i’ve been so quiet on here for like well over half a year </3 lost my spark and confidence in my writing unfortunately!!!! but i have very much found it again thanks to some lovely friends <3 i’ve moved over to @abracadaverdog ! i mainly write for rygos characters nowadays but i promise i still love bucky n the thunderbolts <3
i DO have another part of the cowboy fic as a WIP that i’ll hopefully post on here soon ^_^ sorry for going AWOL
hiii i just wanna say i loveee your writing and your john walker fic is SO GOODDD! ik it's a oneshot but i lowkey need a continuation or something cause that story got me tuneddd innn 😭😭
AAHH! omg that is so so sweet of u, thank u so much!!!!
ur tempting me so bad rn.. it did originally have more but i scrapped it, i might continue it on if i can figure out where to go with it . keep an eye out
Hi this isn’t a request but i just want to say that i LOVE your drunken nights fics they’re so good!! imo they’re very in character and it’s so fun to read! i can’t wait for part 3 if you’re making it :)
hi !!! thank you so so much this is such a sweet message !
i worry about being ooc a lot so i’m really glad it’s coming across as at least somewhat authentic to him!! :D
i am trying to work on a part 3 but life and writers block has got in the way a little! i want to hopefully get it finished soon though!!
You’d told him not to come, that he wasn’t welcome. But he was never one to listen. You should’ve put a bullet in him years ago.
Aka Bucky gets into trouble and seeks out the only safe place he knows- yours.
Warnings: wounds/descriptions of blood, needles, bucky is a stupid asshole and is his own warning, very very minor mention of stalking at the beginning
angst, hurt/comfort, one sided enemies to…still enemies (but not if bucky can help it)
He knew you had a cabin out there, in the middle of nowhere, tucked neatly beside a creek, hidden beneath the crest of a mountain. It was sheltered, safe, everything he was currently searching for. But he also knew you didn't want him there- that you'd told him in no uncertain terms was he to ever be in your presence again.
Unfortunately for you, Bucky had a habit of ignoring rules, of breaking promises- of being a general fucking nuisance. Which is exactly why he'd found himself seeking out your cabin, riding down routes he'd memorised years before the current moment, walking along paths he'd drawn in his book. He'd taken the journey so many times now that he barely needed to check it anymore, the faded pencil lines scrawled in the book pressed to his hip were so deeply embedded in his brain that he could walk it blindfolded. Because despite your agreement that he wouldn't, this wasn't the first time he'd strayed close to your home, it wasn't the first time he'd sought it out in the hopes of laying his eyes on you again.
But this time he needed more than just a glimpse, more than just a glance at you from atop a neighbouring hill, or from where he perched in the woods across the river. He’d thrived off that, watching you- just a momentary look on the life you’d built without him, not knowing he was still there, willing to be apart of it. He just couldn’t stop visiting the second he’d got wind of your new location, the sight of you was far too addicting for that, more than any rush from liquor or gambling or gunfights, hiding in plain sight to observe you was his drug of choice.
But now he needed to see you. Properly.
So he'd hopped off his horse when he was a reasonable distance away, lashing him to a tree under the cover of night, his form barely visible in the moonlight that came scattered through the leaves. He shouldn't be here. And yet he was. He was standing in the middle of the subtly cleared path that lead right to your front door, fingers twitching at his sides.
"Take one more step forward and I will shoot you right between the eyes- and you know I ain't ever miss." It should've scared him, probably- it would've scared anyone else- but the sound of your voice had a grin stretching across his lips, and he turned on his heel to face the direction it came from. "I should fucking kill you, Barnes." There was genuine hate in your tone, the way the words shook in your throat as you all but growled at him.
"But you won't." He held his hands up in surrender, eyes scanning the dark forest, you'd always been good at hiding. "Your rifle is reflecting the moon, it's giving you away." He teased, he'd spotted you across the river, half way up a tree, perched across several branches. You were watching him, gun in hand, the worn metal shining in the little light reaching you.
"Get away from here, you ain't welcome." Your voice was louder now, more confident, rougher. Just how he liked you. It reminded him of the old times, your biting anger under the sun, the way it melted away each night over the fire, your annoyance for him disappearing into nothing as you slept shoulder to shoulder. He wondered if you thought about it all as much as he did- he hoped so at least.
"I come in peace." He watched with a bemused smirk as you slung your rifle over your shoulder and shimmied down the tree with a practiced ease.
"When has that ever been the case?" He almost laughed at the way you hopped across the rocks in the river to get to him, you practically danced across it, agile in a way he never could be. No, he was too rough, too aggressive with his movements, once upon a time you'd loved that about him. He still loved everything about you.
"Come on, let me in, for old times sake." He still had a smirk when you reached him, and he shamelessly let his eyes rake over your form. It was like you hadn't changed a day, still dressed in those worn denim jeans, softened by age, he could feel it under his fingertips without even touching it, ingrained in his mind. He wanted to reach out and grab them, run his hands across your hips like he used to.
"Whatever it is you're looking for, you ain't gonna find it here, I can assure you of that." You crossed your arms over your chest, sizing him up yourself. He didn't look older, per se, but he seemed more unruly than the last time you'd laid eyes on him. His jeans were dark, stained with mud and god only knows what, his shirt fraying at the collar, you wanted to reach out and smooth it all down where it had ridden up during his ride. But you didn't, you wouldn't allow yourself- or him- that action. He didn't deserve it, you had to remind yourself.
"And what exactly do you think I'm looking for?" He was shameless in the way he stared at you, so deep and intense it felt like he was looking right into your soul, trying to absorb your very being. If he could fuse you both you had no doubt he would do so in an instant. He'd always been so all encompassing, swallowing you whole each time you were near him. At one point, you'd adored that about him, sought it out like it was the air you needed to breathe. But now? Now the feeling fell flat, it was suffocating now, and you took a careful step back from him.
"The same thing you always come here for, undoubtably something bad." You responded, hating the way his lips curled up in a grin to chuckle at you. He didn't mean it to be taunting, but the action felt almost threatening coming from him now, threatening to the peace and quiet you'd built away from him, the walls you'd put up around your heart in his absence.
"I came here for you." He was painfully sincere all of a sudden, and for several moments it lay heavy in the air between you, thick with words you'd promised to leave unsaid all those years ago.
"No you ain't. Try again." You practically spat the words out at him, swinging your gun around back into your hands to jab him in the chest with it.
"I ain't joking with you." You squinted your eyes at him, his hands still up in surrender, studying his face in the pale moonlight. At one point in time, you'd been able to read him like an open book, but time had frayed that connection, now rife with distrust.
"When have you ever given me reason to believe you?" You paused, almost regretting the words as you said them, you'd been so sure the last time you'd spoken about your choice for him to leave you and never come back, but now he was there- in front of you, talking to you...You weren't so certain. Was getting years of repressed anger out at him worth the risk that it could truly be it between the pair of you?
"Listen- I know how it seems." He started, reaching out slowly to push the muzzle of the rifle away from him, and he was almost surprised when you let him do so.
"It seems like you ain't just gonna let me live in fuckin' peace." Without another word, you spun on your heel, storming off away from him, trying to ignore the pounding in your ears. What fucking nerve.
Part of you hoped that was that- despite how much the other side silently begged that you'd see him again. And then you didn't have time to internally debate it much, because Bucky had seemingly took that as permission to follow you, and within seconds he was falling into step beside you, trudging down the path towards what had been your sanctuary away from your past life- away from him.
You'd wordlessly held the door open for him once you'd stepped inside, and he had the good sense not to say anything either as he came in, stepping out the way to let you shut it behind him, giving him a moment to look around. It was homely, warm, everything he associated with you. It even smelt like how he remembered you, all whisky, smoke and earth. He wondered what he smelt like to you- you'd probably respond tobacco and shit, and he'd probably deserve it.
So he lingered in the doorway, like he knew he wasn't supposed to be there, like he didn't belong there, and he didn't. He just watched you, the way you moved about, placing your rifle on the table and shucking your thick jacket off, slinging it over the back of a chair. "When was the last time you ate?" He was taken aback by your question, staring as you crossed into a small kitchen and stirred something on a pot on the stove, the smell immediately making his stomach rumble. You'd always been the better cook, foraging what you could, rustling up meals each night over a fire. Most times now he was out alone, he stuck to beans and hardtacks- hardly the flavourful food you made him accustomed to.
"Yesterday." He responded, truthful, and you sighed deeply at him.
"Idiot." You huffed softly, a small chuckle rattling from his throat when you did so, much to your annoyance. "Sit down." You looked back at him, glaring like your life depended on it, but he could see the subtle crinkle of your eyes, the way they softened as the corners of your lips tilted up just a fraction. He had you.
"Yes'sir." He teased, easing up a little as he crossed the room, it was all the more real now, him being there, as he pulled a chair out and sat down. In all honestly, he didn't expect to make it this far without you having lodged a bullet in some part of his body. He should probably thank you for sparing him.
"Shut up." You rolled your eyes, feeling his eyes bore into your back as you dished up some stew into 2 bowls, and subconsciously divided more of the meat into his, like you always had. It had been mere minutes of him stepping inside, being so close to you again, and already you were falling into an old routine that you so desperately wanted to fight back against. "Rabbit. Eat it or starve, I ain't care." You placed it down in front of him before taking your own seat opposite, trying not to admire the way his face glowed a soft orange with the light from the fire beside you, casting beautiful flickers of amber across his skin. You couldn't look at him like that- not anymore. Not after this long of pushing him away.
"You're too kind." It came out like he was teasing, playing with him like he used to, but he knew better than that, saw past his taunting exterior, you knew he was being serious.
"I know." You responded simply, and like nothing had ever changed, you fell into a silence, only the noise of the crackling fire filling the room as you ate. You hated the way your chest warmed at the feeling of not being alone, of breaking out of the solitude you'd put yourself in for so long. Maybe for a few minutes, you could allow yourself to enough it, bask in the atmosphere that was painfully domestic.
You'd dreamed for that, at one point, yearned for a quiet life with him at your side, living in peace, but you didn't let yourself dwell on that now. He didn't deserve your fond memories.
"What are you here for, Bucky?" You'd grown cold as you finished the meal, the warmth of it did little to sooth you as those soft feelings had washed away.
"I told you." He said quietly, and your fingers tightened around the spoon, shaking a little until you dropped it into the empty bowl, shoving it forward against the table.
"I ain't an idiot." He was gentler as he set down his utensil, moving it carefully away from his hands as they balled up in front of him. It was odd, the way you'd switched all of a sudden. Bucky had always been the rough one, angrier, harsher, but the years had seemingly changed things. The time apart had made you grow wild with things unsaid. You didn't quite hate it.
"Alright." He started, fingers drumming on the wood now, and you tried to blink back the feeling of them doing that against your skin, something that had once brought you comfort. Not anymore, no, now it just annoyed you, pissed you off more than ever before. How dare he be so casual about this? So calm and joking about disrupting what you'd built? Everything you'd done to rid of yourself him, to stop seeing him in every single thing around you each day. You'd scrubbed yourself clean of him, and yet here he was, acting like not a day had passed since you'd seen each other. Like the last few years hadn't happened at all. If you had any sense of self preservation, you'd probably lodge a bullet into his chest and end it once and for all, but you knew he'd probably smirk, make some stupid comment as blood dribbled from his lips. "I told you you'd be my end someday." You didn't let yourself think back any further.
"I got into some trouble, I needed somewhere safe." You should be angrier at him, you should scream and shout and punch him for it, but instead you felt an odd wave of relief settled over you. He didn't come for you for any reason other than convenience, because you had somewhere hidden and out of sight, a place for him to hide away until the heat cooled off. This wasn't some ridiculous plot to bring you back, he was just a pathetic, desperate man. You could probably live with that.
"So you decided to bring the trouble here? That's real sweet of ya, Buck." You hissed, and for a moment a wave of hurt washed over his face, but it was gone as quick as it arrived.
"I ain't stupid, no one knows I'm here- No one knows you're here." You rolled your eyes, he just couldn't stop pissing you off. Maybe once that attribute had been almost charming, but not now.
"You ain't supposed to know I was here." You snapped at him, fingers gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white, and you had to tear your eyes away from him before he saw the tears threatening to bead in them.
"I'm sorry, alright? Is that what you want to hear?" You weren't even sure what you wanted, but you were hardly going to tell him that.
"I want you to get out of my house, but we both know that ain't gonna happen. So why don't we just try and get through however long you're gonna haunt me for, then you can leave and I can live in sweet fucking peace." You stood up, slamming your palms on the table, hard enough that the spoons rattled in their bowls, but Bucky didn't flinch, for once he didn't really do anything, just blinked up at you slowly.
"Okay. I can do that." He nodded, and for the first time, any trace of amusement or anger was stripped back from his voice. You tried not to be upset with how disappointed he sounded- you owe him nothing. He deserves nothing from you.
"I'll go get you a blanket, I have a spare cot." You decided not to divulge the fact that you'd bought it for this specific purpose, right when you'd first moved and still had that fondness for him, a hope that he'd visit despite it all. But that had very quickly died off, and now even the sight of item felt sour, long since shoved into the corner of a room, covered in blankets so you didn't have to look at it.
You dragged it towards the fire, waving him off when he offered to help, you'd lived this long without him, you were hardly going to fall back on that within hours of him being there. This was only temporary. It was only for a little while. "Goodnight, Bucky." You didn't stay in the room long enough to listen for his response, disappearing to barricade yourself behind another door, though you wouldn't sleep, just the knowledge of his presence was enough to make you restless. Part of you wondered if he felt the same way.
If he was going to stay with you, he was going to help out, and that’s how you ended up sat back in a patch of grass, watching as he chopped wood. It was almost therapeutic, making him do all the work, relaxing in the sun as he was heaving and panting.
But then you began to notice it, the momentary tensing, the tightening of his jaw, the soft gasps barely carried to your ears by the gentle breeze. Something was up with him, and you began to stare, openly. “You enjoying the view?” You hated the way your lips curved in a smile when he dropped the axe down, crossing his arms over his chest, your previous train of thought completely halted. He’d stripped down to just his undershirt and jeans, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. If it was an earlier time, you would’ve jumped him in a heartbeat, and no matter how painstakingly hot you found him now, you stayed solidly in place. You had a point to prove, he couldn’t just come back into your life like it was nothing and have you all back. He’d have to work for it- No. There was no way in hell, regardless of what he did.
But he did look awfully appealing as you let your eyes flick over his body. “Shut up.” You snapped back, gnawing on the inside of your lower lip, hoping he wouldn’t notice the warmth to your cheeks from a distance, god forbid you give him even a hint that you were softening towards him. He was like a dog with a bone, once he latched on he wasn’t letting go. Leaving him the first time had been a struggle, a fight to get him away…and now, if he got you back, there was no getting out.
“You’re the one starin’” He rubbed the back of his hand against his sweaty brow, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. “Now you gonna let me bathe after this?” He nodded back towards the house, and you wanted to badly to tell him now, he can clean himself in the fucking river like an animal, like they used to. Together.
“If you collect the water yourself.” You tilted your head at him, frowning tight, watching him smirk again. That fucking look that made your stomach coil with a mix of hatred and something more-something you were trying desperately to ignore and push deep deep down.
“You drive a hard bargain.” He laughed, so light and airy and careless that it made you annoyed. Annoyed that he took every hit and snap with a smile, you were driving yourself insane over him and he was as cool as ever, grinning and casual.
Non of this had ever been casual- not to you.
But he continued with that, all stupid and happy, until the smile slipped into a grimace, a flash of pain on his face that you unfortunately recognised all too well, and a second later it was gone. He’d always been good at that, masking pain, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut to breathe through his nose before moving on like nothing had happened. But you noticed, you always did.
“You keep wincing.” You commented, barely able to contain your thoughts any longer, catching the moment your words hit and his body tensed.
“No I ain’t.” He was bitter for a brief moment, snapping, reaching down to grab at the axe, fingers flexing around the handle, knuckles white as he forced a grin back on his lips.
“And I ain’t stupid neither, Buck. What did you do?” Against your better judgement, you pushed yourself off the floor, though you made no effort to move towards him, just squinting and gesturing at his body.
“Why you always gotta presume I’ve done something, eh?” There it was again, another blink and you miss it change, his jaw clenching, tight enough you could see the twitch in the muscles as it did so, and if you focused hard enough you’d hear the sharp intake of breath that came with it.
“Cause you always have, Buck! Why do you think I ended up here? Out of my own choice? Fuck- I came out here to escape what you caused!” The words came out before you could stop them, and you watched him recoil, taking a step back. You could count on one hand the amount of times you’d yelled at him like this- and one of those times was the night he arrived on your doorstep like a lost dog just a few days before. And then there was silence, a deep, soul destroying silence as your words echoed around the trees, neither of you moved for several moments, he was watching you like he was waiting for your next move, like he used to observe wild animals.
“I-“ Whatever he was about to say died on his tongue because you were moving, surging forward before you had any sense to stop yourself, and with a dizzying rage mere seconds later you were slamming into him, palms flat against his chest, shoving him backwards. “Hey!” His voice came out as a ragged snarl, and in response he pushed his into your shoulders, though he was softer, hesitant, fingers almost curling into your sleeves as he did so, like he wanted to pull you close rather than force you off.
“Fuckin’-“ You managed to find purchase with your fist right in the centre of his chest, earning a rough growl that rattled in his throat.
“Stop it!” You’d just landed a punch to his torso again as he grappled with your other hand, when everything seemed to shift. His angered grunts replaced with a yelp, his body folding forwards whilst his legs stumbled backwards, arms wrapping around his middle.
Every instinct you’d had to fight him disappeared, and instead you reached out to snatch at his shirt, attempting to keep him upright as he swayed, woozy and gasping.
“Buck-“ The tight coil of anger that had settled in your chest snapped in an instant, and your only goal became finding out and fixing whatever was wrong. “Come-Come on.” You pulled him towards you, walking him backwards, feeling his trembling hands come to grab at your shirt before you pushed him down onto the log he’d been using as a bench to chop wood on.
“Hey-You care about me.” His voice was barely there, but he huffed out a laugh non the less, making you peel away from him to glare right into his eyes.
“Shut up- I just ain’t want your dead body to attract wolves.” You hissed, how could he not realise this was serious? Something was wrong with him and he didn’t even care, he’d rather sit and push your buttons like normal.
“What happened?” Your eyes scanned over him, and that’s when you saw it, a patch of crimson soaking through his once-white undershirt, blooming where his fingers tried to close against it. “Bucky-“ You knelt down, not caring as your knees got muddy, squishing down in the dirt by the creek, because he was bleeding now, and not just a little bit, it was spreading through his side.
“It’s nothin’.” He pressed his hand down a little tighter, using his free one to push back at your shoulders. “I’m fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hissing like you were a fucking idiot- like he deserved it. A few days earlier, you would’ve agreed that he did.
“Let me see.” You snarled back, vicious, but equally as fearful as you knew he was, his jaw trembling as he tried to remain composed. He’d always done that, tried to hide, waited until he thought you couldn’t hear him to whine and cry in pain, bandaging himself out of sight, forcing a grin whenever you did so much as breathe in his direction. But sometimes he got messy, angry, shoved you away like he was afraid your touch would hurt him further, and this time it had, you’d pushed him until he bled. You wanted to claw your own skin off in a panic, and you knew he wouldn’t blame you, he never did, but it didn’t stop the sickness in your throat nonetheless.
“Let’s get you inside- please- I’ll clean you up and patch up whatever’s wrong.” You were frantic, clinging all of a sudden, fingers grasping at whatever part of him you could without hurting him more. You found purchase in the collar of his shirt, hoping if you squeezed the fabric just enough he’d realise how scared you actually were, how the desperation was hot in your veins, how much you actually meant it.
He didn’t think he deserved it, he didn’t deserve your help or your care, the tender touch as you mended him the way you always had. But you didn’t care now, not in this moment. You could be angry again all you wanted with him the second he wasn’t seeping blood into his own hand, oozing like it was. It made you ill, sick with worry that splashed up behind your teeth when he blinked up at you.
“Bucky fuck-please!” You tried to yank him up, and after a few attempts to pull him to his feet, he gave you a small mercy and stood for himself, stammering for a moment as he tried- and failed- to straighten up. “It’s okay- it’s okay- it’s not that far.” You soothed, arm around his shoulder, hard and grounding against his back, the other grasping at his free one, gripping like if you’d let him go he’d just slip away. You didn’t know if the hold was for you, or him, but you kept it tight regardless.
It was a struggle, but by the good graces of whatever god was watching down on you both, you made it back inside your cabin without as much as a few stumbles. “I’m fine- I am-“ He tried to reason as you ushered him frantically to the dining table, pushing him to sit down on it before you rushed around to grab your tools. You weren’t a stranger to blood-gushing wounds, and it wouldn’t be the first time-or probably even the hundredth- that you’d played nurse for him now.
So you knew what to do, quick to lurch into action and gather exactly what you’d need, the gasps and whines of the man slouched on the table filling the air and making your gut twist impossibly. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen- this was never part of the plan.
“Shirt off-“ You hissed at him, and when he did nothing but shoot a stupid smirk in your direction, you slammed everything down beside him and took matters into your own hands. “Fuckin-“
“At least take me out first-“ You were going to be careful, gentle, but even in your moment of worry his ability to piss you off didn’t falter, so you yanked it up his torso without another thought, hearing it peel off his bloodied skin in a way that you almost found satisfying. “Shit- ain’t you supposed to stop me from hurting?” He huffed, like a petulant fucking child, furthering your now annoyance ridden desperation.
“Ain’t you supposed to be crying in pain and not running your fuckin’ mouth?” You didn’t dare glance up to see the grin that would’ve undoubtably settled on his lips as he laughed, though you were forced to eat your words when it melted into a cry. “Fuck- Bucky.” You were staring at the source of it all now, a hole bore into his abdomen, at least an inch or so deep. Remains of crudely done stitching burst at the sides, no doubt the reason for all of the blood suddenly. “Did someone shoot you?” It wouldn’t be the first time, and you’d put good money on it not even being the last, but it still surprised you regardless.
“Ain’t I tell you I got in’ta some trouble?” His words were thick and almost slurred now, and one hand came up to grab at your face, tilting it up to meet his eyes, all round and wet and destroyed.
“I-I thought you meant fuckin’ debt, Buck, this is serious.” You heard your voice waver, your lip quivering as your hands shook a little where they pressed to his torso, sticky and terrified. This wouldn’t have scared you before, got you so worked up and freaked out, but you were out of practice, no longer used to seeing him so covered in blood like this. And you didn’t know when you started to cry until your vision blurred and he was cooing something you couldn’t hear past the blood rushing in your ears, hand all gentle as the pad of his thumb swiped across your cheeks.
“I-I need to-“ Every word died in your throat as you reached for a rag, dipping it into a pot of water you’d kept warming over the fire. You’d planned to make yourself a tea with the nettles you’d collected earlier, an olive branch you weren’t even sure you were going to extend at the time. But now it was gone, tainted with the crimson that seeped into the bowl before you began to swipe it over his tender skin, trying to block out the sounds of his pain, refusing to look as his other hand white knuckled the table. You barely heard yourself whisper to him to breathe, and you knew you should take your own advice as you sucked in shuddering breaths, trying to force your fingers to be still.
“You’re sweet on me.” He was practically giggling, leaning forward so his head rested on your shoulder as you worked, the bullet since removed with a knife the way you’d done it ten times before, you worked on stitching him up now.
“If I had any sense I would’ve left you outside.” You sighed, breath still shaky as you felt him smirk against the skin of your neck, all stupid and woozy.
“I’m lucky you’re an idiot then.” He laughed like it was the funniest joke in the world, and maybe if you didn’t have his blood splashed up your front and smeared almost to your elbows you would’ve laughed with him- probably before punching him in the nose for calling you an idiot. But he was still leaking blood, so instead you settled for a deep inhale and exhale, trying to resist just jabbing the needle into his skin and leaving it there.
“You still care for me- don’t lie.” You’d stitched him back up the best you could, as much as you could manage in between tremors, anyway. You’d laid him flat on his back across the table, hoping that if you did so he wouldn’t just keel over and knock himself out, and you slumped back in the chair beside him, hands still bloody. It would take hours to work all the dried gore from under your nails, and the wood of the table would never be clean again. But he was alive, and apparently still as annoying as ever, breaking the tension in a way you weren’t even sure you were thankful for. You still wanted to punch him in the face.
sneak peak of a wip i’ve been working on because if you cannot tell. i love cowboys <3 feedback very welcome !
“Take one more step forward and I will shoot you right between the eyes- and you know I ain’t ever miss.” It should’ve scared him, probably- it would’ve scared anyone else- but the sound of your voice had a grin stretching across his lips, and he turned on his heel to face the direction it came from. “I should fucking kill you, Barnes.” There was genuine hate in your tone, the way the words shook in your throat as you all but growled at him.
“But you won’t.” He held his hands up in surrender, eyes scanning the dark forest, you’d always been good at hiding- but not good enough. “Your rifle is reflecting the moon, it’s giving you away.” He teased, he’d spotted you the other side of the river, half way up a tree, perched across several branches. You were watching him, gun in hand, the worn metal shining in the little light reaching you.
“Get away from here, you ain’t welcome.” Your voice was louder now, more confident, rougher. Just how he liked you. It reminded him of the old times, your biting anger under the sun, then the way it melted away each night over the fire, your annoyance for him disappearing into nothing as you slept shoulder to shoulder. He wondered if you thought about it all as much as he did- he hoped so at least.
“I come in peace.” He watched with a bemused smirk as you slung your rifle over your shoulder and shimmied down the tree with a practiced ease.
thunderbolts! bucky & reader, ongoing series. dilf is a state of mind
i know i can’t be free (oneshot)
cowboy angst, hurt/comfort and enemies to still enemies (but not if bucky can help it)
john walker:
rescue mission (oneshot) 18+
you call yelena for rescue from your shitty ex at a club, and when she doesn’t respond, the last person you’d ever expect turns up. and it turns out walker can be nice if he wants to be.
FALLOUT
cooper howard/the ghoul:
outlaws in LA - 18+ (ongoing):
part 1, part 2
An irradiated cowboy gun-for-hire picks up a not-quite-defrosted vault dweller in an attempt to bait the people he'd been hunting for centuries. Mixed results ensue.
You and John had never gotten along, he seemed to have it out for you since the day you joined the team. But when Yelena doesn’t pick up your call to rescue you when you see your ex at a bar, he takes it upon himself to fetch you, whether you want him to or not. Maybe you can set aside your hostility for just a few hours, maybe he’s more help than you would’ve thought.
Assassin! Thunderbolts! Reader
Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Alcohol consumption, talk of past abuse, very brief mention of past experimentation (reader), ex is a cunt, talk of manipulation/control, implied prior sexual abuse, canon typical violence, gets a little suggestive at one point.
You had very clearly messed up, hiding in a cubicle of the nasty club toilets that you’d found yourself in. Not your best, or even first choice, you had to say.
You held your phone to your ear with a desperation, listening to each chime of the ring, until the line flicked dead for a moment and the godawful voicemail sounded. "Lena-Lena pick up the fucking phone! My ex is here -you know the one- can you pick me up? I'm too far away for a cab. I'll pay you- swear to God. Or ask Alexei- I realised I didn't have his number when I rang. Thanks, call me back, I love ya." You’d sighed in defeat once you’d rambled out your request, ending the call with a small grumble. "Fuck sake." You hissed, shoving your phone away in your back pocket before pushing the stall door open, wandering over to the sink.
You ran a hand through your hair, trying to at least look like you hadn't lost your mind in the bathroom, you didn't want him to know how much seeing him had affected you. You just needed to get back out there, have a drink and pretend like nothing had happened.
And so you went back out, downed a few more shots at the bar and hoped to every god out there that could be listening, that your friend would arrive like the cavalry to save you. Come on Yelena.
"Oh fuck off." You hissed, snarling at him stupidly, glaring at the man who was resting back against the wall.
"Aw don't be like that." He beamed back, but it wasn't happy, it was taunting, slimy, and your stomach turned at the sight. “Come onnnnn.” He reached out, trailing a hand down your arm, making your skin raise with goosebumps, a shiver rolling down your spine as you yanked your arm away.
"Stop it-" The other man just grinned, trying to grab at you again. "Fuck off!" You lunged forward, shoving at him, but your heart wasn't in it, you’d never been able to fight back with him, the part of your heart that still thought fondly of a past version of him wouldn’t let you. You fucking hated it.
"That's real cute, but we both know you're nothing more than something to play with." He moved forward, forcing you to step back until you hit the wall.
"Go away." He felt powerless- a fucking trained assassin, rendered speechless against someone you had every right to kill. You wanted to scream at him, punch and claw like a wild animal, but any word got stuck in your throat as your hands shook at your sides. What a state you’d been reduced to.
"What? What Sweetheart? Afraid I'll tell everyone what you're like? What if I shared those photos we took? I think people would love them." You felt like you were going to pass out and vomit all at once, stomach stirring, pain clawing up your tight chest as you tried to stay under control. You couldn’t cause a scene, no matter how much you wanted to. Your reputation was already shaky, and if Val found out you’d started a bar fight you’d never hear the end of it.
"Don't you fucking dare- or -I'll-I'll-" Your voice died out on your tongue, jabbing a finger towards the man standing only a few inches away from you now.
"I know you won't actually hurt me." He laughed, smirking wide and proud, pressing a hand to your chest, taunting, possessive.
"He won't, but I will." He appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and in a flash your ex was being yanked to the side by his collar, knocking him back with enough force he hit a table and crumbled to the floor. The patrons of the club fell silent, just loud techno pumping into their ears, everyone turning to watch the scene.
"Walker?" You blinked up at him, dressed just in cargo trousers and a tight back t-shirt, his chest visibly heaving, nostrils flared and jaw clenched as he stared at the other man- who was slowly trying to pull himself up.
"Don't you ever fucking touch him again- Don't even fucking look at him!" You were taken aback by his shout, booming over the club music, loud enough it almost hurt your ears. Walker had never been one to defend you, barely even doing so during missions. In fact, Walker was normally the one fighting with you.
But now your ex was scrambling, panicked and tearing up, nodding frantically- you’d find it funny if you weren’t so shaken. "Stop fucking snivelling." John stepped over, squeezing fingers into his shoulders, yanking him into the air so violently his feet lifted off the floor before he dropped back down. But John didn't stop there, hand grabbing at his jaw, forcing his head to angle at you. "Apologise." Your ex stuttered, blabbering excuses, only earning a warning squeeze in response. The last thing anyone could ever want was a super soldier crushing all the bones and teeth in their jaw.
"I'm sorry." The music had lowered now, enough that you could just about hear him as he spoke.
"Mean it." John gritted his teeth, pressing a fraction tighter, earning a pained whine from the other man.
"I'm s-sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I'm sorry for hurting y-you!" He managed to gasp out, and John seemingly gave it another moment of thought before letting go, but not without another shove backwards, letting his back hit the table.
"Thank you. Now get the fuck out." John snarled, watching him scramble as fast as his legs could take him, and only when he was out the door did John turn back to you.
"Hey, what're you drinking?" He asked, casual as ever, though you could see the tenseness in his jaw, the way the muscles flexed as he scanned the room. He’d never been great at hiding his emotions, especially in situations like this. Anger always kept his body tight, teeth grinding gently as he tried to calm down.
"Oh uh-" You looked down at your empty glass, tension easing a little when the music started back up, enough that you had to shout again. "Sex on the beach." This earned a rare laugh from John, who nodded, clapping a hand on your shoulder.
"I'll get you another." And without another word he stalked over to the bar, and you watched him leave, acutely aware all eyes in the room were on you.
You passed fairly quietly in public normally, your mask obscured most of your face on missions, enough that most people wouldn't recognise you. But John's arrival had people staring at you- it wasn’t hard to put 2 and 2 together, it was well known the soldier didn’t have many friends anymore- and they were watching you like you were from another world.
"Here-" It felt like mere seconds until a glass was pushed into your hand.
"Thanks, Walker." You said, genuine, appreciative. You two had never been friends, actually, it was quite far from that, the atmosphere between you had always been hostile at best. But now? Now you weren’t so sure, John had an arm pressed firmly to your back, and if you didn't know better you’d think it was comforting. But John wasn't comforting- not to you. John was a self righteous arsehole who snapped at you constantly and acted like your mere presence was some sort of attack on his life.
"He won't release anything." You were both resting back against the wall you’d previously been backed into, though John's arm stayed heavy behind you. He could be that protective Captain- sometimes at least. "I made sure of it." He practically hummed into your ear, leaning down, crowding over you at his side.
"How?" You glanced over to him, eyebrow raised, watching as John smiled again, genuine.
"I stole his phone." He reached into his pocket and held up a phone, fingers flexing around it for a brief moment before clamping down, the force enough to shatter the screen, sending tiny shards of glass everywhere. "There." For good measure, he pressed it between both hands, forcing it to bend and snap, practically folding it in half before dropping it to the floor.
"You done?" He asked a few minutes later, nodding down at the once again empty glass in your hand, earning a nod. "Let's go then, if you're ready?" He asked, though it was less like a question and more a command, but you nodded regardless, setting the glass down on the table beside you. "Come on." It was almost possessive, the way an arm clung to your back, urging you forward, and you could feel his body firm behind you, attempting to block you from view, but you could still see and feel the stares from patrons that quickly looked away as you both passed.
You expected John to drive off as soon as you climbed into the car, but instead he gripped the wheel with an intensity normally reserved for missions, so tight you could practically imagine he was mid-fight. Knuckles turning white, jaw equally tense. "John?" It wasn't often you called him by his first name, but after several minutes of the heavy atmosphere in the car, you felt like you needed to break the ice.
"It's in your file." The response had your heart thudding in your chest, all the air sucked out of your lungs.
"What?" You hated the way you gasped, shuffling in your seat to face him, eyes wide. You’d always struggled to quell your emotions, it was a feature that Valentina despised in you sometimes, but you figured this time it would be understandable.
"How he treated you. It's in your file." John refused to even look towards you, just glaring out the windshield into the parking lot, fingers flexing as they wrapped even tighter around the wheel, it looked like it might snap if he continued.
"You read my file?" Part of you wanted to be upset, to be angry, yell at the sheer invasion of your privacy, but you knew John wouldn't care, he saw himself as the leader, he probably saw it as his right.
"I should've killed him." You weren’t entirely sure if you were supposed to hear that, John's voice was so harsh yet so quiet and hushed, you could just barely make it out it over the blood rushing in your ears. "We're going home."
The drive back had an intensity you should be used to, all things considered, but the pretence of it all was anything other than your usual. John hadn't even done so much as glance in your direction, eyes fixed forward like he was on his own personal mission. “Thanks." You spoke, soft, -uncharacteristic compared to every other word you’d say to John on a typical day,- as soon as you pulled into the parking lot beneath the tower.
"Yeah." John responded, stiff, hands still violent at the wheel. You wondered if John ever relaxed, or if this was his normal state, had you ever seen him relaxed? Thinking about it, this had been the most amount of time you’d spent together outside of missions.
"Hey." You’d had been half out of the car door when a hand wrapped around your wrist, it was almost commanding, stopping you dead in your tracks. "Don't tell anyone about this." You nodded, not that you had a choice in it, John was deadly serious, and as much as you almost trusted him as a teammate, you didn't want to dance with an enraged super soldier. If there was one type of man you didn't cross, it was a serum fuelled US agent.
"I won't." He seemed happy with that answer, finally looking over to nod at you, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Goodnight, Walker." He just huffed in response, and you took that as your queue to leave. You needed to go lie down.
You had to admit, just to yourself, that the situation from the bar had thrown you more than you expected. The words rattled around in your brain every minute of the day, each time you closed your eyes you saw his smirk, you felt the hands on your chest, you felt his presence. You were trapped, trapped by a figment of your own brain intent on torturing you for hours and hours a day.
Luckily, with no missions in sight, you were okay to keep to yourself, spending most of your time in your room, pacing the floor, sleeping through alarms. You felt like you were back there- in that house. You were stuck.
So you hid- and no one had noticed your change, they weren't around you enough to see the darkening rings around your eyes, the way your hands shook, the utter state of you. You’d avoided mirrors, so god only knows how ruined you actually looked. You didn’t want to find out, and you didn’t want anyone else to either.
But then it happened, knuckles rapping against your door, and you barely registered it at first, sleep was tugging at your eyes and brain so violently- and almost constantly- that you couldn't tell what was real and what was a sleep addled dream. "Hey! Open the door!" Your brain couldn't make that up, a voice booming so loud, paired with a knock so heavy on the door that the photo frame on the wall smacked against it, threatening to fall off. "Open the door!"
And with some regret and hesitation, you peeled out of the bed, slinking spineless to the door, clicking the lock and wrenching it open, mildly surprised at the sight on the other side. "I'm coming in." He didn't leave room for argument or protest, simply pushing past you. You didn't think you could shove him back it even if you tried, so you shut the door behind him, listening to it knock closed in the frame.
"Sit." John pushed against you, making you stumble until your knees hit the bed and you fell onto the mattress. You hated when John did that, shoved you around like you weighed nothing. He was always doing it on missions, pushing you out of the way, yanking you this way and that. Part of you should be angry, be pissed off that he was so overbearing and controlling, acting like he was better than you, like he knew better. But you couldn't, not now- any anger you’d held hot in your chest for John over the year you’d known each other had died a fiery death. All those fights and arguments and missions had fizzled into nothing. You just didn't have it in you anymore. You didn't have anything in you.
"Talk to me." He stood, towering over you with his arms crossed, brows pulled tight into a frown, watching you like he was trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. You’d bet this was the most you’d ever actually looked at each other.
"About what?" And John scoffed, scoffed like the arrogant asshole he was, glaring at you like you were the one who'd done something wrong.
"Fucking hell, you know what-“ He was getting agitated already, the way his voice rose made your heart thump again, so hard you could feel it in your throat. Then he looked away, sucking in a breath so deep you could see his chest heaving, jaw clenching down. "I'm sorry." It may have been the first time John had said those words, based on the way he looked visibly uncomfortable the second they left his lips. That fact wouldn’t surprise you at all.
A few minutes passed - though it may have just been moments- until John moved, crouching down on one knee in front of you, though you were almost still eye to eye. "I lied. Part of your file was redacted- the part about him." He sighed, still refusing to meet your eyes. "But I know that's why you're acting like this- that's why you've shut us all away since that night." He stated like it was a fact, and his insistence he knew best would've irritated you, if it wasn't for the fact he was right. "So, as your Captain, I'm here for you to talk to." You bit back the urge to tell him that actually, Bucky was the leader of their team, but you presumed that wouldn't go brilliantly, John didn't seem in the mood for your usual back and forth. And in all honesty? Neither did you.
"It’s okay." His voice was soft, gentle almost, tender if you dared, and a hand pressed to your knee, thumb rubbing just briefly against the bare skin where your shorts had ridden up. "We helped Bob out, we-" He cut himself off, sighing for a moment. "-I- can help you." And he actually meant it, for once in his life, John was being nice, he was caring, he was being the sturdy hand and kind tone you needed. "You just need to tell me what's going on." He gripped just that little bit tighter, fingers pressing into the flesh of your lower thigh, running along your knee.
"How much do you know?" You settled on asking, avoiding his now probing eyes, instead choosing to stare off into the corner of your bedroom, trying to ignore the calloused pads of his fingers tracing along your tender skin.
"Not a lot. Just that it was bad enough it took up several pages in your intake evaluation." You nodded, that much you expected, but you were surprised John hadn't sought out the un-censored copies yet. Part of you was almost flattered by the gesture. What a low bar.
"It was bad, Walker." You started, though you was quickly stuck on where to even go from there. "I-I was fresh out of- well, you know-" You stumbled a little over the mention of how you came to be who you were- the years that shaped your future, that ruined you. Escaping the lab you’d been trained in had given you freedom- but some nights you thought dying there would’ve been a kinder mercy to yourself.
John nodded, urging you on, eyes so intense and focused, listening intently, still soothing his fingers around the joint. "I needed somewhere safe a-and he was someone I'd known before- mutual friends." You paused again, the words felt so heavy on your tongue, like a ball of molten lead, weighing down in your throat. "I'd always-" You swallowed thickly, you weren’t sure how much of your personal relationship you wanted to divulge- especially to John.
"I won't judge. I'm just here to listen. No joking for once- I'm serious." You doubted that somehow, but you allowed yourself to glance down at him, seeing how genuine he looked for once, swirling blue eyes so intense.
"God-" You sucked in a breath. "I'd always been drawn to- and this sounds stupid, you know, considering- but I was-I'm always drawn to people who- I don't know- take the lead in a relationship." You ran a hand through your hair, trying to soothe yourself. Talking about your emotions had never exactly been something you were great at, least of all with him.
"It's okay." The way John hummed the words out was so painfully unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, and for once you actually felt comfortable in his presence.
"It was made worse by the conditioning- what they did in that lab- I was made to listen, to be obedient, but I'd always been that way in relationships." He nodded, urging you on, hand moving just a fraction higher, the other sliding down to the calf of your other leg, dropping to sit fully on the floor now, staring up at you. "He took advantage of that. I needed someone to look after me- I needed guidance, but he used that to manipulate me." You practically spat the words out, fingers trembling where you held them tight together in your lap.
"It was consensual at first. But then it stopped being like that, it started being what he wanted- when he wanted." You fiddled with your fingernails, trying to focus on the feeling of hands dancing against your skin, rubbing circles over aging bruises and scars. "I wasn't allowed out of the house at all, and all of a sudden I had to wear what he wanted, do what he wanted." You could feel your jaw trembling, words getting muddy and mumbled in your mouth, making you suck in deep breaths, desperate. “He used the fact I was in hiding against me.”
"It's okay." John reached out with the hand that had been smoothing over your calf, now taking a hand in yours, soothing across your knuckles.
You felt stupid, weak, not at all the soldier you were, when tears began to spill past your eyes, rolling heavy down your cheeks and dripping onto your entwined hands.
"The sight of him brought all of it-it back." You said, finally, squeezing your eyes shut. "Every time I close his eyes I feel his hands on me, everywhere he shouldn't be. And-And I know I'm not supposed to let this stuff get to me- I'm a fucking Avenger for christ-sake. I've been tortured and experimented on but- fuck- It just- It just gets to me. It's like he's under my skin, owning me all over again." You didn't notice the movement with closed eyes, until John's fingers were wiping away the tears off your cheeks, smearing them with the pad of his thumb.
"You can let shit get to you." John finally spoke, sliding a hand to your cheek, cupping it softly, trying to urge you to open his eyes. "They want you like that- but you don't have to be." It was so out of character, all soft and soothing- everything John wasn't, but you found yourself easing into it, leaning into his touch like it was grounding. "Come here." There were hands at your hips, pulling you forward gently, urging you to slip off the side of the bed. And you let yourself be tugged, sliding to the floor in front of him. "C'mon, it's okay." He hummed, opening his arms out, though he made no further movement to hold you. He was letting you chose if you wanted to, he was letting you set the pace, and you wanted to cry over it. Your entire world had just been take and take and take, but now it was your turn, it was your turn to decide what you took.
And you made the choice to crawl into John's arms.
"There you are." He cooed, rubbing soothing circles into your back as you collapsed into him, sinking into his hold. "It's okay." His beard scratched against your cheeks, but you didn't have it in you to care, it made you feel grounded, made you feel there- feel alive. "I've got you." Your body was shaking, and you felt weaker and weaker each second he was leaning over, and John seemed to notice, angling back just a fraction to meet your eyes. "You want to..." He trailed off, and he didn't need to finish his sentence before you were nodding.
So his arms moved down, slipping under your thighs where he knelt, heaving you into the air like you weighed nothing at all, gently setting you down in his lap, your legs winding around his stomach almost immediately. You were taken over by the need to be surrounded with him.
If you felt comfort in that strong presence, he was gonna give it to you, enveloping your entire body, blanketing his torso over you, wrapping arms so tight you thought you might fuse together. And he felt the effect, felt the change in you, the tension leaving your shoulders, melting into nothing as John held you together. "I've got you." He whispered again, feeling you tuck your face under his chin, pressing it against his neck, trying to get as close to him as possible.
"John." You choked out, and the use of his first name almost had him stalling, fingers twitching against your waist, but he didn't want to let it show, let you in on the fact this had rattled him too. You had been through hell in every sense of the word, and he wanted to be that safe space you needed.
He had no idea when he'd started to want that.
It's a little under an hour later when you finally peel apart, you had fallen asleep from the sheer emotion and energy of it all, relaxed easy in his lap, John content to hold you through it all. "Walker." You were almost fearful, John could hear it in the waver in your tone, and he hummed in response, urging you to continue. "Can you-Can this stay between us?" You were still perched in his lap, John's large hands flexing across your toned back, holding you up as he stared down, too on edge to make eye contact.
"Of course- Of course it can."
It felt obvious, that this was something just for you both, but then again.. when had you been given any reason to trust him? Your relationship so far was rocky at best, and downright hostile and hateful at worst, and John had to take the blame for most of it. He was hot headed, snappy and arrogant, a miserable angry fuck through and through. But you just couldn't help fighting back, spitting insults in response to his own, bickering like your life depended on it. That was your dynamic, ever since you started doing missions together. You fought. Constantly. Unwavering. Even back at the tower you avoided each other like the plague, any interaction stayed hostile. For some reason John had never noticed, he'd written it off like it was stupid battlefield banter, bleeding a little into your everyday, drawn from fear and agitation out in the field. He’d been so blind that maybe- to you- it had been more than that. He'd been cruel.
"Do you want to lie down?" John asked carefully, nodding to the bed, seeing your face change for just a moment- you looked disappointed. "I can stay," He paused, watching for your expression to flick, seeing just the shadow of relief seep into your features. "If you want me to." He added, just to reaffirm that this was all on your terms, that your decision was final. It was almost sweet, even if it was the bare minimum- but you’d never had that before.
"Would-Yeah- Would you be okay with that?" You looked as if you were ready for John to laugh, to insult you, to snap back that he was only joking, but nothing came, just an affirming nod.
"I offered." He settled on saying, a slight laugh to his voice, hoping to ease the heavy feeling on your chest just a little, and he managed to draw a smile into your face.
"I just wanted to double check. Prick." You muttered, and John just snorted, shuffling arms underneath your legs, grabbing your thighs.
It was times like this when he loved his body, loved the serum in his veins, because he could lift you into the air like you were weightless- hell- he could do it with just the one arm, hauling you up. "There we go." He dropped you down a little awkwardly onto the mattress, and it was almost painfully familiar to every situation he'd rather not think about right now. Your cheeks were flushed from emotion, eyes still glossy with tears, propped back on your hands from bracing yourself when you’d landed on the bed, legs spread just enough.
Fuck. Since when did he like men?
He bristled, but tried not to let it show. First of all, you were hurting, you needed comfort and support, especially given what you’d told him. And second of all, not once had he ever looked at a man and felt that familiar pooling in his stomach. He'd never laid eyes on a them in the same way he would a woman, he'd never experienced the shiver up his spine with another man. Until now.
"You okay?" Your voice was so soft, it almost eased all his nerves instantly- almost.
Your brows were furrowed when John looked back up to your face, realising he'd been fixated on your legs for way too long for it to be normal, and he hoped you hadn't noticed. You had.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Now, shift over." He huffed, rolling his eyes, watching you offer the tinniest laugh, and it was like music to his ears. It was so rare for him to hear it directed at him in such a genuine way, that he felt his cheeks flush a little.
He sucked in a quiet breath before moving to lay down at your side and just pausing, unsure of how to continue. "Where do you want me?" His voice came out a little rough all of a sudden, and he tried to pretend like he didn't hear the sharp intake from you, or the way your leg tensed where you were touching.
"Do you-" You shuffled over, just enough to rest your head against his bicep. "Is this-" John looped the arm you were laying on around your head, letting his hand come to rest brushing through your hair.
"This okay?" He could feel the blush crawling up your cheeks as the muscle under your face flexed, and John felt an awful sense of pride at the action.
Listen. He'd seen those memes about the favourite pillow being some buff guys arm- and he was happy to oblige and make that come true.
"Y-Yeah." Your voice was somewhat breathless, all whispered and meek, and John couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips where you couldn't see.
"Good, good." He hummed, voice rattling in his chest, threading fingers in your hair. It was torturous, and John felt a little guilty at the way he was feeling, the way he wanted to make you react all of a sudden. He had to stop. Not now, not after that conversation. You were vulnerable, you’d just told him how easy he'd been manipulated by the same kind of guy John was. But there was a difference- he knew when to stop. He knew when to draw back and set a boundary to protect you. It wasn't that you were naive, you were far from it, but conditioning like that took time to get over, especially when it had been apparently such a big part of your relationships before. So John would take that lead for you for now.
You’re a shapeshifter, a little rough around the edges- stupid, as John would put it. Probably not the best addition to the team.
And Bucky’s everything you’re not. Controlled, careful, reserved, almost polished as he grows into his new role.
And oh great- the team has footage from your stupid drunken stumble the night before. I’m sure nothing will come from it…
part 1
"Jesus christ, someone had a long night." Walker laughed the second you wandered into the kitchen, groggy and tired, hair sticking every which way. It certainly wasn't your best look, and immediate regret washed over you when you glanced up to see almost the whole team staring at you with amused grins.
"Fuck off, Walker." You hummed, sticking your middle finger up vaguely in his direction, only one thing on your mind again. A cold glass of water.
"Oh he's alive!" You didn't bother looking over to Ava, she was hunched over a bowl of cereal at the island, and instead busied yourself with quelling the burning in your throat.
"You know we have security cameras on the door. We saw you come in." Yelena teased. "I saw you faceplant the wall." She tacked on, and you sucked in a breath. Though that did explain why your forehead felt awfully tender this morning.
"Please just shut up until my head stops thumping, then we can put the footage on the projector and laugh about it together." You turned around, leaning back against the counter, a deep sigh rattling in your chest. "God- My head hurts." You grumbled, sliding one hand into your hair, hoping it grounded you from the hungover dizziness currently plaguing your head.
"Yeah that's probably from when you head-butted the doorframe trying to take your boots off." You hadn't even noticed Bucky sat on one of the sofas across the room, and your eyes shot up to stare at him, a terrible mix of embarrassment and worry settling in your gut about what he might recount from the previous night.
"You'd think a trained assassin would have better balance." Ava snickered, bumping shoulders with Yelena.
Walker went to open his mouth with a grin, and you cut him off before he could speak. Sometimes he got a little too big for his boots and forgot he was the universal punching bag for the team- said with love, of course. "Walker. We all know that poster is up there to hide the hole from when you tripped and put your forehead through the wall- and you weren't even drunk." You shot back, the room erupting into laughter as the soldier deflated. Nothing brought the team together like bullying Walker.
"Oh are we being mean to Walker already?" Bob, seemingly summoned by the bitching, walked in and plonked himself down at the island next to Yelena.
"No, we were making fun of the drunken idiot, but Walker was just too easy of a target." She mused, and you rolled your eyes once more when she pulled out her phone, whispering that she’d show him the video of you falling headfirst into the wall. Oh joy.
"I'm sorry- are we just gonna breeze over Bucky's comment? Were you two just hanging out last night?" Bob and Yelena stopped in their tracks where they were giggling at her screen, and all eyes flicked from Walker, to you, and then to Bucky. Sick pooled in your stomach, and you couldn't quite blame it all on the hangover. It wasn’t that anything partially happened with Bucky- not that you could remember anyway, but rather the fact that they had a tendency to run with a joke and you didn’t really want him to fall victim to that. Although, you had to admit, he could dish more than he could take, you’d seen as much in almost every conversation between him and Walker.
"Another reason why I'm the leader and not you, John. I actually try to look after the team." Like it was a tennis match, they all in sync turned back to Walker, eyes wide, waiting for his response. As snappy as he always was, any bite back from Bucky seemed to knock him. If you didn’t know him any better, you’d probably think it was well deserved.
"Okay- Jesus." He held his hands up in defence, making Bucky crack a smirk.
"He's got you there." Ava pointed to him with her spoon, and he rolled his eyes.
"Yeah yeah, why don't we go back to bullying him for getting so drunk Bucky probably had to carry him to his room." You had to bite back a squeak of shock at his words- you'd presumed no one knew about that, considering you barely remembered it yourself. Vague memories of hanging over the back of his shoulder, giggling as he swung you down and threw you onto the bed- unfortunately not in the way you’d hoped.
You glanced over at Bucky, but the man just shook his head once. Walker just made a very accurate guess by the seem of it. Say what you want about him- but sometimes he did have his moments.
"I probably danced with more people at the club last night than you ever have in your entire life." You didn’t quite know why or where that statement came from, and you spoke overtop of your mug, holding it up in the hopes it would hide your embarrassment and the rapidly growing regret.
"Oh! He got you there." Yelena snorted, flashing a grin in your direction, any excuse to make fun of the other man and she was there.
"I'm sure it helps when you look like a different person." He snapped, though there wasn't genuine malice in his tone, and you couldn't help but laugh as he frowned at you like a child.
"Yeah-Yeah, okay, probably." You shrugged, placing your mug down. "But if we went out as ourselves, I still reckon I'd get more dates than Dollarstore Captain America." Something sparked in Walker's eyes, and a determined grin settled on his lips- jesus christ, you couldn’t help but put your foot in your mouth. But you straightened your back to act like you believed you could win, Walker could smell weakness, and you wouldn’t let that asshole get under your skin about it.
"It's on." He held a hand out, and your chest thrummed as you took it.
"It's on." You echoed, shaking it in an agreement you definitely wouldn't regret later...Definitely. "Now, I'm going back to bed." You heard the noise of the footage starting up again as you left the room, and rubbed your hands over your face as laughter erupted from your team. Though Bucky’s was notably absent.
You’re a shapeshifter, a little rough around the edges- stupid, as John would put it. Probably not the best addition to the team.
And Bucky’s everything you’re not. Controlled, careful, reserved, almost polished as he grows into his new role. But that doesn’t stop him from putting his foot in his mouth and accidentally asking questions you’re not quite prepared for. But why not play along for the fun of the game? Being 100 had never looked so good.
warnings: alcohol consumption.
no real description of reader past hair colour/clothing but that is just a temporary appearance. no use of y/n
set in the thunderbolts* era if that’s not obvious
A/N: this was originally a male oc! i’ve switched the pronouns around to be an X reader cause i think that’s what more people are after, so sorry if the grammar is a bit fucked in places, just let me know and i’ll fix it!
"Fuck-" You hissed, stumbling stupidly through the elevator, clutching your bag to your chest with one hand as you did so. "Water water water." You muttered to yourself, debating mentally whether to drop your belongings in your room or just make a beeline to the kitchen to get a sweet glass of refreshing water and some awful ramen to soothe the pounding that was already starting in your head. "Food first." You decided, too drunk to realise you were talking out loud, wandering towards the kitchen, leaning down to untie your boots, though you careened into the wall, cursing softly under your breath as you did so.
"How much did you drink? The whole bar?" The voice of another person caught you off guard, and you stumbled back to stare up at the owner of it, and you were rather surprised to meet the eyes of Bucky.
Bucky. The Winter Soldier. You’d never been friends- per se. You were definitely coworkers, but not close ones either. You were amicable. The pushing 100 year old super soldier and a 26 year old mutant weren't ever gonna be the best of buddies.
"Why are you awake?" Your words came out more slurred than you’d hoped, and you frowned at the man leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, like he was well prepared to scold you for being out so late.
"Well, I don't like sleeping when I know not everyone is safe. Call it an army habit." Oh. Your stomach dropped, and you immediately moved in the kitchen to drop your bag on the counter.
"Bucky I'm sorry, I should've said I-" The soldier brushed it off quickly, pulling a smile to your lips.
"It's fine, I'm also just a terrible insomniac." He reached over, patting you on your shoulder. "Can I ask you something?" He tilted his head to the side, and you tried to pretend like you didn't see him drag it up your form.
"Sure." You soon remembered your original quest in the kitchen, and stepped around him to grab a glass of water, gulping it like you’d never drank anything before.
"What's the disguise you use when you go out like this?" Bucky raised a brow, and you couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, I want to see it." You rolled your eyes, placing the glass down and stepping backwards.
You closed your eyes and let the feeling of changing rush over you. You’d had a few appearances over the years, but this had been your go-to for a while. Your body didn't change, but your face morphed and your hair stuck up in all directions, bleaching white, piercings morphing out of your skin.
"Woah." Bucky hummed. Of course he'd seen you change a million times, but that was normally into people he knew, so seeing you change fully into something of your own design felt so different. "So is what you looked like before, that is just what you look like?" You felt a little self conscious as you changed back to your usual self, nodding.
"Yeah, I can't hold a disguise for longer than a day. I'm working on it, but not without breaks." Bucky seemed to study you for a moment, eyes tracking all over you, almost scrutinising in a way that made you want to sink through the floor.
"I prefer you like this." He paused. "For what it's worth, anyway." You hated it, but you couldn't help the heat crawling up your cheeks, you didn't think anyone had shared that sentiment before.
"Thanks, Bucky."
"Why don't you sit down, I'll make you some ramen." He pointed towards the stools at the kitchen island. "Let me rephrase, please sit down before you fall over. I don't think you realise how drunk you are." He emphasised when you didn't move.
"Yeah-That might be a good idea." You plonked yourself down, taking a few small sips of water, in your brief conversation you’d completely passed over how drunk you’d been. Which, was still very violent -you must say, and you pressed your forehead to the cold marble counter to soothe the pounding in your head.
"Here." You didn't know how long you’d been laying with your head down, or even if you’d been awake the whole time, but a cold hand pressed to your back, rubbing a few gentle circles. "C'mon, have some food." Bucky hummed, squeezing your shoulder as you placed down the bowl.
"Thank you Bucky." You mumbled, your words still muddled and slurred, and you hazily watched Bucky sit down in the chair opposite you. He didn't respond, just offered a small smile as you began to eat.
"Do you go out with friends?" He asked, raising a quizzical brow, drumming fingers gently on the table.
"Sometimes- not tonight though, it was just me." You spoke around a mouthful of noodles, tilting your head to the side with a smile.
"You meet a guy?" First of all, you weren’t aware that Bucky knew you were gay, and second of all, the question was so out of character that you almost dropped your fork, eyes wide and blurry. "Sorry, that was- that was wrong of me to ask." He immediately apologised, that 40s gentlemanly instinct.
"No it's 'kay- just caught me off guard." You couldn't help but giggle at the way Bucky looked genuinely mortified with himself. "Not tonight- devastatingly." You tacked on the last word with a quiet annoyance, only partially aware of what you were saying, and the fact you probably shouldn't say things like that in front of Bucky. "It's hard- hard to pick up guys when you-when you have to leave in the middle of the night so they don't see who you are." You rambled, drunk. "Can't even bring them back here." The words came out in annoyed huff, and Bucky chuckled.
"The joys of living here." Bucky mused, resting his head on his hand, watching you a little too intensely.
"What about you then? A-Any lucky people out there?" You regretted the question as soon as you said it, clapping your hand over your mouth. "I'm so sorry-" Bucky only laughed, a genuine, deep belly laugh that had your skin tingling.
"No-No, it's only fair, I did just ask you almost the same thing." He reached out, patting your arm reassuringly, gesturing for you to continue eating. "But no. Dating gets a little hard when you're over 100 years old."
"You don't look a day over 20, Buck." You grinned, still shovelling forkfulls of noodles into your mouth. "Anyone would be lucky to have you." You mumbled without much thought, and you barely caught the smirk crossing Bucky's lips.
"Thank you." His voice came out a gentle hum, he was genuinely touched at the sentiment, and the blush covering his face certainly helped.
They spent the next few minutes in silence- aside from you slurping down the noodles, before Bucky spoke again. "Now, if you've finished, I think it's time you get some sleep." He swept the bowl out from in front of you, he'd spent the last 5 minutes watching you attempt to blink away sleep, head rested on top of your fist.
"Yes Sergeant." You mumbled with a little giggle, and Bucky had to suppress a laugh himself.
"Come on." He placed the bowl in the sink before rounding the counter, sliding an arm under your armpit, helping you back to your feet.
"You're so nice to me." You pressed your head into Bucky's shoulder as he attempted to right you, using his body to keep you steady.
"And you're so drunk, come on." He mused, trying to walk you a few steps before realising it was an impossible task.
"God-" He huffed, and without another thought, scooped you into his arms, slinging you over his shoulder, hearing you shriek with laughter when he did so. "There we go." He kept his metal arm tucked against the back of your knees as he walked towards the elevator, and you gently traced circles through his shirt as you hung upside down.
He wandered down the hall once you were at your floor, pushing the door open to your bedroom "Here we go." He hummed. walking over to your bed before dropping you down rather unceremoniously.
"Thanks Buck." You were a mess of giggles, and you bounced softly from the force of Bucky swinging you down.
"Yeah yeah." He rolled his eyes, glancing down towards your feet. "C'mon, let's get these off." And so he moved to loosen the laces from where you’d done half a job earlier, gently working them off your feet as you lay flat on your back, watching with a tired smile.
"You're hot for an 100 year old." His hands stalled, one on the heel of your boot and the other cradling your calf, but only for a moment, quickly regaining his composure.
"For your sake in the morning, I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that." He laughed, but it was quiet, a little too tight in his throat as he placed your shoes beside his bed. "But c'mon, you have too much jewellery off to sleep in." He moved back to your torso, hooking hands under your armpits to lift you up and prop you back against the headboard. "C'mon, help me here." He sighed, though it wasn't in annoyance, fingers immediately prying at the clasps of your many necklaces, crowded over your form.
"You don't have-have to do this." You grumbled, but nevertheless you didn't put up a fight, your forehead resting against Bucky's chest.
"Yes, but if you manage to choke yourself in the night I wouldn't be able to live with it." He was only half joking, pulling away when he'd finally taken them off, looped over his arm.
"I-I knew you were soft." They could barely see each other in the light, and Bucky had never been more glad, because it meant you wouldn't notice the blush flushing across his cheeks.
"Yeah well- don't tell anyone." He joked softly, moving to lay the jewellery down on your bedside table.
"Your secrets safe with me, Sargeant." He looked back to you in just enough time to see you miming zipping your lips, giggling drunkenly.
"Go to sleep, please." Bucky was pretty sure you had passed out anyway before he'd even made it to the door.
discoholicmusic
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
gracieabrams
izzy806
