Marvel Imagines

But most mornings are significantly less quiet.

You wake to the sound of a mug clinking down him your bedside table, eyes peeling open to see Bucky leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning doll,” he whispers, brushing the hair gently out of your face.

“Morning love,” your words are muffled by sleep and your pillo, stretching you limbs to wake up.

“Breakfast on the table in five baby,” he says, laughing quietly at your reaction to the word breakfast, eyes popping open fully. You grab his hand and kiss it, holding it to your face while he moves his finger to stoke your cheek.

Then the smoke alarm goes off. The alarm blares through the quiet of the Sunday morning. Bucky quickly runs back to the kitchen to stop the burning bacon (it’s like bacon hates him) as you groan and shove your face in the pillow again.

“It’s all good! I got it, fucking bacon,” he calls down the hall to you.

“Can you get the fucking alarm next please!” You call back, grieving your peaceful morning.

The alarm cuts out, and Bucky comes back to the bedroom, hugging you when he sees you standing and saying, “Sorry sweetheart, the fucking ba-”, you cut him off with a kiss, partly because you want to kiss him, but mostly to stop him cursing out the food.

—————

Mornings with Icarus!Bucky can go one of three ways.

The first is the rarest, the ones you hate the most, is when you wake up alone with a note either on his pillow or stuck to your head from where you gravitated to his side of the bed. The note normally reads something like…

“Morning darlin,

Had to run out, something came up. I’m sorry sweetheart, hoping I’m back before you wake up, but if I’m not, know that I will make it up when I do.

Hope you dreamt of me.

-B”

—

The second is more typical, he wakes you with a kiss, whispering sweet things in your ear.

“What do you want to eat, I’ll get someone to bring it up for us.” He says, sitting up and grabbing his phone to put in the order.

“Pancakes,” you whisper, turning over and leaning into his side, pressing your face against his hip, arm resting over his legs.

“Okay love I’ll get you your pancakes,” he chuckles, his hand resting on the middle of your back. He checks his phone, sends a few texts and emails, and makes a call which you don’t pay attention to, the heat of his body lulling you back to sleep.

He wakes you by waving a piece of pancake under your nose and laughs as you try to bite it out of his hand.

—

The third tend to be the most common but as this is supposed to be SFW but see this for how the third type typically goes.

—

“No, and we are gonna keep it that way you hear me, don’t drag that kind girl into this cruel world.” Curtis states, stepping forward as if to cut Billy off from responding.

Shit, I can’t let you look down and see me waving a gun in your friends faces.

“She doesn’t need to know. She’s not made for this world, not like us. So how about you put the gun away before she starts looking out that window.” Frank says, eyes flicking to your window to make sure you’re not witnessing this tense conversation.

Bucky slowly lowers the gun into his pocket, but keeps his hand tight on the weapon, just as a precaution.

Please be true, to whatever bastard higher power up there, please be true.

“Not like us?” Bucky says, parroting the other man’s words, “in what world are we the same?”

“Well I mean you and Curtis probably share the most similar physicality,” Billy states, chuckling a little at his own joke.

Bucky’s eyes flit to the quiet man on the left, recalling his earlier thoughts.

“What Bill means to say is that I know what’s it’s like to loose a limb in combat-”

“I didn’t loose my arm in combat.” His voice was deep and unwavering, even while the horrid memories came to the front of his mind, “you have no idea what I went through.”

“We know some. Rumors fly in the military.” Franks states, “we were all Marines together, and after Curtis lost his leg, I became a Navy Seal and Bill here became a Scout Sniper for the Marine Corps Reconnaissance. We’ve had our fair share of being screwed over by those in authority.”

“Am I supposed to give a shit? All that crap is behind me, what I care about is my business now, the same business that you three have been fucking up for the past week. So what the fuck do you want and what the fuck does Y/n have to do with it?” Bucky growls out, his patience slipping.

“We mean no harm, not to you, and especially not to Y/n-”

“I’m supposed to believe that, you used her to get to me right? If you cared about her you wouldn’t have done that-” Bucky begins before he gets cut off.

“Don’t you dare say that we don’t care about her!” Billy almost shouts stepping forward before stopping when Bucky brings the gun out of his pocket and lets it rest by his side.

“Y/n is one of the few things in this world we care about, she’s family okay, and we would never hurt her-” Curtis says

“Really, then how would you say she’s gonna feel if I go back to her apartment and tell her all about this, huh?” Bucky calls back

“You’re not gonna do that though, are ya? Because you know if you did, it’d break her heart, and you don’t wanna do that do ya Buck? Not when ya like her so much?” The words come from Billy, the annoying grin back in his face.

“What make you think I care that much?” Bucky says, even though his thoughts state the opposite.

I do. I do care.

“If you didn’t you would have shot us already.” Frank responds with a very valid point.

That makes Bucky clench his jaw and tense his gun wielding hand.

“All we want is a business meeting okay, talk about a potential partnership.” Frank stars crossing his arms, staring unklinking at Bucky.

“A partnership? It’s gonna take more than you fucking up a few things for me to even think about considering that. And what the hell would I get out of a partnership with you three?” Brucky responds, seriously considering just shooting the three men dead on the street.

“Well that’s something we can talk about later, but just so you know we have our hands in some business ourselves and more than enough bodies to keep our shit going, but we’d all be a hell of a lot richer if we worked together” Curtis states, shifting his weight onto his good leg.

“Plus just think about how happy our girl will be if we all got on.” Billy chimes in with a quick wink.

Our girl. OUR girl? God I wanna shoot these assholes.

Bucky keeps his calm facade up, unwilling to show the man that his words affected him.

“Fine. Be at the Comandos bar at 8 pm tomorrow, just you three, no weapons.” Bucky responds, wanting this conversation to be over.

The three men share quick look’s between themselves, and then Frank steps forward with his hand out towards Bucky and says “We’ll be there.”

Bucky doesn’t even look at them before turning quickly and walking back into the building, pulling out his phone to call Steve.

Frank chuckles, puts his hand down and turns to get in the car.

“Think he’ll tell her?” Curtis asks.

“Nah. He likes her too much.” Billy replies, while opening the door and getting in.

—————

What the hell is taking him so long? God I hope the boys didn’t catch him and give the whole ‘if you hurt her we’ll kill you’ talk. The boys are scary but Bucky’s a damn mobster.

The heavy knock on the door stops your pacing, and cause you to run to the door and pull it open to see the aforementioned mobster.

He doesn’t even say anything before barging in, kicking the door closed behind him while his hands go straight to the sides of your face, pulling your lips to his. His grip is gentle, but his mouth is bruising, his teeth nipping your bottom lip.

You pull back to catch your breath, leaning your forehead on his and catching your breath.

“Not even a hello? You missed me that much?” You flirt quietly, whispering into his mouth, hand clutching his waist through his coat.

“More than you know darlin’ I needed to see you…and touch you,” Bucky responds, silently thinking I needed to make sure you were okay.

Oh please do.

“All I’m hearing is the big bad mobster saying he needs me” you tease, praying he didn’t take offence, yeah he’s sweet and lovely but I’ve only gotten a tiny glimpse at the other side of him.

“Is that how you see me?” He leans back to his full height, staring down into your eyes, dropping his hands to his sides.

Shit.

Bucky grips your wrists and takes your hands off his body, moving them into his metal hand, the surface cold on your skin. You scramble to respond, wanting to tell him you thought the opposite, but his flesh hand moves to his pocket before you can talk.

“Big bad mobster huh? Oh doll you have no idea,” he says with an indiscernible look on his face, pulling out his glock.

Oh fuck, I was only teasing.

“Wait Buck-“ you start before he cuts you off.

“Y/n…Are you scared of me?” He asks, his grip on your wrists loose enough that you could get out of his grip if you wanted to.

You didn’t move. Looking into his eyes, an overwhelming feeling of calm takes over, the blue of his eyes the same as the sky after a storm.

“…no. I’m not.” I probably should be but apparently I’m crazy.

“Do you think I’m bad?” He asks.

All the stories, all the rumours, the memory of your first meeting, and the call he took in the shop come flooding to the forefront of your mind. That he’s a man with no mercy, cares for nothing and no one - except money, sex, and violence.

“…not to me.” You answer.

He pulls his arm up, holding the glock in between your faces, showing it to you. The bottom of his tattoo- your tattoo- sticks out from under his sleeve.

A normal person without a broken brain would take this as a threat. Why am I attracted to this?

He makes eye contact with you over the barrel, turning his hand and resting the muzzle on your cheek, but there is no fear in you, you can see his trigger finger resting on the side of the barrel.

“Do you trust me Y/N?” Bucky asks, his eyes not moving from yours.

You take a second to think about it.

The man is a fucking mobster for Christs’ sake. He’s a criminal, a gun runner, a drug trafficker, and not to mention a killer. His kills have hit the news before, no evidence proving it was his organisation, but everyone knows. It doesn’t matter if it was Bucky that pulled the trigger, held the knife, planted the bomb, nothing happened that wasn’t on his order. Can I really trust a man like that?

Your hesitation to answer has an effect on Bucky. He moves the gun, dragging it down your neck and resting the muzzle in the dip of your collar bone. You look down at his hand, finger still nowhere near he trigger.

“Y/n.” He calls quietly. Your eyes jump back to his and he speaks again, “do you think I would ever hurt you?”

That question has an answer you don’t have to think about.

“Not unless I did something to deserve it.” Your attempt at humour was immediately seen to be the wrong answer.

He sticks the gun back in your face, muzzle pushing between you lips, scratching your teeth. The movement causes your eyes to go wide, fear slipping onto your face.

“Did you do something to deserve it? Have you fucked me over Y/n?” His voice is tense, deadly serious, an unstable look in his eyes, his metal hand tightening on your wrists.

You lean back a little to answer, “…no, no of course not Buck. What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

He stares at you for what feels like hours, his face perfectly still, not giving anything away.

She doesn’t know. She truly has no idea. Thank fuck.

He drops the gun and lets go of your wrists, taking a few steps back, giving you space.

“I’m sorry doll, I’ve just had very hard day, some new information was given to me and it’s fucked me up a bit. I’m sorry Y/n, truly I am, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” His hands run through his hair, pulling at it harshly. “Shit darlin’, what the hell was I doing?” He mumbles the last bit to himself.

“Buck..Bucky, hey calm down, it’s okay-” you start before he talks again.

“It’s not okay! I just put a fucking gun in your face.” He keeps rambling, seeming like a whole other person than he was a minute ago.

“Buck! Stop, stop jabbering,” you grab his wrists, taking his hands from his hair and pulling him towards you.

He stops talking, and stares at your hands in his, the metal of his prosthetic shining a stark contrast against your skin.

You take a second to look at him, eyes studying his face. He looks worried, and a little scared.

Huh, didn’t know a mobster could get scared. Is he’s scared of me and what I’m gonna say… or is he scared of himself?

“You don’t scare me Buck…you probably should, but you don’t. ‘Cos you’ve been nothing but good to me, even a minute ago when you were acting weird, I knew you weren’t gonna do anything-”

“How? How did you trust me to not hurt you, when I was waving my glock in your face?”

“You had your finger on the barrel”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking over what you said. He takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky responds.

“Then don’t say anything.” You say, the imagine of him with a gun in his hand fresh in your mind.

That whole episode should not have been as hot as it was. Shit I’m fucked up.

Bucky stares at you (he does that a-lot), unsure of his next move.

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He moves before you can blink, his hands gently grabbing your face and pulling you to him. His kiss takes your breath away, gentle but firm. Your hands grip his elbows, encouraging him to keep going.

He takes the hint (thank fuck) and splits your lips with his tongue, his nose pressed hard against your cheek. He moves his hands down to your hips, gripping hard. Your hands grip the back of his head, fingers playing with his hair, tugging at it slightly when he completely deepens the kiss, your tongues tangling together. He lets out a quiet groan at the feeling, taking his left hand off your hip and tensing it by his side. You break the kiss when you feel the loss of his touch.

You take a second to catch your breath, Bucky leaning his head against yours.

“Why did you take your hand off me?” You ask.

“What?” He responds, the small dazed look on his face making you chuckle a little.

“Your hand, I liked it where it was.”

“Oh..that. It’s uh..it’s pretty strong, I can’t tell how hard I’m holding something, I can’t feel it so I tend to hold things a bit too hard… I broke like 5 cups in the past week-” he answers, stuttering his way through the sentence.

“Stop talking Buck, and you say I ramble,” You say, putting your finger to his lips. He stops talking, and you continue, “I trust you Buck, I’ll tell you if you’re holding me too hard. Plus I like it a little rough.” You finish with a wink at him, pulling his hand back to your waist.

He drops his head back, eyes closed and takes a deep breath in. He mumbles under his breath something that sounds like ‘god you’re perfect’, then he crashes his lips back into yours, both hands tightening on your hips.

He moves faster now, more intense with his kiss, his teeth scraping yours slightly and he presses you backwards, walking with you until you bump into the wall, his flesh hand stopping your head from hitting it.

Aww how sweet. The thought is thrown from your head when Bucky drops his head and presses kisses to your jaw, his hand curling in your hair to pull your head back, exposing your neck to him.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, as he licks a long stripe up your neck, nipping at the pulse points he finds. Your hands drop to his hips and pull him flush to you, groaning when you feel how much you’ve affected him. He kisses his way back to your lips, his metal hand moving to rest on the side of your neck, thumb resting in the front of your neck. Bucky gives you a long hard kiss then pulls back breathing hard.

“God girl, you are gonna be the death of me,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks.

“Fuck I hope not,” you respond, pulling his hips tighter against yours making him choke back a groan at the feeling.

His phone starts to ring.

Fuck off.

You pull him to you again, lips trailing across his jaw.

“Shit doll, wait a second baby-” he starts before you cut him off.

“Wait? Wait for what Buck, you don’t want me?” You tease, brushing your nose along his.

He crashes his lips against yours, his ringtone fading as his kiss overtakes your mind. Bucky pulls back after a few seconds, growling softly before stepping back to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Are you seriously gonna answer that?” You ask, incredulous to his action.

“I have to darlin, could be an emergency,” he answers, taping the screen to answer. He puts the phone to his ear and says, “talk to me.”

You ignore his conversation, grabbing his metal hand to inspect it. The plates shift as you turn it over to look at the palm.

What an incredible feat of engineering, I wonder how it works. And how it feels-

Your dirty thoughts are cut short as he pulls his hand out of your grip, turning and taking a few steps away from you. His voice is quiet, probably to keep you from hearing whatever illegal shit they were discussing.

You jump when he shouts.

“THE FUCK? Rogers you get them to find more information on those shitheads, or I swear to fuck I will rip their fucking hearts out. I don’t care anymore, this shit needs to stop right the fuck now!” He stops his tirade and listens to ‘Rogers’ on the other side for a few second before he starts up again, “I know that asshole…one of the fuckers is married, find the wife… I have no idea if she’s involved man, I doubt it but she’d be good leverage… and get me some more information on their business so I’m not going into this shit show unprepared.”

That gets your full attention. Find the wife? Leverage? And do what? Threaten her? Hurt her? …kill her?

A shiver rips its way down your spine at that thought.

Would he do that? If she’s not a part of the issue, would he still hurt her? He already proved he’d hurt anyone that fucked him over, proved that when he stuck his gun in my mouth.

“Yeah…I know, get Stark on it, send Talia and Barton out too, see if they can get any news on the street… tell Barton to keep his cool, I don’t need anymore shit right now” Bucky says, switching the phone to his metal hand, using his flesh one to pull at his hair again.

His back is still turned to you, his coat stretches over his shoulder, the back rising with his hand in his hair.

He has a gun in his waistband.

Your eyes flit to the glock he drop on the floor earlier, and back to the one tucked in his waistband.

Is two guns really necessary?

Your answer comes with his next sentence.

“Fuck Steve I know that…you think I got this far without any personal protection? I’m good if anything happens man but I don’t think it will, they seemed pretty insistent on the fact they meant no harm..”

He continues to talk for a minute until he ends the call with a quick “get it done Steve, or we’re all fucked.” He places the phone back in his pocket, takes a few deep breaths and turns back to you with a tense look on his face. He takes another deep breath and steps towards you. Without meaning to you take a step back, hitting the wall behind you. Bucky stops as soon as he sees your movement.

“Sorry about that sweetheart, didn’t mean to upset ya.” He says, his voice quiet and calm, as if he was talking to a injured dog.

You let the silence linger for a second, deciding whether or not to ask the question that was begging to be said.

Fuck it.

“What are you going to do to her?”

He tilts his head at the question, unsure of what you’re talking about.

You take pity on his confusion.

“The wife? What are you going to do when you find her?”

Something settles in his eyes, his mouth twisting into a grim line.

“Nothing…unless I have to.” Bucky responds.

His answer does nothing to calm your pounding heart.

“You mean you won’t do anything unless you find out she’s involved?”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t do anything if she’s not a part of …whatever it is?” You ask.

“That’s right.” He nods with his answer.

“Except use her as leverage?”

He’s silent for a moment, and sighs as he rolls his left shoulder. He doesn’t break eye contact, and he’s completely resigned to whatever his answer is about to be.

“If I have to.” There is no lie in his voice, no guilt or remorse in his eyes.

Holy fuck. There’s the soldier again, the man with no mercy, does whatever he needs to come out on top.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

He wouldn’t hurt me. Would he?

He answers like he heard your thought.

“It’s business doll, we do what we have to do. Sometimes it’s rough and bad and awful and yes, people get hurt. Sometimes even innocent people get hurt. But I will never apologise for being the one that does the hurting, me and mine have had our fair share of getting hurt, and I’d rather hurt and use some people I don’t care about, than watch my people, my family, get hurt. I will not allow that to happen, not when I can to something about it.” He stands straight, like a soldier. The conviction in his voice actually makes you feel calmer.

Assuming I’m someone he cares about, I should be fine, right?

It slips off your tongue before you can catch it.

“Do you care about me?” You shift your weight as you talk, unsure if you actually want to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He states, his tone steady.

“Say it properly,” you demand, crossing your arms over your chest, a subconscious way of protecting yourself, “I need you to say it properly Bucky.”

He shifts his weight now, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Yes… I do care about you,” he answers, clearing his throat in the middle of his statement, “do you care about me?”

You were unprepared for him to flip it back on you.

“I need you to answer truthfully Y/n. Do you care about me, as I am? The ‘big bad mobster’” he says, taking a step closer to you, and taking another when you don’t move away from him.

“The man who broke into your flat to threaten your roommate who owes me? The one who was going to shoot your friends dead on the street? The one who stuck a gun in your face? I’m a killer Y/n, a fucking mobster, and I’m not changing any time soon. Do you care about me as I am?” He asks, reminding you of the shit he’s done since you met him, not even counting the things you haven’t heard about.

You take a second to consider his questions.

I think I do, how fucked am I that I do?

You finally clock what he said.

“You were going to shoot who dead on the street?!”

————

hehehehe I feel like an evil mastermind.

If you are not tagged here- I either will tag you in a separate post- or I cannot tag you for some reason.

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