Like A Whisper In The Night Pt2

Steve: “Buck, stop! You’re going to kill someone!”

Bucky: “Bucky never meant to kill. Bucky only meant to maim or seriously injure.”

Sam Wilson in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) dir. Joe and Anthony Russo

Truth Hurts

Part One?

Bucky x Reader Angsty Short

A/N: Wrote this on a whim (hence why it’s so short) and might write a second part (because I have a backstory already thought out). Don’t know yet…

You sat motionlessly in the modern chair. You matched the stillness of your surroundings, remaining hidden in the shadows of the dark room. Footsteps echoed in the hallway and your eyes studied the closed door. Each and every scenario played out in your head. Your mind fixated on the worst, however you knew that wasn’t the case. No matter the man’s skills, you were better. You were faster. You lacked morality. You had to.

The footsteps paused for a brief moment before the door swung open. The lights switched on as the man entered his room and to the untrained eye, a knife magically appeared in his hand. You fought off a smirk knowing he had been carrying it around with him all day. A sense of assertion wanted you to laugh and steal the knife away, but you couldn’t. No emotions. Not with him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Confusion, anger, and pain were noticeable in his voice.

“Steve called me.” You remained still. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” He set the knife down; your eyes caught a faint glisten of metal under a midnight colored glove. 

“Moving on.” Your chest tightened and you adjusted your wording. “You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore, that’s behind you.”

“But-”

“No.” You sat forward. You knew every word you were going to say would rip and tear and shred yourself in his eyes, and in yours. But Steve asked you to do this, you were the only one who could. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes.”

“That’s not who I am anymore.” Bucky whispered.

“Get over it.” Your hands instinctively tightened around the armrests and your nails indented the plastic. “You killed people, so what? Yeah, that sucks, but they’re dead. They’re dead, James, you couldn’t stop it and you can’t change it. They’re gone, they can’t be brought back.”

His eyes were trained on the ground. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“And don’t give me that ‘but I did it, I killed them’ bullshit. Yeah, you did. You can’t change that, James! It happened, all you can do now is move forward. Because if you hadn’t killed them, we both know damn well someone else from Hydra would have.”

Tears formed in his eyes and you begged yourself to stop but you couldn’t. Sometimes you had to break a person to fix them.

“And you know what, you’re right. Everything, everything, that has happened is because of you. Hydra becoming what they did and infiltrating SHIELD? That’s because of you, that’s because of the Winter Soldier and everything you did as him. Howard’s death? You. The entire fall of SHIELD? You. Breaking apart the team and Steve losing his shield? You. This all happened because of you. Everything.” You shoved yourself up from the chair and walked towards the door. 

Bucky sat slumped over in his. His breathing was uneven and his hands covered his face. A few tears fell to the floor before he could stop them. His body shook as he took in another breath. An ache as sharp as a knife plunged into your chest and raced down into your stomach. Spots filled your vision and nausea swirled your mind. You stopped before leaving and steadied your voice before speaking the words that you had been waiting to say, ones that you knew would help him. 

“But without you…what exists now, what we all have now, happiness, admiration, teamwork, friendship, love…it wouldn’t exist. Without you, we’d be nothing.” 

Could I use this as a fic prompt?

Bucky rolls over to lay on top of you in the mornings to make sure you don't try and get up

and when you do it to him he pretends that he can’t get up even though you weigh like a feather to him 

Fluffy Friday™ 

chris evans is literally the most stereotypical straight man ever like he drinks beer and he’s from boston and he watches football and swears a lot but literally every single time he opens his mouth its like a signal for my gay ass to be like ‘THIS. is the only man i love’ and he could literally be talking about how he likes his dick to be sucked and i’d STILL be whipped just sitting there like ‘yes thats very profound’

The Merchant and the Soldier

Summary: Tony is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one. - In which Tony and Bucky have a solemn conversation in the early morning hours, and in which Tony struggles to hide his cruel urges and Bucky battles with his own broken mind.

"Of Glory, Honor, and the Road to Redemption" companion piece. (Does not need to be read to read this)

Link to series -> Of Glory, Honor, and the Path to Redemption

Warnings: confused state of mind, very brief mention of murder, suggested sociopath tony stark

Tony Stark is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

The others, they don't know this.

They see him as the world sees him; an egotistical man, even if that ego is valid.

It doesn't bother him most days. In fact, after Tony accepted he simply would never be friends with the rest of the Avengers, his life became easier.

The team thought him naive and childish, always pushing him away. Steve's pursed lips, Wanda's rolled eyes, Natasha's suspicious glares, Sam's grimaces. Barnes, of all people, actually tried to be amicable.. as amicable as a lost and feral soul can be.

But he had Pepper and Rhodey, and Happy and Gene. So quietly, wrathfully, Tony put distance between them, holding his head high and flashing that billion dollar smile.

Quickly he had settled back into his old routine.

Wake up (gasping), stumble (blearily), then settle (achingly) into his lab.

Invent (breathlessly); invent (tirelessly); invent (euphorically); until his legs give out and he collapses, once again thrashing in sleepless fits.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

They never noticed him, nor asked about him, unless something came up. It was alright. It was soothing. Between the White House, Wakanda, Stark Industries, SHIELD, and every terrorist from New York to Timbuktu, Tony really didn't have the energy to entertain backstabbing 'friends'.

The ignorance towards him quelled his ever present rage and helped him hide when he slipped up. When Tony lost control for a moment and everything rushed to a torrent between his ears, knuckles whitening, thoughts of revenge and vehemence urging him to kick them from his tower.

Eyes that judge never see the truth, and hands that are bitten eventually recoil. "But it would not be today," Tony tells himself calmly, with a smile, as he wipes coffee and shards from his hands. DUM-E beeps solemly, sweeping the remnants of a shattered mug away.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one.

What a joke.

I need a new bow.

Sigh.

My suit is torn.

Twitch.

Upgrade the helicarrier by next Friday.

Breathe.

Gala at 6, conference at 11.

Smile.

Don't you have somewhere else to be?

Calm.

Nowdays it seemed to be Doctor Doom and his stupid Doombots, terrorizing New York and Chicago. Cap would call for him and they would all meet for a few hours. Defeat Doom for a day, and retreat.

Sometimes.., sometimes Tony would consider just ending Doom.

Killing him.

Feeling the man's skull squelch between his armored fingers. Laughing estatically as blood seeped into the carpet..

The man's infuriating plans were novice, but still destructive. Yet if he did.. that, Tony would never leave his tower. What would be the point? It would be rare for civilians to even be injured during these fights, so it really wasn't that bad to let Doom live. Not with the original Avengers, sans Clint, Thor, and Bruce, plus Spiderman, Barnes, Ant-man, Vision, and the twins. Together they formed a formidable team. They had every twist, turn, bullet, and bounce fine tuned to a well oiled and righteous fist.

At night when the world is asleep, he stands with a glass of whiskey and stares out across the twinkling skyline.

One time, Barnes happens upon him.

The reformed assassin appears surprised. Of course, Tony thinks, what kind of nutter stands in the shadows like a statue.

"Sorry," Barnes croaks out, turning to leave.

"Don't be," Tony hums. "Want one?"

The taller man half turns to face him with confusion written across his face.

Tony clinks his glass.

"Oh.. uh.."

"Sure," Tony supplies. "Come here," he gestures.

The faint city lights illuminate James Barnes as the man steps forward tentatively, feeling cornered and uncertain.

"I won't bite,” the industrialist hums. It’s almost a giggle; humorous and childlike.

Pouring amber liquor into a crystal glass, Tony moves from the shadows into the dim lighting with grace. "Here."

Barnes stares at him. Eyes wide and blue like a puppy, and finally, Tony does not feel thunderous cruelty in his veins.

"I.. thanks." Barnes replies, carefully taking the glass.

Moments of silence pass between them, comfortable for Tony and eerie for Barnes, before the supersoldier can't take the strange interaction any longer.

"Can't get drunk," he grunts, eyes cast far away and beyond the city, likely reliving horrors unimaginable. "Serum stops it."

Tony quirks an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips. "Not even on Asgardian mead?"

Barnes shrugs, "Haven't tried it. Could-could you imagine a raging drunk Winter Soldier?"

Tony stills and Barnes thinks he never should have accepted the drink, until Tony's cackling, biting laughter explodes across the balcony and into the night. Barnes jumps for a moment, rattled, but still smiles a little.

"That'd be pretty bad," Tony laughs raucously, "HOO THA HEEEYL IS BUHKEE?" he grunts out in a gravelly baritone, pulling a sour face. He wheezes as he laughs.

Incredulously, Barnes gapes at the mans audacity before his own laughter bubbles up, long forgotten and disused. They collapse against the railing, giggling like children, and bask in a strange but shared moment of comfort.

Tony sighs as he leans against a pillar, "Fuck this place. Just fuck it."

Barnes, who is still leaning against the railing in a state of bewilderment, turns his head. Tony’s moods were giving him whiplash but he wondered if the man was always like this and he had just never noticed. "Are you drunk, Stark?"

"No," the darker haired man snorts. "I'd need another ten, maybe twelve of these to be."

Barnes contemplates him silently, unsure of how to reply. He needn't have bothered, though, as Tony powered on.

"Don't you get sick of them?" Tony spat, face crinkling in anger. "The 'team'. Above everyone else, all mighty and just. Anyone can throw a shield or a knife, shoot someone in the head, and pretend they're a hero. Guess the only difference is, sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren't."

The Soldier is stunned and uncertain of what to say. Words do not come easily to him anymore. They are foreign and rusted, and if he isn't careful, inflict as much damage as his vibranium fist. He chooses his words carefully, certain the genius is aware of their weight, and likely, a victim of the same scathing repertoire the media aims at himself.

"They aren't fond of you," he begins lowly, "Because of your intelligence." It comes off as more of a question, and to which Tony mutely shakes his head. "Or because you don't fall in line," Barnes offers, feeling a dusty resurgence of fear towards his prior handlers. It hits him like a train and he supposes, if it's true, then he hadn't left it all behind him after all.

Tony confirms it with a bitter grin, "Bingo, amigo," he hisses. "What use is a soldier if I don't follow orders like a good little dog. Problem is I'm not a soldier and they know it. Pawns of war aren't supposed to be variables."

Barnes stays quiet, bothered by this revelation.

"You know why Natasha doesn't like me?" Tony asks, draining his glass. "When she applied to SI, I knew who she was. You can't hide from me," the man hisses, fist clench dangerously tight around the crystal glass. Tony's tone rattles him to the bone, stoking his paranoia. It’s so unlike the officious and enthused man who usually blitz’s around the labs, and more like a man.. a memory, vague, comes to mind. Probably someone from the war. From Stevie.. 

Of course, Barnes knew all about Widow's espionage. He had read their files; studied scrupulously to confirm Steve's assurances that they are not in fact HYDRA.

"She knows that now, she must. I let her join Pepper. SHIELD wanted something and I was interested. Her report, as I'm sure you know," he spoke dryly, "Stated 'Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no.' Simple verbiage, clear intent. But what they overlooked is even simpler. I had a change of heart in Afghanistan- declared a symptom of PTSD, but SI was only the company. Those weapons came from here," he tapped his temple. "Natasha took too long to realise this. Now she is weary of me. Thinks I'm a loose cannon. Naive. But she doesn't understand. Without me, SHIELD would not have been resurrected. The bows, the arrows, the Widows bites, the jets. They are me and I am them. The suit can fly and fight, but it's little more than a drone with a detonator without me,"

"Then why do you stay?" Tony shrugs half heartedly, eyes set hard upon central park.

He hums. "Thanos is coming."

A shiver races down the taller man's spine, icy like the tundra, like his old bed, like 1944. "For Pepper."

"For Pepper," Tony nods, "And Gene, and Happy and Rhodey, and humanity. What is right is not often wanted."

They return to a quiet, solemn companionship. In which Tony muses over his nightmares, over Thanos, the gaping void in the sky, and the blood thrumming in his veins. In which Barnes feels hollow, and cold, and longs for warmth and acceptance, but falls short, always riddled with paranoia as he fights the voice in his head. Eventually as the stars start to wink out, one by one, and the traffic below grows louder, James Barnes straightens up and asks one final question.

"If we live," comes the hoarse, tired words, "What will you do after?"

Tony bites his lip, hand wavering, before he drops his glass off the side and watches it plummet two hundred stories to the alley below. "The same as usual, pumpkin. Smile, wave, and dance. That's my job. Why, you think we won't win?"

Barnes looks at him sideways, wondering how this walking paradox of a man can be so raw yet so confident. "No." He admits. "Loki called him 'the Mad Titan'. The wizard is scared."

Tony breaks a real smile for a moment. "Wizards. Yeah, well, Loki's scared of Gene, too. Giant pussy cat."

Barnes just shakes his head, turning away from the balcony. "How come you aren't scared?"

Tony is strutting off with his hands in his pockets when he shrugs, and Barnes can almost see the smile on his face. "Oh, honeybun. Don't you know? I'm the Merchant of Death."

IF HE DOES I’LL LIVE FOREVER LMFAO ,, Also should I write one shots?? Request characters for me.

Bingo Night

A/N: I got inspiration from that one post. 

Title: Bingo Night

Author: royalbluehues

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

You were a simple girl. You enjoyed reading, snacking, and the occasional weekly game of Bingo. Today was no different. Sure, people would laugh at you when you would tell them you attended these functions (mainly Tony), and maybe you were the youngest one in the whole room, but you’ve made plenty of friends because you convinced yourself you needed to surround yourself with good people. 

You have been waiting for a good hour for Mr. James Buchanan Barnes. Gladys, who was your partner in crime when it came to Partner Bingo Night (every other Friday at 6 o’clock), leaned over to whisper in a quiet voice. “Where’s Barney?”

“I don’t know Gladys,” you whispered back, “I think I’ll wait another five minutes and text him if he doesn’t show once Jim passes the second round of cards out.”

The 68 year old woman shook her head. “He’s intimidated.” She plucked off a piece of lint from her light pink sweater and folded her hands in front of her.

Gladys is totally right. He’s intimidated, it’s because he knows I’ll cream him. So, you waited. The large clock on the wall ticked with every passing second, the big hand moving agonizingly slow from the 4 to the 5. The buzz from your phone resonated on the plastic fold up table, making you jump. You picked it up, unlocking it quickly. The message that you read made you a huff in annoyance.

Doll, I don’t think I’m going to make it tonight. We just got back from a mission and I got shot in the arm.

“Was that Billy?” Gladys was leaning over your shoulder and squinting at your phone. Larry, who was a sweet old man in his late 50s, piled out some colored dots for you to use on your card. “Thanks Larry,” you muttered, turning your attention back to Gladys, “He canceled, Glad. He got shot in the arm.” You sounded annoyed, and your attention returned to your screen where you opened up the contact list.

“The coward.” Gladys remarked as she placed a red dot in the middle of her free space.

Jim, who was now standing in front of the room, announced that the game was starting.

You held the phone up to your ear as Larry began turning the drawing machine. You growled lowly, and opened your messenger.

“The first one is B18,” Jim spoke into the microphone, “B18.” Your tore your eyes from the screen and down to your card. You plucked up two dots, placing one on the free spot and the other on the B18.

You quickly typed into your phone and then set it down, focusing solely on the  the game. A change purse with a kitten on it was at stake, and you weren’t going to let Gladys or Marie take it from you.

Back in the tower, Bucky Barnes clenched his jaw tightly as Dr. Cho finished removing the large bullet from his arm. The pain was dizzying, and he held his breath until it was fully removed. The hole in his arm was throbbing, as Dr. Cho carefully placed it on a metal tray next to her. Tony was getting a few scratches on his head cleaned up, and Nat was resting on the chair was her head in her hand. The three of them had just returned from a mission in Colorado, where they breached a Hydra facility.

One of the goons that Bucky thought he knocked out ended up lodging a nice sized bullet into his arm.

“Did she ever respond?” Nat asked in a monotone voice.

Tony was waiting anxiously to hear what you were going to say. He knew you got very competitive when it came to Bingo, once recalling you claim you were the best that the Senior Center had seen in years. Dr. Cho was now stitching Bucky up, and with his free hand, he reached for his phone. Two notifications popped up, one missed call and a text message.

He unlocked his phone so he could see the message and a choking sound emitted from his throat.

Tony, perking up, pushed the hand that was dabbing his forehead, and grinned at the super soldier. “What did she say?”

“She called me a coward.” Bucky stared down at your message for at least a minute, not knowing what to respond as he typed in the beginnings of a ‘sorry’, but deleting it right away. Dr. Cho chuckled as she bandaged him up, Tony snorted, and Nat smirked. “How do I even respond to that?”

“She’s an old woman,” Tony cackled.

“Did you tell her you got shot?”

“Yes.” Bucky wanted to laugh. He’d make it up to you next week.

“When did she send it?” Tony asked, with a grin. Dr. Cho patted Bucky, letting him know she was done. She picked up her utensils and walked towards the elevator.

“About an hour ago.”

At that sentence, the elevator doors opened, revealing none other than you. There you were, standing in all your glory, chin up, and in your right hand, you clutched a small magenta gift bag with polka dot tissue paper. “Dr. Cho,” you nodded. You stepped out, switching places with the doctor, and stood dramatically in the center of the room, channeling your inner Susan Lucci from the Progressive Insurance commercials.

“Doll, I’m sorry-”

“You disgust me.” You hissed, squinting your eyes. Tony was laughing, almost falling over in his chair.

“Doll, I was on a last minute mission. And I sorta got shot,” He twisted his side to you could see the now bandaged wound. He knew that your jab wasn’t intentional.

“Then next time don’t get hurt.” You replied sassily.

You turned to Nat. “I won a change purse. It has a cat on it.”

Nat smirked and then looked at the super soldier. “Sometimes I think your girlfriend is the one who’s 100.”

You ignored Nat’s comment, and turned towards Bucky. “You’re making it up to me.”

Bucky nodded, “Already plan on it.”

You began walking towards him, leaning down so that your lips were barely touching. “Next Friday, at 6 sharp.” Your lips skimmed his, but slowly moved up to his ear. “Gladys sends her regards,” you whispered. You straightened back up, and gradually made your way to the elevator.

“Did she just quote Game of Thrones?” Tony asked Nat. Nat watched you walk away and nodded.

“Did you tell her? That I got shot?”

“Of course I told her. I tell her everything.”

“What did she say?”

“She’s the one that called you a coward. Goodnight, I’ve had a very stressful evening. I almost lost my prize to Marie. I’m going to bed.”

“It’s 9:30, babe.”

“It’s 9:30 and the bed’s calling me. G’Night.” You stepped into the elevator and the three superheros watched as you disappeared behind the doors.

“At least we know that she has her priorities set straight.”

I’m Bad At Love (But You Can’t Blame Me For Trying)

A WinterIron plot bunny idea I had and wanted to get out because I’ve seen Hanahaki Disease floating around my dash for a bit, and I couldn’t give up a good idea what I had it. I don’t feel like it’s a fully fleshed out enough fic to post on AO3, but I just like the concept. Bad At Love by Halsey inspired the title because fuck Halsey and her feels. (the aesthetic is mine)

Tony was four, the first time he caught Hanahaki. Four. And if that weren’t sad enough in concept, it was even worse knowing it was from his father.

Tony had just built his first circuit board. Worked on it for weeks, which to a four-year-old felt like a world of time and energy. But he’d finished it. And it worked. He’d shown Jarvis first, and the reaction from his caretaker had been one that lit up Tony’s world. Tony was sure, oh he was so sure, if Jarvis had loved it so much, his father would have at least liked it a little bit. Sure, he’d always been a bit distant with Tony, but Tony had worked so hard. He’d worked so hard.

But when his little hands thrust the circuit board toward his father, almost as if it were an offering, big brown eyes wide with hope, the only response he got was his father raising a hand to him, sending Tony and the circuit board down tumbling to the ground with one strike. It was then, lying on the ground at his father’s feet, Tony coughed up his first flower. He was too young to even understand what it was supposed to mean, he only knew that when his father crushed the flower with his foot as he walked away from Tony, Tony’s chest ached.

After that, Tony was conservative with his love. It took him even weeks to accept love from Jarvis, too afraid of being pushed away again. He eventually got over it, but he was still too skittish to love someone new, for the time being.

The first time it was a romantic love, was with Rhodey. Rhodey was amazing in every way, and Tony couldn’t help fall for him. And sure, Rhodey loved him back, he’d made that very clear, but the pinched look on his face the first time Tony coughed up flowers when Rhodey mentioned he was straight said it all. Platonic love wasn’t enough. At least, for Tony.

But Tony convinced Rhodey he’d be able to get over it, and he was, eventually. It took months, Tony even considered surgery, but eventually, he did really feel happy for Rhodey when he saw him with some girl and stopped coughing up those damned flowers.

At his parent’s funeral, someone had once asked Tony how he felt. His only response had been to stare at his mother’s gravestone with a heavy heart, then choke up a mouthful of flowers. It made sense, he guessed. She couldn’t love him if she was dead. There were good reasons Tony was an atheist. No one, not even his mother, could love him beyond the grave.

Tony wasn’t even surprised when it happened with Pepper. After Rhodey, Tony had given up on trying not to fall in love. Most of his crushes went as quick as they came, one of the main reasons they were never requited, Tony supposed. He was just bad at love. He couldn’t seem to make it last. Going back and forth between coughing up flowers and not; until Tony didn’t even bother paying attention to who was the cause. They wouldn’t matter in a few weeks.

But Pepper’s had lasted so achingly long. So long that Tony actually forced himself to go through with the surgery, only because he couldn’t handle the disapproving looks from Pepper every time he coughed up petals around her. It hurt, not only physically to have the flowers removed, but also emotionally. To have one of his most lasting loves ripped from his heart, just because he couldn’t contain himself.

He was just bad at love.

With Steve, it had been surprising. At least to Tony, anyway. Tony thought he hated Steve, detested every inch of his being. And Tony supposed he did, in some ways. But for reasons that couldn’t seem to stick. At least not the way his love did.

It had startled both of them when Tony started coughing up flowers when Steve had snapped out some insult at him. The look of disgust on Steve’s face somewhat reminded Tony of Howard’s reaction. It did, even more, when Steve stormed out of the room, crushing petals that had fallen to the ground with his step.

After Steve, Tony decided he would never fall in love again. It was a vain promise, sure, but Tony vowed to follow it, even if it led him to the grave. He didn’t want to ever have to deal with a mouthful of flowers again. To him, that’s all that love was.

Maybe that was the real reason it took him so long to realize he was in love with Bucky.

Sure, Tony hit it off with Bucky. More so than anyone had predicted they would, all things considered. The lingering touches, the flirtings, the inside jokes, the sweet laughter at two am.

Natasha was the person to bring it up to Tony.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” She asked one night over coffee when it was much too late for either of them to be drinking coffee.

Tony glanced up. “Nat, I’ve been over Steve for almost a year now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not Steve. Bucky.”

Tony frowned. “Haven’t been puking up any petunias lately, so nope, don’t think so.”

“You’d only have Hanahaki if it was unrequited, Tony.” She sipped her coffee.

“I-what?” Tony paused, staring at her. “I don’t-James doesn’t-”

“Tony.” Natasha cut him off. “You’re the only person in this Tower who calls him by his first name, and I’m positive he’d punch anyone else who tried. And same goes for him calling you Anthony. You look at him like he’s your moon, he looks at you like your his sun. It’s ridiculous how sappy you both are.”

Tony stared at her. “I don’t…”

“Hush.” Natasha flicked his head. “Ask him out for coffee sometime.”

“I can’t do that.” Tony stared at her with impossibly wide eyes.

“Why not?”

Tony blinked. He supposed she had a point. But grasping the idea that he had a crush on Bucky was… it felt impossible. Tony was so used to love and Hanahaki being bound together for him, one couldn’t exist without the other. The idea that he loved Bucky was barely overshadowed by the realization that Bucky loved him back.

Bucky loved him. Someone loved Tony. For once in Tony’s life, someone returned the affection he was so used to burning and withering away inside of him.

For that reason, Tony was terrified. Terrified he might get over this crush on Bucky as quickly as he had his previous crushes, and he’d leave Bucky just as hurt as others had left him. Tony couldn’t do that to someone else. He just couldn’t. Maybe Tony was bad at love, but he had to try.

“Okay. I’ll ask him out for coffee sometime.”

energy (part one)

  part two   bucky barnes x reader   word count: 2517   warnings: cussing possibly   a/n: hey! this is part one since it was really long and I didnt want people to get annoyed with the length! I don’t own anything marvel.

  “We don’t need anymore doctors on site.” Steve insisted. You sat in the corner of the room, jotting down notes as quickly as you could.

  You joined the team unofficially as their mission processor. You were in charge of how many paramedics and doctors you would have on hand, you kept track of all the supplies they took on mission, and exactly what team members were in the field and what team members stayed behind for backup.

  You didn’t mind whatsoever that you were never out on the field. In fact you liked the simplicity of the job. In reality, your only job was to be organized which was not a problem. It payed well and gave you a place to live. You had a room somewhere else in the compound and most nights were quiet.

  The only hard part was watching who went on the missions. And this one seemed a million times more serious than the last. You were looking at nearly a thousand soldiers with alien power control. Somehow the enemy got their hands on some of the alien tech from when Loki decided to pay Earth a visit and now, they had power, and numbers stacked against the Avengers. There wouldn’t be many if any people staying home this time.

  “Please, don’t go.” You whispered through the dark. You knew it was pointless to ask but you had to try. “You know I have to.” Bucky whispered back.  You had been in a relationship with Bucky ever since you were assigned as his rehab doctor. You spent months and months, patient every time, trying to get him to talk, adjust.

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