Here's my Masterlist to all my stories 😊 Some of the links will lead you to a Masterlist of the series you're going to read.
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Series
You safe me ❆✪
Y/N and Bucky know each other for a while now but neither of them really knows the other one.
Little heart, much Love ✶
When Bucky gets out of the cryo in Wakanda, hearing that he’s finally free, the first thing he asks about is his child.
Fear ❆✪ - On Hiatus
Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. A job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and the house she always dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.
One-Shots
Make you feel better ➴
Soft Spring Cuddle
Embarrassment
Series
none yet :)
One-Shots
Just a peek ➴
Rough day ➴
Vision
Hurt on a Mission
No Fun
Series
Little Supersoldiers ❆✪
When Steve and Bucky drop to be kids, the Reader is chosen to care for them. She didn’t mind, but the team is always there to help and support.
Soldier Parents ❆
Based on the Little Supersoldiers. Only it’s about how Steve and Bucky deal with Y/N when she is small instead of them.
Fauna’s save heaven ❆✪
Y/N shifts for several reasons. Boredom, hunger, sleepiness, safety, you name it. Sometimes it leads to funny and not-so-funny stories.
Gifting you a new life ❆ - On Hiatus
Steve and Y/N live together in her house for a while now. One day they meet Bucky, a retired soldier, and Y/N is determined to get them together, even when her life gets turned around by her ex-boyfriend.
Therapy ❆✪
When Bucky returned from his service, there were many things different about him. An arm less, metal baggage more. What stays is his loving husband that tries to help him through life again and images he'd rather forget.
Bucky still denies that he needs help.
Steve thinks otherwise. However, he also comes with some issues of his own that he denies in favor of helping his better half out. After dragging Bucky to get a therapy dog, things turn out differently than he first thought.
Summary: Y/N just wanted to help Nesta in the librabry. Okay no, She just wanted to read books to distract her from Azriel being gone on a mission. What she didn't want is a badly injured Shadowsinger returning home, scaring the hell out of the whole Inner Circle.
Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
Word count: 4.7 k
Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds
Masterlist
“You know, you wanted to help me, so you’re supposed to run around, dust covering every inch of your being and carrying heavy books. Not sitting there and reading them.” Nesta’s voice breaks through Y/N’s silent corner, ripping her out of the book she just found and lost herself in. “Huh?” She looks up finding the eldest Acheron sister in front of her, hands stemmed into her hips with a stern expression on her face. Though, Y/N can see the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. “The book. You’re supposed to sort it away and help me out.” As if slow to understand Y/N looks form Nesta to the book in her own hands and frowns until embarrassment washes over her. “Oh, sorry. I got lost… again.” Nesta just sighs dramatically. Her usual snark doesn’t come though. “Okay. I know you offered to help as a distraction from Azriel being gone, but right now, you’re not a big help.”
“Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s alright. I knew it would happen. Isn’t the first time, won’t be the last.” Nesta’s hands drop from her hips and she steps closer, squeezing herself next to Y/N into the small nook she found. “What are you reading anyway?”
“Oh… Its a biography of the Night Court. Pretty much everything that happened in the last… I don’t know how many years, but it’s interesting.” Y/N perks up with a smile but Nesta groans at her answer. “I’ll never understand how you can read such boring things.”
“Hey! It is interesting and I also read the books you recommend to me. It’s just… I like learning new things.” A bit self-conscious Y/N runs her hand over the cover of the book. It’s thick and heavy, bound in a dark leather that has seen better days. There are already stains on it, here and there is the leather a bit broken or roughed up. One corner must have bend backwards at some time. “Whatever.” Nesta scoffs and leans back against the wall. “When’s your mate coming back? Its been like, four weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Y/N sighs, the book lying flat on her lap. “Its been a while since he was gone this long. But he should be back sometime this week. At least Rhys says he’s supposed to be.”
“Heard anything from him?”
“No.” Y/N shakes her head sadly. She can feel a slight burn behind her closed eyes as tears start to well up. She really misses Azriel. When he told her of the mission to Hybern, he hadn’t said anything of the time he’s gonna be gone. He knew Y/N would count every second of the time he would mention and instantly start to worry if he takes longer than he said. And as usual their last day before he left was spent together, with all the things they love doing. Azriel took her to her favorite bakery for breakfast, then took her an a flight over Velaris. They stopped a bit outside the town to enjoy the sun and lie in the grass next to the Sidra and just breathed in the quiet and the company of each other. Back at home they stayed glued to each others hip until they went to bed. Y/N fell asleep cuddled impossibly close to him, knowing that he would be gone when she wakes up.
“He closed the bond so I won’t worry, and he doesn’t get distracted. He always says he can’t open the bond because he would come right home because he misses me too much.” It’s the smallest smile that slips on her face at Azriel’s words. She’s sure he was a bit red around the nose and ears as he confessed it to her, though he keeps denying it. “Hm.” Is all Nesta answers before she stands up again, brushing some of the dust form her skirt. “Well. Get back to your book then, and I’ll finish sorting this stack. Then I force you to training and afterwards we reward ourselves with the nicest dinner ever seen.”
“What, no! I can help!” Y/N is half off her seat as Nesta just lifts a hand to stop her. “You’ll just find another book to loose yourself in… or get lost again. I think I’ll manage. There aren’t that many books le-”
“Y/N!” A booming voice breaks the silence of the library. A few passing priestesses murmur in disapproval as Cassian comes running by, only to slid to a halt and step back as he passes them. “Thank god, there you are!”
“Cassian, you brute, lower your voice. Its a library!” Nesta scolds but something in Cassian’s face lets her straighten instantly. Cassian doesn’t even glance at her, his focus solely on Y/N. “I need you to come with me.”
“Why? Whats wrong?” Y/N now pushes up all the way from her seating position, book in hand and a confused expression on her face. The longer she looks at Cassian and his worried and stressed face, she can feel her heart beating faster then before. “Rhys send me to get you. He’s hurt.”
“Who is hurt? Rhys?” Confused Y/N shakes her head a bit. “I’m not a healer. Feyre would be much better for that.”
“No. Azriel.” Suddenly Y/N feels a cold rush over her that she hasn’t felt in a very long time. “H-he’s…” What does that mean? Azriel comes back hurt more often than not but usually it’s nothing meagerly bad, at least she never needed to be called like that. Usually Azriel comes home exhausted, gives Rhysand a briefing of the outcome, and then gets to the house where Y/N’s most of the time waiting for her. She’d clean up the few cuts and wounds he might have, takes a bath with him and that’s it. But this is big and scary. He’s home, hasn’t reached out, and now she’s told she’s needed. Her thoughts are scrambling from bad to worse versions of how this can go, and how bad it might be. She feels glued to her spot, like a statue, not able to do anything than breathe. Nesta is not though. She steps next to Y/N and takes one of her hands in her own, after discarding the book Y/N still holds. “How bad is it?”
“Honestly? It’s not looking good.” Cassian sighs and runs a hand through his slightly disheveled hair. “I wont get into any details but he has a lot of wounds and his wings…” Cassian stops for a moment, his expression turning sorrowful. Then he shakes his head again with a deep sigh. „He won’t hold still for treatment, though. He’s in pain but all he wants is to go see Y/N, so, I really need you to come with me now.” Unsure and highly overwhelmed she stares at Cassian, before her gaze finds Nesta. She just squeezes Y/N’s hand with a semi reassuring smile. Y/N can see the worry in Nesta’s eyes. “Go on. I’ll finish here and then I’ll join you.” Slowly Y/N feels her body nod before she even can comprehend whats happening and takes the few steps to Cassian before Nesta’s voice chimes again. “Hey.” She waits until Y/N turns around before continuing. “It will be alright, okay?” Y/N stares for a second. Her head suddenly completely empty. It feels as if everything’s filled with static, in her ears she can hear her blood rushing but otherwise everything else sounds muffled. All she can do is nod and follow Cassian blindly, who guides her with a careful hand on her lower back. The warrior looks equal worried and stressed but she notices faintly that he glances her way every few steps on the way.
Finally in Madja’s clinic, Y/N has found some sort of calm in the situation. She follows Cassian’s stride until they reach a closed door. The silence of the walk and the building is disturbed by muffled groaning, a curse here and there and, occasionally, a worrisome growl from behind said door. Even if Y/N wouldn’t know that Azriel’s behind it, she would know now from the sounds. The deep voice is unmistakable, also the small shadow that peeks from under the door is a big hint on what lies behind it. Before she’s really ready to enter, Cassian’s hand lands on the door handle and pushes the polished, slightly damaged wood open to give sight into the chaos behind it.
What Y/N sees traps the breath in her throat, a lump forms, making swallowing difficult. Suddenly she feels cold, her hands clammy and sweat running down her back. Rhy’s stands beside the bed where Azriel’s lying on. The High Lord holds Azriel’s shoulders down, trying to calm and hold the Shadowsinger down as best as he can, but the other male groans and whimpers, his lags trashing lightly, arms trying and failing to push Madja away, who’s trying to tend to one of Azriel’s wings. A sound that’s close to a sob rips from the man and breaks Y/N’s heart. She can hear him muttering silently. It’s too low for her to understand but from what she can hear it sounds like he’s only saying one word again and again. Feyre steps up to him, taking the hand, that’s already bandaged, lightly in hers. “I know, she’s here soon, Az. Cassian went to get her.” Another sound leaves Azriel, close to a whimper. Y/N’s breath stocks, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, too fast to be silent. She’s sure everyone can hear her. In that moment, Madja does something to Azriel’s wing, from what she can see, it looks like she’s dabbing something to disinfect on it. Azriel screams and trashes forcefully, almost pushing Rhys off him. “Hold him down!” Madja backs away while Rhys has to put his full weight on his spy. “No! NO, no no!” Azriel’s scream turns into a sob, seemingly too far gone in his pain. “Y/N! Where’s she? I-I need…” He doesn’t finish as another sob and jerk rip through him. Feyre grips his hand once again, but her head is angled away from him, not able to look this man, that usually is so strong, silent and self-controlled. Not able to look at the man that breaks down in front of her because of pain. Even Rhys looks away but his eyes don’t wander to the wall or Feyre, his gaze wanders to the door where he finally notices her and Cassian. His posture straightens a bit and Y/N thinks she sees him sigh in relief. She takes one last shaky breath but then she pushes past Cassian, who hasn’t said or moved the whole time. “What happened?” Her voice is steadier, calmer, as she feels. It surprises herself. Rhys stems against Azriel once more, who tries to sit up after hearing her voice but gets pushed back down quickly. His energy is leaving him slowly, exhaustion winning. “He got ambushed. They had some weapons made out of ash-wood. His wounds aren’t healing, we think the wood splintered and left some residue in the wounds. Madja needs to clean them, but he won't hold still.”
“Understandable. That hurts like hell.” Cassian mutters from the door as, he too, steps into the room, closing the door behind him. „Y/N…” Azriel’s voice is only a whisper. His eyes had been scrunched shut a second ago but now they’re open. His unfocused gaze flies to her, but he’s unable to really focus. His shadows flick around the room and some of them collect at her feet, seemingly in distress too. Y/N swallows past the lump in her throat and steps up beside Azriel, opposite of Madja to not disturb her work. Gently her hand strokes over Azriel’s cheek. “Hey, Az, it’s me. I’m here.” Her hand trembles lightly as she feels his skin under her fingertips. It’s clammy and white. His usually bright eyes are dulled and glazed over. “Y/N..” His eyes finally find her, able to focus on her face. His body sacks a bit as if he’s relaxing by just seeing her. “Yeah.” She gifts him a shaky smile before she looks to Feyre next to her. The high lord smiles equally shaky but nods encouraging at her before she lets go of Azriel’s hand to make room for Y/N, and steps to Cassian, who’s still by the door, ready to jump in if needed. “Azzie, I need-” A sob of her own threatens to make it’s way as she musters him some more. His face is tear stained and bloodied. There’s a small cut above his eyebrow and along his left cheek. His arms are, thankfully, already bandaged but his chest is still bare with cuts and blood still seeping out of his wounds.
The worst are his wings.
They’re thankfully not shredded but there are cuts and holes littered around the membrane. She knows that the wings are very sensitive. She really doesn’t want to think about the amount of pain her mate must be in. She takes another deep breath before she tries to speak again. “Azzie, I need you to stay still for me, can you do that?”
“Noo.” His eyes close again and he grits his teeth in pain as Madja dabs at another cut. Y/N takes Azriel’s free hand in hers and squeezes it. “Azriel. I’m here but you need to hold still so that Madja can help you.” A rocky breath leaves him and the tiniest nod escapes him together with another whimper. His hand instantly tightens around Y/N’s, squeezing her delicate fingers so hard that they hurt but she decides to not comment on it and just endure it. If Azriel can endure so much pain, she can manage a tight squeeze.
Instead she squeezes back and opens her side of the bond a bit more, letting all the love and affection run through it in hope of bringing more comfort. His body and expression relax once more and before she can think much of it, she leans down to press her lips against his sweaty forehead. “That’s good. I’m here. I love you. You’re safe now.” Her hand stays in his but the other one finds it’s way into his hair to gently comb through it, even as he tenses again in pain. “Y/N- hurts.” His eyes open again, finding hers once more. Y/N can feel her heart breaking. “I know. But Madja’s as fast as she can, Azzie. Just a bit longer.” She smiles a fake smile and looks at Rhys. His face is expressionless but as she watches him closer, she can see the way his lips are pressed to a thin line and his eyes are focused on Azriel. He is extremely worried and pained by the look of one of his brothers in such a state.
Over the next few minutes Y/N tries everything to keep Azriel as calm and still as possible and for most of the time it works. She tells him about her four weeks and what she has been up to, about the recipe she found and wants to try, about Elain’s garden and the books she read. Other than a hum here and a grunt there she doesn’t get much of an answer from her mate, but she doesn’t expects him to.
She just wants to bring him some sort of comfort and seemingly her voice and touch are enough for now. “He’s tiring.” Madja looks up at Rhys as she rounds Azriel’s body to get to the other wing next to Y/N. She had let him rest a bit, instead focusing on his chest and legs which are now bandaged as well. But his left wing is worse, than the right and Y/N can clearly see some wood stuck in it when her gaze grazes it. “W-what does that mean?”
“It means he’s likely to pass out soon. His body is fighting to heal but with the wood it can’t, so he’s loosing blood. The pain he’s in when Madja tends to him doesn’t help either.”
“Can’t we do something against the pain?” Y/N searches Rhys face, cursing herself for not asking earlier, but the High Lord shakes his head. “I could go into his mind but he won’t let me in, I’ve tried already. I don’t want to force him and put more pressure and pain on him.” Rhys eyes wander do Azriel’s, who’s breathing is way to shallow now. “Let’s hope unconsciousness comes fast for him so he can rest.”
Overwhelmed Y/N nods and looks at Azriel. His skin is glistening with sweat and she can see the exhaustion in his face. “Hey.” She lightly dabs a cloth over his face that Feyre gave her a while ago. Sluggishly Azriel’s head rolls to the side so he can see her better, his eyes half lidded. “It’s okay to sleep.” She gives him a smile again, hoping that it doesn’t look as crooked as it feels. “Close your eyes, handsome.” She abandons the cloth and runs her fingers over his cheek once more. “It’s okay.”
“I-I don’ wanna…” His voice is weak and breathy. His eyes close briefly but he opens them with difficulty again. “Go to sleep, Azriel. I’m staying with you.” Y/N squeezes his hand again, just as Madja mutters that she’s starting again. It’s then that Azriel’s body jerks and buckles again with pain before surrendering. From his lightly arched back he falls back on the mattress and stays still then. “A-Az?” for a moment panic surges through her, but Madja’s hand pats her back once. “Its okay, girl. He’s finally getting his rest. You did good.” Madja reassures her, lightly squeezing her shoulder before going back to work on a nasty looking wound.
For a moment Y/N just breathes and stares at the injured man that she loves so much. It’s as Rhys hand comes to rest on her shoulder that the first sob, that she held back for so long, slips out. The second it’s out there’s nothing stopping her. She starts crying and sobbing earnestly. “Y/N…” Rhys voice is soft, overwhelmed, tired and hurting, his hand tightening briefly before he lets go and a slimmer pair of arms come around her. Her head gets softly pulled into a shoulder, hands lightly stroking her hair. From the touch and smell of dust she knows that Nesta has arrived and cradles her to herself now, trying to bring comfort for the time being. “He’s alright. He’s resting and getting better. You did good.” Nesta’s arms tighten again, her chin resting on Y/N’s head.
“You did so good.” Y/N sobs against Nesta’s shoulder, wrapping her own arms around the oldest sister.
It takes a bit longer, than Y/N would like to admit, to calm down. With a last sniff she pushes away from her friend, wiping her face with one of her sleeves before looking around. They’re almost alone in the room now. The others have left and only Madja is still there. She’s now cleaning the smaller wounds on Azriel’s wing, and it looks like it might be only a matter of maybe twenty more minutes. “You okay?”
“Yeah..” Y/N takes a deep breath and releases it shakily. “It’s just…”
“A lot, huh?” Y/N nods and her eyes find her mate on the bed. He’s breathing lighter now, not really looking relaxed but better than before, now that the pain doesn’t numb his brain. “Four weeks of not seeing each other, of no contact and no bond. And then he comes back and is… like this.” She gestures to the male. “I’m not mad at him but… I’m worried. I’m always worried about him but today…” Y/N’s watery eyes find Nesta’s. “He could have not come home at all. He was so close.”
“I know, but we don’t go there, okay? He is back, he’s here and he’s hurt. But alive.”
“What about next time?”
“Next time he will fight just as hard to come back home to you. He can’t promise more than that and you know you can’t ask more than that.” Nesta looks at her with a somewhat stern face. She knows what she’s talking about. It’s not like Cassian doesn’t come home battered and hurt from time to time, too. “We’re a big family and we all do or best. More is just not possible.” Y/N nods, knowing that she’s right but it doesn’t ease her worries. And Nesta knows that too. “Go sit with him, okay? I’ll come back and bring some tea and a book for you.”
“Okay.” Y/N’s voice is weak but she lets Nesta steer her to Azriel’s other side, so Madja has enough room to work. Then Nesta pulls up a chair for Y/N to sit in.
For a while she just watches the healer work, thanks Nesta as she comes back with the promised goods or looks at Azriel just breath.
Slowly her own heart rate calms down and her mind settles. She’s still deeply disturbed by all the bandages but Madja reassures her, before she leaves the room. The male will recover, maybe with a few more scars but no disabilities. It takes her a while longer before she drinks her now cold tea and looses herself in the book Nesta brought. Of course its one of her romance books.
* * *
At first she thinks her mind plays tricks on her but as the groan comes a second time she looks up form her book. She’s almost halfway through and has to admit that it’s really good. Her eyes find Azriel. He’s still lying on the bed, still pale but not as sweaty. She sees his face twitch a bit, eyes squeezing shut a bit more, lips tightening the tiniest bit. Even his fingers twitch sluggishly and his chest rises the smallest hunch faster. The shadows that had rested in the corners of the room come flying to the bed, surrounding the Shadowsinger like little children about to receive the greatest gift. Y/N quickly abandons the book on the floor next to the third cup of tea that Cassian had dropped of not too long ago while checking in on her and his brother.
Y/N sits up a bit straighter and reach for Azriel’s hand. It’s warmer than before, not as clammy but still a bit weak as his grip tightens around hers. “Y/N?” His voice is rough, hoarse and silent, almost like a whisper. His eyes are still closed but he turns his head in her direction, wincing a bit as his muscles pull on his injuries. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“You stayed?”
“I promised, didn’t I? Not gonna leave you alone. Not after this.” She gestures at his bandages only than remembering that he can’t see with his eyes closed. “Mhm.” Azriel hums taking a few more breath’s before he opens his eyes, slowly blinking at the bit of sunlight that comes through the window, although the sun has started setting. “Hi.” Y/N snorts, unsure how to feel.
She’s still incredibly worried about him but also angry for closing off like that. She really want’s to fuss over him, well knowing that he hates it, but she’s also just relived that he’s awake now. “Hey.” Naturally, her free hand runs through his sweaty hair. “How are you feeling?”
“’m okay.” Y/N just raises an eyebrow, not believing what he just said. “It hurts.” Azriel gives in but he smiles a little crooked smile. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah.” Y/N shrugs. “Means you won’t go on any missions for a while and you can’t fight me on fussing over you, also you have to listen to me lecturing you for closing off for so long.”
“Mother, please take me now.” Azriel mutters, closing his eyes but the smile on his lips betrays how he actually feels. They stay in silence for a bit longer, just living in the moment and enjoying each others company. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too.” Azriel winces as he moves, scooting a bit on the bed. “Stop that. Az! What are you doing?” Y/N jumps up, hands hovering uselessly, trying to help but not knowing how. “’m making room.”
“For what?”
“You, obviously.” Y/N blinks at him for a second, no response coming to her mind. “M-me?”
“Yeah. You say cuddling cures your headaches, has to work now, too.” He groans as he shuffles another inch. “I don’t think it works like that.”
“Now it does.” Azriel shrugs but moans in pain right after. His eyes close shut and he takes deep breaths as he breathes through the worst of his pain. “Az, it’s okay. I’ll just stay here, you don-”
“No, I want you here.” He takes a last deep breath before he opens his eyes again to look at her, his arm reaching out a bit to take her hand and tug loosely at it. “Fine.” She sighs and climbs up on the bed as carefully as she can, trying not to hurt him and stopping each time she sees him wince.
Finally she lies beside him. He shut her arguing down pretty quickly as she tried not to rest her head on his shoulder but know she lies there, head on his shoulder, her arm slung around his middle, mindful of the wounds. Azriel harbors a way too satisfied smile on his lips as he presses a kiss against her hair. Suddenly she’s way too conscious about the dirt and dust on her that came from helping Nesta in the library. But Azriel doesn’t seem to mind, so Y/N pushes that insecurity away.
“I’m glad you’re back.” She whispers, her hand idly drawing pattern on his bandage, not sure if he can even feel it. “Me too.” They stay for a while longer like this and Y/N almost thinks Azriel fell asleep again but then his grip on her tightens. “’m not going on any missions for a while. And I won’t shut you out of the bond for so long.”
“Good.” She angles her head to look at him. He’s not looking at her but she can see him thinking. “I was worried about you.”
“I know. Could feel it. You didn’t shut the bond.”
“No. I didn’t.” Then his gaze drifts to hers. His eyes practically boring into hers as if he’s reading her mind. “It got me home. I wasn’t really able to do much after the attack but I could feel you, knew if you were happy, sad, relaxed or angry. And I knew I had to come home to you. So I tried so hard to get free, to get somewhere safe long enough for Rhys to get me.” His grip tightens once more. She knows it must hurt but he seems to ignore it. “You pulled me through it. You’re the reason I’m here.”
“Stop.” Tears gather in her eyes. She doesn’t want to think about what was going on with him while he was attacked or after. She doesn’t want to think about what it took him to return to her, and what she almost lost. Azriel seems to read it off her face because his expression softens. “I love you so much, Y/N. I promise you, I’m always going to do my best to return to you.” A tear slips down hear face and before she’s able to brush it away, Azriel’s hand’s already there, catching it before it can slip too far down. “I love you, too.” That seems to be all Azriel had the energy for. He presses another kiss against her hair, still holding her to his side but his grip loosens significantly. “Go back to sleep.” Y/N whispers pressing a kiss of her own onto his collarbone. Seemingly the only body part not currently wrapped in bandages. “No.” His voice is silent, dripping with exhaustion. “’m enjoying this. Besides Cassian and Rhys are eavesdropping at the door.”
“How does he know that?”
“Shit. The shadows!” Y/N can hear the muffled voices and some scrambling, probably of the two males getting the hell away from the door. Despite the whole situation she laughs and hides her face in Azriel’s chest as he chuckles himself. “They’re terrible.”
“They are.”
“But they care about you a lot, Az.”
“Hm.” Looking back up, she finds Azriel’s eyes closed, expression relaxed and breath already deepening. His eyebrow does a little twitch that Y/N knows well. It always occurs before he’s close to falling asleep and fighting it. “Azzie, go to sleep.”
“No…”
“Yes.” Y/N breathes a giggle. “I’ll nap with you, okay?”
“Yeah?” Azriel settle a bit more, burying his nose back in her hair. “Yeah.”
“’kay.” Y/N doesn’t go to sleep right away despite being tired herself. She stays awake long enough until she’s sure that the male is asleep, before succumbing to her own dreams.
Summary: When Bucky returned from his service, there were many things different about him. An arm less, metal baggage more. What stays is his loving husband that tries to help him through life again and images he'd rather forget.
Bucky still denies that he needs help.
Steve thinks otherwise. However, he also comes with some issues of his own that he denies in favor of helping his better half out. After dragging Bucky to get a therapy dog, things turn out differently than he first thought.
Warnings: Angst, descriptions of injury, Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language
Seven days, eight hours, twenty-five minutes, and forty-nine seconds.
That is exactly how long Y/N’s now living with them. So far, neither of them complained about her, and to her total surprise, she feels welcome and even at home. Silently, on her tiptoes, she opens the door to her bedroom and listens. The house is silent; everyone’s gone to sleep hours ago. It’s the first time she’s back in her human form since she came here. She was cautious not to do it. A few days ago, she dared to shift but didn’t leave her room. Instead, she stepped onto the balcony to look over the neighborhood. Today, though, she has an incredible craving for hot chocolate. With one last deep breath, she levees her room, tiptoeing down the hall, past the master bedroom. She’s almost past the studio as a faint light catches her eyes. She stops walking and looks inside like a deer caught in headlights. Steve’s sitting by his easel, staring at one of his paintings. Y/N can see that he’s not painting. He doesn’t even look like he’s considering his next move. It’s almost like he is looking through his canvas, lost in thoughts, or… he does look quite sad. For a moment, Y/N contemplates walking past the room and completing her mission, but the urge to help Steve out wins. With furrowed brows, she steps closer, stopping in the doorframe, and gently raps her knuckles against the wood. The blonde startles with a gasp, almost toppling from his stool. His head rocks to her, and for a second, she worries about him getting a whiplash. “Y-Y/N! I thought you were asleep.” Now Steve’s the one who looks caught. She smiles at the blonde and shakes her head. “May I come in?”
“Eh… yeah. Yeah, sure.” Steve scrambles a bit to put things away, though this room is relatively tidy, and he only has to put the brush away. Now that Steve’s standing, Y/N can better look at the canvas. From what she sees, it is a beautiful painting of Bucky. So far, Steve has only done the outlining with a pencil, but the perspective is good. She smiles at the blonde then. He blushes a bit and smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Now that Y/N really gets closer, she notices that he looks somewhat sad. “This looks beautiful already, Steve.” Again, the man gives her a small, sad smile. He still seems slightly far away with his thoughts.
A bit of silence fills the room. Y/N is still staring at Steve, and he tries not to meet her gaze. Then he clears his throat, rubbing his neck awkwardly before he speaks up. “You changed.”
“Yeah.” A faint blush now forms on her cheeks, hearing the skin. “I… I wasn’t sure how you would feel if I did, so… I thought you would all be asleep.”
“Sorry.” Y/N instantly notices the guilt and sadness washes over the blonde’s face, and before she knows it, her hand lands on his shoulder. “Steve…” The man looks up at her, maybe slightly startled at the touch. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I want you to know that even if I’m primarily for Bucky, that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you, too, if you need me to. Whatever is up at the moment, know that you can always tell me.” All the man does is nod with a faint smile. She waits for a second for him to give him the chance to open up if he wants to, but the longer he’s silent, the more Y/N knows he’s not ready to talk just yet. “Hey, I was about to make some hot chocolate. What do you think? Are you going to join me? Watch some late-night trash tv?” She doesn’t expect Steve to agree or even to respond, so she’s shocked that he nods after a few seconds of staring at her. “I think… I think that’s a great idea.”
“Cool. I’ll wait downstairs.” She grins, squeezing his shoulder the tiniest bit before swiftly vanishing from the room, figuring that she gives him some time to store away his paints and get his thoughts straight.
Y/N lies on her bed when Bucky sleepily ascends the stairs. Steve’s softly snoring on the couch. Y/N had carefully covered him with a blanket after he fell asleep watching the third episode of some random show before shifting. The brunette instantly hears the soft snore, rubs his eyes, and walks over to the couch. Y/N’s head perks up to look at the scene, watching Bucky sigh sadly before he gently runs his fingers through blonde hair and takes the two mugs from the coffee table. His brows furrow a bit at the second mug and Y/N’s folded clothes next to it. His eyes quickly find her. “Hey, have you kept him company?” Y/N doesn’t dare to bark or make any loud sounds so all she does is let her tongue hang out in a sheepish grin and waggle her tail against the floor. Bucky must have understood though because he grins at her. “Good girl.” Y/N instantly preens at the praise and jumps up to follow after the brunette. She hasn’t treated herself or breakfast just yet, waiting for Bucky to do it.
She stretches into her whole length, feeling the muscles tightening in a delicious stretch. “Come on girl, bet you haven’t had any breakfast yet, right?” Y/N dares to make the smallest whine as she trots over to Bucky, who already put the mugs in the dishwasher and pulled out a fresh one to make some coffee for himself. While the machine gurgles, he fills her food bowl. Two minutes later Y/N snacks her food while Bucky sits at the island and drinks his coffee in comfortable silence. His hand now and then finds her fur and Y/N feels herself being disappointed that she’s not a cat. It feels so good she wants to purr. Since that’s not possible she opts to waggle her tail furiously in pleasure, abandoning her food in favor of licking at whatever skin she can reach from Bucky’s arm. “He had a bad night, you know. Happens more often lately.” Bucky’s voice is silent, sounding as if he’s talking to himself but when Y/N looks up she sees his eyes are already on her. “He thinks I don’t notice but I know he’s slowly drifting away. Sometimes he just sits somewhere, staring ahead. It’s like he’s losing time.” A heavy sigh leaves his lips as his gaze flickers back to the couch. “I don’t know how to help him. He won’t talk to me.” Y/N whines, louder this time and presses her head firmly into his hand. She doesn’t want him sad. It’s a look that doesn’t suit him or Steve. She’s graced with a small smile from the man. “I know, I know. I keep trying but… maybe you could too?” Y/N barks loudly, then startles herself as a loud thump comes from the couch. They both turn to see Steve’s legs and arms flail in a tired mess, entangled in his blanket. Shit, she forgot about him. Bucky just laughs, earning a glare from Steve but the blonde just heaves himself up from the floor to shuffle tiredly over to them. He flops over Bucky’s back, kissing his cheek quickly before closing his eyes again. “Don’t fall asleep on me, punk.” Steve mumbles something that Y/N doesn’t understand but he grabs after Bucky’s mug and takes a sip of black coffee. Y/N watches as the blonde flops next to bucky, head on the island and groaning. “Stevie…” Bucky’s voice is silent, sad even. “Tell me what’s wrong, please.”
“Nothing Buck, just… couldn’t sleep.” The blonde doesn’t even look up. Y/N sees Bucky’s frown, hears his heavy intake of a deep breath. “Okay…” He’s not believing him and Y/N’s pretty sure Steve knows that too. Shaking his head Bucky turns his attention back to Y/N- For a moment he just looks at her, seemingly contemplating on what to say until he finally speaks up. “Hey, Y/N… I, eh, I thought we could go out today?” Not only Y/N perks up at that. Steve lifts his head abruptly, staring wide eyed at his husband. “I though… well you dint bring many clothes and we don’t actually have furniture. I… Never mind.” Instantly Y/N shuffles back up to him, head landing on his lap, together with one of her paws. Steve’s just as face, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder squeezing lightly. “I think it’s a great idea, Buck.” Steve smiles but then frowns again. “We don’t have much money this month, but maybe we could by an actual dresser and some clothes.” Bucky nods, a faint blush on his cheeks. Y/N doesn’t mind, she thinks he looks cute like this and the idea is great. She’d like some stuff to liven up her room.
Nervously she fiddles with the hem of her shirt, walking up and down by her bed. She has to go out. As human. With bucky and Steve. It’s not the fact he’s going outside that makes her nervous but the fact that both men insisted on her being shifted. She feels confused by that. Of course, that all she ever wanted, being able to walk around like she’s a normal person but on the other hand… she was trained to be a therapy animal, trained to help as best as she could but never in human form. And this is big! It’s Bucky wanting to go out to a possible big crowd of people. Shopping malls and furniture stores aren’t the emptiest stores around. If they time it bad there will be hundreds of people around and that alone could throw bucky off. She might not be of help then. They might don’t want her after. A knock on the door startled her out of her own doubts. She takes a deep breath before she walks to the door to open it. She’s greeted with a big smile from Steve. “Hey.” She smiles politely at him, her own nerves still spiraling. “I-” He looks down the hall before slowly pushing into her room, closing the door behind himself. His face is sent into a mask of seriousness and Y/N almost thinks that’s it. He’s going to throw her out now. But instead, Steve surprises her. “I wanted to thank you.” At first, Y/N is reduced to a staring mass but then she slowly starts to notices Steve’s own nervousness. The faint blush on his cheekbones, the twitching of his fingers, the eyes that just won’t meet hers. “Anytime, Steve.” She takes his hands in hers and squeezes gently, smiling as his eyes snap to hers. A goofy grin plays on his lips as if a heavy weight has been lifted from him. It pains Y/N that’s she’s about o destroy that. “Steve, Bucky talked to me.” Steve sobers up immediately, worry now set in hie features. “He knows something is up with you and he knows you think he hasn’t noticed. He's worried because you want talk to him.” She holds on tightly to him as he starts to protest. “I’m not about to guilt trip you or anything. I just- If there’s something you can’t talk with him about, something you don’t know how to address, just know that I’m here. I’m willing to listen, give tips if you like. You just have to say a word, alright?” She gazes into his eyes, hoping for him to see the sincerity she’s working with. He does nod but his words are one of denial. “That’s nice of you but like I told bucky, I’m fine. It’s really not necessary to worry.”
“Okay. But if you ever need someone to talk, you know where I am.” He nods again and leaves without any words as Bucky shouts from downstairs. Did she screw everything up now? For a moment she stares at the spot Steve stood just seconds ago until Bucky’s voice chimes up a second time. “Y/N? Are you ready?”
“Coming!” It might be a long day.
They first head to the furniture store. Y/N hasn’t thought much about what she wants to get so she knows she has to drag the men around the whole store. Probably. The first few minutes they just walk past beds and couches Y/N doesn’t pay much attention to. What she does pay attention to is Bucky’s demeanor. Where he was all excited earlier, he’s now pretty quiet. She can see his eyes flicker through the halls and to passing people. She’s glad that it’s fairly empty today but for Bucky, there are probably still way too many people around. Steve has Bucky’s hand in his all the time, squeezing now and then to ensure him he’s alright. It just gets worse as they finally enter the room for closets and chests of drawer. There are much more people around and Y/N notices that bucky tenses beside her, his gaze turning frantic. She’s not much for feeling his emotions as a human but one glance at him tells her that he’s panicking inside and the event from a week ago is ready to repeat itself. Steve doesn’t seem to notice. He’s off to a sideboard that has piqued his interest for whatever reason so Y/N takes matters into her hand. She grabs Bucky’s cold hand and wraps her fingers softly around them. “You’re alright. They won’t do anything. Come on, let’s go somewhere less crowded.” Buck doesn’t react though he follows her willingly as she quickly walks past people to one corner where fewer people are around. She presses Bucky next to a very big closet and lets him slide down the wall to a sitting position where he hides behind his knees. Y/N sit right in front of him, hands on his arms, slowly stroking her thumb over exposed skin or squeezing lightly when people walk past them. She keeps an eye out for Steve so he won’t walk past them. Bucky’s breathing goes a bit faster as a group of louder people passes them and Y/N is quick to slide in beside him to wrap him in her arms, hoping that the doesn’t mind. Bucky goes rather willingly, clinging to her and hiding in her embrace. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, or rather with whom. “You’re okay, Bucky. No one here will hurt or touch you. It’s just me and Steve who get to be close to you, okay? You’re alright. I promise.”
It takes Steve another twenty minutes to find them. He looks just as stressed as Bucky must feel, but his relief is imminent when he spots them. Though a strange look crosses his features. Bucky’s a crying mess by now and Y/N tries her best to keep him calm and comforted. It would work much better for her if she could have shifted but she can’t possibly do it here. “Y/N, Bucky!” Steve’s by their side in a few strides and crouches down, his hand running soothingly over Bucky’s back. The brunette man whimpers but Y/N’s quick to whisper to him. “It’s alright Bucky. It’s just Steve.”
“’evie?”
“Yeah, Steve.” Just like that the brunette flings himself into Steve’s embrace. Y/N’s left on the floor watching the blonde comfort his husband and somehow it makes her feel like a failure. Sure, she managed to keep him from panicking and that’s what she’s supposed to do but it stings that just a touch from Steve makes Bucky almost relax. She watches for a moment longer before she stands up, brushes the dust from her jeans, and picks up her bag. Her hand softly lands on Steve’s shoulder, carefully watching the passing people that start staring. “Steve, let’s go home.” The blonde looks up briefly and nods, gathering Bucky tighter in his arms he lifts him onto his feet while Y/N figures out the fastest exit.
Ten minutes later they sit in the car, Bucky slumped against the window on the passenger side on his way to sleep. Steve’s staring ahead at the street in deep concentration and all Y/N can do is look at her lap and feel bad.
Summary: Jack has a bad day at work so Robby calls Y/N to come and pick him up.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader
Wordcount: 2.3k
Masterlist
Sitting on the couch and flipping through TV channels has been Y/N’s newest occupation since 4am. She couldn’t go back to sleep after something crashed outside so loud, that she thought her windows would break. Apparently there's a car accident a few streets down and in the silence of the night it sounds like a bomb going off. Now she’s tangled in her coziest throw blanket that she stored at Jacks place, with a mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table and a deep and disappointed sigh as she flips through the same channels for the 7th time with no luck of finding something interesting to watch. Really, she'd settle for the thousandth rerun of her favorite show but no such luck yet. Its almost half past 8am. Jack is still at the hospital, hasn’t called or texted yet, so there’s not really a way of knowing when he’s going to be back. All she knows it that he must be busy if he doesn't has the time to shoot her a quick text.
Sighing she shuts the TV off and throws her head back onto the backrest. “Perfect… just perfect.” She stares for a few seconds at the ceiling before she decides to get up and start to prepare breakfast. If Jack really needs to stay longer at work, he might be too tired to eat anything on himself before crashing in bed.
Opening the fridge she frowns at it’s contents. There’s practically nothing in there that could be used for breakfast. Just some cheese, a beer, water bottles and a yogurt that looks like its been sitting there for weeks now. She quickly grabs it with her fingertips and dumps it straight in the trash.“Wow… How do you survive, Jack?” She can’t even make pancakes from scratch since Jack doesn't own any eggs. The stale cereal in the cupboard won't do, especially not without any milk present. “Shopping it is.”
Twenty minutes later Y/N idles through the grocery store with her cart and a haphazardly written shopping list, though she does impulsively add things here and there to the cart. Cornflakes? Not on the list but in the cart. Chocolate, crackers, coke, canned soup, chips, soda, maybe ice cream… Not on the list but in the cart. She’s almost finished going through the whole list as her phone finally rings. She scrambles to pull it out of her purse hoping for Jack to finally be on his way but stops as she sees that the caller ID is not Jack's name but Robby’s. She frowns shortly, thinking about possibilities why Robby might call her, but decides to just take the call and find out. “Hey, Mike. What’s up.” She wanders down the aisle for the rest of the stuff she needs to get.
“Hey, Y/N.” She can hear the rustling and bustling of the ER in the background. It sounds busy already. Hectic and loud in what she knows is a somewhat controlled chaos. “Can you come in and pick Jack up?”
“Huh? Eh, yeah but why? He drove himself this morning.” Y/N stops to compare some of the bread options before crossing it off the list. She better gets that at the bakery near Jack's place.
“I know, but.. Wait a sec.” She listens to Robby as he talks to a resident before he’s back in their conversation. “Sorry about that. Jack had a rough night. Two vets coding and a little girl with pneumonia that nearly didn’t make it here. I don’t like him driving. He's... Let's say he's not doing so good right now.”
“Shit, yeah.. eh. Can you hold him there for twenty minutes? I’m grocery shopping. Just going to check out real quick and then I’m on my way.” She scrambles already to check the list before rushing through the store to check out.
“Yeah, sure. I need to go, trauma incoming.”
Robby is quick to hang up and Y/N is left standing in the aisle with her phone pressed to her ear. “Shit.” She shoves her phone back into her bag and stares at her cart. She could just let it stay here and go right to the hospital to pick Jack up but something in her twists at the thought of just leaving a full cart standing here for some poor soul to clean up. So she continues to the check out aisle but stops as she sees the protein bars. She grabs some different varieties and some more chocolate bars for the crew to cheer them up a bit. God knows they all need some pick me ups now and then. As fast as she can she goes to pay and load up her car before driving of to pick up her man.
In about 22 Minutes she finally pulls up to the hospital and parks the car near the ambulance bay. She grabs her purse and the bag of goodies for the staff and heads straight in through the ambulance bay. "Hey little miss. Here to pick up the old man?"
"Yeah." She grins at Ahmad and he smiles back. "You know, you're supposed to use the entrance and let yourself get let in from Lupe." Y/N grabs a chocolate bar and hands it to the security guard. "I won't tell if you don't." The man takes the treat at winks at her. "I haven’t seen you." She lets out a tiny laugh and pushes further into the department. Looking around she tries to spot Robby or Jack. Or really anyone she knows. The ED is very busy. Nurses and Residents are bustling around, some even running. People are groaning and crying , far away she can hear someone scream in pain and a child crying. The department is so loud and chaotic in the best organized way possible but she's already overwhelmed from all of it.
“Sweetie, are you here to pick up your man?” Y/N startles as a hand lands on her shoulder. She turns and is greeted with Dana’s charming smile. “Dana.” Y/N sighs at not being alone and lost in the department. She has been here often since she does pick Jack up now and then but she still doesn’t now her way around except to find a bathroom or the nurses station. Quickly she fives the older woman a hug. “Your mans in one of the on call rooms.”
“How is he?” A slightly worried gaze graces Dana’s face as her eyes drift into the direction Jacks room must be in. “Rough shape. Haven’t seen him this silent in a while. I’m sure he’s glad to see you though.”
“Okay, eh.. here. I brought some pick me ups for you guys.” Y/N passes the bag over to Dana who takes it with a big grin. “You didn’t have to.” All Y/N does is shrug before she looks around again. She sees Trinity and Dennis arguing at one of the computers and Princess hurrying through a corridor before vanishing. “Come on, honey. I’ll get you to your man.” Y/N follows her through the hub, dodging a wheelchair and some people before she finally stops in front of a door. Dana squeezes her hand, murmuring a ‘good luck’ and hurries off to put the food into the break room.
Y/N knocks carefully and pushes the door open to slip inside. The room is relatively dark, a small bedside lamp is on and on the bed she can see Jack lying on his back, one hand resting on his stomach, the other one draped over his eyes. His scrubs look wrinkled from a busy night shift and on his shoes she can spot tiny flecks of red in the dim light. He’s lying still but Y/N can see that he’s not asleep. His chest rises too fast for that and his posture looks too tight and stiff. “Jack?” She pushes further in and closes the door behind herself to shut the sounds of the ER out. She feels herself relaxed a bit as silence finally envelops her again. There's only the faint sounds of people talking as a background noise. Slowly she inches forward to the bed and sits on it’s edge next to Jack's hip, angling herself to have a better look at him. Carefully she runs one hand through his hair. “Hey.” The only reaction she gets from the man is a deep sigh at her contact and the hand on his stomach wandering to find her other hand that has rested next to him on the really stiff and hard mattress. How can anybody sleep on that and be fit for work without a broken back?
Jack pulls her hand close, presses a soft kiss against her knuckles and murmurs a tired greeting back.
Y/N sits in silence for a moment, just running her hand continually through his hair and now and then squeezing Jacks hand. She can see that his posture relaxes a little bit at her contact. She’s not really sure what to ask though. Asking him if he’s alright would be stupid. Of course he’s not. And asking what he need usually end with him shrugging. After a while she settle for an entirely different question. “Where you on the roof?” Jack takes a few more breaths before his arm slowly slips from his eyes to lie over his head so that he can look at her. “Yeah. Robby came up though. Please, shoot me if i ever end up as his patient. His bedside manner sucks.”
“Hmm.” Y/N snorts a small laugh. "He's bad, i know." A few second more silence fills the room. But know that Jack has lowered his arm she can see his face better. He does look tired, with shadows under his eyes. But there’s a tightness to his features that would have let her know anyway that he had a bad shift. His eyes just look dull and his mouth lack the soft curve. “Sunrise was good?” For a moment Jack just stares before a small laugh startles out of him. “Yeah, not as beautiful as last week though.”
“Why’s that?” Y/N knows which sunrise he means. They had a small vacation last weekend, went to a cabin not too far away, but quiet enough to relax. Jack had woken her up at an ungodly hour. It made her grumble and utter word her grandpa would have thrown his slipper at her. But it all was worth it after he had her wrapped like a burrito with a cup of tea on the porch swing. It had earned him a good amount of kisses and some sexy time in the shower.
Jack just shrugs lazily. “You were not there.” He grins a little crooked at her. It's not really reaching his eyes but he looks a bit more at ease. “Sap.” Y/N slaps him lightly on the chest earning a wounded sound from the man on the bed. They gaze at each other for a bit more before Y/N squeezes his hand again. “You ready to go home? Thought we eat breakfast and then go to bed and watch a movie until we fall asleep.”
"You haven't been sleeping?" Y/N shakes her head. "Been awake since four." Jack frowns at her and she can see the moment he's starting to muster and analyze her. "So.. you ready?"
“Hmm, in a minute." He's still looks at her a bit too intense but then he smiles again. "Lie down with me for a bit?"
“Here? Don’t we need to vacate the room or something?”
“Nah, ‘s alright. Nobody's time to lie down anyway. Come on.” He scoots to the side a bit, making room for her to lie down beside him and carefully tugs on her hand to come closer. Y/N surrenders and lies down beside him, lets herself get pulled closer to his side again. She hugs him around the middle, her head resting on his shoulder. Y/N watches Jacks profile for a bit, looking for signs of anymore distress but it seems that he’s slowly relaxing again even more now since she's closer. His eyes are closed again. “You wanna talk about today?”
“No…” His voice is silent, sounding a bit pained so Y/N doesn’t push it further. He knows he can always talk to her or his therapist. So she waits until Jack is ready. He pulls her a little closer so shes flush against his side with no space between them whatsoever. His fingers idly glide over her arm, drawing a random pattern.
Maybe it's been 5 minutes maybe half an hour but at some point Jack sighs and looks at her with a grin, that finally looks like a typical sarcastic Jack. “Should hire you. You do wonders to a mind at this place.”
“Yeah?” She snorts lightly, grinning up at him. “You ready to share with the rest of the Pitt?”
“Hell, no! You’re just for me. Maybe Dana.” He shudders. “I’m afraid of her.” That makes Y/N laugh loudly. She presses a kiss against Jacks cheek but before she can really pull away he stops her. “You missed.”
“Huh?” For a second she stares but then Jack smirks and taps his lips. “You missed.”
“Okay, lover boy. One kiss and then we get going. I have grocery’s in the car and I’m sure you need to get this Prosthesis off.”
“Deal.” So she presses another kiss on his lips this time. Jacks hands instantly find her body, one on her hip, the other in her hair.
Its fair to say they didn’t leave the room after just a kiss but nearly 10 minutes later after a round of making out and giggling like schoolgirls. But at least Jack's doing better for the moment, though Y/N's sure he'll call his therapist as soon as he's awake in the afternoon.
Summary: Azriel comes home late, but sleep doesn't come easily.
Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
Word count: 920 words
Masterlist
You’re deep asleep, body lax on the bed, legs tangled hopelessly into the sheets. You’re half on your stomach, half on your side, one arm under your pillow, the other one hanging loosely down on the side of the bed, hand almost reaching the floor. The second you wake up it happens slowly. At first there’s nothing particular but as you stir you hear a silent ruffle, then a small clank and some cursing as something clatters loudly. It’s not that loud but in the silence of the night it’s enough to bring your consciousness back to the surface. You don’t move though. You listen silently at more rustling and silent grunts, your eyes still closed until the mattress dips. A careful hand slowly slips around your middle as the body lies down behind you, carefully pulling you the tiniest bit closer. A soft kiss is pressed against you’re shoulder and an exhausted sigh leaves the male. “You’re home.” Your voice is silent but thick with sleep. Though, it doesn’t lack the affection that you feel and send down the bond. You scoot back a bit more until your back is flush with Azriel’s chest, the hand hanging from the bed coming up to touch his own that’s resting on your stomach, while he presses his forehead against your neck. “Yeah.” His voice is just a breathy answer. “Didn’t wanna wake you, sorry.”
“You didn’t.” Slowly you open your eyes, blinking the sleep away. The rooms still dark and behind the drawn curtains you can have a glimpse at the night sky. So it’s still late in the night and not early morning. It happens a lot lately that Azriel comes home so late that you could call it early again. Slowly you turn around to face him, though Azriel tightens his hold on you with a silent grumble. “Let me see you.” You giggle a bit and finally manage to turn in his strong hold. Now that you’re able to see him you notice the tired expression and the shadows under his eyes. He doesn’t only look tired, he looks exhausted. The lack of sleep the last few days shows. Even his shadows swivel around sluggishly like, they too, are deeply exhausted. Your hand comes up to slowly stroke his cheek. “Hey.”
“Hm.” A tired smile graces his lips as his eyes roam over her face. “You okay?” Your voice is not more than a whisper in the silent night. “Yeah.”
“Yeah? You look so tired, Az. Rhys giving you trouble?” Azriel snorts and places a lazy kiss against her forehead. “When’s he not?”
“Fair.” You grin up at him, your hand gliding to his back where you idly draw random pattern on his naked skin. A few times your hand glides a bit close to the base of his wings, eliciting small sharp air intakes from the male. He still pulls you a bit closer. His eyes closing. You press a kiss against his collarbone, before you close your own eyes. You two lie in silence for a while, though you quickly notice that he’s not relaxing as he usually does. He’s still a bit tense. “Can’t sleep?” You angle your head back a bit to have a better look at him. His eyes are still closed but his face is still somewhat frowning. “my head wont shut off.” You purse your lips, knowing that its also an occurrence of the last few days. “I talk to Rhys tomorrow, make him give you a few days off to recharge.”
“Don’t need to recharge.”
“Yeah, you do.” Slowly you draw your hand back to yourself and push out of his embrace. It’s not often that you hear Azriel whine like this, but his exhaustion seems to have disabled any filter he might have. “no. Where you going?” A laugh startles out of you as you scoot up a bit so you’re not totally flat on the bed. “Nowhere, just getting more comfortable.” What you see next on his face as he opens his eyes makes you laugh even harder. “Oh my… Are you pouting?”
“I don’t pout..”
“No, no! You do!” Azriel’s grumble something silently that you can’t really understands but he scoots closer to you all while doing so, pressing his face into your rips. “No, Azzie. Not down there, wait a sec…. Now.” You adjust yourself slightly, so you’re a bit more probed up on your pillow, then you help Azriel guide up until he lies comfortably with his head on your chest, your legs intertwined with his. His arms come around you as a tired but pleased sigh leaves him and his eyes slip closed. One of your hands lies on his upper arm while the other one gently strokes through his black hair that lies rather flat on his head. You use the tiniest bit of pressure while stroking and massaging which earns you a silent moan from him. “This is nice.”
“Yeah?” You giggle again, jostling him a bit. “Think you can sleep now?” You wait for a reply but there’s none. “Az?” You stretch your neck a bit to look into his face but Azriel’s expression is neutral, relaxed, mouth hanging slightly open as he breathes deeply in his sleep. “Okay, that was fast. Goodnight, handsome.” You press a small kiss on his hair and continue stroking it until you yourself slip back into the arms off restful sleep, comforted by the wight and warmth of your mate. You’re defiantly talking to Rhysand in the morning!
Summary: When Bucky returned from his service, there were many things different about him. An arm less, metal baggage more. What stays is his loving husband that tries to help him through life again and images he'd rather forget
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2.4k
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
The first three days after Y/N moves in go by relatively unexcited.
Bucky lounges around, giving her the space she needs to get accustomed to her surroundings. Nonetheless, she stays as a dog, not really daring to change to her human form despite the man knowing who she is. She doesn’t dare to change at night as well. Uncertain Bucky might need her. Though up until now, he seems fine. No episodes, no panic attacks, no night terrors. At least Y/N didn’t catch any of the typical signs so far. Throughout the days’ Bucky seems okay as well, if not a tiny bit clingy. He stays close to Steve, trailing behind him if the blonde leaves the room or calls Y/N over to lie with him.
So, she settles for focusing a bit more on the daily habits the two men have. Bucky seems fairly comfortable lying around and reading books, strolling around in the garden, or just… doing nothing if Steve’s not around. The blonde man leaves every day for his run, returning an hour later to shower only to vanish for work again.
Sometimes he’s gone for a couple of hours, and sometimes he’s back after just ninety minutes. He always comes home slightly exhausted looking, and Y/N can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right with Steve. Something is off, but so far, she can’t really pinpoint what it is.
When Steve’s home though he always walks up to Bucky, kissing and hugging him, whispering things into his ear that make the brunette smile and duck bashfully. They seem to love each other really deeply. Y/N sometimes catches them cuddling on the couch or in bed, one of them sneaking behind the other to circle him in his arms and kiss him. She has to admit that she likes seeing it. The picture of Bucky gets a different shine to it. He isn’t only closed off and silent. No, sometimes he is ecstatic and happy. Y/N finds that she likes him most when he’s harboring all these cute smiles that linger on his lips. He is genuinely happy then, and Steve seems more relaxed as well.
Today Y/N’s running around again, sniffing at her usual spots. You never know if someone broke in and touched them or if something changed. So far, everything’s fine. She notices the spots Bucky’s in more than Steve, his smell slightly different.
Y/N spots Steve in the hallway and quickly runs up to him. She tilts her head, a bit curious about what he’s doing, so she decides to follow him for a while. He’s drawing, washing the dishes, washing laundry, sketching, changing the sheets… Every few minutes, she runs back to Bucky, inspecting his form on the couch. He’s still lying there, reading his book. His eyes always slip back to her, and he smiles and pats her. She sees some uncertainty in Bucky’s eyes, but that’s to be expected, especially with his clinginess. Maybe he misses cuddling with Steve? They haven’t done it today.
Back in Steve’s art studio, she lies down beside him, watching him paint a bit longer. “Hey, you.” Steve smiles down at her, his hands coming up to her head, ruffling her fur. Her tongue lolls out, just as Bucky enters. He doesn’t say anything but instantly walks over to the small couch in the corner of the room to lie down, facing them with a throw blanket above himself. He gets comfortable and opens his book again, continuing where he stopped. Y/N stands back up, stretches to her full length with a yawn, and walks to Bucky. She sits down and licks a few times over his bare arm before rolling to a small fluff ball next to the couch on the ground. Unintentionally her eyes fall shut, and she slips into a light slumber to the faint sound of Steve’s brush against the canvas.
Around noon Bucky lifts himself from the couch, brushing his hand softly over Y/N’s head. She rouses slowly, blinking sleepily at Bucky’s smiling face. “Hey. Do you want to go for a walk?” Instantly Y/N’s wide awake. After all, she’s just a dog right now, and ‘walk’ is one of her favorite words after ‘cuddle’ and ‘food.’
Bucky laughs lightly, clapping his hands. “All right, pretty girl. Come on.” He walks past Steve but stops then, clapping his hand on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Are you coming with us?”
“Sure. Let me just finish this section, and I’ll be downstairs with you.”
Y/N runs down and up the stairs, making Bucky stumble more than once, but the brunette takes it lightly, laughing the whole way to the entrance door. “All right, all right. Calm down.” He grins at her, taking her harness from a hook and holding it out for Y/N to step in, which she quickly does. It takes a few more minutes until Steve joins them, and they finally get going. They don’t go far from the house though, but Y/N doesn’t mind. It helps her to get a better picture of the neighborhood. She tries to memorize as much as she can, though she has time to do so, knowing they will walk around here a lot. While Y/N busies herself with sniffing around she listens to Steve and Bucky talk about their weekend plan, which is kind of boring to her since the weekend is still two days away.
The day ends with dinner and a movie which sends Y/N to sleep almost halfway in. So far, everything seems okay; nothing is off. She can picture living with them like this, though there were families and times when she thought that too but still got returned. It has a bitter taste to all the calmness.
* * *
It's deep in the night. The house is black, shadows forming creepy creatures in her room, though that’s not what’s waking her. There are sounds.
Grunts and whimpers.
Y/N’s instinct kicks in, and she’s out of her door in seconds, rushing through the hallway to stop in front of Bucky’s door but hesitates to enter. Should she just barge in? Steve’s with him, and he will take care of any distress Bucky might have, right?
For a moment, she stands there, staring at the half-closed door. Another whimper reaches her ears. Isn’t Steve in there? Didn’t he wake from the sounds?
She looks around, catching the dim shimmer of light under the door to Steve’s art studio. Is he in there drawing again? Another grunt reaches her ears. Her instinct tells her to walk into the room as quickly as she can, so she does.
Slowly her nose nudges the door further open so she can slip in. The room is dark, but Y/N can make out the figure that’s lying on the mattress. The blankets are pushed to his feet, his head turning and tossing a bit. The whole room reeks of sweat, distress, and fear. What startles her, though, is the fact that Bucky seems to be the only one in bed. Steve really is nowhere to be seen, and she has half a mind to go to his studio to get him. Why would he leave his struggling husband alone in the middle of the night?
Quickly, Y/N rushes to the bed, jumps onto it, hoping not to startle the brunette awake and frighten him even more. Slowly she walks forward, closer to his face, lies and sniffs carefully. Whatever dream Bucky has is bad. His forehead is slightly glistening, and his clothes seem drenched. Her nose presses against Bucky’s hand and cheek, soft whines leaving her. It’s not loud enough to wake the brunette, but thankfully he reacts, nonetheless. His hands flex sluggishly; he turns a bit with a few more whimpers, and his arms sling around her body. He’s pretty strong for a sleeping man.
Y/N whines silently for a bit, hoping to rouse the brunette enough to get him out of his nightmare. It takes a bit more time. Bucky’s hands fist into her fur and his face hides in her belly but eventually, he calms down, still wrapped up around her. Instead of falling asleep herself, she stays awake for a while longer, watching the sleeping brunette for any other signs of distress. She notices some tear tracks on his cheeks and exhaustion in his face. It almost looks like he’s been awake for days. It makes her think back. Was he sleeping since she came to life here? He went to bed with Steve, right?
The creak of a door lets her look up. Soft light filters into the room and the silhouette of a man stands at the door. Y/N perks up a bit looking Steve’s way but she is surprised by the look on his shadowed face. It’s a neutral expression, his eyes seemingly focused on her rather than his husband. She knows these looks, has seen them way too often. Though there is something resembling sadness in his eyes as well. The blonde doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he turns around and vanishes back into his art studio, taking all the light with him. Y/N stays where she is, staring at the door.
* * *
The next morning, Bucky is pretty clingy. He hasn’t shown any sign of wonderment that Y/N was in bed with him, but his husband wasn’t. Instead, he never leaves her side and when Steve enters the room, he’s quick to rush to the blonde and cling to him. Steve soothes him rubbing his back and pressing kisses to his head. Y/N notices the sadness in Steve’s gaze and the exhaustion in his features. It looks a bit like he hasn’t been sleeping good either.
Throughout the day Y/N notices that Steve’s keeping his distance from her, never coming close enough to Bucky when she’s right beside him. Bucky seems off enough that he doesn’t notice that much but to Y/N it is apparent. Both men talk less than before, they don’t go on an actual walk, just let Y/N out into the garden. She doesn’t mind, knowing Bucky isn’t up for a long walk. Back in the living room, she trots to her bed, still watching the man but not daring to come close to give Steve a sign that he’s the one in charge of Bucky. Hoping that this will get him off of her back. She doesn’t want to fight him on anything. Not his place in the house, not his husband, and not his position as the main caretaker. She’s simply here to help him out. Though the longer she pays attention to Steve she notices that something’s not quite right with him either. When the night rolls around, Steve orders dinner, and they put on a movie and cuddle on the couch.
Y/N keeps her distance, hoping to not pour oil in troubled water. Bucky glances at her now and then, but she’s quick to shut her eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping that Bucky doesn’t catch her glimpse. When Bucky gets up and kisses his husband good night with the silent prayer to not take too long, she stays on her bed, letting Bucky pat her. Only when he’s gone does she open her eyes and lift her head. Steve’s not looking at her. Instead, he’s staring at the black TV screen. The look in his eyes seems far off, almost like Bucky’s the day Y/N helped him out. Steve shakes himself out of his daze after a few minutes. He heaves a deep sigh, his head landing in his hands as he hunches over. Some bells ring in Y/N’s head, the need to comfort grows, but she doesn’t move, not sure if Steve actually wants her to help him. Instead, she stays put, watching him stand up and leave the room, shutting the light off.
She stays put for a few minutes longer, then slowly strolls after the blonde. The door to their bedroom is shut and Y/N has the feeling Steve did it to keep her out. Sighing she walks to her room, jumping on the bed, and rolling into a ball. Her gaze is fixed on the window, staring at the stars and the dark sky outside. For a moment, she contemplates what to do next. She could just lie down and go to sleep or wander the house again, like a late night security check. But she also could change. Her skin feels itchy, ready to be something else for a while, but her mind is still set on protecting and helping, paired with the uncertainty of what might happen, when she changes. Though, she’d like to use the chance to go out on the balcony and look at all the pretty stares. For just a few more seconds she looks around her room, a yawn slipping past her but then she sighs. Lets just do it.
Taking her chance to shift, since Steve’s with Bucky, she does so, slipping into the burrowed clothes from the men that Steve had given her the day of her arrival. She opens the door and steps onto the balcony, careful to still be able to hear any sign of distress from Steve and Bucky’s room. Looking up at the sky again, she thinks about Steve. He is acting off, not only with the looks that he sends Y/N but in general. The first time she met him, he seemed happy, all lively, but now that she lives with them, she sees him more and more with sad looks. Always though when Bucky’s not around or not looking. He’s not sleeping that much, not napping with Bucky, and always keeping busy. Could it be that he…? Shaking her head, she dismisses the thought, though she wants to keep just as close an eye on the blond as she has on her actual person.
I'm taking a few weeks off from writing to sort some private stuff. I'll try to get as many chapters done as I can, so when I'm back I fave lots to upload.
Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 2k
Warnings: mentions of blood, cursing
Series Masterlist // Masterlist
Bucky lies there for a while and watches Y/N fall deeper and deeper into a sleep her body and mind desperately need. His hands unconsciously draw some motions on her back and arms, soothing her deeper into sleep and calming his own mind. It’s an act where he doesn't need to think. He’s just doing it.
At some point, his right leg starts to tingle uncomfortably before getting numb. Y/N’s lying on it, and though he doesn't dare to say she’s heavy, his leg deems to disagree. He swallows a few times, fighting against the urge to move his leg, but the fight is lost quickly. Barely five minutes later, he’s as careful as he can while he slowly slips out from under her. He tries his best not to shake her too much, and he manages to get his lower half out. The most difficult part is getting Y/N’s torso and head from his own chest, without waking her up. He freezes and looks at her in terror as she whines a bit just as she shifts away. He holds his breath for a second, prying that she gets right back to sleep, even his fingers are crossed. Y/N sighs and turns, her face now squished into the backrest. Relieved, he exhales, the trapped air, eyes closed. For a second, he contemplates kissing her head or stroking her hair, but then he argues that he doesn't want to wake her up in the first place, and he might do if he does something like that.
So, he shifts away silently and trudges into the kitchen. Once there, he fills the coffee machine with water and powder and yawns as he turns it on.He lanes back a bit to look into the living room, but all he’s able to see is one of Y/N’s naked feet that lies on the armrest, slipped out of the blanket.
On quiet soles, he slips back out of the kitchen, leaving the machine doing its job. He quietly slips past the converted bed and into the hall, up the stairs. He stops just in front of his study. For a moment, his eyes remain on the darkened brownish spot on the carpet. Almost everything is still dirty. The curtain rod and curtains have been removed for evidence, just as the cadaver of the dog ends everything else. Just the dried blood is still there. According to the pathologist, the dog was still alive when it was killed. Bucky kneads his lower lip with a shudder.
The question of how one had gotten such a large animal quietly into his house, while three people were present (one of whom was running through the whole house), never escapes his mind. It’s in a constant loop, together with a couple of other questions. Where the hell had he been hiding the dog? Where was he hiding? Is that the same person who writes the letters?
By now, he has a suspicion that the guy, whoever he is, could either make himself invisible or have been in the house the whole time. The only room they hadn't searched was the bedroom since Bucky was in there the moment, they entered the house. And if that was the case, then it's eating harder at him. He could've found the fucker and put him away, or he... or the guy could've easily overpowered him and could’ve done who knows what to him or Y/N.
He hopes that his team finds out where the guy had been hiding, and hopefully, they even find evidence of who he might be. They had taken some fingerprints off the door from their closet; in the hope they weren’t his or Y/N’s. All he has to do now is wait. This is deeply personal. Another question pops into his head. If this guy is the one who writes the letter and had been hiding in his house, in his study, he might have left something for him to find.
Bucky walks to his desk chair and presses a few buttons on his keyboard. The computer was still on. No one had bothered shutting it off after discovering the dog. He himself was too occupied to care for Y/N even to waste a thought of something like that. “What the hell were you doing here, Y/N? You usually don’t go in here.” Especially since she has most of her things in her office next door. Though Bucky must remind himself that she has done most of her work together with him in his office for the last couple of weeks. He has so much to do with his cases that they almost never see each other. So maybe it’s not that unusual for her to be here.
He looks at his computer, but it seems that Y/N hasn’t come far as it seems. He still needs to enter his password, and even after doing that, he’s greeted by his usual desktop. A picture of Y/N as she sits on the windowsill of her old apartment with a messy bun, a textbook on her lap, and chewing on a pencil. The light from outside is framing her beautifully. A small smile forms on his lips as he remembers the days he came to visit her, only to find her studying and not paying attention to him at all. Not that he minded. He likes watching her getting in a zone; even now, it's one of his favorite things to do.
Frowning, he looks around, trying to find anything unusual, but everything is as it's supposed to be. His gaze wanders from the keyboard, across the tabletop, and then stops at one of the four drawers, on the right side under his desk.
Each of these drawers has a lock, which is normal for a simple secretary, but only this one, the top one, is locked. He pulls a small key out from under the tabletop. For years he had been accustomed to hiding it with tape in a small niche at the bottom. He puts the key in the lock and opens it. When he pulls the drawer open, he’s greeted with the sight of several letters. He stares at them in disgust. He had shown them to Sam, and Sam had looked at them with concern. If it had been up to his colleague, those letters would have ended up with his boss, because they weren't joking letters to him. Sam has the suspicion that whoever sends them is ready to do way worse than just writing insults on his car.
Bucky, however, did not believe that someone was after him. For him, it had always been the pranks of young people. But now, he thinks differently. Slowly he flips through the letters and starts thinking. It's not the first time I've been confronted with threats, but these letters are different. They are personal, but not very detailed. They leave to doubt that the sender is very serious. I wonder who's behind all this. Is it someone I know? A criminal I arrested? Or maybe someone who feels unfairly treated by me?
He absentmindedly flips through the letters again, reading one before shoving them back into the drawer. “Your days are counted. There’s only one who wins, and it won’t be you. Appreciate what you have as long as you can.” Bucky scoffs and shakes his head. “Asshole.”
Disgusted, he’s about to shove the drawer shut when something catches his gaze. There, just between the side panel and the second drawer, is a piece of paper. It looks stuck, but with a small tug, Bucky manages to get it out. It almost looks like someone just shoved it here because he was too lazy to open the drawer. But the only one who could have done that was Bucky. Or Y/N. He turns the paper to look at it from all angles. It’s an envelope, closed but with nothing written on it. He grabs his letter opener from his organizer and rips the top open carefully not to destroy possible evidence. An unsettling feeling grows in his stomach as he pulls the letter out and folds it open to read.
Your days as a cop are over. We have set our eyes on you, and we will destroy you. You'll regret ever turning against us. Your family will suffer just as you deserve.
Bucky’s eyes flicker over it again and again until it registers. This is a letter, and it is different. Shorter, threatening. Worse even, it's been delivered right to his house. He throws the piece of paper to the others and slams the drawer shut with a shout. “You son of a bitch! Damn it!” Angrily, he slaps his hand flat down on the surface of his desk. A loud bang echoes through the room.Pain shoots through his hand. He looks down and notices the red pool forming on his palm. He had slapped his hand directly on the letter opener, and it sliced part of his hand open. “Fuck. Shit!” A beeping sound announces that the coffee machine finished brewing, but his focus lies on his bleeding now. Under more curses, he leaves the room to rush into their bedroom and straight into the bathroom. He rips the medicine cabinet open, pulls the first aid kit out, and rummages through it until he finally comes up with some gauze. His hand continues bleeding, steadily dripping red into the porcelain of the sink.
The gauze slips from his hand, and in his uncoordinated attempt to catch it, he slams his uninjured hand against the shelf under the medicine cabinet and knocks his deodorant and a few other utensils off. They clatter to the ground with a deafening loud crash that resounds from the walls. Bucky closes his eyes tightly, and curses, hoping that he didn’t wake Y/N up. “Fucking shit!” He bends down, picks up the gauze bandages, and quickly wraps it around his hand as tight as he can to at least attempt to stop the bleeding. He might need to wake Y/N after all if it doesn’t stop. With a sigh, he looks at the mess he made but decides to ignore it for now. Back in his office, he glares at the offending object that still has some blood on it and grabs his work phone from its loading station. If this asshole is now not only threatening him but his family, Y/N, he has to get her away.
The cigarette squeezes itself into the overflowing ashtray full of half-smoked cigarettes and cigar stumps. Heavily sighing echoes through the room. He should have stopped when he had the chance. But now he is under so much stress that it’s impossible. He turns away from the smoldering heap and turns to his phone, which takes his last nerve one of these days. Why don’t they hang up? How annoying. With another exhausted sigh, he picks up and takes the call. “Yes,” he growls, annoyed. He has too much paperwork to do and doesn’t really have time or willpower for any sort of call.
“Hello, Steve. This is Bucky.” He rolls his eyes, his irritation only growing. Well, that's just great. Especially when you think it can’t be worse. “Okay. What’s up?” No, he definitely doesn't want to talk to his soon-to-be brother-in-law.
“Steve, I-I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to-”
“Uh-huh.” Steve grunts, eyes flicking back to his laptop and folders in front of it. Would it be rude to just hang up on him?
“You have to do me a favor.”
“Hmm. Do I?”
"Please. It's about your sister. I told you about the letters because Sam made me, remember?"
“Yes. What about it?”
“Well, they weren’t the only thing that happened. Three days ago, my car was painted red with some… not so nice scribbling.”
“White looked ugly anyway.” Seriously, Steve has a few other things he would like to say, but he bites his tongue. Even if he doesn’t like Bucky that much right now, he notices that he sounds kinda off. “Thank you very much.” Bucky doesn’t sound as annoyed as Steve would expect. Usually, they are constantly bickering. “Anyway, that wasn’t everything. Y/N came home last night from her trip. She called me early in the morning in a panic. She said she felt like someone was in the house. When Sam and I drove to her house, we couldn’t find anyone. We thought it was a false alarm until Sam found something in our garden. It was a dead cat or a raccoon. It’s had been fur pulled off, and it’s limbs severed.”
“Gross. Does Y/N know about this?”
“Fortunately, not much. She was too preoccupied to calm down further from a panic attack, and I was quick enough to shield her from view. But shortly after, she discovered a dead dog in my study. The organs were scattered on the floor, and his limbs were missing too. The animal was killed on the spot, the coroner said.”
“Wait a minute,” Steve stands up in his chair, blood running cold and thoughts spinning. “Will you just tell me she found the dog? Slaughtered in your study while you all were there?”
“Yes.” Bucky sighs through the line, and Steve starts pacing around his table, tempted to light another cigarette. “And how can that be? Didn’t you just say there was nothing in the house?”
“As far as we could see, there was nothing. We couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t broken in, and the doors were all locked when I arrived.”
“Barnes, I swear to you, I’ll turn your neck the next time I see you. I reluctantly confided in you dating my sister. AND YOU CAN’T EVEN TAKE CARE OF HER?” His blood is boiling with anger. He loves his little sister more than anything, except his wife and his girls. And after what happened to their parents, he took care of her and only reluctantly shared her with Bucky. His instinct to protect her was and still is so great that he sometimes feels it to be impossible just to let her do her thing. He'd do anything to protect her. And now Bucky isn't paying attention, isn't able to protect her. Apart from the fact that he is obviously incapable of keeping promises to her, he can’t even take care of her as a policeman. As some sort of job. Scornfully, he snorts into the phone. “If she didn’t love you so much, I would have advised her against moving in with you.” There’s a short silence, and Steve knows he struck a nerve, a sore spot. Maybe he is being a little unfair, Peggy tells him often to tone it down, but it is his little sister they are talking about. His only family left!
“Please, Steve. I know you don’t like it. I don’t like it either. We screwed it up. I know that!”
“Good.”
“But that’s exactly why I’m calling you. I need your advice. I need your help!” A heavy sigh follows his words, and for a few seconds, there’s only silence in the line until Steve shakes his head in something that resembles disbelief and defeat. “What do you want?” Steve’s eyes catch on a picture frame on his desk. He has several there. One frame is filled with a picture of his wife, two of his kids, a family picture of them four with Y/N, and one of his parents. But the one that catches his attention is of his sister, of Y/N. She’s a few years younger and still in college. Her smile is bright and joyful. It’s one of the last pictures taken before a tragedy hit that still steals his breath and causes sleepless nights filled with anxiety. There’s a small pause before Steve hears the younger man sigh. “I think she had that weird feeling I was just telling you about because the guy was watching her from the closet. But we can’t prove it yet. I’m sure she won’t want to leave the house. But what she saw here today already makes her nervous, and I don’t think she’ll need any more action like that. If that asshole comes back again, I can’t guarantee her safety. He would have had the opportunity to hurt her today.” Steve's eyebrows raise. He knows almost everything since Sam has already informed him. As a prosecutor and also as a friend of his, Sam has always turned to him when he needed advice. Much like Bucky does right now. But the fact that the guy might have been watching Y/N is completely new to him. As a prosecutor, it’s relatively easy for him to get access to the police investigation files. Just one short mail, and he gets what he needs. He logs in on his computer and shoots a quick mail away, receiving an answer and log-in data just seconds later. Having a friend in a police department always is a plus for him. While he clamps the phone between his head and his right shoulder, he reads briefly through the reports. “And now you want me to talk to her?”
“Yes. I’ll try again first. But if she wants to stay here, I’m asking you to persuade her to leave. Best you take her with you.” Steve laughs for a moment, stopping his reading. “Persuading is nice and good. I can book her a hotel, but how am I supposed to convince her to leave? I live six hours away from you. She'll never want to go that far away from her home, even if it pains me. Why do you think she's staying with you? “
“Steve. It’s an emergency. Do you think I’d call here?”
“I don’t think so. But I think you can forget that.”
“What?! Steve, she’s your sister. It’s understandable that you don’t want to do me any favors, but please think thi-”
“Shut up!” The man whispers into the phone, anger suddenly lacing his voice. It’s always there when he talks to the brunette, but just his accusation gets his blood boiling. He fumbles a new cigarette out of the box next to the ashtray and lights it. Startled by the noise, the secretary peers into the room, but hastily closes the door after being vigorously waved out.“I would take her with me the instant I get the opportunity. I should have done that when she met you. I'm just afraid she won't want to stay. That she might hate me. I want what’s best for her, and from my point of view, that’s not you! I don't like you, and that probably won't change so soon. If I would put my hatred for you over my sister's well-being, like you seem to think, then be sure that you would never have seen her again after the first meeting!” His words are filled with hatred and rage. Steve can feel his chest heave with heavy breathing and his pulse getting faster.
He has to admit that he glows at his achievement of rendering the man on the other line speechless. He might not have used that many words, but he feels like he got his point across just fine. The cigarette in his hand glows, emitting soft smokey swirls. Instead of taking a drag, he stops it into the ashtray.“I’ll talk to Peggy. I’ll call you in the evening. You’d better have talked to her.”
“…Okay.” The voice is silent, sounding a strange mix of startled and relieved. “Please promise me you’ll keep an eye on her when she comes to you. I just assume you’ll be the only one to get her to leave at all. If she doesn’t want to stay, you’ll just have to chain her to the sofa.” ‘Yeah.’ Steve mutters back, thinking that he won’t let her leave again if he actually needs to trap her in his house. They exchange a few words and agree that he will not call until at least six in the evening. Then he slams the phone on the station. With a huff, he gets up and leaves the office. “Cancel all my appointments for today and reschedule, please. I have things to take care of. After that, you’re free to go. Also, take the weekend off. I’ll see you on Monday.” He doesn't glance at his secretary as he leaves with hurried steps, plans already forming in his brain.
Bucky steps down the stairs. That asshole. What was he thinking? Angry, he goes back to the kitchen, carefully tiptoeing past the couch. He pulls a cup from one of the countless cupboards and fills it with hot coffee. Taking a sip, he promptly burns his tongue. Curses of various states leave his mouth. Certainly, his mother would smack him for that. Immediately, he peers over into the living room, hoping that the volume doesn’t wake Y/N up. Thank God. She's still sleeping. With the cup in his hand, he walks into the conservatory, stares out at the garden, and empties the coffee, again burning his tongue. Instead of getting back inside, he flops down into one of the chairs, disposing of the empty cup on the small side table. “What a mess.” His hand runs through his hair as he sighs deeply. For a moment, Bucky closes his eyes. Pictures instantly form in his mind, creating scenes he hopes he will never see in real life. He startles awake minutes later. A big yawn makes his jaw crack. He hasn’t been sleeping well without Y/N, and last night, after all these events, he wasn't able to sleep at all. So, no wonder he drifted off the second his eyes closed. With a quick to the clock, he sees that just twenty minutes have passed. In a swift move, he grabs the mug, rubs his eyes, and hives himself up. Wandering through the kitchen, he leaves the mug on the island and goes further to the living room couch. He kneels in front of the couch then and looks at his sleeping girlfriend. His fingers itch to stroke a fallen strand of hair out of her face, but he doesn’t. Instead, he puts his left elbow on the seat and leans his head in his hand. A smile forms on his lips. She’s really cute when she sleeps. His eyes slip close again the longer he listens to her steady breathing and the soothing sound of the ticking clock.
Summary: Eddie is a bit stressed, which is not good.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: Car crashes, broken bones, mentions of blood
Masterlist
"Come on, bunny, hurry. God, Hop is ripping my head off if we're late!”
“Eddie! Calm down. He won't.”
“Ha! Have you ever seen him mad? I mean, really mad?”
Y/N watches on as Eddie practically rips his car door off to clamber behind the wheel. Rolling her eyes, she throws her bag onto the passenger seat and climbs in as well, though she’s softer with the door. Eddie quickly starts the engine and pulls out of the driveway. It feels like He’s flooring the gas pedal. “I have, yes.” Eddies head shoots to her immediately. “What? When?”
“Eyes on the road, Eddie!” Y/N’s hand tightens on the handle f her door as she stares at the dark and empty street. Eddies head snaps back to the road, but she can see the confusion still in his eyes. “I might have, accidentally, of course, kicked a stone through his car window. And obviously, it has nothing to do with the fact that he just gave me a lecture.”
Obviously.” Eddie laughs and takes a corner a bit sharper than Y/N would like. “Ed’s, could you just, slow down a bit?”
“Bunny, you know how Hop is. If I’m late, he will lecture me, and I'm not as brave to kick stones in his company.” Again Y/N rolls her eyes, but her free hand comes down to his thigh, squeezing softly. “Please, Teddie. I just want to live. A bit slower and closer to the speed limit, yeah? If Hopper is bitchy about us being late, I tell him it’s my fault. He likes me. My head will stay where it is.” She smiles reassuringly at him. “Besides. It’s El’s birthday. I don’t think she minds.”
“It’s not her I’m afraid of.” Y/N sighs. She knows Eddie is a skittish and anxious boy at times. She rather not have him behind the wheel, but he wouldn’t hear of it and didn’t give in. In favor of relaxing him, she drops the topic and fiddles a bit with his radio until she manages to get a tape in with a few of Eddie's favorite songs. A quick glance to her right shows that his stressed expression leans a bit to something resembling a bit more relaxed and comfortable. The drive to Hopper usually takes about twenty minutes, so Y/N relaxes the more time passes. Just ten minutes into the drive, she sees something, and her stomach drops. “Eddie! The deer!” Her nails bore into his tight, her other hand clamping around the door handle, and her eyes squeeze shut. She’s not sure what happens then. Her body gets thrown to the side as the car swerves to the left. He swears loudly, and then, suddenly, her body gets thrown forward; the seat belt cuts into her body. A crash. Silence.
Y/N keeps her eyes tightly shut and tries to breathe through the pain and shock. “Fuck! Bunny, you alright? Are you hurt?” Eddie's voice sounds strained and worried. All Y/N can do, though, is take a few deep breaths and breathe against the pain in her chest. “Y/N?”
“I-I… Chest hurts.”
“Fuck, shit! Alright, eh…. Let’s- let’s get out of here first, yeah?” Instead of verbally answering, Y/N nods. She takes two steady breaths and loosens her seatbelt. She opens the door and stumbles out of the car. Her eyes roam over the hood that curled around a tree, though it's mostly on the driver's side. She hears Eddie curse as his door shuts, and instantly, worry sets in. “Teddie! Teddie, are you hurt?” She practically runs around the back of the car, only to be met with Eddie leaning against the driver's side. He cradles his right arm against his chest. Blood is dripping from his nose and left temple. “F-fuck.”
“Teddie!” Y/N quickly skips to him, cradling his head in her hands, trying to study his face. His eyes are a bit unfocused, and in the dim light of the streetlamp a few feet away, she can see that his pupils aren't the same size. Concussion, probably a broken nose.
“Can you look at me?”
“Which one of you?” Y/N’s worry increases since Eddie sounds pretty sincere and confused. There’s no sign of his typical grin. “Eddie! Tell me what hurts”
“Eh… head, pretty bad, actually.” Eddie groans and slowly slips to the ground. Y/N tries her best to guide him. She looks up and down the street, but on this dark fall evening, there’s no car to be seen. “What else?”
“Arm, think it's broken. My ribs kinda hurt. And my left ankle.”
“Okay, alright. Think you’ll be alright for a sec? I’ll quickly grab my bag and try to reach Hop, yeah?”
“No, what ‘bout you? Anything hurts Bunny?” She frowns a bit. He had asked her that already, but to not worry him, she runs her hand through his curls. “Just my ribs, probably from the seatbelt, and might bruise.”
“No…” Eddie whines as if he himself hurt me. It sounds a bit like he broke his favorite toy while playing. “It’s alright, Teddie. Keep breathing. I’ll be right back.”
In a few seconds, she is at the passenger's side again and grabs her bag from the floor. She’s quick to find her phone and dials Hopper's number, but nothing happens except the annoying beeping. “Come on, Hop, come on!” The lien dies, and she tries again. Her right foot taps nervously against the floor, one hand pressing against her chest, which still hurts from the seatbelt. Then finally, the line connects. “Hello?”
“St-Steve?”
“Yeah, who’s there?”
“I-It’s Y/N.” Her voice starts shaking a bit, adrenaline seemingly leaving her body. “Finally, we’ve been waiting for you! Where are you?”
“Is Hop there?”
“Yeah, give me a sec.” She hears Steve call Hopper's name. “Are you alright? You sound upset.”
“Y-Yeah, we, eh… We’ve had an accident.”
“Wha-”
“Y/N! Where the hell are you?! Munson too occupied to brush his hair?”
“H-Hop-” Mor doesn't leave her lips; just a sob comes out, which quickly lets tears cloud her vision. “What's wrong, kid? Where are you?” Y/N tries to fight her sobs and tells Hopper about the deer. The policeman sounds calm, but Y/N knows he’s anything but. He might act grumpy all the time, but he secretly loves and cares for each one of them. The second they hang up, with Hopper promising to be there in ten, she feels totally exhausted and tired. Sniffling, she goes back to Eddie only to find him with his eyes closed, head against the car. “E-Eddie? Eddie!”
Still sniffling, Y/N is guided by Hopper through a set of doors. “Now, Y/N. He’ll be alright.”
“I-I know. Still s-scared me.” Hopper's Hand squeezes her shoulder softly, and walks with her through some halls until he stops in front of a door. “You okay? Rips alright?”
“Yeah, better, at least.” The man nods and knocks at the door but doesn't make any moves to enter himself. All he does is open the door and shove Y/N in. Though he has a small reassuring smile on his lips. She tries to smile as well, but she’s still shaken up. The accident has been barely more than an hour and a half ago and the shock from finding Eddie passed out still sits deep in her bones. It helps that she sees him smiling at her now as she turns to the bed in the small room. “Hey, Bunny.”
“Teddie.” She sighs a breath of relive and walks over to him, immediately pressing a longing kiss against his forehead. “How are you?” His hand comes up to softly wipe the few stray tears away. “Ribs okay?”
“You asking me?” Eddie only frowns at her, not giving any kind of answer. Y/N giggles nonetheless and nods. I’m okay. My ribs are just a bit bruised. Doctor gave me some painkillers. What about you?”
“I’m totaled. You can bring me to the scrapyard to my car. My CAR, Y/N!” Eddie wails theatrically, throwing his head back into the pillow. “Y/N only rolls her eyes and takes a seat on the bed by Eddie's hip, carefully taking his uninjured hand in hers. Her thumb strokes softly over his skin. “My arm’s broken, two ribs cracked, ankle sprained, and I have pretty little princesses dancing around my head, confirming I’m suffering from a concussion.” He pouts at Y/N. “You want to know what's worse?”
“What?” She smiles at him. He looks adorable. If you don’t count the injuries and the setting they’re in, she probably would pepper his face with kisses to make the pout stop. “None of these princesses are as pretty as you! Why can’t they look like you?” Y/N frowns at him and nods seriously. “Indeed, that’s bad. But I can tell you why.”
“Why?”
“They’re not me because that means you won't pull stupid shit as often, only to get me to see more than once.”
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault.” Eddie plays offense, but Y/N only giggles and leans in until she’s just mere seconds away from his lips. “I know.” Then she presses closer to kiss him. Eddie hums and his arms softly come around her, carefully pulling her closer. “If that’s what happens-” He kisses her again. “When I get hurt. I’ll do it again.” He manages to press a last kiss in before Y/N quickly sits up straight, glaring daggers at him. “Don’t you dare, Edward!” Her voice and Eddie's laughter echo through the hall. Hopper smiles at himself as she shakes his head in disbelief before he strolls back down the hall. “These kids.”
Summary: Steve comes down with a cold, but is it really just a clod?
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Word count: 1.7k
Masterlist
Y/N walks through the ankle-high grass, looking forward with a soft smile as her eyes gaze over all the pretty and colorful flowers. The smell is wonderful. Fresh and flowery. Soothing.
The only thing that’s a little annoying is the chill of the breeze. Goosebumps spread over her skin, and a small shiver runs down her body. And this sound. What is that? It’s a bit dull and faint, but it doesn't sound good. Could it be coughing? While she tries to listen, she turns and turns around, trying to find something. Someone!
The flower field slowly fades, but the coughing sound just gets stronger, louder. It takes a few more seconds for her to really start to wake up, but by the time her eyes slowly flutter open, she hears the coughing loud and clear. She blinks a few times and rubs her eyes to be able to focus on their dark bedroom, then she turns on her back and sits up a bit, eyes focusing on Steve lying beside her. He’s on his side, back to her, but his body is shaking and rocking with the violent, deep, and wet-sounding cough that sounds like they hurt and burn.
“Stevie?”
“D-Doll…” He stops answering for another round of coughing which lets Y/N’s mind ring with alarm. She sits up straight then, her right hand holding her up while her left hand gently strokes over Steve’s back. “That sounds nasty.” She tries to soothe him a bit, to get him to calm down and comfort. It takes a few more minutes, but then Steve settles down exhausted as he rolls on his back. His eyes are half-lidded as he pants. “Stevie, that isn’t just a cold anymore.”
“No, I’m fine. Probably swallowed wrong.” He coughs again, but it doesn't sound nearly as bad as before. “Sorry, I woke you up.”
“I’m not bothered by that, Steve. But maybe we should get you to a doctor? Let you get checked over. This cough sounds like it hurts.”
“Nah, ‘M fine.”
“Steve.” Y/N sighs, wants to say more, but Steve gifts her with a small droopy smile and pulls weakly at her hand. That alone is a sign that he’s not feeling well. He’s never rough with her, always paying attention that he’s as gentle and soft as he can be, but right now, he’s too weak even to attempt to pull her in. “Need cuddle, that’s all.” With worry on her face, she obliges his weak tug and lies down beside him, cuddled up to him with her head on his shoulder. “Stevie, you’re pretty warm. Are you sure you’re okay?” The heat emitting from Steve is enormous. More than usual, even. His shirt feels clammy against her cheek. “Yeah, ‘s just from coughing.” He clears his throat a few times and starts running his hand up and down Y/N’s side. She can hear the rattle in his chest, the slight bubbling sound that starts to worry her. She knows that this is no longer a common cold but something way more serious. Let’s make a deal, yeah?”
“Doll….” Steve’s eyes are closed, exhaustion written all over his face with a soft sheen of sweat. His brows are furrowed, and Y/N has the feeling that he’s concentrating, not to cough again. She sits up a bit more to have a better look at him.
“Steve. I don’t think this is just a normal cough, and if you’re still like this, with this rattle in your chest”, she pokes his chest right in the middle, “Then I’m taking you to a doctor. Okay?”
“Doll, that really not-”
“Are you arguing with me, captain?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, which makes Steve snort with a short following cough. “No, Mrs. Roger. Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”
“Good.” She smiles and shifts down a bit to press a lingering kiss against his forehead. “So, you agree?”
“If I agree, does that mean you come back to cuddle me again?” She gives him a deadpan look because he knows the answer already. She would cuddle him anyway. Just as he knows, she’ll drag him to a doctor as soon as he’s awake, if he agrees or not. “Yeah, okay. Now come back here.” He presses a kiss to her forehead as she settles again. For Y/N, sleep doesn't come for the rest of the night. She stays awake, intent on listening to his chest, the little coughs, and the occasional wheezing.
Two days later, Y/N stroll through the sliding door, flowers in hand and a bag slung over her shoulder. She greets the woman behind the sign-in desk and skips right to the elevator. She trolls through the halls until she meets room 305. She knocks softly and enters without waiting for an answer. Steve lies in his bed, breathing mask on his face and eyes closed, though he perks up the second she enters the room. A lazy smile builds under the mask, and his hand comes up to pull it down. “Hey, baby.” His voice is slightly raspy, but that’s to be expected. After all, he managed to get pneumonia. “Hey, handsome.” She walks up to his bed and presses a soft, quick kiss to his lips. “Brought you something as cheer up and…” She rummages through her bag to pull out some pencils and a new sketchbook. “I brought this in my way here. Thought you might be glad for some distraction.”
“Thank you.” His eyes light up, and he makes grabby hands at her to pass the things over. With a soft laugh, she settles the flowers in the vase at the table opposite Steve and throws the old ones into the trash. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“Yeah?” She walks back over and settles in the chair that she has been occupying for the last two days. “Didn’t sleep well?”
“No.” Steve sighs and stets the pencils and sketchbook on his lap after inspecting it. “Been coughing a lot, barely slept at all.” Y/N’s brows furrow in concern, a hand shooting up to rum bis chest. Steve hums and his hand shoots up to grab her wrist before he brings it up to kiss her palm. Then his head falls back onto the pillow with an exhausted sigh. “Want to try and sleep now?”
“Can’t.” Suddenly his body is shaking with a round of hacking coughs, leaving him wheezing for air. Y/N jumps up and rubs his chest in hope of releasing him from some pain. It takes a few minutes for Steve to settle again finally. “Man, that sounds so bad. Should I get a nurse?”
“Nah, was here right before you came. It’ll be fine.”
“Doesn’t sound find t me, though.” Steve smiles lazily, still panting and trying to catch his breath. Y/N takes the mask from around his neck and settles it back over his nose and mouth. “Come on, handsome, get comfy.” She takes the pencils and sketchbook and puts them on his side table before she settles back on in her chair. She puts her feet on the mattress and looks through her bag until she grabs a book and pulls it out. “What are you doing?”
“Hush now. Close your eyes get comfy, and listen to me read you to sleep.” Y/N pages through the book until she finds the side Steve stopped at a few days ago. She glances over the book to catch a glimpse of her husband and finds the blonde lying on the bed with a gentle smile and soft gaze on her. “What?”
“You're reading to me? I love when you do it.”
“I know.” She smiles softly, clears her throat, and glares playfully at him. “Now, eyes closed! Sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He settles and closes his eyes dutifully, which makes her smile. She clears her throat again and starts reading.
It doesn't take more than ten short minutes until she hears a soft snore coming from the bed. She continues reading out loud until she finished the chapter and mark it with Steve’s bookmark. She loves reading to him and has formed the habit of at least finishing the chapter she’s on since Steve once complained that she stopped in the middle and he couldn’t really dream then. How he knew is beyond her, but since then, she never did it again. Carefully she puts the book back into her bag and pulls her own out, and starts reading. All she can hear is Steve’s soft snores, the occasional soft cough, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. About an hour later, a nurse slips in and smiles at her. “Ah, he’s finally sleeping? Poor thing was hacking up a lung all night.” Y/N smiles back and nods as the nurse checks Steve over, noting dutifully and relieved that his fever is down too. Then she leaves them both alone again with the promise of returning with lunch in about an hour. “You stayed.” The raspy voice startles her out of her concentration, and the book almost falls from her lap to the floor. Still, she greets a sleepy, blinking Steve with a soft smile. “Of course.” She stands up and kisses his cheek, her hand carding softly through his mussed hair. “My husband’s in this hospital, after all.”
“Really?” Steve coughs slightly, hand flying to his chest as he tries to sit up but fails. “Should have introduced us.”
“Maybe I should.” She grins and kisses his temple while guiding him back down. “Now, how are you feeling?”
“Better. Thank you.”
“Great. Then scoot over. It’s been too long since I’ve got any cuddles.”
Steve laughs, which throws him into a smaller coughing fit, but he settles faster this time and scoots to let his wife slip in beside him. “I love you.” He kisses her temple and pulls her as close as he can. “I love you too.”
Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 3.1k
Warnings: dead animal, descriptions of blood and disembodiment, vomiting
Divider by Firefly-Graphics
Series Masterlist // Masterlist
The scream rips the men away from the lifeless animal. “Was that Y/N?”
“Shit!” Bucky throws the gloves and the garbage bag away, scrambles up from his crouched position and almost faceplants again as he trips over his own feet. He barely catches himself, twists his wrist slightly as he cushions his fall, and runs back to the conservatory. He looks around, but his girlfriend is not in the conservatory, the kitchen, the living room, or down the hall. “Y/N? Where are you?” He sprints up the stairs, taking two steps at once. Behind him, he can hear Sam following him. Bucky turns at the top of the stairs to run to the bedroom when his eyes catch the light coming from their shared office. He stops abruptly, almost making Sam run into his back. He’s breathing hard as he quickly steps into his room, squats down, and sees Y/N sitting on the floor. She’s pale, almost white, as if she has died sitting down if it wasn’t for her breathing. It's fast but shallow, and Bucky knows she’s not getting enough air if she continues like this. He inhales deeply to steady his breathing and then speaks to his girlfriend. “Y/N! Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
But Y/N just stares ahead, a mask of horror on her face. Tears run down her cheeks, and sobs get stuck in her throat, making breathing even more difficult. “Baby. Look at me.” Gently he puts one hand on her shoulder, and the other softly cups her cheek. She doesn't react. There's no sign of recognition, no flinch, no stuttering breath, no eye contact. “Doll, you’re hyperventilating. Look at me. Try to breathe with me.” Bucky draws the air deep into his lungs, holding it for a moment before he ejects it again. He repeats it, trying to hold eye contact with Y/N, even though she doesn't notice him. The stiff woman makes no effort to copy him. Instead, her breathing gets worse and worse.
"Fuck!" Sam breathes out. His voice sounds raw, rough, almost hoarse. He sounds really shocked. Bucky looks up at him as he steps into the room. “What?” At first, he thinks Sam means Y/N’s state, but then he notices that Sam stares in the same direction as Y/N, with the same mask of horror on his face. Drawing his eyebrows together in confusion, he follows their gazes and draws in the air sharply.
A large German Shepard lies on the carpet, right between his and Y/N’s desk. The animal must have been beautiful when it was alive, but now its brown fur is drenched and sticky with blood. The abdomen has a large cut, skin splitting open, revealing the dog's organs that are scattered on the floor. The intestine is completely missing and instead hangs over the curtain rod like a garland for Christmas. The animal's head is smashed and no longer looks like a dog. The limbs are separated and neatly lined up next to the animal. Blood soaks the cream-colored carpet, leaving it lying in a large red puddle.
Bucky looks away bitterly and stares up at his colleague. Anger rises in his chest, and even though he doesn't want to admit it, fear is just as fast to grip his chest. "I thought you searched everything! What the hell is that?!" Angrily he gestures at what used to be a living animal. Silently he hopes the poor animal was dead before it was slaughtered like that. Sam also turns away and looks into his friend's eyes."I swear, I checked. There wasn't a dog here before; you saw me check it out. It was all clean. I don’t kno-," he leaves the rest of the sentence unspoken. Bucky also knows what his colleague is thinking just now. The guy is still here!
Bucky works fast. He looks at his fiancé again and hugs her, guiding her head into his shoulder, so she can't stare at the animal anymore. Then he picks her up. He’s careful since she’s still unresponsive and unable to hold onto him. He slips past Sam and carries her back to the bedroom. Slowly she starts to come back to her senses as he sits down on the mattress. Bucky holds Y/N on his lap, tightly embraced. “Doll, please. Listen to my voice. I have you. You’re safe with me; we’re both all right.” Sluggishly, her head sinks onto his shoulder, but her breathing remains erratic, though, Bucky thinks it already calmed down just the tiniest bit. He gently strokes her hair, hoping to soothe her. “Everything will be fine. I promise." He thinks for a moment, then pulls her closer to him and starts humming a song he knows she loves. They dance to it now and then in the living room if the moment feels right, and they’re both in the mood. He hums for a while until he notices that Y/N slowly calms down. At some point, he even starts singing the lyrics. His eyes flicker through the room, trying to gauge their surroundings. There’s nothing unusual, but Bucky has to admit that he has a bad feeling. But that could be because he just saw a dismembered dog in his own home. He doesn’t even want to imagine if that’s how Y/N felt today.
Y/N’s head gets heavier on his shoulder, causing him to look down. Her eyes are closed, her breathing flat. A small smile creeps on his face, and he softly kisses her cheek, holding her for a while longer. When Bucky’s sure that his girlfriend is deep asleep, he tries to be as careful as he can be while gently lying her down. He covers her with the duvet that Y/N took upstairs before getting dressed. Then he slips in right beside her, still pressing her tightly to his side. He keeps stroking her arm gently, soothing her in her sleep so she hopefully won't have a nightmare. He can hear his colleague's voice, who speaks frantically into his radio and asks for reinforcements.
Heavy footsteps echo through the house and deep voices bark instructions. I blink against the sun's blinding light but quickly close my eyes again. After ten minutes, I can feel my breathing deepening and slowly drift back into a restless sleep.
Warm arms wrap around my middle. I hear the voices from earlier; they are very close, somewhere in the hall. But someone is talking in my bedroom. Groggily I open my eyes. My head hurts like hell, and now that the sunlight dispels the darkness, it's even worse. How long have I been asleep?
I try to turn around, but the arms around me prevent me at first. My eyes slip close again, and I whine a bit until the arms loosen their tight grip. This time I manage to turn around.I sigh in relief. I didn’t notice until I turned that my side actually started to hurt a bit, and now, lying on my right side, the relief is immediate. I open my eyes again, still blinking against the sleep and light, only to be met with a man's chest.“Hey, doll.” A kiss is gently pressed to my hairline. Bucky briefly turns away from me again. “Okay, thanks, Sam. I’ll leave the rest to you.” His head turns back to me, and I look into his familiar handsome face. A small smile creeps over his narrow lips. His blue eyes, however, radiate concern, mustering my face and looking over every inch. “How are you?” The voice is also dripping with concern but has something that sounds like relief. I slowly straighten myself and stretch my body as best as possible while still cuddling up to him. Then I entangle my legs with his and scoot closer to nuzzle into his chest. The whole time Bucky’s eyes stay on me. I look up at him and smile, but something must have happened while I look at him because, in the next moment, all the pictures pop up in my mind.
Blood, limbs, organs.
Without warning, my stomach cramps, and throw up. It splashes all over myself, and on the uniform of the man next to me. But instead of jumping up and getting to safety, Bucky stays put. One hand is on my back and soothingly caresses it, while the other strokes my hair out of my face. “Come on, doll, sit up. That’s easier. Just like that.” Bucky is Quick to help me sit up. I choke a few more times until the taste in my mouth and the constant choking brings tears to my eyes. “Think somethings coming up?” His hand runs over my back, his voice soothing and warm against my head as he presses his lips to my temple. How he can kiss me while I’m full of vomit and, in general, pretty disgusting is beyond me. I’m not certain if something coming up; my stomach seems to think so as it clenches uncomfortably again. I only shrug. “Okay, let's get you to the bathroom. Can you walk?”
I shake my head. If I know one thing, then it’s that I don’t have any control over my legs at the moment. Right now, I wouldn't even dare to wipe my nose. Everything feels numb and paralyzed. I feel his arms come around my beg and under my knees, and suddenly, he lifts me up. He’s mindful of my queasy stomach and the vomit on my own clothes. Instead of carrying me to our bathroom, which might be closer, he carries me through the hall to the guest bathroom. Probably because it’s easier to clean later. I also know that Bucky often goes there if he needs to puke. He claims that the smell won't make us both nauseous this way.
Softly he helps me down, and to the toilet, then he vanishes. He comes back after a few seconds, wearing a new shirt and sweatpants. Bucky has a hair band on his wrist that he quickly slips off to wrap my hair into a loose bun. “That’s better, huh?” he smiles at me again and continues with his back rubs as another wave of nausea overcomes me, and I puke into the toilet. The smell and sounds alone would make me vomit on a normal day. Now that I feel bad already, it's like it intensifies. My stomach clenches so hard that it hurts, eliciting a sob from me as tears fall. Between puking and crying, it gets harder to get any air into my lungs; my nose is completely blocked now.
The whole time Bucky stays with me and doesn't say a word except silently encourage me to keep going, that it will feel better soon, and soothingly strokes my back. A knock on the door makes me look up tiredly. Bucky locked the door when he returned, which is pretty foresighted since a few strangers are currently in our house. Bucky’s eyes instantly flicker to mine, silently questioning if I’m all right for a moment. I whine a bit, not really wanting anybody to see me like this, but who knows, maybe it’s important, so I nod. “All right. I’ll be quick, sweetheart.”Again, he kisses my temple. I have to smell so bad, but he still does it. I admire him for that resilience. Bucky gets up with a soft squeeze of my shoulder and quickly steps out of the bathroom-. I watch him close the door as a groan slips past my lips. A new wave of nausea hits again, but nothing comes up this time. With the back of my hand, I wipe away the tears that are caused by the corrosive taste and effort. I retch a few more times, but nothing comes up. Confident that I’m finally finished, I flush the toilet. Getting on my feet is another struggle. My legs are trembling and weak, but with a tight grip on the toilet, I manage to push myself up and stumble to the sink behind me.
I fill one of the cups with water and rinse my mouth thoroughly before spitting it out and splashing water into my face.I look down into the sink for a moment, then close my eyes and hold my breath. When I look back up in the mirror, I’m startled by the image of the woman in it. Shit! Is that me? She' looks nothing like me.
My hand runs over my cheeks. The woman in my mirror is pale and looks like a goddamn corpse.Hardly recognizable rings start to appear under the eyes, which only stare expressionlessly into the mirror. The otherwise green eyes, which sparkle like emeralds, as Bucky always claims, seem dull and pale.
Almost lifeless.
Somehow disgusted, I turn my gaze away from the mirror and feel the urge to bend over the bowl again. Instead of doing that, I take a few deep breaths, briefly wondering where Bucky’s now. I decided to strip out of my soiled clothes. I manage to get them off without getting any of the vomit in my hair. I throw them in a pile on the floor and leave the bathroom. The hall is empty, so I find it safe to stroll through it to our bedroom. The second I pass the office, I close my eyes, a hand on the wall to guide me past it. I don’t know if the door is open or closed, but right now, I don’t even care. I don’t want any chance to find what I found earlier again accidentally.
I hold my breath for the whole four seconds until I finally reach the bedroom. I don’t waste any time and quickly slip back into bed, this time purposefully on Bucky’s side. I see that he already switched the sheet, where some of the vomit had landed. It doesn't smell like bucky anymore, but his pillow still does. So, I grab his pillow and snuggle into it, inhaling deeply and letting his smell soothe me. There’s nothing to see or hear from Bucky, only the voices somewhere downstair sound silently up to me.
For a moment, I think I can hear Bucky's voice. I pull the thinner throw blanket for the feet of our bed up to my chin because I suddenly feel quite hot and just the look at our duvet makes me feel like dying of a heart stroke.
After about ten minutes - or maybe just a few seconds - Bucky comes back. I can hear him call for me in confusion until he steps into the room. “Ah, here you are.” He strolls over to me and sits down at the bedside.He pulls the blanket back a bit to reveal my face. His expression softens as he looks at me. “Here. Take the pills and have a drink. They’ll help with the nausea.” He hands it to me, but I shake my head. A grimace of disgust. I hate taking medicine, and pills are my worst enemy. After spiders. Even as a small child, I was never able to swallow any kind of pills. Strangely gummy bears weren’t a problem at all.
Most of the time, I feel worse after taking a pill because it takes me so long to swallow the damn things. I try to pull the blanket over my head again, but Bucky quickly grabs it firmly to hold it down. “I know you don’t like them, but they’ll help you. Come on, doll. For me?” Puppy dog eyes! I hate them!
He pulls this move, and suddenly I do everything he wants me to. So, I sigh, defeated, sit up as much as I can without disturbing my stomach, and do as he tells me.
It takes me a few tries and almost the whole glass of water, but I finally succeed. “Good girl.” Bucky smiles and strokes my hair, but I slap his hand away with a grumble. Then I arrange the blanket around me so I can lay my head on his lap. “What are you doing?”
“Going to sleep,” I grumble and wrap my arms around his hips so that I can hide in his stomach. Without any kind of warning, I start to sob again. I don’t know where it comes from, but suddenly, I’m a mess.
Slowly his hand brushes through my hair, as he has done so many times today, and immediately it feels a bit better. “Shh... All right. I know it’s a bit much today. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He sits a bit longer like that, continuing his motions. “Doll, everyone else is leaving. Sam called someone to make sure the house gets cleaned today. He’ll be back around noon to make sure.” He pauses for a moment. “Would you like to come to the living room with me? Maybe watch a movie?”Still crying, I nod and let go of him. He unwraps me from my blanket cocoon and squats down in front of the bed. “Come here, pretty girl. Let me give you a ride.” Bucky knows I love it when he carries me around, and a smile creeps onto my face. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my thighs against his hips. Bucky is comfortably warm. I bury my face in his neck, letting the tears continue to fall. “Okay. All passengers are instructed to keep a tight hold and enjoy the ride. We arrive approximately in two minutes at our destination: Livingroom couch. We wish you a joyful ride!” Bucky announces it with a loud voice, sounding almost like someone from a fair. I have to admit that it makes me giggle despite the fact that I'm still crying. He’s ridiculous.
I feel him standing up and walking, getting down the stairs and into the living room. Bucky lets me slide off his back. Then he lies on the sofa and stretches his arms to me. They seem so inviting that I let them wrap me up in an embrace and lie down on his chest, legs wedged between his and the backrest.
It’s a little uncomfortable. So, instead, I slide one leg over his, and immediately, it seems more comfortable. He hugs me tenderly and breathes a soothing kiss onto my hair. He gently caresses my back while one hand fumbles for the TV remote. He switches the TV on, and some movie pops up that neither of us pays a lot of attention to. The pills he had given me before starts to take their effect, and I can feel myself getting drowsy and tired again. I feel him gently spreading a thin blanket over us as I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here the whole time.”
Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: none
Series Masterlist // Masterlist
It feels like an eternity. The whole time Bucky’s gone, I’m fighting my tired eyes and exhausted body. I don’t want to give into the bliss of sleep that tries to lure me in. The fear that holds is now less of what happened but more of what is to come. I know my mind well enough to know that nightmares will follow me into my sleep, making pictures up that are worse than what I would dare to imagine.
My tea is finally empty, and the sun starts to rise, slowly filling the room with a bit of light that doesn’t come from the lamps. The rain is slowly getting less and less, the wind receding to a breeze. Usually, that is the time I would open each and every window close to me to smell the freshness that rainfall brings and let the breeze into the house to bring a bit of fresh air in. but I don’t get up, don’t even move much. I turn a bit to lie on my back, staring at the blank white ceiling. Sam had been right. Everything is where it’s supposed to be; nothing is out of order. A few magazines lay elsewhere, but those were the ones Bucky frequently reads, and the fruit bowl is a bit emptier. But I conclude that this is because I can’t expect Bucky to stop living in our house just because we had a fight, and I was gone for a week. All the small changes I can see are plausible signs of a human being living in this house.
I notice a bit of dust as I turn onto my other side and face the room again. I probably should clean up a bit.
The thought pops into my head, making me snort. How ridiculous is that? Here I lie, after a panic attack and almost frightened to death because something feels really off, and what I think of is cleaning the house. Especially since I’m not a big fan of cleaning up. Unfortunately, Bucky isn't either, so we created a plan to divide housework between us, so we take turns. It entails everything from bringing the trash out, cleaning the house, washing the laundry, changing the sheets to garden work, and cleaning the cars. We quickly learned that both of us like some chores more than others. Bucky loves getting the cars clean and taken care of. That’s not a surprise since he always had a fable for cars, but what did surprise me is that he loves changing the sheets of the beds and taking care of the laundry. He does that while whistling or blaring music through the house. More often than not, I can find him dancing ridiculously around. Sometimes he ducks his head in embarrassment and gets back to work, other times he’s so carefree he pulls me in, and we dance for hours. Housework is totally forgotten.
In exchange, I love cooking and garden work since that relaxes me deeply and takes my mind off patients and cases. Those chores are not divided that evenly. They pop up more on the chart of who loves to take care of them. No one can complain like this, and at times we switch it up. Bucky always complains that we just should leave the ones we like on our charts and divide what we hate. But I always try to tell him that he should cook from time to time, just to make sure he’s not dying or living off fast food when I’m not around. He hates it but agrees.
I wait a few more minutes, hoping Bucky will return any moment. I desperately want to lie down with him, cuddle into his side, and try to sleep while his heartbeat and steady breathing soothe me. But Bucky doesn’t come. A sigh leaves my lips, and I push myself up tiredly, back into a sitting position. I look around, contemplating what I should do. I don’t feel up to going to bed alone, but sitting here isn’t any better. More tea would be good. So, I get off the couch, grab my empty mug, and leave the duvet behind as I walk to the kitchen door. I stop just outside, looking through the slit, but I don’t see anyone. When did Bucky get up and away? Are they somewhere in the house?
I listened for a moment. Nothing. Did they really leave me alone? I would actually call myself a runaway animal and not particularly curious if it wasn't about my patients. But now I can't deny it. I want to know what’s going on.
I open the door and step into the kitchen. It is vacant, so I walk over to the sink and put the mug in there for later, then I venture over to the glass door. It's open, and I know for a fact that it was closed. Bucky and Sam said all doors are shut. Did they go into the garden? While it rains this much? I stop in the frame and peer out into the garden. It’s still drizzling a bit, but solely the sun is making its way through the clouds. The garden is lighted up enough that I can see two man way back by the shed. I squint a little trying to see what they are doing, but I can’t really make anything out. I am about to shout for them when Sam turns around. He stops for a moment before his hand slaps on Bucky’s arm. A bit confused, he looks up, saying something, but all Sam does is nod in my direction, and Bucky’s gaze follows. What's that? Is there something lying? A cat? Nonsense. I shake my head at the thought. What would he want with a cat? Whatever my fiancé’s holding in his hand, he puts it in Sam's hand, and quickly jogs towards me. When he gets closer, I see he’s wearing gardening gloves. “Sweetheart, what are you doing up? I thought you would be asleep.” I only shake my head at his words, still staring at his hands in confusion. “Please, baby, go back inside. Not that you catch a cold. You’re hardly wearing anything.” I look down on myself and blushed. Oh, my God. He is right. The robe has opened slightly, revealing that I wear hardly anything underneath hastily tighten the ribbon again, pulling everything so it covers my half-undressed state. Bucky removes his gloves and throws them on one of the chairs in the conservatory.
Then he turns me around by my shoulders and leads me back into the living room. “Sweetheart, please. You should rest.” He wraps the blanket around my shoulders again, and as he lets go of me again, I quickly grab his wrist. Maybe I grab too tight because my fingers turn nearly white, and Bucky hisses slightly. I can’t tell if it’s because I hurt him or he’s just surprised. “Bucky, what have you found? Why do you have to wear gloves?” I look at him and see his face trying to put on a mask of innocence, though his eyes won't meet mine. “What are you hiding from me?” My voice is soft and confused. Maybe it holds a bit of hurt because his eyes instantly switch to mine.
You don't have to be a genius to see that he’s feverishly searching for an answer. His gaze quickly wanders to the left and focuses on a dirty spot on the kitchen island that does not exist. Slowly he wrings his wrist out of my grip, lifting my hand to press a soft kiss against my palm. “Don’t worry. Just a dead animal. Looks like a raccoon. Sam is so friendly and... disposes of it.” He squeezes me and disappears shortly afterward. I’m still perplexed and look at the door. He lied. It’s not like it never happened before, but suddenly I feel highly offended. The anger of the past week flickers through my mind. Why would he dispose of it right now if it's just one random animal? In the rain? It could’ve waited till the weather is better.
I am feverishly thinking about what to do next. I really should go back to the bedroom. The couch is nice and all, but I won't be able to fall asleep on it anyway. Shaking my head, I get up, clutching the duvet to my body and lifting the bottom so I won’t fall over on the stairs. The whole track up my mind is occupied by the fact that Bucky definitely tries to hide something from me. In our bedroom, I walk over to the open closet and grab a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and an old shirt of his. Then I shut the door. I just turn around as a thought comes to my mind and lets me face the door again. Was it open when we left?
I stare a second longer, but then I throw the thought overboard. I’m probably just being paranoid. I turn back to our bed, ready to climb in, but then I reconsider. Fine, if you're keeping a secret about what you found, it's got to be something you don't want me to know about. Ergo, it must be something you want to keep from me. What if this isn't the first thing that's happened? Otherwise, you'd have come home alone, like always. There's nothing scary about a dead animal. Besides, that feeling doesn't come from a dead animal. Something alive was here.
I decide to swallow my fear and go to his study. If he’s hiding something, I will likely find something in there. I found out years ago that Bucky was writing a digital diary. But he doesn't know that, and I’m not going to tell him. However, a big chunk of my brain shouts at me not to do that. It’s a major act of distrust, and I don’t really want to be that kind of person that snoops around in the highly personal stuff of their lover. And it’s probably difficult to explain what I have been doing at his computer anyway, though it’s more of a shared office. With a highly guilty conscious, I leave our bedroom and walk a few feet to our office door. I quickly slip inside and walk to Bucky’s desk but accidentally knock over his trash can. It falls, and its contents fly onto the floor, some paper balls rolling around. I roll my eyes with a groan. Bucky always crumbles his papers into small balls. Sometimes out of boredom, so he can try and throw it through the room, hitting several targets, he thought about before, and sometimes just because he’s frustrated. I actually have a small basketball basket hidden under the bed that I want to gift him. He can mount it to the wall opposite his desk and put the trashcan under it. Maybe I don’t have to clean up so much then. I lean down to quickly pick them up, but then my gaze catches something else. What's that?
I stand back up and walk over to the light switch. The room’s still pretty dark so I can’t really see anything. The small room lights up, so I turn back onto the floor to the spot that caught my attention. But what I see is not what I expected. A scream leaves me.
Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: dead animals
Divider by Firefly-Graphics
Series Masterlist // Masterlist
The second I sit down, a shiver runs down my body. My eyes are open wide, roaming the whole room as if expecting to find a murderer hiding behind our armchair or standing in a corner. Though I quickly notice that nothing looks different from usual. Bucky seems to sense my apprehension. He’s mindful to keep close to me, sitting next to me. He’s so close that my entire left side is pressed to his right. It feels comforting. From his guarded eyes, I can see that he’s ready to jump in front of me at any moment, and a strangely warm fluttering feeling fills my chest. I always knew that Bucky’s protective, even more about me than everybody else. But this expression and his body language do something to me that feels strange. A good kind of strange. I feel protected, safe. Loved. All the doubts and bad thoughts that have plagued me the last week are like they’ve been blown away, and what remains is my undeniable affection and love for the men beside me. Bucky turns slightly, pressing his lips softly against my temple before he leans away. “Okay?” This one word holds so many questions at once. Am I okay? Am I fine to lie down here? Do I feel something strange?
Instead of answering and telling him about my dream on the way home, telling him of this uneasy feeling that accompanied me the whole drive, I just reside to a small nod. It’s not like it's that important, and it has nothing to do with the situation I'm in right now. This nightmare was probably just a fraction of my guilt.
Sam chews on his lower lip and looks out of the window onto the street. Apparently lost in thought, he strides over to the window. I watch him while Bucky continues to hug me a bit until he slips from the couch to crouch in front of me. He pulls the edges of the duvet closer to me, angling his head to look into my eyes, seemingly making sure I’m fine for now. “I’m good.” I smile a small one that actually feels genuine. Sam turns around then a small, pained smile on his lips. “Hello, Y/N.” I nod at him and hold the blanket tighter. Redness creeps into my face when I realize I was sitting in nothing but my underwear, robe, and blanket. Briefly, I think about getting back upstairs to get dressed, at least in proper sleepwear, but then I would have to walk by myself, and I'm not ready for that yet.
So, I try to hide my embarrassment to ensure I’m properly covered. To my surprise, or not, really a surprise, Bucky made sure of it already. He smiles at me, his left hand coming up to cup the apple of my cheek, and runs his thumb over the skin. “I’ll make your tea now, yeah? I’ll be right back.” He kisses my other cheeks softly before he stands up and vanishes. I hear him puttering around in the kitchen as Sam steps away from the window to sink onto the cushions beside me. “How are you feeling?”
“Peachy.” He nods, a slight shade of embarrassment creeping into his features. “Shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.”
“’S all right.” I shrug, concentrating on my lap and the pattern of our duvet. “I looked around and didn’t find anything suspicious. I, eh… I hope that’s somewhat reassuring.” I free a hand out of my cocoon, not revealing anything major, and place it on his arm, softly squeezing it. “Thanks, Sam.” I smile at him, noticing his grateful one. Though even he seems to hide something. His eyes don’t meet mine, but before I can grill him on it, knowing that he will spill the beans if asked, Bucky comes back. He holds a steaming mug, carefully balancing it not to spill its contents. He curses lightly as it starts burning his finger, but he keeps his steady pace until he reaches the couch and carefully passes the mug onto me. “It’s hot, doll. Be careful.” Then he sits back down beside me, his hand gently lying on my knee, squeezing softly to ground and comfort me a bit longer.
He waits for me to take the first few sips. The warmth fills my tummy and body, flooding me with relief and calmness. Sam clears his throat before talking; his eyes trained on Bucky. Look down at myself, noticing that I reveal a bit more than I would like, but I can’t hold the duvet and mug simultaneously. “So, to make it short. There was nothing conspicuous in the house. I looked around, but could not find anything unusual for my circumstances. The doors are all locked, and I couldn’t see any signs of a break-in. Windows neither.”
“Good, thank you.” Bucky nods gratefully at Sam. Was he just looking in the house? What about the garden? Up until that moment, I haven’t thought about the possibility that someone or something might have been in the garden, but suddenly my gut tells me something is wrong, I can’t really say if it’s really in the garden, but now that Sam didn’t mention it, I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Bucky. Can you come with me to the kitchen for a moment? I have something that...” Sam stops for a second, his eyes flickering to me and back to my fiancé. It’s silent for a few more seconds; then, he continues to speak. “I have something that might interest you. I don’t want to drag Y/N into this. Y/N, it won’t take long, promise.” Sam gives me a smile again. It’s not one of his serious ones. I know that right away. That smile is supposed to calm me down, but it doesn't work; instead, it brings me more on edge. I still know something’s wrong, and Sam trying to cover something up or keep me in the dark doesn't make it much better.
A cold shudder runs through me as I furrow my brows. Bucky instantly squeezes my knee again, probably thinking I’m against being left alone. Which I am.
Bucky stares at me for a moment. Eyes gentle but calculating. It feels a bit like I’m in one of the interview rooms at the precinct, ready to be squeezed out for any information I possibly hide. However, he looks much gentler than any officer in movies and series.
Bucky then pats my knee again and leans in, pressing a few kisses to my cheek. “I promise I’ll be right back, okay, doll?” I simply nod, watching as he stands up. Instantly dread fills me, but Buck leans back down again to kiss my forehead. “Shout for me at any moment. No matter what it is. I’m just a few feet away.” I watch him follow Sam, then. They vanish into the kitchen, the sliding door slipping shut, though Bucky keeps it a few inches open, before he turns around to face Sam. Through the slit, I can see Bucky taking a seat on a stool by the island. He’s angled so that he can see me too. For a moment, our eyes meet, and he graces me with a small smile, eyebrows raised. He motions to my mug, encouraging me to keep drinking the tea. I take another sip for good measure, seeing a pleased grin spread onto his lips until his focus shifts to Sam, who I’m unable to see from my spot.
It takes two more sips until the realization really sets in that I’m all alone again. The sounds come back to my mind, playing tricks on my brain. My breath hitches as I hear a creak to my left. My eyes jump to the window, trying to see anything suspicious, but all I can see is half of the tree in front of our house. The rain still pours heavily, and the tree branches slap around as the wind plays with them. “Just the rain and wind, don’t worry. You’re fine.” I try talking to myself again, concentrating on breathing steadily. I don’t want to panic once again, and not over nothing nonetheless.
The more I continue breathing in, trying to steady my breath, the more I notice how silent the house is, except for the quiet conversation in the kitchen. What they don’t want me to hear still worries me, but at least they manage to soothe me back from my panic attack. A yawn slips past my lips again. I feel exhausted as if I just ran a marathon, so I deposit the mug on the coffee table and shove the duvet around a bit until I’m able to lie on my side, facing the backrest. My body seems to weigh a ton, my eyelids heavy with tiredness, though my mind is still fairly awake. The feeling of wrongness, however, just doesn't want to go away. It lingers in my mind like the fear of an upcoming test in school. And now that I’m alone, I get a little cranky with all the thoughts, fear, and secrecy. What the hell is going on here?
Bucky closes the door behind him but just so far that he can still look into the living room. Then he takes a seat on a stool, mindful to have Y/N in his periphery. He sees Y/N look at him with a look on her face that he doesn’t like. So, he graces her with a small smile, motioning for her to continue dirking and smirks as she dutifully takes a few sips. The urge to stick his tongue out in a playful manner rises, but he shoves it down, knowing it’s not the time for such fun. Then his focus shifts to Sam, who leans beside the door against the wall. “So? What did you find?” Sam raises a questioning eyebrow, silently asking how Bucky thinks he did, but Bucky just rolls his eyes. “Come on, man. You ask me to follow you so she doesn’t hear anything, and you want me to believe you just want to have a small chat? I don’t suppose we have a new case; otherwise, I would have gotten a text or a call.” Sam’s silent for a second, but then he uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the wall to sit opposite Bucky. “Touché. We didn’t get a new case. Though… You... didn’t tell her about your letters, did you?”
“Are you crazy?!” Bucky’s voice raises slightly, and he instantly cringes, briefly looking into the living room, pleased that Y/N doesn’t seem to have heard anything. He levels his voice back down to an almost whisper. “Of course, I haven’t. I don’t want to know what she would say. Besides, they’re not threatening or anything. I don’t take them very seriously.”
“I remember we had that conversation before.” Sam shakes his head, a hand running over his hair. “I don’t think they’re just empty threats, Barnes. You should start taking them seriously, especially since she’s back home now. She might accidentally find one in your mail one of these days.” He stares at Bucky but concentrates on Y/N, who is just about to lie down. He doesn’t want Y/N to find one. Hell, he doesn't want to get any of these letters! Whoever sends them has strange humor. “But that’s not what’s important right now. What about the daub on your car?”
“Sam, where are those questions going? No, I didn’t mention it either.” Bucky shakes his head in annoyance. When should he have told her? As she lied, crying and shaking in his arms a few minutes ago?
“We didn’t talk the whole week she was gone. She didn’t reply to my texts and calls, but Wanda told me she was fine, so I stopped bothering her. Why are you asking all of a sudden? What’s wrong with you?” Sam briefly looks at the conservatory door, gaze wandering further to the sliding door into the living room and back to Bucky. He looks at him seriously, mouth opening and closing again as he seems to doubt what to say. In the end, he begins to speak. “Come with me. You should see this.”
Bucky glances back through the cracked door into the living room. Y/N is not be seen now. Hopefully, she lying down, trying to sleep. She’s been awake a while, and Bucky worries for her. Despite what she thought days ago, he loves her so much he sometimes just wants to lie on the floor and cry about his happiness and luck. He’d never do anything to harm her, at least not willingly, though he has to admit that he didn’t do a good job of that in the past few months. Sure, work is hectic, and they had a few major cases that needed full attention, but he could have made sure to be home a bit more. He has a home office where he could do research and paperwork. He wants to make sure to be there for her now, more than ever.
He lets go of the sight, sighing, and follows Sam through the glass door, into the conservatory. “Sam, what the hell? Where are we going? I promised we stay close!”
“We’re not far. Come on.” The garden’s not exactly small, but since Y/N likes to buy small solar lights in different sizes, there’s enough light to recognize the little path that leads to the shed. When Y/N and Bucky decided to move in together, they went house hunting. After months and months of searching, Bucky was lucky enough to get a hint from a witness that a family member sells their house. Y/N instantly was all in, and practically fell in love the second she saw it. It wasn’t in their price range, but Bucky made it work. Y/N doesn’t need to know that he kind of guilt-tripped the poor man a bit and bribed him with self-made cupcakes until he went down with the price, enough for them all to be still happy about it.
They follow the path, and Bucky curses internally that Sam didn’t even bother to get their raincoats. In a matter of seconds, they’re soaked through. The wet clothing clings to his skin and a shiver runs down his body. Even though it's hot outside over the day, the rain cooled the air enough and it feels ten degrees cooler now. Being completely wet doesn't help.
Far back in the garden, almost at the fence behind the shed, Bucky can see what Sam wants to show him. He stops next to his friend and looks down. "Oh... Oh, my..." His breathing picks up a bit, shocked at the sight in front of him now. His eyes wander back up to look at Sam. “What the hell is that?”
“I think it used to be a cat or something. Hard to say. The fur is completely missing. Without legs, I can’t tell.”
“I can see that.” Bucky kneels down, takes the small flashlight from his utility belt, and lights up the dead animal's body, he inspects it for a moment. It’s really small and thin. From its shape, it could be a cat or a raccoon. Maybe a young one. He doesn't have much time to really look at it because the smell starts to burn in his nose, making his eyes water and his sight blurry.
“The blood doesn’t look like they just chopped off the animal’s legs a few minutes ago. That’s probably been a couple of hours ago. And it’s starting to smell.” He stands up again, pockets the flashlight, and looks at the sky. It’s lighter than just a few minutes ago. It won’t take long before the clouds might vanish and make room for the sunrise.
“Should I take pictures?” Bucky nods and runs his hand through his wet hair. “We should send it to the precinct to let the doc look over it. And we need to be fast about it before the sun fully raises. If she sees it – shit... I’ll get a bag and some gloves. And no word to Y/N.”
Summary: Spencer's girl has to leave for business, and he doesn't take it well.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!Reader
Word count: 800 words
Masterlist
Goodbyes.
Spencer had many of them throughout his life, starting with his father. All of his life is laced with them. His mother, then long time nothing despite minor friendships. Then Gideon happened. It broke his heart. For a long time, he reduced himself to reading the letter again and again until he could understand that this goodbye was necessary.
It continued with Maeve. This time he was broken on the inside, and only his colleagues and time managed to pick the pieces back up and heal him. However, it left a scar on him.
Alex left after he got shot, and for some time, he blamed himself, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault at all.
Then Derek. His leave Spencer could understand. He saw it with Hotch and Jake. He wouldn’t want that for Derek and his son.
They all left and confided in Spencer. Each of them left something for him. Though there were more. Elle, Kate, Emily.
That’s why he’s vibrating with fear right about now, standing in the middle of the hall in an airport for the worst goodbye this life could come up with.
“Spence, what’s with this face? It’s only for a few weeks.” All he can do is shake his head, somehow holding his tears at bay-. He feels miserable. After Maeve, he never thought he could feel worse, but this does feel much worse. “Sweetness, you leave all the time and come back. Why is this so hard for you?” Again, he shakes his head. He has no idea. He knows shell only begone for two, three weeks max. but it just feels different. Like a part of him is leaving, ripping a hole in his heart that will yearn to be filled once again. “Baby.” She steps closer, cupping his cheek as her flight gets called out for boarding. “I’m coming back.”
“You can’t promise.”
“Of course, I can, Spence.”
“No.” He shakes his head again. He knows the statistic for accidents, plane crashes, kidnappings, and such things. To be fair, anything of this happening to her is highly unlikely, but he sees it every day on his job. So, why should it be different with her? “Okay, I might be unable to promise, but what I can promise is that I’ll try everything in my power to come back to you as soon as possible. Yeah?” Her eyes search his for an answer, but Spencer’s unable to give her one. All he feels is sadness and pain. “I don’t want you to go.” His voice is small, almost childish even. She sighs in front of him, a tint of annoyance accompanying it. “Spence, we had it before. I need to go to this conference.”
“I know.”
“You still can come down there for a weekend.” Again, his head shakes a soft no. “Would just miss you more when I need to leave you.” Overhead the call for barding gets repeated, and she knows she has to leave in the next five minutes not to be this one passenger everyone needs to wait for. “Baby…” her hand strokes his cheek as tears finally slide down. “Don’t make it harder for me too.” She can feel her eyes water, too, but she blinks a few times to get rid of the threatening tears. “Come on one, pretty boy. Give her the kiss goodbye.” Derek approaches behind Spencer, clapping his back softly. She called him for support after she noticed that Spencer really having a difficult time with her leaving. She gives him a grateful smile before directing her gaze back at Spencer and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll call you when I’ll land, yeah?”
“And before bed and in the morning and…”
“I know, Spence. I’ll call at lunch too. Don’t you worry too much, yeah? It’s just a conference and some workshops. I’ll be fine. We’ll see us soon again, and it will feel like I never went away at all.” She gives him a smile, but Spencer feels differently. He misses her already, and he knows the next few weeks, he will feel even worse. But he nods, knowing it’s inevitable now. So, he leans forward to connect their forehead for a few seconds before he pulls her in for a deep, longing kiss. He tries to transmit his love and everything beyond through it, hoping that she knows exactly what he’s unable to say.
But his girl, his beautiful, wonderful star of a woman, smiles at him as if she understands exactly. For a last time, she presses a quick kiss against his lips with a whisper of goodbye and then… Then she’s gone. All Spencer sees is her flowing hair vanishing in the masses of people.
Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings: none
Series Masterlist // Masterlist
“Sweetheart. Doll, it's all right. I’m here." His hands keep their motions on my back, one coming up to run over my hair, softly pressing my head firmer against his chest to provide more comfort and possibly make me feel as safe as he can in that particular moment. He comforts me just like a child who had fallen off a bicycle, rocking back and forth, and strangely enough, I don’t mind one bit. I soak up every bit of him, every word, every touch, every smell, but I still can't calm down as much as I want.
It's impossible.
I’m too upset. The shock and fear swirl in my brain, letting no room for any other emotion or feeling. It’s as if a wall blocks my mind, impossible to climb or break down. Even though he’s here, reassuring me of my safety, the sounds are still running amok in my head, and thoughts circle back and forth without me being able to catch them. Dark eyes, whispering voices, looming footsteps. Flashes of knives in the moonlight.
Bucky’s voice is worried, strained, trying to sound calm for me, though I know he is anything else but calm. He probably is pretty upset, not really grasping how to help me. And maybe he’s feeling afraid himself, though for a whole other reason. He tends to panic when I do, but he’s better at masking it and calming down. His body is rigid and stiff with tension, yet his hands are gently against my body and skin. He smells so typically Bucky, woodsy with a mix of his deo and aftershave. Sweat mixes in from a long day at the precinct. The slightest smell of gunpowder comes to my mind.
Bucky pulls me even closer to his chest, hugging me tightly and pressing his lips to my temple. I don't let go of him, not even for a second, clinging to his shirt as if my life depends on it. And at the moment, it feels like it.
Somehow, I actually feel like a child, when he’s holding me like this, softly rocking back and forth, kissing my temple now and then, or stroking my hair. Given my profession as a therapist, you'd think I'd be more in control, but somehow, I seem to have a blockage. Getting so attached to Bucky is the only way for me to get some kind of peace and deal with the demon in my mind.
His hands slowly loosen from my body to slowly come up and cup my face. I whine as he leans back a bit, holding my face softly. He is careful as he lifts it from his chest so that I look at him. My vision is blurred with tears, making him a swimming mess. His thumbs gently perform a comforting dance over my cheeks, brushing tear tracks away. That gesture makes me feel a little better the longer he continues doing it. “Y/N. Look at me. I'm here. It's all right. Sam’s looking around, but so far, no one’s in the house. I still asked him to triple-check. Okay?” His eyes stay on my face, staring intently at me until I nod the smallest one I ever did. “Do you think it could have been a false alarm this time?” His eyes are gentle, knowing of the loaded question he asked. He never puts my feelings into question, and he doesn’t want now, I know that. But he needs to make sure every possibility is looked at. I can understand that. It still stings.
I stare into his eyes, hypnotized by their worried blue for a second. I hesitate for a moment, thinking about his question and what he said. It could actually have been a false alarm. At least I didn't hear anything suspicious in the house. Nothing I know doesn’t belong. Sure, there were the typical sounds of houses. Setting wood, crackling of devices, and so on. Well… I know that there was something unusual, like eyes watching me from somewhere, but there was nothing that indicated a difference. I nod timidly, still sniffling, before shrugging. The feeling from earlier is still there. I can feel eyes on me, mustering every inch of my body, as if it’s looking into my soul.
With his thumb, he rubs a tear out of the corner of my eye, and he smiles at me. It has a mix of sadness in it. He leans forward again and hugs me gently, giving me a kiss on the forehead, then on my lips. It’s just a quick peck, there to comfort me and provide a feeling of safety. I let myself fall forward, more into his embrace and his chest. “Okay.” One of my hands loosens its grip on his shirt but doesn’t lose contact altogether. I let it roam around him, coming forward to his chest, resting it between our bodies, right over his heart. His heartbeat is strong under it. I can feel each lub dub. The constant rhythm brings comfort and peace into my body that not even his voice can create. My eyes close on their own accord, and I concentrate solely on feeling him, his heartbeat, his life.
“Tell me what’s going on." His voice is soothing and composed. It seems to have only a slight tone of tension in it, and that makes me a little puzzled.
Why does he sound tense when he thinks it's a false alarm? When he’s sure and checked that no one’s in the house?
Bucky rustles a bit around, lets go of me for a bit to grab the rumpled duvet off the bed, and wraps it around my shoulders. I haven’t noticed that I’m shivering until the sudden warmth envelopes me. His arms come back around me, holding me tenderly. I sigh and put my head on his shoulder as he strokes my back. “I don’t know,” I mumble into his shoulder, way too silent to be heard if it wasn’t for his ear almost directly at my head. My tears finally let up, but I still sniffle now and then. “I-I woke up because… the rain, I think. I don’t… I don’t think there was something else. Maybe the neighbors cat.” My voice is still a bit shaky, but instead of focusing on it and my shivering, the fear still deeply residing in my bones, I try to focus on Bucky’s hands around me. “I turned back around and tried to go back to sleep. I almost drifted off, but... there was, well, how shall I put it? There was just a- a feeling."
“A feeling? What kind of feeling? Threatening?"
“Not really threatening. It was more like... like someone’s watching me. Here. In the bedroom. I don't know. Everything seemed perfectly normal. I couldn't hear or see anything that was somehow different, but… still. I had a feeling something was wrong. It scared me. But I didn't know what it was. I sat up and took a good look around. I even wanted to go through the house, but then I panicked." I take a deep breath. “Feels pathetic now.”
“No. It’s never pathetic to be afraid of something, doll.” Bucky knows that I have strange feelings. Strangely enough, he never seemed to be deterred after I told him, never acted as my ex-boyfriend did. He had portrayed me as crazy and, at some point, threatened to have me committed because the accident and death of my parents had left me with some damage. I still have nightmares about it, but these feelings aren’t a side effect of deep trauma. Bucky never put into questioning that he wants to stay with me. He often even relies on this feeling and always takes it seriously. From time to time, he involves me in his work, which was strictly forbidden, but he doesn’t care, always tells me that no one will ever find out, and if they did, he just puts me down as his therapist, which probably isn’t allowed either. He shrugs it off. Bucky gives me case files and asks me for advice. Mostly, I can tell him if I have a particularly bad feeling about a person or statements in the report, and somehow that seems to help him. I still have no idea how much help this is supposed to be, but he keeps asking me for my advice, so I figure it is enough. Sometimes it feels like I’m just confirming a suspicion he already has. However, when I have strange feelings at home, it is usually nothing serious. We shrug it off and have a good laugh, though before we do, we always investigate. But it was never like this. Never like I’m being watched.
"Okay. So, you looked around, saw nothing, and hid. I assume you called me directly, then? Did anything else happen after that?" His voice keeps gentle, hands continuing their pattern as I hear a door close downstairs and light footsteps on the stone floor. I shake my head and wipe my hair that clings to my tear-stained cheeks off my face. For a moment, we’re just silent, but then I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat and look at Bucky. “Hmm... After I hung up, I-I just sat in the bathtub. I guess I just imagined everything afterward. I thought- I thought I heard noises. Something like... door creaking, rumbling, or footsteps. Now that I think about it, the window looked like there were eyes.” My voice fades, and I see past Bucky into the hallway where Sam has reached our floor to look through the rooms. After a few seconds, I look down at my hand on his chest, where his heartbeat still drums a steady rhythm. "I can't tell you if any of this was real. Now, I doubt it myself." Suddenly the thoughts of my ex-boyfriend come to my mind. My hand on Bucky’s chest instantly tightens into a fist on his shirt, eyes panicky looking into his. My voice is urgent as I speak up next, hurried to get him to believe me and a bit too loud, causing Sam to pause in his steps to glance at us. "Bucky, I'm not crazy. I certainly wasn't imagining the feeling. It may have been delusions in the bathroom, but this," I gestured across the room. “I’m sure I wasn’t imagining it! There was something here.” My voice becomes a little softer and quieter again. He looks at my face and nods. “It’s okay, I believe you." He pauses, pushing me softly off his lap, and just keeps my legs on his thighs. His gaze swiftly flies to the hallway, where Sam waves before he disappears downstairs. Then Bucky directs his gaze back to me, softly takes my face in his hands, and leans forward so our foreheads touch.
"Okay, babydoll.” He leans back and presses a soft kiss on my forehead. The softness and warmth of his lips let me shudder a bit, and my eyes close on their own accord. “How about you get comfy on the bed, hm? Maybe snuggle up into my shirt or something and try to sleep. I'm going downstairs with Sam to talk about what to do now. I’ll be quick and bring some tea back up." For a second, I just stare shocked at him. Did he just suggest leaving me alone again?
Instantly my head shakes as vehemently as I can. I can feel a crack in my neck, but I don’t pay it any attention as panic floods me yet again, and I try to cling to Bucky again. “Sweetheart, I understand that you don’t want to be alone. But I need to talk with Sam.”
“No… please…” Bucky takes a deep sigh, his hands still cupping my face, staring at me as if he’s able to look into my soul. Sometimes I think he actually can. His deep blue eyes turn soft then, and he just takes me into his arms, swaying me from side to side, while pressing kisses all over my face. “All right, doll. Want to come downstairs, too, then? Just promise that you rest on the couch for a bit. I’ll make some tea and talk to Sam in the kitchen.” His head ducks a bit to have a better view of my face. “That way, I’m just a few feet away.” Tentatively, I nod, knowing that it’s a better option than staying upstairs all alone. The feeling still hasn’t left me, but the adrenaline is slowly fading, leaving me tired and exhausted.
He pushes my legs off him and stands up, immediately reaching for my hand, but I pull it back for a moment. "D-don't you want to look around, too?"
“What for? I already did when we arrived, doll. And I was in this room the whole time, with you. There's no one here. Besides, we would give Sam the impression we don’t trust him, and I really don’t want to make him cry now." A snort leaves me. It's unexpected but welcome because I actually feel a little light afterward. Bucky’s grin is indication enough that he’s pleased with his joke, so he leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I let my gaze wander through the room for a moment, then I, too, get up and finally take the hand he holds out for me. “We probably should get your robe, yeah? Won’t show Sam what he’s not supposed to see!” Bucky smirks and another small smile slips on my lips. It feels like it’s the first time in years. His hands gently pull the duvet off me, before he quickly runs into the bathroom to grab my robe. He helps me slip it on and carefully closes it before tying a small bow with its ribbon. A small giggle leaves me as his fingers tickle my sides, and as I look at Bucky, I can see happiness in his eyes, indicating that he’s incredibly relieved to see me smile again.Despite the summer heat, I grab the duvet again to take with me. I still feel some kind of cold with the adrenaline leaving, and the tiredness sinking in. The throw blanket on our couch won’t do anything to keep me warm. He holds my hand tightly as he guides me downstairs and to our couch in the living room, passing Sam, who waves with a small smile.
Bucky’s grip on my hand is not as tight to hurt, but still tight enough, so I can see how tense he is, even if he tries to hide it.
Immediately an alarm bell rings in my head, and my feeling tells me he knows something he isn't telling me. But I feel too tired to investigate. It probably can wait a bit.
