Old Barnes Rivalry
Summary: You, Natasha and Bucky are caught in an endless and doomed love triangle.
Natasha Romanoff x Barnes!Mutant Reader. Gender neutral pronouns in use.
Warnings: Mentions to alleged cheating (though no actual cheating), mild sexual tension (R and N), family rivalry, Reader is a bad sibling of questionable character who has also fallen in love with their brother’s girlfriend, mildly vulgar and questionable language, Bucky and Reader can’t stand each other.
Word count: 6,045 words
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The warmth from the fireplace crackled throughout the living room, creating a calm and subtle atmosphere throughout the Compound building. You were relaxing, lying lazily on one of the sofas with a book in your hands—probably about the process of building a nuclear power plant. To tell the truth, you had absolutely no interest in that sort of thing, but at the moment, it was better than listening to Rhodes’s repetitive old military stories with Steve or having to pay attention to the way Wanda was trying to flirt with Vision in a way that he would understand with his brain made up of a thousand and one connections made of wires and whatever else. Tony had decided to make cocktails to show off his commitment to his new “zero alcohol” diet.
“I could add this to my resume. Besides being perfect, good-looking, a genius, selfless, and a thousand other qualities, I also know how to make a good old-fashioned Piña Colada since… forever.” He whistled from the kitchen.
“Sometimes Tony believes he was a Puerto Rican gangster in a past life.” Steve shook his head, arms crossed over his rock-hard chest.
“You don’t understand how alcohol destroys us all over the decades, dear Cap. Leave that to those who know what they’re doing.” He replied calmly, swirling the clear liquid in his glass from side to side.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me Pepper had talked you into going on that fanciful diet.” You whistled, turning a page with the tip of your thumb.
“Yes, of course, my beautiful wife suggested it.” He corrected you as he crossed the room with his drink.
“I’ll be damned. Impressive. Tomorrow night, at the main event, we’ll have the whole cellar, thanks to the help of our most trusted ally, Clinton Barton (who’s getting on in years), so you’ll need some whiskey running through your veins, Stark.” Your lips curved slightly, and he rolled his eyes.
Before Tony could even protest, heavy footsteps crossed the threshold and the elevator doors slammed shut with a loud, sharp click as none other than your brother arrived. James. Or, as he was always known, Bucky. But you called him James; you liked to see him lose his cool just because of a little too much formality, even though they shared the same blood. He was a self-assured man, and even after spending so many years with his brain polluted by brainwashing, he still came across as the same nice, polite, and perfect James to most people he knew.
“What an atmosphere,” Wanda whispered to Vision as she watched the super soldier cross the room with his partner while they argued in a tone that was anything but friendly. “Sinister.”
Natasha was the perfect embodiment of indifference. Even in a relationship, committed to sharing feelings and talking deeply with someone about absolutely everything in her life, she still hid behind cracks, preferring to keep her distance and, in a way, pushing him away whenever any bomb from her past threatened to explode. She was too cold. He was a man torn between the scars that had turned him into a true beast and his true heart—that was what he felt.
“We’re not done talking yet, Natasha!” He exclaimed, not seeming to care much about the argument being played out in front of their teammates.
“Yes, we’re done here, and I don’t want to hear another word about it, James. I’m an adult and free enough to know what decisions I can and cannot make in my work here.” She said as she crossed the room, leaving him behind as he followed her.
“If they’re like this in a committed relationship, imagine what it’s like in a marriage. That’s worthy of a great Midgardian play!” Thor chuckled, emerging from the training room drenched in sweat with a towel slung over his shoulder.
““With that kind of conversation, they’re not going anywhere,” Steve said seriously.
You, on the other hand, didn’t say a single word for a moment. There were many opinions you held that sometimes should have stayed safely locked away in your mutant mind. Your relationship with James wasn’t good, and it hadn’t been for a while; that meant you shouldn’t care one bit about how his love life was going. But there was something on your mind, deep down inside. A woman in all of this. A woman who wasn’t yours, who was off-limits.
“Wipe that smug little smile off your face, Barnes.” Stark leaned close to the sofa where you were sitting, elegantly holding his glass. “You’ve got enough on your plate without getting between your brother and Natasha. They’re a ticking time bomb, trouble for sure, and you know it.”
“I didn’t say anything, Stark. On the contrary. I admit it’s disappointing. My brother was certainly a womanizer a century ago, and today he’s chained up like a rabid dog—it’s pitiful.” You laughed softly, licking your lips.
“And you might be the next one to get leashed, Y/n. Don’t forget that fate can change overnight.” Wanda walked past you, sizing you up carefully. “You don’t choose love. And there are certain things that people like us can't undo.”
“The girl’s right. You never know when you might fall head over heels for someone. But don’t get close to Natasha. This is a team, not a movie theater with tickets to a cheap love triangle.” Tony rolled his eyes, giving you a squeeze on the shoulders.
“You two are being completely ridiculous these days.” You snorted, getting up from the couch.
Turning your back to the rest of the team, you picked up your book from under your arm and walked through the corridors to reach the main bathroom. Sometimes it was common for some team members to even see each other naked; there was no malice in the eyes of those who trusted one another. Your back almost screamed in relief when the warm water touched your bare skin and you rested your head against the cold pillar of the wall, feeling yourself relax for the brief moment. Your hands ran through your hair and you didn't even move when you heard him enter, placing himself in the shower next to you.
Your lips curled into a smug, provocative smile as you smelled the metallic and lemony scent of James.
And well, you were siblings and had grown up together; you had seen each other as they came into the world many times.
"Problems in paradise lead to complications for the rest of the people around when you work as a team, you know," You murmured calmly, feeling the tension and frustration emanating from his skin.
"No time for rhetorical jokes, Y/n. You know better than anyone when work comes first." He retorted, looking at you with a certain disdain.
“First? Is that what you told her?” Steam swirled around your body as you smiled cynically at him, lathering yourself up. “I thought work and personal relationships shouldn’t mix.”
“It’s not just about work; it’s about me and her.” He muttered, running his hand over his sparse beard for a moment. “She’s my girlfriend, and you know it.”
“Oh, I had no idea.” Your eyes rolled slightly.
Bucky had always watched you closely. He’d noticed your furtive glances at his girlfriend, your subtle, casual gestures of rehearsed “kindness” toward her, the way you treated her as if she were the only one on the team—as if the two of you were so close. He was wise enough to know when someone wanted to get their hands on what he considered his. And knowing that his own sibling was so petty, cynical, and self-centered irritated him deeply, even though he no longer expected much from you.
You didn’t truly hate James. You hated feeling like you always, somehow, wanted what he had.
“You, stay away from her. This is my final warning.” He held his breath, his cold eyes trying to intimidate you in some way.
You, the older sibling, the most insensitive and detached one.
You turned to him with a half-smile, brushing the strands of hair stuck to your forehead aside, and turned off the water as you finished your shower. The steam enveloped your warm body, highlighting your even more defined and physically well-structured form. Bucky was a super soldier and was great at what he did; he was strong, fast. But you were a mutant, with a rare gene called Titan Index. That meant many things; one of them was that you were basically one of the strongest members of the Compound. You fall into one of the most dangerous categories of mutants, posing a “Crimson” threat level to the government and society as a whole. It also meant you could beat him so badly he’d never forget it, because you knew you had the upper hand.
“Take good care of your girl, little brother.” You grabbed the towel hanging near the wall, covering yourself, and looked at him proudly before walking out the door.
***
You felt Tony slip the velvet-lined box into your pocket as he gave a simple wave of his hand. The evening felt thick with an air of sophistication, imposed by the illustrious presence of the billionaire philanthropist and his parties—not lavish, but described by him as essential to maintaining the team’s dignity and honor. But it was an intimate gathering amongst friends to celebrate yet another year they had spent with Clint as the brave and mighty Hawkeye, but also as a noble and loyal friend. A gentle melody from a jazz classic chosen by Steve played in the background of the spacious hall hired for the evening. The rest of the group had barely arrived, so it was just you, Steve, Thor and him, as well as waiting for the birthday ‘boy’.
“I hope he likes this model; I had to search every shop in Texas for a single watch model that had leather on it and that silver horse-studded pattern and all those details.” Tony whispered incessantly at your side.
“Clint has refined taste. I’m sure he’ll like our not-so-small… gift.” You shrugged.
You knew that Clint liked the little things—horses (especially racehorses), leather, and watches. He was like an old retired cowboy, so you teamed up with Tony on a little mission to find a gift for him. It was a gift he’d been talking about nonstop all year, something he wanted to add to his collection of such things, so you and Tony put the pieces together.
“Where are the others? I was stuck in traffic deciding between bourbon and rum for our rugged cowboy.” Bruce appeared dressed in a navy blue suit with a beige bag in his hand.
“I hope you chose the bourbon. Good rum is only made in Cuba, buddy.” Tony chuckled softly, and you narrowed your eyes.
“I thought you’d quit drinking, buddy.” You licked your lips, fixing your gaze on the building’s entrance.
“Just a suggestion, executioner.” Tony gave you a pat on the shoulder.
The rest of the group was gradually arriving. Laura, his wife, and their children Nathaniel, Lila, and Cooper. Not to mention the real distinguished guest, of course. With that, it was Nick Fury’s dramatic entrance—not just the boss, but the wisest man among them.
Maria Hill looked stunning by his side, strutting her stuff in a dark blue dress that covered far too much. Far too much for someone who’d already seen plenty of her. Hint: you. And many, many times over. But she was an interesting woman; as well as being an excellent professional, she was exactly the sort of perfect, no-nonsense woman you could get attached to. But you never managed to.
“Looks like someone might end up getting lucky by the end of the night after all.” Tony smiled smugly, noticing your brief glance at Maria.
“Focus here, Stark. Our mission is Clint. Look who’s here, the reason your mood’s been spot on all day.” You nodded towards Pepper, who was walking towards you with a small smile.
“You two look simply magnificent tonight. And you, I saw you eyeing the bottle of drink Dr Banner brought. I’m keeping an eye on you, handsome.” She pulled him by his tie, her lips touching his slowly.
“I can see I’m going to be left out.” You snorted, hands in the pockets of your attire, listening to the front door creak slowly as someone else arrived.
“I don’t think Bucky’s coming.” Steve sighed in the background, and before he could say anything else, you looked ahead.
Clint walked through the entrance with his usual laid-back, easygoing manner, adjusting his black suit, his hair slightly tousled into a mohawk he’d started growing out every two weeks. He seemed out of place amid all that luxury and grandeur, but he didn’t need to fit in; he was there because it mattered to him. Not the thousand-dollar chandelier, the imported drinks, the polished decor, or the venue itself, but for his family. His friends, his team. They were everything to him—and a little more than he thought he deserved.
“He’s finally here!” Thor exclaimed, guiding him inside as he arrived with him, passing by Vision and Wanda.
But something seemed different in the air.
The center of attention at the party didn’t seem to be the birthday boy—not to you. It was the woman walking beside him, her red hair like crimson embers sliding down her bare, slender shoulders, her sharp green eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. She moved gracefully beside her best friend; the black dress with a thigh-high slit and minimalist neckline made her seem like the only one there besides you. The world seemed to spin, shattering and crashing with noises that made your ears hurt. The effect of her distinguished presence was making your body react.
“Bucky is really late. He said he doesn’t know if he’ll make it by midnight.” A distant voice buzzed in your ears, snapping you out of your trance.
You slowly shifted your attention, noticing that Steve was on the phone, probably talking to your brother. Yes, she wasn’t with him.
And yes, something seemed too good to be true tonight.
“We’d better take the kids to the garden in the back—there are too many drinks here!” Pepper chattered with Laura as they watched you all gather.
“If it isn’t the life of the party. Look at him, all the charmer.” Tony laughed, giving him a firm hug.
“The big guy’s getting old. Too old and tired for these late nights, but what wouldn’t I do for you guys, huh?” He shook his head, then greeted you.
“You’re in good shape, Clint. That’s more than proven. Come on, let’s get you something to wake you up.” You said as you gestured toward the bar, feeling the texture of the box in your pocket.
As you discreetly passed the box to Tony in one swift motion, Clint, he, and Steve were mixing a drink. You shoved your hands into your now-empty pockets, strategically approaching the woman in black who had been capturing all your attention without even saying a word so far. She was stunning, breathtaking, just like every other time you’d seen her. There was no denying it. But she was still your brother’s girlfriend.
“I have to admit, that’s a beautiful dress. But that look on your face—like someone stepped on your foot on the way here—doesn’t really go well with it.” You muttered, feeling her gaze take you in from head to toe.
“You don’t miss a chance, do you? You know he could show up at any moment.” She replied, feigning indifference as she poured herself some champagne.
“But he won’t.” You licked your lips, feeling her sharp gaze on your face. “You know he won’t. He knows he won’t. And being afraid of my lovely brother is like being afraid of one of those giant teddy bears—I’d never have such a misfortune.”
“You two fight like cats and dogs. But even you know you’d kill for him at every opportunity.” Natasha pointed, slowly raising the glass to her red-painted lips.
“So this is about work.” You changed the subject abruptly, grabbing a glass of whiskey that a waiter had brought over. “That’s what he implied. Work never gets mixed up with the chaos and tragedy that is love.”
“And suddenly you’re interested in how your brother’s relationships are going. How fascinating, even appealing.” She smiled without humor, analyzing your expressions.
“I’m not interested. I’m just pointing out a fact; you decide whether it’s true or not.” Your whisper came out calm, too calm for her calculated coldness.
Natasha didn’t try to figure you out. To her, you were complex. She needed to fit the pieces together to understand you, like a jigsaw puzzle. But she was patient. She could feel your gaze, feel your warmth, even from a distance, even when everything seemed wrong. It was different from being with Bucky. He was too politically correct for her. You were immorally imperfect and brilliant in your own way. This was confusing her for the first time. Natasha Romanoff didn’t feel as smart as she always thought she was.
“The mission in Iran. The one involving Tony’s missing missiles that ended up in the wrong hands—unknown hands, but certainly the wrong ones. At first, Fury had spared me, and the rest of the team too, except for you, Tony, Steve, and him.” She said in a low, subtle tone, though one tinged with frustration.
“He doesn’t want you to go.” You said, not as a question but as an obvious and clear statement.
You spent years and years chasing James, vowing to turn his life into a playground for your sadistic plans. For personal reasons. A childhood feud.
You knew him much better than she thought.
“What he wants is to control me. We’ve already had this conversation; Fury has considered my going, and everything’s been settled. Not that your stubborn brother understands that.” She shrugged, emptying her glass.
“He knows he can’t control you. If you want to go along with it, there’s nothing to be done; there shouldn’t be any argument.” You shrugged, your eyes sweeping over her face.
“Now go and tell him that, and see the storm in a teacup James is going to cause.” She whispered simply.
“To tell you the truth, there are a few things that are debatable. James himself is passive-aggressive; he always tries to have things his way, on his terms, whenever he thinks things are about to fall apart.” You smiled cynically.
“Oh, because you’re always so disciplined and peace-loving.” She raised an eyebrow.
“But that’s precisely the point—I’m not. I don’t need to pretend to be orderly. If I want to see something burn, I’ll throw the matchstick into the trail of petrol and let it go up in flames. James holds back before acting.” You pointed out calmly. “Even so, he has every privilege. You.”
“I’m not some trophy to be treated as a privilege.” She shook her head in disbelief, looking offended.
“I didn’t say that,” you replied softly, your lips almost curving into a smile. “But he has every right to feel that he needs to protect a woman like you.”
Natasha seemed at a loss for words for a moment. That remark could mean many things. None of them seemed to make sense to her, and just as she seemed to have reached a coherent conclusion, Clint joined you with a broad smile, like a child who’d just been given a piece of candy.
“I can’t believe you remembered. Do you have any idea how much that costs?” He put his arm around your shoulders, one hand displaying the gleaming watch that contrasted with the sparkle of the chandeliers.
“That’s on Tony’s tab, buddy. And you know he wouldn’t mind, so today the credit is all yours.” You gave him a light slap on the chest.
“What’s the secret to maintaining such youthful beauty over so many years of life? Come on, I’m curious to know your secret since you’re a few years older than me.” He laughed, slightly tipsy.
“Well, I think a few good doses of alcohol a day to maintain what sanity I have left.” You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he was saying.
“You’re hilarious. Every day it becomes clearer that one of the best decisions I ever made was crossing paths with you in the middle of all this, kid.” He smiled, then looked at Natasha. “And you, you stay within your limits. Looks like the hunk isn’t going to show up.”
“The night is still young, Clint.” You slipped a hand into your pocket, turning your head as a slow, gentle melody filled the air. “How romantic.”
“It’s my party, isn’t it? So I think everyone here should dance together and give me that honor.” He shrugged, walking over to his wife.
“Perfect. Why not just stay here playing the lone wolf?” You muttered to yourself, watching the lights grow dimmer and darker.
And she was still there, now with her phone in hand, pretending she wasn’t checking it every ten seconds, looking for a message. From him, of course. You clenched your jaw slightly, watching the couples form—first Clint and his wife, so naturally at ease in their own little world of love, then Sharon Carter and Steve, Tony and Pepper, Thor and Jane, and so on. Until half the room was divided between them and you. You already knew he wouldn’t show up, but you also knew she was hoping he would. Disappointing. And for a minute, she seemed to finally come to her senses.
“No one’s looking.” You approached her slowly, taking one of her hands so carefully that she looked at you as if you weren’t of this world. “Just don’t step on my foot—your heel is too sharp.”
“If your brother finds out you danced with me, consider it a declaration of war.” She whispered, her breath catching softly as she felt your hand touch her waist.
“He’ll survive. He wouldn’t be the man he is today without having fought many battles.” You replied, slowly guiding her across the dance floor to the rhythm of the music.
“And what kind of woman should I be?” she asked in a low voice, her hands hesitantly and gently touching your shoulders. “You said earlier that he’s right to try to protect a woman like me. What would I be like?”
“Like a woman who doesn’t put a price on herself. Moral, selfless, loyal, real. A woman anyone would kill to have.” You fixed your eyes on her, trying to ignore the way your gaze seemed to wander to her mouth every minute.
“But James already has me,” She stated, already expecting a cynical remark from you or a look of disapproval.
You didn’t answer immediately, turning her slowly while holding her wrist as gently as if you were grasping a feather. Natasha returned the gaze, her hand feeling the tension in the muscle of your right shoulder subtly beneath the dark fabric. She wasn’t being discreet; she was trying to project an image of “the nice sister-in-law.” It felt strange, being this close to her like this. And having her as a sister-in-law when you wanted her all to yourself.
“Maybe he’s got a point there. For now.” You whispered in reply, moving gently so that she was drawn closer and closer to your body.
“For now. What’s that supposed to mean?” Her fingers pressed lightly against your defined bicep, feeling you tense up. In a good way.
“It must mean I’m about to be pretty selfish right here.” Your grip around her waist tightened, enough to make her wonder if the flush on her cheeks was from the alcohol or your touch.
Natasha leaned in unconsciously, her chest practically pressed against you. You could feel her heat, so unbearably tempting as if she were begging you to do something to break this closeness once and for all. Your eyes remained fixed on every detail of her face as your body moved in a slow, calculated rhythm, the tip of your thumb sliding down her cheek, just to feel its softness. To remember it. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if holding back from something, denying herself. You knew she was, and why. But a part of you, as eccentric as it was, wanted her to forget everything and move forward.
“You’re really going to ruin everything.” She breathed softly against your face, biting her lip in a way that made her look even more tempting.
“Then try to stop me.” You replied simply, your hungry eyes taking in every inch of the perfection and radiant beauty before you.
The music now seemed faint and almost inaudible to her unfocused ears. Her eyes wavered, on the verge of giving in. Your warm hand—so large it could cover her face—gently held it and tilted her head forward, a movement so simple were it not for the atmosphere of tension and unspoken words.
“Stop me if you want,” You continued, your voice calmer than ever. “Or surrender. Let me show you what it’s like to truly be consumed.”
But it was just a fleeting touch. A slow brush of lips, so slow it seemed to last an eternity, as if she were light-years away. Even though it was only seconds there. Your breath flooded hers, bringing even more heat and presence—a chaotic, mysterious presence that could make her lose her mind. Totally different from the organized, calm control Bucky provided. Natasha closed and opened her eyes tightly, feeling the phone vibrate violently in her slim purse, interrupting any slip she was about to make right there. While he was on his way.
Your lips brushed the corner of her mouth as she turned away, one hand touching your neck and gently pushing you back to prevent something even bigger from happening.
“One minute.” She turned away, leaving you standing there without another word.
Your own mouth burned where it had touched the redhead. A simple touch could change everything—as dramatic as that might sound.
“Everything okay there, Wall?” Thor appeared at your side with a playful smile, offering you a generous pour of whatever that drink was.
“Yeah, sure. Just a little more of that to keep the blood flowing.” You nodded slightly, hearing the demigod’s loud laugh.
“That’s the spirit, my friend!” he said, stepping back to fill his mug with what looked like mead.
But you knew perfectly well that everything felt wrong there.
You, like a lone wolf, were now pouring Scotch—or Irish whiskey, whatever it was—down your throat while watching Natasha answer a call outside the building, looking apprehensive and increasingly out of her tough, indifferent Avenger composure. It was him. It was clear enough. For a moment, you hoped a bolt of lightning would strike that phone, especially if it came from Mjölnir. On the other hand, you knew there was nothing to be done.
“You know, I advised you to keep your distance. Especially since I know he’s your brother. But knowing you as I do, I see a storm coming.” Tony appeared at your side, sunglasses covering his slightly glazed eyes.
“Then you better grab a good umbrella, buddy.” You replied, emptying your glass and downing one shot after another before leaning on the nearest railing.
“This isn’t going to end well. Just don’t do this here.”
He gave you a light pat on the shoulder. “No drama—Clint’s just making the most of it.”
You just nodded at him, setting the empty glass right on his chest, and walked slightly away across the room, stepping out onto the terrace just as Natasha hung up the phone. Her face looked pale, somehow even more distant than before. Something didn’t seem right at all. She sensed your presence; she didn’t even need to turn around to look into those eyes that threatened to devour her soul and keep it for themselves.
“No,” She said as she felt you take a step forward. “Not a word.”
“You’re waiting for a man who’s going to keep disappointing every single one of your expectations, even though he’s supposed to be the perfect guy.” You said, taking another step, the light breeze ruffling your hair. “Tell me where the surprise is.”
“And you’re a prime example, yes. You, so cruel in your own way, self-centered, clueless.” She shook her head, still with her back to the New York skyline. “Does your heart still beat?”
“My heart is right here.” You clenched your jaw, taking one last step, coming within striking distance of her. “Natasha. Look at me.”
No response. She didn’t turn around. Stubborn, still trapped in her own excessive self-control.
“You want to feel my heart beat. I can show you exactly how it beats.” You moved closer again, watching her turn for a moment.
It took a fraction of a second. The cold, cloudy breeze froze your face for a moment, cutting through it. But her kiss brought you back to life. Warm, deep, with no time for arguments, the perfect fit. That’s how her lips felt. And your heart beat as she was swept up by your impulse, by the kiss you knew could ruin everything, including what was left of your brother’s sanity. But nothing mattered except the way she felt around you, against your skin, the firm touch of your fingers on her waist, the way her tender mouth slid beneath yours in a patient, yet eager dance.
She didn’t respond; she didn’t move. But she didn’t need to.
You just needed to feel her. You needed to prove a point to her. You needed to prove what she really wanted there, beyond what she was hiding behind her mask of indifference and frigidity.
But you could feel her lips parting slowly, wanting to give in, wanting to lose control.
Her eyes opened at some point, taking in the sight of her there. Right in front of you, her breathing short and completely erratic. Your heartbeat was loud there, so loud that anyone with enhanced hearing could hear you from a long distance away. A mutant thing, after all. Her lips remained like that, painted red and subtly smudged, proof of your impulsive act and its result. Her eyes seemed dilated, a dark, wild green meeting yours in a silent yet deafening encounter.
“Now you hear,” you murmured, your chest rising and falling so slowly that you might have thought you were going to die if you weren’t nearly immortal. “Loud enough.”
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” she murmured, her lips parted, looking devastated and filled with an indecipherable emotion.
“Maybe I know exactly where I want to be.” Your shoulders shrugged, and you slowly licked your lips.
But Natasha chose to remain silent—a silence that was agonizing and unyielding. Especially when the door opened behind you, revealing a flustered Bucky who seemed completely out of place. He was dressed neatly, in a suit and tie, but he looked as if he were about to explode at any moment, like a live bomb in a minefield.
“What on earth is going on here?” He looked from one of you to the other.
“You’re late for the main event, bro.” You muttered, running your thumb slowly over your lips as if you could still feel her on you.
“What’s up? Natasha, what’s going on?” He arched his dark eyebrow, his demeanor shifting from nervous to menacing in an instant.
“What’s going on is that you must have gotten lost on the way, James. What’s going on here is a lip-service conversation, you know, it’s what happens when you leave your girl waiting for you just so you can screw everything up again and again.” You sneered, your lips forming a kiss in his direction.
“Y/n, stop. This isn’t the time.” Natasha scolded you, clearly lost in her emotions. “Let’s talk somewhere else, James.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You kissed my girlfriend knowing I’m right here in front of you?” He clenched his jaw tightly, closing in on you.
“What? Were you expecting a private show?” You curled your lips, feeling his gaze fall on your skin, stained with her lipstick.
That was the last straw. Bucky lunged forward, breaking through any barrier that might have whispered moral advice in his ear—advice not to end the night so abruptly, not to do something he’d regret later. But it already seemed too late. You felt his hands swing you from side to side until they shoved you against a wall, one hand wrapping around your neck in a grip that would be deadly if you weren’t so much stronger than him.
“What’s your problem? I told you to stay away from her!” He growled, the grip tightening beneath you, the metal hand producing a creaking sound against your throat.
“Maybe your empty head didn’t consider the fact that she doesn’t want to be away from me, bro.” You sneered, shoving him away by the chest. “Or the fact that she was in need of a little company.”
“You two, cut it out right now. You look like two kids fighting over a toy. I’m far from being one.” Natasha stepped between you, looking you up and down.
“So that’s it, you just accept that they kiss you while I’m not here? What the hell is going on in your head?” He asked her, his eyes darkening with rage.
“It baffles me that after all this—after leaving me waiting like a fool—you still think you’re in the right and have the right to question anything, James.” She raised an eyebrow with obvious indignation and then turned back to you, instantly wiping the smirk off your face. “It baffles me even more that you think I’d kiss you back.”
“Ouch. That almost hurt.” You curved your lips into a balanced, ironic smile.
But in fact, a part of you had been hurt, and how.
Hearing that after giving yourself to her and getting what you wanted was even worse than a punch in the stomach, regardless of your high pain tolerance. You looked away at James, who was still seething from the inside out, as if he’d been stabbed in the worst way of his life. You weren’t trying to steal her from him—on the contrary. But to you, she had always been meant to be yours, and that was the worst thing you could feel right now. Because he was still your brother.
“You and I need to take a break. Give me some space. Don’t ruin Clint’s night.” She asked quietly, appearing to touch up her makeup for a moment.
She walked out, leaving the two of you to deal with the confusion of what had happened.
“You got what you wanted, didn’t you? You’re finally ruining my whole life.” He growled, his metal fist clenched so tightly it could snap from the force.
“Ruining your life? I’m not the one pushing the woman you love away from yourself out of pride, brother.” You furrowed your brows, flashing him a defiant smile. “And that cherry flavor… you know exactly where you’re playing.”
He lunged at you again, ready to knock you down, when you dodged with a superhuman reflex faster than light itself. Bucky staggered, nearly tripping over his own feet.
“You don’t get it, do you? She’s the only good thing left in me.” He pointed at you, furious eyes burning into you.
“And you still don’t get that you’re the lucky one. Because as long as she turns me down, you’re the guy. You’re the winner, James.” You pointed a finger at his chest, moving closer slowly. “If you don’t want to lose, watch out. Because I don’t play to lose. I take what I want.”
“I’m not afraid of you or your threats, Y/n.” He leaned in close, still tempted to fight.
“Who said anything about fear, James? Besides, fear is subjective. I want you to fear for her.” You whispered, feeling him tremble with rage inside.
