I figured it was time to update this since the last one was from years ago and there are so many new faces here now! If youâre new, hiiii and welcome! Iâm seriously so grateful youâre here. My DMs are open for all and everything. I love meeting and chatting with new people!
Like a lot of you, Iâm super passionate about reading and writing, and Iâd love to hear what kinds of stories youâd be excited to read.
Fun fact about me: I get randomly obsessed with fictional characters (donât we all??), and when that happens, I usually end up writing a bunch of one-shots or short stories about them. So if you see me suddenly posting a bunch about someoneâŚyeah, thatâs why
Current Fandoms that I am taking requests for:
Hunger Games (TBOSAS & SOTR)
Lord of the Rings (+ The Hobbit)
Harry Potter (Riddle Era, Marauders Era, Golden Trio Era)
Marvel (Any of them...I do loveeeeee Bucky though)
Criminal Minds (Mostly Hotch and Reid)
Twilight (Cullen Clan, Uley Pack, Black Pack
Please send in requests!! I get stuck for ideas sometimes, so Iâd love to hear what you want to read. Iâm always down to write some good angst, but Iâm just as happy to dive into fluff, hurt/comfort, or anything in between.
Feel free to be as specific or as vague as you likeâwhatever works for you! You can DM me, drop a comment, or use the ask boxâI'm open to it all!
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Introducing 'The Salt In Our Veins' by @AlexandraJean2410 on Wattpad
Currently ONLY on Wattpad (thinking about maybe putting it on Tumblr after I finish the whole thing).
Marella Reyes learned how to run long before she learned who she was.
After her mother's death, she disappears into a world that hunts her. She survives by chance until she meets Luke Castellan and Thalia Grace. For a while, survival is enough.
Then Camp Half Blood becomes home. Luke becomes everything. And Percy Jackson arrives with answers Marella never wanted.
Daughter of the sea. Sister to a hero. Bound to a boy who will fall.
This is a story about love before prophecy, loyalty after betrayal, and what remains when the gods finally look back.
Goes from before Season 1 of Percy Jackson and the Olympians to whenever it finishes.
Mari Reyes has spent her life waiting for her father to speak her name.
Instead, he answers Percy.
When her newly discovered brother is claimed by Poseidon and sent on a hero's quest, Mari stays behind at Camp Half-Blood, doing what she has always done.
She holds the camp together. She guards the borders. And she loves Luke Castellan, the boy who stayed when the gods did not and chose her long before fate intervened.
What no one knows is that long before Percy arrived, the gods whispered a prophecy about Mari and Luke.
It was never written down and never shared. It did not speak of monsters or war, only of a choice powerful enough to break the world.
As the gods begin to watch more closely, Mari finally understands the truth.
The prophecy was never about Luke's fall. It was about whether she could survive loving him.
The Salt in Our Veins (Wattpad Link)
Please check it out! I've been grinding it out since I've gotten re-obsessed with Percy Jackson!
Hello!! I was wondering if i could do a but of an odd request for SOTR where the reader won the games the year or two before and is Burdocks sister who after the games had to cut of her family (because Snow) but it didnt concern her too much because she didnât really get along with the family and they havent spoken in years and they didnt come see her before her games but when Haymitch is reaped Burdock begs her to bring him home and despite her being angry she does and her and haymitch and a love hate relationship then on the victory tour he finds out that she has been taking the brunt of punishments meant for Haymitch to protect him for his acts and after that he becomes a recluse so she doesnt have to take the punishments then after his family they fight and she tells him she was protecting him for his and her brothers sake and there is a bit of a confession the Haymitch has always had a crush on her. Feel free to change whatever youâd like and add as much as youâd like! Thank you!
Sunrise Over Ashes
Character: Haymitch Abernathy
Requested: Yes (I hope you like the fic)
Type: Angst w/ Fluff
****
You won the Games and lost your family in the same breath.
The moment your name was called, to them you were as good as dead. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, maybe it was fear, but to you it was the last straw. Especially when they did not even bother to see you before your Games. No goodbye. No last embrace. Nothing.
You were fourteen when you were reaped, and fourteen when you won.
No one from District 12 was ever meant to win. Making it into the top ten was considered a miracle. Taking the crown was unthinkable. And certainly not someone like you. You were small and sharp-boned, quiet in a way that unsettled people. The Capitol had been waiting for a future victor who was big and brutal, a boy with fists like hammers. Not a fourteen year old girl who did not look like she had an ounce of muscle in her body.
Because it shocked everyone so deeply, the Capitol decided to do something different with you. They called it rehabilitation. Snow called it necessary. And somewhere deep down, you called it freedom.
District 12 had never loved you much anyway. Not really. Not the way they loved your brother. Burdock had always been the good one, the easy one, the one people leaned toward without thinking. You, on the other hand, were sharper and quieter. You asked too many questions and noticed even more. After the Games, that kind of attention was dangerous.
So when you won, Snow knew exactly what to do with you. He wanted victors to seem untouchable, unrelatable, unreal. You were the example. When he suggested distance, silence, obedience, you did not fight it. You cut the thread clean. No visits. No letters. No looking back.
Your family made it easy. They did not try to contact you. Not before you were shipped off to the Capitol. Not after you won. Not even when you moved into the victorâs village.
It was easier this way, even if they never knew what it cost behind the scenes.
****
Life was fine. You were content, or at least as close to content as you allowed yourself to be. Everything sat exactly where it belonged. You lived alone in the Victorâs Village. You ignored the rest of District 12, and they returned the favor. No expectations. No attachments. Peace, fragile but real.
Then the next year came, and Haymitch Abernathyâs name was pulled from the bowl.
You did not attend the reaping. You did not have to. Victors rarely did, and since this was your first reaping since winning the Games, you gave yourself permission to avoid it. You told yourself it was self care. A day to stay inside. A day to breathe. The reaping would always bring the memories back, and you would have to face the tributes later anyway.
So you stayed home.
You sat at the small table in your kitchen, steam curling up from a bowl of soup as a Capitol soap opera flickered on the television. The colors were too bright, the smiles too wide. You barely watched it.
The pounding on your door came suddenly and violently enough to make you freeze.
You stared at the door for a long moment. No one ever came here. There was no reason for anyone to need you this quickly. Your escort would not arrive for hours.
With a quiet sigh, you set the spoon down and stood.
When you opened the door, the sight of Burdock stopped you cold.
He stood on your doorstep breathless, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were wide and frantic, the way they used to be when he was a boy running from trouble.
Your shoulders tensed immediately. âWhat are you doing here?â
Your mind raced ahead of your words. There was no way he had been reaped. Snow had promised. Your family would be left alone as long as you left them alone.
Burdock swallowed hard. âHaymitch. He was reaped.â
The words landed heavy and sharp, like a blow to the chest. His voice shook, desperation bleeding through every syllable.
You knew Haymitch. Of course you did. He had been glued to your brotherâs side since childhood, always loud, always laughing, always impossible to ignore.
You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing slowly. âOkay,â you said, even though your heart had started to race. âWhat do you want me to do about that?â
Burdock stepped closer, his hands twisting together. âPlease,â he said. âPlease. You have to bring him home.â
You stared at him, disbelief rising hot and bitter in your chest. Then you laughed, sharp and humorless. âYou came all this way for that?â you asked. âBurdock, you are asking the wrong person. So please leave.â
âYou are the only one who can,â he insisted. âYou are our first victor. You know how this works. You know what it takes to survive.â
âAnd in almost fifty years there has never been a District 12 victor,â you shot back, your voice tightening. âWhat makes you think two would win back to back? Especially during a Quarter Quell.â
He flinched but did not back down. âBecause I know you,â he said quietly. âYou are stubborn. You pretend you do not care, but you do. You always have. You survived the Games, and you are going to make sure he survives too.â
You clenched your jaw, looking away.
Barely, you wanted to say. You barely survived.
But Burdock was still standing there, eyes pleading, hope trembling on his face, and for the first time in years, you felt the careful distance you had built begin to crack.
*****
You hoped your first tributes would be easy. And you were way wrong. Your first year and you had four tributes. All of them were hard to control. You were all learning together.Â
But Haymitch was interesting to say the least. Haymitch was fury wrapped in sarcasm and self destruction. He hated the Capitol. He hated the games.Â
When you saw Haymitch after the reaping his jaw was set tight, his eyes scanning everything with open contempt. Then he saw you and froze.
âOh,â he said flatly. âItâs you.â
You met his gaze without blinking âCongratulations,â you replied. âYou survived the first step.â
Drusilla clapped her hands, âWhy donât we all board the train and get settled.â
Haymitch didnât move just stared at you. âYour first year mentoring and look, all four of your tributes are going to die.â
You stepped closer lowering your voice. âWatch your mouth.â
âOr what?â he snapped. âTheyâll kill me faster?â
Your expression did not change. âTheyâll kill you slower.â
And that got his attention. His lip then curled into a smirl. âSo youâre really one of them now,â he said. âCapitol pet. All polished up.â
You felt the familiar sting, sharp and unwelcome. This is probably what everyone from their district thought. Still, you kept your tone even. âIf you want to live, youâll listen to me.â
He scoffed. âI donât remember asking for your help.â
âYou didnât,â you said âMy brother did.â
And that landed. His shoulders stiffened and for the first time, he looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, rougher. âHe shouldnât have come to you.âÂ
âProbably not, but he did.â You agreed. âAnd here we are.â
âYou donât have to pretend you care,â he muttered. âI know how this goes. You give advice, I die, and you go back to your nice empty house.â
You sat across from him folding your hands in your lap. âIf you die,â you said calmly, âit will not be because I failed to warn you.â
He looked at you, âWhy are you doing this?â
âBecause I know what it feels like to be this young and already written off.â
âDonât get attached,â he said after a moment. âIâm not worth the trouble.â
You couldnât help but laugh, smoothing the wrinkles from your clothes. âThat is not your decision to make.âÂ
As you turned to leave, his voice followed you, quieter now. âYou really think you can bring me home?â
You paused at the door. âI brought myself home,â you said. âJust try not to get in my way.â
****
The training center was loud in a way that scraped at your nerves.
Metal rang against metal, trainers barked orders, and the air hung heavy with sweat and frustration. You stood just outside the circle Haymitch had claimed, watching him hack at a practice dummy like it had personally wronged him. His swings were wild and furious, driven by anger instead of precision. Every strike landed too hard or too wide, the blade biting uselessly into padding instead of the marked targets.
âStop,â you said.
Your voice cut cleanly through the noise.
Haymitch did not even look at you. He swung again, muscles straining, breath coming out in harsh bursts.
âHaymitch,â you said more sharply. âYou are wasting energy.â
The blade slammed into the dummy with a hollow thud. He finally turned, sweat dripping down his temple, eyes blazing with something close to hatred.
âOh, Iâm sorry,â he snapped. âAm I not doing it right? Should I smile more? Maybe theyâll like me if I look grateful.â
âThey do not need to like you,â you replied, stepping closer. âThey need to believe you are worth betting on.â
âI donât want their money,â he shot back. âI donât want their sponsors. I donât want any of this.â
âYou want to live,â you said calmly. âThat should be enough.â
His laugh was sharp and ugly. âEasy for you to say. You already got your miracle.â
The word miracle landed like a slap.
You felt it in your chest, a familiar burn you had learned to swallow whole. You moved closer still, careful to keep your posture relaxed, your expression neutral. Anger was dangerous in this place.
âDo not confuse survival with luck,â you said.
He shook his head, sneering. âThey loved you. Thatâs why you won. Tiny girl from Twelve who beat the odds. You were their favorite story.â
âThey did not love me,â you said quietly. âThey found me useful.â
He stepped toward you, invading your space. âAnd you really think youâre in control now? You think you beat them?â
Before he could swing again, you reached out and caught his wrist mid-motion. The blade stopped inches from your shoulder. His grip was strong, but your hold was steadier, your fingers pressing into the nerves you knew would make him hesitate.
âYou are going to get yourself killed,â you said lowly.
He yanked his arm back, face flushed, chest heaving. âThen maybe thatâs fine.â
The words were quieter, but they cut deeper.
âSay that again,â you demanded.
âWhy shouldnât I?â he shouted. Heads turned. Trainers paused. âThey already took everything. My future. My family. My life. At least I get to choose how it ends.â
âThat is not a choice,â you snapped. âThat is giving up.â
âYou donât understand,â he said. âYou walked out of the arena. You got to go home.â
Something inside you finally broke.
âI did not go home,â you said, every word tight with control. âI walked into another cage. One that does not let you bleed where people can see it.â
The room seemed to shrink around you.
âYou think I wake up grateful?â you continued. âYou think I do not remember every face I had to put in the ground to survive? I was fourteen. Fourteen. And they never stopped watching me.â
His expression faltered, anger giving way to something raw and frightened.
âI am here,â you said, lowering your voice, âbecause my brother begged me. Because I promised him I would bring you home. And though you might think I couldnât care less about them, you're wrong. And thatâs why Iâm here. Because he asked me.â
He stared at you, guilt and fear warring behind his eyes. His hands shook as he lowered the blade.
âI didnât ask for your promise,â he muttered.
âNo,â you said. âBut you are going to live with it.â
Silence settled between you, heavy and electric. The trainers resumed their work. The other tributes slowly looked away.
After a long moment, Haymitch bent down and picked the blade up again. This time, he adjusted his grip, copying the way you had shown him earlier. His stance shifted, less reckless, more deliberate.
âFine,â he said quietly. âShow me again.â
You nodded once, turning back toward the dummy. You did not let him see the relief that loosened your chest or the faint, dangerous hope that flickered there.
For the first time, the fight had ended not in surrender, but in understanding.
*****Â
They did not let you see him right away.
You stood in the sterile white hallway outside the medical wing, hands clasped behind your back so tightly your fingers ached. The air smelled sharp and clean, nothing like blood or smoke or fear, and somehow that made it worse. Capitol doctors moved past you without a glance, murmuring about stitches and internal bleeding and miraculous recoveries.
Miraculous.
You stared at the door at the end of the hall and waited.
When it finally opened, a nurse looked you over with something like pity. âYou can go in now,â she said. âBriefly.â
The room was too bright.
Haymitch lay in the center of it, swallowed by white sheets and humming machines. Tubes ran from his arms and chest, bandages wrapped thickly around his torso and head. His face was pale beneath the bruises, lips cracked, lashes dark against skin that looked almost translucent.
For a terrifying second, you thought he was already gone.
Then his chest rose.
You let out a breath you had not realized you were holding and moved closer, footsteps careful, like you might wake something fragile. Up close, the damage was worse. Cuts stitched poorly beneath layers of ointment. Burns mottled his hands. One arm was immobilized completely, wrapped and suspended.
You had trained him for this. You told yourself that over and over. Still, guilt settled heavy in your stomach.
âHey,â you whispered.
His eyes fluttered.
It took a moment for them to focus, glassy and unfocused at first. When they finally landed on you, confusion crossed his face, followed by something softer. Relief, maybe.
âDid IâŚâ His voice was hoarse, barely more than breath. âDid I make it?â
âYou did,â you said quietly. âYou won.â
A weak, disbelieving laugh slipped from him. âFigures.â
You pulled a chair closer and sat, careful not to touch him yet. You were afraid he might break if you did.
âThey hated that,â he murmured. âThe force field trick. You should have seen their faces.â
âI did,â you said. âThey were furious.â
He smiled faintly, then winced as pain cut through it. âWorth it.â
You shook your head, throat tight. âYou should not have had to be clever to survive.â
He studied you for a long moment, eyes sharper now despite the exhaustion. âYou knew I would be.â
âI hoped,â you admitted. âI never assume with the Capitol.â
Silence stretched between you, thick with things neither of you knew how to say yet.
âYou scared me,â you said after a moment. âMore than you should have.â
He swallowed. âI thought about youâŚand Burdieâ he admitted. âIn the arena. Every time I wanted to give up.â
You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time since the cannon had fired for the final tribute, you let yourself believe he was alive.
âYou did not get lucky,â you said firmly. âYou earned this.â
His gaze dropped. âTheyâre going to punish me for it.â
You did not deny it. âI know,â you said.
âThank you,â he said quietly. âFor not giving up on me. Even when I tried to.â
You covered his hand with yours before you could stop yourself. His skin was warm. Solid. Real.
âGet some rest,â you said softly. âYou are not done yet.â
His eyes closed, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. âNeither are you.â
As you sat there, machines humming steadily beside him, you understood something with sudden, aching clarity.
You had brought him home.
And in doing so, you had tethered your fates together in a way the Capitol could never fully sever.
****
He notices the patterns before he notices the bruises.
At first, it is timing. The way Capitol officials summon you at night, always after he has said something sharp on camera or refused to play along during an interview. The way you return hours later with your shoulders tight and your expression carefully blank. Too controlled. Too practiced.
He tells himself it is nothing. That this is just how victors live.
Then he starts noticing what you stop doing.
You no longer sit through his late-night rambling after interviews. You stop correcting his posture before cameras. You do not argue when he drinks. You watch him instead, like you are measuring something, counting something.
The first bruise he sees is small.
A fading purple bloom just above your collarbone, half hidden by the neckline of your dress. He catches it when you lean forward to adjust his tie before an interview. Your hands are steady. Yours always are.
His stomach drops.
âWhat happened to you?â he asks quietly.
You straighten immediately. âNothing.â
âThatâs not nothing.â
You meet his gaze, eyes sharp. âDo not ask me that again.â
The edge in your voice shuts him up, but it does not quiet the unease curling in his chest.
The second time, it is your wrist.
Wrapped in gauze. Poorly. Too tight.
He grabs your arm without thinking when you pass him in the hallway. You hiss softly before you can stop yourself.
Haymitch freezes.
âWho did this,â he demands.
You pull your arm free. âLet go.â
âTell me.â
You lean in, lowering your voice so the cameras at the end of the hall cannot hear. âYou broke a glass on stage,â you say calmly. âThey do not like it when you scare the audience.â
The words do not make sense at first.
Then they do.
âNo,â he says. âNo. Thatâs not how this works.â
You look at him with something like pity. âThat is exactly how it works.â
The realization hits him all at once, brutal and suffocating.
Every summons. Every late return. Every quiet flinch he pretended not to see.
âTheyâre hurting you,â he whispers. âBecause of me.â
You do not deny it. âThey would hurt someone,â you say. âI just make sure it is me.â
Something in him breaks. âI never asked you to do that,â he says hoarsely. âI never wanted that.â
âI know,â you reply. âThat is why I do it.â
His hands shake. He does not bother hiding it. âYou promised to bring me home. You didnât promise to bleed for me.â
âI promised my brother,â you say. âAnd I promised myself.â
He laughs, broken and sharp. âYou think this is protection? You think this saves me?â
âIt does,â you say quietly. âYou are still alive.â
The room feels too small. Too bright. He drags a hand through his hair, pacing like a trapped animal.
âTheyâll kill you,â he says. âSlowly. And Iâll be standing there letting it happen.â
âYou will survive,â you say firmly. âThat is the only victory that matters.â
He stops in front of you, eyes burning. âYou donât get to decide that alone.â
âYou donât get to decide this at all,â you snap. âYou are alive because you refuse to bend. Someone has to.â
Silence crashes down between you, heavy and merciless.
Finally, his voice drops to something raw. âWhy me?â
You hesitate. Just for a second. âBecause my brother came to me,â you say. âAnd because you deserve to live even if you do not believe it.â
He stares at you like he does not know how to exist with that truth.
That night, he does not drink.
The next day, he does not talk back during interviews.
The day after that, he stops smiling altogether.
*****
It does not happen all at once.
Haymitch does not announce it. He does not say goodbye. He simply starts disappearing.
The jokes stop first. Then the outbursts. Interviews become clipped, careful, painfully dull. When the cameras turn off, he does not linger. He does not drink with the others. He does not look for you in the corridors anymore.
At first, you think it is exhaustion. Then the summons stop.
No more late knocks on your door. No more carefully worded threats disguised as reminders. Days pass, then weeks, and your body begins to unlearn the tension it has carried for years.
That is when you understand. You find him on the train one night, sitting alone in the darkened dining car. No bottle. No audience. Just him and the hum of the rails.
âYouâre doing this on purpose,â you say.
He does not look up. âGo back to bed.â
âYou stopped provoking them,â you continue. âYou stopped being yourself.â
He exhales slowly. âI stopped giving them reasons.â
âYou think they wonât find new ones?â you ask. âYou think this ends it?â
âIf it buys you time,â he says quietly, âitâs worth it.â
Anger flares sharp and sudden. âYou do not get to make that choice for me.â
He finally looks at you then. His eyes are hollow, resolute. âI already did.â
You step closer. âYou are erasing yourself.â
He swallows. âIâm protecting you.â
âYou think isolation is protection?â you snap. âYou think turning yourself into a ghost saves anyone?â
âIt saves you,â he says. âAnd thatâs enough.â
The words hit harder than any accusation.
âYou cannot punish yourself for me,â you say. âThatâs not how this works.â
He stands, towering over you now, voice low and fierce. âYou taught me how this works. Every time I spoke out, they hurt you. So I stopped speaking.â
Silence stretches, unbearable.
âYou didnât have to,â you whisper.
âYes,â he says. âI did.â He brushes past you, leaving you empty and cold.
****
Burdock finds you the next morning.
You are in the kitchen of your Victorâs house, staring at a cup of tea you have not touched. He does not knock. He never does anymore.
âThis is your fault,â he says immediately.
You do not look up. âSay that again.â
âHe wonât talk to anyone,â Burdock continues. âHe wonât laugh. He wonât even come see me. Heâs shutting himself away like heâs already dead.â
Your jaw tightens. âHeâs alive.â
âBarely,â Burdock snaps. âAnd you let this happen.â
You stand slowly. âYou begged me to bring him home.â
âI begged you to keep him alive,â Burdock says. âNot to turn him into this.â
âYou think I wanted this?â you fire back. âYou think I wanted him hollowed out just so Snow would look the other way?â
Burdockâs voice breaks. âYouâre supposed to protect him.â
âI did,â you shout. âI am still doing it.â
He steps closer, eyes blazing. âBy letting him destroy himself for you?â
Something in your chest cracks open. âI never asked him to,â you say. âI never wanted him to see what they were doing.â
âBut he did,â Burdock says. âAnd now heâs paying the price.â
âSo am I,â you whisper.
Burdock falters, anger flickering into something like guilt. âThen why does it feel like youâre the only one who gets to decide who bleeds?â
You swallow hard. âBecause someone has to.â
The silence that follows is heavy and unresolved.
Burdock turns away first. âIf he breaks,â he says quietly, âI wonât forgive you.â
The door closes behind him.
You sink back into the chair, hands shaking, and for the first time since the Games, you allow yourself to wonder whether survival always costs more than it gives.
And somewhere down the hall, Haymitch Abernathy sits alone, keeping his promise the only way he knows how.
By disappearing.
****
The fire burns itself out eventually.
What is left is smoke and ruin and the sickening quiet that follows something irreversible.
You do not remember walking away from the house. Only that at some point the heat fades, the air cools, and Haymitch is no longer shaking against you. He is rigid now. Too still. Like something dangerous has settled under his skin.
You bring him back to his place. Neither of you speaks.
Inside, he paces like a caged animal, boots tracking soot across the floor. His hands keep clenching and unclenching, like he is fighting the urge to break something. Or someone.
âSay something,â you whisper finally.
He stops so abruptly you nearly run into him.
âNo,â he snaps. âYou donât get to tell me what to do tonight.â
âIâm not trying to control you,â you say. âIâm trying to keep you here.â
He laughs, sharp and furious. âHere? There is no here anymore.â
âYouâre still alive,â you say. âThat has to mean something.â
He turns on you then, eyes blazing. âIt means nothing. Not without them. Not without any of it.â
âYou donât mean that. You have people. You have BurdockâŚâ
âI do,â he says, voice rising. âI donât care about Burdock. I donât care about what he wanted or what he begged you to do. I did not survive that arena for him.â
The words hit hard.
âYou shouldnât say that,â you say quietly.
âI should say it because itâs true,â he fires back. âI couldnât give less of a damn about him or anyone else who thinks they get a say in what I do now.â
You step closer, heart pounding. âThen why did you survive?â
He stares at you like the answer should be obvious.
âBecause of you,â he shouts. âBecause every time I thought about lying down and letting it end, I saw your face. I heard your voice telling me not to be stupid.â
Your breath catches.
âI didnât survive for Twelve,â he continues, voice breaking into something raw and furious. âI didnât survive for my family or my brother or some idea of being brave. I survived because I love you.â
The words crash into the room, uncontained and dangerous.
âI love you,â he repeats, stepping closer now, hands shaking. âI loved you when you dragged me through training like I was a problem you refused to give up on. I loved you when you took the pain I deserved and never told me. I loved you when you looked at me like I mattered.â
Tears sting your eyes, but you do not look away.
âI am done pretending I care about anyone elseâs expectations,â he says hoarsely. âI understand why you pushed everyone away. They donât get us. They donât get what weâve been through. How we changed. I am going to push everyone away. Burdock. The Capitol. District Twelve. All of them. I donât care if they hate me for it.â
He stops inches from you. âBut not you,â he says quietly. âNever you.â
Your voice trembles. âHaymitch, that kind of isolation will destroy you.â
He lifts a hand, brushing soot from your cheek with surprising gentleness. âMaybe. But losing you already would.â
âYou canât build a life out of rage,â you whisper.
âNo,â he agrees. âBut I can survive it.â
Silence stretches, heavy and electric. âYou donât have to disappear for me,â you say. âYou donât have to burn everything down.â
âI already did,â he says softly, glancing toward the window where smoke still lingers in the night air. âThis is all I have left.â
You take his shaking hands in yours, grounding him. âThen look at me,â you say. âIf youâre going to stay, stay with me. Not just out of anger. Not just out of fear.â
His eyes soften just a fraction.
âI donât know how to love you without it hurting,â he admits.
You step closer until your foreheads touch. âWeâre victors,â you whisper. âPain was never optional.â
He exhales, something fragile breaking loose in his chest. âI donât care if the world burns,â he murmurs. âAs long as youâre standing with me.â
You close your eyes. âThen Iâm not going anywhere.â
And for the first time since the fire, since the loss, since the Games, Haymitch Abernathy lets himself cling to something without apology. Love, furious and ruinous and real.
And this time, he does not let go.
****Â
From the outside, Haymitch Abernathy is exactly what everyone says he is.
A drunk.
An asshole.
A victor who gave up trying to look like one.
He smells like cheap liquor and old anger. He slurs through mentor meetings, mocks the Capitol on camera just enough to stay alive, and barely pretends to care when new tributes are thrown into his arms. People whisper that he is a disgrace. That he wasted his miracle. That he could have been something better.
They are not wrong.
They are also not seeing the whole picture.
Because Haymitch is never alone.
She is always there.
Not hovering. Not correcting him. Just there, steady as gravity. Sitting at the edge of the room during mentor briefings, hands folded, eyes sharp. Walking a half-step behind him through the Capitol corridors, ready to catch him if he stumbles, ready to disappear if he does not.
They do not touch much in public. Not in ways that cameras would notice. But Burdock sees the small things. The way Haymitch angles his body toward her without thinking. The way she always knows when he has had enough and steers him away before things turn dangerous. The way he listens to her when he listens to no one else.
When Haymitch drinks too much, she takes the bottle away without a word. When he snaps at an escort, she smooths it over later. When he says something that earns a Capitol glare, she is the one summoned.Â
Burdock knows what that costs.
The Games took the first piece of her when she was fourteen. They took Haymitch a year later. And then, slowly and methodically, they took everything else.
They took Haymitchâs family in fire and smoke. They took her chance at ever being untouched again.
What remains is this strange, broken partnership the Capitol never quite understands.Â
Haymitch does not protect anyone anymore. Not the tributes. Not District Twelve. Not Burdock. But he protects her. In the only ways he has left.
He keeps his worst rage aimed outward so it never turns on her. He makes himself unapproachable so the Capitol looks past her first. He leans into the stereotype, lets them believe he is careless and ruined, because ruined men are easier to control.
And through it all, she stays.
She does not ask him to be better. She does not ask him to stop drinking. She does not ask him to forgive the world that burned them both alive. She simply chooses him, again and again, in quiet ways that matter more than promises ever could.
Burdock watches them on reaping days.
Haymitch is cruel and drunk and impossible, barking orders at children he knows will probably die. The crowd hates him for it. Burdock hates him for it, sometimes.
But she stands at his side, eyes never leaving the tributes, absorbing the weight he refuses to carry anymore.
When the ceremony ends, Haymitch does not go home with the crowd.
He waits for her.
Always.
They walk back together, not touching, not talking much. Just two figures moving in sync through a district that no longer knows what to do with them.
Burdock knows he should resent her.
She was supposed to bring Haymitch home. She did. And in doing so, she lost him in a different way. Burdock lost them both to the Games. To the Capitol. To survival that looks nothing like living.
But when Burdock watches her steady Haymitch on the steps of the Victorâs Village, hears him mutter something sharp only for her to answer softly, sees the way his anger eases just a fraction when she is near, he understands something painful and true.
The Games took the two most important people in his life.
They hollowed them out. Scarred them. Bent them into shapes that no longer fit the world they came from.
But at least they have each other.
In a place built to isolate and destroy, they chose to stay.
And that, Burdock thinks, might be the bravest thing either of them ever did.
Summary: The final moments leading up the 75th Hunger Games pt2.
Part 1: Here
Part 2: Here
Part 3: Here
Hi my loves, apologies for the major delay! I hit a rough patch of writer's block and lost my creative momentum for a while. I'm focusing on being much more consistent going forward!
Your comments honestly mean so much to me. When the teaser dropped, I was flooded with notifications and completely overwhelmed by the love and excitement around this story. Iâve been playing with the idea of turning it into a full series, and since I also write on Wattpad, I might take it over there and explore it more deeply. Weâll see where it goes lol
Anyways thanks for hanging in there and I hope you enjoy!
*****
For most of your life, you imagined the ways you would die. In a world where the Capitol chose two children every year and called it justice, death was never a distant idea. It lived with you.
When you were reaped, those thoughts stopped being quiet. They became screams that tore through you, waking you in the night, following you even when you were awake.
After you won, the dreams did not stop. They only changed. You dreamt of the deaths you wished had taken you instead.
Now you are thinking about it again, about how it will end. This time you will not face it with strangers, but with your friends, the people you love as family.
There is a bitter cruelty in surviving only to be asked to keep surviving, in learning that victory never meant escape at all.
You couldn't even blame Katniss. The Capitol had always planned to destroy the victors. Now they simply had an excuse.
Sleep never really came that night, but you had not expected it to. You lay awake with the weight of every what if pressing down on your chest.
What if you had never been reaped. What if you had died in the Games. What if you had never volunteered. What if tomorrow was the day it finally ended.
Your thoughts drifted to District Five, to the people who whispered your name in their prayers.
To your parents, who had already learned how to mourn a child who still breathed.
To your friends, the ones you were being asked to fight.
To Mason, who would choose you even at the cost of his own survival.
To Cash, a sister in another life.
To Finnick, who might have been spared so much if death had claimed him earlier.
To Mags, who spent decades trying to save the children of her district only to watch them die, or worse, live and lose themselves.
Even Katniss and Peeta, children carrying a revolution they never asked for.
And Haymitch. The one you wished you had been given more time with.
You did not know how the Games would end, but you knew one thing with terrible certainty. You were not going to make it out alive.
The only mercy you could hope for was timing. You hoped death would come quietly, when no one was awake to watch it happen.
Maybe then your parents would not have to see the light leave your eyes.
Maybe Haymitch would be spared the sound of a heart stopping again, another love lost to the Capitol.
You prayed it would be fast. You prayed it would not hurt. You even found yourself praying that it would come from the hands of someone you loved, because at least then it would be gentle. At least then it would be human.
The guards came for you in the morning. You barely registered the sound of their boots. You had cried yourself empty through the night, twisting in the sheets, choking on sobs until there was nothing left in you to give.
When the sun rose, the tears stopped. You felt hollowed out. You could still cry if you let yourself, but you would not. You would not give them that satisfaction.
When the guards stepped away and left you alone to change, the silence pressed in. That was when you noticed your hands. They were shaking so badly you had to curl them into fists, like you could hold yourself together by force alone.
"Y N?â
âEffie?â Your voice barely worked. âWhat are you doing here?â
âIâm with Peeta,â she said, hands twisting together like she was afraid they might shake apart. âBut I needed to see you first.â Her smile tried to appear and failed halfway through. âHaymitch wanted to come.â Her eyes flicked to the floor. âI told him it would only hurt you both.â
You nodded. The image hit you anyway. Haymitch standing in the doorway, seeing you dressed like this, knowing what it meant. Knowing he had already lived this ending once before. You could not survive watching him break again. âThank you,â you whispered.
âYou donât have to thank me.â
âYes,â you said immediately. âI do.â The word came out sharp, desperate. âYou stayed. When everyone else didnât.â Your chest tightened. âYou took care of him. You took care of those kids. You kept showing up even when it was unbearable.â Tears slipped free. âAnd I know I donât have the right, but I need you to promise me something.â
Effie stilled.
âHeâs going to fall apart,â you said. âMaybe not all at once. Maybe not where anyone can see it. But he will.â Your breath shook. âI need you to be there when he does. I need you to keep him standing. For the kids.â Your voice broke. âHe will listen to you when he wonât listen to anyone else.â
Effieâs eyes filled instantly. âOh, my dear,â she whispered. âYou should not be worrying about him. You should be worrying about yourself.â
âThere is no self left,â you said quietly. âNot after this.â
She made a sound then. Small. Broken. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around you like she was trying to hold you here. âYou and Haymitch deserved more,â she sobbed into your shoulder. âYou deserved a life. Quiet mornings. Growing old.â Her grip tightened. âThis isnât fair.â
âI know,â you murmured. âBut itâs done.â
You pulled back just enough to look at her. âJust promise me youâll keep him sober. Keep him angry if you have to. Anything but gone.â Tears blurred your vision. âProtect the kids. Even from him.â Your voice dropped to almost nothing. âEspecially from him.â
Effie nodded, crying openly now. âI promise.â
You held up your pinky. It felt childish. Sacred. Necessary.
She linked hers with yours, trembling. âPinky promise.â
The knock at the door made your heart jolt painfully against your ribs.
âI have to go,â Effie whispered. âI need to send Peeta off.â
âGo,â you said, forcing a smile that felt like it might tear your face apart.
She hesitated, then rummaged through her pocket. âI almost forgot.â She pressed something warm into your hand. âI gave everyone something gold. To remind us we were a team.â Her voice wavered. âAnd you are part of that. You always were.â
She placed it in your palm carefully, like it was something that could break.
A gold chain. Not flimsy. Not decorative. Something meant to last. At the end hung a small emblem, warm from her hand.
You stared at it like you did not understand what you were seeing. âA goose,â you whispered, and your laugh came out broken around a sob.
Effie nodded, swallowing hard. âHe talks about it all the time. About wanting to raise a whole flock with you.â Her voice cracked. âHe says the first one will be calledââ
âSunny,â you said softly.
The word hit you like a bruise you forgot you had. You closed your fingers around the chain, felt the weight of it, the cold of the gold against your skin.
âWhenever we were together,â you said, voice trembling, âwe used to just⌠stand in the sun. Like if we let it touch us long enough, nothing else could.â Your eyes stung. âThe heat. The warmth. It felt like something the Capitol couldnât reach.â
Effie pressed a hand to her mouth. âThatâs beautiful,â she wept.
âHe used to say the reapings and the Games would happen no matter what,â you whispered. âSure as the sun would rise tomorrow.â You looked down at the chain again, at the goose, at the bright gold that felt almost cruel in its beauty. âBut heâs wrong.â A tear slipped free. âThis time is different.â
Another knock, louder.
You clutched the chain tighter. âThe sun isnât rising for them,â you said, voice barely holding together. âItâs rising for us.â
Effie nodded, tears slipping freely now. âGold doesnât fade,â she whispered. âNeither does love.â
Your breath shattered. âAnd I love you all so much,â you said, the words breaking out of you in a laugh that hurt and a sob that would not stop.
âAnd we love you too,â Effie said at once.
Her eyes drifted to your chest, to the thin chain already warm against your skin. The ring hanging from it caught the light. Effie swallowed hard, then looked back at the heavier gold resting in your palm.
âThis oneâs stronger,â she said quietly. âIt wonât snap.â Her voice trembled. âSo you donât have to worry about losing it.â She could not bring herself to say where.
You threaded the ring onto the chain with shaking fingers. The metal clicked softly, a tiny sound that felt enormous in the quiet. You pressed it to your palm like you could press it into your skin, like you could keep it there forever.
Effie made a sound that wasnât quite a sob and wasnât quite a breath.
Another knock, final.
âI have to go,â she whispered again.
âI know.â You swallowed hard. âThank you. For everything. For him.â Your voice broke. âHeâll never say it, but youâre the best friend heâs ever had.â
Effie collapsed into you one last time, arms tight, desperate. âIt has been a pleasure,â she cried, âY/N Abernathy.â
When she pulled away, her face was wrecked. She tried to straighten her posture anyway, like she could still be your escort, like she could still make this manageable, like she could still make it pretty.
She turned, and you heard her try to swallow her sobs as she rushed out.
And when the door shut, you were alone with the chain in your fist and the ring against your skin.
You shook yourself, forcing your mind back into place. There was no time to fall apart now.
You pulled your hair into a tight ponytail, hands steady only because you willed them to be. Then your gaze dropped to the chain resting in your palm.
You lifted the thin chain from around your neck, fingers brushing the ring that had never left your skin.
Carefully, almost reverently, you slid it onto the heavier gold chain. The ring slipped down until it rested against the goose emblem, metal touching metal. Something about it made you smile, just barely. Like a reminder that even here, even now, you were still loved.
You took a slow breath and looked around the room one last time. Then you tightened your ponytail again, squared your shoulders, and stepped onto the hovercraft. You sat down without speaking.
A guard stopped in front of you. âYour arm.â
You stared at him for a beat too long before holding it out. The needle pierced your skin. The tracker burned as it went in, sharp and unpleasant, but you barely reacted. Pain felt distant. Manageable.
After that, everything blurred. The world turned blue and hollow, like you were underwater. Voices washed over you without meaning. You could not focus on anything long enough for it to stick. You were terrified. There was no use pretending otherwise.
It was not going to be easy. But you had a purpose. No matter the cost, you had to keep Katniss and Peeta alive. That was the job. That was the promise.
When the hovercraft landed, you followed the Peacekeepers without resistance. Their boots echoed as they escorted you down the hall and into a small room. The door slammed shut behind you, the sound final and unforgiving.
âSixty seconds until launch.â
The voice hit you like a memory you did not ask for. Suddenly you were young again.
Small. Standing in another room just like this one. For a fleeting moment, you wanted to run. To bolt for the door and keep going until your lungs gave out.
But no one ever made it far. And you could not leave behind an empty space where you had been. Not for them.
You stepped into the tube and closed your eyes.
You tried to force yourself back into the same headspace as the last time. The one where survival still felt possible. Where hope was something you could cling to. But the truth pressed in too quickly, too heavily. This time was different. This time, you already knew how it would end.
You were not walking toward survival
You were running toward your death.
So you stopped trying to pretend otherwise.
The platform shuddered beneath your feet and began to rise. Your stomach dropped with it. This was it. The final movement. The last moment before everything else was taken from you.
You opened your eyes, trying to slow your breathing, but your heart refused to listen. Darkness swallowed you first. Then light exploded around you, so bright it burned behind your eyes.
When your vision cleared, warmth crashed over you. Thick. Heavy. Almost suffocating. Trees stretched high into the sky, green and endless, while water surrounded the platform on all sides. It felt unreal. Beautiful in a way that made your chest ache.
You swayed slightly, disoriented, staring out at the water like it might swallow you whole. You turned to your right, desperate, searching for something familiar.
Mason.
He was not there.
Your throat tightened painfully. To your right stood someone from District Nine. To your left, Enobaria. She gave you a soft nod before looking straight ahead.
You scanned the area again, your pulse roaring in your ears. Everyone was scattered. Isolated. Platforms spaced just far enough apart to make reaching anyone impossible. Faces filled with confusion. Panic. The terrible realization setting in all at once.
âLet the Seventy Fifth Hunger Games begin.â The words slammed into you like a sentence being read aloud. You tried to steady your breathing. Failed. âMay the odds be ever in your favor.â
You searched again. Mason. Katniss. Peeta. Anyone. But the water and distance swallowed them all. âTen.â Your hands trembled violently. âNine.â You forced them still.
âEight.âYou curled your fingers into fists. âSeven.â Your hand found the chain at your chest. Six.âThe familiar weight grounded you for half a second.
âFive.â You kissed the ring. Then the goose. Metal cold against your lips. âFour.â Haymitchâs face flashed in your mind. His voice. His hands. The way he looked at you like you were something he did not deserve.
âThree.â You wondered if he was watching. If he was already breaking.
âTwo.â You inhaled deeply, the breath shaking in your lungs.
âOne.â The cannon fired.
You dove into the water without hesitation, without looking back, leaving the platform behind as the water rushed up to meet you.Â
The last thing you felt before it swallowed you was the weight of the chain against your chest and the certainty that there was no turning back.
*****
Author's Note:
Yâall, I wasnât completely sure how I wanted to play the Games, which is why I held off on starting them. This update is shorter than what I usually post, but I hope you still enjoyed it. I had so much fun writing this and cannot wait to continue.
Pleaseeee continue commenting, it actually is my highlight!
ALSO PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A TAG OR IF I MISSED YOU BY ACCIDENT!!!!!
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holy crap⌠âa pawn once moreâ is a 1000/10! like why am i really tearing up? i was wondering if youâd ever add onto it cause if you did i EAT that up. no crumbs left. like i just know it would be heartbreaking being in the games and the outcome would have to be wild.
I just realized that itâs been almost 7 months since I updated A Pawn Once MoreâŚyâall Iâm so sorry
I had a whole writerâs block but donât worry the SOTR teaser brought me back
Maybe tomorrow yall will have something so definitely stay tuned đ
Also if yall want to be added to the tag list be comment below!!!
Thank yall again for being patient! Love yall so much!
Hello, I saw your writing about Bucky x ex-wife and I loved it. Could you please do something that involved the reader as Valentina's daughter. She and Bucky would be married and would have a little girl under 2 year old. Lilian Barnes-De la Fontaine, or Lily, Valentina's precious granddaughter who would be like Edna Moda from The Incredibles. After the end of the movie, everyone goes to the country house that Bucky and the reader shared. The reader would be a former government agent and former Avenger, being Natasha's friend.
What Comes After War
Character: Bucky Barnes
Requested: Yes! I'm slowly but surely going through all the requests. I'm sorry it's been so late.
Type: Angst/Fluff
Summary: Married to Bucky Barnes and raising their daughter, you thought the fighting was over until your mother had other plans.
Bucky Barnes had lost a great deal in his lifetime his arm, his friends, his freedom, his innocence. So much of what had once made up his world had been stripped away, piece by piece, until all that remained was the man trying to survive the weight of it all.Â
And yet, through every fall, every relapse, every headline and mission and whispered accusation, there was one thing he never lostâŚyou.
You stood by him, unwavering, even when it wouldâve been easier, safer not to. When he came to you with the truth about your motherâs plan, his voice heavy with guilt and hesitation, you didnât turn away.Â
As much as it hurt, you chose Bucky. Again and again, you chose him.
You first met him in the heat of chaos back when Steve and Natasha were hunting the Winter Soldier. And then, somehow, fate or perhaps something far more reckless led you to cross paths again, this time on opposing sides of a war between friends. You were with Natasha, loyal to your team, yet something deep in your chest cracked the moment your eyes met his across that battlefield.
You felt it, that unexplainable pull. That connection that shouldnât have been possible. And you knew, somehow, that he felt it too.
So you went looking for him. Quietly. Carefully. Until you found yourself in Wakanda. And there he was, half-healed, quiet, a man trying to be whole again. You stayed. What started as a friendship built slowly, deliberately, into something stronger, steadier. Something real. Something that felt like home.
The years that followed werenât easy. You stood beside him through the exhausting grind of his pardon, the scrutiny of his congressional campaign, the nights when the past clawed at him.
You were there through every public smile and private breakdown, through whispered doubts and promises spoken in the dark. And you were still there when he took on a god-like threat your mother created.
And then, somehow, it was over.The chaos, the secrets, the near-deaths, and the half-truths that had colored your lives for so long finally behind you.
At least, thatâs what you told yourselves.
That was the moment it all unraveled.
Your mother, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, in all her perfectly controlled, press-trained glory stood in front of a wall of flashing cameras, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, and uttered the words that would change everything:
âMeet the New Avengers.â
Just three words. Thatâs all it took.
The moment the broadcast cut off and the cameras were shut down, the silence in the room was deafening.
For a breath, no one moved. No one spoke.
And then you did.
âWhat the hell, Mom?â Your voice cracked the silence like a whip. You stood there, eyes wide, hands clenched at your sides as you tried to wrap your head around what had just happened. âWe are not the New Avengers. Weâre not even a team. How could you just decide that for us?â
âWell, thatâs not what a few hundred thousand people on the internet are currently tweetingââ
âShut up, Mal,â you snapped without even looking at her. Your focus stayed locked on your mother. Everyone else fell silent.
âYou know how deeply fucked up this is, right?â Your voice shook, not from fear, but fury raw, hurt, personal. âYou knew what the team meant to me. What being an Avenger cost me. You knew, and you still went and did this. Without our consent, without even telling us, and in front of the entire goddamn world.â
Valentina tilted her head, her expression softening in that way that only ever made you feel more cornered. âPlease, sweetheart. Donât you miss it? Donât you miss being the woman you used to be? Powerful. Untouchable. Out in the field, saving lives, leading missions you canât tell me you didnât love it.â
You took a slow step back. Something in your chest cracked. âNo,â you said, quieter this time, but with far more weight. âI donât miss it. I have a family now. A daughter who needs me. A husband whoâs already given more than anyone ever should. I have a life, MomâŚsomething youâve never made room for in yours.â
There it was. The sting. You saw it hit her and just for a second her lips pressed together and her posture stiffened ever so slightly. But before she could answer, you turned and walked out away.
And for a while, no one moved.
ââŚOuch,â Alexei muttered under his breath, drawing a chorus of glares from the rest of the team.
John cleared his throat awkwardly and looked around. âSo, uh⌠what are we supposed to do now?â
Thatâs when Valentinaâs voice cracked just barely. âBucky⌠please.â
It wasnât commanding. It wasnât sharp or calculating or laced with manipulation like most things that came out of her mouth. It was low. Raw. Almost pleading.
The team collectively turned to look at Barnes, surprised to see her of all people look to him for help.
But Bucky didnât answer right away. He just exhaled slowly staring at the space where you had been standing moments earlier.
He understood more than anyone what you were feeling, what it meant to be used, to be chosen for something you didnât agree to, to have your agency stripped away by people who believed they were doing what was best. And he knew this hurt even more coming from your mother.
Buckyâs arms were folded tight across his chest, jaw clenched like he was holding back every word he wanted to say and only letting out what needed to be said.
âShe needs space,â he said finally, voice low and deliberate, each word carefully measured. âYou ambushed her on live television. You didnât give her a choice. And if you know her at all, Val, youâd know thatâs the one thing sheâll never forgive.â
Valentinaâs mouth opened like she might push back, but then she caught the look in his eyes. Something in it stopped her cold. She closed her mouth, her expression flickering, but she said nothing.
Bucky exhaled slowly and pushed off the wall. His gaze swept over the rest of the group, still stunned, still silent, still waiting for someone to tell them what the hell to do next.
âThereâs a lot we need to figure out,â he said, his voice softer now but still edged with that unmistakable weight he carried. âBut not here. Not right now. Weâre all tired, weâre all probably bleeding somewhere.â
âIâm hungry,â Alexei offered helpfully, only to grunt as Yelena elbowed him in the ribs.
Bucky rolled his eyes. âKnowing Y/N, sheâs probably stress-cooking something she swears is âtherapeutic.â Thereâll be food.â
The team exchanged uncertain glances. It was clear now they were looking to him whether they meant to or not.Â
He groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. âJust⌠get in the damn van. Donât talk. Donât argue. Donât touch anything. Weâll sort it out when we get there.â
As the others moved toward the vehicle like reluctant kids on a field trip, John muttered behind a cough, âBossy.â
Buckyâs glare shot over his shoulder. âSay that again, Walker, and youâre walking.â
John raised both hands, conceding without another word.
Alexei started veering toward the front passenger door until Bucky grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back without a word.
Bucky opened the driver-side door, then paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder at the woman still standing in the hallway.
âVal,â he said, not looking at her. Just the name, cold and clipped. âGet in the car.â
Then he climbed into the driverâs seat and slammed the door behind him.
Valentina stood still for a moment longer, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. And yet⌠there was the faintest curve to her lips. Barely a smile. More like an echo of one.
She straightened her coat, composed her face, and walked toward the van. It wasnât a victory. But it was something.
By the time they pulled up the long, winding drive, the van had gone quiet. The country house came into view just as the trees thinned, sunlight catching on the pale blue siding and wraparound porch like something out of an old novel.
A white picket fence framed the yard, an actual picket fence with tiny flower beds blooming stubbornly despite the season.
The van doors creaked open one by one as the team stepped out, blinking into the warm light.
âHoly hell,â Ava muttered, taking in the house. âItâs like a Norman Rockwell painting had a baby with Pinterest.â
âIs this a safe house?â John asked, blinking. âBecause this feels⌠very unsafe. Emotionally.â
Bucky stepped out last, letting the gravel crunch under his boots. He didnât say anything at first just stared up at the porch like it was a secret heâd never expected to share. It was the dream.
His dream. The one he thought heâd buried somewhere back in 1943.
Unlike the rest of the team, he got it.
He turned back to them, arms crossed, face stone-serious. âAlright, ground rules,â he said. âNo arguing. No touching anything. And if youâre bleeding, donât ruin the carpet.â
Ava rolled her eyes. âSo⌠same rules as before.â
âWait, but can we talk this time? It was silent in the van and I canât do that again.â Bob asked, genuinely confused.
Bucky didnât even blink. âYes, you can talk. Just use your indoor voices. That includes you, Alexei.â
âI HAVE a very soft inside voice,â Alexei protested, loudly.
Bucky just gave him a long, deadpan stare before turning and opening the front door.
The house welcomed them with warmth. Actual warmth. The kind that smelled like cinnamon and clean linen and something baking faintly in the oven. The floors were hardwood, the walls a soft cream, photos lining the hall real ones. Family ones. You, Bucky, and your daughter.
For a moment, none of them moved.
âItâs⌠so normal,â Ava whispered.
âFor an ex-Avenger and a reformed murder machine, this is aggressively wholesome,â Yelena added, eyes wide as she took in the fireplace, kids drawings pinned to the fridge, and a tiny pair of rain boots by the door.
They moved farther into the house, voices low and full of hesitant awe. The kitchen buzzed faintly with the smell of tomato sauce and something sweet and beyond the living room was a small play area filled with soft toys and building blocks.
âOh my god,â Alexei said suddenly, pointing toward the stone chimney. âHe has a fireplace. Does Santa Claus come here? Do you do Christmas? I want to light the fire!â
Bucky snapped his fingers. âNo fires. No touching. No, anything, unless you want a time-out like a misbehaving five-year-old.â
âDo I get snacks during the time-out?â Alexei asked.
Before Bucky could respond, there was a sudden patter of little feet quick, determined, chaotic.
Thenâ
âDAAADAAAAAA!!â
A blur of curls and giggles launched itself from the hallway at top speed.
Lily.
Wearing a tutu over leggings, one sock, a blanket tied around her neck like a cape, and a sticker on her forehead, she barreled across the hardwood floor in the unsteady gallop only a toddler could manage.
Bucky barely had time to crouch before she collided into his arms with full-force toddler enthusiasm, wrapping herself around his neck and squealing with delight.
He caught her with practiced ease, lifting her into the air and spinning her once just once, before settling her against his chest. His face, so often locked in that grumpy older-man scowl, softened in a way most of the team had never seen.
âHey, sweetheart,â he murmured, kissing the side of her curly head. âYou hear Daddy yelling?â
She nodded furiously, tiny fingers gripping the collar of his shirt. âNo yelling in-da house,â she said with stern toddler authority, eyes wide.
He smiled. âYouâre right. I broke the rule. Iâm sorry.â
Lily beamed, arms wrapped tight around her fatherâs neck like a tiny, tutu-wearing koala. And the second her cheek pressed into Buckyâs shoulder, his entire body softened, shoulders relaxed, jaw unclenched, eyes crinkling with warmth he rarely let anyone see.
âThereâs a baby soldier,â Alexei whispered, almost reverent.
Yelena rolled her eyes. âShe looks like sheâs two, not a KGB sleeper agent.â
âSame thing at that age,â he muttered.
Lily peeked out from the crook of Buckyâs neck and noticed the small crowd in her living room strangers, tall and loud and new. Instantly, her boldness shrank. She burrowed deeper into her fatherâs hoodie like a shy little mouse.
Bucky adjusted his grip and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. âItâs alright, Lils,â he murmured gently, rubbing her back in slow circles. âCome say hi to some friends.â
Friends was a stretch. But she didnât need to know that. He stepped closer to the team, shifting Lily so she could peek over his shoulder.
âThis is Alexei, Yelena, Bob, Ava, John, andââ
âNANA!â Lily suddenly squealed, exploding into excited grabby hands.
Valentinaâs face lit up in pure surprise and joy the cool, calculating woman theyâd all known melted in an instant as she rushed forward and took Lily into her arms with practiced ease.
âMy beautiful girl,â Valentina whispered, kissing her granddaughter all over her cheeks. âYouâve grown so much.â And she had. Lily was the perfect blend of both her parents â eyes, your smile, and more personality in one sparkly sneaker than half the team combined.âSay hi to Daddyâs friends,â Val coaxed, stroking her curls.
Lily looked over Valentinaâs shoulder at the group of strangers in the room and gave a tiny wave, followed by a shy little âHiâŚâ that instantly disarmed every hardened assassin and battle-worn operative present.
Bob clutched his chest. âI think I just had a heart attack.â
âI didnât know Bucky Barnes was capable of producing joy, especially one this adorable,â Ava whispered.
âI need to sit down,â John muttered.
âShe waved at me,â Alexei said proudly. âShe likes me.â
âNo one likes you,â Yelena deadpanned.
Just then, your voice floated in from the hallway.
âWhen I walked away, it meant I wanted to be alone,â you said, folding your arms, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips. Youâd cleaned up since the earlier blowout, changed clothes, hair tied back, face calm. Still, your eyes sparkled the second they landed on Lily.
Bucky turned toward you, one brow raised, mouth tugging into the smallest smile. âBy the way the house smells, I think part of you was hoping for company.â
You rolled your eyes with a small laugh. Then your gaze found your mother holding Lily.
Val took a cautious step forward. âY/Nââ
âMom, donât,â you cut in, gently but firmly, arms crossed again. âNot today.â
Val nodded once, the sting in her eyes well-hidden behind a diplomatic smile. You glanced at Lily, who now rested her head against Valâs shoulder like she belonged there. It twisted something in your chest, but you pushed it down.
âRight now, I want a glass of wine, some actual food, and only good vibes,â you said, voice calm but commanding. Val didnât argue. She didnât even try. You turned to the team, hands on your hips, a small but genuine smile creeping in.âLasagnaâs in the oven. Should be ready in twenty.â
The team blinked like youâd just offered them tickets to paradise.
âHomemade lasagna?â Bob asked, his voice cracking.
âOh, this is a trap,â Ava whispered. âWeâre gonna be poisoned.â
âSpeak for yourself,â Alexei said, already moving toward the dining room. âI will fight for pasta.â
âDo you need help setting the table?â Yelena asked, only half-sarcastic.
âOnly if you can manage it without stabbing someone,â you quipped.
â...no promises.â
~~~~
The team had slowly started spreading out across the living room in various states of exhaustion. They were all full from dinner.
Yelena curled up on the armchair with a throw blanket and a bowl of grapes that she claimed she needed as a dessert. Bob and Ava sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to beat each other at a half-finished card game. John sprawled on the couch, nursing a glass of something suspiciously non-water, while Alexei loudly snored with his head tipped back and mouth wide open nobody had the heart to wake him.
But the real show was on the rug.
Bucky hadnât moved in a while still flat on his back, one arm slung lazily across his chest, the other now cradling a very sleepy Lily. She was curled up like a cat on his torso, little fingers tangled in the fabric of his henley, blinking up at him with heavy eyes.
No one in the room was talking anymore. The sight had quieted them. Lily reached up and gently squished Buckyâs nose with one hand. âBoop,â she whispered, barely awake.
Bucky chuckled softly. âBoop back,â he murmured, tapping her tiny nose with his finger.
âSheâs gonna rule the world,â Yelena whispered with a smirk.
âShe already does,â Ava replied, eyes soft.
âBarnes,â John called across the room, voice hushed. âYouâre a complete marshmallow.â
âYeah?â Bucky grunted, not even looking at him. âSay that again and Iâll throw you into the fire pit.â
Lily giggled sleepily.
âYou wouldnât,â John said, smirking.
Bucky finally glanced up, steel blue eyes sharp. âTry me.â
John held up his hands in surrender. âFair enough.â
Valentina sat quietly at the edge of the room, watching her granddaughter with awe. That little girl was a piece of you. A living, breathing reminder of everything she'd never fully understood about her daughter⌠and everything she still longed to be part of.
She loved that little girl more than she ever thought possible. And for once, Val didnât see legacy or strategy just family. She knew sheâd messed up. The New Avengers had been her attempt to stay connected to you, even if it meant forcing it. She wanted to be part of your life. For Lily. For you. Even if she had no idea how to begin.
You stepped out from the hallway with a cozy knit blanket and crossed to where Bucky and Lily lay. You knelt beside them, laying the blanket over both their bodies. Lily instantly turned to burrow against you, one hand still holding onto Buckyâs sleeve like a lifeline.
âShe out?â you asked softly.
Bucky nodded. âMostly. Fighting it. Sheâs stubborn.â
âWonder where she gets that from,â you teased.
âPretty sure itâs the Barnes side,â Bob said without looking up.
âDefinitely,â you smirked.
Bucky smiled faintly and leaned his head toward yours. âSheâs the best of both of us,â he said softly, only for you.
You brushed Lilyâs curls back from her forehead and leaned in to kiss her temple.
âYeah,â you whispered. âShe really is.â
The moment lingered, quiet and safe. Lilyâs breathing evened out, and her grip on Buckyâs shirt finally loosened.
You looked around at the team, surprisingly still, still respectful. Valentina gave you a slight nod from across the room. Maybe things would never be perfect between you. But thisâŚthis could be a start.
You glanced back down to see that Bucky was still looking at you that quiet, unwavering gaze. âI missed this,â he murmured, voice low and real.
You reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. âMe too.â
His thumb brushed over your knuckles slowly. âCanât believe theyâre all here.â
You huffed a soft laugh. âTheyâre crazy, but not the worst. Lilyâs basically adopted a dozen aunts and uncles overnight.â
Bucky gave you that rare, crooked smile the one that used to make your knees weak. His hand moved to Lilyâs back, resting there like instinct.
From the corner, someone coughed loudly.
John. âWow. So many emotions. Should we all leave or just⌠pretend to be asleep?â
âShut up,â Ava muttered, launching a pillow at his face without looking.
Bucky didnât even blink. He just closed his eyes, his daughter nestled against him, your hand in his, surrounded by the quiet hum of laughter, muffled conversation, and a warmth he hadnât known he could have.
A family he never asked for. But one heâd never let go of.
You can find the fandoms I'm currently taking requests for right here: Requests
As I write more, I'll probably tweak the format a bit, but for now here it is! Enjoy!
Requests are OPEN!
Marvel
Bucky Barnes Fics
Chuck Taylors & Emotional Damage:Â Slightly unhinged? Perfect. Turns out super soldiers love that. (AJ Lee Inspo)
The Quiet Between Us: Falling for Bucky was easy. The silence after? That's what hurt the most.
The Cost of Sides: You and Bucky seem to be on opposite sides
Everything's Just Perfect: You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.
In the Middle: Being caught in the middle is always hard.
You Caught Me: You're Valentina's assistant, and somehow, you manage to fall in love with a certain Congressman.
What Comes After War: Married to Bucky Barnes and raising their daughter, you thought the fighting was over until your mother had other plans.
Hunger Games
Haymitch Abernathy Fics
A Pawn Once More (2) (3): Haymitch has spent years hiding his love for the one Victor he couldn't lose. Then the Quarter Quell changes everything.
Silver Springs: The tragic yet beautiful love story of a District 12 Victor and a Capitol Princess.
Bread, Stew, and Tears: After Snowâs Quarter Quell announcement, you turn to cooking for comfort, but this time, even that canât save you.
Finnick Odair Fics
The President's Daughter: Arianna Flemings-Snow, adopted daughter of Coriolanus Snow, volunteers for the 75th Hunger Games. But stepping into the arena means facing more than just danger; it means surviving alongside the man she loves.
The President's Daughter (2): Training Day
Criminal Minds
Spencer Reid Fics
My Girls: Six years ago, Spencer Reid vanished on his wedding day, leaving Eleanor Black behind in her dress. Now, a case drags him back to Vegas and straight into the past he thought he left behind.
Silver Springs: A murder case brings Spencer face-to-face with his ex. She's the victim. The past isn't dead after all.
Children of the Dark: The BAU investigates brutal family murders in Denver. For Agent Y/N, the case digs up a past in foster care she tried to bury.
Aaron Hotchner Fics
Bubblegum Bitch: Hotch never thought he'd fall in love again until he met Y/N.
Celebrities:
Tom Blythe Fics
Interruptions: Tom Blytheâs girlfriend, Amelia Burkhart joins the cast of The Ballad of the Songbirds and Snakes as Sejanus Plinthâs girlfriend.
Requested: No I just had to get this out of my chest to finally stop the writer's block that I've been having.
Type: Angst/Fluff
Summary: Youâve always been a little off your rocker, but lucky for you, a super soldier happens to find that irresistible (inspo: AJ Lee returning to WWE lol)
A.N: Y'all it's actually been a very very long time. I can't even make up an excuse. Again time is soooo fake and I'm so so sorry. Anyway, I will get back to all the requests I've received over the last few months I promise.
Also A Pawn Once More will continue very very soon...
Thank you all for your support always!!!
Meeting
You and Yelena became close in therapy, she was grieving her sister, and you were there thanks to a court order. Trauma bonding at its finest.
Between late-night drinks, shared tears, and the occasional act of barely-justified violence, the two of you stitched yourselves together through the cracks. When the world got quiet, you were each otherâs noise.
But when she joined the New Avengers, you took a step back. She needed stability, people who were whole, or at least pretending better than you could. So you disappeared, deciding she deserved more than a chaos addict with a thing for Chuck Taylors and throat-punching creeps in alleyways.
Then today happened. Her birthday. And of course, she begged. Begged for you to come out, just for one night, just for drinks with her shiny new team at some bougie bar near the tower.
You tried to say no...really, you did, but youâve never been good at denying Yelena anything. Especially not on her birthday.
So you laced up your battered Chuck Taylors, still stained from a questionable alley fight two weeks ago, and headed to the address Yelena texted you. You debated ghosting the whole thing until the very last minute. But here you were.
The moment you stepped inside the bar, the scent of leather, whiskey, and expensive cologne hit you...definitely an Avengers-frequented place. You didnât even get a chance to scan the crowd before you were nearly tackled.
"Y/N!" Yelenaâs voice cut through the music like a knife. She wrapped her arms around you like she hadnât seen you in years, and honestly? It had felt like that. "Iâm so glad youâre here. Itâs been too long."
You grinned against her shoulder and hugged her back just as hard. "Happy birthday, Lena. I got you something." You handed her a plain black gift bag, tissue paper hastily crumpled at the top.
She peeked inside, gasped, and pulled out a sleek pair of collapsible nunchucks with matte black handles and custom engravings.
"Oh my god...these are the nunchucks I wanted!" Her voice was pure chaos and glee. "Iâve missed you so much, weâre doing shots later."
"Only if you donât cry this time."
"That was one time, Y/N!"
She laughed and slung an arm around your shoulder, dragging you toward a round booth filled with... the team. You felt them clock you the second you walked in six pairs of eyes and six levels of suspicion, amusement, and curiosity.
Yelena stopped in front of the table like she was presenting you to royalty. Or a firing squad. Could go either way.
"This is Y/N," she announced proudly, like she was showing off her favorite feral raccoon. "Y/N, this is John, Valentina, Bob, Alexei, Ava..." She gestured to each of them with casual flair before finishing, "And thatâs Bucky."
You gave a little wave. "Really excited to officially meet you all."
John gave a polite smile that didnât quite reach his eyes. "You the one who broke a guyâs nose with a pool cue at OâMalleyâs last summer?"
You shrugged. "Allegedly."
Valentina tilted her head, assessing you like you were an interesting weapon she might use or dismantle. "Yelena's told us a lot about you. I didnât think you'd actually show up."
"I get that a lot."
Bob raised his beer. "Anyone who gets Yelena nunchucks is cool in my book."
Alexei immediately pulled you into a too-tight bear hug. "It is amazing to meet the friend of my little Yelena. She has been moping without you. You are welcome in this family."
Ava just nodded silently, but you noticed a ghost of a smirk on her lips.
And then there was Bucky.
He hadnât said a word. Just leaned back in the booth, blue eyes scanning you with a kind of lazy curiosity. Not judgmental, just observant. He took in the scuffed shoes, the leather jacket, the chipped black nail polish, and the way you didnât flinch under their collective scrutiny.
"You always bring people weapons on their birthday?" he asked finally, voice low and smooth, with just the slightest edge of humor.
You turned your eyes to him and smiled. "Only the people I like."
Something flickered across his face, an almost-smile, quickly hidden behind his glass. "Good to know," he murmured, before taking a sip of his drink.
You felt Yelena nudge your ribs with her elbow and smirk. "Heâs not usually this talkative."
You glanced back at Bucky, still watching you over the rim of his glass like he was trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.
"Guess I bring out the best in people," you said casually, sliding into the booth beside Yelena, directly across from the former Winter Soldier.
"So," John said, setting down his beer, "Yelena says you used to run with some...colorful crowds."
"Colorful is one word for it," you replied, reaching across the table to grab one of the whiskey shots already waiting for you. "I prefer 'functionally unhinged.' Has a nice ring to it."
"More like âlegally questionable,ââ Yelena added with a grin. âShe used to keep a bat in her trunk. Named it.â
"It was called Justice, and it never let me down."
Ava let out a soft snort of laughter, surprising even herself. "Okay, I like her."
Valentina raised a brow. "Sheâs got main character energy. Just chaotic main character energy."
You leaned back in your seat, smirking. "What can I say? Therapy didnât fix me, just made me better at hiding the crazy."
That earned a few laughs around the table, some genuine, some uncertain.
Except Bucky. He didnât laugh. But he did watch.
Still leaning back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the booth, he didnât bother hiding the way his eyes tracked you, curious, calculating, intrigued.
"So whatâs your deal, Barnes?" you asked suddenly, locking eyes with him across the table. "Silent brooding type, or are you just allergic to people like me?"
A flicker of something crossed his face. He shrugged one shoulder. "Iâve met worse."
"Thatâs not a no."
"Itâs not a yes, either."
Your grin widened. "Mysterious. I like that."
Yelena groaned from beside you. "Oh no. Not this again. Donât flirt with the emotionally repressed super soldiers, you have a type, and itâs embarrassing."
She wasnât wrong.
Youâd been with your fair share of people. Yelena always said you were obsessed with men. You always told her you just loved love. Each broken heart (or broken nose) was just one chaotic step closer to finding your forever person.
"Itâs not a type," you shot back, reaching for another shot. "Itâs consistency. Big difference."
Bucky let out a low chuckle under his breath, shaking his head as he looked away, but not before you caught the shadow of a smile tugging at his mouth.
And just like that, you felt it again.
That familiar spark. The dangerous kind, the one that made your heart race, your smile stretch a little too wide, and your inner chaos stir like a storm about to break. That wild, reckless part of you that didnât want to behave. That wanted to lean in, test limits, press buttons just to see how far they'd go.
But right before you could say or do something unmistakably you, something impulsive, flirty, or borderline regrettable, Yelena caught your eye.
She gave you that look. The one that said: donât.
It wasnât mean. It was protective. She knew behind all that crazy, you had a soft heart. And she wasn't going to let anyone, not even her teammate, hurt you.
So you bit back the grin, reined in the crazy, and leaned back in your seat instead...just a little closer to Bucky than before.
First Nickname
Since Yelenaâs birthday, youâd been spending more time at the Tower. What started as occasional visits had turned into something more permanent more real. The team, in all their dysfunctional glory, had slowly started to feel like... family.
Which explained why you were currently knee-deep in chaos, in the middle of a full-blown cookie dough war with Yelena and Bob, making an absolute disaster of the kitchen.
Flour hung in the air like smoke. Cookie dough was smeared across the counters, the cabinets, and somehow the ceiling. Yelena had frosting on her cheek, Bob was covered in a cloud of white, and your hoodie was officially a biohazard.
âWeâre definitely going to have to clean this up,â Bob said, grinning wide just as a fistful of flour exploded across his chest.
âIâm literally trying to bake,â Yelena laughed, ducking as a glob of dough whizzed past her head. âYou two are ruining my masterpiece.â
âCorrection,â you said, grabbing a handful of chocolate chip batter with zero remorse, âIâm enhancing the experience.â And then, grinning wickedly: âNew rule, whoever ends up the dirtiest has to clean the whole kitchen.â
Without hesitation, you launched your next fistful of cookie dough at Bob, cackling like a madwoman, only for him to duck at the last second.
The dough flew right past him and landed smack on the chest of a very unsuspecting super soldier.
Bucky.
He stood frozen in the doorway, jaw tight, arms crossed, cookie dough now sliding down the front of his dark Henley.
He closed his eyes slowly, inhaled, and exhaled through his nose like he was counting to ten. When he opened them again, his glare settled on the three of you.
Yelena immediately turned back to her bowl, stirring like her life depended on it. Bob began aggressively wiping the counter.
You? You smiled the biggest, most unapologetic smile in your arsenal and skipped over to him like you were walking on sunshine.
âHi, Buck,â you chirped sweetly, reaching out to âcleanâ the mess from his chest. âDonât worry, Iâll take care of it.â
You dabbed at the dough, but it just smeared more across the fabric. Not that you minded. Your hand lingered longer than necessary, your fingers tracing the muscles beneath the sticky mess.
Buckyâs hand shot up, gently grabbing your wrist firm, but not harsh. You looked up at him with a raised brow and a grin that said: guilty and loving it.
âIâm guessing this was your idea?â he asked, voice low, clearly trying not to smirk.
âWhaaaat? Me? Nooooo.â You batted your lashes, then winked. âCan I have my hand back, or were you planning on keeping it?â
He stared at you for a moment too long, really before releasing your wrist with a faint shake of his head.
You flashed him a triumphant smile.
Turning back to the others, Bucky sighed. âPlease clean this up. Iâm going to the store, do you guys need anything?â
âOh! Milk. I like cookies with milk.â Bob chimed in cheerfully.
Bucky gave him a look that said youâve gotta be kidding me, but eventually sighed and nodded. âFine. Milk.â
You perked up. âWait! Iâll come with. Just give me five minutes to change.â Without missing a beat, you leaned up on your toes, kissed his cheek, and skipped out of the kitchen leaving a stunned super soldier in your wake.
Bucky stood motionless, his hand slowly lifting to touch the spot where your lips had landed.
A pointed cough broke him out of it.
Bobâs mouth was hanging open. Yelena was smirking like the devil.
âSoooâŚâ she drawled, folding her arms. âIs this your first crazy girl, or is this like... a pattern for you?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â Bucky muttered, but he was still touching his cheek.
Moments later, you returned wearing one of Yelenaâs oversized hoodies, black leggings, and that same mischievous energy you wore better than any outfit.
âOkay, ready! Letâs go, hot stuff.â You tossed a playful wave to the others before bouncing toward the elevator.
Bucky followed, shaking his head but undeniably amused.
The grocery run had been surprisingly normal. You only tried to sneak three unnecessary snacks into the cart, and Bucky only vetoed two of them.
Now, the two of you were walking back to the car, bags in hand, the late afternoon sun casting golden streaks across the pavement. You were mid-rant about how almond milk was a scam when you heard it.
"That's him. The Winter Soldier."
The words were whispered, but sharp. Like glass. You stiffened slightly.
"Isnât he the one who murdered, like, a dozen people?"
"More than a dozen. And guess what? They let him into the Avengers."
"What?! Why would they let him walk around like a normal person let alone a hero?"
Bucky didnât react. Didnât flinch. Didnât turn. He just kept walking, jaw tight, face unreadable. He was used to it.
You were not.
You stopped walking.
"Excuse me?" you called out, eyes narrowing as you turned toward the group of strangers huddled near the curb. "You got something to say?"
They blinked at you, surprised. One of them smirked. "Just facts. Maybe you should Google him before going shopping with a killer."
Your blood boiled. Your hands clenched at your sides. And thenâ
You lunged.
Buckyâs vibranium arm caught you mid-air like it was nothing, scooping you back against his side as your legs kicked at the air and your hoodie swung like a cape behind you.
"Let me go!" you snapped, wriggling. "Iâm just gonna talk to them. With my fists."
Bucky was laughing softly, barely suppressing his grin as he turned you around and started guiding you toward the car.
"Okay, Crazy," he said under his breath. "Letâs get you back home."
You glared at the group over your shoulder, jabbing a finger in the air. "You better run! Next time I bring my bat and it's not for baseball!"
They clearly werenât expecting the outburst. One guy looked like he was seriously reconsidering all his life choices.
Once you were back in the passenger seat, arms folded and brows furrowed, the adrenaline began to wear off, only to be replaced by a much deeper frustration.
You stared straight ahead as Bucky climbed in beside you and started the engine.
"You shouldnât have stopped me," you muttered.
He glanced over. "I didnât want you to get arrested. That would mean more court-mandated therapy sessions."
"I didnât care. They donât get to talk about you like that. Like youâre some monster." Your voice cracked slightly, but you powered through.
There was a pause. The kind that hung heavy in the air between two people who felt too much and said too little.
Buckyâs voice was quieter this time. "Theyâre not wrong, you know."
Your head snapped toward him. "Bullshit."
He didnât meet your eyes, staring instead at the steering wheel like it held all the answers.
"I was the Winter Soldier. I did terrible things. I donât blame them for being afraid."
You leaned closer, the anger still burning beneath your skin but now softened with something else.
"You were used, Bucky. Controlled. Tortured. Youâre not that person. You never were."
He looked at you then, really looked at you. And for a second, you saw it, his guard slipping. The guilt, the grief, the longing to believe the words you just said.
His hand reached out slowly, hesitantly, and landed on top of yours. He didnât grip it. Just rested there...gentle, grounding.
His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles. The gesture was barely there, but it felt like everything.
You let the silence linger, letting it say what neither of you quite knew how to. Your fingers turned slowly, intertwining with his without a second thought.
First Kiss
It was almost 3AM.
The Tower was dead quiet everyone either asleep or passed out from too much pizza and Mario Kart. But you couldnât sleep. You rarely could. Too many thoughts bouncing around in your head, too much noise you couldnât turn off.
So you did what you always did: climbed as high as you could and disappeared into the quiet.
You sat barefoot on the roof, sleeves pulled over your hands, knees tucked to your chest, perched on the edge like some reckless little gargoyle with a death wish. The city below pulsed with life, cars, lights, sirens, but up here, it was just you and the wind. Everything felt softer, quieter. Like your brain could breathe.
You werenât even sure what you were running from tonight. Maybe it was the insomnia. Maybe it was the feelings youâd been trying not to name. Or maybe it was just⌠him.
Bucky.
It had been months since Yelenaâs birthday. Months since that grocery store incident. Since he caught you midair like a football and called you âcrazyâ with a smile that made your stomach flip.
Since then⌠things changed.
You held hands under blankets during movie nights. He always gave you extra mashed potatoes when it was his night to cook. Helped you dry the dishes when it was your turn to clean. He never said anything about it. He just did it. Like it was natural.
Like you were natural.
And that scared you more than anything.
You didnât hear him come up, but you felt it. The shift in the air. The way the atmosphere seemed to settle when he was around, like gravity remembered how to work.
He said nothing as he walked over, just leaned on the railing beside you, arms resting casually as he looked out over the city like it was holding some kind of answer heâd been looking for.
The silence stretched, comfortable but heavy. Like both of you were waiting for something to give.
You nudged his elbow.
"Careful, Barnes. Stand too close and someone might think you like me."
"Thatâs assuming someone doesnât already," he said, voice quiet just enough wind to make you wonder if youâd imagined it.
You blinked. Turned to look at him.
He didnât look back. His jaw was clenched, shoulders tense. Like he was fighting himself. Like he was losing.
"You okay?" you asked, quieter now.
"I should be asking you that," he said, nodding toward the ledge. "Youâre the one pretending sheâs not afraid of heights."
"You look like youâve got something on your mind," you replied. "Whatâs wrong?"
He finally turned to face you, and you knew that look. Because youâd seen every other version of it: the guarded one, the haunted one, the blank stare he wore like armor.
But this look? This was different.
Warm. Open. Careful, like he was holding something fragile between his hands. Like he was choosing to let you see it.
"You ever stop talking?" he asked, but there was no bite to it. Just a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You smirked. "You ever stop looking at me like that?"
His breath hitched. "Do you want me to?"
You paused. Let the moment breathe.
"No," you said quietly. "I donât."
He held your gaze for a beat. Then held out his hand.
"Come back from the ledge."
You rolled your eyes, but stepped down. He didnât let go of your hand.
He just watched you for a second, like he was trying to decide something. Then he took a step forward. And another. Until you were standing chest to chest.
His hand lifted. Hesitated.
Then brushed against your cheek.
It was soft. Barely there. Rough fingers, calloused from too many battles, treating you like you were something sacred.
Your heart was thundering in your chest, âBuckyâŚâ
âY/NâŚâ And then he leaned in.
And kissed you.
It was gentle at first, uncertain. Like he was testing it. Testing you. Waiting to see if you'd pull away, if youâd laugh, if you'd ruin it the way you ruin most things.
You didnât.
Your fingers fisted into the front of his hoodie and you kissed him back hungry and reckless and real. Like every joke, every smirk, every time you caught him staring and pretended not to notice had all led to this.
Because it had.
That kiss turned hot, urgent, like something cracked open between you. You could feel the silence he carried, the pain he didnât talk about, the way his hands shook just a little when he let himself want something. And you gave him something back: the chaos in your chest, the wildness in your soul, the aching softness you never let anyone see.
When he finally pulled away, his lips still ghosted against yours, your breath tangled in the space between. His forehead leaned against yours, steadying both of you.
You opened your eyes just to make sure it was real.
His were already on you.
You grinned, breathless.
"Well damn, Buck. That was hot."
He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, really smiling. Not the half-hearted, polite kind he gave to strangers. The kind that made you feel like the world could maybe be okay.
"Youâre ridiculous."
"You love it."
He didnât deny it. Instead, he slid his fingers through yours, easy, natural, like heâd always meant to.
"Come on," he murmured. "Letâs get you inside before you start climbing something and give me a heart attack."
You leaned into him, not letting go of his hand.
"I make no promises."
Telling the TeamÂ
The medical wing of the Tower was way too quiet for a team who just landed from a mission.
Bucky sat shirtless on the exam table, one arm in a sling, the other braced on his thigh. A deep bruise was blooming along his ribs, and he was thoroughly ignoring the ice pack someone had handed him.
Yelena paced back and forth like a tiger in a cage. Bob munched trail mix like he was at the movies. Alexei had already told the story of his âmuch worse injuryâ twice. Valentina was Googling "can you die from a cracked rib". Ava was staring blankly at the ceiling, silently questioning her life choices while John was on his phone.
Then Bucky spoke up, calm but quiet. âDid you tell Y/N?â
Yelena paused mid-step, turning to him. âWhat?â
He looked at her, brows furrowed. âDid you tell her I got hurt?â
âUh, yeah. Obviously. I texted her the second we landed. She was getting ready for game night, and I had to tell her why it was canceled. Why?â
He didnât answer at first, just exhaled through his nose and looked down at the floor.
Yelena narrowed her eyes. âWhy do you look nervous?â
âIâm not nervous,â Bucky muttered, sitting up straighter then immediately winced. âShe just⌠reacts.â
And just as he said it, like destiny had been waiting for the perfect cue, the sound of someone sprinting down the hall echoed like thunder.
Then came the yelling.
âWHERE THE HELL IS HE?! WHO LET MY MAN GET BROKEN?!â
Bob choked on a peanut. Alexei jumped to his feet like he was under attack. Valentina dropped her phone with a clatter. Ava slowly grinned. And Bucky just closed his eyes and muttered, âHere we go.â
The doors flew open like youâd kicked them in. You stood there hair wild, eyes ablaze, oversized hoodie flapping behind you like you were the avenging angel of rage and vengeance. Your Converse squeaked as you skidded to a dramatic stop.
Your eyes zeroed in on Buckyâs bare chest, sling, and the angry bruise.
Your hands flew to your hips. âOh HELL no.â
âIâm okayââ he tried.
âWHO let this happen?! Who was on âBucky Watchâ?!â You swung your gaze to the team like you were about to start naming names. âYou guys leave for one mission, and this man breaks a whole bone?! I TOLD you people he canât be left unsupervised!â
Yelena raised a brow and looked at Bucky. âTold you sheâd react.â
Bob leaned toward Ava and whispered, âThis is so much better than the trail mix.â
You pointed accusingly at the group. âTell me who did it. I swear on my Converse, I will personally break their bones to match his!â
âThereâs no one to fight,â Bucky said calmly. âIt was just a mission thing. We took care of it.â
âOh, then Iâll fight the mission. Square up, covert ops.â
âSweetheart,â he said.
You blinked. He never called you that in front of people.
He patted the cot beside him. âCâmere.â
You crossed the room, climbing up beside him, eyes scanning every inch of his injury. You gently reached out to touch the edge of the sling.
âYouâre really okay?â your voice dropped, barely above a whisper now.
âIâm fine, Crazy,â he murmured, eyes softening as they met yours. âJust a fracture. Doc says Iâll live.â
You frowned, gently brushing your knuckles along the bruise. âYou better.â
âIâve had worse.â
âYou still shouldnât have any.â
âI told Yelena not to tell you so you wouldnât freak out.â
You squinted at him. âAnd howâd that go for you?â
He chuckled low under his breath, and with his good arm, pulled you into him like it was second nature. Your head tucked under his chin, and your hand found his, resting gently over his.
Thatâs when the shift happened and the pair looked at the team.
Bobâs mouth dropped open. Valentinaâs eyes narrowed like she was watching a plot twist. Alexei did a double take. Ava looked genuinely impressed. And Yelena?
Yelena smirked like sheâd just won bingo.
âOhhhhh,â Bob said slowly. âSo this is like⌠a thing thing.â
Without lifting your head, you replied, âNope. Not a thing. Totally subtle.â
âYou just called him âmy manâ and threatened to start a fight with an abstract concept,â Valentina said, unimpressed.
âIâm passionate,â you said sweetly.
âShe kissed my cheek last week and threatened to seduce me just to make him jealous,â Yelena added casually. âIt was wildly unconvincing but very entertaining.â
Bucky looked down at you. âDid you really?â
You grinned up at him. âDid it work?â
He smirked. âSo jealous.â
You kissed his cheek again. âYou look very handsome when youâre injured.â
âI try.â
The team stared as you curled even closer to Bucky, who didnât seem to mind being used as a human pillow.
âIâm gonna need all of you to leave,â you said without looking up. âBuckyâs hurt. Weâre going to cuddle.â
âIs that medically advisable?â Ava asked.
âNo, but itâs emotionally necessary,â you shot back.
Yelena clapped her hands once. âAlright, partyâs over. Let the emotionally unbalanced girl and the emotionally repressed man have their moment.â
âThank you, Lena!â you called sweetly.
As the door closed behind them, Bucky rested his head lightly on yours.
âYouâre really not mad I got hurt?â he asked softly.
âI mean, Iâm a little mad,â you said, eyes still closed. âBut Iâm more mad you didnât tell me yourself.â
âI didnât want you to worry.â
You pulled back just enough to look at him, expression serious now. âIâm gonna worry either way. Thatâs what happens when you love someone.â
He stilled.
Then, slowly, his hand tightened around yours.
âI love you too,â he said, like it had been waiting on the tip of his tongue forever.
You smiled, leaning up to kiss him this time slow, deliberate, and just for him.
And just as you pulled away, the door creaked open again.
ââŚsooo like since when?!â Bob asked, poking his head back in.
You both turned your heads.
âSeriously,â Valentina added, stepping back in. âSince when were you two together?â
Bucky shrugged. âItâs been a thing.â
âA secret thing?â Alexei asked, deeply offended. âThis is betrayal.â
âWe werenât hiding it!â you said.
âYou kissed him in front of us for the first time thirty seconds ago,â John replied.
Yelena waltzed back in, arms folded. âSee? I knew you liked crazy girls.â
Bucky looked down at you, still curled against his good side. Then looked back at the team.
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could I request a Bucky x Reader where they both have secret crushes on each other, but Bucky is super cold, quiet, and avoids her because he doesnât know how to talk to her and thinks heâll mess it up? He mostly just stares. Reader (probs another hero) is convinced he hates her and feels hurt, and one day Bucky accidentally overhears her crying or venting about how rejected she feels. Some emotional tension and hurt/comfort would be amazing.
The Quiet Between Us
Character: Bucky Barnes
Requested: Yes! Thank you for your request!!! I had so much fun writing! Hope you enjoy!
Type: Angst/Fluff
Summary: Falling for Bucky was the easy part. The silence that came afterâthe distance, the rejectionâhurt the most.
A.N: I know it's been a minute--thank you for your patience. Iâve been dealing with some serious writerâs block lately, and honestly, I just didnât know what to write. Iâm slowly getting back into the swing of things and trying to work through all your amazing requests as best as I can!
You always wanted to be part of something bigger.
Not in the way that meant headlines or medals or praise. You just wanted belonging. A place where your name wasnât just whispered in fear or forgotten entirely. A place where you matteredânot for what you could do, but for who you were.
More than anything, you wanted a family.
The kind that stays. The kind that sees all your sharp edges and doesnât run away. People who offer soft places to land after the world has chewed you up and spit you out.
You never thought youâd find it in the Red Room. But life doesnât always make sense, and even in that cold, brutal place, something warm found its way in. Yelena.
You both were really close until Natasha's death. You hadnât seen her since the funeral. Not until the day Alexei barreled through your apartment door like a brick wall in red spandex, muttering something about Valentina and needing your help. You tried to say no. He didnât give you the chance.
And somehow⌠just like that⌠you were part of something new.
The New Avengers.
You didnât feel like one. Not really. You still flinched at loud noises. Still checked the exits in every room. You were trained to disappear, not to stand in the light.
Now? You were under it.
It was overwhelmingâbeing seen. Being known. But at least you werenât alone.
You have a family. Yelena found her way back to you. You both would sit on the kitchen floor at 2 a.m. with melting ice cream and old music playing from the speaker.Â
Alexei was a walking headache, but his heart was oddly pure. He treated you like his own, even if he had the emotional range of a brick.
Walker taught you control. He wasnât soft, but he was fair. He never looked at you like a weapon. He looked at you like someone trying.
Ava didnât talk much. But when she did, her words hit deep. Youâd sit with her on the roof and watch the lights blink in the distance, sharing quiet like it was something sacred.
Valentina was⌠complicated. But she never asked you to be anything but yourself. You weren't sure if she cared or if she just enjoyed your presence. Either way, she kept you close.
Then sweet, quiet Bob. Youâd sit with him in the sunroom where he paintedâmessy, colorful things that didnât make much sense to anyone but him.
And then⌠there was him.
Bucky Barnes.
You knew of him before you met him. The whispers. The ghost stories. The living weapon with a metal arm and a haunted past.
You didnât expect to fall in love the second you saw himâbut life never cared about your plans.
He was quieter than you imagined. And softer. Not soft in the way that made him weakâsoft in the way that made you ache. Everything about him felt careful. Deliberate.Â
But when he looked at you? God. It was like time stopped.
You touched once. Just briefly. His fingers brushing your wrist after the fight with Sentry. He pulled you up and out of there. Your skin burned where he touched youâand not in a painful way. In a real way. Like something inside you had just⌠clicked.
You started to notice the little things. The way he waited for you at breakfast without saying it. The way his fingers would twitch toward yours like he was holding himself back. The way his voice softened when he said your name.
You started to let yourself believe he felt it too.
And then⌠he changed.
One day he was thereâpresent, engaged, kind. The next, he was gone. Not physically, but emotionally. He avoided you. Stopped meeting your eyes. Conversations became one-word answers. He started taking different shifts. Leaving the room when you entered it.
At first, you told yourself you were imagining it. That he was just tired. Or overwhelmed.
But weeks passed. And the silence grew heavier.
You still have your new family. You still paint with Bob on Tuesdays and laugh with Yelena when she teases Walker too hard.
But thereâs a hole in your chest where Bucky used to be.
You try to be strong. Youâve been through worse. You know how to survive without love.
But you donât want to.
You just wanted someone to stay. To see the bruises under the surface and not flinch. To choose you when things got hard.
Maybe that was too much to hope for.
The team was spread across the common areaâhalf on the couch, others in mismatched chairs and the edge of the coffee table.Â
You sat tucked into the far end of the couch, elbow resting on the armrest, staring blankly aheadâyour mind somewhere else. Somewhere quieter.
âY/N.â
You flinched at the sound of your name. Your head snapped up, heart skipping. Yelena was watching you from across the room, brows slightly drawn.
âCan you stay with us, please?â she said, giving you a soft smile. âThis is important.â
You blinked, nodding slightly. âYeah. Sorry.â
She exchanged a look with Walker before continuing. âVal wants someone in Sam Wilsonâs new group.â
That made everyone pause.
âShe thinks theyâre planning something bigger than theyâre letting on,â Yelena added, pacing a little as she spoke. âWeâve been left out of too much lately. And sheâs worried that weâre going to get blindsided. She wants us to be prepared. It could give us more credibility.â
The room fell into a tense hush.
Ava was the first to break it. âSo⌠she wants one of us to spy?â
âTechnically? Sheâd probably call it âintel gathering,ââ Yelena replied, dryly. âBut yeah. Someone would need to be on the inside. Get close. Listen.â
Walker frowned. âSo⌠what, weâre voting someone off the island now?â
Yelena looked at you.
Your stomach dropped.
âSheâs already picked,â Yelena said quietly. âVal thinks it should be Y/N.â
You blinked. âMe?â
âShe said it makes the most sense. Youâre the least visible. No PR trail. Youâve stayed in the shadows. You can slip in naturally, youâll just have to pull the âI never fit inâ card She thinks the transition would be believable.â
You didnât know what to say. You could feel everyoneâs eyes on you, some curious, some hesitant. But thenâ
âNo.â
The word was sharp, sudden, and heavy.
Everyone turned.
Bucky stood stiff near the back wall, arms folded, his eyes lockedânot on youâbut on Yelena.
âSheâs not doing it,â he said flatly.
You blinked, confused. âWhat?â
âSheâs not joining Samâs group,â Bucky repeated, tone cold. âThatâs not happening.â
Yelena raised a brow. âItâs not really your decision, Barnes.â
âSheâs not doing it,â he said again, louder now. âSheâs not playing double agent. Sheâs not pretending to be something sheâs not. And sheâs not putting herself in that kind of danger.â
Your heart started to thud against your chest.
You stood slowly. âWhy the hell are you talking about me like Iâm not here?â
Still, he wouldnât look at you.
âBucky, seriously,â Ava said cautiously, sensing the tension rising, âyouâre kind of⌠oversteppingââ
âNo, Iâm not,â he snapped, jaw tight. âThis is a bad idea. I wonât sit here and let it happen.â
âJesus, Bucky,â you muttered, stepping forward. âWhat is your problem?â
He didnât answer.
âDo you think I canât handle it? That Iâm whatâfragile? Not cut out for this?â
Yelenaâs voice cut in, trying to keep things from escalating. âSheâs the best fit for this. Thatâs what Val said. And she wants to do it.â
âNo,â Bucky said again, and this time there was something sharper under the surfaceâpanic, maybe. âItâll be someone else. Not her.â
You stared at him, eyes burning now.
âIf youâve got a problem with me taking this mission,â you said, voice rising, âthen have the balls to say it to my face.â
His eyes flicked to you. Finally. Just for a second.
âIâm calling Val,â he said flatly. âThis isnât happening.â
That was it. The breaking point.
You stepped toward him. âGoddammit, Buck, look at me! Youâre standing over there acting like you careâlike you have a say in what I can and canât doâbut you wonât even look at me.â
The room had gone still. No one moved. The air felt thick.
His jaw clenched. His fists were curled tightly at his sides.
You dropped your voice, anger bleeding into hurt. âWhy donât you think I can do this? What is it really? Is it because Iâm not good enough? Because Iâm not you?â
He said nothing. His silence screamed louder than any insult could have.
You laughed bitterly, trying to hold it together. âYou know what hurts the most? Not that you donât believe in me. Not even that youâre trying to control this. Itâs that I thought⌠I thought you saw me. This is the first time in weeks where you actually acknowledged my existence let alone actually talk to me. And now I realize youâve just been looking past me the whole time.â
His eyes snapped to yours, and for a secondâjust a secondâyou saw something flicker there. Guilt. Fear. Maybe even something like regret.
But he didnât say a word.
He just turned and walked out.
The door shut behind him like a punch to the chest.
You stood there, frozen in place. The silence in the room was deafening.
No one knew what to say.
You glanced at the othersâYelenaâs mouth slightly open like she was holding back something, Ava looking uncomfortable, Bob frowning in that quiet way he always did, his sketchbook forgotten.
You swallowed hard, blinked quickly to keep the tears down, and ran a hand through your hair.
âIâll do it,â you said, voice thin and sharp. âTell Val Iâm in.â
And then you turned, leaving the stunned silence behind you as you walked down the hall toward your room.
The door closed softly behind you.
But the ache in your chest didnât.
You avoided Bucky.
He avoided you, tooâbut in the quiet way only he could. Slipping into rooms right after youâd left. Sitting on the opposite side of the table during meals. Eyes flickering to you, then away like it hurt to look.
But this time⌠you didnât chase after him.
You were tired. Tired of caring so deeply only to be shut down like you didnât matter. Like the moments youâd sharedâthose long glances, the quiet jokes, the almost-touchesâwere just in your head.
So you stopped hoping heâd say something. You stopped checking doorways for him, stopped waiting for your phone to light up with his name. He made it clear in that meeting. You were a liability to him. Not worth the risk.
You went through the motions: trained, ate, slept, locked yourself in your room for most of the day.
And now?
Now you were curled up in the sunroom with Bob, your head resting on your arms, your brush barely touching the canvas in front of you. He was working on something chaotic againâangry reds bleeding into deep purples, gold flicked across it like a desperate afterthought.
He didnât ask why your eyes were glassy. Why your hands were shaking.
He just handed you a clean brush.
And for a little while, you let yourself just be. No pressure to explain the lump in your throat. No questions about your silence.
Just messy strokes. Quiet breath. Stillness.
Then came the tears.
They started slowâjust a few that slipped down without permission. Then more. And more. Until you were shaking, tears falling so fast you had to put the brush down, covering your face with your sleeve.
Bob didnât say anything. He just moved closer and wrapped his arms around you, warm and solid.
âItâs Bucky, isnât it?â he murmured, rubbing your back. âHeâs why youâre like this.â
You nodded, choking on the truth in your throat.
âI thoughtâŚâ you started, swallowing hard, âI thought we were something. We were getting close. He made me think he felt something too.â
Bob listened.
âAnd then itâs like a switch flipped. Now he barely looks at me. IâI donât even think he respects me as part of the team.â
You pulled away slightly, wiping your eyes. âHe thinks Iâm a mess. Like I canât handle myself. Like Iâm some kid trying to play hero.â
âThatâs not true,â Bob said quietly.
âI like him. A lot. More than I should. But this? I canât keep feeling like this. Like Iâm not enough for him to even talk to.â
There was silence.
âMaybe the mission will help,â you said after a while. âSome space. Maybe Iâll finally stop feeling this way.â
âOr maybe itâll make it worse,â Bob said gently.
You let out a watery laugh. âThanks. Really uplifting.â
âI mean, ice creamâs still on the table,â he offered with a small smile. âIâll get Yelena.â
You nodded, trying to pull yourself back together.
What you donât seeâwhat neither of you noticeâis the shadow outside the doorway. Listening.
Bucky.
He didnât come here to eavesdrop. He came to talk to Bob. Because Bob was the only one who wouldnât make it a big thing. The only one who might actually help him sort through the mess in his chest.
But he hadnât expected you to be here.
He definitely hadnât expected to hear you crying over him.
And now that he has, he canât move. Canât look away. Canât unhear the words that are tearing him apart.
God, no. That wasnât what he wanted.
He thought he was protecting you. He thought if he kept his distance, he wouldnât ruin thingsâwouldnât ruin you.
But instead, heâs the reason youâre crying into someone elseâs shoulder.
He presses a hand to his chest, trying to ground himself. Trying not to panic.
He wants you. Heâs always wanted you.
But wanting has never led to good things in his life. People he loves leave. Or die. Or get hurt.
And if he lets you inâreally lets you inâwhat happens when you disappear too?
Still. As much as he wants to turn around, to pretend he didnât hear any of itâŚ
He walks in.
You freeze when you hear the door open.
Standing there like a ghost. Hands shoved in his pockets, face unreadable, but eyes⌠hurting.
âCan I talk to her?â he asked. His voice was quieter than usual. Almost unsure.
Bob looked at you. You hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Bob gave Bucky a hard look on his way outâsomething between be gentle and donât screw this upâand closed the door behind him.
Silence.
You didnât look at Bucky. Just grabbed a tissue and wiped your face.
âIf youâre here to say Iâm not ready again, just save it,â you said, voice rough. âIâm going on the mission. You donât get to decide that.â
âIâm not here for that,â he said.
You stood, crossing your arms over your chest. âThen what? Here to tell me you were just looking out for the team? That it wasnât personal?â
He flinched. âNo. It was personal. Thatâs the problem.â
You blinked at him.
âI like you too,â he said suddenly, his voice almost breaking. âI do. I did. I haveâsince the beginning.â
You froze.
âWhat?â you whispered.
âI like you,â he said again, more softly this time. âA lot. And it scared the hell out of me.â
You stared at him, jaw clenched. âSo you humiliate me? In front of everyone?â
âI didnât mean to,â he said quickly. âI was trying to push you away.â
You laughed, cold and bitter. âYeah, I noticed.â
âI thought if I kept my distance, maybe itâd go away. Or maybe youâd move on. Because if you got too closeâif you actually started to matterâand then something happened to youââ He cut himself off, eyes full of something broken. âI wouldnât survive that.â
Your chest ached.
âYou donât get to decide how close I get,â you said tightly. âAnd you sure as hell donât get to decide how strong I am. You donât get to make me feel small just because youâre scared.â
âI know,â he said. âI know I messed up. I fucked it up completely. I was an idiot, and I hurt you, and I see that now. And I donât expect you to forgive me. I justâneeded to say it.â
He stepped closer, hands trembling slightly.
âI see you,â he said. âYouâre not weak. Youâre not reckless. Youâre one of the strongest people on this team and I had no right to act like you werenât.â
You looked down, lip trembling.
âAnd I miss you,â he said quietly. âEvery day I ignored you, I missed you. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was lose you.â
You didnât speak.
âI donât deserve you,â he added. âBut I want to try. I want to make it right. Even if that means starting over. Even if that means starting as friends.â
Your voice came out small. âYou really hurt me, Bucky.â
âI know,â he said. âAnd Iâll spend however long it takes proving I can be better.â
You looked up at him. He was watching you like you were something sacred. Like he didnât know if he was allowed to breathe in your direction.
âIâm still going on the mission,â you said.
âI know.â
âBut Iâm coming back.â
âYou better,â he said, a small, broken smile playing at his lips. âIâve got months of groveling to do.â
âYou do,â you said, voice softer now. âAnd Iâm not making it easy.â
âI wouldnât want it any other way.â
You hesitated. âFriends first.â
âIâll take whatever youâll give me,â he said. âAs long as I get to be near you again.â
You sighed, exhaustion still heavy in your bones, but something in your chestâsomething warmâcracked through the ache like sunlight through storm clouds.
âYouâre buying the ice cream,â you muttered, voice still thick but a little lighter.
Buckyâs lips twitched into the faintest smile. âObviously.â
There was a pause. The kind of pause that held weight. Like both of you were standing at the edge of something fragile and real.
And then, without a word, he stepped forward.
Slowly. Cautiously.
He didnât pull you into his chest or hold you too tightly like he used toânot yet. He just opened his arms.
You hesitated, your eyes flicking up to meet his.
And then you stepped in.
His arms wrapped around you carefully, like you were still hurtingâbut like he wanted to be the one who helped carry it. You pressed your face into his shoulder, feeling his warmth, his breath catching a little as he held you like he was afraid to let go.
Not a romantic hug. Not yet.
But something even more intimate.
A promise.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered again against your hair.
You didnât answer, just closed your eyes and let yourself be heldâfor the first time in what felt like a lifetime. And for the first time in just as long, it didnât feel like you were breaking.
It felt like the start of healing.
Slow. Earned. Real.
****
Thank you so much for all the follows, kind messages, and lovely comments in the meantime. I see them all, and Iâm genuinely so grateful for every one of you.
Requested: Yes! I didn't want to respond directly since it does contain some Thunderbolts Spoilers but I really hope you see this. If you do see this, please message me that you did so, I can have some peace of mind.
The request started with "Can I request a fic for Bucky please? Iâm wanting lots of angst of reader and Bucky not seeing eye to eye after..."
Type: Angst
Summary: You and Bucky seem to be on opposite sides.
A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!
Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC
3...2..1...
You met Bucky through Steve during the U.N. bombing fiascoâback when everything was falling apart and nothing felt safe.
From that moment on, you were in it with him. Every step, every fight, every quiet moment in the aftermath. He never had to ask; you were just there.
And when Steve died, when the weight of it all came crashing down, the two of you leaned on each other like you were the only solid thing left in the world. Somewhere in that grief, love happened. Slowly, then all at once.
After that, you were just⌠you and him. No big declarations. No drama. Just this steady, easy rhythm.
Sure, there were argumentsâsmall ones, over stupid things like laundry or leaving dishes in the sinkâbut never real fights. Nothing that stuck. You could read each other so well it never got that far.
Until you played the video Sam sent you.
âLadies and gentlemen, meet the New Avengers,â
And there was Bucky. In the center. Wearing his suit. Standing with them.
Your heart dropped so fast you couldnât breathe for a second. Not because you thought he betrayed you or Sam though he definitely didâbut because he let it happen. Because he stood there, quiet.
You didnât want to pick sides. God, you really didnât. But it felt like he already had.
He said he didnât ask for it. Said he wasnât even sure how it happened. But he kept showing up to their briefings, kept running missions with them, kept wearing that title like it didnât burn.
And the worst part? The governmentâthe governmentâwas backing them. Funding them. Controlling them. You grew up watching them twist heroes into weapons. And now they had Bucky.
You tried to talk. At first, it was calm. Then it wasnât.
Now itâs been fourteen months. And you barely recognize the way your fights stretch out, sharper, faster, more frequent. Less about the Avengers and more about everything thatâs not being said.
You still love him. Thatâs not even a question. And he loves you. You know that. But sometimes love isnât enough to close the space thatâs growing between two people who donât see the world the same way anymore.
You try. You both do. But itâs harder than it used to be. Way harder.
This morning, you show up at the compound with coffee in your hands, the paper tray trembling just slightly from lack of sleepâand everything else. Itâs your way of saying sorry without saying the words. Not for what you fought about, but for the way it happened. For the silence after.
Thatâs how you find yourself stepping off the elevator and into the teamâs living space chest still aching from the night beforeâjust in time to hear it:
"Werenât you going to talk to him?"
"I already did," Bucky says. His voice is low, tired. Like heâs already lived through the argument in his head too many times to want to say it again.
"And?"
"It went poorly."
You stop just past the doorway, your stomach twisting. You shouldnât have heard that. But now that you have, you can't pretend you didnât.
âYou spoke to Sam?â you ask, stepping into the room fully.
Everyone looks up. The weight of too many eyes lands heavy on your skin. No one says anything. They donât have to. Everyone knows whatâs been going onâwhatâs been quietly breaking between you and Bucky for over a year now.
âI brought coffee for everyone,â you offer, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. It doesnât hide the tension. It only highlights it.
Then, gently to Bob: âI got you decaffeinated tea.â
âThank you,â Bob says, offering a soft smile, trying to smooth out the edges of the moment. But it doesn't do much.
You turn back to Bucky, heart in your throat. âYou spoke to Sam?â
He exhales slowly. âYeah. I did.â
âWhy?â you ask. You already know the answer. Youâre just hoping itâs not the one youâre thinking.
âTo see if he would stop all of this,â he says, rubbing a hand down his face.
You stare at him, jaw clenched. âI told you he wouldnât. Ross is breathing down his neck. He basically has his hands tied.â
Bucky shakes his head, frustrated. âThat doesnât give him the right to make this whole thing hell for us. Itâs not our fault that Valentina decided to do all of this.â
You feel the words catch in your chest before they come out. âBut you didnât fight it.â
The room is still. Even the air feels heavy.
Yelena, sitting off to the side, casually adds, âYou do know that he filed for copyright of the name.â
Bucky turns toward her, caught off guard. âDid he?â Then his eyes swing back to you. âSee? We're not doing anything. Heâs taking it too far.â
You feel heat rise in your chest. Not anger exactlyâsomething messier. âLook, the Avengers stay with the one who has the shield. He has the right to start up the team again. And donât forgetâyouâre the one who told him he should.â
âI never said that.â
You glare at him, the words hitting before you can stop them. âHe vented to you, Bucky. You gave him advice. You told him Steve didnât make a mistake handing him the shield. You told him to leadâto build something new. The Avengers. And now not only is there a new team, but youâre in it. With the same government that once tried to erase him. And you didnât even try to understand his side."
He scoffs, voice rising. âSamâs side? Heâs the one who doesnât want to speak to me! Heâs the one whoâs blaming me like I planned this!â
âWhat happened during that call?â you ask, arms crossed tightly in front of you like itâs the only thing holding you together.
âI told himââ Bucky starts, then shrugs, eyes flicking away. âI told him he was being ridiculous. That thereâs already an Avengers team. That thereâs no reason to start a second one.â
Your lips part, but it takes a second for the words to come. âSo you basically told him to back off.â
âHeâs making this really difficult,â Bucky mutters.
You feel something in you crackâquietly. You can't keep arguing. You lost all willpower. You grab your purse off the counter. âIâm not doing this right now,â you say, more to yourself than to him.
But behind you, his voice calls out, rough and wounded. âYouâre not even going to hear me out?â
You stop. You turn. Slowly. âIâve been hearing you out for fourteen months, Bucky,â you say. âEvery time. Iâve listened. Iâve tried to understand. But you signed on with them. What more is there to hear?â
He steps forward, like being closer might help you hear him better. âItâs not like thatââ
âNo?â Your voice trembles, but the anger in it keeps it from breaking. âBecause it feels like exactly that. And fine, letâs say you didnât sign up for the politics, but youâre still here. Standing next to them. Like that shield and that name didnât come with blood and pain and history.â
His shoulders tense. His jaw tightens. That flash of guilt flickers in his eyes againâbut he swallows it down too fast. Again.
âThis isnât about Sam.â
You almost laugh. âEverything is about Sam.â
âI didnât want this,â he snaps. âBut sometimes we donât get to wait for the perfect cause to show up. The worldâs on fire. Sam had timeâhe couldâve acted. But now heâs creating this new team out of spite.â
You look at him like you donât recognize him for a second. âAnd sometimes you donât even realize youâre helping the very system that tried to erase your best friend from history...That tried to bury you.â
He flinches. That one lands. You can see it in the way he goes still.
You take a shaky breath. âSam bled for that shield. He earned it. But they made him prove himself again and again. Until he was almost broken. And now youâre smiling for the cameras next to the same people who happily tried to hand that legacy to John.â You glance at Walker. âNo offense.â
âSome taken,â Walker mumbles. You ignore him.
Buckyâs face darkens. âI havenât forgotten what they did. But I havenât forgotten the threats out there, either. This team⌠itâs not perfect. But we show up. Samâs team havenât shown up at all.â
âAnd when they do?â you say, stepping closer. âAre you really going to go up against Sam? Against his team? Over a name?â
âIf thatâs what it takes.â
It feels like a punch to the ribs. You stare at him, voice soft and hollow. âAnd what about me?â
That shatters something in his expression. You see itâthe flicker of fear he tries to bury but canât. Because this time, itâs different. Youâve fought beforeâcircling this dilemma for months, both of you carefully pretending it lived outside your relationship. Like you could keep love and ideology in separate rooms. But this? This is the first time the line disappears. The first time it feels personal.
And you canât pretend anymore.
âWeâre a family, Bucky. After Steve, itâs always been us three. And now you're ready to go against him? Over a group name that we both know belongs to him.â
âI want to be where I can help,â he says, quieter now. âSure, the government backs us up, but we're not letting them control us. We're on the right side."
Your eyes burned, but you refused to let the tears fall. âAnd what happens when the lines between right and wrong blur, Bucky? When the people youâre working with start justifying things again?"
He doesnât answer right away.
You lower your voice, barely above a whisper now. âWhat happens when history repeats itself?â
He looks at you, offended. âYou think Iâd let that happen again?â
âI donât know,â you whisper. âAnd thatâs what scares me.â
The silence hung there like a bruise. No one said a word.
Silence settled between you again, broken only by the muffled sounds of the team whispering amongst themselves, trying not to be obvious, failing miserably.
You turned toward the window because it was easier than looking at him. Easier than seeing what wasâor wasnâtâleft in his eyes.
Your voice came out quieter than you meant, cracked at the edges.
âI canât follow you into this, Buck.â
You heard him breathe inâsharp, like maybe he hadnât expected that. Or maybe he had.
âI never asked you to,â he said. But there was something in his voice. A break. A catch. Something small but real.
And somehow, that made it worse.
You nodded, once. No drama. No grand speech. Just⌠done. Then you turned and walked toward the elevator.
No one stopped you.
You felt their eyes on your back. You felt his most of all.
The elevator dinged open, and you stepped in stiffly, trying to keep your hands from shaking and your heart from breaking right here in front of them.
The doors started to close.
He still didnât move.
Still didnât say your name.
And that? That was the part that broke you. He was letting you go.
Only when the doors shut and you were alone did your shoulders slump. Only then did the breath you'd been holding finally let goâand it came out shaky.
You didnât cry. Not yet.
You pulled out your phone, meaning to call Sam. Ask if you could crash for the night.
But your screen lit up before you could type.
Your lock screen.
That damn photo.
You and Bucky, wrapped up in each other, grinning like idiots. Some blurry picture someone else had snapped at some rooftop barbecue. He had his arm around you, his mouth near your ear. You were laughing like the world wasnât ending.
Back when things still felt easy.
Before sides.
Before names meant more than people.
Before all of this.
You stared at it, and your chest ached. Actually ached.
Different times.
Different battles.
Same man.
But maybe not the same love.
Youâd followed him through hell and worse. You wouldâve followed him anywhere.
But not this time.
Not into something that went against everything you believed.
Not when it meant losing pieces of yourself just to stay close to him.
Not when it meant standing against the memory of the only real family you've ever had.
Ahhh, I seriously love getting Bucky requestsâthey're always my favorite to write!
Also, I know this whole Sam vs. Bucky situation has stirred up a lot of emotions, but honestly, their friendship is so strong that I doubt it'll last long.
Anywhoooo I hope you enjoy this one! Love you all and thank you for all the support!!!!!
Pleaseeeee send me more requests (I'm on a Bucky roll right now lol)! And to those who have requested don't worry I'll get to yours soon!
Summary: You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.
A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!
Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC
3...2..1...
âSoâŚâ John groaned, slumping against a cracked brick wall. Blood trickled from a cut near his hairline, and ash streaked his jaw like war paint. He held up what was left of his shield â warped, twisted, folded . âWhat now? Because we just got annihilated.â
âNo shit,â Ava muttered, spitting dust from her mouth and flicking a burned scrap of fabric from her sleeve. Her split lip had swollen, and she could feel bruises blooming across her ribs. âI say every man for themselves. Bobâs gone full horror movie. This was fun â goodbye.â
She turned into the lingering smoke, already half-vanished â until Yelenaâs voice cut through like a knife.
âWe canât leave him.â
Ava stopped, shoulders stiff. âLeave who? That wasnât Bob back there. That was... I donât even know what that was.â She turned, folding her arms. âDefinitely not the guy who saved us.â
âNo,â Yelena said, voice tight. âBut heâs still in there. Somewhere.â
âUnless one of you has a secret anti-god laser in your back pocket,â Ava snapped, âwhat exactly is your plan?â
âI donât have one yet,â Yelena admitted, stepping forward anyway. âBut weâre not leaving him. Not like this.â
Alexei groaned and collapsed dramatically onto a half-shattered bench, which cracked under his weight. âIf we go back in there, I need... at least ten minutes. And a cortisone shot. Maybe a priest.â He waved a hand vaguely. âLet me stretch, drink some water, and then we finish him.â
âWeâre not finishing him,â Yelena snapped, rounding on him. âWeâre going to help him.â
âOh sure,â Ava muttered. âWeâll just hug the powers out of him.â
âHe ripped Buckyâs arm off like it was a dollâs toy,â Alexei added. âWe go in like this, we die.â
âItâs fine,â Bucky muttered as he calmly snapped the vibranium prosthetic back into place with a click. âHappens more than you think.â
John held up his bent shield, his face still a mix of shock and mild heartbreak. âHe folded it. I meanâfolded it. Like paper. Do you know what kind of force it takes to bend this thing?â
Ava raised a brow. âSo⌠not vibranium?â
âItâs vibranium-adjacent,â John muttered defensively.
Yelena didnât even look at him. âMaybe if it was actual vibranium, it wouldnât look like a gas station burrito.â
Alexei lit up. âI could go for a burrito. Or a taco. The ones with the cheese in the middle. Mmm. I want that now.â
John groaned. âFocus! We got curb-stomped by Bob! Bob! The shy nerdy one!"
âYeah,â Ava said quietly, brushing ash from her arm. âHeâs not shy or nerdy anymore.â
That shut them all up.
Bucky exhaled. They were beat to hell, and morale was tanking fast. But more than that, they were scared. And for good reason.
He looked at them â bruised, dirty, half-limping, yet still bickering like middle schoolers on a broken field trip â and made a decision he was definitely going to regret.
âThereâs a place we can crash. Itâs not far. We lay low, regroup. Heal. Then we figure out what the hell to do.â
Yelena eyed him suspiciously. âWhere?â
He didnât answer. Just turned and started walking.
The group hesitated, then followed â slow and shuffling.
A few blocks in, Ava broke the silence again, jabbing a thumb at Johnâs mangled shield. âSo⌠canât you, like, unfold it? Youâve got super strength, right?â
âI have super strength,â John snapped. âNot unfold-a-shield-bent-by-a-living-deity strength. Itâs toast.â
Alexei squinted. âIs that, like⌠covered under warranty? Or do you have to mail it back?â
John gave him a deadpan look. âDo I look like I kept a receipt?â
âAnd youââ he pointed at Ava ââGhost. Can you even do anything right now or are you just brooding professionally?â
Ava raised her brow. âI walked through a wall and saved your sorry ass five hours ago.â
âShe literally did,â Yelena added, smirking.
âI-oh. Right. I forgot,â John said, flustered. âIn my defense, I was the one who cut the power so she could walk through the wall.â
âHow convenient,â Ava said flatly.
Their argument began escalating again â nonsense mixed with sarcasm, interrupted only by Alexei trying to convince someone to buy him tacos â until Bucky turned sharply on his heel.
âEnough.â His voice was low, tired, and just sharp enough to cut through the noise. âWeâre almost there. If you keep yelling, sheâs not going to open the door.â
They all stopped short.
âShe?â they echoed, suspicious in unison.
âYes. She. No more questions.â He resumed walking, jaw clenched.
Yelena sidled up next to him, grinning like a cat. âIs this a she-she, or a capital-She situation?â
âIâm not answering that.â
Alexei leaned toward John with a conspiratorial whisper. âIs she a friend-friend or a friendly friend?â
John nodded sagely. âI bet sheâs way out of his league.â
âMaybe she's his girlfriend,â Yelena offered with a shrug.
âHighly doubtful,â Ava muttered.
âSheâs not myââ Bucky stopped mid-sentence, face twitching. âJust... shut up. All of you. Or I will let Bob use you as a jump rope.â
They finally quieted.
The townhouse appeared as they turned the corner. It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and an old record shop. String lights framed the little balcony, and a warm golden glow spilled from the upstairs window. Too calm. Too normal. It looked like the kind of place where people had tea and talked about their feelings â not where half-dead super-soldiers crawled in to sleep off a cosmic ass-kicking.
Bucky stopped in front of the door, hesitating. His jaw tightened as he raised his fist, his metal fist hovering before he knocked.
He hated this.
He hated that heâd brought them here â hated the pit growing in his stomach â hated that this was the only safe place he could think of. She hadnât seen him in almost a year. Not since they separated. And now he was dragging a human dumpster fire of a team to her doorstep.
Behind him, the others bickered in hushed tones.
âDoes she cook?â
âI hope she has a comfy couch.â
âIf she has tea, Iâll marry her.â
Bucky closed his eyes. Just for a second.
He almost turned around â almost told them it was a bad idea and they should just sleep in a sewer.
But then he heard footsteps approaching the door.
Too late.
The door creaked open slowly, and there you were.
Your eyes landed on Bucky first â bruised, dirt-streaked, arm slightly disjointed, and he was holding his ribs with one hand.
âBucky,â you breathed, barely above a whisper. Your gaze swept across him, and the flicker of worry that crossed your face was brief, but real.
Then it was gone.
âWhat do you want?â you asked. Not cold exactly, but not welcoming either. Just guarded.
Bucky looked down for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low. Worn. âI know Iâm the last person you wanna see right now. But we need your help.â
âI donât play superhero anymore,â you replied, arms folding as you leaned slightly against the doorframe.
âI know,â he said quickly, âIâm not asking you to suit up or anything. We just need a place to lay low. For a night. Maybe two. We got our asses handed to us like ten minutes ago.â He gestured to the group behind him, and your eyes drifted over the chaos on your porch.
âPlease, doll,â he added, quieter now. âI wouldnât have come if I had any other option.â
The silence stretched between you. He held your gaze, waiting â wounded pride barely masked beneath the plea.
Finally, you sighed, the tension in your shoulders softening. Without a word, you stepped aside and opened the door wider.
âCome in before the neighbors start watching.â
The team shuffled in, dragging in a trail of soot, broken egos, and exhaustion. Bucky paused as he stepped through, eyes flicking to the living room. It looked exactly like he remembered â warm, soft lighting, a shelf cluttered with books and candles. Homey. Safe.
Except the framed photos of you two were gone. Replaced by art. Abstract pieces. Beautiful, distant things.
Then something soft brushed against his leg.
He glanced down and froze.
A pristine white cat was weaving through his boots, its tail flicking with recognition. His expression shiftedâstunned, tender.
âHey, Alpine,â he murmured, crouching carefully. âHi, pretty girl. I missed you.â
She meowed softly and launched into his arms, immediately purring as she burrowed into his chest. He cradled her like porcelain, one hand smoothing over her fur.
You watched from the kitchen threshold. You and Bucky had agreed Alpine would stay with you â your life was stable, his wasnât. It had made sense. But it hadnât been easy.
Behind Bucky, the team just⌠stared.
âAre you seeing this?â John whispered to Yelena.
Ava elbowed him without even looking. âShut up.â
It was a surreal image: The Winter Soldier, dusty and battle-worn, cuddling a white fluffball like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You took in the rest of them. They were strangers, mostly. Strangers who looked like they'd crawled out of a battlefield and onto your rug.
The blonde woman leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her standing. The woman in the sleek suit by the door looked cool and dangerous in equal measure. Then there was the massive man in red. He smiled and gave a little wave when your eyes met. And then there was the guy with the folded shield and the âpunch-meâ face.
They all gave awkward waves. Alexeiâs was the most enthusiastic.
You nodded politely. âIâm Y/N. Nice to meet you.â
They all looked like they were one nudge away from collapsing.
âCan I get you anything to drink?â you offered.
âWater, please,â Yelena said quickly, her voice scratchy.
John raised his hand like a kid in class. âSame.â
Ava glanced at you, almost apologetic. âDo you have tea?â
âSure. What kind?â
âAnything.â
You turned to Alexei.
âDo you have anything⌠stronger?â he asked, hopeful.
âHow strong?â
âVery strong.â
You smirked. âGot it.â Then disappeared into the kitchen.
The moment you were out of sight, all heads turned to Bucky â still petting Alpine, who had zero plans to move.
âSoâŚâ Yelena drawled. âYou and her?â
Bucky tensed like someone lit a fuse in his spine.
âDonât,â he muttered.
John leaned closer to Ava. âThereâs definitely history here. Did you see the way she looked at him?â
âShe also looked like she wanted to slam the door,â Ava replied.
âShe likes him,â Alexei declared confidently. âThere is affection. And the cat approved. Cats never lie.â
Bucky glared at all of them. âIf you value your limbs, youâll stop talking.â
Yelena held up both hands, grinning. âOkay, okay. No shipping the grumpy soldier. Got it.â
A few moments later, you returned balancing a tray with glasses, a mug of tea, and a tumbler of something amber.
âBucky, seriously?â you said, seeing them all still hovering like awkward ghosts. âYou couldâve told them to sit down.â
He shrugged, still holding the cat like a teddy bear. âDidnât want to break anything.â
You waved the team toward the couches. âPlease. Make yourselves at home.â
John and Yelena nearly collapsed into opposite ends of the same couch. Ava leaned against a windowsill, blowing gently on her tea. Alexei sniffed his drink, took a sip, then sat upright.
âYou, my dear, are an angel,â he declared reverently. âIs this whiskey?â
âOnly the best for unexpected guests,â you replied dryly. âI was meal-prepping earlier,â you added, glancing over your shoulder. âIâve got a big pot of soup if anyoneâs hungry. Showers are down the hall. Towels are in the closet. Clean shirts in the basket.â
There was a beat of stunned silence.
âSoup would be heavenly,â John mumbled, eyes already closing.
You gave a small smile and turned toward the kitchen again.
Bucky hesitated, gently placing Alpine down as she curled onto a throw pillow. Then he followed you, slow and quiet.
You were setting down a basket of warm dinner rolls on the table when you felt the shift in the room. You didnât have to look to know who it was.
Still, you glanced over your shoulder. Bucky stood quietly near the doorway, half-shadowed by the dim kitchen light, his hands shoved in his pockets, posture stiff like he hadnât quite decided if he should be there.
âDo you need anything?â you asked, keeping your voice steady. The soup was already simmering; your hands moved automatically to the ladle.
He offered a faint smile â the kind that didn't reach his eyes. âThanks for letting us crash here.â
You nodded, focusing on the steam rising from the pot instead of the way your chest clenched. âYou all looked like hell. Someone had to be decent.â
âLook, Y/Nââ
âBucky, donât,â you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You turned to face him fully, hands still holding the ladle. âYou donât have to say anything. I know why you're here. Nearest safe house. Not personal. Itâs fine. Really.â
He hesitated, jaw tightening before giving a slow nod. âWeâll be out of your hair soon. Just need some rest.â
âThat's fine.â You turned back to fill the bowls. âAlpine misses you.â
His voice was softer this time. âI miss her too.â
You didn't answer right away. But when the bowls were full and the bread was out, you called out toward the hallway.
âLunch.â
A few thuds and grunts later, the rest of the group shuffled in like survivors of a disaster movie. Everyone looked slightly cleaner than when they arrived â but still bruised, bandaged, and about ten seconds from passing out.
Everyone except Bucky, who instinctively sat down in the seat next to yours.
Yelena took a spot across the table, her hands wrapped around her water. Ava perched at the end, still sipping her tea slowly. Alexei helped himself to three rolls before anyone else had time to blink.
John hovered awkwardly before finally taking a seat beside Alexei, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near Yelena again after their last round of bickering.
âAnd thenâoh! Oh! Bob folded his shield like a freakinâ taco,â Alexei said mid-chew, nearly choking from laughter. âJust snapped it like paper!â
Yelena chuckled. Even Ava cracked a smirk.
John looked personally offended. âItâs not that funny.â
âAnd thenâwait for itâhe ripped off Buckyâs arm.â Alexei nearly doubled over at the memory.
Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth. You turned your head so fast toward Bucky, it made your hair sway.
Bucky rolled his eyes at Alexei, but when he caught your expression â real concern flickering beneath practiced calm â his demeanor softened.
âItâs fine,â he said gently, lifting the vibranium arm a little. âReattached it without a problem.â
âAre you sure?â You were already reaching out, ignoring the way your hand trembled just slightly. You turned his arm gently, inspecting the seam where metal met flesh, eyes scanning for dents or stress damage. âDid you check everything out?â
âIâm okay,â he said, holding your gaze. You gave him a look that said you werenât convinced. So he did something he hadnât done in a long time. He squeezed your hand. âI promise. Iâm okay.â
His eyes looked at your hand, and something flickered behind them â something like a punch to the gut. It was bare. There was no ring on her finger.
Automatically, he reached up to his chest, fingers ghosting over where the chain shouldâve been.
It wasnât there.
His stomach dropped.
Buckyâs fingers frantically searched under his collar, pulling at his shirt, then dipping into his jacket pocket. Nothing.
No. No no no.
He never took it off. Ever.
His pulse spiked as he started checking every pocket.
âBucky?â you asked, watching him unravel. âWhatâs wrong?â
âThe chain,â he said hoarsely. âMy chain. Itâs gone.â
Panic etched across his face.
At the end of the table, Yelena blinked, frowning as she slipped a hand into her coat pocket. She felt the cool weight of something metallic there â something she had shoved away mid-battle and forgotten about.
When she pulled it out, her heart skipped.
It was a chain.
And dangling from it â a simple gold wedding band.
âHoly fââ she whispered, catching herself before the full curse slipped. âHoly shit.â
Everyone turned to look.
Buckyâs head snapped up.
She held the chain in her open palm like it was glowing. âThis is yours.â
He surged forward before she could say another word and plucked it from her hand like it was oxygen. His breath shuddered as he slipped it back over his neck, the ring resting once again near his heart.
Relief washed over his features â raw and unfiltered.
Your eyes locked with his.
âYou still have it,â you said, voice barely above a whisper.
Your hand brushed your ring finger again, almost absentmindedly.
âIâIâŚâ Bucky swallowed hard, words failing. His throat felt too tight.
Alexei broke the silence like a sledgehammer. âWaitâyouâre married?! Congratulations!â he bellowed, raising his glass. âThatâs adorable.â
Bucky flinched like he'd been shot.
The silence that followed was very loud.
He looked at you again â the weight of everything unspoken between you crashing back in all at once â then abruptly stood.
He didnât say anything.
He just left the room, Alpine trailing after him as the others watched, stunned.
âDid IâŚâ Alexei frowned. âDid I say something wrong? Is that not a wedding ring?â
Yelena sighed, rubbing her temple. âWeâre gonna need way more soup.â
âUh⌠weâre not married anymore,â you whispered, and the air in the room seemed to shift.
Everyone went quiet. You could feel the weight of their stares settle on you like a spotlight, but you didnât look back. You just stood, heart pounding, and walked out of the room â your feet already knowing where to go.
Of course you knew where he was.
You and Bucky had lived in this house together for two years before everything fell apart. The bones of the place hadnât changed â not the layout, not the memories buried in each room. And especially not the basement.
You made your way downstairs, the air cooler, quieter. The moment your foot hit the last step, he spoke.
âYou kept everything the same,â Bucky said, his voice low but clear. He didnât even need to turn around to know it was you.
You crossed the room and slowly sat next to him on the old couch, the one you both used to fall asleep on watching bad movies. The cushions were still slightly sunken on his side.
âOf course,â you replied, your voice gentle. âIt was our home. It felt wrong moving your thingsâŚchanging your designs.â
Silence filled the space between you. Not heavy â just full. The muffled sound of the team arguing upstairs drifted down: something about dishes, someone calling someone a jackass.
âTheyâre a good bunch,â you murmured. âVery entertaining, too.â
Bucky let out a quiet, tired laugh. âYeah. I know.â
Your eyes drifted to the chain around his neck â barely visible, but there.
âYou kept the ring,â you said softly, watching him tense just slightly.
He nodded slowly, the admission coming with a quiet sigh. âYeah. I did.â
âWhy?â
He finally turned to face you, eyes tired but sincere. âIt helps me. Grounds me. I didnât have much left to fight for after Steve left. But then there was you. And that ring⌠it gave me comfort. Protection, in a weird way. It became my good luck charm. I couldnât get rid of it after the divorce. I didnât want to.â
You felt your chest tighten, but you gave him a small, sad smile. âSo youâve been wearing it around your neck this whole time?â
He nodded again, this time more slowly. âEvery damn day,â he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair. âI couldnât take it off. Itâs stupid, I know. Makes me look like a fool.â
You shook your head and stood up, walking to the cabinet on the far wall. He watched you with guarded curiosity as you pulled out a small, velvet box and returned to the couch.
âYouâre not a fool,â you said gently. You opened the box and held it out to him. âI couldnât get rid of mine either. Every time I tried, it felt wrong, like throwing away something sacred."
His gaze dropped to the ring in your fingers, and his throat tightened. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours again.
âI really wanted our marriage to work,â he said, the words coming out like a confession.
âI know you did.â
âIâm really sorry, Y/N.â
âI know you are.â You reached for his hand and held it. It still felt the same â steady, calloused, familiar. âYou needed to find yourself, Buck. I shouldâve understood. Everything was changing so fast. Steve died. Sam had the shield. Walker was Captain America for a minute. And then⌠you got into politics. Youâre actually a congressman now.â
He let out a breath that was half-scoff, half-laugh.
âI couldnât keep up,â you continued. âAnd that was on me.â
âNo. It was on me,â he said firmly. âI didnât prioritize your feelings. I kept shutting you out â thinking I was protecting you. You were right to divorce me. I wasnât a good husband.â
You looked at him â really looked at him â and shook your head.
âBucky, no. You were an amazing husband. You just had things to work through. And I pushed myself aside instead of speaking up.â
You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace felt effortless. Like no time had passed.
His arms went around you instantly, like they never forgot how.
âIâm also sorry,â you whispered.
Buckyâs laugh was soft and bitter. âWhat the hell happened to us?â
âI donât really know,â you said, your voice muffled against his chest. âBut I missed you.â
âI missed you more.â He pressed his face into your shoulder, inhaling like he needed the scent of you to survive. Alpine purred softly at your feet, curling between your legs.
And for a while, it was enough.
Peaceful. Quiet. Just the two of you and the cat you shared, back in a place that still remembered love.
And thenâ
CRASH.
You both jumped slightly at the loud clatter upstairs.
âDid you seriously just break their bowl?â Johnâs voice rang out, horrified.
âWell, if you think you can do better, then help me wash the dishes, Walker!â Ava snapped back.
You giggled, forehead still resting against Buckyâs shoulder. âWe should go before they break more of our dishes.â
He smiled â a real one, one that reached his eyes. It lit up something in him when you said our. He tightened his hold. âA few more minutes. Theyâll survive.â
You didnât argue.
And without meaning to, both of you drifted off, curled into each other like no time had passed at all.
********
âThis is the cutest thing Iâve ever seen.â
âShut up, Alexei. Youâre being too loud.â
âWe should wake him up, though. We havenât even talked strategy.â
âWe canât. Look at them.â
âThey look like a cute, happy family.â
âWe should take a picture.â
The shutter sound was loud in the quiet room, with the flash blinding all of them.
Bucky blinked awake, eyes adjusting slowly. There was warmth on his lap â Alpine, purring softly. And in his arms, still tucked close, was you.
For a second, he didnât move.
This was what peace felt like. This was home.
âYou woke him up,â Yelena hissed. âSeriously, Dad, turn off the flash and the sound!â
Bucky looked at them â bleary-eyed and still half-asleep â and his expression dropped into something flat and dangerous.
âIâm going to give you ten seconds to leave,â he said calmly, voice low and sharp as a blade. âAnd if you donât⌠Bob will be the least of your problems.â
The team scrambled out of the room like theyâd seen a ghost.
He sighed, then looked back down at you â just as you stirred.
You blinked yourself awake slowly, eyes meeting his. He braced himself, just for a second, wondering if youâd pull away. Regret it. Pretend none of it happened.
But you didnât.
You just smiled sleepily, and snuggled closer.
âIs everything okay?â you murmured, reaching over to pat Alpine, who purred louder.
âEverythingâs just perfect,â he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
And for once, maybe for the first time in forever, Bucky believed that was true.
Summary: Being caught in the middle is always hard.
A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!! I have seen Thunderbolts* on Thursday (amazing btw) and have been craving Thunderbolts!Bucky. Also reader is like mid to late 20s.
Also double whammy with these fics. Also thank you those who requested some fics. I'm getting on them right now. Keep em coming!
Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC
3...2..1...
âI cannot believe this dude,â Sam says, pacing the living room like it personally offended him. His hands are moving almost as fast as his mouth. âI tell him Ross wants me to rebuild the Avengers, right? I open upâI mean really open up. I tell him Iâm not sure Iâm the guy for it. That maybe Steve made a mistake giving me the shield.â
He stops mid-step and points dramatically in the air, like he's building up his case.
âAnd you know what Bucky says? âNo, he didnât.â Thatâs it. No discussion. JustââNo, he didnât.â Point. Blank. Period. And I'm not gonna lie, that's all I needed to hear."
You open your mouth to say something, but Samâs already spinning toward you.
âAnd I believed him! I believed him because I thought he was my best friend.â
"Hey!" you cut in, brows raised.
Sam waves you off. âNah, nahâdonât âheyâ me. You know youâre like my sister. Ultimate mega best friend status and all that, but not the point right now. Lemme vent about your ugly boyfriend real quick.â
You throw your hands up in surrender. âGo ahead.â
âThank you!â Sam claps once, then starts pacing again. âThen I find out thereâs already a âNew Avengersââcapital N, capital Aâalready up and running. And guess whoâs right in the middle of it? Bucky! Like I wasnât gonna find out!â
He stops again, staring at you like itâs your fault. âYou know what I call that? Betrayal.â He jabs the air for emphasis. âStraight-up betrayal.â
Youâre sitting on the sofa, letting him work through it. Honestly, you couldnât blame him. Bucky had called not ten minutes ago to talk aboutâof all thingsâthe copyright on the Avengers name.
Now Sam wants to sue them.
âFourteen months,â Sam says, voice rising, âof back-and-forth with this man and his ânew family.â You remember what we went through? What he went through? Guess what? We were his family first. And now heâs calling me like Iâm the one stepping on toes? Like Iâm in the wrong for trying to do what Ross asked me to do?â
âHe told you to back off?â you ask, already knowing the answer.
Sam gives you a long-suffering look. âHe wants me to give him the rights of the name."
"So it didn't end well..." You sighed, rubbing your temples.
"Y/N⌠if Iâm venting like this, how do you think the call went?â
You try to offer something. âCanât you just⌠I donât know. Combine the teams? Be the MegaVengers or something? Steve literally said âAvengers, assembleâ and there were like a thousand people who showed up. We all kind of worked together then.â
Sam looks horrified. âNo. No combining. Itâs not about numbersâitâs about principle. That man knew what this meant to me. And now heâs trying to sidestep it like itâs nothing.â
He crosses his arms and looks at you with purpose. âYou need to talk to him. Get him to step back.â
You shake your head. âNope. Not getting in the middle of this.â
You meant it. Youâve known Sam for yearsâhe was your ride-or-die, your day-one, the brother you got to choose. But through Sam, you met Bucky. And he became your favorite person. You were in between your best friend and the love of your life.
You learned about the âNew Avengersâ team at the same time Sam did. The two of you had stared at the screen in disbelief.
But after hours of yelling at Buckyâtears, arguments, explanationsâyou got it. You understood that he hadnât meant for it to happen like this. That Valentina made moves he couldnât stop. He hadnât betrayed you⌠not intentionally.
Still, the line between intention and impact? Thatâs where Sam lived.
He stares at you for a moment, then reaches into his jacket and hands you a folded sheet of paper.
âWhatâs this?â you ask, skimming it. Then you stop. Your eyes widen.
âI want you to join my team,â he says simply. âThe new Avengers.â
Your jaw drops. âSamâŚâ
âDonât look at me like that,â he says quickly. âYou really think Iâd build a team without you? Come on. Weâve never not been on a team together.â
âSam, I⌠I canât sign this,â you say, handing the paper back. âYou know I canât.â
He rolls his eyes. âYou can. You should. Y/N, Iâve already started recruiting. Iâve got a plan, but I need my right hand. I need you.â
You stand, walking toward him. âAnd I canât go against Bucky.â
He exhales sharply, then softens. âJust⌠think about it, okay? I donât need a yes right now. Just donât say no yet.â
âSamâŚâ
âThink about it,â he says again, looking at his watch. âUghâventing sessionâs over. Gotta go pitch Ross on the plan. Wish me luck.â
He leans in, presses a quick kiss to your cheek, "Please think about it," and walks out the door.
You sit back down, staring at the paper. Then you run a hand through your hair, heart pounding.
A few quiet moments pass.
Then you grab your bag and head straight for the other tower.
*****
âJames Buchanan Barnesâyou are in so much trouble.â
Your voice echoed through the tower as you dropped your bag with a thud. The teamâscattered around the lounge doing everything from eating chips to watching TVâimmediately snapped to attention.
A chorus of "Ooooooh!" broke out like a middle school lunchroom.
Bucky stood up fast, hands already in the air like he was facing down a SWAT team. âOkay, doll, donât be mad.â
You marched forward, hands on your hips. âDonât be mad? You asked Sam to drop the Avengers name.â
âHeâs suing us!â Bucky shot back, already defensive. âWe had the name first! Val got the jump on itâwe just made it official.â
He crossed his arms like a stubborn teenager. Behind him, his teammates exchanged exasperated looks, a few shaking their heads like, here we go again.
âAre you both five?â you snapped. âYou need to talk. Face to face. Not through lawyers. Not through phones. Like actual adults.â
âHe doesnât want to see me,â Bucky muttered. âAnd honestly, I donât want to see him either.â
He tried to hold his glare, but it faltered when he looked at you. He could see it written all over your face: this was tearing you up. And he hated that heâd played a part in it.
âI saw Sam today,â you said quietly. âHe asked me to join his team.â
The room fell completely silent. Even Yelena put down her snack.
Bucky blinked. âAnd⌠whatâd you say?â
âI told him no. For now. But he asked me to think about it.â
Bucky scoffed like that was the dumbest thing heâd ever heard. âThink about it? Whatâs there to think about? Youâre not joining them.â
Your eyes narrowed. âExcuse me?â
Every single person in the room physically cringed. Even Red Guardian mouthed oh no.
âYouâre not serious right now,â you said, voice low and dangerous. âDid you just try to tell me what to do?â
âIâm saying Samâs being irrational,â Bucky argued, digging his own grave. âHeâs suing us, Y/N. You canât join them. Thatâs not how this works.â
You stepped toward him, fire in your eyes. âHeâs not being irrational. Heâs hurt, Bucky. He thinks you betrayed him. And the truth? Even if it wasnât on purposeâyou kind of did.â
Bucky opened his mouth, but no words came out.
âI get it,â you added, softer now. âHe shouldnât have filed a lawsuit. Itâs messy. But thisâthis whole thingâis a disaster. And youâre both too stubborn to fix it.â
Bucky slowly reached for you, pulling you into his arms. âIâm sorry,â he murmured into your hair. âI never wanted to put you in the middle of this. I just... I wonât give up on this team.â
You let him hold you, but your heart was heavy. âI know,â you whispered, then gave him a small kiss. âBut I canât keep being the bridge between you two.â
He pulled back, looking at you. âThen donât be. Move in with me. You said you were thinking about it. And hell, you could just join us too. Weâd be unstoppable.â
You stepped back, blinking. âAre you seriously asking me to join your team right after I told you Sam asked me the same thing? Are you kidding me, Bucky?â
âNot cool,â Yelena muttered, earning a death glare from Bucky.
Then your phone rangâloud and dramatic. Mariah Careyâs voice filled the room. You groaned and answered.
âWhat, Sam?â
âFigured you were over there,â he said. âSo Iâll keep it short. Ross and I have a few new recruits saying yes already. We might fast-track things. So I need an answer. ASAP.â
âYou gave me thirty minutesââ
âThirty minutes for what?â Bucky leaned in, practically pressing his ear to your phone.
âWould you stop?â you muttered, pushing him back.
âIs that Barnes?â Sam asked over the line. âYo, Barnesâfuck you.â
Bucky blinked. âWhat did he just say?â
You sighed. âHe saidââ
âI said fuck you,â Sam shouted, louder this time.
You snapped.
âThatâs it!â you barked, stepping between the two of them. âBoth of you, shut up.â
The room fell into stunned silence.
âI am so done being in the middle of your pissing contest,â you said, voice shaking now. âYou used to be a family. We used to be a family. And you two are tearing it apart like a couple of overgrown toddlers.â
Bucky looked like heâd been slapped. Sam was silent on the other end.
âYou know whatâs really messed up?â you added. âYou both say you love me, you both trust meâbut youâre trying to make me pick between you. And I wonât. I wonât.â
Everyone was still, barely breathing.
Then Sam, faint over the phone: âWait⌠Did Barnes ask you to join the FAKEngers?â
âWeâre the real Avengers, for the record,â Bucky muttered.
âOh my god,â you said, throwing your hands up. âIâm done. Until you both grow up and get your shit together, Iâm out. Iâm not picking sides.â
You turned, grabbed your bag, and stormed toward the door.
âWaitâwhat do you mean?â Bucky called, chasing after you.
You turned back, pointing between him and your phone. âI love you, Bucky. And Samâyouâre my brother. But if you two canât stop acting like enemies, then you donât get to have me caught in the crossfire.â
And with that, you hung up the call and walked out.
Back in the room, Walker slowly picked up the paper. âOuch,â he said, wincing. âDonât you just hate when they walk away?â
Yelena smacked him in the head. âYouâre not helping.â
***********
It had been a few days since everything explodedâand both Sam and Bucky were unraveling in their own ways.
Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it: the quiet ache where you used to be. The texts left on read. The silence that said more than any shouting match ever could.
Eventually, they both found themselves doing the same thingâsitting alone, staring at their phones, thumbs hovering over each other's names.
Bucky sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and hit the contact.
Samâs phone lit up. He stared at the screen for a long second before finally answering.
âBarnes,â Sam said flatly.
âWilson,â Bucky replied, just as dry.
A beat.
Then Bucky exhaled. âI miss her.â
Samâs voice was quieter this time. âYeah. Me too.â
Another pause.
âWe gotta fix this,â Bucky said. âThis whole thing⌠itâs not worth losing her over.â
âNo, itâs not,â Sam agreed. âWe should talk. In person. Try to settle this."
âTomorrow?â Bucky asked.
âYeah. Tomorrowâs good.â
âAlright.â
âCool.â
ââŚFine.â
ââŚFine.â
They hung up.
No apologies yet. Not out loud.
But it was a start.
Maybe this whole MegaVengers idea wasnât so bad after all.
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Summary: You're Valentina's assistant, and somehow, you manage to fall in love with a certain Congressman.
A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!! I have seen Thunderbolts* on Thursday (amazing btw) and have been craving Thunderbolts!Bucky. Also reader is like 25.
Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC
3...2..1...
You worked your whole life to get here. Straight Aâs, a top-tier college, a string of impressive jobs that made your parents brag to their friends.
But that wasnât the point. You didnât do all of that just to climb a ladder. You wanted to help people. To actually do good. To give the voiceless a voice, to step in where others wouldnât. You wanted to make the world better, even if it was just piece by piece.
Thatâs what led you to OXE. And eventually, to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.
Or, more accurately, to being her assistant. Though calling it that feels like selling it short.
Youâve been working with her for a few years now. From the very beginning, she seemed to like you. Said you reminded her of herself. Youâre still not sure if that was a compliment or a warning.
Valentina can be cold. Sheâs sharp, calculated, sarcastic to the point of painful. Some of her decisions donât exactly land on the moral high ground. But she took you in, brought you closer, taught you how to survive in a world most people don't even know exists. And youâve done things others your age only dream about. You were actually making a difference.
But now everythingâs falling apart.
Sheâs under investigation. Impeachment is on the table. And youâre left trying to put out fires.
Youâd been tense the entire hearing. And not the kind of tension that goes away with a few deep breaths. This was chest-tightening, eye-twitching, every-decision-matters tension.
Your job was on the line. Everything youâd worked for â or convinced yourself was worth it â was balancing on Valentinaâs ability to lie with a smile.
She was performing. You were managing the fallout.
Your eyes kept drifting â trying to find some kind of anchor. And thatâs when you caught a pair of them.
Blue. Cold but curious. Watching.
Congressman Bucky Barnes.
You met his stare, held it a second longer than you shouldâve, then forced yourself to look away. Whatever that was â whatever he was trying to read â you didnât have time to entertain it.
Then Valentina dropped the line youâd been dreading: âBy all means, dig as deep as you like. I promiseâthereâs nothing to find.â
You knew that tone. It meant you had twenty minutes to erase every breadcrumb.
By the time the hearing adjourned, you were already outside, typing fast, juggling secure files and decoy trails on your tablet. You barely noticed the footsteps untilâ
âY/N?â
You looked up, and there he was. Again.
That same cool stare, now paired with a too-casual smile.
âCongressman Barnes,â you said smoothly, tucking the tablet under your arm. âNice to officially meet you. Iâve heard...great things.â
âI doubt it. Also, please just Bucky,â he said, offering a hand. âUnless you want to start talking tax policy â then Iâll put the tie back on.â
You cracked a smile and shook his hand. Firm. Warm. Too steady.
âYou okay?â he asked, glancing back toward the hearing room. âI mean, what happened in there was... honestly? Kind of worrying. Extremely worrying. Kind of concerning if you ask me...in like a worrying way.â
You tilted your head. âYou mean âconcerning,â or âIâm building a case against your bossâ worrying?â
He blinked. Didnât expect you to hit back that fast.
You smiled politely. âNo need to dance around it. Iâm sure youâve got a folder somewhere with Valentina's name on it.â
His grin crooked slightly. âMaybe. Itâs a very organized folder. Color-coded tabs.â
âShe always did love being underestimated,â you said with a shrug. âO.X.E. has nothing to hide, of course.â
He didnât argue, but the look he gave you said he wasnât buying it.
There was a beat of silence, and then he glanced over your shoulder â where Valentina was watching the two of you, pretending she wasnât.
âShe always stare like that?â he asked casually.
âOnly when she thinks someoneâs wasting my time.â
âAnd am I?â
âDepends on why youâre really here.â
He smiled. âOkay, fine. Iâm new to D.C. First term, still finding my way. Thought maybe... you could give me a tour. Show me the non-corrupt parts.â
You laughed softly. âThatâs a short list.â
âStill. Monuments, museums, a little fresh air â maybe a conversation?â
You narrowed your eyes slightly. âRight. A conversation. Just two people talking. No ulterior motives, no recording devices, no traps.â
He held up his hands. âI left the wire at home.â
You smirked, but you didnât let it reach your eyes. âYouâre a terrible liar.â
âIâm not lying,â he said. âJust... improvising.â
You leaned in just enough for him to know you were done playing. âYouâre fishing, Congressman. Iâm just not the one youâll catch.â
He opened his mouth â maybe to protest, maybe to flirt again â but you stepped back as Valentina waved you over.
âYou're a very good-looking man,â you added, softer now. âAnd I appreciate the effort. But whatever youâre hoping to dig up from me? You wonât get it over coffee and small talk.â
A beat passed between you.
Then you gave him one last smirk, turned, and walked back toward Valentina â leaving him standing there, watching.
And even though you didnât look back, you knew those blue eyes hadnât moved.
*******
You had three things on your mind.
Shut down headquarters.
Erase every trace of Project Sentry.
Clean up Valentinaâs reputation before the whole thing implodes.
And somehow, you're doing all of that in a dress and heels at a fundraiser.
âHonestly, Y/N, you have such an amazing brain,â Valentina says, her smile more calculated than warm. âPutting this fundraiser together? Brilliant move. This has to sway at least some of the votes.â
âThanks,â you reply, quickly scrolling through your tablet. âIâve categorized the guest list: influencers, allies, and the undecideds. Left off the hard noâs. No point wasting time. I just sent the files to you.â
âPerfect. Do I need you for anything else?â
âNo, you should be good. Iâll stay close though. Just in case.â
âSmart. Stay where I can see you. And hear you. Actually, just donât go far,â she says, already turning to work the room. âTime to network.â
As soon as she walks away, you exhale, realizing you hadnât even noticed you were holding your breath.
This job is not for the weak. Especially not under someone like her.
You glance around the room, taking in the glittering lights, expensive suits, and fake smiles. Your eyes find Valentina again, instinctively keeping track of her. Then they drift to the large Avengers logo on display at the front of the gala.
You were still a kid the first time you saw the Avengers on screen. They were larger than life. Heroes. They saved people. They made things right.
Now? Youâve seen the world fall apart more times than you can count. And more often than not, no one shows up to fix it.
Thatâs why youâve stuck by Valentina. Why youâve been willing to blur the lines. The world still needs saving. People still need heroes.
They just donât always look the way you imagined.
âYou know,â a voice says beside you, calm but unmistakably familiar, âthis whole gala is impressive. The Avengers memorabilia is a nice touch.â
You turn and see him. Congressman Bucky Barnes, standing just a few feet away, his gaze locked on the towering Avengers "A" on display like it still meant something.
âValentina thought it would help raise awareness,â you reply, keeping your tone neutral, polite. âTie the past to the present. Nostalgia works.â
Youâre careful with your words. You know why heâs here, what game heâs playing. And more importantly, you know where your loyalty lies.
He glances at you now, the full weight of those ice-blue eyes meeting yours. âAwareness for what, exactly?â
You offer a small smile, one that doesnât quite reach your eyes. âThe mission has always been simple. Help the people. The worldâs been falling apart, and heroes⌠theyâve disappeared. People need someone to believe in again.â
He nods slowly, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. âAgain, call me Bucky. Also, that was good. Very rehearsed. Very polished. Bet Valentina was proud of that one.â
You narrow your eyes slightly. âI know what youâre doing.â
âIâm just here for the hors d'oeuvres,â he says, voice smooth, but you catch the edge underneath it.
You take a step closer. âLook, Congressman Barnes. I know your history. And we both know what happens when evil comes and no one is there to stop it. OXE is trying to prevent that. Everything we do is for the people. Valentinaâs impeachment? It wonât go anywhere.â
Even as you say it, there's a flicker of doubt. Small, but there.
He studies you for a moment before pulling a card from inside his jacket and holding it out.
âWhatâs this?â you ask, accepting it cautiously.
âMy direct line. In case you remember something useful.â
You blink at him, caught slightly off guard by how calm he is. How sure.
You move closer, slow and deliberate, then reach up and tuck the card neatly into his chest pocket. âI donât know what you think youâre implying, but I donât appreciate it."
The two of you lock eyes, silence stretching between you. Not hostile, exactly. But charged. Neither of you blinks.
Then your phone buzzes.
You glance at your phone. Valentina. Of course.
You slip it back into your pocket and look up at him one more time.
âI have to go,â you say, steady. âEnjoy the rest of the gala, Bucky.â
Your smile is polite, but your eyes stay sharp. You turn and walk off without waiting for a response, the sound of your heels swallowed by the noise of the event.
Behind you, he watches you disappear into the crowd, quiet and thoughtful. Then, without a word, he finds himself slipping the card into your bag later in the night. Not for pressure. Not even for leverage.
Just in case.
And whether you used the card or notâthat was your choice.
Bucky just hoped heâd planted the seed.
Later that night, you sat beside Valentina in the back of a sleek black car, the city lights flickering across her face as she debriefed the night with a grin.
âI think that went incredibly well,â she said, proud and pleased with herself. âHonestly, Iâm so proud of us. Ohâhand me my tablet. I gave it to you earlier when Gary started sniffing around asking too many questions.â
Your fingers found something thin. Smooth edges. Not the tablet.
The card.
Buckyâs card.
Your stomach tightened, just for a second.
Heâd slipped it in without you noticing. Of course he had.
You stared at it between your fingers. You shouldâve tossed it the second you felt it. Shouldâve never looked at it again. But something kept your hand still.
âY/N?â Valentinaâs voice cuts in, sharp and expectant. âTablet. Me. Now.â
You snap out of it, quickly pushing the card deeper into your bag before pulling out the tablet and handing it over.
She doesnât notice. Sheâs already scrolling.
You tried to focus on the nightâs success, the way people clapped when Valentina spoke, the headlines you knew would be glowing by morning. But that card was still in your bag. And the worst part? You couldnât stop thinking about it.
About the look in his eyes.
About the weight of what he said.
Maybeâjust maybeâhe really did get in your head.
And maybe that seed he planted was already starting to grow.
*********
Youâd made a mistake. A big one.
And you knew it.
Your heart raced as you paced the cramped hallway, mind spiraling. You'd believed you were making a differenceâhelping Valentina clean up her reputation felt like part of that. She said she needed you. That this was how things got done. So you listened.
Then she told you to burn the loose ends. Literally burn them.
Human beings.
And still, you followed orders. You rationalized. You looked the other way.
But the plan didnât go as expected. They didnât go quietly.
They were fighting back.
And Valentina didnât like that.
Now a SWAT team is going to finish the job.
You couldn't let them die. You knew their names. Their stories. You didnât believe they deserved thisânot like this. Maybe it was too late to save them all, but maybe you could help save others.
Maybe there was still a chance.
So you did the only thing you could think of.
You dug into your bag, searching through the chaos until your fingers found it. That damn card.
You stared at it for a beat. Then you called.
It rang once. Then again. And then he picked up.
âThis is Y/N,â you said before he could get a word in, your voice low, rushed, almost breathless. âIâve, uh... been thinking. Remember that tour you wanted? You were right. Since youâre new to D.C., I figuredâwhy not? Letâs hit the monuments. Maybe a museum. Or... I donât know. Just talk. Just you and me.â
There was a beat of silence.
âA chat?â Buckyâs voice came through, teasingly. You started biting your nails, heart pounding. âYeah. Iâm down for a chat. When and where?â
Before you could answer, Valentinaâs voice sliced through the hallway outside.
âI swear to god, Y/N, do I have to spell it out for you? You're coming with us. Get your ass in the car. Who else is going to make my coffee right? I swear, you Gen Zers make me want to throw myself off this damn building.â
You went silent, your jaw clenched. Bucky didnât say anything either, but you knew he heard it.
Everything inside you was pulling in different directions. Guilt. Fear. Fury. Shame.
You swallowed hard.
âLookâŚâ you whispered, voice shaking a little. âIâm sorry about the last few times. You were right. You were always right. I was so stupid. She doesnât care about the world. She just wants the glory.â
You were rambling now. You always did when your anxiety started creeping up your throat.
âWhoa, heyâslow down, sweetheart,â he said gently. âItâs okay. Youâre okay. Just tell me what I need to know.â
But before you could speak again, Valentina shouted your name, louder this time.
You turned slightly, lowered your voice again.
âDo you have an iPhone?â
âNo. Samsung.â
You rolled your eyes. Of course. âDo you know how to track a phone?â
âI mean, yeah. But I donât really do that anymore.â
âWell... start doing it again.â
You paused, then added quietly, âI have to go. Track my location. You'll get your answer.â
Then you hung up.
You let out a long breath, pushed the card deep back into your bag, and ran toward Valentinaâs voice.
Hoping Bucky understood.
**********
You were pacing again. Nerves buzzing. Mind racing. You were worried about the others. They escaped when Bob distracted them. Then they couldn't find them. But something told you Bucky had gotten to them first. You could feel it in your gut.
He pulled through. Of course he did.
But now⌠there was a new problem.
Bob.
The new guy. The unstable one.
He wasnât like the others. Something about him was off from the start. Too volatile. Too quick to react. And now he had powers â real powers â thanks to Valentina.
She said he was the future. Said he was the key.
But all you saw was a ticking bomb with a name tag.
He didnât need power or exposure. He needed help. And if no one stepped in soon, he was going to destroy everything â maybe even himself.
You ducked into a quiet hallway, slipped into an empty supply closet, and dialed Buckyâs number with shaking hands.
He picked up on the first ring.
âY/N,â he said, breathless like heâd been mid-action. âWeâre good. I got them. Everyoneâs safe. Iâm keeping them under wraps as witnesses, so weâre covered. You did the right thing calling me. Thank you.â
You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall.
âNo,â you said softly. âBucky, thereâs more. A lot more.â
There was a pause.
âTalk to me.â
âShe did it,â you whispered. âShe actually made one. A super soldier. His nameâs Bob.â
âBob?â he repeated, half in disbelief, half already bracing for what was coming next.
You could hear background chatter on his end â voices muttering âYeah, Bob,â
âYes. Bob the super soldier. Heâs... not stable, Bucky. Heâs got powers, strength, speed â but his head isnât right. Heâs spiraling, and Valentinaâs using him like heâs a tool.
You were rambling now, the anxiety bubbling up in your chest.
âSheâs restarting the entire program, and this guy â heâs the prototype. And if she gets away with this, there will be more. Stronger. You have to stop it before it turns into something we canât come back from.â
There was silence on the line. Then you heard him moving, footsteps pacing across concrete.
âAlright,â he said. âIâm coming. Iâll handle it.â
You let out a shaky breath. âThank you.â
âHey,â his voice softened, âare you okay?â
âI... I donât know,â you admitted, voice cracking just slightly. âEverything I worked for is going to be for nothing. I'm freaking out.â
âYou donât have to carry this alone, you know.â
âI can't tell my friends or family.â you said, quieter now. âI already feel guilty and shameful enough. They would just make me feel worse.â
Another pause. Then softer, âY/N... I meant what I said. You did the right thing. And Iâm proud of you. Really.â
You smiled, even though he couldnât see it. âThanks. That means more than you probably realize.â
âI realize it,â he said. And it was quiet, but it hit you harder than it shouldâve.
You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. âAre they okay? The others?â
âTheyâre safe. A little roughed up, but theyâre going to be fine.â
âGood. Thatâs good,â you said, exhaling. âI should go. Iâll keep feeding you updates when I can. Just⌠get here fast, alright?â
âOkay,â He finally whispered. âIâll see you soon.â
You hung up and slipped the phone back into your pocket before walking out the door. You immediately froze when your boss stared at you with raised eyebrows.
âWell,â she said coolly, âout of everyone, I never thought you would be the one second-guessing your work.â
You didnât flinch. Not this time. âGiving Bob those powers? Itâs reckless. And you know it.â
She clicked her tongue, shaking her head like you were some disappointing intern instead of her right hand. âIâm not going to argue with you, kid. I like you. I really do. Youâve done exceptional workâwith me. For us. Thatâs why Iâm giving you a little time to get your head on straight.â
Your jaw clenched. You said nothing.
âBut,â she added, stepping a little closer, lowering her voice, âdonât let Barnes cloud that beautiful brain of yours. Heâs a distraction. A loud, inconvenient one. And heâs getting in the way.â
You met her gaze evenly, letting the silence stretch.
Then, without a word, you grabbed your purse and walked past herâheels clicking, spine straight.
You needed to find Bucky.
*********
"Ladies and gentlemen, meet the New Avengers."
After countless photos and a barrage of questions, you kept your smile steady, doing your job one last time.
âThank you all for coming,â you said with calm finality. âPhotos and questions will stop here. Iâll be in touch about the next press briefing soon. Seriouslyâthank you again.â
You gave a polite nod as Valentina waved beside you, her signature smirk in place.
As the crowd began to disperse, you turned your attention to the Thunderbolts. With a gentle but firm push, you guided them out of view, away from the cameras. And thenâwithout thinkingâyou grabbed Bucky and pulled him into a hug.
You couldnât stop yourself.
Youâd been searching for him. Panicking. Lost. The last image you had was of him stepping into the Void. The moment his silhouette became just thatâa shadowâyou screamed his name. And then⌠nothing.
You thought youâd lost him.
But now, here he was. Alive. Solid. Real. And all the emotions youâd buried came rushing back.
You knew there was something between youâsomething electric, something raw and waiting. It had barely started, but it already meant something. And for a bit, you'd been mourning the future that never got a chance to begin.
Now, you didnât have to mourn anymore.
The moment stretched. Everyone around you went quiet. You barely registered your boss muttering an uneasy, âOh dear.â
Bucky froze, stiff in your arms. He glanced around, uncertain. John gave him a look before mimicking hugging someone. Alexei flashed a thumbs-up. The girls? They just smirked.
âI saw you,â you whispered, pulling back just slightly. âI saw you walk into the Void. You became a shadow. IâI was trying to find you, and then you pulled that crap. What the hell, Barnes?â
He opened his mouth, but you beat him to itâstepping back before he could even return the embrace.
âIâm okay,â he said gently. âI swear, Iâm fine.â He just wanted you back into his arms.
âYou still scared the hell out of me,â you said, your voice breaking just a little. âI thought you were gone for good.â
Bucky's expression softened. âIâm not going anywhere. You still owe me that tour, remember?â
You laughedâhalf out of relief, half because it suddenly felt so easy to breathe again. You stepped closer, pulled him into a kiss, and he kissed you back without hesitation. Sparks. Heat. Home.
When you finally pulled away, smiling, you whispered, âLooks like you caught me.â
He grinned. âLooks like I have.â
Then you kissed again.
A loud groan broke the moment. âI feel like Iâm gonna barf,â Val muttered.
âShut up, Val,â the entire team replied in unison.
Requested: No but I saw a clip of Katniss asking Haymitch to save Peeta and needed to write this.
Type: Angst/ Fluff (Lol I just love angst)
Summary: After hearing Snowâs announcement about the Quarter Quell, you instinctively turn to your only true comfortâcooking. But as the weight of reality settles in, you realize not even that can save you this time.
Haymitch Abernathy x Victor! Female Reader
A.N: Not part of the 'A Pawn Once More' universe. Also I haven't read Sunrise on the Reaping, so please, No Spoilers.
********
Coping mechanisms are strange things. They wear different faces for different people. Some drown in liquor, some run until their legs give out, and some unravel completelyâmind, body, soul.
Yours was quieter. Softer. Safer. Yours was cooking.
It had always been your anchor, your escape hatch, the only way to keep your hands busy when your thoughts threatened to devour you. Baking pies, roasting chickens, chopping onions until your eyes stung from something other than tears. It didnât matter what you madeâit only mattered that you were making something. Creating, when the world around you was constantly tearing itself apart.
And today... today, you needed it more than ever. You didnât want the distraction. You needed it. You needed to drown in it. To be consumed.
Because the words were still echoing in your mind, sharp and cruel:
âThe tributes will be reaped from the pool of existing victors.â
Over and over, like a broken record slicing through your skull.
Youâd heard it live, sitting next to Haymitch on the worn-down couch in his house. The two of you had been tense, uneasy, as you waited for the Presidentâs address.
You had a bad feeling. You knew the Victorsâ Tour hadnât gone unnoticed. You could feel the Capitolâs eyes narrowing, feel the shift in the air. Katniss and Peeta had become more than just victorsâthey had become threats. And threats, in the Capitol, didnât last long.
Still, even with all that dread festering in your gut, you never imagined this.
Shock didnât even begin to cover what you felt when the words were spoken aloud. It was like the floor had caved in beneath you. Like youâd been hurled into ice-cold water, lungs filling with something heavy and impossible to breathe.
Dread and anguish clawed their way up your spine, wrapping around your throat until you could barely move. You slapped a hand over your mouth, the instinct to scream cut short by sheer disbelief.
Youâd won your Games at eighteen. The 56th Hunger Games. You could still see it, still feel it under your skin. Haymitch had been your mentor thenâtwenty-two years old and already unraveling at the seams. Youâd come out the other side shattered but breathing. Heâd barely looked at you at first, too drunk or too bitter or maybe both. But you stuck around anyway.
You always stuck around.
After the Games, you fell into the role of caretaker almost naturally. Haymitch pushed you away, again and again, snarling and drinking and pretending he didnât need anyone. But you stayed. You always stayed.
Even after everything, there was still a softness to you that hadnât been burned out by the arena. A light he didnât understand. A part of himâone heâd never admit out loudâsometimes wished you had died in those Games. Just to spare you this. Just to spare you him.
But you were stronger than he gave you credit for.
He still remembered the first time he saw you after your Victory Tour. Youâd shown up at his door with a pot of soupâtoo much for one person, just enough for two. You smiled, awkward and hopeful, and he hadnât had the strength to tell you to leave.
You latched onto him like a leech, heâd joked more than once. But somewhere along the line, he stopped trying to shake you off.
He grew to love you for it.
Nothing was ever official between you. No labels. No promises. But you both knew what it was. There were kisses sometimes, soft and rare and meaningful. Hugs that lasted just a little too long. Touches that lingered.
You were more than friends, even if neither of you had the courage to say it aloud.
Haymitch was terrified. Of letting you in. Of letting himself care. Of losing you. The Capitol had taken everyone else from himâfamily, friends, lovers. But you? He wasnât sure heâd survive it.
He never said those things. But you knew.
You always knew.
You remembered the sound of his glass shattering when the announcement aired. It jolted you from your frozen state. His scream cracked through the silence, guttural and raw.
You rushed to him, wrapped your arms around him, held on as tight as you could. Your tears soaked into his shirt as his fury trembled beneath your hands.
At some point, exhaustion pulled you under. You woke up curled on the couch, head resting in his lap, his hand loosely tangled in your hair. He was already deep into his second bottle of whiskey when your eyes opened.
Then Peeta walked through the door.
And just like that, you knew it was time to go.
Haymitch needed to focus, to pull himself togetherâfor them, for what was coming. And you needed to do the only thing that ever gave you peace.
You needed to cook.Â
After hours in the kitchen, surrounded by boiling pots and the scent of fresh bread, you finally packed everything up. Youâd made enough food to feed a battalionâstew, bread, potatoes, something sweet for afterward.
But none of it was really for you. It never was.
You headed to Haymitchâs house, balancing the food in your arms, knowing without a doubt he hadnât eaten a damn thing all day. Maybe Peeta was still with him. Maybe Katniss should be there too. You were all caught in the same storm, walking the same nightmare in different shoes. The least you could doâthe only thing you could doâwas feed them through it.
As you lifted your foot to kick the door open, too burdened with containers to knock, it creaked open from the inside. Katniss stood there, coat on, about to step out.
âKatniss,â you breathed, a little surprised. âHi. You're not staying for dinner?â
You adjusted a heavy dish nearly slipping from your grip. âYou should. Bring Peeta, too. I cooked enough to make the Capitol jealous.â
She offered a faint, weary smile. âI was just heading out. But thank you.â
You studied her faceâtight, drawn, eyes a little too empty. You knew that look. Youâd worn it yourself.
âIâll send some leftovers,â you said gently, lowering your voice. âAfter I deal with the old grump inside.â
She gave a soft huff, amused but sad. âThanks,â she murmured, stepping aside to let you in.
Before she left, you paused.
âIâm not going to ask if youâre okay,â you said, eyes meeting hers. âBecause that would be insulting. But I want you to knowâIâm here. Whenever you need me.â
Katniss nodded. âI know,â she said softly. And then she was gone.
You nudged the door shut with your foot and carried the food into the kitchen, setting it all down with a relieved sigh.
âMitch? I made way too much bread,â you called out. âAnd lamb stew. Still need to finish the potatoes, butââ
You stopped. Your words died as your eyes landed on him in the living room.
Haymitch sat slumped on the couch, a glass of liquor hanging from his hand, already halfway gone. His expression was unreadable, but his eyesâhis eyes were heavy with something that felt like resignation.
âHey,â you said carefully, âwhat did Katniss and Peeta want?â
He didnât look at you right away. Just took a long, slow drink.
âPeeta came to ask me to protect Katniss,â he finally muttered. âAnd Katniss⌠she asked me to save Peeta.â
Your stomach twisted. You stepped closer. âSave him how?â
He looked at you thenâreally looked at youâand shrugged like it meant nothing.
âIf his name is drawn, Iâm volunteering.â
The words hit you like a slap. You blinked, not understanding at first.
âThereâs no way in hell youâre volunteering,â you snapped. âAre you serious? They both asked you to die for them?â
His silence was answer enough.
âHaymitch,â you hissed, voice sharp with disbelief, âyou canât be serious.â
âI promised her,â he said, so quietly it was almost a sigh.
You stared at him in disbelief. Rage and fear tangled inside you, hot and suffocating. You stormed toward him, snatching the bottle from his hand and slamming it on the table.
âYou promised me, too,â you snapped. âYears ago. After my Games. You promised you wouldnât do anything reckless. And guess what, Haymitch? Youâre keeping that promise.â
His jaw clenched, but he didnât yell. He didnât even try to take the bottle back.
âSweetheart,â he said, quiet and tired, âitâs not that simple.â
âIt is that simple.â Your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes. âYou canât volunteer. You canât go back. You canât leave me.â
He stood abruptly, glass forgotten, and crossed the room in three strides. His hands came up to cradle your face, rough and trembling.
âIâm not losing you,â he said, eyes burning into yours.
âWhat?â you whispered, barely able to speak.
âI told Katniss Iâd volunteer for Peeta,â he said. âBut only if she swore to volunteer for you if your name is called.â
You froze. Tears slipped down your cheeks. âYou⌠what?â
âYouâre not going back in that arena. Not while Iâm breathing. I wonât let them have you again.â
You were his first tribute. His first win. His first reason to feel something again after his own nightmare. And now, the thought of losing youâof watching you walk toward another arenaâwas something he physically couldnât bear.
âYou donât get to decide that,â you whispered, voice shaking with anger and grief. âYouâre being a hypocrite. Youâre not playing fair.â
âNothing about this is fair,â he snapped, his own voice raw. âBut I donât give a damn about fairness. I care about you. And keeping you out of that arena is the only thing I care about right now.â
You were shaking. âHow could they even ask you to do that?â
He gave a bitter smile, small and broken. âBecause they know the truth. I donât have anything left. If I go, no one will care.â
Your heart shattered. âIâll care,â you sobbed, gripping his shirt. âYou have me. You canât leave me. I wonât survive it, Haymitch. I canâtââ
He pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped around you like iron, grounding you, keeping you from unraveling completely.
âShhhh, sweetheart,â he whispered, his own voice cracking. âIâm not going anywhere. I promise. Iâm right here.â
Your body trembled in his arms, his warmth the only thing tethering you to the earth.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands still cupping your face. His eyes were misted over, his thumb brushing away a tear you didnât even realize had fallen.
His guilt lingered, heavy, but your safety outweighed it all. If there was one thing he knew he'd never regret, it was protecting you.
He pulled back slightly, his hands gentle as they cradled your face. âYou know what?â he said softly. âI could really go for some chocolate cake. Letâs bake one.âHe said it because he knew cooking calmed you, grounded you.
You let out a watery laugh through your tears. He was trying to make everything feel normal. Safe. Familiar.
But in that moment, for the first time in a long time, you didnât want to cook.
You didnât want distractions. You didnât want stew or bread or cake.
You just wanted him.
I'm working on some requests! Should be out in a few days!!!!