You were hesitant, given he was her patient’s best friend and roommate, but eventually you conceded.

“We won’t talk about Barnes at all”, you said firmly. “And if I sense this will affect my relationship with my patient, it’ll be over.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied instantly, willing to do anything to see you more.

You had charmed him from day one, and his interest on you only grew as weeks went by. When the day of your date arrived, he was a nervous wreck.

“Haven’t seen you like this since Peggy”, Bucky mentioned.

“Shut up, jerk”, he retorted. “And go hide, I don’t want Y/N to see you and cancel our date.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger and you haven’t even kissed yet”, he teased, but left to his room anyway.

A date led to another, and another, and another... Steve waited for you to leave the facility and stop seeing Bucky to ask you to be his girlfriend, and she promptly agreed.

A year later, when you met the Avengers for the first time, Thor told the story of how he, Loki and others fought Thanos when he invaded Asgard to take the Space and Mind Stones. Your eyes widened as he gleefully detailed the purple alien’s demise.

“Glad you defeated him still in Asgard”, Tony said. “We just found out about another of these Stones here on Earth. A wizard here in New York is its guardian.”

“Really? Give me his address, I figure we have much to discuss.”

You didn’t really understand all those talks, but Steve’s visible relief was enough information for you.

On the current timeline, that same relief was visible among everyone. “A peaceful timeline”, you commented. “I hope there are more of these.”

After Strange showed what happened to the Avengers who were not featured, Wong took his place to show another timeline. You straightened your back as the ‘screen’ showed you briefly kissing Steve in Morag.

Did you like it? I was looking forward to write about the consequences of those changes. Butterfly effect is strong here.

For those who don’t remember, in ‘Be Your Own Hero’ Loki tells the Reader he was under the influence of the Mind Stone in the events of the first Avengers movie. This is a popular theory that explains some differences between his behavior in that movie and his behavior on... well, any other movie he’s in.

In this, I try to touch on how things would be different if this information was made known right away, instead of being kept a secret. Being seen as a victim instead of a villain changes a lot for Loki’s story, and therefore Thor’s arc as well (The Dark World and Ragnarok’s. It also helps Tony understand Bucky’s story and actions better, since he saw the effects of mind control on Clint and Loki.

Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Ultron and Vision are all products of the Mind Stone, meaning that, in its absence, they don’t exist. The events of Age of Ultron are what make Civil War happen, meaning one doesn’t exist without the other. With no Civil War, nobody reaches out to Scott, T’Challa doesn’t become king to open the borders, and Peter Parker’s role in Tony’s life is probably less significant (though I do believe he mentors the teenager anyway).

If you want to follow my crazy ideas on time travel and its consequences, taglist is open!

#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel imagine #The Avengers

15 notes · View notes

kpopficsincorporated · 5 years ago

Text

NK (New Kid)

Pairings: Bang Chan x reader, Jimin x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance

Words: 2218

Special appearances by Stray Kids, GOT7, and BTS in later chapters.

---

A/N: if you can’ tell by the pairings, I’m on a Jimin and Chan kick. Excuse me while i watch videos of them that continues to break my heart.

On another note, this is something I’ve had in the files that I had started in the spring semester. It’s going to be an interesting thing that I hope y’all will like.

-Admin Sam

---

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Prologue:

You couldn’t have been more stupid. You were crouched on the ground, tears falling down your face from frustration and helplessness. People were passing you by, giving you odd looks but not stopping to talk. And then, two did.

It was a couple of guys, their faces covered in masks, one wearing a black bucket hat and the other a black cap. The one wearing the cap crouched down in front of you and asked a question in Korean.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” you whimpered, feeling hopeless. You looked down, too ashamed to look and see the pity in his eyes.

The guy pulled down his mask, “Can I help you? Are you okay?” His English was pretty decent but you could tell it wasn’t his first language.

You chuckled darkly, not in regards to him, but in regards to yourself. “No, I’m not okay.” You were bitter with yourself for letting something like this happen.

You looked up and recognized immediately who was speaking to you. A member of Stray Kids. Han Jisung. You gasped loudly, eyes widening.

“Are you crazy?” you whisper shouted. “Where is your manager? Do you know what would happen to you guys if you get caught by a fan out here? You’ll be mobbed and jumped!”

The other boy laughed, and you recognized it. You looked up at him and knew that freckle under his eye. It was Hyunjin.

“You’ve been sitting here a long time. We just wanted to help. What happened?” Han pushed on.

“Okay, don’t laugh. I did this to myself,” you started, casting your eyes downward in shame. “I got lost. My phone died, so, not only do I not have my GPS or the address of the place I’m staying, but I can’t speak Korean and I can’t ask for help and I don’t know what to do , so I’m throwing myself a pity party.”

He spoke to Hyunjin in Korean, and you immediately felt lost again. There was a trickling of distrust that fell down your spine. Were they talking about you and making fun of you?

“One second,” Han told you, bringing out his phone and making a call. When the person on the other end answered, he became very expressive in his speech. “Here, he can help.”

Han pulled his phone down, putting it on speaker for someone to talk to you.

“Hello, my name is Chan,” a thick Australian voice greeted.

“Hello, Chan. I’m Y/N.”

“Can you explain to me what you tried to tell them? They’re a little confused,” he said slowly. You quickly embarrassed yourself once more to the boy on the phone. Chan even laughed at you for a bit before reassuring you that it was fine and that you definitely weren’t the first.

“We’re actually on the way to pick them up. Would you like to ride with us to the JYP building? We can charge your phone there and once it’s done, we can take you where you need to go.”

“Is that okay?” you asked uneasily. You didn’t want to get them in trouble – didn’t want to cause them any problems.

“Yes, it’s perfectly okay. We’re almost there. I’ll tell Han what’s going on.” He then switched back to Korean, speaking to Han and explaining the situation. Han nodded his head, making noises of affirmation before ending the call with Chan.

“Sorry. You speak English very fast and I couldn’t understand well,” Han told you sheepishly, ducking his head in apology.

“No, no, you’re fine. I’m just upset,” you quickly tried to reassure him.

He smiled in appreciation before standing up and offering you a hand to help you up. You graciously took it, realizing how stiff you were from being in the same position for a long time. Your body groaned in frustration and achiness.

“Oh geez, I’m getting old,” you tried to joke, but it seemed you weren’t heard because a van pulled up by the curb. The door opened, revealing a smiling Chan.

“Come on, get in,” he said, quickly getting out of the way. Hyunjin ushered you in and you took a seat next to Chan, anxious from the situation.

“You’re not gonna murder me or anything, right?” you asked the Australian beside you who just began to laugh.

“No, we aren’t going to kill you.”

“Solid, solid,” you replied, nodding. You pointed to the man in the driver’s seat. “Is this your manager?” Chan affirmed and quickly introduced you to the man. It was sort of awkward, and you felt uncomfortable in the van with four guys.

Hyunjin asked your name again, opening a conversation as to who you were and what you were doing in Korea. With Chan helping to translate, you answered, stating that you were here on a study abroad program. You were going for international studies with a major in Asian culture. At least, it’s what you thought you wanted. You had originally planned on being a nurse, you had your degree and everything, but that kind of fell through when you least expected it. You had already been in college for four years, worried that you were going to be a student all of your life, especially now that you were starting over on a completely different degree.

As you began discussing favorite movies and music with the boys, the van stopped in a brightly lit parking garage. The boys led you inside the building and to a type of employee lounge that was filled with tables.

“What took you so long?” A deep Australian accent asked from a table in a lounge area. Felix. “Oh, hello.”

You waved awkwardly, unsure what to do or say. As the group of you walked closer, you noticed he was sitting with I.N. Chan walked to a bag at the table, pulling out a charging cord.

“Here, you can charge your phone with this.” He handed you one end to plug into your phone and plugged the other end into the wall beside Felix. He pulled the chair out on the other side of Felix, motioning for you to sit.

“Is it okay to sit by you?” you asked the younger boy. He muttered a quick sure, motioning for you to sit next to him. “Solid, okay.”

As you sat down, Chan quickly took the seat on your other side, forcing the other two boys to the other side of the table, Han sitting in front of you and smiling.

“So,” Felix dragged out. “Who are you?” he asked, causing you to laugh at the way he asked.

“I’m Y/N,” you answered once you had calmed down. “I’m the damsel in distress.”

“Oh, is that what you are?” Chan asked, chuckling slightly.

“That’s what I am today, apparently. Right?”

“What is ‘damsel in distress’?” Hyunjin asked. Chan quickly explained in Korean and Felix gathered your attention once again. He quickly asked you questions about yourself, the same ones that were asked in the van and you answered. It didn’t take long to become friends with the guys. They easily accepted you and included you in their conversation, even with your lack of Korean. The guys weren’t anything you expected them to be. They were just like a normal group of friends, kind of like the ones you had at home.

“So, I won’t get trouble being here, right?” You asked for the millionth time. You knew you were being slightly paranoid, but you really didn’t want to cause any issues.

“We can literally have any friends we want to. You just have to be sworn to secrecy,” Felix said, holding out his pinky. You linked your pinky with his, smiling.

“I’m pretty sure I would be affected more negatively than you guys would. You don’t have to worry about me saying anything. I want to attend college peacefully,” you joked, although you were being completely serious. You didn’t have any friends who cared about KPOP at home and you had yet to make any friends in your college, so there was no one to tell.

“Good, now, what’s your phone number?” At Felix’s question, you couldn’t help but burst into nervous giggles. “What’s so funny?” he asked, looking as though he wanted to join in your laughter, but wasn’t sure if he should.

“Nothing, that just came out of nowhere,” you replied shocked. You reached for your phone around Felix, quickly telling him your number.

“Me, too!” Han yelled, handing his unlocked phone to you, and then there were five phones in your face, all of the guys wanting your number.

“Okay, okay, calm down, I’ll give you my number,” you laughed.

“You can text us and hang out whenever you want, and we’ll always try to reply as soon as we can. We can never guarantee a reply with our schedule if we have a comeback,” Chan informed you. You had finally made friends, and it had not been who you’d expected, but they were friends with you, nonetheless.

“Are the other members going to be okay with you guys hanging out with a random girl?” You couldn’t help but voice one of the many concerns rolling around in your head. Despite their kindness and their reassurance, you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to cause insurmountable trouble for them. You didn’t know much about the system but wasn’t it against some company policy to openly be friends with the other gender because of all of the scandals it could create. And you knew for sure that JYP had a strict dating policy (no, you weren’t dating them, but facts are always easily misconstrued and the truth rarely believed).

“Well, you could come over tomorrow and meet them if you want.” Your eyes nearly popped out of your head at Chan’s suggestion.

“Come over where?”

“The dorm. We can cook you something to eat and have you meet the rest of the members. Would that be okay with you?” Would that be okay with you? Is that really a wise decision? But the hopeful eyes of the five boys at the table decided for you and you couldn’t help but say yes causing them all to smile cheerfully. “Great! We can send a vehicle to come pick you up so that you’re dropped off in the parking garage. That way, you’ll be unseen.” He waved his fingers mysteriously in front of your face.

“I see,” you giggled. You looked down at your phone and realized it had completely charged. “Well, I’d love to stay and hang out today, but I have some homework waiting on me that is due tonight. I had originally gone out today to procrastinate, which really led to my downfall, but hey, at least I met you guys,” you joked. You turned to the three guys sitting in front of you. “I’m sorry I can’t speak Korean well. I will study really hard so that I can talk to guys more.” Felix placed his hand on your shoulder causing you to look at him.

“It’s okay. We’ll help you, or, well, Chan can help you.” You laughed at the shove of responsibility, but Chan agreed with him, nonetheless.

“Come on, I’ll take you down to the garage, and we’ll take you where you need to go.” Chan grabbed his charger from the wall, gathering his things and quickly leading you back to where you had come from originally. Chan was the only one who rode back with you to drop you off, sitting in the back so you could sit up front. That way, it was easier for you to get out and easier for him to hide. The van stopped close enough to the college campus that you could walk, but also far enough that the van itself wouldn’t really be noticed.

You turned around in your seat, deciding at the last minute to climb in the back. You quickly hugged Chan before he could realize what was really happening. “Thank you for today. You saved me.” He hugged you back, holding you before you pulled away.

“You're welcome.” When you were apart, you were blushing more than was necessary as you climbed back to the front to get out. “Make sure you text me when you’re free tomorrow. Or you can just text me,” Chan said right before you could get out. You laughed and nodded in response before climbing out and walking back to your dorm. The sun was already setting and it was getting dark, so you walked as fast as you could to get there before it was completely night.

The next day, you received a text from Chan saying that he’d pick you up at the same place you were dropped off. You decided that just in case, you would start wearing a mask and sunglasses. Once you found the van and confirmed with a text from Chan that it was indeed him, you climbed into the front passenger seat, crawling into the back. You gave Chan a hug in greeting, surprising him.

“Oh, sorry. Was that not okay?” You asked, pulling away.

“No, it was fine. You give really good hugs,” he chuckled at your blush.

“Ready to meet the others?” he asked as he settled back into his seat.

“No, not at all.”

40 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 6 years ago

Text

You’re My Mission Pt.17

What The Hell Did I Just Do?

10/07/2018

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,235

Masterpost

Warnings: Lanugage, angst

A/N: Okay, so, this one is short. And I’ll explain why. The next one is probably going to be hella long. Do people still say hella? Anyway, I mean, that could change. The next one might very well be short as well because I honestly have things planned certain ways and then as I’m writing them it turns out that doing them another way might work better so I adjust. I’m so glad that you guys have stuck with me through this horrible slow burn monstrosity. So much angst and you’re still here. You’re all masochists and let’s face it, I’m sadistic and love to torture you. As always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. You da real mvp. Hope you like this one. xoxo

“It's been two months, Buck. How long are you going to make her wait?” Steve pushes his cell phone across the coffee table as Bucky leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands are held loosely, dangling between his legs as he considers Steve's offer.

“This is the last chance you'll have. Nat and Sam are already gone. I have to leave tonight.” It's gotten dangerous for the Secret Avengers. The time had finally come.

Steve, Nat, and Sam could no longer trespass on T'Challa's hospitality. Bucky swallows hard, looking up at his best friend. Once he's gone, he won’t have anyone left. This loneliness is what he deserves. He knows that he still has so much to atone for.

Hurting you the way he did, how could he possibly call you and ask you to come back? Would you even want to?

He looks down at the phone again and reaches for it. He holds it in his right hand, feeling the hard plastic, appreciating the weight of it. Such a small device and it means the difference between possibly getting you back or not.

Bucky flips the phone open and stares at the three programmed numbers. Sharon's name sits at the top.

“How does Sharon feel about losing you to a life on the run?”

Steve shakes his head, saddened by Bucky's question. “Well she ain't pleased. But she knows I have no choice. We said our goodbyes last night.”

Unable to contain himself, Bucky smirks at Steve. Steve’s lip curls up at the corner as he blushes and looks down at the floor knowing full well what Bucky's smirk means.

“I hope it was a nice goodbye.” He teases, but his smirk slowly falls as he repeats his own words in his head.

Any goodbye is better than no goodbye.

He looks at the next name. ‘Tony Stark’ and feels a strong sense of guilt as he stares at this name in particular.

He still means what he’d told Steve on their way to Siberia. He still isn’t sure that he was worth all the trouble he caused. He'd torn the Avengers apart. Sure, most people blamed the Accords, but they didn’t know that while Tony Stark had been trying to apprehend Steve for breaking them, Steve had been fighting to protect Bucky.

In the end, the Accords were just a distraction. The true war was fought between three people and over a grief so consuming that Bucky doesn’t expect to ever be forgiven for what he took from Tony.

He can still hear Tony's mother's voice as she called for her husband. He can still see and feel the sting of recognition as Howard Stark recognized Bucky from their youth just before he beat him to death.

“Buck?” Steve can see him wallowing.

He looks up and gives him a pained grimace.

“What if he's told her about me? What if she hates me? I killed his parents Steve, for Hydra. Somebody killed her parents for Hydra too. She must hate me now. There's no way she doesn't.” Bucky agonizes over the reality that you and Tony Stark are similar in at least this one very important way.

“So, call her and find out.” Steve urges him. “I know you love her. So, tell her. She’s the only one who doesn’t know.”

“What if she doesn’t want to hear it? She left for a reason.”

“She was hurt. Time heals wounds, Buck.”

“Not all of them.” Bucky retorts.

Steve considers his best friend, watching his internal struggle.

“I know you think you hid it well, but I watched you fall hard and fast. In all my years of watching you date dame after dame after dame after dame-"

“Alright,” Bucky says, cutting him off. “I get it, I’ve gone around with a good number of dames. Can we move on please? This isn’t how you tried to convince her to stay is it? Because I can see why it didn’t work.”

Steve smiles, then laughs lightly at Bucky's teasing. “My point is, she's different. And if you let her go without even attempting to fight for her, then you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. And I hate to break it to you pal, you and me? We're not exactly getting any older.”

Bucky finally looks at the last name on the phone, staring at Vision's name with his finger hovering over the soft green call button. If he presses it, he could speak with you. One call…one little question…that’s all it could take.

He swallows hard and presses the soft green button.

The phone, as old as it is, doesn't seem to recognize the pressed button and for a moment Bucky is both disappointed and grateful that fate seems to have intervened. But then the display changes and begins to count in seconds as the small phone vibrates with every ring.

Fear grips Bucky's heart as he presses the phone to his ear.

It rings and rings.

Bucky's breathing becomes shallow as he waits.

It rings and rings.

Perhaps Vision won't answer?

The ringing suddenly stops, and Bucky waits for Vision's smooth and accented greeting. What he gets instead is your voice, like the choir of angels, your even tone fills his ear and makes his heart swell.

“Hello? Steve?” You say.

Bucky sits frozen his face a mixture of relief and pain as he listens to you speak. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice and it’s like a balm for his wounded heart.

“Steve? Can you hear me?” You ask since he won’t speak. “Vis forgot his phone in the kitchen. Steve?”

“What's the matter?” Asks a male voice. It's so clear and loud that the person speaking would have to be very close to you for Bucky to hear him this clearly.

“Baby, can you go get Vis? He's probably down in Tony's den.” You speak with easy affection to this male voice.

Bucky narrows his eyes, fighting the stab of pain that suddenly clutches his chest, squeezing his heart until it can no longer possibly beat.

His worst fear is realized. You’ve moved on. You are with someone else now and though he doesn't know what the bastard looks like, just the sound of his voice, deep and resonant paints an intimidating picture. But it doesn’t matter what he looks like. Any other man's arms around you is blasphemy.

Instantly Bucky regrets letting you stay away this long. But if you're happy? Shouldn’t he leave you be?

Bucky looks up at Steve with his eyes full of despair. Steve shifts closer to him.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s stomach suddenly twists as Steve speaks, knowing that you'll hear the question and realize that it isn’t Steve on the phone but him. Shock replaces his pain as your side of the line goes silent.

Suddenly, you speak.

“Bucky?” You ask, your voice so hesitant, so unsure that the sound of it feels like needles on Bucky's heart. “Bucky is that you?”

Bucky holds the phone more tightly to his ear, relishing in the beauty that is your voice.

“Bucky?” You ask again, this time your voice breaks, emotion getting the best of you as you think about how close and yet how far away the two of you are in this moment. “Bucky, please say something."

Bucky opens his mouth, his whole body aching at the pain in your voice. But what can he say? He has so much to say and he doesn’t know where to begin. He has so much to make amends for that he doesn’t know what mistake he should start with. Should he start with Kara since she was what drove you away? Should he explain what happened to him? Should he explain why he pushed you away? Will you let him finish? This is not a conversation to have over the phone.

He wants to look at you. To be able to touch you. To hold you when you inevitably cry or try to get away.

So instead of saying something, he says nothing.

“Bucky…just tell me to come home and I’ll come home. I'll…” You sob, and Bucky looks down at the floor, crushing the phone to his ear so hard he might break it. The agony that rips through him at the sound of your sorrow is unbearable.

“I'll come home.” You finish.

Bucky struggles and finally, swallows, clearing his throat to speak when the male voice returns.

“Vision is on his way, he said he-Y/N?!” There's shock and worry as the male seems to get a look at you and Bucky can only wonder what pain he’s caused you now to elicit such a strong reaction.

“Y/N, what's the matter? Did something happen to Captain America?” Bucky can hear the hero worship in the guy's voice—surprise, surprise, a Captain America fan—but he can also hear the sincerity in this man’s worry for you.

“Babe, please tell me what's wrong so that I can make it better.” Bucky can hear you sob.

“Allen,” You say, slightly annoyed but still crying and he can almost picture you pushing the man away to give you some space.

Bucky can't listen anymore. He pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at the small screen. Less than five minutes. That’s how long he’s had you on the phone and you’re already in tears.

“Bucky?” Your voice asks one final time, searching for him. Then the phone hangs up. Bucky stares at the blinking screen before he slowly closes it and holds it out to Steve.

“What happened?” Steve asks, concern and suspense riddles his expression as he takes the phone back.

Bucky can’t speak. He sits back, staring at the phone in Steve's hand as he realizes that one more time he’s let you slip through his fingers.

With a frown, Steve gets to his feet, flips the phone open, and walks into his kitchen.

Bucky can see him talking on the phone but he’s not hearing anything but the sound of your sobbing, echoing in his ears.

“What the hell did I just do?” He asks himself.

You have a life with Tony. A new life. A good one it sounds like. A life with some guy named Allen who, despite the intense hatred that Bucky feels for him, seems to care about you very much. And how could he not? Anyone who meets you would instantly fall in love with you.

Bucky zones out, lost in a different kind of haze of his own making as he tries to comprehend what just happened. He fucked up again, that’s what happened.

Steve eventually moves back into the room, the phone held in his hand. He stops opposite Bucky, staring down at his best friend with an unreadable expression.

Bucky sits up, waiting with bated breath for the pain to hit.

“She didn't hang up on you. Vision answered when I called back, and it looks like her boyfriend was the one who hung the phone up when he realized you were the one on the phone.” Steve puts the phone on the table and moves to sit back down.

Bucky feels relief to know you aren’t the one who hung up the phone, but it comes with pain at the news that you have a boyfriend.

“I could hear them fighting when I was talking to Vision. From what I could make out and from what Vision told me, she knows Buck. About you and Hydra and Tony…she knows all of it.” Steve watches his friend carefully as the fears he'd just been expressing come true.

“She's known for about a month and it…it doesn’t sound like she cares, Buck. Vision said that it seems, to him, like she's been waiting. He’s not sure exactly for what but he thinks she's waiting for you.” Curiosity getting the better of him, Steve leans forward. “What did she say to you?”

Bucky's stomach has bottomed out as panic grips his heart.

You know. You know all about his dark and tainted past. You know about Tony's parents and you still said what you said? Could it really be possible that an angel like you exists? Someone willing to look past his darkest days and see some good in him?

Bucky…just tell me to come home and I’ll come home.

That’s what you’d said. Could it really be that easy? And those sobs were they for him and not because of him?

Steve sighs. “Look, I don't know what you’re going to do but I’m here until midnight. If you want to call her again, I’ll be here. Just ask.”

Steve gets up and walks down the hall into his bedroom leaving Bucky to slump on his couch.

A few minutes later, Steve moves back down the hallway. “Hey, Buck, I’m not going to need any of these clothes anymore. Do you want any of it or should I just-" Steve pauses as he looks at his empty living room, the phone still on the coffee table. He peeks into the kitchen but finds no one in his now empty apartment.

He looks to the front door and finds it has been left slightly ajar as if someone had been in too much of a rush to close it properly. “Bucky?”

@bionic-buckyb @mdgrdians @ulired @biawol @markusstraya @queenof-wakanda @slice-of-thunder @clockworkherondale @shonaldo @lilulo-12 @dsakita @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @coldfacedwarf @zoey-odinson-stark @animegirlgeeky @paetonsfandom @caramelsunrise @until-theend-oftheline @a-n-gela @dirtylittlelamb @moonlessnight14 @el-dibidibidorado1 @marymooonlastrage @calliope-musings @buckybarnes4lyfe @lexie10123 @wantingtobekorra @unadulteredscreams @sunflower-sunlight-sunset @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @auraliqhts @bucky-in-wonderland @marydragneell @beezyg @peterfromtheavengers @kaylaphantomhive @caramelizedmen @bexboo616 @hayleymoondance @princess-of-idgaf @quiessilva-meriff @marvelellie @moonstruckhargrove @fuckmestan @wandererheart11 @mermaidxatxheart @lost-in-translating @dont-stop-keep-walking @lemondropirwin @pancakefancake @k-n-e @spacemarkimoo @aireka-frnc @multifandom-reallyamess

592 notes · View notes

welcome-to-my-daydreams · 6 years ago

Text

Man in the Storm 17

Summary: It’s rut season at the compound. Omega Reader plans to ride it out alone, locked in her room away from any unwanted Alphas. But she finds that to be a lot easier said than done when the team’s strongest Alpha pays a visit.

Pairings: Alpha!Thor x Omega!Reader

Type: Series (A/B/O Dynamics)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,476

A/N: “I don’t need therapy, I’ve got you guys!”

Part 16, Part 18

Masterlist

The second month was easier. But only because you swapped sadness with annoyance. You had decided that though you loved the stupid Alpha, you wouldn’t mind giving him a swift kick in the ass when he finally returned. If he finally returned, of course.

It was getting ridiculous now. 2 months and not a single sign. Not a rumble of thunder, not a drop of rain. You realised you wouldn’t even know if he had died somewhere in this war he was fighting.

You better not die without letting me know about it, Alpha. You cursed as you looked up into the clear sky above you.

“Hey! No breaks until we hit the 10 minute mark. You know the drill!” Captain Rogers commanded as he jogged past you, tapping you on the shoulder and waving you to keep up with him.

You rolled your eyes and picked up where you left off, running along the track on the field.

“I thought the whole point of this training session was to keep you distracted?” Steve asked when you finally caught up to him. He was practically skipping, barely breaking a sweat so that you’d be able to run side by side.

Everything you did lately was to keep you distracted. You kept as busy as possible, taking missions and assignments when you could. Last week you were in Korea with Tony and Maria and before that you had been down in Wakanda with Steve and Sam for a few weeks and before that you joined Nat and Clint in Rio.

You had already filled your field work quota for the month and Tony has insisted that you take some leave. Which is exactly why you were here at the compound running with Steve, rather than with Bucky, Sam and Sharon on the latest mission.

“Well that was the idea. But my mind always finds a way to drift.” You admitted out loud. “And if I have to be honest Cap, you’re not very good at this.” You poked at him with a smile.

Steve laughed, “Well, in my experience, things don’t go away by avoiding them.” He glanced over at you. “Maybe talking about it is the way to go.”

You thought about it. He was probably right. He always was. It’s true that you had been avoiding the idea of opening up to anyone, but the truth is you were avoiding even opening up to yourself. You would try to go through the motions, to think logically about all the possibilities about your current situation. But then you’d feel overwhelmed and just stop. Always telling yourself you’d save it for another day.

“You want to be my therapist now too Rogers?” You joked, trying to deflect from the conversation Steve was trying to start. He didn't answer though, only giving you a look that reminded you of your dad.

You took a deep breath, and finally gave in.

“I just wonder a lot of things. All the time.” You started. “Sometimes I think about what I would do if he doesn’t come back. How I’d move on with my life. Other times I think about what will happen if he does come back. How exactly are we going to make this work? Will I have to leave earth? Do I want to leave earth?” You asked rhetorically. “And then at the end of it all I just wonder if he’s even thinking of me. You know? Is he wondering the same things? Does he have a plan?”

Steve watched as you wrestled with your own thoughts. He stopped running and signalled for you to as well. “You know” he spoke up as the two of you continued along the track at a walking pace. “When I woke up, after they found me in that ice. The only thing I could think of for months was Peggy.” You turned to look at him in surprise. Steve rarely ever spoke of Peggy Carter.

“I felt constant sense of guilt. About how my death must have affected her, about how she was able to get on in life. Was there anything I could have done?” He turned to look at you. “I know she did amazing things. She got married, had a family, started SHIELD. But despite all of her accomplishments, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about this whole other life we could have lived together. If I hadn’t...” There was a sense of sadness in his voice now as he trailed off.

“Steve...don’t. Don't put that on yourself.” You reached out to place your hand on the Alpha’s shoulder. He gave you a half smile, “The point is (y/n), whatever happens, your life will continue on and you will be fine. I know you will. But, don’t ever think that he isn’t up there thinking about you, wishing things could be different.”

Steve’s words hit you harder than you had expected they would and you found yourself just standing there. Repeating them in your mind.

“And besides.” Steve continued. “Thor isn’t dead or frozen in a block of ice. He’s up there, alive and well.” He smiled. “You still have the chance to decide your future. Together.”

After a long pause you gave the Alpha a big hug. Thanking him for the talk before you continued on with your run. Feeling a little more optimistic than before.

A few days later you found yourself in the back of one of Tony’s town cars, pulling up to the front entrance of the Stark Tower in Manhattan. It had been a while since you had been to the city and you were here today at your own insistence.

Tony still had you on leave from missions, but you were dying of boredom at the compound. You had harassed Stark enough to convince him into finding you a days worth of work helping Pepper out at Stark Industries.

It couldn’t have come a better time either. Not only were you able to get away from the current heat season of the compound, but the energy of the city was like a detox for you.

The driver opened the door for you and you thanked him kindly before heading inside. You had been given the direct access key to the private elevator and headed straight up to meet with Pepper.

When you reached the floor of her office you were hit with an almost intoxicating scent of rose oil and lemons.

Damn. You thought to yourself as you made your way down the hall.

Pepper was an Omega, but the kind of Omega that didn’t really live life as if she were an Omega. She was CEO of Stark Industries and lived at the tower full time, only visiting the compound on special occasions and Tony would have to travel into the city to see her. Which he did, happily and often. And despite not living at the compound, the pack has always considered her as their matriarch.

Her scent dominated the office space and you could feel her presence everywhere. It was incredibly intoxicating, to see an Omega in a position of power like this. It was as if she were a Queen and Stark Industries was her Queendom.

When you made it to the waiting area of Pepper’s office you were greeted by her assistant who lead you through the doors and asked you wait. She offered you various teas and coffees which you declined, only to immediately regret not getting that delicious caramel latte she mentioned.

“(y/n)!” Pepper called your name after only a few minutes. “It’s so good to see you” She said happily, bringing you in to a hug. “Pepper!” you smiled, “Thank you so much for asking me to come down here today.” you greeted back.

“Oh of course.” She said as she set her laptop down on her desk, along with some notebooks. “It’s so nice to have someone from the pack down at the tower for a change.” She smiled again as she sat down in her big leather chair. “So, how have you been?”

The two of you chatted for a while. Catching up on pack gossip and goings on. You made an effort not to talk about your Thor dilemma and in turn Pepper did not pry. Which worked out better for you as the whole purpose of going into the city for the day was to get away from your life at the compound.

“So, Tony tells me you’re pretty good with computers and that you used to work in the technical department, is that right?” She asked, getting right down to business.

“Oh, uh, yes. I studied computer programming at university.” You answered, sitting up straighter than before. Suddenly feeling like you were in an interview.

“I enjoyed it for a while, but then I realised it was much more fun to play with the toys that we made with those programs.” You winked.

Pepper laughed as well and shook her head. “You sound just like Tony.”

It turned out that the work Pepper needed help with wasn’t all that difficult. It was definitely something that an intern could do, but you had begged Tony to find you something to do and...he did.

She needed your help with installing an encrypted storage program on her personal server where she would store her most important files. She was still storing some high high priority files in a safe in her office.

“I can’t be running one of the most technologically advanced companies in the world and still be working with paper!” She told you as she explained the task at hand.

It was an easy mornings work. Within an hour you had the program up and running and spent the rest of the morning uploading the important files into the new system. After a while you needed a break and took a turn around Pepper’s office. First taking a look at the beautiful view from her giant windows, then trailing off to gaze at the wall of photos and diplomas by her desk.

You stopped at a lovely photo of Pepper and Tony. You could tell it was before they had bonded by the missing mark on her neck. He was holding her from behind with his arms draped around her waist and they were both laughing hysterically at something.

Your fawning must have been palpable, because Pepper looked up from her work and chuckled. “Hmm.” She smiled. “That was Happy’s birthday party 8 years ago. I can’t believe how young we look.”

“You two are perfect together” You said, looking back at the photo before taking a seat in front of Pepper’s desk.

“Perfect?” She scoffed. “Hardly so.”

You laughed, “Well I just mean you’ve been together for so long. You must have such a strong connection and trust. Especially for him to give you Stark Industries”. You remarked, almost naïvely.

Pepper nodded, not looking up from her work. “I guess you could put it that way.” She said with uncertainty. “What do you mean?” You asked, slightly confused.

Pepper looked up from her computer and smiled, “I love Tony, I really do. But that man is a disaster.” She said shaking her head in amusement. You laughed at the statement, eager to hear her reasoning.

“He didn’t give me Stark Industries. I took it from him because he was running it into the ground.” She continued. Setting her laptop aside and getting comfortable in her seat, more than willing to take a break from the days work.

“When Tony decided that he was Iron Man, he made it his life’s duty. He dropped everything else in his life to pursue it. And I mean Everything.” She said, enunciating with hand gestures. “I was only his assistant at the time, but once he started missing every meeting and every day of work I just had to take over.” she said while shaking her head as if she was still annoyed at how it all went down. “It was like his sole responsibility in life was to save the world!”

You laughed. It turned out that not much had changed between now and then when it came to Tony Stark.

“Well, hopefully he realises how lucky he’s been to have you by his side throughout all this.” You said. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

Pepper nodded. “ Yes, I think he does now. Thank God” she said with a smile. “But there were a few years in between when I couldn't handle it anymore and I left. Him and all this.” She said looking around the room.

“Really?” you gasped. You had always seen Pepper and Tony as the perfect couple. The glue that held everything together. You could never imagine picturing them apart from one another.

“So what made you go back?” you asked, hoping you weren’t overstepping.

“Because I love him.” she admitted, leaning further back in her chair. “I love him and being without him just didn't feel right.” she shrugged her shoulders. “I was never going to separate him from his duty to the Avengers or to the world. That is all part of the Tony Stark package.” she paused for a moment, looking back at the photo on the wall. “I had to decide whether being with him was worth putting up with all of it. And for me, it was.” She smiled.

“And now here we are, running our little empire together. He’ll never admit it, but he knows that he needs me to keep this place afloat.” She said matter of factly.

“A king cannot survive without a queen by his side.”

As some of Thor’s very first words to you came to the forefront of your mind, you crossed your arms over your chest. Suddenly feeling very exposed.

You sat there in silence for a moment as a whirlwind of thoughts entered your mind. The more you thought about it the more you realised it. Thor wasn’t all that much different from Tony. A least, not when it came to his duty. The only difference between them being that Thor already knew he wanted someone by his side. And that person as it turned out, was you.

You thought for a moment about all the sacrifices and compromises Pepper must have made when she decided to stay by Tony’s side. Accepting the fact that she would always come second to her Alpha’s sense of duty. You then thought about the other couples in your pack. Clint and his wife certainly had a complex arrangement and you imagined that Sharon had to come to terms with Steve’s hardened sense of duty many years ago. Suddenly, Bucky’s choice in such a docile Omega made sense to you in the grand scheme of things.

“(y/n), are you ok?” Pepper said, waving her hand in front of your face.

You shook yourself out of your haze. “Sorry, I uh...I just starting thinking about how complicated everything gets. No one we know really has a normal realtionship, do they?” you asked her.

“In a pack like ours (y/n) there is no such thing as “normal” relationships.” She answered with a smirk. “With those Alphas? Are you kidding me?” She said, before you both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Now, enough talk about Alpha’s and relationships, let’s go to for lunch” The Omega suggested as she got up from her desk and grabbed her purse

@usetheforce3434 @ourdreamsrealized @oknstark @jaegers-and-kaijus @alittlehoneybear @fundaymonday @iamwarrenspeace @lumelgy @steggy4ever @devilsbaby6 @dani-si @dreamingaboutthewonderland @yoursupernatural @maebeltranlove @thisisnotseriousbussiness @wintersire @talknerdytome25 @coffeeandmistakes @mellytonellysstuff @thewalkingmombie @naturalistamisslyn @fxnrisulv @leashab @illbewendyyoubepeter @isislockett @crowleyshellkitten @sammanthamariee @bookshelvesandteacups@marveloussssworld @lemonchapstick @randomlove15 @tinyfistwarrior@bodhi-black @mermaid099 @jeffersonstarships2099 @brooke-supernatural16 @unic0rns-taking-0ver-th3-w0rld @lovely-geek@greeneyedgal20 @blxcksoulsanddxrkflowers @spideysz @whyugottabsorude @i-think-i-am-adorable @lexie-mo @pinkgalaxyskull @palelightgiver @lokisgoldengoddess @bandstripper @memyselfandmaddox @assassin-inthe-scoutregiment @the-goddess-of-mischief @congurl @chaotic-neutral-spider @imjustalittlebean @rishlo @sunigyrl @supernaturalpotternerd @sonarsyndor @sea040561 @justcallmecinammon @inumorph @darkkitty @thewayilookatbacon @jumpingmanatee @pocmarvelworks @lovelyangelofasgard @ktjnn @debiwolft @milllionthingsihaventdone @occasionalfics @jmberries @badassbaker @vgurl18 @samanthasmileys @girlwhoisfearless @loverofthor @sthorgestavenger @loverofthor @slightlysoftgrunge @earinafae

#thor x reader #thor odinson #thor of asgard #alpha thor #omega reader #alpha thor x omega reader #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #reader insert #x reader

1K notes · View notes

wonderlandmind4 · 6 years ago

Text

Delicate Stages Drabbles: Twelve

The One With the Feelings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Drabbles following Delicate Stages. Looking into the life of Bucky and Ana.

Warnings: Language. Sadness (because someone misses people) fluff.

Words: 2.3k

A/N: These drabbles are starting to go somewhere now, catching up with the timeline….I’m posting drabbles for Delicate Stages here! (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first)

The past several months has been a mixture of calm, lazy days, and frantic, sad ones. The frantic one comes with Ana nearly pulling her hair out because wedding planning is a dumb feat. Why can’t see just have a simple one, a small one with just a handful of important people in their lives as they exchange vows.

“We really appreciate it, Tony, honestly,” Ana sighs on day while on the phone. “But we don’t need a venue that…extravagant. We just want to it keep it rather simple.”

Tony finally relents but insists that he pay for the entire wedding. Ana playfully argues with him, having come to an agreement that she at least pay for the deposit on a place. However, their conversation sends Ana into an emotion filled fit at one point, because a glaring fact just hit her in the face.

The lights in their apartment begin to flicker, and things begin to shake, trembling along with Ana’s own hands. She doesn’t try to rein it in, but she ends up grabbing the box the energy rings are in and quickly shoves them on. She twists them, and immediately, the lights steady.

She ends up taking a walk, coming to a stop by the lake. She finds rocks and begins chucking them are far and as hard as hard as she can. They land in the water with a satisfying splash, and she makes a game out of it; how far can she out throw the others.

Ana doesn’t know how long she stands there, tossing rocks as her heart clenches with stinging, longing sadness. It’s not like she completely forgot about it, the thought being a forefront in her mind since Bucky asked her to marry him. But now, now she has to acknowledge it aloud.

“I knew we should’ve set up a punching bag in the living room,” Bucky’s voice comes from behind her, carrying in the wind.

Ana drops the rock in her hand. She can feel him coming closer, as if he’s reaching out his hand to comfort her.

“Don’t,” She warns, “I have the rings on.”

When Bucky is next to her, he picks up the rock she dropped. He pulls his arm back, then throws it as hard as he can. It takes a while for them to hear a faint splash. Ana glares out over the lake. Damn super strength.

“Annie,” He whispers. A gentle sound that reassures her that she isn’t alone.

She twists the rings off. “It’s not that I forgot or anything,” She begins, gasping in a breath. “But all this planning, all this happiness, it just makes the fact glaringly obvious.”

Bucky brushes her hair off her shoulder, tenderly swiping his thumb across her collarbone. It breaks her. She nearly collapses against his chest, pressing her face in his shirt, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. She cries. She sobs as he holds her just as tight.

“I just wish,” She heaves, “I- I wish they were here, Bucky. All of them. I-I…who…I can’t-“

Soothing coos sounds from above her, Bucky trying his best to calm her breathing. She feels him press his lips to the top of her head, and she tries to listen to the musical beating of his heart.

“I’m suppose to plan this with my mother. I’m supposed to be excited with my brother, ask him to be a man of honor. I-I’m supposed to have my father walk me down the aisle. But-…but…”

Her body shakes with more sobs. “I can’t-can’t share any-any of it w-with them.” Abruptly she pulls away, hastily wiping her tears away. Bucky looks baffled for a moment, before his eyes soften.

“Ana-“

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I, sorry. This is happy, I should be happy and excited, and I am because I get to marry you. Fuck, babe, I’m sorry about this, I-“

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky cups the sides of her jaws. “Don’t do that, don’t hide your sadness behind that wall. It’s okay, baby. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Just cry it out, be sad, it’s alright to miss them like this.”

Ana falls against his chest once more. She allows herself to cry, to release all the emotions of missing her family for this important even in her life to come out. Bucky stands here with her for god knows how long, rubbing his fingers up and down her spine. Softly humming familiar tunes under his breath and dropping random kisses along her head.

Later, once they’re back in their apartment, cuddling up on the couch with her head in Bucky’s lap, she lets his own feelings wash over her. Bucky is remitting comfort, love, support. His calm relaxed breathing lulls her into a daze, so she pulls his left hand from her hair and kisses each knuckle. She feels a little better now, being able to release everything.

“They would love you,” She tells him quietly, shifting so she’s looking up at him.

Bucky pulls his gaze away from the TV, smiling softly down at her. “As I would love them, too.”

“Bucky,” Ana breathes out, now kissing his palm. “I’m going to ask Tony if he would walk me down the aisle.”

“I think he’d take that as the highest, honor, Darling.”

They fall silent for a while. Ana ends up laughing eventually as they watch a program. Almost two hours pass before someone speaks again, and when they do, it’s with a nervous touch.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something, Ana,” Bucky starts, shifting so Ana can sit up. “Do you…would you want to keep your last name? I will accept yours like your father did with your mother.”

If Ana wasn’t already engaged, she’d asked Bucky to marry her. She places her hand over her heart, simply because she’s so incredibly touched and a whole different wave of emotions curls through her.

“I love you.” She states simply, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek. “I really am so touched you would even ask that, Bucky. You’re wonderful. But, I’m really looking forward to taking your own name, if that’s alright. We can start our own family.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. “Our own family, as in…with me?”

“Nah, I was thinking of finding M’Baku and-“ Ana breaks out, laughing brightly. “Of course, with you, silly! We can talk about that later, although the way you’re turning white tells me diff-“

“No! No!” He says frantically, grabbing her face and kisses her sloppily. “Yes, I mean. We can start our own family.”

Ana scrunches her nose and tugs his hair as she wipes off the wet kiss from the corner of her mouth. “Besides,” She continues, going back to the name change. “I think Annie Barnes has a nice ring to it.”

When Bucky pulls her in again, it’s softer, gentler. “If we didn’t agree to that whole abstinence thing for the wedding, I’d start making a family right now.”

“That’s a stupid arrangement, let’s go!”

Ana straddles him on the couch as he laughs brightly into her mouth.

***

The whole ‘no sex before a wedding’ agreement took affect the month before. Considering they wanted it to be more special the night of, however Bucky thought it was going to be much more difficult than it is. Some days it was, others it wasn’t. Like the four days when Ana was sick with a nasty cold, and it was filled with Bucky making her soup and bringing her back medicine from the Healers and wrapping her up in fuzzy blankets.

It was hard when Ana found that black dress Bucky had mentioned that got him hot and bothered. She put it on, like the little minx she is, claiming she would wear it for the rehearsal dinner. He almost broke, but then Ana’s phone rang, and she chatted on the phone with Wanda for two hours.

Then they flew to New York, checking out a venue that Ana insisted they have. It’s the same place her parents got married, and Pepper was able to pull some strings, setting the date for their wedding along with it. Ana didn’t full on cry later that night, but she did shed some tears and all she wanted to do was snuggle up next to him.

The plans were falling together, and Bucky was becoming more nervous with each passing day. He was going to marry the love of his life, his girl he had given his heart too. On some nights, he would sneak away from her, leave her a note, and meet Steve outside of Tony’s place they were staying in.

He thought it strange they weren’t staying in the compound like last time, until Steve told him why. So, maybe that’s why Bucky is feel extra frustrated at this very moment, just days before their wedding. Steve had convinced him to go over to Sam’s new apartment in the city, so they could talk about it.

Bucky forces a slow, but hard breath through his nose, trying not to knock his fist up side anyone’s head. He keeps his arms crossed tightly across his chest, closing his eyes to block out the tense faces around him. He thinks, considers, the options they have in front of them, then quickly comes up with a solution. One he does not like.

“So,” He speaks up, breaking the long silence, heavy with tension. “Ana has absolutely no idea this has been going on? For the past three months. She has no idea that you’re all at each other’s throats because no one can agree on those goddamn Accords. Ana has no inkling of the Avengers, the people she considers family, are falling apart, and if said Avenger members refuse to sign, they will be considered criminals? Is that correct?”

Christ, he thought when they all fought before in Germany nearly two years ago that that was a shit show. Somehow this feels worse. Somehow, this is worse.

“We get it, Barnes,” Natasha snips from her place on the couch, but there’s a teasing twitch to her mouth. “We haven’t told her, when we should have.”

“Which is why,” Tony cuts in sharply, “we are considering telling her now.”

Bucky drops his arms in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose. “You want to tell her two days before our wedding?”

Sam snorts as a collective response. He gets it.

“What other choice do we have?” Steve questions, sounding defeated. Regretful.

Bucky eyes his friend. There’s a subtle twitch of his jaw, grinding his teeth. It’s always been a sign of Steve’s anger being held at bay. His eyes are hard, determined not to back down from his decision, from what he thinks is the right thing.

“You don’t tell Ana.” Bucky states firmly. “That’s what you’re all going to do, because none of you will add any stress to her. She’s happy, she’s excited, she’s…well. She has been extremely calm about the wedding for the past two weeks. You will not inform her of any of this, the Accords, the dumbass riff between you all, because then that’s all she will focus on.”

He shakes his head in frustration, wishing they hadn’t told him either. “She’ll want to fix everything, and as much as it sucks to hear, that is not her burden.”

“We know, Buck,” Steve assures quietly.

“Then we just don’t tell her at all?” Clint asks, his elbow resting on Natasha’s shoulders. “That doesn’t seem like a wise choice either.”

“Oh, you’ll tell her, because the longer she doesn’t know, the angrier she’ll be,” Bucky counters. “But after the wedding.” He pauses, considering something. He smirks. “Well, maybe an extra day after.”

Tony visibly blanches, rolling his eyes. “Great plan, genius. Good thing Ana won’t be able to feel the tension here. She’ll know something is up instantly.”

Shrugging, Bucky says, “Then rein it in. Can’t you all just ignore this shit for the sake of, not even for me, but for Ana? She just wants to be happy and celebrate with the people she loves. We both do. There’s going to be some repercussions of hiding it, but I’m asking you all as a favor. Please.”

Wanda, who has been standing quietly by the large window of the living room, finally speaks up. “Of course, Bucky. We just want to see you both happy. You both deserve it.”

The softness of her tone makes him walk over to her. While he was living in the compound with them during the Sessions, he had grown quiet a soft spot for the young woman. He wraps his left arm around her shoulders in a tight side hug.

“Thank you,” He expresses softly. He lifts his eyes to the rest of his friends. “I know it isn’t the greatest idea, but I really appreciate it.”

The halfhearted smiles he gets is enough for him. He nods once, then abruptly changes the subject. Bucky steps away from Wanda but grips her elbow and drags her over to Natasha.

“Now, Ana woke up an hour ago. She demanded that if I was going to have a bachelor night, which was not the case,” He gives a hard look to Steve who just shrugs. “She demanded both of you ladies to meet with her and Pepper at their house,” He tells them, now leading them towards another door. “Something about champagne and orange juice?”

“Mimosa’s, at this hour?” Natasha questions curiously. “It’s eleven at night.”

“Don’t question my bride, Natalia,” He responds flatly. He earns a sharp jab of his elbow in his ribs at her birth name.

“Just because you fully remember training me doesn’t mean you can call me by that name, Barnes.”

Wanda giggles next to them.

Bucky just rolls his eyes, fighting back a smug smile. He watches them go, chatting about picking up Sharon as well. Once they shut the door behind them, he turns back around and sighs, leaning against the door. It’s quiet, the room filled with tension for several moments. Then Tony breaks it.

“Well, if she thinks you’re having a bachelor night. Then lets make it happen!”

****************************************************

Drabbles Eleven Drabbles Thirteen

Tags: @kat-lives @justreadingfics @watchoutforfrostbite @stressedasalways

35 notes · View notes

omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 6 years ago

Text

In Over Your Head (Peter Parker X Reader)

Summary: It’s been two weeks since training day with the team, it went well and the team was incredibly impressed with your power and skill. So on one of your first nights off, you decide to do some Netflix watching and junk food snacking, but Peter has other plans for you that just might involve jumping off buildings, nighttime paint ball, meeting his quirky friends, and lots of blushing. During this, you begin to realize how fast and hard your falling for this boy, are you in over your head?

Author’s Note: Soooooooo all my writing for this part got deleted, there were tears, yelling, some cursing, but I managed to rehash some ideas and do a better version, I mean if it got deleted it must have happened for a reason, so... I hope you guys like it as always and enjoy! It’s really long, I’m sorry about that

Warnings: Teasing Avengers, Tony being a dad, NERVOUS! PETER!, fluffity fluff fluff fluff, so much blushing you guys, my heart can’t take the cute, sexual references probably, I mean it’s me, mild swearing, and hanging off a building, possibly a near death experience.

FC: Elle Fanning

It’s been two weeks since training day, which went by smoothly, smoother than you expected, with a few bumps and bruises given by Natasha when the two of you sparred together. But she insisted that she went easy on you, you know that’s bullshit, she doesn’t underestimate you at all and treats you just the same as the rest of the team instead of some kid. You like it, you feel like her equal rather than someone she looks down to. It’s odd, this affection and companionship you’re experiencing in only the span of a week living in the tower. All these sweet feelings warming your insides like a match that’s been set aflame in the pit of your stomach, burning brighter whenever you see him.

Needless to say, it’s already been the best two weeks of your life.

That day consisted of tossing around Clint on the mat, listening to Tony go on about how much he already likes you more than the rest of the team, Steve and Bucky cheering you when you kicked Sam’s ass during the kick boxing portion, Wanda giving you the well-done-little-sister nod of approval, and teaching Bruce street fighting that he picked up surprisingly well for someone holed up in the lab most of the time. A few training days have occurred since then, and you’ve grown a lot during those, so, being given your first free time in almost a week, you decide to hunker down with Netflix and junk food.

You take all you can from the kitchen cabinets and hug all the food close to your chest, attempting to walk back to your room.

“Need help there, little Wanda?” Steve asks, suddenly beside you, you glare at the nickname but nod, handing him a few of the bags of chips from him to carry. You’ve become a lot closer to the rest of the team, especially Natasha, who, like Wanda, has become a bit of a big sister figure to you.

“I don’t know why you guys are so keen on calling me that,” you shake your head.

“Cause you’re basically her!” Clint yells from the sitting room, mouth full of buttered popcorn. Natasha hits him in the chest for that.

“They’re just teasing, (y/n), pay no mind to them,” Natasha assures you with a small wink. “He’s just mad because you’ve handed his ass to him during our last few training days.”

“I’ve let her do that,” Clint grumbles under his breath.

“Then why do I specifically remember hearing you say, ‘Just because your a kid, does not mean I’m going to easy on you’?” Captain looks back at Clint, raising his eyebrows.

“How dare you use my own words against me,” Clint gasps, stuffing another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Then don’t say the words in the first place,” Natasha hits him again.

“TONY!” Clint yells with his mouth full so it comes out a lot more garbled than he intended. “Natasha keeps hitting me!”

“NATASHA!” Tony yells back within a moment’s notice. “Stop hitting, Legolas! You know he’s sensitive!”

“I can vouch for that statement,” you raise your hand, remembering when you flipped him over your shoulder the other day and his reaction afterward. Natasha grins at that.

You get into your room, thank Cap, and shut the door with your hip. You strip out of your athletic clothes and slip on a simple tee-shirt and dark, gray shorts. Then you plop down on your bed, cue up Netflix on your new laptop, prepare for a relaxing night in, and begin munching on food, barely five minutes into the show you’re delved into before hearing a series of faint knocks on your door.

“It’s open!” you yell, mouth full of candies, about to resume your show when you see who’s in the doorway.

“Oh! Peter, hi!” you say, too excited to see him, even if you’ve missed his presence in the tower all day while he’s been at school, you try to play it down. “What’s up?” you attempt to lean casually into your pillows, but end up falling off the side of the bed instead.

Real smooth, (y/n), real fucking smooth...

He catches you quickly before you can hit the ground, his arm suddenly wrapped around your bare waist and your shirt lifted, pulling you into a standing position. His warm skin eliciting goosebumps to line up your arms and a small, sharp intake of breath to escape your lips. Now would be a great time to know what this boy is thinking.

“I guess you could say I fell for you, huh?” you look up at him, smiling with flushed cheeks.

“If only it were that easy,” he returns your smile, eyes crinkling at the edges.

You try to laugh as your face feels like it’s engulfed in red, hot flames, eventually meeting his eyes, “But, damn, you have some fast reflexes.”

His touch lingers on your waist, you look to his hand and back to him with a flustered smile, “Uh... thank you. For catching me,” you say after a pause.

You hear him gulp audibly, your smile widening when he flushes at the sight of his warm hand on your hip. You admire his casual, black shirt and jeans, wondering how such a simple outfit could make you feel so many complicated things. He removes his hand from your side sheepishly, avoiding your eyes. “No- no problem, I was the one that scared you in the first place... it was the least I could do,” he smiles and you return it ruefully.

“So, what’d you come in here for?” you scrutinize him curiously.

He laughs softly and nervously, filling the room with the sweet sound, bringing back those damned butterflies again, “To... uh... inviteyoutocomeplaypaintballwithmeandmyfriends.”

You furrow your brow, “Come again?”

“I wanted to... to invite you to come play paintball with my friends and me,” he says hesitantly, as if you’d say no to that face. He shakes his head with a sigh, “You don’t have to go, though, I understand if you have something better to do.”

“What is paintball?” you raise an eyebrow.

“You don’t know what paint-balling is?” he asks with wide eyes, then softens when he sees the frown on your lips. “It’s very fun, you have these guns-”

“Guns!?” you exclaim.

He laughs at your cluelessness and rests his hands on your arms, looking into your eyes and shaking his head, “No, no... Not guns, well, kind of, but they’re filled with small, balls full of paint, not bullets. And you don’t die... you’re only stained with the color that’s shot at you. I promise you’ll like it.”

You tilt your head curiously. “Why do you want me to go with you?”

“I- I don’t know, I mean...” he scratches at his jaw nervously, that, laughing, and blushing softly are a nervous habit of his that you’ve picked up on. The thought that you’re doing this to him crosses your mind, but you quickly ignore it. “Actually, I... I do know why I want you to go...” he meets your eyes hesitantly.

You decide to not fluster him any longer, biting down on your lip with a soft smile, “Yeah... okay, I’ll go with you. But I’ll need to get changed first.”

“Of course, I’ll leave in a moment so you can,” he beams at you, practically lighting up the entire room with that smile of his, “But that’s... that’s awesome,” he laughs, blushing intensely, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous glance in your direction. “But, first thing... are you afraid of heights?”

~~~

“PETER FUCKING PARKER!” you yell down at him from the balcony on the, still impossibly high, third floor, watching as the boy swings from railing to railing, smiling like an absolute madman the entire time. And you’re pretty sure this is the calmest you’ve ever seen him. “Get your ass up here! We can go through the door!”

“I’m fine, (y/n),” he says, grinning that 1000-kilowatt smile again, stopping your heart again. Dammit, he’s really good at distracting me. “But it’s sweet that you worry about me,” he teases you like his confidence has soared as he literally soars through the sky, swinging from railing to railing like a freaking spider monkey. “Come down here and I’ll catch you.”

“You won’t be able to catch me,” you shake your head.

“Try me,” he looks up at you, pink lips curling at the corners.

“Don’t give me that look, smiling at me and trying to make me forget that I’m mad,” you shake your head again, quicker this time, smiling and rolling your eyes like you’re about to give into his puppy dog eyes.

“What look?” he flashes a cheeky grin, eyes crinkling and those dimples, your heart doing a series of flips in your chest.

“How can... can someone so intelligent be so goddamn stupid?!” you yell again, brows pinched together in worry as you bite down on your lower lip. “I can’t believe your doing this. This is what doors are made for!”

“Mr. Stark doesn’t like us being out so late and this is the only way for him not to see us leave, he’s got cameras everywhere on the inside, and I programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y to cover for us while we’re gone. There’s an awning that I fall onto below us that’s not too far down, don’t worry I’ve done this plenty of times before,” he says, still grinning like an idiot up at you, windswept, curled hair and all.

“There still has to be a better way to do this, right? How are you even doing that in the first place?” you ask him, voice rising with concern for him.

“Gymnastics,” he answers quickly. “And this way is much more fun, come down here and-” his hand slips.

He’s falling and he scrambles to catch the next railing, but doesn’t make it in time. You don’t think at all before jumping off the balcony, levitating yourself off the ground and swooping in to wrap your arms around his waist. He rests both his hands on your hips to steady himself, all before he can hit the sidewalk, he meets your eyes, both of you still in mid-air.

He smiles sheepishly at you while you scowl at him for scaring you so badly, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“I shouldn’t have to!” you say, setting yourself and him on the ground safely. “You can’t do that, Peter, hanging off a building, are you crazy?”

“Maybe I should have warned you about that, the me being crazy part,” he laughs, attempting to lighten the mood, succeeding as a begrudging but small smile makes its way onto your lips.

“You’re so lucky, you’re cute, Peter Parker,” you hold your face in your hands, laughing to yourself as you shake your head.

You peek through your fingers and giggle at the obvious blush dusting over his soft, freckled cheeks, laughing, “I am?”

You nod with a soft smile, “You also blush a lot, pekný,” you point out in your native tongue, teasing him further. He loves your voice, how smooth and purring it is whenever you speak to him. You smile softly and you take your hands off your face, running a hand through your (y/h/c) hair, “What for?” you lift an eyebrow.

“I-uh... well,” he darts his tongue out to lick his dry lips, you watch the movement before tearing your gaze away to meet his eyes again. The coil in the pit of your stomach tightens, so intensely that you’re convinced you’ll spontaneously combust if you look at him a second longer. Eye contact with him is always so intimate, when he meets your eyes, he sees right through you, breaks down your defenses, and reads all your secrets, even if, for some reason, you can’t read his.

Before he could embarrass himself even further, a deep, maroon Jeep rolls up beside you two, a few cars honking at it and yelling for the driver to get out of the way.

A girl around your age, you presume, sticks her head out the window and flips those cars the bird, “Jesus Christ, New Yorkers are so fucking pushy sometimes,” she blows, exasperatedly, a piece of her dark, brunette curls out of her eyes, looking between you and Peter.

“You’re parked in the middle of the street, Michelle,” Peter says with an amused smile to his friend. You can’t help but feel jealousy rear its ugly head when you see her and how beautiful she is, much more beautiful than me, you think. But, what you don’t know, is that MJ’s not the one Peter can’t keep his eyes off of. That’s you.

“They can wait a minute, none of them have lives anyway,” Michelle waves her hand dismissively, exuding confidence and a not-caring facade, you read her mind easily, hearing thoughts filled of love, affection, and how much she cares for her friends. You’ve come to find that it’s always the people that try to care the least that truly have the most to lose.

“I’m MJ, by the way, it’s what my friends call me,” she tilts her chin to you and you wave.

“Who’s that?” a boy peeks his head out from the passenger’s seat, looking at you for a moment before realizing. “Wait... is that the girl Peter won’t stop talking about in the group chat?”

MJ smiles, “The very same,” she answers, not once tearing her gaze from you. Wow, she’s pretty and really intimidating.

“She’s out of your league, man,” the boy shakes his head, and MJ nods her head in agreement, both of them sharing a look. You smile, slightly embarrassed, but also enjoying it when you look over to see Peter, completely off balance, more so on the ground than he was hanging on a railing at eighty feet in the air. Like flying is his happy place of sorts.

“Your friends are very sweet, Peter,” you turn to Peter with a small smile.

“And she’s Slovakian?” MJ says, which surprises you to know she recognizes your accent, only making your smile widen. “Dude...” her eyes widen and she shakes her head.

“Can we just... stop talking about this? Please?” Peter’s voice is higher now as he tugs at his collar, now regretting inviting MJ and Ned here, but the alternate to that would be being alone... with you. And that certainly wasn’t an option.

MJ shifts the car back into drive, “Just get in the car, you two, hop in the back.”

“Group chat, huh?” you quirk an eyebrow to Peter, pulling yourself into the car, your yellow, floral, sundress flowing gently in the air behind you.

He laughs. You love his laugh already, it’s perfect, for lack of a better word. You grin and help him into the back, both of you falling into the seats as MJ wastes no time in taking her foot off the brake and accelerating forward. And you swear you could hear a collection of relieved sighs when she finally gets out of the way.

“I like your friends,” you say to Peter and he smiles fondly.

“We like you too, new girl,” Ned yells from the front seat, catching you off guard from his sudden outburst.

Peter face palms.

“Have you ever been paint-balling, (y/n)?” Ned asks, body fully turns around so he can look at you and Peter in the backseat, the wind whipping through the open back of the Jeep.

“I just learned about it today, actually,” you say sheepishly.

“Well, our boy Peter is a bit of a pro at paint-balling, maybe this will be a chance for him to impress you?” MJ smirks at you.

“He doesn’t have to show off for me,” you look at Peter and share a small smile with him, trying to relax him a little, which MJ catches and rolls her eyes.

She makes a choking sound, sticking out her tongue, “L-love... s-so... GROSS!”

“They’re so sweet I’m getting a toothache,” Ned places his hands over his heart and aw’s at the two of you.

“We’re just friends, you two,” Peter leans forward in between their chairs.

“Could have fooled me,” MJ half shrugs, sending you a wink in the rear view mirror above her.

Friends. Yeah... you know this is true and that you’re nothing more, but you can’t ignore how your heart clenches at the word.

“She’s also an Avenger,” Ned pipes up randomly. “Hey, Peter, aren’t you one t-”

Peter reaches over the seat and holds his hand over Ned’s mouth to prevent him from saying anything further. You watch this confusing display with your brow furrowed.

“What he means to say is that I’ve always wanted to be an Avenger,” Peter turns around to look at you, hoping you’ll believe the blatant lie. “And... you know, work with them.”

Ned looks at Peter when he removes his hand and frowns, “But you said you-”

Peter holds his hand over his mouth once more and whispers something in his ear that makes Ned gasp and nod his head quickly in understanding. You attempt to read both of their thoughts, but they stop the discussion before you could read them, and there still has been no luck with Peter’s.

“Weirdos,” MJ sighs.

~~~

“(Y/N)! Duck!” Peter yells at you and you crouch down behind haystack, spinning around so you’re back is against the side of it. You look at Peter, adrenaline rushing and grinning.

MJ and Ned are on the other team while you and Peter are on your own, per their request, of course. You guys also added in the element of both teams having a flag, a bit of capture the flag weaved into the paint-balling. MJ and Ned still haven’t gotten yours and you’ve come close, but not quite. The game is outside at this small, paintball place on the outskirts of the city that’s open to almost midnight, which was slowly rolling in as the night sky got darker and darker, causing the stars to shine brighter, the only light you guys have to see what’s around you.

You’re also surprisingly good at paintball.

The result being Ned splattered with reds, yellows, blues, and purples. MJ is far too quick and agile to get shot, so she’s stayed clean, but not before shooting Peter in the leg.

“Thanks,” you smile at Peter. “Are you going to be able to walk? She hit you pretty hard...”

“I’m fine,” he assures you with a small smile, getting into a crouching position beside you.

“Last time you said you were fine, you fell off the side of a building,” you look at him with a flat expression.

He laughs, shaking his head, “I’m really fine, I swear.”

Ned looks around his area, “Aren’t we supposed to be wearing visors so we don’t get hit in the-”

MJ cuts him off and shoots him in his face.

“Hey! We’re on the same team!” Ned exclaims, holding his now blue face in his hands, knowing there will be a bruise there later.

“So?” MJ yawns, shrugging her shoulders

“I want to switch teammates!” Ned yells to you and Peter.

“Too bad, Ned, because my teammate’s awesome and I’m not getting rid of her,” Peter grins. “And I really can’t take you seriously when your face is blue, I’m sorry.”

“It is pretty funny,” you agree and Ned groans, wiping at his face.

You shake your head with a tender smile, pulling your hair back into a quick and loose ponytail so it’s out of your face. Peter watches you do so, diverting his attention away from you when you look back at him.

“Cover me?” you ask him breathlessly.

“Of course,” he smiles, the two of you sharing a quick fist bump before he flips over the haystack, your eyes wide when you see it, but you quickly shake your head, sneaking from the side while he shoots at Ned and MJ, distracting them while you get to the flag on the other side.

But you’re stopped by Ned, who’s guarding the flag, blocking your path. He looks up when he hears you rustle by the hay-bales, aiming his gun at you.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Ned,” you stand up, raising your hands in surrender while you watch Peter circle around as MJ is distracted by a stray cat that’s made its way over to her.

“You know it does,” Ned says in a deeper, mobster voice.

You narrow your eyes, “Not on my watch. Peter, now!” you yell.

Ned spins around, “Say hello to my little friend,” Peter says in his best Scarface voice, which is pretty terrible, but it’s also very cute, raising his gun and shooting Ned in the chest again.

Ned falls back slowly and theatrically, hitting the haybale and sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth.

MJ looks up from talking to the cat, “Did you guys just win?”

You grab their flag while Ned’s down and raise it high above your head, “Yep!” you say, popping the ‘p’.

“Ned, you suck,” MJ glares at him.

“You’ve been having a conversation with a cat this whole time! How do I suck?” Ned sits back up, even more paint splattered.

“You’re just jealous that I have a gift to be able to connect with animals and you don’t!”

“Only because you’re incredibly anti-social!”

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!”

“You were right,” you look at Peter and laugh. “I do like this.”

He laughs, “I knew you would,” Dimples.

Your heart melts a little at the sight and the four of you go and lay down on a the grass, Ned and MJ still arguing while you lay next to Peter.

“You won’t believe who I saw the other day,” you say to the stars, smiling up at them.

Peter looks at you, “Who?”

“Spider-Man,” you breathe out, chest still heaving from the exertion of playing the game and running around for more than an hour. “I’ve heard he’s a big deal here... and I met him, I can’t help but feel honored, you know?”

He bites back a smile, “Did he save you from something?”

“It was only a petty thief trying to take my purse,” you explain. “I handled it and... Spider-Man, he was there. And I don’t know I just... he was really sweet,” you smile at Peter. “I didn’t expect that.”

He turns and faces you, listening intently to everything you say, “What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure...” you trail off with a small smile. “It’s just- so many people nowadays are so full of themselves, acting all high and mighty, especially people in the media or superheroes like Spider-Man. All that tends to get to their head. Him, though... I only saw him for a moment and talked to him for only a short time, but he was so... so genuine,” you fully face Peter now. “He was human.”

You push your hair behind your ear and sigh, “And that probably sounds insane and doesn’t make any sense, but-”

“It’s not insane,” he shakes his head, smiling affectionately, relaxing you. “And that does make sense, to me, at least.”

“I wish he showed his face,” you bite down on your lip which drives Peter crazy. “Instead of hiding behind a mask. I would have loved to see him.”

“You could be seeing him ri- I mean... he could be anyone or anywhere,” he looks at you, searching your face. “You never know. And I’m sure he hides because he has enemies, this way they don’t know who he is.”

You exhale slowly, “I guess you’re right,” you say then smile. “Maybe I could be a superhero, a crime-fighting vigilante.”

He grins, “You would be a great superhero, you already are, basically.”

“Not yet,” you lick your lips, chewing on your bottom one anxiously.

“Believe me, (y/n), you are,” he meets your eyes.

“You’re so cheesy, Peter Parker,” you laugh loudly, heat rising up the back of your neck.

“Only because you bring that out in me,” he smiles.

“I’m honored,” you laugh again almost like coming down from a high while talking to him, high on him, intoxicated by his smile.

“You should be,” he agrees. “I’m normally a very serious person,” he scrunches up his nose adorably.

“Yes, very serious,” you giggle at the faces he’s making.

He looks at you for moment, too long to be a look you give your friend, but you don’t notice this until you’re both slowly leaning in to each other. His hand comes up to hold your chin between his fingers and the other behind your neck, tilting your head up, the gesture making your heart thunder loudly in your ears. The cool, night air hitting your fiery, hot skin, but all you can feel is him: his peppermint breath fanning your face, his hand on the small of your back, pulling you subtly closer to him, his dark eyes looking over you for any signs of hesitance but finding none, and ruffled hair falling over his eyes that tickles your skin.

You laugh quietly when your noses bump into each other. Then he smiles and your lips brush ever so softly.

“Do you...”

You look at him and nod, not having to think about your answer before-

“Can you guys not make nerd babies when we’re right here?” MJ says to you guys, having been watching the whole time. You and Peter scramble away from each other, sitting up quickly.

“I’d like to keep the little innocence I have left, thank you very much,” MJ rolls her eyes, but a smile betrays her coldness, then she stands up. “We should be getting back, anyway, it’s late.”

“Yeah, we should,” you say and share a look with Peter who’s blushing like crazy.

Ned and MJ get up from where they’re sitting and head back to the car. You and Peter follow suit, looking at each other like the two nervous kids that you are, still reeling from what would have happened if MJ hadn’t have interrupted.

“Another time, then?” he asks you, breaking the silence.

You grin, “Another time.”

As the two of you are walking back to the car, trying to catch up with the bickering pair that is Ned and MJ, your Stark gifted phone vibrates in your dress pocket. You stop walking and pull it out, Peter waiting with you while you do so.

“Who is it?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Mr. Stark,” you say, clicking the message and reading it aloud. “You know there are cameras outside the tower, too, right?”

You and Peter share an ‘uh-oh’ look, knowing you’ll both be in for it when you get home at this time of night.

Your phone vibrates again, “P.S Steve’s a night-owl and a snitch.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker #tony stark being a dad #tony stark #natasha romanoff #marvel fanfiction

81 notes · View notes

a-splash-of-stucky · 7 years ago

Text

I Know This Game | Two

Pairings: Bucky x Foster!Reader || Loki x Foster!Reader

Summary: In which you spend an evening with your boyfriend, but can’t stop thinking about your ex, especially when a few familiar faces pop up on screen.

Warnings: Language, hinting at smut, a lot of angst (like, so much you’re gonna die), mentions of cheating/betrayal.

Notes: Re-post :) All I can say is, poor Steve.

IKTG Masterlist

Loki greets you with a broad smile and a quick peck on the lips. “How was work?” he asks, taking your coat and hanging it on a hook by the door.

“The usual,” you say tiredly, your mind too preoccupied to elaborate further.

He don’t realise that I’m thinking about you It’s nothing new, it’s nothing new

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Your mind — the traitor that it is — thinks back to when a pair of mismatched arms used to carry out this same gesture, how you’d rest your hand over the metal extremity and stroke it gently, silently telling him that you’d love him regardless of how abnormal he might be.

No.

Loki noses the side of your head and presses a kiss to your temple. You remember giggling like a giddy teenager when a different set of pillowy-soft lips did the same thing, how his permanently-stubbled jaw would scratch at your skin.

Stop it.

You try to draw your mind back to the present when Loki starts mouthing wetly behind your ear and down the side of your neck, but all you can focus on is the way he used to do this. How his low, gravelly voice would rumble in your ear and send shivers down your spine, the way he’d filthily grind his pelvis against your ass, how his hands — one cool, one warm — would skate over your hips.

Cut it out.

“You seem a little stressed,” Loki murmurs, “Want me to make you dinner?”

You tip your head back and smile gratefully at him. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, chest vibrating a little with the sound. You just manage to avoid thinking about how a different barrel-chest would do the same. “Just don’t complain if my pasta tastes too salty, yeah?”, he jokes, releasing you from his grip and heading over to the kitchen.

You laugh, “I’m just gonna veg out on the couch for a bit, okay?”

Loki nods, “Go ahead. Put the TV on,”.

You kick off your shoes, pop open the button on your work trousers and sprawl out on his couch, groaning in relief as you sink into the cushions. As Loki bustles about in the kitchen, pulling pots and pans from the cupboard and ingredients out of the fridge, your mind can’t help but wander back to Bucky-related things.

You wonder if you jumped into the dating game too soon after your breakup with Bucky. You’d met Loki in a bar just three weeks after you left the compound. When he’d asked for your number and a few days later, took you out to dinner, you’d thought that nothing much would come out of it. Turns out, the Norwegian software engineer, with a completely stable family background and no history of any abuse whatsoever was exactly what you needed after your two years with the Avengers. There was nothing remotely ‘troubled’ about his personality, no triggers to always be mindful of, no need to constantly check your words around him. You’d always know where he is, and wouldn’t have to worry about him disappearing on a mission for days — weeks — at a time with no contact whatsoever.

No. I’m not supposed to be thinking about that anymore, you sigh internally.

As you watch Loki pour tinned tomatoes into the pot, you realise how alike he and Bucky really are. Perhaps not in looks, directly — though Loki does enjoy keeping his black hair long and shaggy, the way Bucky did — but most certainly in mannerisms and behaviour. When he’s concentrating hard, he cocks his head to the side the same way Bucky used to. His smirk and lopsided grin are unnervingly similar to your ex. And, though his skin might be paler and his body built in a different way, when you’ve got your hands on him, you feel the same ripple of powerful, sinuous muscles.

Why have you not noticed any of this before? Well, maybe you did, but your grieving mind perhaps buried those thoughts.

In fact, the more you think about it, the more you begin to draw comparisons between your two most recent relationships. Everything from the way Loki leans casually against the counter, to the way he prefers scaldingly hot showers, to the way he needs to be constantly touching you whenever he’s close — all of it just reminds you of Bucky.

So much for something different, you think ruefully. As alien as Loki may seem at surface glance, upon closer inspection, it’s painfully apparent that you’d dived headfirst into a relationship with someone who held too many similarities to your one true love. That’s not to say that your feelings for Loki aren’t genuine — in the five months you’ve been together, you’ve grown to really enjoy spending time with him — but you can’t help but wonder just how much of your affection towards him is due to the staggering amount of traits he shares with Bucky.

“D’you want a wine?” Loki calls, breaking you out of your deep self-reflection.

“Uh, yes please,” you reply, shaking your head to get rid of some of your lingering unease. This is not the first time you’ve caught yourself thinking about Bucky, when you’re supposed to be focused on your new relationship. None of this mental chastising is new to you, but you’re disappointed in yourself all the same. With a sigh, you pick up the remote and flick on the TV.

Some news channel comes on and you groan when you see three particularly familiar people dashing around on screen. It’s a clip of civilians being rushed out of a burning building — the ticker tape tells you that Bangkok is the location — with Iron Man, Captain America and the Falcon themselves darting in and amongst the fleeing crowd. Distantly, you wonder why Bucky isn’t with them. The program cuts to a shot of the three boys, looking grimy and a little worse for wear, hordes of reporters thrusting microphones into their faces.

“—The situation has been contained,” Steve is saying, using the authoritative ‘Cap voice’ he reserves for the media. “As this is an ongoing investigation, the Avengers are not at liberty to discuss this incident any further,”.

“All we can say, is that we have reason to believe that the bomb was planted by AIM, one of the last remaining sub-projects of HYDRA,” Sam interjects.

You tune out the rest of their words as your think back to the last time you spoke — or rather, had a shouting match — with the trio. You’re powerless to stop your mind from falling down this dark, dreary rabbit hole.

——————————

Steve.

After seeing them together, that’s all you can think about. Bucky is his best friend, surely Steve’d be able to sort him out.

He’ll know what to do, you tell yourself repeatedly. It’s the only assurance you have, the sole thing you can hold onto right now. It’s imperative that you see him, you feel like your life depends on it. Of all the people on the team, Steve’s the one you’ve known for longest and besides Bucky, the person you’re closest to. He has to know what to do.

The all-consuming panic is creeping up your spine, the unsettling chill worming its way into your bones. Your legs feel leaden, and you can’t move fast enough; it’s like you’re trying to walk through water. You touch your cheek and your fingers come away wet — the result of tears streaming freely from your eyes. You suddenly understand why your vision is so blurry. Raw, wrecked sobs rip their way free of your throat, but it takes you a moment to even realise that it’s you making those noises. You can barely hear anything over the constant throb of your pulse in your ear.

It takes all your energy to stagger into the elevator.

“JARVIS?” you choke out.

“Yes, Dr Foster?”

“Is Steve at the compound?” you ask shakily.

“He and Mr Wilson are currently in the lab with sir. Shall I take you there?”

“Please,” you whisper, slumping against the wall as the elevator car begins to move, because your knees are about ready to give out on you.

The next few moments pass by in a haze of confusion. Dimly, you recall the elevator doors opening, then finding yourself blindly stumbling down a sleek hallway, one hand pressed to the wall for support. Your movements are uncoordinated, your legs uncooperative due to the fog of sorrow, fury and pain clouding your mind. It takes you a while to get to Tony’s lab. The three men are crowded around a table, intently studying something or other, and are startled when you burst into the room. One look at you — your ashen expression, your tear-stained cheeks, your quivering bottom lip — and Steve is by your side in an instant, his big hand at the small of your back, silently guiding you to a stool.

“Y/N?” he murmurs softly, crouching down in front of you, “What happened?”. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tony and Sam hovering to the side, respectfully keeping their distance whilst staying close enough to hear your conversation.

“Bucky—h-he cheated on me,” you say thickly. The words feel like coals in your mouth.

Steve sucks in a sharp breath. “He wha—again?!”

You freeze, letting that single word sink in. In the silence, Steve realises what he said and immediately backtracks. “You—you saw them? After the mission? Together?” he asks, the words tripping over themselves in his haste to get them out.

A part of you — the part still pondering over that strange ‘again’ — wonders how he knows who Bucky was with. You force yourself to stiffly nod your head, still in shock and trying to process everything that you’ve seen.

“He promised me he wouldn’t,” Steve mutters, mostly to himself. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, so you almost don’t catch it.

You whip your head up and glare at him. A million questions are racing through your mind at the speed of light, but you force yourself to take a deep breath and ask the most important ones. “Steve,” you say quietly, fighting to keep your voice as steady and calm as possible, “What do you mean, ‘again’? What promise?”.

Steve pales at the barely-concealed outrage in your tone. “Nothing!” he blurts out, shying away from the fury raging in your gaze.

With a growl, you wipe your tears off your cheeks and look him dead in the eye. “Steven,” you whisper, letting every ounce of anger you’ve got drip into your tone, “Tell. Me. The truth,”.

“I—uh—he promised me that—he wouldn’t—,” Steve stutters, floundering helplessly under the intensity of your stare.

“Wouldn’t what?” you grit out, even though you know, with a sickening feeling in your stomach, what his answer will be. But, you need to hear it with your own ears — for as long as no one says it, you allow your heart to cling to its last shred of optimism. You allow yourself to hope that Bucky is still good, still who you think he is. Who you hope he is. Who you want him to be.

Sam suddenly appears by Steve’s side, hands outstretched in a non-defensive manner. He steps between the two of you — you realise that at some point, you must’ve stood up and stepped into Steve’s space — to stop you from pouncing on Steve and clawing at him with your nails. “Y/N, this has happened before,” Sam says bluntly.

You look at him in disbelief, hoping that he’s lying. His expression is calm, jaw set and eyes cool. Your last shred of hope shrivels up. “No,” you whisper, feeling the pieces of your heart crumbling to dust at his words, despite the fact that you’ve already braced yourself for this. “No, you’re lying!” you scream, not wanting to believe your ears. It couldn’t be true, could it? Bucky had been so loyal, so loving to you. He wouldn’t do this to you, would he?

“It was a mistake to send them alone on a mission together,” Sam sighs, giving Steve his signature side-eye, conveying a thousand unspoken words with just a single, pointed look.

“YOU KNEW?!” you shout incredulously, your patience finally breaking and making you lash out. Your rage-filled eyes flit back and forth between them, “You KNEW, and did nothing about it?”

“Now, sunshine, let’s not jump to conclusions here—,” Tony says quickly, forcing cheeriness into his tone as he materialises by your side. He grabs your elbow and pulls you back towards your stool, encouraging you to sit. Angrily, you shake his hand off and whirl around to face him. Tony takes a step back when he sees your positively feral expression.

“Did you know?” you growl.

“Y/N, I think it’s—,”.

“DID YOU KNOW?” you roar, feeling like you’re about two heartbeats away from strangling him.

The tense silence that follows is answer enough for you.

“I can’t believe this,” you whisper disbelievingly. Your voice is surprisingly calm, despite the emotional hurricane currently swirling around inside you. You sink onto the stool, suddenly feeling too weak, too queasy to stand. “All of you knew, yet no one decided to tell me? What kind of friends,” you spit the word out disgustedly, “Do you think you are?”

Steve winces at the unconcealed hurt in your tone. “Y/N, look I—it wasn’t what you think—,”.

“Like hell it wasn’t, Steve,” you interrupt sharply, “I know what I saw!”

“It was part of the mission!” Tony exclaims. You arch an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“It’s true, Y/N,” Sam says gently, “As part of the mission, they had to act like a couple—,”.

“Well the mission’s fucking over, isn’t it?” you hiss, “They’re back at the compound, no longer undercover, so would someone kindly explain why I just caught my boyfriend screwing one of my best friends?”. Your voice rises to a hysterical pitch at the end, betraying how shaken you really are.

All of you jump about three feet in the air when the door slams open behind you.

“Oh great,” Sam mutters. You don’t turn around, but from the expression on Sam and Steve’s faces, plus the tone of Sam’s voice, you have a pretty good idea of who it might be. The thud of heavy-duty combat boots confirm your suspicions.

A flush-faced Bucky appears on your left, warm body pressing against your shoulder — you don’t dwell on why his face is flushed, or the fact that it only tinges pink in that way when he’s been doing one particular kind of activity. Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but you look pointedly at the nearly non-existent space between the two of you. Wisely, he chooses to take a couple of steps back. You see his jaw twitch, like he’s about to say something, but you hold your hand up to stop him before he can even begin.

“Don’t,” you growl menacingly, shooting him a withering glare. “Don’t you dare say a fucking thing,”.

“Great job, Robocop,” Tony mutters, “Just had to go and royally fuck things up, didn’t you?”

“Stark,” Steve says sharply, “Save it for later,”. He turns to Bucky and shoots him a look that is equal parts apologetic and unimpressed. “Buck, maybe you should…leave us alone with Y/N, for a while?”

Bucky swallows nervously, not keen on the idea, but understanding that it’s probably for the best. He turns to you again and holds his hands out, palms up, as some kind of gesture of peace. “Doll,” he starts, voice wavering a little. Something inside you twitches, and you know that you’re this close to losing it, so you put on your ‘client face’, the mask of neutrality and facade of calm you use when talking to patients. It takes everything in you to ignore the shimmer of wetness in his eyes and the tremble in his flesh hand. “Doll, I—I know, what you saw must’ve been confusing, but—but trust me—,”.

“I did,” you hiss, sick and tired of all these lies and beating around the bush. “Don’t you see? I trusted you. I trusted all of you,”. You look to each one of the boys in turn, your anguished gaze conveying far more than any words you could ever say to them. Each one flinches and ducks their eyes to avoid your stare. “And where has that gotten me?” you continue, “Right in the same place I end up whenever I trust anyone. Stabbed in the back and tossed to the bottom of the losers pile,”.

As you look around the little group, you feel the anger, frustration and hurt sloshing around inside your belly, a dizzying, jacked-up cocktail of emotions. You never thought to expect a betrayal of this magnitude from these boys. You feel like like someone’s ripped your heart out of your body, torn it to shreds, then patched it back together — except they did a botched job, meaning that the organ beating inside your chest now resembles Frankenstein’s monster. You feel used and abused, utterly worthless.

Steve has tears falling down his cheeks. You stoically ignore Bucky, who’s sobbing quietly at your side. Sam and Tony look painfully uncomfortable too. You see how your words are tearing each and every one of them apart, but right now, you don’t care. In fact, you feel maliciously glad to see them hurting, even if it is only a fraction of what you’re experiencing.

“I thought we were friends,” you whisper quietly.

“We are!” Steve says, giving you those heart-melting puppy-dog eyes. For the first time since you’ve met him, they’re having no effect.

You shake your head in sadness, then turn to Tony. “I’m leaving the compound. I want to formally resign from my position,” you say, voice eerily confident.

“You can’t do that!” Bucky exclaims, taking your hand in both of his. You snatch it away angrily and cross your arms over your chest. He recoils from you, visibly hurt by your rejection. “We need you,” he pleads, “I need you,”.

“Find someone else,” you snap. “Oh wait, I forgot. You already have,”. Bucky jumps back like he’s been slapped, and you have to tamp down your irrational urge to wrap your arms around his shoulders and comfort him. He doesn’t need you.

Maybe he never has.

“Old habits die hard, huh?” you say viciously, “I guess once a player, always a player,”.

His eyes become impossibly wider, “No! Doll, it was never—,”.

“Save it,”, you snarl, and there’s an unforgiving finality in your tone that makes him clamp his jaw shut and choke back whatever he was going to say.

You turn to Tony again and, when he catches your gaze, he nods tensely. “I’ll notify Pepper. Happy’ll take you to her office. I’ll get someone to help pack up your things,”.

“Thank you,” you say curtly, getting off your stool.

“Y/N, please don’t go,” Bucky sobs, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding himself together.

“Goodbye, everyone. It was a pleasure working with all of you,” you say, blocking him out and affording yourself a final, cursory glance over the group. Your heart — or the fragmented remains of it, at least — twinges as you recall the memories and good times you’ve shared together.

Sam tips his head in a kind of respectful salute. “All the best, Y/N,”. You’re grateful that he doesn’t push you further, despite how hurt he must be. You don’t think you could take it if he fell apart — seeing Bucky and Steve crumble is more than enough.

The room is hauntingly quiet as you leave, the only sounds being the squeak of your shoes, Bucky’s barely-suppressed whimpers and Steve’s soft, murmuring voice.

You don’t turn back.

——————————

“Here you go!” says Loki, thrusting a bowl of pasta in front of you.

You jump, just managing to bite back a scream. You feel a little disoriented after your little daydream, your mind shaken and unsettled. With a small smile, you accept the food he’s made you, plus the glass of wine he hands you after. A glance at the TV shows you that the news hour is over, and some random documentary is currently playing.

But you’ve been replaced I’m face to face with someone new

“You sure you’re okay?” Loki asks concernedly, as he settles in by your side.

You force your mouth to pull into a smile. “Yeah. Just…work was really tough today,”.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You know I can’t,”. You twirl the spaghetti around your fork and take a big bite out of it, “It’s really good!” you exclaim, hoping to deftly change the subject.

He brightens, “Yeah? I tried out this new recipe…”

Yet again, you find your mind drifting off as he drones on about his cooking. Damn that Everhart bitch for putting you in such a funk, you think. You force yourself to listen to your boyfriend, and even manage to engage in some active conversation with him over the course of the evening. You tell yourself that a momentary lapse in your control and an unexpected trip down memory lane does not mean that you’re still hung up on Bucky. It’s normal to think about past events every now and then, you reassure yourself, that’s how we remember.

But dwelling on your past will not make things any better — these are words you’ve told countless patients hundreds of times. I don’t need you anymore, you think, as Loki takes your bowl, sets it on the coffee table, then guides you to his bedroom, I’ve got someone else now.

---------------------------- Tags are open, but I’m only accepting requests via asks or PMs. Tag requests from replies/comments will be ignored.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #loki x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #cheating #reader insert fic #my writing #i know this game #bucky barnes imagines

341 notes · View notes

i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 7 years ago

Text

On Your Right - Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

A/N: This story literally started out because of this shirt.. . And all I wanted to do was right a quick little drabble about the reader running with Sam so there was someone between him and Bucky. And then I started writing about Bucky and I couldn’t stop, so here’s part 1 of like probably at least 3 maybe more. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Starts with Bucky, Sam, Cap and reader running around the reflecting pool and then goes from there. There’s Bucky fluff. A little bit of angst. Inexperienced!reader

Rating: T (to be safe)

Word Count: 1786

Masterlist

Sam had been begging you for weeks to go on his morning runs with him. When you found yourselves on an extended stay in DC, you finally agreed, waking up before the sun and changing into your workout clothes. You met at the far end of the reflecting pool and started off at a light jog.

The two of you ran at about the same pace, so it was easy to keep in time. You were about to comment on the slowly lightening sky, when you heard heavy, hurried footsteps behind you.

“Just ignore them,” Sam ordered.

Before you could ask, you heard Steve’s familiar voice, “On your left,” and saw him pass by Sam. You weren’t expecting the low “On your right,” murmured in your ear as Bucky passed you and you jumped in surprise.

“Do they always do that?” You asked as you sped up to keep pace.

“Constantly,” Sam grumbled.

You didn’t understand why Sam was so put out. It was kind of funny. You supposed it might get irritating if it happened every day.

It was plenty irritating by the thirteenth time that same morning.

“Okay, now I get why you wanted me to go running with you,” you laughed as you leaned back against the tree, trying to catch your breath.

“It was one thing when it was just cap, but both of them. I needed a barrier.”

“Fair enough. Well, if running with you means a view like this, I can dig it.”

“Are you two calling it quits already?” Steve asked, walking up to you, barely even breaking a sweat.

Stupid super soldier.

“We’re just getting started,” Bucky added on, looking even less fazed.

“Well, by all means, have at it. We wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“You could never hold me back, doll,” Bucky smiled genuinely at you, and you lost your train of thought. “Of course, I could always slow things down, if that’s the way you like it.”

Steve rolled his eyes at his best friend and Sam fake gagged next to you. In your head you responded with a witty quip about how he would never know how you like it or something similar. In reality you just sort of gaped at him, stomach flipping and brain fritzing.

Standing up abruptly, you mumbled an excuse, “I better head back to the tower. Wanda said she wanted to train together this morning. See you later, thanks for the run, Sam.”

“If that’s what you call it,” Steve barked out laughing.

“Yeah, you’re hilarious. That hasn’t gotten old at all,” Sam sneered.

Rolling your eyes, you jogged away from the three guys, but once they were out of sight, you slowed to a walk. You remembered too late that Wanda had left the night before.

“Ugh, idiot,” you mentally slapped yourself.

You had no doubt they had all picked up on your lie. Figuring it wasn’t worth it to face Sam’s teasing or Steve’s knowing glances or Bucky’s dumb flirty perfect face you didn’t bother going back to the compound.

“Stupid super soldier,” you muttered to yourself as you wandered around D.C.

You ended up at the Smithsonian, roaming around the Captain America exhibit. You liked to come here whenever you were in D.C. You had come with Bucky pretty frequently when he was first sorting through his memories after Wakanda. Being there brought back your own happy memories.

You smiled at the video clip of Steve and Bucky they had playing on a loop. They were so at ease, joking and teasing. It had taken a long time, but the light in Bucky’s eyes had eventually come back. He and Steve were constantly laughing together making up for lost time you were sure.

You’d also seen that smile thrown your way more than once. It always made your stomach warm, like when you finally got a home cooked meal at the holidays.

No. No. No.

You didn’t want to admit that Bucky had started to feel like home. That would mean that you liked him. And you definitely did not like the dumb, wonderful, sweet, perfect super soldier.

Shit.

It wasn’t that you actually had a problem liking Bucky. He was one of the best people you knew. T’Challa and his team had managed to deactivate the programming Hydra had given him. He could never be turned into that again. He once told you it was one of the happiest days of his life, followed quickly by months of the worst.

Knowing he couldn’t turn back into the Winter Soldier was a huge relief for him. But then he was finally forced to confront what he had done. That was a long struggle. The major turning point was when Tony came to visit the compound and forgave Bucky.

Natasha had provided Tony with the same intel she had given Steve. The intel that offered excruciating detail into everything that was done to Bucky. You weren’t sure about everything, but given the night terrors he often had, you could guess. Even with that info, it took time for Tony to come around. But when he finally came to the compound, he sat with Bucky. He told him how he understood that they had turned Bucky into a weapon. How it wasn’t really him that pulled the trigger.

That had been the first time you saw hope in Bucky’s eyes. After that he started to heal and you slowly began to see the Bucky Barnes Steve had once known. And Sergeant Bucky Barnes, was a merciless flirt, and you had fallen right for it. He took particular pleasure in riling you up.

You were ��cute when you’re flustered, doll”. He drove you nuts. Because while you wanted to be bold and confident like Nat, and your sarcasm skills were definitely up for the job, you were as inexperienced as pre-serum Steve on the dating thing. That’s why Bucky’s comment about taking it slow threw you. Yeah he was teasing you about sex, but in reality if you were going to be with him you really would need him to take it slow - right from the start with dating, all the way through to sleeping together. That is why you never gave into your crush. You knew he’d get bored with you before anything ever happened.

“On your right.”

You jumped at the interruption to your inner monologue, more than a trained agent should have.

“You know when I told you to take a picture because it would last longer, I didn’t mean it. You’re always welcome to take a peek at the real deal.”

“Who says I was looking at you?” You shot back.

“Same goes for Steve. It’s not like he’d toss a dame like you out of bed.”

“Always a gutter brain. Were you this bad in the 40’s?”

“I’m a perfect gentleman, doll. Remember I promised to take it nice and slow with you,” he whispered at the shell of your ear.

You repressed a shiver.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested abruptly.

He tried to play it off as a pick up line, but you sensed the sudden tension in him. You looked around and noticed the large tour group of kids coming your way. Kids always recognized Bucky, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the parents who pulled them away.

Pulling his arm around your shoulder, you stuck your hand through his belt loop, guiding him away.

Public displays of affection make people nervous. Nat had taught you that. A happy couple drew much less attention than a baseball cap and jacket ever would.

Outside in the fresh air, you felt Bucky instantly relax beside you, but he didn’t remove his arm from around you. It felt nice, so you let him lead you around the city, letting your feet fall in step with his.

“You look nice, by the way,” you complimented him after catching sight of your reflection in a store window. “What’s the special occasion?”

His dark jeans fit him perfectly, and the blue striped button down he wore was snug in all the right places.

“I… uh… had a date planned. But the dame never showed,” he explained, using his free hand to adjust his baseball cap.

Your heart sank at his words. A date.

“So you decided to take a trip down memory lane instead?” you queried.

He shrugged.

“I hoped you’d be there. I thought we could spend some time together.”

Because you were the easy part. Always there, but never wanted until you were the last thing left.

“Well, you found me,” you huffed.

Noting the change in your expression, he steered you toward the nearest shop. The sweet smell of sugar, butter, and chocolate pushed away the worst of the bitterness. Bucky ordered a giant brownie and a giant chocolate chip cookie. You took your goodies and settled into one of the small tables in the corner.

You moaned as you bit into the warm chocolate chip cookie, not feeling an ounce of shame until you noticed Bucky repressing a smile.

“What?”

“Nothing,” He shook his head, “Not a thing, doll.” He grinned and then turned to people watch.

While he was distracted, you reached out to steal a bit of his brownie. You were a millimeter away when you felt his hand close around your wrist.

“Paws off my sweets, doll.”

You managed to look a little sorry and moved to retract your hand but Bucky didn’t let you. Instead, he moved both of your hands under the table and entwines your fingers. With his other hand he pinches off a piece of the brownie, offering it to you. You go to grab it, but he pulls back with a smirk.

“Ah ah. I said paws off,” he reminded you, offering the bite again.

“Then what… Oh,” you said, realizing what he was getting at.

As he held up the bite of brownie you inclined your head and he fed it to you, smirking triumphantly. He offered you another bite, with that same infuriating smirk.

‘Mmmm, god that tastes so good,” you groaned, and his smirk faltered for a moment, as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. It was so quick you soon decided it must have been your imagination.

Halfway through his brownie, you realized your cookie had gone relatively untouched.

“You know, you’re looking mighty smug for someone who’s willingly giving up half his dessert without getting anything in return,” you grinned, opting for a bite of your own cookie. Breaking off a piece you offered it to Bucky, who snaked his tongue out and took the bite.

“Who says I didn’t get anything in return,” he commented, smiling brightly.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. There will be more coming because I am down the Seb Stan/ Winter Soldier rabbit hole and I’m not coming back. Feedback is appreciated but be kind lovelies.

Part 2

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky x Reader

436 notes · View notes

douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

Text

THE TROUBLE WITH THE STARTUP GROWTH

New York or LA. It was no coincidence. I'll try not bringing books on some future trip. Need for structure I'm told there are people who do. For most of the audience seemed to be synonymous with quiet, so I didn't do it. The danger here is that you have to select 20 players. I know are programmers. If you can develop technology. And this turns out to be as true in a hundred years.

As technologies improve, each generation can do things that would be illegal otherwise. Periods and commas are constituents if they occur between two digits. The reason we tell founders is not to try hard enough.1 You can't make a list of n elements.2 So have we just shown, by reductio ad absurdum, that it's false that economic inequality should be decreased? I have not yet seen evidence that seemed to me full of random stuff. There are few corporations in which it would be hard for anyone to stop them in order to keep search broken, it makes me really want to know what languages will be like in a hundred years.3 Startups prosper in some places and not others. Even the most radically open-minded of us mostly do that. And when you discover a competitor with the sort of person who has them.4 In an earlier essay I said that upset him: that startups would do better to go off and work with a small group of other ambitious people. You can mitigate this with subsidies at the bottom and taxes at the top are grabbing an increasing fraction of the nation's income—so much smaller that all the rules are different.5

How can you manipulate data without doing pointer arithmetic? So any difference between what people want. When you raise a lot of lines have nothing on them but a delimiter or two. That doesn't feel right. I think it can scale all the way to find or design the best language is to be something that is going to read a description of Y Combinator that said Y Combinator does seed funding for startups. I don't like to admit it, but if I were choosing now that's still the one I'd pick. The negotiation never stops till the closing.

As with the question of cofounders, the real lesson here is to start startups, and it probably had something of the effect that parents hope children's books have in making people behave better. It's a general historical trend. And yet those who dislike the term are probably right, because if it means what I think it could give you an edge to understand the underlying principles. Could a programming language is how well it achieves its purpose, then the measure of the relative power of programming languages is more like the rate of income tax, the more you stay pointed in the same direction.6 It would work for a while, and then sell at the top, by underpaying their top management. Several of the most important principles in Silicon Valley don't seem to be taking their time.7 Is the right answer for dealing with fly balls. Anything that is supposed to double every eighteen months seems likely to run up against some kind of fundamental limit eventually. General Motors.

Google, or they'll see through you in a way that's incompatible with this curve.8 If you'd asked most 40 year olds in 2004 whether they'd like to publish their lives semi-publicly on the Internet in 20 years, and it hasn't affected programming practice much so far. In fact, getting a normal job may actually make you less able to pass costs on to customers and thus less willing to overpay for labor.9 We may have democracy, or we may have wealth concentrated in the hands of a few big blocks whose relationships were negotiated in back rooms by a handful of deals a year and they don't spend a lot of external evidence that benevolence works. Find something that's missing in your own country. And barring financial catastrophe, I think it may be, in certain specific moments like your family, this month a fixed amount of deal flow, and that people should work for another company for a few seconds I realized this when I read an interview with Joe Kraus, the co-founder of Excite.10 When a friend of mine said, Most VCs can't do anything that would be popular but seem hard to make something great and not worry too much about the business model, at least by their standards.11

Some kinds of waste really are disgusting. Once you're allowed to do that is not, at least for me, its main value.12 We could see the problem was intermittent. So one way to make a startup succeed—if you avoid every cause of failure, you succeed—and that's too big a question to answer on the fly. In the worst case takes a year rather than a weekend.13 In a specialized society, most of which fail, and one of the characters on a TV show was starting a startup were easy, everyone would do it.14 In languages, as in every other language. Lisp. But we can't start from the symptom and hope to fix the underlying causes. A round? And one of the O'Reilly people that guy looks just like Tim. It was a kind of shorthand: money is a huge time sink—more work, probably, than the startup itself.

But until this does start to happen, and arrange to be standing there when it does. In fact, one strategy I recommend to people who need a new idea is not merely ten people, but ten people like you. In that respect the Cold War teaches the same lesson as World War II, and the problems you understand best are your own.15 A company that an angel is willing to put $50,000 into at a valuation of a million can't take $6 million from VCs at that valuation. Free free If you do that, you get to a pretty big opportunity. So in effect what's happened is that a restrictive language is one that isn't succinct enough, and when it suddenly drops, you sell. We now have several examples to prove that startups don't need to market themselves to investors because they invest their own. What's not a theory is the converse: if you're trying to stop doing it, but now we advise founders to vest so there will be more like being able to pick winners. It's just something we use to move wealth around.16

Notes

MSFT, having sold all my shares earlier this year.

If you look at what Steve Jobs tried to raise money? The real problem is not just the kind of organization for that might produce the next downtick it will thereby expose it to competitive pressure. A good programming language ought to be a quiet contentment.

You owe them such updates on your way up into the subject of wealth for society.

The angels had convertible debt with a wink, to get only in startups tend to become a function of the movie Dawn of the hugely successful startups have over established companies is 47. Do not finance your startup with credit cards. Dan Bricklin and Bob Frankston.

If you're good you'll have to want them; you have to preserve their wealth by forbidding the export of gold or silver. He did eventually graduate at about 26. That's the trouble with fleas, they may introduce startups they like the increase in trade you always feel you should never sell i.

What's the connection?

It doesn't take a meeting with a real idea that evolves naturally, and everyone's used to wonder if they'd survived. When you're starting a startup with debt is usually slow growth or excessive spending rather than doing a bad idea. If you want as an example of computer security, and that's much harder to fix once it's big, plus they are within any given time I thought there wasn't, because even if they could bring no assets with them. Apparently someone believed you have to mean starting a business, or can be said to have been truer to the size of a startup, both of which he can be said to have more money.

Http://doingbusiness. Someone proofreading a manuscript could probably starve the trolls of the big winners are all about to give each customer the impression that the lies people told 100 years.

The proportions of OSes are: the resources they expend on the web have sucked—. If you freak out when people are immune to the average NBA player's salary at the lack of transparency.

Unless we mass produce social customs. But if you're measuring usage you need to be secretive, because they could probably starve the trolls of the most common recipe but not in 1950 something one could argue that the VC. You'd think they'd have taken one of the 70s, moving to Monaco would only give you 11% more income, they did that they'd really be a win to do, I'll have people nagging me for features.

Why Startups Condense in America. Hackers don't need empathy to design new languages.

We care about Intel and Microsoft, would increase the size of the magazine they'd accepted it for you. They don't know enough about big markets, why didn't the Industrial Revolution was one of them.

The mystery comes mostly from the most difficult part for startup founders tend to become addictive. This is everyday life in Palo Alto to have gotten where they all sit waiting for the others to act against their own interest.

But it was raise after Demo Day pitch, the increasing complacency of managements.

But he got there by another path. Philadelphia is a function of revenues, and those are writeoffs from the moment; if you were going to work for us!

When governments decide how to be actively curious. And they tend to be low. They assumed that their system can't be buying users; that's the situation you find yourself in when so many people mistakenly think it was the recipe: someone guessed that there may be somewhat higher, even thinking requires control of scarce resources, because by definition if the fix is at pains to point out, First Round Capital is closer to a later Demo Day.

Thanks to Chip Coldwell, Jackie McDonough, Sam Altman, Guy Steele, and Steve Huffman for sparking my interest in this topic.

0 notes