#marvel x hurt reader

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[aquaticmercy]

Hot Chocolate?

Summary: Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and can’t find you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : PTSD, nightmares, panic. very slight cursing. hurt/comfort. Very much an angsty fic.

Requested by : myself again 

Word count : 1.4k

Note : As someone who has struggled with sleep disorders, writing this helped me reach a strange catharsis. Since today is World Mental Health day, please check up on your friends, my loves! Oh and I am still accepting requests, I just have enough prompts for the rest of this week and will be replying to your asks at the start of next week! Also, do Americans use electric kettles? Sincerely, someone who lives in England.

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

Bucky shot awake. He shuddered, trying to bat away the lingering visions of his nightmare that clung to him like a drenched blanket.

He found his lungs grasping for air with panic gasps as his eyes darted around the bedroom. The shadows casted by the starlight filtered through the curtains took shapes that made his heart race. For a split second, he thought he wasn’t in his apartment anymore. He was back in the Siberian Hydra lab, cold metal restraints nipping into his skin. He heard his handler’s voice speaking Russian, echoing the room with his old trigger words.

He forced himself out of this terrified state, grounding himself in reality. His chest was heaving, his eyes were bleary. Instinctively, his hand reached for the space next to him. 

It was empty.

You weren’t there.

A wave of panic crashed over him, and this was far more constricting than the terror of his nightmares. His heart started pounding more violently in his chest. His fingers grazed the sheets where you should have been. You had at least been gone long enough for the pillows to grow cold.

He could feel his pulse in his veins, each beat hammering the insides of his skull. His mind spiralled uncontrollably, thoughts feeding off the remains of the nightmare and twisting them into something much worse.

Had you left him? 

What did he do? 

Had he driven you away?

Was this it?

Bucky hastily threw off the covers, sprawling it all on your bedroom floor. He stumbled out of bed, mind clouded with fear and panic. The apartment was eerily quiet— too quiet for him to handle on his own. Too quiet for his overwhelmingly loud thoughts.

He waded through the hall as if he was four feet deep in muddy waters, his bare feet softly thudding against the floorboards. The faint sound of water boiling reached his ears. His breath hitched, his heart racing.

Emerging into the open space, his eyes darted around the dark living room, his gaze finally landing on the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He walked towards the kitchen.

There you were.

You were standing by the kitchen counter, a mug in one hand, the other resting on the kettle. You were so beautiful. So perfect, compared to him.

You looked lost in thought, your posture relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him, though you were unaware.

Bucky’s feet stayed where he was for a moment, as if ice had frozen over him. Relief washed over him so fast that it nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs. 

You were here. You hadn’t left. 

The relief was quickly replaced by the gnawing ache of guilt, the kind that made his chest feel tight and his head swim feel like it was underwater. He’d thought you were gone, and the mere thought of it had sent him into a spiralling depth. How pathetic.

He couldn’t help it. He constantly felt like teetering on the edge of losing you. Like every day with you was borrowed time. Like he had already stayed his welcome. Like he wasn’t worthy of holding you in his arms.

Perhaps the reason he was so jaded sometimes, was that he was sure you’d wake up and realise he was too broken, too damaged. 

When he played this scenario in his head, you’d walk out the door, leaving him a shell of the man he is now. He thought about it more that he’d care to admit.

His heart was still pounding in his chest as he moved closer to you. His footsteps were slow and uncertain. Your eyes lifted to meet his stormy blue ones as he entered the kitchen, your brow furrowing in concern when you saw his pale, shaking face.

"Bucky?" your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. 

He shivered a bit, unable to form words for just a second. The ache in his stomach and the ball in his throat made it impossible to speak. His eyes dropped to the floor, shame curling a painful knot in his core. 

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” he finally muttered, struggling to get every word out, as if he was swallowing glass. “I thought…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence too painful to say out loud. Instead, small sobs escaped his lips.

You set the mug down on the counter and closed the distance between the two. Your hand found his arm, your fingers warm against the cool vibranium. 

“Hey,” you said gently, willing your voice to be as soothing as can be, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Bucky’s gaze stayed fixed on nothingness. You could hear his jaw clicking nervously, like a man terrified for his life. 

“I thought you’d left,” he admitted in a cracked whisper, sounding as fragile as he felt. “Thought I’d… driven you away.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. He sounded like a whimpering puppy, begging to be held.

He had such a raw, vulnerable nature that he tried his best to keep hidden all the damn time. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as he allowed you to. You needed him to know you were never letting him go.

At first, his body was frozen like a petrified statue— he wasn’t sure he deserved the comfort. But slowly, his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“I’m right here, darling,” You whispered. Your words were firm but gentle. “I’m always right here.”

He let out a shaky breath. His forehead dropped to rest against the top of your head, breathing on your scent— the scent that always brought him a sense of calm. “I don’t… I don’t know why I keep thinking you’ll leave.”

“I’m not.” You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “I’m not,” you repeated again, hoping that if you said it enough times, he’d finally believe it.

The sincerity of those two simple words made his throat tighten, his chest constricting under the weight of emotions he had always struggled to fully process. He had never ever wrapped his head around how you could stand here, looking at him—someone so broken and damaged—with such gentle desire. He had never believed he deserved it.

But he wanted to believe, to trust that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he always feared. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t going to leave him behind like he feared you would.

The faint shimmer of tears fractured the soft kitchen light. He was at a loss of words at how you were holding him together, when he couldn't even do it for himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I keep putting you through this.”

Your hand found his, fingers intertwining with his. Your grip was warm, It was reassuring and steady. “Don’t be,” you said softly. You could tell that he had a nightmare. You learned the signs— the shaking, the sweating. The look of restlessness despite being asleep for the last several hours. “You just had a rough night.”

Bucky trembled against you, feeling him unravelling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was short and it came in shaky bursts. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot and heavy, soaking into your skin. They started quietly, a gentle release, but soon turned into shuddering sobs that echoed against the kitchen counter, the walls, the floors.

His grip tightened, fingers twirling into the fabric of your shirt as if you were his anchor in this reality. Each sob was raw, steeped in guilt and in the fear of losing you.

No matter how vulnerable he felt, he knew that in your embrace, there was no judgement. You held him tighter, whispering soft reassurances and sweet nothings— promises that you’d stay with him forever and ever. Until the end of time. Until your heart gave out.

“Do you want hot chocolate, too?” you asked softly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a small laugh, your words a shocking catharsis, bringing him out of the spiral. 

Oh, you always knew how to say the right thing at the right time.

He nodded, squeezing your hand one more time, just to reassure himself that you were real, that you weren’t slipping away.

You smiled gently at his quiet laugh, slightly reaching out to turn the electric kettle back on again without letting your grip on him falter.

As the kettle hummed in the background, Bucky held you close, finally convincing himself that no matter how dark the nightmares were, you would always be there when he woke up.

-end

[yourmidnightlover]

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

pt 2 -> control

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite. 

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 

-

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 

and then there was a knock at the door. 

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 

[nastybuckybarnes]

Cling to me

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You overhear something you weren’t meant to hear. 

Warnings: Angst, Language, Fluff, 

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: wrote this one a year ago teehee but I LOVE this kinda shit I live for it. hope y’all enjoy 

~*~

“So things are going well, then?”

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you really shouldn’t. It was an accident.

You had approached the bathroom door to ask Steve for a towel, not wanting to drip water all over the carpeted hallway, when you heard him and Bucky talking.

The bathroom fan is on, drowning out the sound of you stepping closer to the wood.

“Well, yeah, I guess so. I mean... I guess.”

You frown.

You thought things were going great.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and glances at the bathroom door then slightly lowers his voice, but you can still hear him clearly.

“She just... she’s real needy, Buck. She’s physically clingy, always sitting by me or on me and holding my hand and stuff... and she never leaves me alone when I’m out on assignments. I’m just... I need some space.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest for a moment before beating twice as hard, each beat smashing against pins and needles and sending pain radiating through your chest.

Too needy.

Steve thinks you’re too needy.

This is how it started with Jeremy.

You were too clingy.

Slowly, you back away from the bathroom door and slide down the wall, shivering at the wet droplets clinging to your skin, then put your face in your hands.

Steve won’t be like Jeremy. He can’t.

Everything will be fine, you just need to give him space.

You can almost hear Jeremy’s voice in your head, whispering words that he’d repeat when you were with him. But maybe he was right.

Just because you like being physical and spending time with him doesn’t mean he wants that too. You haven't even taken his wants into consideration.

A knock on the bathroom door startles your face out of your hands and you flip your head up, looking at the door with wide eyes.

“Honey? I’m just gonna go grab some drinks with Bucky and Sam. I’ve got my phone and I shouldn’t be home too late.”

You take a deep breath and nod even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, have fun!”

Your voice is a little duller than usual, a little less lively, but Steve chalks it up to the fan distorting your voice.

You stay rooted in place on the bathroom floor, knees hugged up to your chest, for hours.

You’re not sure why, whether it’s out of fear that he won’t come back or that he’ll be waiting out there to break up with you, but you’re terrified.

Eventually, after the chills have sunk into your soul and shivers are shaking your bones, you leave the bathroom and get dressed.

Usually, you’d put on a pair of panties and one of Steve’s shirts, but you can’t bring yourself to touch his stuff after what you heard.

You pull on a tank top and a sweater and your fuzziest socks, hoping to chase away the cold, though it feels like it’s here to stay.

The apartment seems so empty without him there, and you yearn to check up on him and make sure he’s okay, but you don’t go near your phone.

He’s a grown man and he can take care of himself.

You barricade yourself in the bedroom, cuddled up under the blankets and holding one of your pillows to your chest as you watch reruns of Golden Girls.

You fall asleep before he gets home, though you’re awoken by the sound of the door opening.

Instead of perking up and meeting him like you usually would, you stay in bed, pillow hugged to your chest and eyes shut.

He’s stealthy as he joins you in bed, sliding in behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

It takes everything in you not to shake his arm off.

As he leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, a tear slides down your temple and buries itself in the pillows.

~*~

Steve’s confused at your sudden change in behaviour, constantly checking his phone for texts from you and missing your touch when he sits on the couch reading a report.

You’re standing in the kitchen a few days later, talking softly to Yelena and Wanda while Bucky, Natasha, Sam and Steve all sit on the couches in your living room.

The two women lead the way into the living room and you follow them, not stopping your conversation as you take a seat between the two of them.

Steve’s eyes are focused on you, waiting for you to look at him, to realize that you’re not sitting in the right spot and that you should be closer to him, but you never do.

You stay engaged in your conversation, laughing at something Yelena says before turning your attention to Wanda.

Bucky watches curiously as Steve balls his hands into fists then turns back to the conversation he was having, his voice slightly more strained than before.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Bucky asks later that evening after almost everyone else has gone home.

You’re already in bed, oblivious to the conversation they’re having.

“I thought it was, but not cold turkey. She hardly texts me unless I text first, she doesn't kiss me goodbye anymore, and she hasn’t sat beside me once in the past week.”

Bucky shrugs, “you’re the one who said she was too clingy.”

Steve knows.

He fucking knows.

And maybe he’ll like it, but first, he needs to get to the bottom of why you’ve switched so quickly.

After bidding Bucky goodbye, Steve joins you in the bedroom, climbing into bed beside you and rolling onto his side to watch you.

Your attention is focused on the TV as if he isn’t in bed with you at all.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you reach over and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, then turn off the TV.

You don’t do it on purpose, but he doesn't say anything.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, turning onto your back and facing away from him.

He stares at you in shock.

The past couple of nights he’s come into bed after you’ve been asleep, but tonight he was sure you’d cuddle up against him like you usually do.

“Goodnight. I love you,” he murmurs, heart racing in his chest as he waits for your reply.

“I love you too.” There it is.

It settles his heart a tiny bit to hear you whisper the words, but he’s still confused by your actions.

You always cuddle up to him.

Always.

Every night that he’s been home for the past year.

And now you’re not even wearing his clothes to bed.

He can’t sleep at all that night, too focused on how strange you’ve been acting and how much he fucking hates it.

And then it dawns on him.

You must’ve heard him talking to Bucky.

That’s the only explanation.

His heart hurts in his chest and guilt floods his body. He tosses his head back against the pillows and squeezes his eyes shut, hating himself for ever speaking those stupid words.

He was just having a bad week. He was overwhelmed with work and briefings and then you were always by his side.

It was too much.

And now you’re doing everything in your power to distance yourself from him.

You’re lying in the same bed but you’ve never been further away.

Sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of your body, but you may as well be a thousand miles away.

The guilt wells up in his eyes and slips down his cheeks as he rolls onto his side and pulls you against his body, burying his face in your hair.

Fuck, he feels terrible.

All night he thinks about how much you do for him, how much you love him and everything you’ve given to him and sacrificed for him. And he couldn’t even appreciate you properly. No, he had to go and run his mouth about bullshit that he didn’t even mean.

He has to make this right.

He will.

He just has no idea where to start.

~*~

When you wake up the next morning there’s a strong arm secured around your waist.

You’re so used to waking up alone that you can’t help but cuddle into it. That is, until you remember his complaints.

Shifting as slowly as you can, you try to slip out of his grip, but he only wraps his arm around you tighter.

“You’re leaving?” He asks into your hair, his voice groggy.

You swallow hard and clear your throat.

“Bathroom,” is all you manage to whisper.

He lets out a heavy sigh but slowly unwinds his arm from around your waist.

“You’re gonna come back after, right?” He asks, his voice soft.

You hesitate before getting up, unsure of what to say.

Are you?

You don’t particularly want to.

Well, that’s not true. You want to, more than anything, but you don’t want to overwhelm him and smother him with your clingy nature.

“Do you want me to?” You end up asking, glancing over at him.

He slowly opens his eyes, sadness filling them, and you regret asking.

“Honey... what I said the other day... to Buck... I wasn’t thinking, sweetheart. I don’t think you’re too clingy, not at all. I think you’re perfect for me and the way that things have been lately… All the distance between us? It’s been unbearable. I hate it. I didn’t know what changed at first but... I’m sorry.”

Your heart is in your throat at the fact that he knows you heard what he said.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I’m sorry,” you whisper, pushing into a seated position to get off the bed.

“Honey, wait. Please. Please, don’t go. I miss you. So damn much. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were. And... I know that will probably take time, but I just miss you so fucking much.”

Tears prickle at your eyes and you sniffle, refusing to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to be clingy. I know... I know I can be a lot. It’s one of the issues Jeremy and I had. I can give you space, Steve.”

His heart cracks and he sits up behind you, one hand finding your lower back in an attempt to get closer to you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want space. You’ve given me space and it’s been the worst experience of my life. I just want you back. I want to hold your hand and kiss you and talk to you and be near you. I love you and you... you make me feel important. You make me feel loved.”

He has to fight his own tears as he speaks, and you sit silently in front of him, eyes focused on the carpet.

“For so much of my life, I felt alone, besides Bucky. I felt like I had no one and no one would love me. And then I went under and I woke up and... everything was different. I was a man out of time. I never thought I would ever have found someone who loves me as wholly as you do. And I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you need to change yourself.”

His arms wind around you and he pulls your back against his chest, slowly rocking you from side to side as you sniffle.

“You are everything I have ever wanted and more, sweetheart. I love you for everything you are and everything you do, and I’m so damn sorry I ever made you feel like you were too clingy. You’re perfect for me. Sometimes I think that you’re the reason why I survived it all. Was so that I could find you. You’re it for me.”

His words help to heal the wounds he caused, but what really does it is the meaning behind it. The love he’s pouring into every syllable he speaks is powerful enough for you to feel without even trying.

You know he regrets what he said. But, more importantly, you know he’s not Jeremy.

Steve loves you.

Slowly, you turn in his arms and look up at him, and his heart breaks even more when he sees the tears on your cheeks.

“If I’m ever too much, you gotta promise to let me know, okay?” You whisper.

He huffs out a weak laugh and shakes his head, squeezing you to his chest.

“You are never too much for me. You’re everything I could ever want or need and so much more. You’re perfect for me. And I’m gonna try my hardest to be good enough for you because I love you. I love you with my whole heart and soul.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you whisper, burying your face in his shoulder as he hugs you tightly.

And there on the bed in the dim morning light, Steve clings to you.

He clings to you like you’re his lifeline, like you’re the energy that keeps him going.

He clings to you, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

[purifiedclitoris69]

Don’t Hide

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x exhydra!reader

Slight angst and fluff/comfort

Summary: After a rough mission, you slip back into what your life use to be, what you were trained to do. Hiding away and spiraling Natasha’s there to comfort you.

The mission had gone sideways, but you’d survived worse. A nasty cut on your side and a few bruises wouldn’t stop you now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you carefully locked the bathroom door behind you. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, the whispers of Hydra training clawing at the back of your mind.

You’d been sharing this bathroom..a room, with Natasha for just a few months, the two of you navigating the delicate balance of a new relationship. It wasn’t easy—two broken people trying to make sense of something good for once—but you made it work. At least, most days. But tonight was different. You didn’t want her to see you like this.

You sat on the edge of the tub, carefully pressing a towel to the cut on your side, watching the blood seep through. Your hands shook, but you forced yourself to focus. Breathe. Patch it up and move on. That’s what they taught you. Never show weakness. Never ask for help.

In the quiet of the bathroom, the echoes of Hydra training were louder than usual. You weren’t *here*—you were back in those sterile rooms, under harsh lights, voices barking commands. You tried to shake it off, but the memories gripped you tighter. Your throat closed up, and suddenly, you couldn’t find your voice. The blood spilling out and covering your hands wasn’t your own anymore, it was that of your victims. The flashes of the cruel deaths you inflicted. The dozens of assassinations, slaughters.

Outside, Natasha had just returned from her own mission, tired but relieved to be back. She was looking forward to unwinding with you, maybe sharing quiet moments in the space you now called yours. But the minute she stepped into your shared room, she knew something was wrong.

The faint scent of blood hit her nose, and her eyes darted toward the small droplets leading to the bathroom. Her heart sank. You were hurt. Worse, you were hiding it from her.

She crossed the room swiftly, her own exhaustion forgotten. When she reached the bathroom door, she knocked, a firm but controlled sound. "Y/N?" Her voice was steady, though there was a hint of concern. "Can you open the door?"

You froze, your hands trembling more now. You didn’t want her to see this, to see you like this. Weak. Silent. You were meant to be a ruthless killer, the perfect soldier. You tried to stand, to clean up the blood before she could come in, but your knees buckled under the pressure.

"Y/N," Natasha continued, a slight edge and frustration creeping into her tone. "What happened out there, let me in.”

Your mind raced, Hydra’s voice overlapping with hers. Don’t let anyone in. Turn it off. Don’t show any vulnerability, any emotion, or you will be punished. You gritted your teeth, the walls around you closing in. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you couldn’t respond. The words were there, but they wouldn’t come.

Natasha, on the other side of the door, was getting worried. The silence on the other side was too familiar—the kind of silence born out of fear or pain. She knocked again, a little louder this time. "Y/N, open the door, right now, I’m serious. I need to see if you’re okay."

She wasn’t yelling, not really, but the firmness in her voice felt like too much. Like an order. Your chest tightened, and the panic swelled, pushing you deeper into the memories. The room blurred as your pulse raced. You messed up this mission, you didn’t follow orders, you should expect repercussions. All you could hear now were the commands from long ago: “stay quiet, fix it yourself, don’t be a liability.”

When Natasha heard the shallow, unsteady breaths through the door, she knew. This wasn’t just about the injury. She knew that sound—it was the sound of you slipping into something darker, something that haunted both of you. Her own frustration faded, replaced by the urgent need to help you.

She carefully jimmied the lock, opening the door slowly, not wanting to startle you. And when she saw you, sitting on the bathtub, bloodied and shaking, her heart broke. You were trying so hard to patch yourself up, but it was clear you were far from okay. The familiar signs of an episode setting in—shaky hands, heavy breathing, racing heart, visions of the past blending with the present.

Natasha crouched in front of you, her movements deliberate, not touching you but close enough for you to feel her presence. Her voice softened, calm but insistent. "Hey, it’s me. You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not back there. You’re here, with me."

Her words cut through the fog, but barely. Your hands were shaking too hard now, and the towel you were using to stop the bleeding slipped from your grip. Tears welled in your eyes, as you clenched your jaw hard enough to crack teeth, willing yourself to keep them at bay. You tried to tell her you were fine, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. The training, the trauma—it was all rushing back too fast.

Natasha sighed softly, guilt tugging at her for being stern earlier. "I’m sorry I got loud. I just… I needed to know you were okay."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, but Natasha saw them anyway. Her gaze softened even more, the concern etched into her face. She moved slowly, standing and carefully taking the towel from you. "Let me help, okay?"

You didn’t protest this time. The panic was still there, the memories still too close, but Natasha’s presence grounded you. She pressed the towel to your side gently, her touch reassuring, her focus entirely on you.

As she worked to clean the wound, she spoke softly, not to ask questions or pry, but just to remind you she was there. "I know you’re used to handling things on your own. But we’re a team now. You don’t have to hide this from me." She softly cleaned the cuts in your face too, applying bandages and ointments.

Her words made something inside you shift, a tiny crack in the armor you’d built. You nodded, your breath still shaky but steadier now. The room felt a little less suffocating with her by your side.

When she finished patching you up, Natasha finally met your gaze, cupping your face "We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

You nodded subtly, eyes still distant, you mumbled something inaudible.

she kissed the top of your head and held you against herself, “I love you.” she whispered so softly.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” you answered against her, bring your arms to wrap around her waist and hold her ever so gently.

The tension in your body begins to ease as she softly runs her fingers through your hair, her touch grounding you. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask you to talk, just sits with you, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Her voice is low and soothing as she hums softly, her hand tracing calming circles on your scalp. Slowly, the chaos in your mind begins to fade, the safety of her touch allowing you to breathe a little easier. She stays like that, holding you through the storm, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

For the first time that night, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to face this battle alone.

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

[shslbunnylover]

Hi honey. How about a Wanda fic where R comes back after a long mission and since Wanda got so used to not having R around she's kinda ignoring her. Angst with a happy ending

★ ★ ★ Time Goes By ★ ★ ★

Character: Wanda Maximoff

Summary: When you finally return home after a month-long mission, you realize your girlfriend has started to get used to life without you

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of NSFW, some crying, mentions of abandonment and anxiety,

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay!! Thank you for the request <3

Word Count: 3.63k

Being an avenger wasn't easy, not in the least. There was the constant threat of death, the looming amounts of paparazzi just *begging* to get an interview with their favorite superhero, and your personal least favorite, being away from your loved ones.

You absolutely adored your girlfriend Wanda, a fellow avenger, and when you found out you wouldn't get to see her for at least a month, you were heartbroken to be ripped away from the woman you cherished dearly just in the name of protecting some city on a whole other continent.

Wanda was equally as heartbroken, but she understood, having been a part of the avengers longer than you meant she had plenty of experience when it came to long missions that meant staying in a whole new environment.

“I know baby, I know, but you'll be okay! I'll try and text you everyday to wish you goodnight, and I'll try and text you every morning to wake you up,” She promised you, holding you in her arms.

“I know- But it's in Europe, it'll be a whole other timezone!” You cried.

“We'll make it work Dekta, we'll make it work,”

You were nothing short of a baby for the rest of the week before you left, never wanting to leave your loving girlfriend's side no matter what she did.

But the night before you left, you were held in her arms from the moment you and her got home from work, her manicured nails scratching at your scalp as the two of you watched your favorite sitcom together.

You knew she liked to hold you tightly while watching your favorite sitcoms due to her trauma, as if she was afraid to let you go in fear of that horrid day happening again.

She held you tightly because she knew that's the way her parents died, cuddled up on the couch. She wasn't losing another person in her life, and if another bomb hit your apartment, she wanted to die with you in her arms and her in yours.

She tried to get rid of the thoughts that made her behave this way for years, but subconsciously the redhead would forever cling to you when you watched these sitcoms, as it brought her comfort she wasn't even aware of receiving.

As Malcolm in the Middle played on the TV, you looked up at her, her green eyes sparkling as she watched the TV.

God she's beautiful.

“Wands…?” You murmured.

“Yes Dekta?” Wanda looked down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as her hands pulled you even closer to her.

“You're not gonna forget about me, right? When I come back everything will be back to normal?” You asked, a tear welling up in your eye at the mere thought of losing her because you were gone for too long.

Wanda grabbed the remote, pausing the TV before pulling you fully onto her lap, allowing for you to bury your head in the crook of your neck.

“Oh moya lyubov, I will never forget you,” Wanda frowned, kissing your lips softly as she looked at you, her eyes genuine as she pulled you out from her neck.

“I know, but I…” You trailed off, biting your lip as you shrugged.

“I know,” She nodded. “I won't forget you,”

You looked up at her with eyes that were glazed over with tears, and you attempted to hold them back, but a few finally escaped.

A shaky breath left your lips, and you wiped the droplets out from under your eyelids.

“You better not,” You mumbled.

Wanda looked at you, kissing your lips gently.

“I wouldn't even dream of it,”

You sniffled, holding onto Wanda for the rest of the night until you eventually fell asleep.

She carried you up to your shared bedroom after she had finished another two episodes of the sitcom, tucking you and herself under the covers of your bed.

“Wanda…” You slurred in your drowsy state. “I don't wanna go…”

Wanda sighed, her eyes falling to your sleeping form in sadness.

“I know moya lyubov, I know, I don't want you to leave either,” The redhead ran her fingers through your hair, twirling some of your locks around her pointer finger.

You didn't respond, falling back into your unconsciousness, leaving Wanda to hold you in her arms.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” She murmured into your hair, shutting her eyes to join you in your sleep.

When she had awoken the next morning, she immediately noticed the lack of warmth in her arms.

She made her way to the kitchen, seeing the plate of pancakes you had made for her before your departure to your station in Europe.

The redheaded witch sat down at the table, quickly cutting up the pancakes so they didn't get cold.

The pancakes you made were delicious, and once she finished, she leaned back, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face.

She slid it across the bottom half of her face, pausing as she felt something a bit sticky being wiped across her cheek.

Her hands pulled the napkin back, and her eyes softened as she saw the clear shimmer of your lipgloss on the napkin.

She frowned, an exhale of something in between loneliness and sadness leaving her.

This was going to be a long month without you.

The days dragged on slower than either of you had wanted or even anticipated, your separation by the fault of physical distance causing you both to crave each other's voice and touch.

The mission itself wasn't much better either, you were mainly just put as a security guard at your post. You didn't even understand why you were here. You hadn't done anything that required any true effort like disabling any sort of terrorist from the gang you were sent out here to help catch.

‘God I can't wait to go home,’ You thought to yourself, leaning against the wall as you held the polaroid you always carried around with you in your hands.

The picture was one that you and Wanda had taken at some amusement park you had passed by on a walk and decided to try out, and on your way home after your time there you took a picture with your girlfriend on the machine provided.

She was kissing your cheek, and you were too busy laughing to notice that the picture had been taken, catching you two in your most genuine moment.

You smiled at the polaroid, putting it back in your wallet before tucking it in your bra so no one could take it without you knowing.

After the weeks of your mission had passed by, you woke up on the day you were to head to the airport with a smile on your face. After what had felt like ages without your loving girlfriend, you were ready to go home and see her more than anything.

You checked your phone, shrugging at the lack of any messages on your home screen. Wanda was 5 hours behind you back in New York, and you were used at this point to not being able to talk or call at all for days on end, but that's why you were so excited to go back home.

You loaded up your suitcases, fixing up the free hotel room provided for you in exchange for your service and work in the country.

Getting on the airplane, you sent a message to your girlfriend before turning your phone on airplane mode.

‘I’m heading home Wands, come and get me soon ❤️’

When Wanda saw that as she woke up, she smiled softly, excited to see her love for the first time in weeks.

She slowly pulled herself out of bed, sliding on a black blazer and khaki pants with a white button up shirt underneath.

She grabbed her keys, walking out of the apartment to her car.

You had landed about 30 minutes prior to Wanda getting out of bed and leaving to pick you up, but thanks to TSA regulations, you were delayed from walking to the pickup area of the airport for around another 45 minutes, giving the green-eyed woman plenty of time to arrive.

Once your luggage had been checked by the private agents assigned to avengers flying to their destination, who somehow looked more serious than the actual avengers themselves (Thanks Tony, you make the avengers look very professional), you finally walked to the front of the airport.

Your eyes scanned over the sea of people that were in the building, but they finally paused when they found the familiar sight of your girlfriend's fiery red hair.

“Wanda!” You beamed, almost running over to the older woman with your luggage in your hands.

When she heard your voice, Wanda turned in the direction she saw you coming in.

“Y/N!” She ran up and hugged you. “Oh moya lyubov, I'm so happy you got home safe!”

“I'm so happy to see you my dear,” You hugged her back tightly, your hands finding their way to her cheeks before you kissed her softly.

Wanda kissed you back, her eyes filling with tears.

“I'm so happy to see you too, any longer without you and I wouldn't have been able to handle it,” She separated her mouth from yours, darting her tongue over her lips as if attempting to savor the taste of you, as if she'd never taste you again.

The way she held you in her arms made you feel like you were on top of the world and nothing could go wrong.

But that would all change by morning.

When you woke up after a long night where Wanda couldn't keep her hands off of you and you couldn't keep yourself off of her, you noticed that there was no warmth on your back and around your waist.

“Wands…?” You slurred awake, sitting up and noticing that she had already woken up and gotten out of bed.

You checked the bed, assuming you must have slept in and Wanda had already given you her morning cuddles, but you saw that it was 7:30, the time her alarm usually went off.

Wanda would usually spend 10 minutes cuddling you and stroking your hair in the mornings, waking herself up and usually leaving you with a kiss on your cheek which would then wake you up.

You frowned, but attempted to shake the feeling of abandonment out of your head.

“Maybe she's making breakfast?” You asked yourself, standing up and throwing a robe over your body.

You walked over to the kitchen, not seeing your girlfriend or smelling anything that she might have made.

“Wanda?” You looked around.

No response.

You began to panic, walking to the living room where you saw your girlfriend reading a book while listening to Malcolm in the Middle in the background.

You frowned, calling out for her.

“Wanda?” You repeated.

Finally, she turned around, tilting her head.

“Yes Dekta?” She asked.

You couldn't spit what you wanted to say out, and you just fiddled with your fingers.

“Good morning…” You stuttered out.

Wanda just nodded at you before turning her head back to her book and listening to the sitcom you two were supposed to watch *together*.

You felt a surge of anger and sadness being sent up your spine. Why had Wanda been so loving the night before, but now treated you as if you weren't even there? Had she actually forgotten about you?

You walked back to the kitchen, pulling out a bowl and pouring some cereal into it (and then added milk if that's what you like).

“Maybe she's just tired Y/N,” You mumbled to yourself. “Last night was a lot…but…she never acts like this, even after nights like that,”

You dug your spoon into your fruity pebbles, sighing as you just spun the cereal around the white bowl with the metal utensil.

You tried to get some of the not-so-kind thoughts out of your head, and you frowned even deeper as you lifted your spoon to your mouth, swallowing the cereal before putting the spoon back down into the bowl.

You sniffled, putting your head in your hands.

You weren't sure *why* this was affecting you so much, but it was, and that's what mattered right now.

Standing up, you brought the bowl of cereal to the living room, sitting next to Wanda and leaning your head on her shoulder jokingly.

“Wandss…” You kept eating your cereal, hoping to get her attention somehow.

“Hmm?” She didn't even look up from her book.

“Did I do something?” You asked, sitting up now, continuing to eat your cereal.

“Hm? Oh no Dekta, you didn't,” The green-eyed woman slid her finger tip across her tongue before she flipped the page, tilting her head to the left so she could read better.

You frowned, beginning to get ticked off.

“Are you sure?”

Wanda still refused to look up from the words on the page, actually not hearing you, or at least choosing not to.

You scoffed, standing up once you and finished the cereal before putting it in the sink.

You returned to your shared bedroom, and you pulled out your computer, deciding to play a video game to calm your…well you weren't sure what you were feeling. There was a lot of anger, confusion, and definitely a lot of sadness in there as well. The inability to put an exact word on what you were feeling along with the inability to distinguish what was going on definitely had you anxious as well.

After about an hour or two passed, you closed out of the video game, putting your computer on your desk before deciding to clean up a bit.

With everything that was going on with Wanda and her attitude towards you, combined with the remaining anxiety still bubbling over from the mission, you were doing everything you could to keep your mind distracted. You felt that even though the mission was over, you still were nervous about it and whether you did good or not. It seemed like that if Wanda kept up the isolating behavior, you would tip over the edge of a breakdown. You didn't want to tell her about the leftover anxiety last night, because you didn't really need to. You were distracted and with the person that stood as your comfort.

But now with that stability gone, you knew that it was only a matter of time before you lost your happy front.

The room was clean and laundry was fully down in a matter of 4 hours, and you only noticed just how much time had passed when you started to smell her making lunch.

Your eyes lit up, and you pushed the laundry basket underneath the machine before running down the stairs, freezing when you saw your girlfriend eating all by herself.

“Wands, I didn't know you were making lunch…!” You said awkwardly, walking over to the table.

Wanda licked her lips awkwardly, and she bit her lip before putting her fork down.

“Oh um…I'm sorry Dekta, I only made one plate,” She said awkwardly.

“Oh…” You trailed off.

“You can still sit with me if you want, I'm not going to stop you,” The green-eyed witch lifted her fork to her mouth.

You sighed a bit under your breath.

“Alright,” You sat across from her, attempting to make conversation, but only being left with a nod or just complete silence.

The rest of the week wasn't much better, as Wanda had continued this same behavior.

She would make breakfast, lunch and even dinner all for herself. She wouldn't cuddle you in the morning, and she wouldn't even include you in her activities like she always used to before you left.

It was another one of those times where she had left you home by yourself with your dog, Sparky, who sat comfortably in your lap as you stroked his hair.

“You think Wanda still loves me, Sparky?” You asked the fluffy dog who laid there curled up on your thighs as you played another video game, this one being the game you had been trying to teach Wanda how to play so you could play together.

The dog simply licked your leg, his wet slobbery tongue grazing across your skin causing a small smile to break through onto your lips.

“Arf!”

You laughed, scratching the Jack Russell terrier behind his ears.

“You're such a good boy, aren't you?” You chuckled, laughing more as Sparky twirled around in your lap, chasing after his tail.

You put down the controller after you had paused the game, and you hoisted Sparky up to hold him up in your arms.

“I love her so much, and she seemed so happy to see me when I got home, why has everything changed? She promised that nothing would…” You vented to the creature in your arms, your fingers caressing Sparky’s fur from the top of his head down to his tail.

You waited for a few moments, as if giving Sparky the floor to talk, even though he obviously couldn't.

“Yeah, I know I was gone for a whole month, but she promised me everything would still be the same when I came home. I know it was hard for her, but it was for me too,” You turned around, leaning against the armrest of the couch.

Once again you let the dog give his imaginary input.

“I've just been feeling so ignored, like she got used to life without me. She even started watching our show by herself, and she forgets that I'm even there sometimes!” You sniffled, beginning to tear up from all of the emotions washing over you.

The anxiety of the mission, the coldness and complete lack of your existence being acknowledged from your lover, and the adjustments you were still trying to get used to had all begun to finally take their toll on you.

But just as you began to cry your heart out for the first time in months, you heard the front door in front of the living room creek.

You shot your head in the direction of the sounds, and you were shocked to see your girlfriend back so soon.

“W-Wands-? How long have you been there?” You stuttered, sitting up and placing Sparky on the floor so he could run off and resign from his position as your therapist.

“About 5 minutes…” Your girlfriend admitted.

You wiped your eyes, standing up.

“So…so you heard all of that…didn't you?” Your voice wavered.

Wanda nodded, her beautiful green eyes flooding with tears.

“I'm so sorry Dekta, I didn't mean to make you feel so left out…” Her manicured hands, still having chips of the red nail polish you put on them before you left for that God awful mission, lifted up to cup your face.

You let out a small cry at the touch. It felt so alien yet so…so comforting and familiar.

“Oh, oh Dekta, come here,” Wanda pulled you into a tight hug, massaging your scalp with her fingers. “I'm so sorry my love. The month had been so long without you, and I just…I got used to you not being around. But it wasn't a good feeling, it felt so lonely,” She explained with tears pouring out of her green orbs.

“I know, I just- I felt like you forgot about me just like I was worried about,” You cried.

“Oh no baby…I couldn't ever forget you, I just got so used to having you around, and I still felt so miserable from going so long without you in my arms,” Wanda cooed, sitting you down on her lap as she sat on a chair.

You wrapped your arms around her waist like the needy thing you were, and she held you until you both stopped crying (although you cried for much longer than she did).

“I…” Wanda began, biting her lip, looking down at the floor.

You tilted her head up, sniffling.

“Go on,”

She took a deep breath, exhaling softly as you wiped her cheeks free of her tears.

“I've lost so many people in my life…and I've had to become accustomed quickly to them not being there anymore. I was terrified of losing you, and I had already accepted the fact that I would. So when you came home…I tried to knock myself out of the mindset that you weren't here and with me anymore. But no matter what I did, it didn't work until I saw you crying here with Sparky,” The love of your life explained, her hands gripping onto you with a shaky grasp the more she talked. “It’s not an excuse but I-”

You cut her off with a deep kiss, sliding your tongue around here as your hands grasped onto hers as they remained on your hips.

The kiss lasted for about a minute, and Wanda looked at you with wide eyes as the two of you finally pulled apart for air.

“Y/N…” She panted, her digits loosening her grip on your soft skin.

“I forgive you Wanda…” You blurted.

The witch's eyes lit up in a mix of relief and joy.

“You do?”

You nodded.

“I do,”

Her perfect smile returned to her ever perfect face, and it only made you smile back.

“I love you, Y/N,” Wanda looked at you with pure adoration. “More than life itself,”

You chuckled at how soft and sappy she was.

“I love you too, Wanda,”

She pulled you back into her embrace, and the longer she held you, the time that went by without you dissipated from her memory.

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

[midastouch013]

Scars and All

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have been dating for almost a year, and so what happens when you finally find out why things never get steamy

Warnings: Insecurity, Scars, Flashbacks of Redroom. Super soft Nat.

---

You and Natasha had been dating for close to a year now, having moved in a month ago to the floor Tony had given the both of you happy to see his, and you quote ' favourite spider' so in love, and though your relationship was incredible in so many ways, there was one aspect that sometimes caused a bit of frustration. Every time things got a little bit steamy, Natasha would freeze up. And every time it left you confused, more than before with every occurrence.

It happened again tonight. You were tangled up in each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss, hands exploring, when Natasha suddenly pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, your heart pounding. You were frustrated, sure, but you respected Natasha enough to honor her wishes. With a heavy sigh, you pulled away, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice.

She nodded, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… not feeling it right now."

You couldn't help but feel disappointed, but you didn't want to show it. Instead, you forced a small smile and said, "Okay. I'm just gonna… take a cold shower then."

Without waiting for a response, you got up and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Natasha alone on the bed.

The cold water did little to wash away your disappointment. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration, unable to understand why Natasha kept pulling away.

After what felt like an eternity under the icy spray, you finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As you dried off and got dressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Natasha lost in her own world, her eyes unfocused as she begged someone she had only told you about once, Madame B, not to hit her.

Your heart broke at the sight. You knew Natasha was reliving a moment from her past, a nightmare from her time in the Red Room. Without a second thought, you crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight hug, hoping to ground her in the present, having it done many times previously.

"Nat, it's me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're with me."

Slowly, Natasha's breathing began to steady, and the tension in her body started to ease. She clung to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck as she struggled to break free from the memories that haunted her.

You held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance until she finally began to relax in your arms.

After Natasha falls asleep in your arms, you gently tuck her under the covers, making sure she's comfortable. With a lingering glance, you quietly slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You make your way downstairs and pull out your phone, dialing Yelena's number. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she says, her voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to explain what just happened with Natasha.

"Not really," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Nat had a flashback… to the Red Room, I think."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Yelena speaks again. "Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping," you reply. "But… I don't know what to do, Yelena. Every time things start to get… intimate, she freezes up. I can't shake the feeling that it's connected somehow."

There's a thoughtful silence before Yelena speaks again. "Does my sestra shower with the door closed?"

You frown, confused by the seemingly random question. "Uh, yeah, she does. Why?"

Yelena hums thoughtfully. "And does she ever… mention anything about about her post-missions "

Your heart skips a beat as the pieces start to click into place. "No, she doesn't even let me see her till she's in pajamas. Why?"

Yelena lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I think… Y/n, you're pretty smart, so I'm surprised I have to be telling you this, but my sister is insecure about something. And maybe, just maybe, that's why she keeps pulling away."

"But what insecurity?" you question," She-"

Before you can say anything else, Yelena interrupts you. "Sorry, I have to go. Kate's calling me. Just… be there for her, okay? She needs you."

After Yelena hangs up, more incidents with Natasha flash through your mind. Little moments that, when looked at together, begin to form a pattern. And suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Natasha's insecurity is about her scars.

Just as you're connecting the dots, Natasha comes downstairs to grab something to eat. Wordlessly, you grab her by the hips and lift her up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals, trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

Ignoring her protests, you carry her back upstairs to your room. Once there, you gently set her down on the edge of the bed, ignoring her playful protests.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You don't answer right away. Instead, you kneel down on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"Tasha, I love you," you begin, your voice steady. "And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know… I know that something happened tonight, something that triggered a flashback. And I think… I think I know what it is."

Natasha's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she looks like she might bolt. But then she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, squeezing her hands gently while taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. "Natasha, do you not like your scars?" you ask gently.

Natasha's defenses go up immediately, and she tries to deflect the situation with humor. "What, these old things?" she says, gesturing to her scars with a forced smirk. "Just battle wounds, nothing to worry about."

But you're firm in your resolve. You don't let her deflect this time. "Nat, please," you say, your voice pleading. "I need you to be honest with me."

She sighs, the forced smile slipping from her face. "Fine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you want the truth? I hate them, okay? I hate the way they look. I hate what they remind me of."

Your heart breaks at her words, but you keep your voice steady. "Why, Nat? Why do you hate them so much?"

And then she confesses, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid that when you see them, you'll finally realize that you're dating a monster. A cold-blooded murderer. I'm afraid that you'll look at me and see nothing but a killer. And I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm afraid that these scars will scare you away. That I don't look… sexy with my scars and all."

Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and you feel your heart breaking all over again.

You feel a surge of anger and hurt at Natasha's admission. How could she think of herself like that? And how could she think that you would ever see her that way?

"You really think that?" you say, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. "That I would see you like that? That I would ever think of you as a monster? God, Natasha, how could you even think that?"

Natasha flinches at your words, and for a moment, you regret the harshness of your tone. But then you take a deep breath and soften your voice.

"I'm sorry, It wasn't supposed to sound so rude, but… I get it, Nat," you continue, your voice gentle now. "I get that you're scared. And I understand why you feel that way. Even if I've not been through what you've been through, I'd like to think that I get it. But you need to know that I love you, scars and all. And I would never, ever think of you as anything less than amazing."

You feel Natasha's arms tighten around you, and you know that she's listening, really listening, to what you're saying.

"And another thing," you add, your voice firm now. "You need to stop calling yourself those hateful things. You are not a monster, Natasha. You are not a cold-blooded murderer. You are a hero, you are the role model to millions of kids out there, and you're my girlfriend. There's no way in hell could you be what you claim to be. Don't you ever forget that."

Natasha doesn't say anything in response, and for a moment, you worry that you've pushed her too far. But then she pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for… for loving me, scars and all."

You shush her with a gentle finger to her lips. " What have I told you about that?" you ask in a tutting tone.

She chuckled breathily, a faint smile on her face " Never thank you unless I don't want dinner that night"

You look into Natasha's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and reassurance. Without saying a word, you lift her (Well yours, but anything that was yours was hers) t-shirt and leant in to press a gentle kiss to one of her scars, then another, and another, until you'd kissed each one.

Each kiss is an act of reassurance, a silent declaration of how beautiful and attractive you find her scars. And with each kiss, you feel Natasha's tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

When you finally pull back, Natasha is looking at you with tear-filled eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I love you" she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

" I love you more"

"Willing to bet on it?"

--

[runawrites-blog]

Knee Deep In The Passenger Seat (Deadpool x Reader)

Summary: You and Wade are trying very hard to keep your relationship casual, to stay friends while sleeping with one another, but things slowly start to drift away from being casual. (Female Reader) Word Count: 4,924 Warnings: SMUT (Minors Do Not Interact). Explicit Sexual Content. Oral. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Light Fighting. Mentions of Stalking (NOT between Wade and the Reader). No Y/N. No Deadpool and Wolverine Spoilers. A/N: I'm aware that this is a wlw song but I thought it fit so well, so please bear with me here. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58203475 NO SPOILERS.

---

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you’re eating me out Is it casual now?

It was supposed to be casual. It had always been supposed to be casual. But after months of casual dates you two had gone on under the guise of friendly get-togethers, after countless sexual encounters that had slowly merged from chasing release to intimate explorations of each others’ bodies, after going from seeing each other once every other week to being at one another’s places every other day, it didn’t feel as casual anymore.

You had noticed this before because you’d always been observant, and had seen you two progress away from being casual one encounter at the time. But it had taken you until now to realise that your feelings for Wade had changed, too. As he peered up at you through half-lidded eyes, face buried between your legs, you realised you may have fallen for him. When he saw your expression he pulled back, lower face covered in your juices and panting heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You quickly shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ve just been lost in thought, don’t worry.”

“I’m putting my whole Deadpoolussy into eating you out and you’re lost in thought?” He asked in a faked offended tone. “I can’t believe it!”

You chuckled at his antics and reached out to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry, alright? Keep going, you’re doing such a good job. I’ll pay attention to you now.”

“I fucking hope so!”

Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now?

No more than two weeks after you had realised your true feelings for Wade his roommate had invited you over for dinner. According to Wade, Al had encountered you briefly so many times she wanted to actually meet you. And that was how you’d ended up sitting at his kitchen table, the three of you eating take-out with Al and Wade bickering back and forth to each other.

“I invite your girl over and you call me an old cunt? No manners with you!”

“You are an old cunt!”

“And you’re a little bitch but you don’t see me calling you that, do you now?” She bickered back at him, shaking her head and tutting at his grumbling before she turned back to you. “Is he like this with you, too? Don’t be afraid to put him in his place once in a while!”

Their bickering had dragged on for so long that it had almost lulled you into a small trance and you startled a little when you were addressed. “Huh? Oh yeah, he’s like this with me, too. But don’t worry I know how to shut him up.”

“Good.” Al praised you before pointing her fork at Wade. “Treat your girlfriend with some respect, Wade!”

This was definetely not casual. You two had never labeled your relationship and now Al was calling you Wade’s girlfriend. And you were trying your hardest to ignore the flutter in your stomach at those words. Next to you, Wade shook his head and laughed a little, putting a hand on your thigh.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Al. What we got is casual.” He explained, squeezing your thigh under the table and looked back at you. “Right?”

“Right.”

I know what you tell your friends It’s casual, if it’s casual now Then, baby, get me off again If it’s casual, it’s casual now

“Hey, Yukio!”

“Hey, Wade!” She waved back just as excitedly before she grinned happily at you. “Hey, Wade’s girlfriend!”

Wade chuckled at that and touched your waist, pulling you close. “Yukio, she’s not my girlfriend. We got something casual going on and I think labels like that would make it way too uncasual.”

“Uncasual is not a word, you dumb fuck.” Negasonic rolled her eyes before nodding toward you. “And leave it to a dumbass like you to not make it official when he’s found someone that puts up with him.”

“She doesn’t mind, you twerp.” Wade replied and squeezed your hip a little tighter before looking back at you. “Right, Hon?”

“Sure.”

You pointedly ignored the frown overtaking Wade’s features as he heard your tone of voice because you knew you hadn’t sounded as casual as you’d wanted to. When Colossus came in, greeting you two you quickly ducked away from Wade to give the other mutant a pat on the shoulder, greeting him with a small smile.

“So, you called us over because you needed our help.” You stated, feeling Wade’s gaze practically burn into the back of you head as you looked up at Colossus. “What can we do for you?”

“Glad you ask.” Colossus said and stretched out his arm to show you where to go. “You two can follow me and I’ll show you.”

“Perfect!”

Colossus left and you followed him, silently cursing yourself for how you’d failed at keeping this casual, for how you’d now probably outed your feelings for Wade to him. But you kept following Colossus, glad that whatever he needed help with would at least keep you and Wade occupied for now. Behind you Wade happily said goodbye to Yukio and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweet way he always interacted with her and how caring he was toward Negasonic, as well. After saying goodbye to the other teen you heard his footsteps picking up speed as he followed you.

Dumb love, I love being stupid Dream of us in a year Maybe we’d have an apartment

This was bad. Wade slowly sat up in his bed, swallowing thickly as his eyes flicked back to you, fast asleep next to him. He knew it was less than casual to let you stay after having sex but he’d always been one for rash decisions and when he’d had you panting in his arms, revelling in post-orgasmic bliss, he hadn’t really thought twice about letting you stay -- not that he often thought twice about things.

Now he was sitting in the dark, trying to make sense of his dream while the subject of said dream lay beside him. And really, a dream of you two living together in domestic bliss seemed way too Disney-esque for him but he couldn’t help but let himself enjoy the thought for a few seconds before he caught himself. There was a reason he’d wanted to keep this casual. As self sacrifical and overdramatic as it made him sound, he knew you were too good for him and the last thing he wanted was for you to settle for him.

Wade’s self depreciating thoughts were interrupted when you turned around to wrap your arms around his waist and he felt as though he was in a sappy romcom, about to get whisked of his glass slippers by his prince charming -- or in other words he felt happy. Gingerly, he lowered himself back down and wrapped his arms around you.

This was supposed to be casual. And he didn’t know why he couldn’t keep it that way.

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you’re eating me out Is it casual now?

Your pretty eyes flicked up to look at him, gaze full of adoration, and Wade felt his insides turn the way only a knife in his stomach could make him feel. Cursing under his breath as you bobbed your head along his length, one hand squeezing his balls just the right way and the other grabbing onto his thigh. And now the tables had turned because he was so deep in his head that he couldn’t even properly enjoy this.

You gave him a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing as you started moving faster, obviously trying to get a reaction out of him and Wade brought a hand down to grasp at your hair, moaning lowly as he tried to will his thoughts away.

“You’re so good at this, fuck.”

A proud expression overcame your features as best as it could with a dick in your mouth and Wade groaned when he hit the back of your throat. Your hand let go of his thigh and he watched as you tightly squeezed your left thumb in your hand in what he knew was an attempt to fight of your gag reflex -- he’d have to ask you sometime whether or not that actually worked.

“You’re so fucking good at this, like you were made for it, like two American and one Japanese tourists were made for being sewn ass to mouth to-- to each other!”

A small amused huff of air through your nose made Wade look down, finding you rolling your eyes with such an affectionate expression, like you always did when he made a dumb joke, that he felt his chest clench more than his hole did when he saw you naked. And in that moment he realised what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now?

“Remind me again why your mom invited me over for brunch?”

“I was on the phone with her and I needed to get going because you were waiting for me. I made the mistake of saying that I was meeting Wade.” You explained, parking your car by your mother’s place. “Now she thinks we’re dating and I can’t stand her bugging me about meeting you anymore.”

Wade didn’t even find it in himself to correct you, to tell you that you two were in fact not dating and that, coupled with the fact that he was actually going to have brunch, made him feel like he was in a cheesy romcom and not an action movie. Instead he patted you on the leg and then got out of the car, waiting for you to lead the way.

Your mother seemed excited to meet him, pulling him into a bone crushing hug which was almost tight enough that it made him happy to have regenerative powers. But he had to admit that the brunch was nice. The food was good, your mother was friendly and never commented on his looks or his vocabulary. And when your hand came down on his tigh which he knew was to reprimand him for a particularly inappropriate joke by squeezing it in warning he couldn’t help reaching down and taking it. Yet he pointedly ignored the look that you gave him.

“You have an interesting humour, Wade.” Your mother coughed, having chocked on her drink because of his joke. “But my daughter isn’t any better, so I guess you’re a nice fit.”

“Mom, I told you, Wade and I are not dating.”

“By the sound of it you’re doing all sort of less innocent things with him, he holds your hand, he pulls back your chair for you and he comes to have brunch with your mother.” She said, amusement on her features as she shook her head. “And you young people nowadays don’t call that dating or a relationship?”

“Mom, don’t start with this again.”

“I won’t, don’t worry, Pumpkin.”

“Oh, I’m so using that nickname against you.” Wade joked, giving you a grin and his smile only grew when you rolled your eyes affectionately. “I love finding new ways to annoy you.”

“I’ll get you back for that, Wade.” You smirked before turning back to your mother with a small smile. “But thank you for dropping it, Mom. We’re not in a relationship and that’s that on that.”

“I just wonder what else you two would have to do until this would constitute a relationship.”

It’s hard being casual When my favorite bra lives in your dresser

“Come back to bed, Hon.”

“I have things to do.” You chastised Wade weakly, averting eye contact with him because you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him for long if you turned around to look at him, splayed out on his bed with his legs spread invitingly. “Have you seen my bra?”

“The one you were wearing when you came over? No, I haven’t.” Wade shrugged before pointing at his dresser. “But you got another one stashed in my dresser.”

Once more you were reminded of how quickly you two were leaving the territory of a casual relationship, of friends with benefits, because when you opened the drawer you saw that not only was it one of your bras but that it was your favourite bra. You only realised that you had frozen when you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind and a head came down on your shoulder.

“If you’re just going to stand there like a pony figurine in a mason jar you might as well come back to bed.” Wade joked, leaning down to nip at your neck. “And then I can really make you feel like a figurine in a mason jar.”

“If you make one more cum jar joke, I will kick you in the balls.”

“You’re grinning as you’re threatening me.” Wade laughed softly, poking his finger into your side accusatory. “Don’t even pretend that you don’t find me funny.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately at his antics you resigned yourself to the fate of Wade dragging you back to bed. Maybe being in love with him wasn’t so bad, maybe it was fine to feel not only aroused by his touch but also feel your stomach flutter. If only you had the balls to tell him how you felt.

And it’s hard being casual When I’m on the phone talking down your sister

Unbeknownst to you, Wade was having the exact same crisis that came to and acme the night you two had to help your sister. She’d called in a panic, crying on the phone and going on about how her ex-boyfriend had broken into her apartment, demanding her back, and how she had just about managed to lock herself in her bedroom. Before you could assure her that you were on your way, she screamed on the other end of the line, screeching about how her boyfriend was trying to break down the door.

The line went dead and you let the phone sink into your lap, eyes looking up at Wade’s concerned face in the armchair opposite you. You didn’t let him get a word out before you were on your feet, rushing to put your shoes on. He came after you, pulling on his boots and asking you what was happening as you made your way down the stairs to your car. Quickly, you explained the situation and he grabbed your wrist before you could get into the car.

“Let go of me. I need to help my sister.”

“I know and you will. But I’m coming with you.” He said, shushing you with a finger to your face when you opened your mouth to argue. “When you’re hooking up with the Merc with a Mouth, you get the mouth but also the mercenary. Let’s go!”

Within the next ten minutes, you were at your sister’s place and as soon as you’d made it to her door, Wade was pushing you aside to kick it down. You found her ex-boyfriend Hunter by the door to the bedroom, hammering on it and you watched as Wade marched over. He grabbed Hunter around the throat and pulled him away, slamming him into a nearby wall. It didn’t even occur to Wade that beating up your sister’s stalker and making sure you both were safe was the furthest thing from casual he could think of because Hunter grabbed onto his arms in anger and startled him from his thoughts.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’ll be the last fucking thing you see if you don’t leave that woman alone!” He snapped at Hunter and you almost gasped in surprise when Wade pulled a knife from hs pocket, flicking it open and holding it to the other man’s cheek. “Go on, test me!”

Snapping out of your stupor you rushed over to the bedroom door and knocked on it. “Sis, it’s me. Open up the door. Wade’s got Hunter under control, so you’re safe.”

When your sister opened the door, you saw the tears running down her face and you immediately drew her into a tight embrace. Hunter tried to get lose but Wade flicked the knife around and stabbed him in the thigh, making the man howl out in pain. You turned your sister around, getting your body in between her and Hunter.

“Will you leave her alone or do you want to find out where else I can shove my knife?”

“Get off me!”

“Not good enough!” Wade slammed Hunter down to the floor, his knee pressing him down. “Hon, tell him that I’m not joking around. Tell him what I did to the last guy who thought it would be a good idea to stalk and harass innocent women!”

Holding your crying sister tighter you fixed Hunter with a determined stare. “I can’t tell you the details because I don’t want to traumatise my poor sister but let’s just say it wasn’t pretty and that guy isn’t pretty anymore, either!”

“I’m sorry.” Hunter cried out, face covered in blood and tears in his eyes. “I won’t talk to her again, I promise. Please, believe me!”

Wade pulled Hunter off the floor and dragged him to the door, throwing him into the hallway and making him collide with the opposite wall. “If I hear that you as much as looked at her again, I will come and find you. You don’t want that.”

Hunter nodded and scrambled off the floor, running down the hallway and Wade slammed the door shut, pulling up a chair to hook under the handle and barricade it. Then he turned back to you and your sister, finding her still crying and you trying to comfort her.

“I’m being serious. If he harasses you again, call me. Your sister can give you my number.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’m so glad my sister’s boyfriend is a damn mercenary.”

Wade caught your eyes for a second and shook his head. “I’m not her boyfriend. This is a casual thing.”

“But you must have already been staying at her place to-- to even know what was going on and-- and you came over with her to help. How is that casual?”

“It just is!”

The look of hurt that crossed your face wasn’t lost on Wade but before he could speak up you did. “What’s your problem?”

“How can we keep this casual when I’m going to brunch with your mom, blind Al invites you over for dinner every-- every week, when you keep clothes at my place, when-- when I can’t stop thinking about the way you look at me?” He rambled, catching himself a little too late and shaking his head. “Fuck, I can’t do this anymore!”

You stared at Wade for a few long seconds, a range of emotions passing your face, from hurt over anger to hopelessness, and he felt terrible for making you feel like that. He was in love with you, as cheesy as it sounded, and he’d made you feel so horrible. This was the exact reason why he couldn’t be with you. He made you feel like that.

“What are you saying we should do?”

“I need some space.”

And I try to be the chill girl That holds her tongue and gives you space

Giving Wade space was the hardest thing you’d done in a while, harder than taking down a crime syndicate, harder than fighting bad guys that wanted to take over the world and harder than stopping an alien invasion. Everything reminded you of him, from the spot on your kitchen counter he’d always sit on, over the way your passenger seat was always all the way back to allow for either of you to sit in the leg room and the shoes he’d left in your doorway the last time he’d come over, to his smell that still lingered on the pillow he used when he slept at your place.

You were so in love with Wade and being without him was tearing you apart.

So on a particularly lonely evening, with rain pouring down outside your windows, two weeks after you two had separated, you called him up. You tried to sound casual as you suggested coming over for sex, but you knew he would likely see right through you. As casual as you tried to make this hangout sound you knew the weight behind it. But he still agreed to come over, his voice sounding as casual as ever as he said he’d be over in half an hour.

Your doorbell rang only ten minutes later.

And this whole thing started again, the two of you sleeping with each other, promising one another that this time it would be casual because neither of you wouldn’t want to ruin your friendship. But you knew it was a damn lie and you just waited on how long it would take for things to fall apart this time around.

I try to be the chill girl But honestly, I’m not

The fourth time Wade came over after you two had started your strange kind of relationship again was when he knew this would be impossible to keep casual. You tried your best and he could tell but it wasn’t just you who made it impossible. He had also missed you a lot and now that he was back with you he felt his feelings only growing.

Everything reminded him of how much he was in love with you. From watching you make breakfast in his kitchen, over the grin you flashed him whenever he made a dirty joke to the way you held onto him when you slept over at his place.

He tried to keep things casual but he knew he couldn’t and it became clear when your mother invited you two out for dinner so he could meet your father. And once more, at your mother’s insistence, you’d agreed.

“Why would you say yes? We just agreed to try to keep this casual and you tell your mom I’ll meet your father?”

“I’m sorry, you know how she is. It’s just dinner at the diner downtown. It’s casual.”

“It’s not!”

“Because you can’t keep it casual! My parents have had dinner with casual friends of mine too many times to count, so why can’t they have dinner with you and me?” You snapped and he glared at your accusation that this all was his fault, even though it partially was. “If you don’t want to come to dinner with me and my parents then don’t!”

“This is making it impossible for me to keep it casual!”

“No one is fucking forcing you to come to dinner!”

“Good, because I won’t come!”

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter

He still showed up on time, wearing a brightly coloured button-down. The look of sheer surprise on your face made him almost laugh but he didn’t, still upset after your fight, though he didn’t know what he was even this upset about. He knew that it was most likely because he would never dare to take the next step, too convinced that he was no good for you -- after all, who would want to date a mercenary with a ton of emotional baggage that killed people? But he also felt bitter because he knew that he had been so adamant about keeping this casual that you would never take that step, either.

But the dinner went by nicely, without anyone asking strange questions and with your parents eventually getting distracted talking to an old friend they’d just happened to meet at the diner. He felt your hand on his thigh, creeping upwards, and raised an eyebrow at you to which he only got a small smirk. It didn’t really surprise him because you two had fucked in public bathrooms many times before but never at a restaurant, so your interest in this made part of him rear up in interest.

So when you excused yourself to the bathroom, he waited a few more minutes before declaring that he would get another drink and on his way to the waiter he made a detour, sneaking into the bathroom after you. And before long he had you propped against the wall, one leg hooked over his waist as he pounded into you. One of your hands grabbed onto his neck while the other covered your own mouth. He kept quiet by biting and nibbling on your neck, leaving deep purple marks and making you glad you’d worn a turtleneck that day.

“Come on, come for me.” He urged you on, placing kisses up and down your neck. “Come on my dick, like a good girl.”

You whimpered quietly at his words before taking your and from your mouth, letting it join your other hand on the back of his neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss. Strangely it wasn’t the quiet praise you mumbled against his lips as he hit just the right spot or your sweet kiss that broke the camel's back. It was your nails gently carding down the back of his neck that did it, making Wade once more very aware of how he could never have you.

It was a fate he was choosing for himself -- he knew that and he didn’t need any of the readers calling him out on it -- but it was nonetheless upsetting. You gasped in surprise when he pulled out and set you down, letting your skirt fall from where it had bundled up around your hips.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore and I know I’ve said this before but I really can’t. I’ve tried and I can’t.” He shook his head as he dressed himself again, watching you do the same. “I can’t keep this casual.”

“Wade, please don’t leave.”

“This is for your own good.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”

“Just get out of here, you dumb animal!”

“If you fucking pull a ‘White Fang’ on me now, I will lose it.”

“’White Fang’? I was quoting Spongebob!” Wade defended himself but then shook his head because this was not the discussion he wanted to have. “Let’s just end this.”

With that, he left and he felt his heart actually ache for you as he heard your footsteps hurrying after him, calling out for him to stop. He heard the tears in your voice as he left the room, as he ignored the staff threatening to ban you from the diner for hooking up in the bathroom and as he heard your parents calling after you to stop you from leaving. But he kept going, knowing this was better for you or at least convincing himself that it was. And when he got into his old run-down car and pulled out of the parking lot, he saw you standing by the entrance, crying your eyes out.

I hate that I let this drag on so long

You had never been a quitter, never one to back down from a fight and you knew it wouldn’t surprise Wade when you knocked on his door not even half an hour later. He opened the door, opening his mouth to tell you to leave again but you dove in to kiss him, grabbing his head with both your hands and pulling him close to your body. And to your surprise he kissed you back for a fraction of a second before he shoved you off again, shaking his head and waving his hands around. But you didn’t give him a chance to speak because you were faster.

“I love you, Wade!”

“You’re fucking with me right now, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.” You said sternly, grabbing his hands and making him look at you. “I was such a damn moron letting this whole casual thing drag on for so long because I was too much of a pussy to tell you, but I love you.”

Wade blinked at you and opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, then repeating the process a few more times. If this situation hadn’t been so serious you would have laughed at how you had successfully managed to shut him up. But the quiet was making you nervous so you spoke up again.

“Please, just say something. I can handle rejection, too. But please, say something.”

“I love you, too!” He almost yelled, blinking in surprise at his outburst before quickly continuing. “But we can’t be together. You know, I don’t want this to be some stupid romcom cliche but this really is for your own good. I’m a mercenary, even if I’ve saved the world or some people a few times, and I’m terrible with feelings and you’ve seen yourself how bad I am at communicating.”

“So what?”

“So what?”

“So what if you’re bad at communicating, you’re bad at feelings and you kill people? I still love you and I want to be with you, for real, without anything casual. Please, let me decide for myself what’s good for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything before.” You smiled, looking back at him. “Does that mean we’re no longer trying to just be casual?”

“Never again.”

[librababe99]

More Than Skin Deep

Word Count: 766 

cw: Fem! Reader, Self-esteem issues, reference to scars and disfigurement, established relationship, hurt with comfort 

A/N: This is my first time writing for Wade! Honestly I wanted this to be short and sweet–plus this man is sooo deserving of some gentle love❤️ Would y’all be more open to content with Wade? How are we feeling? 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

The night was quiet—surprisingly so for a place like New York City, where the streets never truly slept. But here, in the dim light of Wade’s apartment, the world outside seemed a distant memory. The soft glow of the streetlamp filtered through the window, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, illuminating the gentle rise and fall of Wade’s chest as he lay on the bed.

You sat beside him, your fingers tracing the well-worn path over his skin. Wade Wilson—merc with a mouth, the man who’d seen more carnage than most could even imagine—was currently as still as you’d ever seen him. His eyes were half-closed, a rare vulnerability etched into the lines of his face.

Your fingers followed the familiar route, gliding over the uneven terrain of his chest. Every scar, every imperfection, was a testament to the battles he’d fought and survived. They were part of him, part of the man you loved, and you cherished each one.

“Why do you do that?” Wade’s voice was softer than usual, lacking the usual quip or joke. There was something raw in his tone, something unguarded. He didn’t open his eyes, though. Maybe he was afraid to see what might be reflected in yours.

“Do what?” you asked, your voice equally gentle. Your fingers continued their journey, moving lower, tracing the ridges and valleys of his abdomen. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the tension in his muscles gradually easing under your ministrations.

“This.” He gestured vaguely to where your hands roamed. “Touch me like I’m… I dunno, something precious.”

You smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “Because you are.”

Wade let out a scoff, the sound more automatic than genuine. "Come on, you can't really find this attractive," he muttered, a trace of self-deprecation in his voice.

You smiled softly, leaning down to kiss one of the scars on his chest. "I find you attractive," you whispered against his skin, feeling the subtle tremor of a laugh as it reverberated through him.

You shifted, lying down beside him so you could face him, your hand moving to cup his cheek. His skin was rough here too, but to you, it was perfect. You brushed your thumb across the ridge of his jaw, feeling the way he leaned into your touch, despite himself.

“You’re not just scars, Wade,” you said, your voice firm but tender. “You’re the man who makes me laugh until my sides hurt. You’re the guy who takes on the worst of the worst to protect people, even if you’d never admit that’s why you do it. You’re the person who makes me feel safe, and loved, and important.”

Wade’s eyes finally opened, and you saw the conflict in them—an uncertainty that rarely showed itself. “You really believe all that?”

“I do.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and slow. “I love every part of you. The loud, the quiet, the scars, the smile… all of it. You’re mine, Wade, and I’m not letting go.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, his hand coming up to rest on yours where it still cupped his cheek. “You’re too good for me,” he said, but there was less conviction in his words this time.

“Maybe,” you teased lightly, pulling back just enough to see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

Wade’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the lie in your words. But there wasn’t one. What he saw was the truth—the unconditional, unwavering love you had for him.

“Guess I could get used to that,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You kissed him again, letting your lips linger, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him. Your hand drifted down his chest once more, over the scars and the rough patches, your touch reverent, worshipful. You poured everything into that kiss, into your touch, wanting him to feel the depth of your love, to know it was real.

When you finally pulled back, Wade’s eyes were dark, filled with something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words barely audible.

You just smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, your heart full. “Always.”

And as the night stretched on, with the world outside growing quieter still, you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms. Wade’s body relaxed completely under your gentle ministrations, his heart finally accepting what his mind struggled to comprehend.

That he was loved—scars and all.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

[lymmsweb]

Until I found you

🕷pairing : miguel o’hara x spider!reader

🕷word count: 1095

🕷warnings: non sexual intimacy, description of wounds, nudity, minor ATSV spoilers

🕷summary: Lyla alerts Miguel that you’re injured, Miguel takes it upon himself to help you

🕸 After he set up the Spider association you were one of the first that joined, he didn’t feel much for you at first but after going on countless missions together he trusted you more than anyone.

🕸He gave up on finding love after his daughter died, he felt as if he didn’t deserve a good relationship after all the damage he caused. You were one of the few people that helped him through his guilt and sadness after the event, often cracking jokes with Peter B. to get Miguel to crack even the littlest of smiles.

🕸 He never truly got over his daughters death but he slowly started to act softer and more affectionate with you. He would hang around the lobby more, he didn’t really know why but he always felt like he was looking for someone every time he went out. All most each time he came out of his ‘office’ you would always find a way to lock eyes with him or even strike up a conversation and each time he’d always let his rough exterior fall and shoot you a small smile.

🕸 Normally in his free time you’d always be with him eating Empanadas or Arepas in the kitchen, working in silence next to each other, checking up on you daily and slightly leaning into your touch whenever you’d accidentally bump into him. Miguel even gave you special authorisation with Lyla that no one but him had.

🕸 It was when Lyla alerted him that you were severely hurt after a mission gone horribly wrong he quickly dropped everything and rushed over and into your dimension. You were bloody and bruised, sitting on your living room floor panting and exhausted. Miguel’s heart dropped for a second,at the thought of loosing you he’s reminded of how his daughter hung onto him before she disappeared.

“Mierda! What happened?” he panicked as he bolted over to the medical kit you kept under your bed. He knew where everything was in your house, he crashed many times to your place durning restless, nightmare filled nights. He fumbled a bit as he grabbed it, hurriedly making it back to you making sure he didn’t knock anything over. Without hesitance he started to rip your suit off to get more access around the wounds.

“Buy me a drink first.” you chuckled weakly as you watched him furrow his brows as he started to disinfect the gash in your thigh.

“You only need one drink to sleep with me?” he joked as he to reach over to grab the needle and stitches, rubbing your leg gently with his other hand. He knew he had to ask what had happened but he decided against it just in case you would start stressing out more, although this didn’t stop him seething with rage every time he saw your bruised and cut face.

“Cielo this going to hurt.” he apologetically looked at you before he started to close the wound, with every painful noise you let out his heart broke just a little more, reminding him yet again how in his daughters final moments she was also making those noises. It didn’t take him long before he was finished, putting away all the medical equipment he made Lyla scan you for any internal damage. It turned out you had a concussion but apart from that you were somewhat ‘okay’.

“You should probably wash yourself.” Lyla chimed in, looking closely at your body before turning around to wink at Miguel. He scoffed in annoyance and swatted her away. She always enjoyed pushing her limits with him.

“Come let’s get you cleaned up.” blush crept up on your cheeks as he bent down and picked you up bridle style, trying his hardest to not touch any bruises as he gripped onto you harshly. He swiftly moved around furniture and rooms until he made it to the bathroom, setting you down on the toilet seat before turning to get the bath ready. He stared at the water slowly filling up the tub lost in though, what if he got there sooner, what if you died, what if…? He didn’t know what he’d do if you were no longer by his side, if he didn’t get to hear you again, to feel you again-

“Romeo, you okay?” your teasing words snapped him out of his trance, his head snapped towards you, just blankly meeting your eyes.

“I should be asking you that.” he hummed as he looked you up and down, taking in the way your torn suit stuck to the curves of your body. The way your lips were slightly parted showing your front teeth, the way you looked at him intensely back. He felt like he was under your microscope as you were studying ass his features too.

“Miguel..” you placed your hand on his knee, softly rubbing it. Once he heard you softly whispering his name, touching him so gently he realised just how much he was deeply in love with you, he would’t be able to having you not there in his life.

“Don’t scare me like that again, okay?” Miguel replied as he grabbed your hand intertwining his fingers in yours as he stood up, bringing you up with him. “Also the bath is ready, do you need a drink firs-“

“Shut up.” a light smack to his chest interrupted him, earning a small laugh both of you. Miguel silently asked for permission, waiting for you to allow him to help. You offered him a nod and smile, relaxing your body as he started to strip away the layers from your body, each little touch was like electricity against your skin. It took a while before you were down to nothing. He stayed silent, not letting his eyes wander around your naked form keeping strong eye contact.

He grabbed your hand and helped you into the tub, worried you’d end up slipping and hurting yourself even more, sitting down in the water felt like a blessing against your skin, finally getting all the seat and blood off of your skin was rejuvenating. Miguel felt his heart flutter as he realised how domestic the scene in front of him was, finding comfort in the love and trust you gave him. He walked around searching for your floral scented shampoo and your citric body wash, humming a song quietly to himself. Once he retrieved everything you needed, he passed you the bottles and sat down next to you playing with your hair, watching you intently as you cleaned your blood off of you.

a/n: Cielo - Sky (affectionate nickname) Mierda - Shit . I’ll def be writing more Miguel so whatever nickname he says in spanish is normally what my parents call eachother! The title is taken from this song. Also i just redid my page, hope y’all like it!!!

[aquaticmercy]

Symptom of Life

Sequel to My Own Soul's Warning Bucky x Spirit of Suffering!reader masterlist

Summary : Bucky introduces Sam to his secret wife, who is still getting used to being in a human body.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Blood, violence, death, trauma, mentions of ED, SA, insecurities, sleep disorders. Slight caffeine addiction (reader loves coffee but feel free to exchange it for any caffeinated drink). Maybe a bit angsty? I know the tags look bad but ultimately it’s fluffy. (Let me know if I've missed anything)

Word count : 9k oops

Note : This fic is a sequel to My Own Soul’s Warning. Reader was the Spirit of Suffering, a former immortal entity who shows herself to people in extreme physical and emotional suffering to help ease the pain. I also really really enjoy the idea of Bucky having a secret wife. Title is inspired by the Willow song of the same name. Enjoy!

Bucky couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you, his fingers skimming along your arms, your shoulders, drifting down to hold your hand, as if touching you was the only way to convince himself you were real. 

When he noticed the crimson footprints smudged into his carpet, he froze, his eyes darting down to your bare, bloodied feet. 

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” He stared at the raw cuts, the bruised flesh, the delicate lines of red seeping out, soaking into the fabric. The reality of you being human—really, fully human—sank in. 

For the first time, you weren’t ethereal and distant. For the first time, your human form wasn’t bound to borrowed time. You were fragile, stuck in this world like he was, prone to physical injury like he was.

Your eyes flicked to his, and with a naive curiosity, you asked, “Are feet… supposed to feel sharp?” 

Was that the word people used to describe this uneasy physical feeling? 

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” His mouth fell open, a breathless laugh escaping him. He couldn't help himself— even like this you were… adorable. “Let me take care of you. Come here.” He guided you to the couch, his touch gentle, brows furrowed. Moving through the drawers in his kitchen, he found his first aid kit, and crouched in front of you.

You watched, fascinated, as he opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic and gauze with practised hands, his fingers shivering as they brushed over your skin. He took your foot in his lap, so carefully as if he feared you might break. 

You winced at the sting of the antiseptic, staring down as he dabbed gently. Each time he caught a flinch or a sharp inhale, he murmured, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be gentle.” 

After a moment of silence, he asked, “Where did you walk from?”

You tilted your head, trying to remember the journey. You remembered reading a sign!

“I showed up in the woods near Westview… I think.” 

His hands froze on your foot, his chin snapping up. “Westview? You’re telling me that you walked from a Jersey suburb all the way to Brooklyn… barefoot? In nothing but—” His eyes drifted down to the thin fabric you were wearing, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “—a… what, a sheet?”

“Yes? Is that not normal?” Your lips quirked, the corners of your mouth twitching with a laugh. “People did give me strange looks.”

He stared at you, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. All this time, you’d been wandering the earth as the Spirit of Suffering, witnessing every dark corner of human existence—yet you didn’t understand human norms? 

But then he realised— that you were exactly that: an entity bound to suffering, burdened with witnessing the worst parts of humanity. You’d been drawn to agony, grief, and loss. You have probably never seen a human just… be. 

Before Bucky, you’d never known what it meant to feel the gentler things: kindness, joy, the sweetness of an ordinary moment. 

The beauty in simply being alive. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled off his Henley, handing it to you. “Here. Wear this. Just… don’t move.”

You took the clothes from him, the warmth of the fabric seeping into your skin as you pulled them on. Every movement felt new and strange.

The Henley was soft, and you savoured the scent that clung to it—something clean and faintly cedar-y, just like the woods you had appeared in. 

It felt like a shield against the strange chill of your mortal skin.

Bucky settled beside you, draping a blanket over both of you. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Tell me everything.”

In the warm quiet of Bucky’s apartment that now felt vast, you let the truth spill from your lips. 

You told him of Rio Vidal, of calling Death herself, of the eternity you had given away in the blink of an eye— that you will now die as he would— that your infinite existence in search of a pain has come to an end— that you were made from the same flesh and blood that he was. 

As you spoke, you watched the way his eyes reflected the glow of the warm lamplight.

Perhaps it would always be this way with you— he would always have questions he couldn’t ask, that had answers he couldn’t possibly understand.

But did that really matter? The soul that had wondered all the living realms, the soul that had been the Spirit of Suffering— the mercy in all his nightmares, was now human. 

You, his one true love that he was certain he couldn’t truly grasp, had shown up at his doorstep, truly alive for the first time. Not a phantom. Not a ghost. Not anymore.

Wasn’t this what he had been asking of you?

A new struggle dawned on his face— hope, disbelief, and finally a guilt that consumed his heart, sinking deeper and deeper until he could no longer tell where he started and it began.

He stayed silent, but his hand lifted, hesitating before his metal arm reached for your cheeks. His touch was gentle, careful, like he was trying to memorise the warmth of your skin, as if he had gotten too used to you leaving in the morning. “You did this…,” he said, voice rough. He didn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t finish it.

You did this for me.

You nodded, feeling the press of tears you hadn’t realised were waiting for release. “For you,” you whispered. “But I chose this myself.”

His face twisted. Your declaration hurt, yet he held on tighter. His human fingers sliding up to your wrists, pressing into the pulse. His eyes closed, his breath uneven. “I don’t deserve this,” he murmured, voice breaking.

You reached for his jaw, guiding him to look at you. “If anyone does,” you said, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s you.”

A gentle wave of calm radiated from you, easing his worries, allowing just enough peace to slip past his defences.

You spoke with a finality that left no room for doubt— a certainty that felt ancient, a knowledge too vast to be contained within the human mind it now occupied. You had seen humanity's darkest sorrows, touched the edges of its deepest pain. Coming from you, he knew your words were absolute.

He chuckled, a low, sweet sound that sounded like music to your ears.  His fingers left your pulse and covered your hand on his face.

“You’re really here,” he whispered with a childlike wonder, nuzzling into your palm.

When you had a borrowed human form, every second felt strained, as if each breath drained you. But now, with a mortal mind to match your human body, everything felt effortless, natural. For the first time, you could feel the roughness of Bucky's stubble against your skin without the weight of eternity anchoring you.

“I am,” you said, your voice trembling, getting used to the fragile elasticity of a human vocal cord. You could feel the steady, comforting warmth of his body, his heartbeat a drumbeat against your hand on his chest.

The textures around you seemed sharper, more alive than ever before. The clarity was blinding—the rough edge of the cuts on his skin against your fingertips, the dampness of tears on his cheek. Each breath, each subtle movement of his chest under your hand, felt like a true miracle— and you’ve witnessed many miracles.

He pulled you into him then, wrapping his arms around you, utterly anchored in this mortal world. His face pressed against your hair, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the gentle brush of his lips against your forehead. In that moment, everything felt amplified—the softness of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heart against your own, the way his fingers traced slow patterns on your back, almost as if he were afraid you’d slip away again.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, still in disbelief.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied. You felt his hand slide up to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle, protective. 

—

That night, he taught you how to sleep. For eons, you'd drifted through darkness, untouched by the need for rest. You’ve watched over tormented souls throughout the night—those who woke in terror, those steeped in frustration of sleepless nights. Bucky had even been one of them.

You knew the kind of exhaustion that left people broken— but the gentle surrender of sleep, that brought refreshment and peace—that had always been beyond your reach.

So when he suggested you try it, the idea felt foreign, even decadent. That night, lying next to him, your heart thundered as the strange sensation of needing sleep washed over you, especially after the long walk that brought you to him.

As you yawned, Bucky stifled a laugh, kissing your forehead. “The adrenaline is running out,” he said. 

Tiredness was as foreign as it was unsettling. He wrapped his arms around you. He whispered to you, his voice a grounding hum. The rise and fall of his chest was a tether, an anchor in this unfamiliar stillness, until, gradually, you sank into the quiet oblivion.

When you awoke, Bucky’s morning voice rang softly as he took in the wonder and surprise on your face. 

“You get used to it,” he chuckled, his hand brushing through your rumpled hair. “Believe me, not every morning feels that amazing.” 

But you couldn’t imagine ever feeling anything but awe at this—waking up warm and whole again, cocooned in his arms.

— 

That morning, Bucky handed you a bowl of cereal, and you stared at it like a riddle you’d never known needed solving. 

When you were immortal, you had only ever seen food through the lives of those who struggled with it, those who either deprived themselves or sought comfort in excess, using eating to ease their pain. So when Bucky suggested you should try eating yourself, you approached it with hesitation.

But he was patient, his eyes warm as he showed you how to hold the spoon, how to bring it to your mouth for that first tentative bite. The sweetness, the cold milk—it all flooded your senses at once, and then came the emptiness after chewing and swallowing. You laughed, amazed at how something so small could be so enchanting.

—

Then, it came for you to clean yourself. 

You’d witnessed scenes like this countless times before— bathtubs filled with still, unmoving water. Often, the people you watched over leaned in ceramic bathrooms in silence, crying in solitude. Showers where people stood for hours, letting the water drown their pain. You’d seen water become a place of grief, of release, of places where bodies were found by a grieving family.

But this was different. 

You gingerly stepped in the bath, watching Bucky’s face to make sure you were doing it right, but he was only smiling. He cupped some water and tossed it at you with a splash, chuckling as you jumped, surprised. The warmth felt good, and so did the way he looked at you: relaxed and teasing, no weight or judgement in his gaze.

“You’ve gotta get your hair wet too,” he said, lifting a bubble-filled hand and laughing as he blew them playfully in your direction. The bubbles floated like tiny stars before popping against your skin, and you found yourself reaching for them, a small laugh escaping your lips. You didn’t know you could laugh like this, a sound so unburdened by the infinite years you endured alone.

Soon, you started enjoying the unfamiliar joy of being simply clean.

—

One morning, he handed you a toothbrush, squeezing a minty gel onto it. 

He guided your hand gently, helping you get the feel of it. The rush of cool mint, the slight sting of the paste—it was all strangely invigorating. It was a ritual he assured you would become second nature. 

Mortals are so fragile! What do you mean if they don’t do this every day, a vital part of their body will fall off? You thought to yourself, before remembering that you are now one of them, too. 

Each morning after that, you stood side by side in the bathroom, brushing together, and he’d watch you in the mirror, amused as you perfected the routine.

—

And now: clothes. At first, you wore whatever Bucky gave you—a worn sweater, one of his old shirts. But he soon insisted on taking you out to find your own, bringing you to a clothing store where he watched as you picked through the racks, feeling the fabrics, the textures that you haven't before.

When you were immortal, you witnessed the way mirrors could deepen the wounds of mortal insecurities. Now, you found yourself grappling with those same emotions —one that you had never possessed before. 

When you put on a tight shirt in the changing room, you weren’t prepared for the way your own reflection made you hesitate. You looked at your body and wondered why it didn’t curve the same as the mannequins outside, or why your form wasn’t the same as the figures plastered on billboards. 

“Do I look wrong?” you asked Bucky, frowning at your reflection. He didn’t hesitate, stepping closer to you. “Of course not,” he said. “You’re beautiful, doll.”

As you learned to process human insecurity, you also learned to laugh as you twirled in front of the mirror in clothes that were truly yours. 

Still, even with your part of the closet now stocked up, he would catch you lounging in his day-old shirts from time to time.

—

Days passed with more tiny, mundane marvels. He gave you a phone to keep him updated on your whereabouts. And with that he also gave you a pair of blue light glasses, holding them carefully as he helped you slide them on. 

“These’ll help,” he explained, brushing a finger over the bridge of your nose. Your eyes, so used to eternity, ached with the sharp glow of phone screens and computers.

Bucky didn’t really need them— super soldier serum and all. But you? Now, you were so devastatingly human that you crinkled your nose and rubbed your eyes when you were reading some old Latin text (which was a practically dead language) on his tablet for too long. 

“Screens are terrible for your eyes,” he said. And he was right, until these glasses softened the glare. You found yourself squinting less at the blue-tinged world they showed you.

You kept them in a case wherever you went.

— 

Bucky taught you how to use the subway, standing close behind you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you learned to read the maps, to listen for the names of stops. Once, you were too preoccupied with talking to each other that you ended up far from home, but he just laughed. When he noticed you were getting tired before you could even make your way home, he bought you both a cup of coffee. He then showed you how to retrace your steps, until you found your way back together.

Well, the coffee was a mistake. The smell alone was fascinating—rich, bitter, and warm. You took a sip, and the taste flooded your senses.

it tasted so… deep.

You felt the faint bite of bitterness softened by milk and sugar, an intensity of flavour you'd never known. 

The jolt of caffeine made you feel vibrantly alive, so much so that when you almost got home, you insisted on going to a nearby cafe and ordering another one yourself, unable to resist. And another one. And another one. And… another one.

When night fell, though, you laid awake, heart racing. Bucky chuckled as you fidgeted beside him, amused as you tried to get comfortable in his arms. "You might want to go easy on the coffee next time, doll," he said, stroking your hair as you tossed and turned, learning the dangers of caffeine a little too late. 

—

Then, there was the music.

One evening, Bucky sat beside you, scrolling through his records as you closed your eyes and let the sound spill into your eardrums. He played everything he could think of—classical, jazz, heavy rock, music from both his era and this one. You found yourself drawn to the soulful, mournful melodies, the songs heavy with longing. When you shared this with him, he chuckled softly, saying “old habits die hard,” and you had to laugh. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that when you were drifting through the centuries, you listened as artists— Beethoven, Louis Armstrong, Janis Joplin, Lorna Wu— pouring their own pain into their music. You had stood beside them once, a witness to their pain.

—

Even laundry became an adventure. He watched as you stood in front of the washing machine, staring at it like it was some complicated puzzle. “Trust me,” he grinned, showing you how to measure the detergent. He watched as you concentrated, biting your lip as you turned the dial and pressed the start button. The hum of the machine, the warmth of freshly dried clothes—all of it enchanted you, and Bucky could hardly believe he had the chance to witness this, to be here for each discovery.

—

You were learning, too, about the cold. 

One evening, the two of you wandered out under a sky swirling with frost and snowflakes. As the chill settled into your skin, you shivered—a sharp, biting sensation that was alien. You couldn’t suppress a gasp, startled by the vulnerability of this mortal form. Bucky noticed instantly, and without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

Then he drew you close. His arms wrapped around you, his own warmth seeping into your body. The sensation was strange—this human closeness, this press of one being against another. 

It was foreign, yet it was soothing. 

He felt a barrier against the cold, and for the first time, you understood what it meant to feel safe.

—

Bucky even helped you pick a name. You’d never had one before, not really. Names were for mortals, for fleeting things. But now that you were one, you needed it. 

You spent hours together, turning names over like stones, tasting each one, letting the syllables sit on your tongue until something fit. The moment it did, you saw the change in Bucky’s face. Like you’d both found something you didn’t know you were looking for. It was the sound of it, your name, clicking into place, bridging a gap you didn’t realise was there until it closed.

Then he asked what last name you wanted. 

"I figured it would just be Barnes," you said, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

But it was, to Bucky. Last names were such a specific social sentiment to him, and here you were, assuming it as if it was second nature.

"Do you want it to be?" he asked, sheepishly shy. He wanted you to understand that he was offering you something precious, something more than just a name.

You said "yes," and you meant it. 

You had a last name now—his name. The thought twisted in your chest, both strange and achingly right. 

He made it real, pulling strings the way he could. He handed you the papers, a freshly printed birth certificate, and an ID. 

“It’s official,” he said, tucking them into your hand with a smile that was so warm it almost burned— a smile that felt like the heavens crafted it just for you.

—

Not long after, Bucky asked if you’d marry him. 

You were both in his apartment, on the balcony after dinner when he knelt down on one knee. He held out a sapphire and diamond ring, the stone the colour of a sky just before the storm breaks— just a couple of shades shy of his eyes. 

He asked if you wanted to do it tomorrow. No waiting, no grand spectacle—just the two of you, the wedding bands already prepared, sitting on his side of the night stand.

But he didn’t want to rush you. “Please say no if you want to,” he reassured, worried he might scare you off.

You’d been human only a few months, still getting used to your skin, to the sound of a heartbeat in your ears. 

But you’d known him for nearly a century. You’ve met him in brief, flickering moments back when you were still a spirit, drifting across the world, pulled by the invisible threads of suffering. It had been years since you started manifesting a physical form he could touch, nearly two years since he first showed you what a wonder it was to be kissed by him. 

So he just had to ask. 

He’d waited so long already. Time felt thin to him since it came to his attention that he almost died— and he didn’t want to waste another second. He wasn’t sure how a former Spirit of Suffering would react to a marriage proposal, so when you said yes, his relief was tangible in every fibre of the universe around him. 

—

The courthouse was quiet. There was no grand vision of romance here, and yet, as you stood beside Bucky, you felt love swell like never before, heart beating out of your ribcage. 

You had watched marriages unfold for millennia, seen the concept evolve from a practical contract to a declaration of love. You had been sceptical, even baffled. Why did mortals need to bind their love with laws and vows? It seemed so restrictive, so doomed to cause pain. 

And you had seen so much pain come from marriage.

You’d answered the call of those trapped in loveless unions, those whose hearts were shattered by betrayal, those left hollow by the death of a beloved. You had soothed countless souls in the aftermath of love gone wrong.

But here, in this sunlit room, you understood why they did it. Why they risked so much for a chance to promise something unbreakable, even though they knew how fragile it really was. 

You, who had only ever observed human beings from the edges of their lives, were now standing at the centre of your own. Hand in hand with Bucky, you made a promise not because you had to, but because you wanted to, with a conviction that felt as new and startling as your human heartbeat.

He looked at you with a kindness he rarely let anyone else see. For the first time, the idea of marriage didn’t feel like a cage— it felt like freedom.

You repeated the officiant’s words, meaning every single thing that came out of your mouth. Bucky’s eyes never left yours, as though he was anchoring himself to you, just as you had once anchored yourself to the sorrows of the world. 

“Do you take James Buchanan Barnes…” The words were ordinary, mundane. Yet when you whispered “I do,” it felt heavenly.

It wasn’t a promise for eternity—it was a promise for a single, fleeting lifetime. And that, you realised, made it all the more precious.

When he slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands were steady. It was a marker, not of ownership but of choice. It was his way of saying that he chose you, above all else, and that you chose him, despite everything you had seen and known.

The officiant gave a quiet, “You may kiss,” but you hardly heard it before Bucky’s lips met yours. His lips were soft, filled with a devotion that overwhelmed you. So you clung to him for comfort, as if this brief moment could stretch into the forever you once knew.

He called you “my wife” from then on, with a kind of reverence you weren’t used to. And you, in turn, you grew quite fond of calling him “my husband.”

—

Over the next few months, Bucky watched as you gradually found your place among humans, learning to live in the world you’d once only observed. 

Tasks that had seemed simple from a distance became little puzzles, requiring patience and a quiet acceptance of limits— that you couldn’t just will something to go away anymore. Bucky would often catch sight of you across the room, fumbling slightly with things you were learning for the first time— jars, doors, and locks. Learning how to cook. Learning how to use a blender. Learning how to adjust the temperature when the heater was on.

Still, that kindness you’d carried as a spirit had followed you here, perhaps even amplified by vulnerability. He noticed it in the way you approached others, how you listened when someone spoke of their troubles. 

Bucky marvelled at it, at you, amazed that this once-immortal spirit was now seeking to make sense of a body that tired and a world that didn’t stop moving.

One day, you decided to give your time to those who might need you most—signing up to volunteer at an animal shelter, a soup kitchen, a rehab centre, and a retirement home all at once. But soon enough, you came face to face with the very real limits of humanity. You no longer had infinite time or energy, and it pained you to accept that you couldn’t be everywhere at once. 

You had to let go of some of your commitments, a necessary choice that broke your heart.

Sometimes, people would glance at you with a flicker of recognition, sensing that they’d seen you before. And you remembered every single one of them. But you would simply smile, saying nothing as they’d pass by. 

From time to time, Bucky wondered if some hint of your old self remained in this new body. After all, you had crossed ages and realms. Something like that doesn’t just… disappear, right?

He’d notice it in the smallest ways, subtle moments that defy simple explanation. After a hard mission, when tension knotted every muscle in his shoulders, you'd step into the room, and everything seemed to shift. The pain would gently subside. His breathing would calm ever so slightly.

Or there were times he’d experience some small hurt—a papercut flipping through a book, or an ache on his side where Sam had kicked him hard during sparring. You’d look at him with concern, and the sting would fade.

Or maybe it’s the fact that ever since you’ve been sleeping next to him, his nightmares seemed quieter���sometimes even absent altogether. It was something he had almost forgotten was possible, that kind of sleep, deep and dreamless, the kind that let him wake up feeling like he’d left some of the pain behind.

He never directly asked if this was deliberate, if you could still pull on the threads of suffering. But he suspected you could, suspected that some remnant of your gift remained, woven so deeply into you that even a human body couldn’t strip it away completely.

Maybe you didn’t even notice it yourself; after all, you had spent lifetimes seeking suffering to mend. Easing pain had once been your nature, your very essence. And now, even bound by flesh, there was a grace about you, a sense that some hidden part of you still looked out for hurt souls.

—

You were still learning what it meant to feel human emotions fully, to experience anger, frustration, to process the sharp stab of indignation that came with disrespect. 

So when some guy on the street cat called you, yelling something crude and graphic— an unfamiliar feeling surged in your chest. It wasn’t just anger—it was outrage, a visceral feeling that burned in a way you’d never experienced before— one that even hurt your guts.

Because you knew where this could go, you’ve witnessed it— you remembered every person you’d consoled, the countless humans you’d held in their pain after they had been touched against their will, violated, used. You recalled the sorrow, the anguish, the sense that they’ve lost themselves in the process, lost a piece of their soul to their abuser. You’ve seen it all— little girls hiding in the closet, little boys having to pretend because they thought they were less because of it, people who flinched at the sheer mention of their abuser. More often than not— it started like this. 

With a “harmless” comment.

So now, faced with this man’s ugly words, you realised you could feel the anger on their behalf—and it was overwhelming.

As you fixed your gaze on the cat caller, his smirk faded. His expression twisted, almost as if something was clawing at him from the inside. He clutched at his chest, his face paling as tears began to stream down his face. He didn’t know why he was crying, didn’t understand the flood of pain, of fear, of regret that washed over him, consuming him in a way he’d never known. He was overwhelmed, bent by a will he couldn’t see but could feel pressing down on him like a ton of bricks.

And then, from somewhere behind you, you heard Bucky’s voice, low and steady. “I know he’s a dickhead, but… he’s not worth it.” His words were soft but urgent, a knife breaking through your haze of anger.

You turned to look at him, confused, and only then did you realise what you’d done. The cat caller was still crying, crumpling under a pain you hadn’t consciously intended to inflict. 

You hadn’t known that you could cause suffering. Your whole existence had been spent easing it, helping others bear their burdens, guiding them toward healing. 

But now, feeling human anger, you’d somehow unleashed pain on someone else.

Bucky was watching you, his gaze both gentle and concerned, trying to gauge what you were feeling. 

He’d suspected that some of your powers might remain, but neither of you had known for sure, not until now. 

This… this was different. 

You took a deep breath, and suddenly, the man stopped crying, shaken and confused. The surge of anger receded, leaving you to grapple with a side of yourself you didn’t realise existed.

After telling the cat caller to “get the fuck away from my wife” Bucky stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to touch your arm.

You were kind, too kind for your own good. Even though he had deserved it, you still had to face the guilt of hurting a soul for the first time in eternity.

“You didn’t know,” he said quietly.

This new side of you— perhaps the manifestation of your powers in the presence of vulnerable mortal emotions— was unsettling. You’d been a source of mercy, of solace— and yet, you realised, that compassion had come with an understanding of pain so deep it could— when fuelled by human anger— turn against others.

—

The day Bucky asked Sam if he wanted to meet you was as ordinary as any other. The two were sitting in a small diner, plates of food between them, the hum of a radio in the background. Sam had just finished telling a story about why his wingpack needed servicing again when Bucky dropped the bombshell.

“So,” Bucky said, poking at the remnants of his fries. “You want to meet my wife?”

Sam froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, expression drained. “Your what?” he asked, as if Bucky had just admitted to robbing a bank or killing a puppy.

“My wife,” Bucky repeated, casually taking another bite of his burger. 

Sam lowered his fork slowly, eyes narrowing. “You have a wife?”

“Yes,” Bucky nodded. He took the ring looped around a chain by his neck from under his shirt to show him, “Do you think I’m that unlovable?”

“When did this happen?”

“A couple of months ago.”

“And I’m only just hearing about it?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Sam stared at him, his jaw slightly slack from the nuke of an information he just dropped. “Complicated?” he repeated incredulously. “Bucky, you’re not allowed to drop a bomb like ‘I have a wife’ and follow it up with ‘it’s complicated.’ What does that even mean? I didn’t even know you were dating. I didn’t even know you liked people!”

Bucky snorted, crossing his arm. “I like people.”

“Since when?”

“Since I married one.”

“Okay, I need answers.” Sam sat back in the booth, arms over his chest. “Where did you meet her? How long has this been going on? And—oh, here’s a big one—why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

“It wasn’t a big wedding.” Bucky sipped his soda calmly, clearly enjoying baffling Sam more than he let on. “Just us in the courthouse.”

“That’s not the point! I’m your friend.” Sam threw his hands up.  “When you meet someone, you tell your friends, you invite them to the wedding. You don’t just—what—elope and then ambush me over lunch like it’s a mission briefing!”

Bucky’s smile grew wider, almost sheepish now. “You done?” he asked, and Sam glared at him.

“No, I’m not done. I have so many questions.” Sam squinted at him suspiciously. “Who is she? Is she in witness protection? A spy? What?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, she’s just… still getting used to being human.”

There was a long pause as Sam stared at him, his expression a perfect mix of disbelief and confusion. Then, with slow deliberation, he leaned forward. “Okay,” he said carefully. “So which one is she? Alien, android, or wizard?”

Bucky groaned, leaning back in his seat. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again!” Sam said, pointing a finger at him. “You don’t think that sounds exactly like one of the big three? Alien. Android. Wizard. Take your pick.”

“She’s none of them,” Bucky insisted, though his tone wavered slightly. He frowned, thinking about the things he’d seen you do—how you could still soothe pain without realising it, how your anger had once manifested as a wave of pure suffering. That did seem a bit magical. A small doubt crept into his mind. “At least… I don’t think she is.”

“Don’t think?” Sam repeated, eyebrows shooting up. “You don’t even know?”

“Shhh,” Bucky said, noticing how Sam was getting louder and louder. People have started turning their heads, “you’re making a scene.”

“I’m allowed to make a— wait what are you writing down?”

Bucky pulled a small notebook out of his jacket pocket. He flipped to a blank page and scribbled something down. Sam leaned over the table, trying to see what he’d written.

‘Ask if wizard,’ he had written in today’s to-do list, along with ‘buy flowers’ and ‘pick up garlic.’ 

Sam read the list, looking back at Bucky with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Seriously?”

Bucky shrugged, tucking the notebook away. “Gotta be thorough.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” Sam rubbed his temples. “You’ve been happier lately—I’ll give you that—but now I’m wondering if it’s because you’re in love or if your wizard wife is casting some kind of love spell on you.”

“She’s not,” Bucky said flatly. “And she’s probably not a wizard.”

“This is insane.” Sam rubbed his temple, feeling a bad headache incoming, shaking his head. “You still haven’t told me why I wasn’t invited to this magical mystery courthouse wedding.”

Bucky’s expression softened slightly, the teasing edge in his voice giving way to something more serious. “Because it’s complicated. She’s… different. She’s been through a lot. I didn’t want to overwhelm her.”

Sam blinked, taken aback by the sudden sincerity in Bucky’s voice. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “But you could’ve at least told me, man. You know I would’ve been cool about it. I’d wanna help! Picked out a suit. Give you a pep talk when you’re nervous.”

Bucky laughed. “So you would’ve been my best man?”

“Absolutely,” Sam said. “Come on! I love weddings! I would’ve danced with all the wizard aunties.”

“There were no aunties.”

“Whatever.”

They both laughed, the tension easing slightly. Sam leaned back in his chair, still shaking his head. “So when do I get to meet Mrs. Barnes?”

“Soon,” Bucky said, his grin widening. “You’re gonna like her.”

“I’d better,” Sam muttered, reaching for his drink. “Because if she does turn out to be a wizard and didn’t tell you, I’m gonna kick her magical ass.”

Bucky laughed— a genuine, deep laugh that Sam hadn’t heard in a long time. It was good to see him like this, happy and relaxed. And despite all the weirdness, Sam couldn’t help but feel curious about the woman who had managed to do the impossible—make Bucky Barnes smile so effortlessly.

—

Bucky leaned back into the couch, his arm draped lazily along the backrest as he watched you squint at your laptop. You were completely engrossed in an old Sumerian text, occasionally pausing to scroll or mutter something in an ancient language under your breath.

“Are you a wizard?” he asked suddenly, his tone teasing but curious.

You glanced up, tilting your head like you were considering it. 

“No,” you finally replied, closing the laptop halfway. “If anything, I’m closer to being a witch.”

Bucky shifted closer, resting his chin in his hand as he studied you. “What’s the difference?” 

“Witches are born with magic,” you explained, tucking your feet underneath you. “It’s part of who they are. Wizards—or to use the more accurate term, sorcerers—have to learn sorcery.” 

Bucky pulled out his little notebook from his pocket, flipping it open. You leaned over, watching as he crossed out the last word in ‘ask if wizard’ and wrote ‘witch’ instead. He then carefully added a little tick next to it. 

You laughed, resting your head against his shoulder. “Are you taking notes on me?”

“Of course,” he said, tone completely serious. “Gotta keep track of all the weird, magic wife stuff.”

You swatted his arm, but the fondness in your touch was unmistakable.

Bucky grinned, leaning back to nudge you gently with his shoulder. “How was the text? Did you crack the code?”

“Oh, it wasn’t hard,” you said with a dismissive wave— you had gotten used to all the languages ever spoken. After all, you’ve had to comfort people in their native tongue. “Humans are so funny, losing languages they invented.” You shook your head, chuckling softly.

Bucky’s laugh rumbled in his chest, “Yeah, well, we’re good at forgetting stuff.”

You gave him a knowing look but said nothing, only tucking your legs more comfortably against his. 

“How was lunch with Sam?” you asked, your voice soft as you reached for his metal hand.

“Great,” Bucky said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand absentmindedly. “Still on for meeting him tomorrow?”

You hesitated for a beat, your eyes flicking to your joined hands. “Mmhmm,” you said finally, though your voice was quieter. “I’ve met him before, you know.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “You have?”

You nodded, shifting to face him more fully. “Back when I was immortal. I’ve met most of your friends, actually,” you paused, giving him a wry smile, “most of your superhero friends. No offence, but you’re a tragic bunch.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.” Bucky laughed, his hand squeezing yours. “Do you think he’ll recognize you?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, a shy nervousness glinting in your eyes.

—

It was a bright, crisp morning when you and Bucky met up with Sam at a small café on a bustling street corner. The moment felt odd, like a page from someone else's story, but when you stepped into it, it became yours.

Bucky introduced you to Sam, his voice firm as he said the human name you had chosen. It still felt new, like the boots Bucky bought for you that were just beginning to wear in.

But the way Bucky said it, with certainty, made it feel like it had always been yours. 

The three of you chose a table outside, the sunlight catching the glint of Bucky’s vibranium arm as he pulled out a chair for you. A simple gesture, but one that made Sam immediately raise an eyebrow.

“I thought he stopped being a gentleman after the 40s,” Sam quipped as he sat down with a teasing smile. “What happened to you, man?”

Before Bucky could answer, you slid into the chair with a small, knowing smile. “He married me,” you said, the lightness in your tone making Sam chuckle.

“Damn right I did.” Bucky settled into his own chair, leaning back with a smirk that made his steel-blue eyes crinkle. Sam laughed, sipping his coffee.

“The infamous Mrs. Barnes. Took him long enough to introduce us. Thought he was hiding you on purpose.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Bucky muttered under his breath, but there was no heat in his words—just a gruff affection.

Sam ignored him, leaning forward with interest. “So, how long’s it been?”

“Three months tomorrow,” you said easily, holding up your left hand where your gold ring caught the sunlight. Bucky’s matching band gleamed on his human hand, today at least. He was always swapping it between his fingers, sometimes wearing it on a chain around his neck— still unsure if he wanted to wear it traditionally on his metal arm or on his human one because it felt closer.

“How’s the old man holding up?” Sam’s grin widened, blissfully unaware of just how long you’ve roamed this earth. “Any second thoughts yet?”

You tilted your head, only pretending to consider it. “He’s got his quirks…” you began, earning a dramatic groan from Bucky, “…but I think I’ll keep him.”

“Quirks?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes with mock offence, “what quirks?”

“How much time do I have to list them all off, my love?” You smiled. Bucky's heart warmed with pride— of how quickly and naturally you mastered human sarcasm, as if it was second nature.

“I like her already,” Sam said, laughing as he pat Bucky on the shoulder.

Bucky huffed, rolling his eyes, but the twitch of his lips gave him away. “Glad my suffering is so entertaining for you.”

Sam’s gaze shifted back to you, sharper now, though still friendly. For a moment, something flickered in his expression, something you couldn’t quite name—like he was trying to figure you out, to match you against a bigger puzzle piece. 

—

It wasn’t until later, after you stood up to grab a second cup of coffee, that Sam’s laughter faltered mid-sentence.

Bucky had teased, “Careful on how many cups you have today, doll, or you’ll be up all night,” and you’d waved him off with a grin as you headed inside. The moment felt lighthearted, ordinary—until it wasn’t.

Sam’s words slowed, and his easy grin faded as his stare turned distant. He frowned, like he was reaching for a memory that refused to fully surface. The breeze played with the edges of the tablecloth, tousling the air around him with an uncanny calmness. When you came back into view, walking toward the table, the sunlight catching in your hair and clothes, something clicked.

He knew you.

The realisation gripped him with a bone-deep certainty. His fingers tightened around the coffee cup as fragments of a memory—fragile, but vivid — manifested his mind. 

He’d been waiting for some revelation, like maybe you were from a different planet— but this recognition… it can’t be… right?

“Sam?” you asked softly, sitting back down. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, shaking his head to clear it, but the weight in his expression didn’t lift. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Just thought of something stupid.”

Bucky glanced at him, his superhuman hearing clearly picking up how he was shifting in his seat. But before he could say anything, you reached out and laid a hand on Sam’s arm. Your touch was light, grounding.

“It’s not stupid,” you said gently. “Go ahead.”

Sam hesitated, his lips working as he tried to find the words. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost reluctant. “I feel like I know you. From somewhere.” He frowned, searching your face. “But that’s crazy.”

You exchanged a glance with Bucky, a knowing look: he remembers. 

Sam’s sharp eyes caught the look, and his suspicions resurfaced.

“Or is it?” he pressed.

Taking a slow breath, you folded your hands in your lap. “I think you do know me,” you admitted, your voice steady but quiet. “But not like this.”

Sam tilted his head, his confusion evident. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

His gaze searched yours, and then it hit him like a punch to the chest. His breath caught. “Wait,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission…” He paused, swallowing hard as his throat worked against the restraints memory. “When Riley died. I remember—” His words faltered. 

The table seemed to still, the sounds of the bustling street fading into the background like a muffled echo. You could feel the weight of his grief in the space between his words.  

It was the day Riley fell from the sky.  

The memory rushed back. Riley spiralling down, his parachute shredded, Sam diving after him with everything he had—but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t reach him in time. He couldn’t stop the impact.  

Riley took his last breath.  

Right in front of his eyes.  

Sam could still feel the crushing helplessness, the raw, unbearable desperation of watching it happen, all while being powerless to change it. In the haze of grief and adrenaline, he remembered something else—someone else. A presence, just at the edges of his vision.  

You.  

You were there, a ripple of calm in the chaos. He hadn’t understood it at the time, thought he might have imagined you.

But now, sitting in a cafe, he met your eyes again. Now, the same calm rippled over him. It was quiet, steady, and unshakable—just like it had been back then, when he needed it most. 

His eyes narrowed. “You were there?”

Your chest tightened, the pain of that moment still echoing in your now human heart. You nodded, your voice almost trembling. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

Sam exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair as if the confession had knocked the wind out of him. He ran a hand down his face, his expression torn between disbelief and a reluctant kind of understanding. “I thought I imagined you,” he muttered, his voice low, frayed at the edges. “Thought I was losing it.”

“Most people think I’m not real,” you said gently, leaning forward slightly, as though closing the space between you could soften the blow. “But…I’ve always been there. I was the Spirit of Suffering. My purpose was to comfort those in pain.”

Sam’s gaze lifted to yours, trying to reconcile your existence with the impossible truth you had just revealed. 

A decade ago, he would’ve called bullshit on this. But since then, he learned that weirder things have been true.

For a long moment, he said nothing. 

Then he turned to Bucky, his eyebrows raised, “So when you said she was ‘getting used to being human,’ this is what you meant?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

Sam let out a long breath, dragging a hand across his collarbones. Then, after a beat, he gestured between the two of you. “Okay, so Spirit of suffering. Got it. But how in the hell did you end up with this guy?” He jabbed a thumb at Bucky, his tone hovering somewhere between bewildered and amused, trying to move on from the pain.

You couldn’t help but smile, the fondness in your expression unmistakable. The question deserved an honest answer. 

You leaned back in your chair, drawing a deep breath. “I wandered the world for eons in search of sorrow to ease,” you began, “But when I found Bucky…he was different.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he said nothing, letting you continue.

You hesitated, the memories threatening to overwhelm you, but you pressed on. “I saw everything they did to him— Most people would’ve crumbled under a fraction of it. I’ve seen people turn bitter, angry, and evil. He should have broken. By every measure, he should have. But he didn’t.”

Sam blinked, his expression a mix of shock and…—understanding, maybe. “So you’re telling me James Buchanan Barnes caught the attention of an ancient entity?”

“Basically,” you said with a grin.

“No big deal,” Sam shook his head slowly, disbelief colouring his tone. “Just another Tuesday night for Bucky.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“And then what?” He continued, “You just…introduced yourself one day?”

Your smile turned wistful as you shook your head. “About three years ago, I started borrowing time in a physical form. It took a lot of energy, but I’d meet him at night. We’d talk, sometimes for hours. That’s how we fell in love.”

“Wait,” Sam’s sharp eyes darted to Bucky, narrowing. “Is that why you always bailed on movie nights? You were sneaking off to hang out with your spirit girlfriend?”

Bucky’s smirk deepened as he leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest. “Wouldn’t you?”

Sam opened his mouth to retort but paused, considering it. After a moment, he nodded grudgingly. “Fair enough. Continue.”

You chuckled softly, but the humour faded as the memory of Bucky’s near-death surfaced. 

Your hand found his under the table, your fingers curling around his. “A few months ago, Bucky was dying. I—I couldn’t let him go. So I did the only thing I could. I sacrificed my immortality to save his life. It meant giving up everything I was, but it also meant I could finally be with him. As an equal. As a human.”

Sam blinked, visibly processing this. “You gave up eternity?”

“For him?” You smiled softly, glancing at Bucky. “In a heartbeat.”

Sam leaned back, his hands thrown up in mock surrender. “Damn. I’m impressed.”

“And then,” Bucky said, his voice softer now, as he squeezed your hand, “we got married.”

Sam stared at the two of you, his expression shifting from amusement to something more earnest. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I’ve seen some weird stuff— but this?” He shook his head. “This takes the cake. This is even weirder than the talking raccoon.”

You chuckled softly, the warmth in your chest spreading. 

Slowly Sam’s expression shifted, the easy humour in his eyes replaced by something deeper. His voice dropped, steady but careful.

Whatever was on his mind, he had to say it now, before the moment passed.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his tone filled with sincerity that left no room for doubt. “For what you did… when Riley…” He hesitated, the name lingering like a fragile thread. “I didn’t understand it then, and I’m not sure I ever will. But thank you anyway.”

Your throat tightened, but you managed a soft, reassuring smile. “You’re stronger than you realise,” you said. “I just gave you a little push.”

Sam sat back in his chair. For so long, he'd carried the weight of that day, replaying it in his mind, searching for what he could’ve done differently. But now, hearing your words, he felt something change. It wasn’t erasure—Riley’s loss would always be a deep scar to him—but it was like you’d given him permission to stop digging, stop obsessing.

You’d seen so much, and yet you were there, barely seen but steady, offering a calm he’d mistaken for his own strength. 

Maybe it was.

Maybe the solace you gave him back then had become part of him.

For the first time, the memory didn’t feel so jagged. It was still painful, but now it held a bittersweet comfort. Riley’s name didn’t stick in his throat as much as it used to.

Sam let out a long breath.

“You were there,” he said again, quieter this time. “Maybe that’s why I’m still here too.”

—

You ended up talking more, understanding why Bucky liked Sam so much.

You told him how you’d recently started delving into human literature— works you’d never had the chance to indulge in before. Of course, indulging was a foreign concept to you, a novelty that you were still figuring out.  

You also told him about your newfound love for coffee, though your excitement was dampened when you mentioned heading back for a third cup and being met with Bucky’s firm, no-nonsense suggestion: “Decaf this time.”  

You sighed dramatically, “It just doesn’t taste the same.”  

Sam raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Bucky’s arms crossed with the hint of affection. “The first time she tried coffee, she had like six cups in a day. She jittered for hours and didn’t sleep at all. It was like watching an electric squirrel.”  

Sam laughed.

When you returned with your begrudgingly decaf coffee, Sam greeted you with a wide grin, shaking his head. “Can’t believe you’re married to a spirit wizard.”  

“She’s not a wizard,” Bucky corrected, his voice tinged with mock irritation. “We hashed this out last night. She’s more like a witch.”  

“Okay, okay,” Sam’s grin widened, clearly enjoying himself. “Better update your notebook, then.”  

You laughed, unable to resist teasing. “Oh, he has. First thing he did. He’s obsessed. Have you seen the pie charts in that thing?”

Sam’s booming laugh filled the air. “Oh, yeah. The graphs for the mission? Priceless.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “He also has pros and cons lists for everything. Everything.”

Sam turned to Bucky with mock solemnity. “You made a pros and cons list for taking a witch wife, too?”

“Actually, no.” Bucky didn’t miss a beat, his voice steady and sure. “Marrying her is the one decision I didn’t need a list for.”

Before you could react, Bucky leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, quick but meaningful.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Love. Disgusting.”

The three of you shared another round of laughter, and for a moment the looming shadow of your collective pasts had been forgotten.

Bucky had been your first and only love, but now, with Sam, you were forming your first friendship. As you watched Sam tease Bucky, a warmth bloomed in your chest. 

Was this what family felt like? What friendship meant? 

As an immortal, you had only ever seen the broken pieces: the pain of abusive parents, the weight of generational trauma, children gone too soon, friends betrayed, lives shattered. You’d seen grief consume people—just as it had consumed Sam when he lost Riley. But now, as a mortal, you were beginning to piece together the other side of it. 

For the first time, you understood why people sought connection, why they clung to each other through joy and heartbreak. This was it—  the beauty of pain, a symptom of life.

-End.

Additional stories with Spirit!reader are coming! lmk if you wanna be tagged in those!

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

[buckyalpine]

I'm here for some angst and fluff rn. Bucky being sad no one trusts him after his metal arm is taken off during a fight.

-

Bucky stared at the dark grey metal that fell to the floor with a clank, his vibranium arm no longer attached to his body with just a few pushes to his joint. The fight ended, leaving the soldier lost as he picked his arm off the floor, fingers trembling around the cold material. It felt dead in his hand, the emotional weight of it far heavier than anything else he'd ever carried.

"Did you know they could do that?" Sam asked, eyeing Bucky carefully while he locked his arm in place, readjusting it with a swing. The gold plates shifted to recalibrate, his fingers flexing while trying to silence his thoughts that begin to run a million miles a minute.

"No"

Bucky trudged down the hall, his heart sinking when he could hear the soft humming from inside his apartment, his sweet girl already waiting for him to come home. He usually felt the weight of the world life off his shoulders when you were around.

Not today.

Not when he knew what he really was.

What he had been all along.

He let out a strained breath before rummaging for his keys and opening the door, the smell of tea, sugar and vanilla wafting through the kitchen and living room. He thought about escaping as soon as he toed his boots off, locking himself in the shower and calling it an early night, of course you'd understand but his body won over what his mind was screaming.

Your face lit up as soon as you heard the door creak open, setting down the book you were reading, excited to see Bucky after he'd been gone for days for a mission. Your happiness was short lived as he padded into the living room, the strained smile on his face doing nothing to mask the pain he was feeling. You could see the turmoil in his eyes, waves of emotion crashing over him before he could surface.

"What's wrong, bub" You coo softly, opening your arms for him. Bucky kept his jacket on, avoiding melting into your hold even though he craved it more than ever.

"Do people still think I'm dangerous?" He asks quietly, shifting away from you when he feels you pressed against his arm. Something so soft and sweet as you definitely didn't have any business being near something so terrible, disgusting, murderous-

"What? No baby, why would you say that?" Your heart breaks at the tears that begin to well in his eyes, his nose and cheeks reddening as he suppresses all the emotions that desperately want to bubble over.

"I-I had no idea others would be able to remove it" He whispers, chewing his lip till he nearly draws blood, avoiding your gaze to stare at the floor instead. The fluffy rug turns blurry as tears begin to escape, his throat growing unbearably tight. "M'still a monster" His voice cracks before the first cry slips out.

Your pull him into your chest as sobs begin to wrack his body, letting him lay on you while you wrap him safely in your arms. The feeling of your affection is too much for Bucky, he doesn't deserve it but he needs it; he feels selfish as he allows you to hold him, hiding his face into the crook of your neck.

"What happened, sweet boy" You coo against his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks. He continued to sniffle between whimpers, trying to calm down, fresh waves of emotion holding him down, his metal arm gripping onto the sofa cushions.

His arm was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

"During a fight" Bucky let out a shuddered breath before continuing, shame seeping through his veins. What would you think of him if you knew the people who had healed him still didn't trust him, "We were trying to calm things down. I didn't mean to do anything-I didn't-I was holding back, we wanted to talk things over, she-"

He bit his lip again as it trembled, still feelings the spots that were pushed, sending his arm to the floor, "I didn't even know what was happening. She hit my shoulder in a few spots and my arm fell right off"

You stopped your ministrations, your heart breaking into two hearing the pain in his voice. Bucky sounded so small, like an admonished child scared to tell the truth. He curled himself up further, still flexing his fingers, almost fearful his arm would fall off again without warning. You moved your arms to hug him tighter, wishing you could take away at least half the pain his was feeling.

"I didn't know they could do that" He said with defeat, still softly sniffling while you kissed the top of his head.

"You're not a monster baby" You knew how much work Bucky had put in, how much he struggled to get a hold of his mind again, how long it took for him to learn to trust others, to trust himself.

"Then why" You knew he was desperate hearing the plead in his voice. Why. Why did others still have control over his own body. Why were others still able to do things to him without his knowledge.

Why?

"I wish they'd told you why, baby boy" You brought your hand to gently tip his chin up, making him look at you, "Perhaps they have their reasons. Regardless, your heart is pure, Bucky" Your hands moved under his jacket and tshirt, stroking his bare skin, the feel of your pure hands already soothing his aching heart.

"They don't trust me" He sighed, sitting up again as his mind swirled. You didn't let him spiral for long, straddling his lap while his arms moved on their own to wrap around your waist.

"They do, bub" you shook your head, cupping his cheeks so he'd look at you. "They took you in and healed you because you were worth healing. You deserved it. I need you to remember my sweet Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is a good man. The opposite of dangerous, a soft, sweet boy"

"Do-do you trust me" His voice was small again, looking at you through his lashes, nervously fidgeting with the hem of the Henley you'd stolen.

"I trust you with my life, Bucky" You took his metal hand, brushing your lips against the gold ridges before kissing each of his cool finger tips. "Every single part of you. Your mind. Your body. All of it"

The mental exhaustion of the day began to take it's toll as his eyes grew heavy, cuddling into you while you rocked him in a comfortable silence. You smiled at the soft snores you heard moments later as Bucky fell asleep in your arms.

"Let's get you to bed, baby" you whispered, gently waking him and taking a quick warm shower before jumping into bed. He was right back in your arms as soon as you pulled the sheets back, the grating voices not so loud any more.

Regardless of what the world though, had you.

A pure sweet angel.

She trusted him.

That had to mean something.

It would be a long road of healing but at least his had his angel to guide him.

[notanactressyayy]

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . WandaNat x fem! virgin! reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . [based on this request.] Natasha and Wanda's relationship was going well... when talking generally. — they completed each other. but something was still missing. and there was no better person to reach out to, other than you, their closest friend. will you allow them to show you a whole new concept of.. love?

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — established relationship, soft doms WandaNat, subby reader, little bit of angst on the begining if you look very closely, swearing, reader's first time, threesome, making out, Wanda's enchanted strap, breast play (r receives), penetration (r receives), oral (N receives), multiple orgasms, cum eating, pet names, aftercare.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors! feedback is highly appreciated!! <3

never thought it was so hard to write a threesome 😭

divider credits: @anitalenia . ݁₊

small droplets of sweat started to build on Wanda's hairline, ready to roll down — soft pants and huffs leaving her mouth as she desperately tries to increase the pace, the pace that was already fast — she tries to accelerate even more. to get Natasha there, like she always did. but for some reason, it wasn't working. it wasn't being of any use. no matter how she tried to change positions, or angles.. Natasha just breathed heavily, with no result.

"stop, stop.." Natasha pants out and pats Wanda's shoulder, multiple times. "stop, baby. 'ts okay."

the woman reluctantly slows down her movements and groans, a mixture of tiredness and frustration.. and a little bit of sadness. right now, she was feeling so, so incapable, worthless. since when did that happen? since when a woman couldn't even bring her girlfriend an orgasm?

eventually, she pulls the strap out of her, making Natasha hiss quietly due sensitivity. she turns on her back and removes the strap off herself, waving her hand to disenchant it. her hand reaches out and puts the toy on the nightstand. the witch's eyes squeeze tight, clearing her throat as she does her best to catch her breath again.

Natasha of course, didn't need Wanda to tell her how she was feeling. as a spy, and like anybody else in this situation, she knew it. the russian weakly turns on her side and wraps her arm around Wanda's waist, placing her head on her shoulder and looking up into her eyes. deep down, both of them knew this wasn't physical.. it was phychological. lately, whenever it came to sex, both their minds couldn't completely focus on each other — and it wasn't fault of either of them. their toughts always wandered to her, that girl.. you.

"i'm sorry," Wanda whispers, wrapping her arms around Natasha and pulling her to herself. she sighs heavily and nuzzles into her soft red locks. "i'm sorry."

her heart was at war. battling to decide between giving into her desires, or holding back, in respect to Natasha. she just didn't know that the russian felt the same way. both of them did towards you. you're their closest friend, not an avenger, but an ordinary girl. thinking about that, it made sense — two people with a fucked up past, heavy emotional baggage, needed someone like you in their lives. someone soft, gentle, almost innocent, to say at least. the way you dressed, the way you smelled. always captivated the redheads. in the middle of all the chaos they called life, you were their beautiful, sweet escape of routine.

"don't apologize." Natasha replies, voice low and husky as she traces imaginary patterns on Wanda's chest. "i can't read minds like you do, so why don't you tell me what you're thinking about?"

Wanda chuckles at the remark, and turns her head to look at her girlfriend. she takes a slow, shaky breath again. she knows she can't hide anything from Natasha, and wouldn't try to. "look. can you listen to everything i got to say, before making any conclusions or saying anything else?"

Natasha nods, giving her a small, genuine smile, that showed patience. so Wanda started talking again.

"it's.. it's not easy to talk about this, i admit. it's like a taboo, and stuff.. we've been together for three years now, and i love you. i love you so much. i always tell you that and i always mean it. we help each other, we work together, you're the perfect fit for me, Nat. but.. lately, i've been thinking a lot about.."

"i know." Natasha interrupts anyway, and her smile doesn't vanish. "i know you have. i see it. and god, I think about her too."

surprise immediately shows in Wanda's wide eyes, and she exhales the air she was holding. relief washed over her being, even if Natasha hadn't elaborated yet.

"Wanda, darling." she chuckles, nuzzling closer and placing her hand on the woman's cheek. "we struggle sometimes. and it's not our fault. she's a ray of sunshine. it's everything we need, don't you think?"

"are you saying that we should consider.." Wanda says, in a softer tone.. her hand finds it's way to Natasha's back, nails tracing her spine. the mere thought already got her in a better mood. "inviting.. her.. in?"

"yeah." Natasha bits on her bottom lip. both of them had never tried a threesome before, but it seemed like a good idea. it felt like a good idea. if they both had thoughts and maybe even feelings for you, why don't act on them? "let's invite her tomorrow. tomorrow night."

"oh, Natasha." Wanda chuckles, understanding the implication. she leans down to peck Natasha's lips, and looks at her with a new sparkle in her eyes. "are you sure? completely sure about this? i never, ever want to hurt you, or make things weird between us—"

"we trust her. and basically, the only reason that we've been failing is because we want her and don't act on it." Natasha raises her eyebrows and pokes Wanda's nose, then wraps her arms around her neck. "and also. she's not a child. we'll talk about everything, and if it doesn't work out, we'll just seek another solution."

they both stay silent for a moment, and Wanda agrees. she giggles to herself, pulling the blankets over them and snuggling against Natasha, their legs tangling. they went to sleep happily, the tension from before eased because of you. they would just wait for the next day, and hope for the best.

₊˚⊹♡

the word to describe what you were feeling in that moment was: anticipation.

Natasha and Wanda had never invited you over to their place like this: at night, with no special occasion. they had told you they wanted to see you again, and to talk about a few things. you had absolutely no clue about what it was, so jumping to the most probable conclusion was what you did: a casual catch up.

yeah, for sure.

Wanda was the one to open the door after you knocked, and she shamelessly looked at you from head to toe, which got your eyes to snap open. you cleared your throat as she took in the sight of you, in a small, pink dress that covered just a little more than your ass — hair falling down your shoulders, a light makeup.

"Natasha," she calls out, tilting her head towards you. "you gotta see this,"

okay, you were so confused. first, one of your friends that was taken, clearly looks at you in a not so friendly way, and now, she's calling her girlfriend to do the same? you stand there, flustered, a little disoriented.

the other redhead comes. she opens the door wider so she could see you better, and stops in track when her eyes land on your figure. they exchange looks, and silently communicate — as if saying, why didn't we think of this before?

"come in, sweetheart." the russian says and allows you inside the house, closing the door right after.

you observe as the two of them talk between themselves, quickly finishing so they could return their attention to you. they notice how nervous the greeting had made you, and decide to get straight to the business. they sit on the couch, letting a little space between them and patting on it, so you could sit. you place your purse on the entrance counter and chuckle nervously, then walk towards them and sit where they wanted you to.

"so... hi!" you finally speak, still feeling a little awkward. "uhm.. is everything okay with you two?"

"absolutely." Wanda nods, shifting on her seat. her knee brushes against yours as she places her hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your jawline. "you just look so beautiful right now, we couldn't resist."

as she speaks, Natasha's hand lands on your thigh, and you were absolutely sure you looked redder than a tomato right now. but it still felt wrong. you gently placed your hand above both of theirs to still their touches.

"i don't get it."

"alright, dorogaya. that's the whole reason we invited you over." Natasha says and Wanda nods, allowing the russian to explain. "first, we want you to know that is absolutely alright if you don't feel comfortable with this. you can just say 'no' and leave, we're not forcing you into something you don't want to."

by this moment, just with those vague words, combined with their previous actions, you had a slight idea of what this was about, and it made you shiver. ever since you met them, you had a little crush on both, but they were avengers. superheroes, powerful, and older than you. they're gorgeous women that unfortunately were taken— well, you felt lucky just for having their friendship.

"we've been thinking about you. a lot." Natasha admits with a deep breath and purposefully scoots closer, making you almost a little sandwich with them. "the way you talk to us.. the way you look at us whenever we're together."

"like right now. the way your eyes are sparkling." Wanda breathes, her arms sneaking around your waist and her chin on your shoulder.

"you're so perfect.. so precious to us, detka." Natasha whispers and wraps her arms around you too, tilting her head and pressing a kiss on Wanda's forehead, then on yours. "so we want to know, if you're okay with trying out with us."

a deep sigh leaves you, and you melt like a puddle between the women. your weight leans on Wanda's body, and your eyes travel from one to the other. your defenses vanished, completely, and the thought of this being.. uncommon, was buried deep down in your mind.

"trying out?" your voice sounds more like a whimper, and your hand grabs Natasha's wrist, that still rested on your thigh.

"yeah.. trying out." Wanda whispers on your ear, her hand turning your hair into a makeshift ponytail, exposing your neck for them. "just for tonight.. then we'll give you time to think."

"but i never.." you stutter, feeling Natasha's warm breath on your neck, as her lips began trailing kisses there — right above your pulse. "i-i've never.."

"it's okay." Wanda breathes in your ear, watching as Natasha took her sweet time to taste you, feel the softness of your skin. "we're gonna take care of you."

"i never.. i never had.." you continue, voice becoming weaker and weaker. "i never went beyond kisses.."

that was new information. Natasha slowly pulled away from your neck and exchanged a look with Wanda. so you were still a virgin. that just turned them on even more. they'd be the first ones to play with you, make you their good girl.

"god, sweetheart." the witch purrs, her hands cupping your waist and giving it a little squeeze. "you have no idea what you're doing to us."

the action coaxes a soft, needy sound out your throat, head lolling backwards against her shoulder.

"please, baby. let us have you." Natasha begs. you don't gotta be asked twice.

₊˚⊹♡

the room was dark — burgundy walls, the yellow light of the dim lamp casting on the furniture and being the only source of illumination. you couldn't put in words the way you felt. Natasha, naked, the freckles on her pale skin on display for you. toned breasts, muscular arms. red hair naturally wavy, not straightened like she usually had it. she looked like a true goddess. her gaze, hungry yet tender, had you frozen in place.

Wanda's hands guided you towards the bed — her chest against your back, an amused chuckle leaving her. you looked so innocent. it was clear you never even thought of the possibility of that.

"look at her," Wanda coos. Natasha's eyes remain glued on you, but travel to your body as Wanda starts to slowly get that dress off you. her pointer and thumb pull the zipper down and the straps fall down your shoulders, revealing your bra. she kisses your shoulder and places her palms flat on your stomach, letting them roam downwards, to your hips, and pulling the pink fabric of the dress down, as it pools around your feet. the woman hum together in satisfaction, being allowed to see your half-naked body. "such a precious little thing. now go with Nat and watch me strip."

you couldn't help but blush a little bit under their gaze, and the way they were addressing to you. doing as you're told, you climb on the bed, and Nat spreads her legs. your heart hammers against your ribcage. she only did that so you could lay against her chest, but accidentally — or not — your eyes landed on her intimacy, and the slick arousal that was almost dripping down her thighs.

"oh my god, Natasha." you moan, allowing her to pull your back against her chest. she smirks, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside.

now, it's Wanda's turn to get the unnecessary clothes off her. she firstly discard her blouse, then her jeans, and lingerie — she uses her foot to kick the pile of clothes away, and walks to the nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the.. toy. it does get you a little tense. but they had a way of showing you there was no reason to be. with a wave of her hand, the strap is enchanted, and she will be able to feel everything. everything she dreamed of with you.

"we will take good care of you, kotenok." Natasha whispers and grabs your chin, tilting your head up — and kissing you.

a kiss never felt so good. throughout your whole life, you never had a kiss like this one — warm, slow, needed. her tongue mingled with yours, slender fingers tangling in your hair to keep you in place. Wanda watches with a hungry, almost predatory gaze as she sees her two favourite women making out. she climbs on the bed with you and hooks her fingers on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down — your hips instinctively lifting to make her work easier. you were slowly letting yourself go.

Natasha releases your lips, panting. her hands pull you back even more against herself, pressing your body against hers and go to your breasts, kneading the skin, slowly, massaging them, knowing exactly how to pleasure you. you moan sweetly, throwing your head back against her shoulder as her fingers pinch your hard nipples.

"that's it, baby." Wanda hums, satisfied with the scene. she liked that you were comfortable with them, which meant she could do everything she wanted.

you don't even realize as they start to adjust your body, the positions — Natasha brings her knees up and spread them a little, Wanda bringing your legs around Natasha's, so you were completely spread and open.

"oh, fuck." she says, knees digging into the mattress as she takes a good look between your legs. "such a beautiful pussy. can't believe we're the only ones to have it."

her words make you gasp, and your back arches a little — but before you could do anything, her cock was already stretching you out, with little effort. the woman groans, placing her hands on your waist and hovering you. she leans up and kisses Natasha, a low chuckle leaving her as she whispers. "so warm and wet. she's a perfect girl."

"we're not gonna let you go," Natasha whispers in your ear. her arms wrap around your waist, securing you, and with that, Wanda starts moving.

her movements are gentle — not too slow, not too fast, showing you how it was to be deliciously filled up. the new, foreign sensations consume you, breath coming out in soft gasps. your eyes look at the redhead who was fucking you, half-lidded, in pure bliss, adoration. the strap drags up your sensitive walls, until the tip was the only thing inside of you, then pushes back in, discovering spots you had never found before with your own fingers.

"oh my god," you grip Wanda's shoulder with one hand, and intertwine your fingers of the free hand with one of Natasha's that held your waist. your hips buck upwards, matching the movements with Wanda's cock pounding inside you. "feel so good,"

"you're so tight, detka," Wanda mutters, feeling her climax starting to build up. she had to speed up, had to feel you more, clenching around her so perfectly.

"s-shit... ah.." you moan and arch your back, doing your best not to fall apart that quickly. but Natasha doesn't allow you to hold back.

her hand slides down your stomach, to where Wanda was connected with you, and starts to rub lazy circles on your clitoris, looking up at her girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. "you can come for us,"

"i'm close too," Wanda moans, head lolling back as she grips your hips tighter, chasing after her so needed release, which doesn't take long to come.

your vision starts to blur a little, not being able to focus on anything specific. your eyelids fall shut, and all the sounds around fade — the first real orgasm you ever had washing over you. an almost pornographic moan echoes on the room, coming from your throat, and your legs tremble around Natasha's — cum coating Wanda's strap, juices rolling down your legs and mixing with Natasha's who was under you. Wanda's climax comes right after and she quickly pulls out, painting your stomach white as you laid there, dumb and cute, drained.

Wanda rolls on her back and closes her eyes, the high still present. she hadn't felt that good in so, so long, she had missed it so much. now it's Natasha's turn to take control.

she carefully lays you down next to her and licks Wanda's release from your stomach, missing the taste of it. she takes some on her fingers and point them at your mouth. "open up,"

you blush softly, opening your mouth and welcoming Natasha's fingers in. your tongue swirls around her digits, swallowing obediently.

"good job, malyshka." she praises, cradling the side of your head and pressing a kiss on your forehead. you look at her up and down, then weakly sits up on the bed.

"wanna taste you too, Natty," you say, and it drives her crazy.

undoubtedly, Natasha was more than dripping, and yes, she wanted you to teach you how to eat a woman out. she leans back against the headboard of the bed and intertwines her fingers with her tired girlfriend, winking down at her. she spreads her legs. "come over here, princess."

your legs, still shakily, dig into the mattress and you settle yourself on your knees, hands holding Natasha's thighs apart as your face approaches her core. she was so sensitive and achy.. and you'd repay her, for everything she had done. it shocked her, you didn't show inexperience — your tongue licked a long strip, slipping between her folds and brushing inside her, stimulating her g-spot and making her mouth agape. her fingers gently tug on your hair, pulling you closer, pressing your face against her cunt. your nose brushes her clit, and it doesn't take long for Natasha to cum too.

"oh, malyshka.." she stutters out between moans and whimpers, hips bucking upwards as she released. "s-such a.. perfect.. mhm.. girl.."

you swallow her sweet juices, pressing a kiss on her inner thigh and pulling your face back. just by watching both of their expressions, a tired and proud expression showed on your face, knowing you did a great job.

₊˚⊹♡

now, the digital clock on the nightstand showed 2AM. the sheets were crumpled, blankets all over the floor, long forgotten. you laid there, naked and vulnerable on the bed, waiting for Wanda and Natasha to come back to the room.

when they did, they were both wearing silky robes — Natasha held aspirin and a bottle of water, and Wanda, a cloth, and an additional robe that they hoped would fit you.

they walk towards you and Natasha places the items on the nightstand, sitting on the edge of the bed. she carefully handles your body and pulls you onto her lap, holding you closely, your side against her chest. you felt warm again, fuzzy, happy.

"you were perfect, sweetheart." Wanda smiles, carefully spreading your legs and using the cloth to clean the sticky cum still there. you whimper, feeling a little stingy and sore.

"we got aspirin for tomorrow, in case you need it." Natasha grabs the water bottle and opens it, bringing it up to your lips, helping you sip on it. "there you go..."

"now, we'll sleep. and tomorrow we are gonna prepare you a nice warm bath." Wanda chuckles and puts away the cloth, closing your legs afterwards.

you all settle on the bed comfortably again, having to grab the blanket from the floor and cover you up. you sigh softly, lying between them and gathering courage to speak.

"was this just... a playtime?"

that question was expected, and they were ready for it. they sweetly smile and replied in sync.

"you are our missing piece."

para o anon que fez o pedido: mto mto obrigada!! eu sei que adicionei várias coisas, porém eu precisava de um contexto para encaixar o seu pedido. espero que tenha ficado bom! 🥹

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Sniffle any louder

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state

Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread

Word count - 2k

A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry

Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.

Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.

Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.

Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.

She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.

This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.

Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.

After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.

Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.

Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.

"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.

Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.

She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.

Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.

"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.

"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."

Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.

"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.

"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."

You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.

"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.

"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."

"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.

"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.

You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.

Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.

"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.

You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.

Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling