Blabbering
Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Word Count: 1727
Warnings: Fluff, Bucky bein a meanie, shy Bucky, Chatter-mouth reader, near-death experiences, gunshot, big crowds, doctors
A/N: pls don’t translate, copy my work here or on other platforms, yadayada. i hope you enjoy <3
Summary: Reader is speech deprived when she arrives at the tower, so what else is there to do when Bucky hates it so much?
You talk. It’s what you do. No one else in the tower seemed to mind your talking, but Bucky cared, and he cared a lot.
No one actually seemed to listen to what you talked about, but as long as you could talk, you were happy.
Being kept in a muzzle for years on end will do that to you, so you were surprised when you met Bucky. He was so quiet.
“Hello.”
“Hi, I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you!”
Bucky didn’t say anything more, just walked to greet Steve.
So one morning, while you were chatting to Sam—someone who talked as much as you—about nothing in particular, you were stunned to hear Bucky on a phone call.
You really didn’t mean to intrude on his personal matters, but his voice had a certain type of allure to it that you were so fascinated by.
“Uh... can I help you?”
“Right, sorry.” you hadn’t realized that you were staring until then, but when he called you out, you were so embarrassed. A colour red flushed to your cheeks—a blush—that you didn’t even know you were capable of.
You scurried off to your room pretty quickly after that, covering your scolding hot cheeks with your hands, and burying your face into a pillow.
As one can imagine, it was pretty strange going on a mission with Bucky immediately after.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“I didn’t mean to stare earlier. I promise, I really didn’t. I just don’t get to hear you all that often—“
“I said it’s fine.”
“Okay... I really am sorry—“
“Enough talking. It’s all you do.” Bucky was cold in his tone. His harsh words sliced your heart in half like a knife, and even he could sense the pieces falling apart.
You sat silently, staring at your hands, urging them to fix the situation somehow, no matter how impossible.
“Sorry, Sergeant Barnes.” you mumbled under your breath, trying to conceal your tears.
His heart sank to the bottom pit of his stomach. He wanted to chuck himself out of the damn Quinjet. The last thing he wanted was to become the monster he’s always been told he is—especially not to the team’s sunshine.
A few more minutes into the ride, and you’re balling your eyes out silently. You thought you had thick skin, but maybe not. Your tears mostly had to do with the fact that the last time someone told you to shut up, it was Brock Rumlow. It wasn’t something you ever really got used to.
You just wanted this mission to be over. Maybe you’d start avoiding your fellow Hydra rescue. You didn’t know why you irritated him so much, you just knew that you hated that you did.
Bucky felt sick. His stomach was flipping and turning, and with every minuscule movement, he thought he’d hurl on your shoes. Not that he hadn’t already done enough. He learned—not long after his statement—that he loved the sound of your voice. Bucky mistook his feelings about you.
His hate for your positivity, was actually jealousy, admiration, and envy for what he couldn’t find himself to be.
His hate for your talking, was actually hate for the fact that no one truly listened to what you were ever saying.
When he glanced up, he caught you, red-faced, with a heavy heart, and slumped shoulders.
“Please don’t cry.” his meant-to-be soft words came out as a command, and another tear slipped past your eyelashes.
He cleared his throat, trying again, “I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N—“
You knew better than to walk away when someone was talking to you, but you couldn’t help it. As the jet landed, you ran out of the back exit like tigers were chasing you past the guns and metal.
“Wait, Y/N!”
“Y/N, come in, now! I know you’re mad at me, but I have to make sure you’re safe!”
Bucky shouted into his earpiece pointlessly. You were either ignoring Bucky or you forgot to pick up your comms system on your dramatic exit from the Quinjet. “It’s my responsibility! You’re my responsibility!” he yelled angrily into the the stupid little bud.
Ever so conveniently, your piercing, mortified scream sent shockwaves through his system, when he spotted you being held over the top of a building, by just the fabric of your shirt.
His sprint started fast, but by the time he got to the roof, overlooking marketplace tents, he’d slowed to a 4.6 min/mile speed, which is still too fast for the average human.
“Put. Her. Down.” Bucky growled, and you were convinced that small wolf fangs were growing on either side of his top row of teeth. “Fine.”
Death was supposed to be peaceful. You always thought that. So, why did falling off of a building feel anything but freeing? You wanted to shut your eyes, but they were glued to the air-diver, Bucky, jumping off of the building to save you.
Not that he was on time.
“Come on, come on, come on! Talk to me!”
Your legs dangled effortlessly between his body and forearm.
You were sure that you weren’t in shock, but does anyone in shock know that they’re in shock?
Either way, you kept your mouth glued shut, even when you got a feel of Bucky’s soft locks of hair.
You wanted to talk, but for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t.
“Say something!” Bucky shouted, your body flinching at the abrasiveness. “Please... say something.” he cried out, dropping to his knees while he waited for Helen Cho to arrive. “Say something.”
All that came out was a raspy whine, from the point in your chest that was bleeding out. You had at least four broken bones, that you were sure of.
“Bucky—“ you tried to say, but it was just another pitchy whine with no English behind it.
“I-I love when you talk. I love hearing you talk.”
You struggled to muster up thoughts, let alone your own words. You didn’t know what Bucky was doing or saying. You couldn’t do anything,
Maybe falling from that height, and having Bucky catch you, would’ve been fine. It all would’ve been fine, if you hadn’t gotten yourself shot.
Your abdomen burned. It was hard to forget the searing pain of the poison-coated bullet.
“I want you to talk more. I want to talk to you. I-I—“
More. You wanted to hear more. It all stopped.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Everything was blurry. Bucky’s scruff turned into his hair. His metal arm—suddenly there were two.
“Y/N?!” Bucky yelled, but to you it was hardly a whisper.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head, and it smelled of burnt popcorn and chocolate—maybe you imagined that part.
Thud. Thud.
Your heartbeat slowed, crushing your rib bones from the inside out. You turned hypersensitive, but it’s not like you had any say in the matter of touch. Bucky’s metal arm chilled your skin—you thought you were turning purple. But his hot breath on your neck made you want to chuck all of your clothes off like an animal.
Bucky screamed, falling to his knees and crying into your torso. He must’ve thought that you were dead, because the crown of his head was near your chest.
It was all black now. Every sense of sight you had was taken away. It wasn’t all too different for Bucky. There was a constant ringing in his ear that reminded him he would never hear you speak again. He’d never listen to you say “hello” happily at 7 in the morning, while everyone trudged around the room. He’d never hear Tony complain about the absurd amount of cat videos you talked about.
Suddenly, Bucky needed everything back. He couldn’t see straight, he couldn’t get up, he couldn’t keep fighting, he couldn’t stop the cluster of people surrounding you.
“Y/N Y/L/N!” the citizens shouted, whipping out their phones and cameras to capture the moment when the Winter Soldier grasped onto Y/N’s fleeting moments of life. The media had never seen Bucky cry—no one had.
You never liked the cold. It burned up your nose and made you want to cough. The cold was worse than having the wind knocked out of you.
“H-hello?” you croaked out, blinded by a bright hue of white above your head. You didn’t like that either.
“Y/N!”
Bucky was scared to come near you. After spending the last five days in this room, staring at your lifeless body, it was strange to see you awake again. “Thank god you’re okay.”
You didn’t know what to say, in fact, you didn’t want to say anything. Bucky didn’t like hearing you talk, so you’d keep your words to yourself for now.
“Y/N...”
“Your vitals are good.” Dr. Cho gave you a head nod and a smile. “Good morning, Miss. Y/L/N.”
“Good morning.” your voice became slightly more normal again, and Bucky found himself smiling at the sound, pulling your palm to his chest.
“I’ll leave you two.”
“I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it.”
“... It’s okay. I know that I can be a bit much.”
“No. No, don’t talk about yourself that way. I was such a dick, Y/N.”
You stared in disbelief at the apology coming from the super soldier. Bucky had never said more than 15 words in front of you, let alone to you. Yet, here he was spewing everything out like a nervous wreck.
Bucky’s heart raced fanatically, but he had no choice but to at least try and redeem himself.
“I-I wish more people would listen to you, because you’re so smart. Everything you say, it’s perfect, but no one’s listening, and I mean really listening! It pisses me off, but—“
You shut him up by gently pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. At first, his eyes were wide with concern—maybe you were still woozy. But as the kiss went on, he found himself capturing your lips completely with his, enjoying the warm feeling.
“I like it... when you... talk.” he muttered between kisses.
“But I think... I like... this... more.”
