#venusbarnes5k

[teamatsumu]

Pancakes & Guns

Summary: Being in love with Bucky Barnes is hard. Not because of his trauma or his rocky past. But because at any given moment, someone is trying to kill him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,231

Warnings: Violence, swearing.

A/N: Writing this for the lovely @venusbarnes​‘ 5k challenge. And the prompt is in bold!

Main Masterlist

The compound was completely silent, and understandably so. It was a Sunday, which meant that except for emergencies, no one was on call. No mission briefings or training or gym. Everyone was either sleeping in, watching TV, or doing some other idle activity that you didn't care to know. It was peaceful. You loved it. 

Bucky was lying on his stomach next to you, starfished on the mattress with his limbs tangled with the sheets and blankets. His hair was sprawled on the pillow, covering his face almost entirely. His lips were parted slightly as he snored, cheek squished against the pillow. Occasionally, his eyelids would flutter. 

Maybe it was creepy that you were staring at him like this, but you didn't care. Very rarely did you see Bucky relaxed and at peace. Most of the time, you either saw that same face twisted into panic, pain, anger or caution. He would either have a bruise blooming on his cheek, dark purple surrounding an eye, or blood pouring from some gash he'd received. Even now, you could see a fading scar just below his jaw, from when his face had been rammed into a wall. You pulled a face just at the thought of it. 

You didn't wake him up. He deserved the sleep. Instead, you quietly got up and left the room to return to your own, beginning your morning routine. Your eyes were still heavy lidded with sleep, limbs a little difficult to move. Looking at the clock, you realized you had slept for almost 14 hours. Right there. In his bed. You sighed but let it slip. It was little reward for the amount of beating you were taking and giving these days whenever you went anywhere with him. And you had gotten up and left before he woke up. So he wouldn't know you spent the night. 

Apparently three years of hiding in Wakanda had done nothing to improve Bucky's image in the US. People hated him just as much, and the anger took an entire new level when Tony inaugurated him into the Avengers. Even though the ones who supported him were very vocal about it, the ones who didn't made themselves known too. You wished it was just protests and cyber bullying, but it wasn't. Bucky got attacked almost regularly, whether it was by an emotional person out in the street or a skilled striker who had planned it for months. 

Secret Service had offered to get a security detail for Bucky after he had been pardoned for his crimes, but he refused, saying he could handle it. And on most days, he could. But it meant more bruises on his body, bandages covering a lot of skin, more blood. You hated seeing him like that. But you knew Bucky. He wanted to deal with this mess himself. He wouldn't accept help. He was too stubborn like that. 

He had returned last night, grumbling and complaining about some 40 year old man hitting him repeatedly with a sack of potatoes on the street. It was beyond hilarious, and you nearly fell off the couch, tears streaming from your eyes, breathless with mirth. As an apology for laughing at his injured state, you had offered to patch him up, and you did. You had sterilized all his cuts and bruises and bandaged him up before he flopped down on the bed. Then, with him lying on his stomach and you sitting next to him, your back against the headboard, you had talked for hours. 

If only. If only you could lie next to him, have his arm around you, cuddle you, press his lips gently to your forehead as you both fell asleep. He was mere inches from you, yet he had never felt so far from your starved heart. 

You had liked Bucky for a long time. Long before he came back from Wakanda. Hell, even before he left for Wakanda. Somehow, you had always felt his innocence. Call it instinct. In Tony's words, call it a schoolgirl crush. But you knew he wasn't capable of the crimes he had committed. And you had been right. Bucky was a scared child on the inside. He hated fighting. He hated conflict. He just wanted to live in peace. According to Sam, it was the 100 year old man in him speaking. 

You settled on the couch in the living room half an hour later, watching some crap reality TV show you had never watched before and shoveling corn flakes into your mouth. No one else was around, and the compound was quieter than ever. You enjoyed the silence, no matter how disconcerting it was after hearing punches and gunshots the entire week. The TV volume was turned down low, and that was okay. You weren't really listening. Your mind was too preoccupied by a certain blue eyed soldier. 

Said blue eyed soldier walked into the room 15 minutes later, wearing sweats. His hair looked like a bird's nest. You snorted at his appearance and he flopped down on the couch next to you with a groan.

"Morning." Your tone was amused. "How are the potato injuries?" 

He didn't reply, just shooting you a middle finger. You giggled and returned to your bowl, the flakes in it were now soggy, and you placed it on the coffee table. You didn't like soggy cereal. 

"How'd you sleep?" You asked, watching him run a hand over his face, subconsciously picking at the scar on his jaw. It had become a habit over the past week, and all it did was open up the wound all over again. You slapped his hand away. That had become a habit of yours. 

You and Bucky had clicked instantly after his return from Wakanda. You had cracked a joke during lunch that had made him snort and choke on his food. It had taken Steve slapping him vigorously on the back and three huge gulps of water to calm down, his now misty eyes meeting yours across the table, and that was that. 

You two became fast friends after that. Your trains of thought were mostly the same, and that helped you two get along very well. Of all the people in the Compound, you understood him the most, just as he understood you. It helped that you were so tuned to each other, whether it was everyday lazy activities, or running long, grueling missions together. 

"Eh. Good enough." He answered your question, staring at your bowl. "Why are you eating that crap? It's Sunday. Sunday means big breakfast." 

You felt your lips twitch. "Does it?" 

He nodded and stood up. "I'll get changed and we'll go get some pancakes or something. On me. For last night."

You frowned. "I thought that was a sorry for laughing at you. We're already even."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You want breakfast or not?" 

You raised your hands in surrender, before getting up and walking to your room just as he left for his. 

Twenty minutes later, both of you were piling into your car, and it hit you in just that instant. 

"Should we really be going out?" You voiced as the car engine sprung to life. "I mean, you did get into a potato fight yesterday. Who knows, someone might throw eggs at you today."

Bucky sighed and shook his head as you dissolved into laughter. 

The ride was mostly uneventful. You and Bucky didn't have to talk a lot in your time spent together. Both of you were okay with being comfortably silent. You stopped at a relatively small profile breakfast diner somewhere in Manhattan, but before you could leave the car, you noticed a man standing some twenty feet away, eyeing you two through the windshield. 

"Hey celebrity, you've already been recognized." You sighed, discreetly pointing at the man. Bucky groaned and shook his head.

"We could go somewhere else?" He offered. 

"Nope." You gave him a look. "You promised me pancakes. I'm going to get those damn pancakes."

That got a chuckle out of him as he removed his seat belt. "You got it boss."

You regretted your decision less than a minute later, because as soon as you exited the car and Bucky joined you on your side, a gunshot sounded in the air. It was only a moment or so, some lady on the sidewalk screamed, and silence followed for mere moments before more gunshots came, one after another, so quick that they had to be from a machine gun. 

"Get down!" Bucky screamed as you pulled open the car door again, his body ramming straight into you and forcing both of you inside the car. You ducked behind the steering wheel, Bucky's weight nearly crushing you. Your mind went into overdrive, limbs stiffening as you jumped into action. Bucky was already climbing over you to the passenger seat, your hands shoving the keys into the ignition as the car sprung to life. Outside, the shots kept firing, one after another, until with a deafening noise, the windshield shattered. People were screaming, hands covering their heads, running around to find cover, some on the ground, crying. 

"Go, go, go!" Bucky was shouting, and you threw the car into drive, ramming your foot into the accelerator. The car lurched forward and your eyes moved from building to building as you drove away, trying to scan as much area as possible. 

"I can't see the shooter!" You called to Bucky, who was ducked below the dashboard. 

"Fuck the shooter! Get us out of here!" He screamed back, making you press the accelerator harder. You turned sharply onto another street, driving almost blindly away from the site of the shooting. The sounds of the shots faded and stopped as you both raced away. 

Your nerves were shot, limbs stiff as all hell and hands clutching so tightly at the steering wheel, you didn't think you could let go. The car was silent, wind hitting you hard through the broken, glassless windshield. Bucky's breaths were coming fast and loud. The only sound was the revving of the engine and the swish of the wind, disturbing the miniscule pieces of glass on the bumper of your car. 

It wasn't until a few seconds later, when the adrenaline was partially wearing off, that you felt a searing, all too familiar pain in your thigh, making you curse. 

"He got me." You gritted out, chancing a glance at your leg. It was bleeding, though you couldn't tell exactly how badly. The black colour of your jeans obscured your vision. 

"Fuck," Bucky heaved himself closer to you. "Are you okay? How bad is it?" 

"Not bad." You sighed, feeling the pain get worse. "I'll be fine."

You didn't slow to a stop until you were well out of Manhattan, pulling into a little alley in some residential area you had never been to before. The engine turned off and you shoved your dented door open, stumbling out. The movement jolted your wound, a stream of curses leaving your mouth. You could hear footsteps approaching, before Bucky was in front of you, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you straight so he could get a better look. Had you not been in so much pain, the proximity would have made you choke up. 

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so sorry." 

You shook your head, hearing the rip of clothing and feeling pressure on your thigh. He was tying a piece of his shirt around your leg, trying to stop the bleeding. 

"Not your fault." You gritted out. "But you owe me a stack of pancakes and a new car, doofus."

You heard him breathe out a laugh before looking up at you. "How are you so chill about this? You just got shot."

Because I'm in love with you. 

You only shrugged, watching Bucky tighten the makeshift tourniquet before standing up. His face was too close to you, and you could see minute scratches and red marks where the glass had struck him. 

It happened very suddenly, warm and soft lips meeting your own, making your eyes flutter shut. Your body tensed up, freezing on the spot. Your breath had practically halted, and a moment later, you felt hands cup your cheeks and neck, one warm flesh and the other cold metal. It was the perfect contrast, and it made you snap out of your stupor. You kissed him back, tilting your head until his lips fitted perfectly with your own. His hair tickled your cheeks and forehead, his hands cradled your face softly, his breath mixed with your own. Your heart slowed, a steady beat that brought you only peace.

You were dizzy by the time he pulled away, just a few inches, so the bright blue of his eyes met your own. You tried to form coherent thought. Failed. 

"You still owe me a car." You mumbled stupidly, making him laugh a little and kiss you again, shorter, but just as sweet. 

"C'mon, we have to patch you up." He whispered, providing you enough support to limp to the passenger side, taking the car keys from you. You were still foggy from the kiss, still unable to believe it had even happened. You doubted you needed any patching up. Bucky had fixed you with just one kiss. 

You didn't stop smiling all the way home. 

...................

As always, feedback is appreciated!

[orbitariums]

What, You Didn’t Miss me?

for venusbarnes 5k challenge!! i'm gonna be doing a bunch of these but i just decided i wanted to write something different than what i usually lean towards for this :)

i also wrote a loki imagine called idoru! very angsty but cute :)

#6:  “what, you didn’t miss me? i’m hurt.”

reader is thor's rival/fling thing. you've fought & battled each other hundreds of times, but nothing can compare to the energy you two have. but you've gone a while without seeing him, and he's honestly relieved he doesn't have to put up with it anymore - until he sees you again. *reader's bi cuz she's that bitch, and kind of like valkyrie*

warning: toxic! (but it's really not that deep, considering they do b fighting a lot), fight scene!

also: i would listen to THIS playlist while reading this!!! i was listening while writing, made it so enjoyable.

    You were what they called a "wild child." Graceless, rebellious, brave to the point of stupidity. You were full of rage, a warmonger with no remorse. In your kingdom you were admired for your bravery and physical ability and looked down upon for your "unwomanly" tendencies and your recklessness. You weren't alone in this though - you had a group of women with you who operated as a team, all of them ostracized because of their resistance to submitting. Together, you were unstoppable.

     There was also Thor. He admired you for your brutal honesty, your unabashedly flirty demeanor, and for your fighting abilities. To him, you were like the lady version of him, only not so lady like, and much less cautious, if that was even possible. You were chaotic and wild in combat, and he knew this first-hand. Thor had been at the mercy of your rage many times, and you had seen the force of Mjolnir much too close for comfort. Sometimes you fought for a reason, other times you fought just because you felt like it. For as long as you could remember, Thor had always been your otherworldly enemy... rival was a better word for it.

     But perhaps the best part of your rivalry, besides the satisfaction of beating down the god of Thunder on the times you did win your battles (because, really, you did beat him sometimes, and it felt good), was the flirtatious nature that lay within it. You couldn't doubt that sparks flew when you and the god were together, even when fighting you found yourselves closer to each other than necessary. And outside of a fight, your titillating banter was enough to make heads turn-- tongues soaked with whiskey, hot breath against the other's neck, narrowed eyes matched with rosy lipped smirks that said: "you really wanna do this right now?", sarcastic and degrading humor. It was all a part of the program. Thor rotated women on a weekly basis, as did you with the women and men back on your kingdom, but the relationship he had with you was different.

    No one challenged him like you did, no one was snarky like you were - women joked about Thor submitting to them, but none of them had the power to actually manifest that, other than yourself. He liked that he wasn't exactly intimidated by you, but that you made your worth and your ability rather clear. He knew you weren't "easy" in a fight, and you wouldn't back down. For a while, you steered clear of Thor while you got your own life together. And for that while, it was quiet... too quiet. You were glad to be given a reason to stir things up again. And boy, was Thor in for a surprise.

    You smeared black liner on your waterline (stolen from a Walgreens on Midgard - you liked their makeup more, it was low quality and gave you a cheap, uncouth look that you cherished - not like makeup on your planet, which made you look exactly like what you were... a warrior goddess), and looked in the mirror. Well, what remained of the mirror after you had smashed it. You held a piece of broken glass in your hands and leaned in towards it, your reflection wonky and distorted. You were sitting in your dim-lit, unfurnished (purposefully) bedroom with your friends - the warrior women who you considered your sisters.

    "Thor's in for a lovely surprise today," you sang in monotone, applying more dark pencil liner below your waterline. You quickly rubbed a dark purple lip on and puckered up, raising your eyebrows at yourself in the mirror.

     Mira shook her head playfully and sighed,

    "Honestly, YN, I've known you for years and it still strikes me how crazy you are."

    "Thor's a player, anyway. We know how he is with women... do you really need to fight him?" another one of your sisters, Amina questioned.

     You turned around, huffing defiantly and gripping your sword at your side,

    "Look, it isn't about that. I don't care if Thor wants to bang a fucking dwarf, and with his streak, he probably has. It's about respect. I don't go around flirting with Loki. How dare he invade our honor and try to pick up one of my sisters! It's nothing personal, Lydia, honestly. I think Odinson just forgotten the boundaries."

     Lydia, one of your sisters, the "victim" of Thor's heavy flirting, who had resisted because there was an unspoken but obviously clear rule that Thor was not to ever try to play with one of your sisters, for the purpose of respect. You didn't want him to see your sisters as easy targets or see them as the various women he went through every day of the week. You had all agreed on such a rule, so it wasn't like you were just bossing everyone around. And as for your flirtationship with Thor, that was different. Thor knew better - he knew you could handle him just as well as he could handle you. And for the most part, you were in control.

   Lydia shrugged, continuing her crotchet pattern - she helped make outfits for all of you. You all vowed to be self sufficient. She didn't seem to mind the situation much,

    "Listen. I say go for it. It's been a while. Shake things up again."

You smiled, glad someone understood you,

    "Thank you, Lydia. Right then, I'm off. See you after I ravage him."

| | |

    Back at Asgard, Thor was living his best life. He was breezing through the days, lounging on his throne with multiple women around him daily, feeding on grapes they hung above his lips, getting drunk every night, all while performing his kingly duties. He had let go of the tension you caused him- while he enjoyed his encounters with you, it gave him a lot of unconscious stress to be constantly thinking of when you might next attack. But it had been a while since you last arrived to stress him out, and so he relaxed, and he forgot about you, just a bit.

    But that was before you decided to pop back in again, stomping into the golden room where you saw Thor sitting with one leg up on the throne, women chattering to him and leaning on him, fawning over him. The sight would've made you sick if you weren't already so preoccupied with your rage. You paused in front of the stairway to the throne.

    "ODINSON!!!" you let out a roar that let him know you were here, because he was so distracted by the presence of the women. He almost jumped, and his heart sank when he saw you - weeks of tension returned to his body.

    "Oh shit," he said under his breath, and you smirked, folding your arms and cocking your head at him.

     "What, you didn't miss me? I'm hurt," you gave him a faux pout and then you were back to teasing, your eyes squinted and your lips turned up into a devious smile.

Thor groaned loudly, banging his fists on the arms of his throne. The women surrounding him began to scatter.

    "Why are you here!" he roared.

    "No," you raised your voice at him, "the question is, why are you trying to seduce my sisters? Hm?"

Thor's face went taut and you could see the guilt all over his face. He understood your agreement, and he knew there would be consequences for breaking this agreement. He just didn't think about it until now. You folded his arms, leaning forward,

    "You thought I wouldn't hear about that, did you?"

    "YN, I-" he began stuttering, and nothing coming out of his mouth was making any sense.

     "Yeah, go head and shut the fuck up for me," you cut him off, your tone final - you'd had enough of his bullshit. Thor's lips shut closed immediately. "Gods, you asshole. We had an agreement! Did we not?"

    Thor found this the perfect time to take a dig at you, a knowing smirk playing at his lips as he straightened up in the throne,

    "Sounds awful personal, YN, I mean, it really seems like you took this to heart." You folded your arms annoyedly, already anticipating what he was insinuating. He licked his lips and pulled his lips underneath his teeth. "Jealous much? Are you jealous, YN?"

You didn't answer, just gave him that death stare that told him you weren't here to chit chat right now. He sighed deeply and held his arm out, reaching his hand out into the air,

     "Yup, I got it."

Mjolnir came flashing by and into his hands, and immediately you lunged forth, jumping all the way to the top of the stairs and in front of him on the throne, the two of you clashing. You held your spear out, but Thor blocked it with his hand and knocked it down with his hammer. You scoffed, looking down at your damaged spear on the ground and laughing,

    "That the best you got, king?"

That lit a fire in Thor like no other - not only was it a major turn on for you to call him king, even if it was within an act of defiance, but the mockery was enough to make him black out. He swung his hammer at you and you ducked, bouncing back up just in time to kick him in the face and send him flying backwards, knocking his hammer out of his hand and on the floor away from him.

     "Oh, I do love this!" Loki quipped excitedly as he walked past, and you greeted him joyously - where you and Thor were rivals, you and Loki were twin flames. Thor found your relationship annoying. Every once in a while you'd come to Asgard just to hang out with Loki, scrapbooking and being unusually domestic. He almost wished for a fight when he saw you and Loki hanging out and wreaking havoc.

     "Hey, Loki!" you turned to wave at him, and then got right back to business, pouncing forward like a cat and landing on top of Thor - specifically on top of his lap. You chuckled viciously and held his chin in your hand, lifting it up and wrapping your hand gently around his throat. Neither of you could ignore the erotic nature of your violence. You licked your upper lip like a hungry wolf. "Where's your hammer now, casanova?"

    Thor reached out and Mjolnir was right at his service again.

    "Right here, darling."

A spark of lightning flew out and struck you, sending you flying and laying feet ahead of him on your back, coughing from the impact of the fall. Now Thor stood above you, his height both menacing and alluring, towering over you. Cockily, he blew the tip of his hammer.

    "Anything else?"

    "Yeah," you mumbled, a bit dazed from your fall. "Stop trying to slobber on my sisters!" you kicked your legs up directly at his crotch, and he stumbled back, falling onto the floor in a sitting position, his knees bent towards himself. 

       You grinned victoriously, and picked yourself right up, walking towards him and assuming the same position you had been in before, lowering yourself slowly down onto his lap, one leg on either side of him, the same narrowed, cheeky look in your eyes as before. Thor gazed up at you, in a daze only you could pull out of him, raised eyebrows and glazed over amazement in his eyes and all.      

    "Tap out," you demanded, folding your arms over your chest in such a way that diverted Thor's attention to your body.

    "You know I can't pay attention when you're on top of me like that," Thor sighed, his voice low and husky. You fought a grin off your face, but couldn't hide it completely, your voice steady and methodical,

    "I know."

Thor tapped the ground beside him to insinuate he was done, forfeiting - it happened often that you or Thor tapped out, considering your fights weren't all that serious and were sort of like a game you liked to play. You made a move to get off of him, but he pulled you down by your waist, making you stay.

     "No, stay here," he whined, and you laughed, throwing your head back.

     "You'll stop hitting on my sisters, then?" you inquired, raising a suspicious brow.

     "Not if it means this is what will happen," Thor shrugged. "Really though, you never answered my question." You raised your brow, waiting. "Are you jealous?"

You snorted, though you didn't feel the need to lie,

    "Perhaps a little bit of me wants you all to myself," you batted your lashes at him and ran your hand along his chest. He gripped your waist harder, a determined look settling on his face,

    "I as well."

You shook your head playfully.

     "Oh, Odinson." You leaned forward to place your lips upon his, and he craned his head up so your lips could meet. But you pulled away, just enough so your lips were barely brushing against each others, then gently pushed his chest down, making him lower his head onto the floor again, your lips still hovering above his. You granted him a teasing smile, a knowing look in your eyes as you stared him down. "One day," you said, and vanished, teleporting away from him and back to your own kingdom.

One day!

[amoonagedaydreamer]

Yep yep yep!!!! Loved this!!!!! I highly doubt my breakfast this morning will be as exciting or good.

Pancakes & Guns

Summary: Being in love with Bucky Barnes is hard. Not because of his trauma or his rocky past. But because at any given moment, someone is trying to kill him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,231

Warnings: Violence, swearing.

A/N: Writing this for the lovely @venusbarnes​‘ 5k challenge. And the prompt is in bold!

Main Masterlist

The compound was completely silent, and understandably so. It was a Sunday, which meant that except for emergencies, no one was on call. No mission briefings or training or gym. Everyone was either sleeping in, watching TV, or doing some other idle activity that you didn’t care to know. It was peaceful. You loved it. 

Bucky was lying on his stomach next to you, starfished on the mattress with his limbs tangled with the sheets and blankets. His hair was sprawled on the pillow, covering his face almost entirely. His lips were parted slightly as he snored, cheek squished against the pillow. Occasionally, his eyelids would flutter. 

Maybe it was creepy that you were staring at him like this, but you didn’t care. Very rarely did you see Bucky relaxed and at peace. Most of the time, you either saw that same face twisted into panic, pain, anger or caution. He would either have a bruise blooming on his cheek, dark purple surrounding an eye, or blood pouring from some gash he’d received. Even now, you could see a fading scar just below his jaw, from when his face had been rammed into a wall. You pulled a face just at the thought of it. 

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