#natasharomanoff

-=- First time

It started innocently enough. We'd just come back from a short mission, adrenaline still buzzing. I pulled her into our room, hands already sliding under her shirt, fingers tracing the toned lines of her abs. "Missed you out there, Romanoff," I murmured, voice low and teasing, pressing her back against the wall. She growled softly, that sound that always went straight between my legs, and flipped us so I was the one pinned. Her mouth crashed into mine, hungry, demanding. We shed clothes fast, my tank top hitting the floor, her sports bra following. I wrapped my legs around her waist as she carried me to the bed, her cock already hard and pressing against me through her pants.

She freed herself, thick and throbbing, and pushed into me in one smooth thrust. I gasped, nails digging into her shoulders. God, she felt perfect, stretching me just right, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. We moved together, her hips snapping forward, my body arching to meet every thrust, sweat slicked our skin. Her breath came in hot pants against my neck as she murmured praises in Russian. I was close already, but I wanted her closer.

Right as she started to lose rhythm, her cock swelling inside me, I gripped her arms "Stop."

She froze instantly, buried deep, muscles trembling with the effort. Those green eyes snapped to mine, confused but instantly concerned "YN? What’s wrong, detka?" Her voice was rough, strained, but she pulled out carefully, rolling off me even though I could see the frustration flickering across her face. She checked me over, hands gentle on my cheeks. "Talk to me. Did I hurt you?"

I faked a yawn, "Just... tired. Long day. Sorry, Nat." The lie tasted sweet. She nodded, kissing my forehead softly, even though her cock was still rock-hard and leaking against her thigh. She pulled me into her arms instead, holding me close. "It's okay. Get some rest." I snuggled against her chest, hiding my smirk.

-=- Second time

The next day I teased her on purpose. During training, I "accidentally" brushed against her while sparring, whispering how much I wanted her inside me later. In the common area, I sat on her lap during a team meeting, shifting just enough to feel her harden beneath me. By evening, she was pent up, eyes dark with need every time she looked at me.

 Perfect.

We barely made it to the bedroom. I dropped to my knees the second the door closed, yanking her pants down. Her cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, veins standing out. "Fuck, Yn," she groaned as I took her into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head, sucking hard. I worked her with my hand and lips, hollowing my cheeks, taking her deeper until she hit the back of my throat. Her fingers tangled in my hair. Her hips bucked, breath ragged. She was close, so close, thighs tensing.

I pulled off with a wet pop, wiping my mouth. "Actually... I don't feel like it anymore." I stood up, shrugging casually, even as my own arousal throbbed.

Natasha stared at me, chest heaving, cock twitching in the air, denied right at the edge. Frustration burned in her eyes, jaw tight. "Yn. What the hell?" But she didn't push, she never did, she respected me too much. She just exhaled sharply, ran a hand through her hair, and muttered something about a cold shower. I felt a twinge of guilt, but the power rush was addictive.

-=- Third time

She tried again two nights later, thinking maybe I'd gotten over whatever mood I was in. We were in the shower, water cascading over us. Her hands roamed my body, soapy and insistent. She lifted me against the tiles, strong arms holding me up as she slid into me again, deep and relentless. The angle was insane, every thrust ground against my clit, her cock filling me completely. I moaned loudly, biting her shoulder. She was pounding into me, grunting with effort, so close to losing it.

Halfway through I gasped, realising I nearly forgot; Right as her pace turned desperate "Stop, Nat."

She slammed her hand against the tile beside my head, breathing hard, but she stopped, pulled out, set me down gently even though her whole body shook with restrained need. Anger flashed in her eyes now,real anger. "This again? Yn, what game are you playing?" Her voice was low, dangerous. But she still wrapped a towel around me first, then herself, before storming out to the bathroom. 

-=- Fourth time

By now she knew. She watched me warily the next evening when I initiated, but desire won out. We didn't even make it past foreplay properly before I had her on her back, stroking her cock slowly, teasing the head with my thumb while kissing her neck. She was leaking, hips jerking up into my hand. When I straddled her and sank down, taking every inch, she groaned my name like a prayer.

I did it again. "Stop."

This time she was properly pissed. She pulled out immediately, sitting up and glaring. "Damn it, Stark. If you don't want this, stop starting it." She got up, pacing the room naked, tension radiating off her. But she respected the word, I almost felt bad, almost.

-=- The fifth time

A few nights after that, I could tell she was done with my shit. I tried to make up for it, crawling into bed in nothing but one of her old shirts, pressing against her back, hand sliding down her stomach towards her cock. "C'mon, Nat. I've been an ass. Let me fix it."

She caught my wrist, firm but not painful. "No. I'm sick of your jokes, Yn. Not tonight." Her voice was flat. She turned away, facing the wall. I felt a pang of real regret then. My own damn fault. I curled up on my side, back facing her, pretending to fall asleep even though my mind raced. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside.

Hours passed. The clock on the nightstand glowed 3:17 AM when I felt the bed shift. Warm breath brushed my neck.

Natasha pressed in close behind me, her body radiating heat. She stayed there for a long moment, breathing ragged, her thick cock hard and throbbing insistently against my ass. Her hand rested on my hip, fingers flexing with clear frustration, but she held back.

“Yn…” Her voice was low and strained. “You awake?” I hummed, looking at her and smiled at her state. “If you’re going to say stop again, tell me now. Please.” She said desperate.

I reached back, guiding her hand between my thighs so she could feel how soaked I was. “Don’t stop tonight,”

The second the words left my mouth, Natasha flipped me onto my back with a growl. She shoved the shirt up roughly, spread my legs wide, and thrust into me in one hard stroke, burying herself deep. I gasped at the sudden stretch as she started fucking me immediately, fast and relentless and going all the way in.

“Fuck… finally,” she panted against my neck, hips snapping “Let me finish inside you.”

She drove into me harder, desperate and messy, days of holding back, her cock throbbing with every thrust. Broken “please”’s spilled from her lips between moans as she chased her release, trembling with need. It didn’t take long before her rhythm faltered. She slammed in deep one last time and came hard, pulsing hot inside me with a wrecked groan, her whole body shaking.

When she finally collapsed on top of me, sweaty and tired, she pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder.

“Never again,” she murmured, voice hoarse. “Or I won’t be this nice next time.”

You were sitting on the balcony of the quiet Avengers compound, knees pulled against your chest. It was the middle of the night. The smoke from your cigarette filled your lungs, trying to soothe the lingering weight of the nightmare still stuck in your chest.

You were still a new Avenger—barely a year in—but it didn’t feel like enough time to handle the pressure that came with the job. The nightmares weren’t always the same. Sometimes they were flashbacks from failed missions. Other times, they reflected your worst fears. They changed shape, but the feeling they left behind never did. That emptiness always stayed. And every time it happened, you found yourself here.

You were caught in a spiral of racing thoughts, fidgeting with your favorite knife, when you heard the balcony door creak open. You turned your head and saw her.

Natasha.

She stepped outside slowly, like she already knew you’d be here. She looked like she hadn’t slept either. Her green eyes were sharp, awake, and fixed on you. It didn’t surprise you. Since you joined the Avengers, the two of you had shared a lot of sleepless nights. Sometimes on the rooftop, other times curled up in the living room in comfortable silence.

Natasha was the one you trusted the most. There was something between you two—something neither of you talked about. A quiet understanding that lingered beneath the teasing, the sarcasm, the shared looks that lasted a little too long. God, the looks. The ones that made your chest tighten and your breath catch before either of you looked away like nothing had happened. Whatever it was, it had always been there. You’d never said it out loud. Never dared to name the feeling. But it was always there.

“Well,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “looks like I’m not the only one losing a fight with insomnia tonight.”

You gave her a tired smile. “Didn’t expect company.”

“I could say the same,” she replied, walking over and settling beside you on the couch. “This spot’s supposed to be mine, you know.”

“Oh, sorry,” you said, flicking ash from your cigarette. “Didn’t see your name engraved on it.”

She let out a quiet laugh. “I’m slipping. Normally I’m more territorial.”

You nudged her gently with your shoulder. “We can share. I promise not to take up the whole brooding corner.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a small smirk. You felt her gaze on you while you stared up into the night sky. “Rough night?” she asked, a slight hint of concern in her voice.

You shrugged. “Nightmares. Thought the balcony might help.”

Natasha didn’t say anything right away. She just nodded, like she understood what that meant.

“They’re not just nightmares,” you murmured. “It’s everything. The pressure. The expectations. Feeling like if I mess up once, someone could die.”

Natasha leaned beside you, silent.

“Some nights, it’s flashbacks. Others, it’s just… voices in my head. Doubts. Fear. Like I’m waiting for someone to figure out I don’t belong here. I keep wondering if it ever stops.”

Natasha’s voice was quiet, almost lost in the breeze.

“I’ve been doing this a long time, and I still have those nights. But you learn to keep moving. And you learn who you can lean on when it’s too much.”

You looked over at her, the corner of your mouth twitching in a faint, almost-sad smile. “I’m not good at leaning on people.”

“I know,” Natasha said simply, like it wasn’t a judgment—just a fact. “Neither am I.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment. It wasn’t heavy. Just honest.

“But I’m trying,” you said softly.

Her eyes met yours. “And that’s enough.”

You felt her hand reach out to rest on your shoulder. Silent reassurance. Natasha was never good at doing that, but she was trying. You were more important to her than she would ever admit. You glanced at her, your expression softening.

A moment of silence passed.

“Come on.” She stood up. “Let’s go.”

You blinked, confused. “Going where?”

Natasha smirked a bit. “Clearing our minds. You ever sat on a motorcycle?”

“Uhh… no, never.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“What can I say? I had un-cool teenage years.”

Natasha let out a quiet laugh. “Well, lucky for you, you’re hanging out with a professional bad influence.”

————————————————————————

You followed her through the quiet compound, the only sounds your footsteps echoing softly in the halls. Everything felt still—like the whole world had gone to sleep, except for the two of you.

When you reached the garage, the lights flickered on automatically. Rows of sleek vehicles sat in perfect formation, but your eyes were drawn straight to the black motorcycle parked near the far wall—a sleek, black Harley-Davidson LiveWire.

Natasha walked over to it, grabbed a second helmet hanging from a hook, and turned to you, holding it out.

You hesitated for just a second before taking it. “You sure about this?”

She smiled teasingly, raising an eyebrow. “You fight Hydra agents and fly Quinjets, but you’re scared of a bike?”

You took the helmet from her with a mock glare.

“I like my adrenaline rushes with a seatbelt, thanks.”

Natasha chuckled, clearly enjoying this.

“Relax. I don’t go that fast with passengers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh good. So just mildly reckless.”

She smiled as she slung a leg over the bike. “You’ll be fine.”

You both pulled on your helmets—your hands slightly shaky—and climbed on behind her. You weren’t entirely sure where to put your hands.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder. “I’d suggest arms around me, unless you want to fall off.”

You gave a nervous laugh and wrapped your arms around her waist, more hesitant than you wanted to admit.

The engine rumbled to life beneath you, loud in the quiet of the garage. You felt the vibration in your chest—a strange mix of nerves and something… freeing.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Not even a little.”

Natasha grinned. “Good. That’s the fun part.”

And with that, she rolled out of the garage into the night. She took a sharp turn into the busy streets of NYC and you held even tighter onto her waist. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and it wasn’t only because of the adrenaline.

“You good over there?” Natasha called out in a teasing voice, well aware of the physical closeness. “You’re holding on like I’m about to launch us off a cliff.”

“Can you blame me? I’ve seen how you drive…”

Natasha let out a low chuckle in response.

The engine roared beneath you as Natasha took the next turn. You held on tight at first, shoulders tense. The speed, the wind, the unfamiliar weight of the helmet—it all felt just a little out of control.

But Natasha didn’t rush. She rode steady, her movements almost calming. She stopped at a red traffic light and took a brief glance behind her.

“You’re quieter than I thought you’d be.”

You answered half-joking, half-serious:

“Trying not to scream.”

“What a shame. You’ve got a nice voice.”

The unexpected comment made the tension crackle, and you chuckled, shaking your head slightly.

“Oh, shush.”

Natasha joined your laughter and placed one hand briefly on top of yours—a silent gesture of comfort. You were glad the helmet was covering the blush on your face. The traffic light turned green, and her hand left yours as she kept driving. Little by little, your body relaxed. You let your cheek rest against her back, the warmth of her steady and real beneath your hands. The noise in your head dulled. No fear. No pressure. Just the road and the fresh air. Just her.

The road curved gently upward as Natasha guided the bike up the hillside. The city lights behind you faded into soft glows, replaced by trees and open sky. You held on tight, but this time it wasn’t from nerves—it was just part of the ride now.

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me, aren’t you?” you called over the wind, half-laughing against her shoulder.

Natasha laughed back, her voice sharp with amusement. “No promises. Depends how annoying you get.”

“Oh wow. That’s comforting.”

“Hey,” she called, leaning slightly into the next curve, “I could’ve ditched you back at that red light. You should feel flattered.”

“Oh, I do. Nothing says trust like handing my life over to someone with a known history of morally questionable decisions.”

She barked out a laugh, louder this time. “Keep talking like that and I’ll hit the gas.”

“You would,” you shouted, laughing—the wind catching your voice.

The last few minutes of the drive were filled with laughter, and it warmed something in your chest you didn’t want to name.

The road straightened out and the city came back into view—tiny and far below. The motorcycle rolled to a stop at the top of the hill. Natasha cut the engine and removed her helmet with ease, shaking out her hair as she exhaled.

You followed suit, your heart still racing—not from fear anymore, but from something warmer. Lighter.

“That was…” you started, “both terrifying and amazing.”

Natasha smirked. “You didn’t scream once. I’m proud.” She held her hand out for you, helping you hop off the bike.

“Only because I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.” You smiled smugly, holding her hand a bit longer than necessary.

She chuckled and set her helmet on the seat. “Please. You were clinging to me like I was about to drive us off a cliff.”

“Hey, I was just saving my life. You took very… sharp curves.”

Natasha laughed softly—a sound you didn’t hear often. But it was real. She stepped forward to stand beside you, gazing out at the view. Her shoulder brushed yours, and neither of you moved away from the contact.

“Seriously though,” you said more quietly, “thank you. I needed… this.”

She looked over at you, her smile softened. “You don’t have to crash alone when things get heavy. I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a pause. Not an awkward one—just thick with something unspoken.

Natasha’s voice dropped a little. “You’re different when you laugh. Lighter.”

You tilted your head toward her, eyes meeting. “So are you.”

Another pause.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe both of you did, just a breath apart. But suddenly she was closer, her hand ghosting along your jaw, and her eyes searched yours—checking, waiting.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t urgent or dramatic. It was soft. Careful. Like a question. Like something that had been waiting for the right moment to exist.

You kissed her back.

When you finally pulled away, you both lingered close, her forehead brushing against yours, your breaths still caught between you.

“Well,” you whispered, heart pounding, “that was… unexpected.”

Natasha smiled, just a little. “Not really.”

———————————————————————

Time slipped by after the kiss, but neither of you seemed to be in a rush. You and Natasha sat on an old bench near the edge of the hill. You spent every minute talking and enjoying each other’s presence—so far away from everything—that you didn’t even notice the sun starting to rise. Your head rested on her lap, your gaze fixed on her: the strong line of her jaw, the way her lips curled slightly like she was still thinking about the kiss too.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, not looking away from the skyline.

You smirked. “Glad you’re noticing it now—after one year of me constantly staring,” you teased.

“You did? God… how did I miss that?” she asked, amused, realizing what had been right in front of her the whole time. “But I was just as hopeless.”

“Guess we’re both idiots, huh?”

She let out a low huff of laughter, moving her hand to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. A thought crossed Natasha’s mind—one she wasn’t sure she should say out loud. Her voice was quieter now, a little vulnerable.

“I think I was too scared to admit how much I like you. I—” Her voice faltered for a moment. “I’m not good at this. Feelings and stuff.”

You looked at her with softened eyes, full of understanding. “I know. Me neither.” You took her hand in yours, fingers intertwining naturally.

“Are you still scared?”

She shook her head, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Terrified. But it turns out, I like terrified—with you.”

You laughed softly. “One terrifying step at a time,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss her again.

"What do you want me to say?!" Bucky shouted, making you comb your fingers through your hair in frustration.

"I don't know, okay?" You let out a breath, "I just..I just can't keep doing this."

Bucky scoffed, "Doing what?!" Your eyes widened in shock at his tone. "What more do you want from me?"

Scoffing, you fell down onto the couch, defeated. "You don't show me you want me in your life, Bucky."

"I love you, isn't that enough?!" He shouted once more, making you close your eyes as tears seeped down, soaking your lashes.

"You treat me like I'm a thought in the back of your mind James!" Silence filled the apartment as you both stared at each other in hurt. Bucky's chest heaved up and down in anger as you felt the sobs crawling up your throat.

"What am I supposed to say?" Bucky spoke finally, his tone softer than before. "I don't know how else to prove to you that I love you, y/n."

You brought your hands to your eyes, rubbing away the exhaustion and the still falling tears. "I can't keep doing this, Buck. I'm so tired."

Bucky let out a sob, "You deserve better than me, doll." "Don't talk like that, James."

He shook his head, "I'm gonna stay at Sam's for a while. Maybe we just..." "Maybe we just what?" Your eyes snapped up to his pained ones.

Bucky took a deep breath, "Maybe we need to be apart for a bit."

You felt your heart break in half. You broke down, falling to your knees, back leaned up against the couch as you cried.

Bucky wanted to console you, he wanted to hold you as you heaved and tried to get the oxygen supply back into your lungs. But he knew everything had changed. There was no going back, not anymore.

His own tears fell as he stumbled back into the bedroom, grabbing a SHIELD duffle bag. He slammed open his dresser drawers, finding a couple shirts and some pants and stuffing them into the bag.

Tears continued to fall as he packed, turning to the nightstand to get his phone charger. When he went to unplug it, he saw the framed photo sitting on the top. A picture of you and Bucky on your fourth date.

You were wrapped up in his arms as he danced with you. Both of you smiling at the camera. Natasha was the one who had taken the photo. He hastily grabbed the photo, putting it in the bag with his charger and walking out of your shared bedroom.

You were propped up against the couch, your head laying on the cushion as you stared into space.

Bucky watched as tears still silently fell down your cheeks, opting to not say anything. He again, knew it wouldn't change anything.

Slipping his feet into his combat boots, he left, slamming the door behind him.

THE NEXT MORNING

Natasha walked up the hall to your apartment, raising a hand to knock on your door. She had heard from Sam that Bucky was staying with him for the time being. Having texted and called you for multiple hours with no response, she decided to head over and check on you in person.

"Y/n?" She knocked again, making the neighbor peek her head out into the hall. However, seeing the Black Widow, she stuck her head right back in.

"Fuck this," Natasha pulled a bobby pin from her braid, sticking the end of it into the lock. Finally getting the lock picked, she opened the door, making her way into the apartment.

The room was completely dark, the curtains having been pulled shut. Moving over to the living room, through the kitchen she noticed your frame, still leaning on the couch while sitting on the floor. "Y/n?"

You made no sound, staring into space like you had been for the past fifteen hours, not even blinking. Natasha kneeled down in front of you, placing a hand on your neck in instinct. She let out a breath, feeling your pulse.

"Sweetheart," Natasha moved her hand to your face, pulling your eyes to look at hers.

"Nat?" Your voice cracked, your throat feeling like sandpaper had been shoved down it.

"Yeah, it's Nat, honey. How long have you been sitting here?" You finally blinked, crusted tears making it hurt to close your eyes. "Since, uh, Since Buck left last night." Natasha nodded, her heart heavy with worry. "Come on, let's get you on the couch." You let her help lift you up onto the couch to lay properly as she slipped a pillow under your head and pulled the thick white blanket onto your frame. She tucked your feet in, looking around for a moment.

"When was the last time you ate?" You just shrugged, tears once again starting to fall as you hiccuped. Natasha sat on the floor beside you, quietly shushing you to sleep. Exhaustion took over your body as Natasha vowed to kill Barnes for whatever had caused this.

She kissed your head, "I'll be back soon." Going over to the fridge, she pulled out a bottle of water, placing it on the coffee table with a bottle of tylenol for when you woke up. She knew the headache after waking up would be back. She just hoped you'd still be asleep by the time she made her way back from Sam's.

"Barnes!!" Natasha slammed her way into Sam's apartment, making Bucky shoot up off the couch as Sam peeked his head out from the kitchen. "What the fuck did you do?" "Hey, hey," Sam stepped fully into the room as Natasha grabbed Bucky by the collar of his shirt. "What did you do?!"

"What are you talking about?" Bucky questioned, keeping his hands up as Natasha kept a hold on him.

"Y/n is what i'm talking about!" She pushed his chest, making him stumble back.

"Is she okay?" Bucky asked, shrugging on his jacket.

"When I got to her apartment, she had been sitting in the same spot since you left. She hadn't eaten anything or as far as I know of slept or blinked. What the hell did you do?" Natasha's toned softened at the end, genuinely wanting to know his side of the story.

Sam sat down, hands on his knees as he listened to Bucky explain.

"We- we had a fight, she said I don't show her I love her and I-," Bucky paused, closing his eyes as he fought back tears. "I told her I didn't know what else to say, so I said we might need to be apart for a bit."

He fell down onto the couch, letting his head fall into his hands.

"You didn't tell me that part, man." Sam shook his head, walking back into the kitchen.

"How did you leave her?" Natasha asked.

"What?" Bucky looked up at her.

"When you packed your shit and left, how did you leave her?"

He rubbed his head with his hands, "She was sitting staring at nothing, crying."

Natasha shook her head, going to leave before Bucky zipped up his jacket, follow her. She turned back, placing a hand on his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" "Uh, I'm going with you to check on her."

"No you're not. You're gonna stay far away from her after throwing four years down the drain, Barnes." "I love her! I'm not gonna leave her like that!" Sam stepped back into the room, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder, making Natasha release him.

"You should've thought like that before you left her sobbing on the floor."

TWO MONTHS LATER

"Come on, y/n. Please come with us." Natasha walked into the living room as you sat on the couch.

It had been a long depressing road since you and Bucky had split, but you were finally feeling a bit better.

You had started to eat regularly again, even though you had lost a lot of weight, you weren't malnourished anymore. You were finally going on small missions, not assigned with Bucky of course. But you had yet to start being the social butterfly you once were again.

"Fine," You shrugged, standing up to change as Natasha smiled excitedly.

Slipping on a pair of jeans and a dark blue top, you realized your pants were a couple sizes too big. You groaned, slipping off the jeans and on a pair of black leggings.

The leggings hugged your skin tighter, making it look like your actual size and not too large on your frame.

"You want me to help?" Natasha asked, making you nod as she sat you down in front of your vanity. You watched as she softly brushed your hair before swiping some mascara over your lashes and putting some gloss on your lips.

"Ready?" Nat asked, pulling her purse over her shoulder before you did the same.

AT THE BAR

"Well don't you guys look hot." Sam smiled, wrapping an arm around you and the other around Natasha as he walked you both into the bar. They didn't bother checking ID's at the front, perks of being Avengers.

"Thanks, Sam." You smiled, entering through the doors as he kept a tight grip on you.

"What the hell?" Natasha pushed Sam off of her, "What is Barnes doing here?"

You looked up, seeing Bucky sitting at a booth with Steve, looking at you with a sorrowful expression.

Pulling yourself from Sam, your smile dropped, "I need a drink." You ignored the protests from Sam, also choosing to ignore the fact that he said he didn't know Bucky was gonna be there. You believed him, but that still didn't change the fact that to survive this night, you'd need a drink.

"What can I get ya'?"

"Gin and tonic, please." You answered the bartender, sliding over your card. Well, Tony's credit card he had loaned you when he found out about the split between you and Bucky. You hadn't given it back yet, but you also hadn't used it enough for Tony to care.

Looking over your shoulder as he made your drink, you saw Natasha scolding Sam and Steve, Bucky looked at you, staring from in between all of the chaos.

Your head shot back to the wooden bar, playing with the cuticles of your nails, you ignored his gaze. Well, you tried to.

"Well aren't you the prettiest thing that's walked into this bar all night." You looked to your right, seeing John Walker sitting beside you, smirking.

"Shut up, John." Taking your drink back, you slipped your card into your bag and took a long sip. The alcohol burned your throat, making you wince from the taste. However the way it made you feel warm and tingly inside made you go for another one.

"I heard about you and Barnes." John looked over at Bucky, making sure he knew he was talking to you. He definitely did, Bucky gripping the beer bottle in his hand hard enough to crack the neck of it.

"Leave me alone, John. Not in the mood to talk to you." You finished your first drink, waving to the bartender for another one.

Yet all of the sudden, you felt a hand crawl down your back, pressing against your hip in a brutal grip. "You don't wanna fight me, Y/n." Your heart dropped as you felt him smack your ass that was placed against the bar stool, "I always get what I want." He whispered before his touch left your body, making you sit there in shock as you started your second drink.

Meanwhile over at the table, Bucky slammed his beer onto the wood, "I'm gonna kill him."

"Buck, stop, she can handle herself," Sam placed a hand on Bucky's chest, "You don't have the right to fight her battles anymore."

The group talked for a few more minutes as Bucky sat there, seething. He knew he had no right to help you, and he knew you could handle yourself. But he still loved you, you had to know that. Shaking his head, he spoke.

"I don't care, I-" Bucky looked around, "Where did she go?" The four looked toward where you were last at, not seeing you.

Natasha stood up, slipping over Steve and out of the booth, "She's probably in the bathroom, just keep an eye out." However, she didn't find you in the bathroom, women or the mens. Even after checking the supply closet and the back part of the bar you were nowhere to be found.

Walking back over, Nat shook her head, "I can't find her."

You stumbled through the alley, knowing a shortcut to the subway. You had started feeling a little strange after your second drink.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grip your hair and throw you back onto the ground. Your hand shot to your head, seeing the blood already start to drip from it hitting a brick that was laying in the alleyway.

"I told you, I always get want I want." John Walkers face appeared over yours, making you kick up in instinct, hitting him in the balls which made him go down pretty quickly.

You scrambled away, leaving your purse behind and toward the entrance of the alley. You cursed, knowing you should've told Natasha that you were going home, and that you started feeling weird after your second drink.

Your body started to give out as your knees buckled below you. John regained his footing, coming up behind you and pushing you down to the ground. You pleaded, shaking your head as a tear slipped down your cheek. You couldn't move, or do anything as you felt him start to pull at your leggings.

In this moment, you tried to make your mind go somewhere, anywhere but here. You had been trained by the finest in SHIELD, you made your way up to the Avengers through stealth and brutality. But this situation, you weren't trained for.

All you could think about was your Bucky. The man you loved, the man that protected you even when you knew you could hold your own for so many years. The man that held you as you cried about the death of your SHIELD partner, and the man that made every holiday magical because your family didn't care about them.

So when you felt John place a disgusting sweaty hand on the curve of your back, you could only shout one name.

"B-Bucky!" You screamed, making John slam your face into the pavement, ultimately shutting you up.

"Your soldier isn't coming to save you now." John laughed, pulling the belt on his jeans.

"Hey! Get the fuck off of her!" You heard a voice shout before you could hear a heavy punch land, making the weight John had on your body disappear.

"Honey?" A figure appeared in your eye-line, crouching down to look at you. "Natasha?" Your vision was blurry but you could make out the red hair and the worried blue eyes. "It's me, honey." She leaned up, screaming for Sam and Steve.

They both pulled you up, Sam lifting you into his arms. "Bucky?"

"Buck!!" Sam looked over, seeing Bucky had beaten John to a pulp, his face almost unrecognizable. "She wants you, man!" Bucky stood, spitting out the blood from the one good hit John had landed before Steve went to apprehend Walker. Bucky limped over, taking you from Sam's arms and holding you gently but tightly.

"Doll?" You saw his worry through blurry vision, making you tuck your head into his chest. "I called for you, and you came." "We gotta get her home," Natasha said, texting a driver Tony had on payroll.

"I'll always come, doll. Always." Bucky looked down at you in concern, seeing the car pull up as he shifted with you still in his lap, into the backseat.

The red head slid in next to Buck, your head resting in his lap as your feet laid over Nat's legs.

"We're gonna handle Walker," Sam looked back, seeing Steve haul him up with handcuffs around Johns wrists. "Update us when you get her safe." He shut the door with a solemn look, walking back to help Steve.

"We gotta take her to Cho," Bucky shook his head, feeling the blood seep out from the back of your head onto his hand. Hearing his words, the driver barreled his way through the streets of New York, heading for the tower.

You opened your eyes slowly, looking up at Bucky. You could see him, scanning over your body as if another part of you would break at any moment.

"Buck," You lifted your hand, placing it on his cheek, the stubble from his beard tickled your palm.

"I'm right here, doll." He held your hand on his face, feeling your waining strength.

"I'm sorry, Buck." A tear slipped down, "I know you want me in your life, I shouldn't.." You stuttered, closing your eyes slowly before focusing back on the worried man above you, "I shouldn't have said what i-"

"Doll, stop," Bucky shushed you softly. "I shouldn't have left like I did. I was a coward, I should've fought for you, fought for us."

You let out a sob, interlocking your fingers with his. But before you could speak again, the car stopped in front of the tower, making Natasha throw the door open as Bucky carried you through the med wing entrance.

"Helen!!" Natasha yelled, pushing open the doors, catching the doctors attention. Bruce was sitting in his chair, tinkering with some sort of medical technology before everyone's heads snapped up.

"What happened?" Dr. Cho questioned, immediately prepping a table so Bucky could lay you down.

He softly placed your back on the metal bench, making sure your head didn't hit it. But as he took his hand away from the back of it, he noticed the amount of blood that was staining his hands. "Walker, he drugged her at the bar. She tried to leave but he caught her in the alley." Bucky gulped, glancing at Natasha as Cho and Banner started to work on you, you having already passed out again. "We barely made it in time."

Tears came to Helen's eyes as she heard what had happened. You and her had become close since you were good with technology. You helped her out at the lab, and she patched you up after missions. But she pushed back the tears, looking at Bruce. "Help me flip her on her side, I need to stitch the back of her head."

Natasha's resolve finally broke as she saw you laying there on the table, helpless. Tears streamed down her face as she crouched down beside the door. You were like a little sister to Natasha, and for this she blamed herself. She should've sat with you at the bar, she should've been with you having a drink instead of scolding Steve for inviting Bucky. So many should have's ran through her brain. It was the only way to ignore the pain she felt in her chest as she watched them stick you with needles and attach you to different monitors.

"Please be okay," Natasha whispered, repeating it like a mantra.

Yet in Bucky's head, all he could focus on was the way the heart monitor beeped. You were alive, your heart beat was elevated but you were breathing. He knew it would take a long time for you to recover from this, not physically but mentally. He didn't know how you would handle it, or what you would say to him when you woke up.

But he did know one thing, he wouldn't be leaving your side through any of it.

THE NEXT DAY

Bucky hadn't moved, not an inch. His feet had been planted in the same spot for over 12 hours. He could feel his stomach rumbling and the dark circles under his eyes had for sure darkened. But he wouldn't move, not until he knew you were okay. Not until you had woken up.

"Barnes," Natasha walked in, having changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Bucky's head snapped over to her, acknowledging her presence before his gaze went right back to you.

You looked so small, laying in the hospital bed, a bandage over the back of your head where Helen stitched you up. An IV line was sticking out of the top of your hand and there was a small cut above your eyebrow, and a slightly bigger one on your cheek where John had slammed your head into the pavement. Two white bandages covering each.

"Go take a shower, Barnes. Eat, do something." Natasha tried to convince him, but he shook his head, "I'm not leaving her, not again." The red head sighed, going over to the counter and pulling out a large piece of gauze, pouring some alcohol onto it. She made her way over to Bucky grabbing his hand, startling him. "What are you-" "Do you really want her to wake up and see her blood stained all over your hands?" Natasha made eye contact, watching him shake his head before continuing to clean your blood from his finger and his palm.

A long silence ensued between the two of them before he spoke, "You know I never wanted a break, I love her. I just wanted her to find better." Bucky dropped his head onto your hand, holding your thigh with his metal one.

"You're so full of shit Barnes." Natasha stood up, throwing away the blood soiled gauze as Bucky's head shot up in confusion. "What?" "Do you have any idea how much that girl loves you? In the beginning of your relationship who do you think made sure the fridge was stocked with your favorite breakfast bars? Freshly made too. Who do you think had your back on all of those missions when you came onto the team just because she couldn't bear to see you hurt."

Natasha pulled up a chair on the other side, placing her hand on yours, "Who do you think went to the senate, putting her own reputation on the line to get you that pardon?" Bucky closed his eyes, going over the past four years in his mind, he made a mistake. A huge one.

"Hey, don't rat me out." Your scratchy voice sounded out, making Bucky and Natasha's head snap in your direction.

"Go get Helen!" Bucky said as he stood, feeling the stiffness in his legs from not moving. Natasha nodded, running out of the room.

"Hey Buck." You smiled up at him, accidentally moving your head causing you to wince.

"Don't move your head too hard, doll. You got a nasty gash back there." He pushed the button next to your IV, making more morphine flood through.

You nodded as best you could, feeling Bucky take his hand off of yours. But that didn't last long as you pulled him back, looking over his frame. "You look like shit, handsome."

Bucky laughed, making you smile. You hadn't heard that beautiful laugh in so long.

You pulled his face down to yours, "I heard what you said, how could you think I ever wanted anyone other than you, that I deserve better?"

Bucky kissed your head, "I was being a dumbass, doll." You nodded again, reaching up to kiss his cheek, "Please don't leave me again, Buck. I don't think I could handle it."

"Never again, doll. I'm never leaving again."