Warnings: swearing, reader has trauma, heavily implied past abuse, throwing up
Summary: Bucky and his colleague offer you a place to stay for the night.
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N - I promise the story will be cute after time, but I got a story I wanna tell, so I'm gonna tell it! Any feedback is appreciated! Fanfic writers are usually living off scraps!
Previous part
The man laughed as he opened the door.
“You're lucky I was in town. By the way, it's nice of you to finally return my calls.”
“I didn't return your call, we just needed a place to stay for the night.”
Bucky gestured you into the hotel room, past the man now scowling at him. He clapped him firmly on the shoulder before brushing past him and following you in.
You're pretty sure you had seen this man in the news over the years as well, but you had to be honest, you didn’t recognize him too well. He certainly didn't get as much coverage as Captain America or Iron Man.
You sat in the second flimsy chair at the miniature table near the hotel room TV, adjacent from Bucky. The man closed the door, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat down on the bed, facing the two of you. Try as you might, you can't remember his name.
That's okay, you hadn't known Bucky's name either, until he had introduced himself as James Barnes to you, and you turned to Google to fill in the blanks on where he looked familiar from. Come to think of it, he had never introduced himself as Bucky to you. Maybe you should just be calling him James…
“So, you gonna tell me what's going on? Your place compromised or something?”
“Sam, this is my neighbor -” He gestured gently to you, telling him your name. He gestured from you back to Sam. “This is my colleague, Sam.”
“Colleague? C'mon man, would it really kill you to call us friends?”
“Yes.”
Sam let out some sort of guffaw, and leaned forward, extending his hand to you.
“It's good to finally meet the cute neighbor. I'm Sam, Bucky's best friend, even when he doesn't return my calls.” A pointed look towards said best friend.
Your cheeks warmed and you chuckled as you shook his hand. Bucky nodded at you - Sam had called him Bucky, so at least now you felt more comforted that you could as well.
“He's not my best friend.”
“I'm his only friend, pretty sure that automatically makes me the best.” Sam winked.
Bucky rolled his shoulders as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“(Y/N)’s ex is moving out of their apartment tonight, and she needed a place to stay. My place isn't very comfortable and I couldn't think of any furniture stores open this late.”
“Well then, I'm glad you called. His apartment is pretty miserable, right?” You hid a soft laugh behind your hand. “I've been telling him he needed to get some decorations, maybe a couch, a TV! Sounds like it's still boring as hell though?”
“I did throw up on his floor.”
Sam's eyebrows rose as he gave an approving laugh. “Well there you go! That's something! I'm sure his apartment hasn't been so blessed since I gave him that dingy-ass birdhouse!”
You felt a little lighter since leaving Bucky's apartment. A little. The time had given you a little bit of a cushion to get a grasp of your feelings. The little bit of food you had been able to get down with Sam's encouragement and Bucky's attentive watch had helped a ton as well. Now, as you sat on the floor of the cramper hotel shower, hot water cascading over you, you just felt exhausted.
A soft knock at the door and Bucky gently calling your name.
“- you ok? You've been in there for an hour.” You could hear Sam's voice in this background, but you couldn't make out what he said. “Right! Not like there’s anything wrong with being in there for an hour! Take all the time you need! I just wanted to check in.”
You brushed the hair that had mopped in front of your eyes back over your forehead and chuckled lightly to yourself. “Yeah, I'm ok, I'll be out in a minute.”
You shut off the hot water and reached for a clean towel, sighing gratefully at its softness.
Sam had even given you a clean set of clothes, a wife-beater tank and some loose sweat-shorts, the old Avengers logo printen on the left leg just above your knee.
You were used to wearing more modest clothing, but you were grateful for something clean to wear. And honestly, you were grateful for the newness as well, no memories attached at all to the outfit you were wearing or the room you'd be sleeping in. The sentiment made you feel even a little bit lighter.
You took a stabilizing deep breath before you opened the bathroom door back into the main room. You didn't miss the way Sam's eyebrows lifted subtly, or Bucky's face hardened, as you stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing after you, wisping at your ankles.
You kept your face still as you searched Bucky's eyes. As his eyes searched you. All of you. For the first time ever, you couldn't hide the bruises that littered your whole body - anywhere that your pants or a long sleeve shirt could cover.
“I'm going to kill him.” He growled quietly, but you still heard him.
“No you won't. I'm fine.”
“You sure don't look fine!” Bucky's jaw tightened as Sam spoke.
“I'm fine now. Thanks to you.”
Bucky stood abruptly, flimsy chair clattering to the ground. He stomped to the door, slamming it shut as he disappeared into the cool night.
You smiled wide now, showing off your teeth.
“I am doing so much better now, thanks to you guys! I appreciate it so much!”
You clenched your teeth tighter into your smile as you stepped to pick up the fallen chair.
“I'm sorry about the chair!” A breathy laugh, “Goodness, I should have-”
Sam rushed to you, crouching down and placing a gentle hand on yours. You flinched as he helped you pull the chair up.
“Sorry.” He pulled his hand away as he noticed your discomfort. He took a step back and looked at you earnestly.
“Hey, I know what you're doing, and you don't have to do it. Bucky isn't going to hurt anyone, he’s just a little upset. You're safe here I promise.”
You crossed your arms over your torso, tightening your smile to cover your teeth.
“Sam. I know that, thank you.”
He frowned at you, sighing gently.
“You are safe. I promise. You don't have to manage anyone's reactions anymore.”
Your lips faltered for a moment, but you quickly pulled them back into place. You couldn't, however, control the pricking burn that started to form in the back of your throat.
“Especially, now that Bucky knows what's going on. Your super soldier of a neighbor has a crazy sense of duty in him. He's not going to let anything happen to you.”
“I think I need to throw up -”
At least your nausea was finally working on your side for this once. Not much came up as you leaned over the toilet, but it got you out of the room with Sam. He didn't come to get you, and you were able to hide in the bathroom for another hour, before you fell asleep, cheek pressed to the tub.
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Series Warnings: slow-burn, swearing, shouting, slight violence, pregnant reader (with another man's baby), Bucky's trauma, reader has trauma, mentions of verbal & physical abuse (let me know if there's more!)
Summary: Bucky confronts his asshole neighbor, and offers his non-asshole neighbor a helping hand.
Word Count: 1,400
Previous part
You rubbed your eyes harshly into the collar of your shirt, wincing as you tried to get rid of your tears. As they soaked away into your collar, more tears quickly replaced them.
Another knock at the door. You raised your eyebrows worriedly at Garett, asking a silent question - what were you supposed to do? You sighed and began to turn your feet in the direction of the door.
"I'll fuckin' get it" Garett grumbled, shoving you behind him. His body blocked you from view of whoever was at the door. He didn't give a greeting, just gave an expectant grunt.
"Hey neighbor, I don't think we've met! I live next door. I think I'm looking for your wife -" You heard your name. Your bleary eyes turned again to the conversation at the door, but you still couldn't see around Garett, not to mention, your tears made everything so damn blurry anyways. "I found these gloves in the stairwell, I think they might belong to her? I know the weather has been getting cooler, and I'd hate for her to go without them.”
It was barely September.
"Yeah man, I'll get them to her.”
"So, you recognize them? I was hoping maybe she could look at them to confirm they're actually hers? I know a couple women live on the floor.”
If you couldn't tell that Garett was frustrated from the way his back tensed and shifted alone, his gruffening tone would have done the trick.
"I have no clue, look man, now's not really a good time.”
You dared yourself to take a step closer to the conversation at the door.
"Of course, man, I don't want to be a bother at all, I just wanted to make sure she had them. You sure she's not free for a second?”
"No-”
"Yeah, I can take a look at them!" Your voice came out weak, and as a surprise even to yourself. Garett finally turned to you. The look in his eyes sent ice down your spine. You clenched your teeth and gave a tight lipped smile at the now revealed visitor, your sweet neighbor, Bucky. Of course, he lived next door, you almost forgot. You didn't know much about him personally, of course, you knew about him vaguely from the news over the past decade, but you never brought it up with him, or looked too far into anything. He was always kind when you ran into him in the hallway.
You squeezed a place next to Garett in the doorway, choosing to ignore the way his eyes bore into the side of your head. You ignored Bucky's gaze as well. You didn’t want to hear any of the silent messages anyone was trying to send you. Instead, you focused intently on the offering in Bucky's hands.
After a moment, you recognized the gloves, but they didn't belong to you, or any other woman in the complex for that matter. Reflective material lined the wrists of the otherwise black snow gloves - a staple model from the convenience store down the street. You had bought them the previous February, after a couple weeks had passed noticing Bucky shoveling snow around your apartment building without gloves. You also told him to stop by anytime he needed a hot drink. He never did stop by, but every time you saw him in the snow after that, he would send a gloved wave and a smile your way.
"Do you need.... Gloves?" His eyes held an intensity when you finally looked up. You noticed his eyes darting all around, as if scanning for something - your eyes, your face, your body, the room behind you.
Your eyes burned from all the tears you had shed. You tried to force them not to water again.
Your voice barely came out as a whisper, "yes.”
What happened next was a complete blur to you. Bucky's grip on your wrists was careful but firm, as he quickly pulled you out into the hallway, his back shielding you as he swung his fist directly into your Fiance's gut.
Bucky didn't have any furniture in his kitchen or living room. If not for a neatly folded blanket and pillow on the floor, and a birdhouse attached to the outside of a window, you never would have guessed that anyone lived here.
You sat on the hard floor, knees pulled to your chest, the remnants of half-a-roll of toilet paper lay next to you as you blew your nose for what felt like the thousandth time.
It has been nearly an hour since Bucky had nearly left your fiance unrecognizable in the apartment next door, warning him he had until the next day to be moved out of your apartment, and if he ever came near you again, he may not live to regret it.
Your private, helpful, and kind neighbor had beaten up and threatened to kill your fiance. You didn't even know how to begin to wrap your head around anything going on at that point, but underneath all the pain, frustration and confusion, a subtle strength of relief settled in your chest. Next door, you could hear Garett stomping around, probably packing away any traces of his life, as Bucky had told him to.
A deep grumble from your stomach interrupted your quiet sobs.
Bucky held a soft gaze as he raised his eyebrows at you.
“You need food. And somewhere to sleep. Are you ok to move?”
You blinked at him. Your brain still felt so fuzzy, you couldn't really connect the dots on what he was saying.
“I don't really have any food here. Or a bed to offer you. But I know a place we can go, if you're up for it.”
Your stomach growled again. Your head trembled in a subtle nod.
“Do you have a car? I can drive, but I don't want to make you cling onto my bike right now. Or I can call one of those ride app things - Oover? Whatever it's called.”
You wiped your nose against the sleeve of your shirt one last time.
“I left my stuff next door. But I can pay you back for an Uber later?”
Bucky hoisted himself off the ground. Your eyes followed him as he walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from an otherwise bare cupboard, and filled it at the sink. He handed the full glass to you, nodding his head to you to drink it.
“Don't worry about it. I might need you to help place the order though. I'm not very familiar with the apps.”
Bucky let you take his phone, watching curiously over your shoulder as you pressed the desired buttons.
Now you just had to wait a little longer.
You nursed the water as Bucky made some phone calls. When the glass was empty, he silently took it from you, refilling it before encouraging you to keep drinking. You accepted gratefully.
“I think the uber is here. Are you okay to move?”
You nodded, accepting his extended hand. Your head spun as he helped pull you up. Suddenly you felt incredibly nauseous. Great, perfect timing. But you were sure that the fact you were incredibly dehydrated at this point didn't help. You brought one hand to your mouth, the other one grasping at his hand as you started to sway on your feet. His hands quickly moved to hold you more securely at your sides, your free hand moved to grab onto his shoulder for stability as you gagged on nothing.
“Woah, Doll. You alright? I can carry you if you're not able to move right now!”
Oh shit. You tried to push him away, but his hold on you remained secure. You quickly leaned the opposite direction from him, throwing up all the water you had managed down and a couple tablespoons of bile on the floor. At least you hadn’t gotten any on him. Your eyes began to sting in that familiar way again, but you had nothing left to cry.
“Ok.” He whispered, leaning down and picking you up, one arm supporting your legs as the other securely held you to him. “Don't worry, I can clean that up tomorrow.” He assured you as you tried to hide your face from him the best you could, sobbing dryly.
“I think we can agree this place needed a little spicing up anyways.”
A/N - Just like everyone else, I watched Thunderbolts and I'm back on my Marvel loving shit. It's been a few years, but I'm excited to be back in it! I definitely had to take time to revisit all the Bucky content in preparation for this series though! Right now, the series is intended to be timeless, but I personally sorta picture it being before/around FATWS timeframe.
The first part is set in Bucky's POV, but all the rest of the parts will be Reader POV
Series Warnings: slow-burn, swearing, shouting, slight violence, pregnant reader (with another man's baby), Bucky's trauma, reader has trauma, mentions of verbal & physical abuse (let me know if there's more!)
Summary: Bucky has loud neighbors. One day he decides to pay them a visit.
Word Count: 695 (following parts will be longer)
Bucky minded his own business. After everything, he had earned his peace. Or what semblance of peace he could get.
The nightmares hadn't stopped, everyone who may have once loved him was dead. But he had a consistent place to call "home" at night, and he even had a regular visitor at the bird house he had attached to the dining room window. The bird house was a gift from Sam, a man Bucky thought he might consider as a friend, he said to remember him by. Three solid wood walls, the fourth replaced by the window itself, allowed Bucky to see anytime he had a visitor.
Bucky had named his little bird friend "Sam Junior" in his memoriam. When Sam heard, he protested, but he was laughing the whole time he begged Bucky to change it. After a bit of bribery, Sam was able to convince him to just to call the bird SJ, so that no one would know that his entire legacy lay in a cardinal.
The occasional visit from SJ to his window often felt like the best of sense of "home" Bucky had had in a very long time. Unfortunately, SJ didn't stick around for long when the yelling was happening.
Bucky didn't want to get involved in other people's problems. Hadn't his own parents had the occasional fight? Well, when he moved in, maybe it was just occasional, but since then, the fighting became more frequent, and much harder to ignore.
Bucky saw the women who lived next door almost every day. She usually left for work around the time he went on his morning run. They'd often walk down the stairs together, sometimes commenting on the landlord's ridiculous new policies, or making small talk about the weather. Bucky noticed she seemed to always run cold - whether it was raining, snowing, or 90° out, she always wore a sweater. He couldn't help but be impressed by her collection.
When she came home from work, he was often making his own way back from errands or meetings or whatever else he did to occupy his time. They'd walk back up the creaky stairs together and he'd listen as she mentioned the latest gossip from her job or what she planned to make for dinner. Sometimes they ran into each other outside of this predictable routine - maybe he would offer to help carry her groceries - she would always politely decline.
He almost never saw her partner. Bucky heard his loud, usually angry, voice frequently enough, that he knew the man still lived there. The ring on her finger suggested she was at least engaged, if not married, but he wished she would just dump the guy already. He sounded like a bully at best.
But Bucky really was trying to mind his own business, and if it was anyone's place to bring up their concerns, her ex-assassin neighbor certainly wouldn't be at the top of the list. Sometimes after a bad night, he would really consider saying something more forward to her, but the look in her eyes and the sharp corners of her smile warned him not to. So he stuck to talking about the weather.
Bucky could hear the yelling from outside of the building when he got home later one evening. Usually, he would just hear the man shouting at the woman. Occasionally she would let out an exhausted cry of protest, but it normally just sounded like a the typical argument she had likely grown used to losing.
As Bucky climbed the stairs to his floor, a deep feeling settled in him. Something about tonight did not feel normal. Reaching his floor, he paused, clenching the handrail until it started to warp under his grip.
Bucky was used to the man sounding angry. Somehow the word "furious" seemed more fitting now. She usually sounded frustrated. Now, he couldn't help but hear fear.
Bucky took a deep breath, a deep strech in his chest as he tried to steady his exhale. He flexed his fingers as he let go of the handrail. So much for minding his own business.
