Fistful Of Metal

Talk fantasy prosthetics to me.

An elf maiden dances on feet of living wood sung into shape, planted in soil and watered when she takes them off. Every year she plants the old ones and sings a new pair. (Incidentally, the pair of peach saplings from three years ago have produced an excellent crop- She makes preserves from them, and despite the inevitable jokes about “toe-jam”, they are appreciated.)

A dwarf king has a metal fist, all tiny gears and fine wires, kept wound by a mischievous mine-spirit bound to the spring as punishment- the more it struggles, the tighter the spring. 

An orc chieftaness is regularly asked for the story of how she earned the name Wyrmthrottler- she boasts of how she strangled the dragon that ate her arm, and had her shaman make a new arm from its bones, with its fangs as the fingers.

A necromancer simply re-attached his old leg bones- Sacrificing a few mice each day keeps it going.

A pirate captain lost her arm to a shark attack: a passing selkie saved her, and gave her tattoos of kraken blood. Now she has an arm made of salt-water, that grows and wanes with the tides, and swings a cutlass as well as the original. (She doesn’t sail as far these days though: she doesn’t want her wife to worry.)

A wandering swordsman was broken at the waist- his ancestral armour allows him to walk again, as long as he keeps it polished, and burns incense to the ancestors regularly.

A high priestess has an eye made from a crystal ball- to predict the future, all she has to do is wink.

A bard was struck deaf by illness- he struck a deal with the god of music. Now he wears hearing-trumpets made from his old pipes, and dedicates his every song to the god of music- the better he plays, the better his hearing. (It is said his music could make statues weep, and he can hear a mouse fart at 60 paces.)

A princess has the arm of a golem, enchanted clay with mystic words carved in- her music tutor despairs of how her harp playing has become even worse, but her calligraphy tutor is ecstatic over her handwriting.

A goblin pickpocket has an arm made of whatever he steals- no-one feels his fingers, and even if they did, they couldn’t find their possessions amongst all the rest.  

A witch has eyes made from shadow and starlight, given to her in a game with a demon. Nobody dares to ask what she wagered- they aren’t even sure she won.

A warg was born deaf and blind- his people learned of his power when the nearest birds started staring at them, and dogs pricked up their ears as he walked past.

Cleanse

Bucky x reader

Notes: WARNING! physical abuse, threats, protective Bucky, fluff. 

A/N: I found this little thing hanging around on my phone. It’s a little dark, but fluffy too. 

Originally posted by wintersthighs

1 new text message from Y/N, 10:23 PM:

‘Bucky, can you please come over?’

Bucky checked his phone when he heard the familiar sound of an incoming message. His brow furrowed at the sight.

“Gotta go” he mumbled hurriedly, and jumped up, grabbing his coat as he ran out the door to the elevator.

“Hey! Where are you goin’? Thought we were going out!” Sam yelled after him; but the elevator doors already closed.

“Don’t take it personally, Sam. It’s probably Y/N” Steve quipped with a smirk.

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Medicine (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

I’m so sorry for any stupid errors, its 2am and my brain is mush but I can’t sleep so I sHALL WRITE

-Jazz

Request; You are Bucky’s personal medicine, the only one that can calm him down. And HYDRA used you to keep him line. And she is small and fragile but when Bucky is taken to the Stark Tower he wants her so the team has to go get her from the HYRDA base. And she doesn’t talk much and gets scared and only trust Bucky and he is protective over her

Other characters featured; sam, steve, nat 

KEY

Y/N - Your name

Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Warnings; talks about torture, language 

Word count; 1449

Originally posted by rohgers


‘He won’t snap out of it, Rogers,’ Natasha explained, a sigh evident in her voice. ‘Usually he comes around after a day, but it’s been nearly a week and-’

‘- You need to give him time.’ Steve interrupted, staring at his best friend behind the glass.

 An ex-HYDRA agent had triggered his Winter Soldier mode on a recent mission and after much destruction and pain, they’d managed to get him into a Hulk-proof glass room. He kept coming in and out of the phase over the course of the week, sometimes Bucky and other times the Winter Soldier.

‘I wasn’t finished.’ The ginger assassin continued. ‘I was reading his files - Looking at what they used to calm him back at HYDRA.’

‘Don’t even go there. He can’t handle anymore drugs.’

‘It’s not a drug, Steve.’ Sam was now stood beside them, Bucky’s file in his hands. ‘It’s a person. Y/N Y/L/N.’

Their converation was abruptly stopped by a smashing of a metal fist against the glass - Bucky was stood in front of them, breathing heavily. He looked angry, but there was a glint of nostalgia in his eyes.

‘What did you just say?’ He spat.

‘Y/N,’ Steve said slowly. ‘You know them?’

‘Y/N,’ Bucky stepped away, muttering to himself. ‘For the first time in six days, he was calm, his words wild as he stared furiously at the floor.

‘There we go,’ Natasha grinned to herself. ‘We need Y/N.’

Bucky’s eyes snapped back up to hers at the mention of the name again.

‘We need Y/N.’ Steve nodded, repeating her words back to her. ‘But is she still there? Is she even still alive-’

‘Don’t you dare say that!’ Bucky yelled, smacking the glass again. ‘Stop talking about me like I’m not even here!’ He stopped, breathing heavily. ‘Of course she’s alive. She has to be.’

‘I’ll try, Buck. I promise.’

He grabbed Natasha and Sam by the elbows, yanking them into the office opposite to the holding room and out of earshot from Bucky. Sam was still reading the file while Natasha was peering over his shoulder.

‘She used to be good at calming him down,’ She explained. ‘HYDRA tried to separate them, they were too dependent on each other. After that, they got angry and both attempted to assassinate their guards until within each other’s presence again.’

‘That’s wild,’ Sam commented.

‘And it’s just what we need.’ Steve replied.

‘Are you suggesting we break into a HYDRA base?’ Natasha’s green eyes thinned, her ginger falling over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side. ‘But which one?’

‘SHIELD traced the last base to somewhere on the outskirts of the city last week,’ He responded. ‘Their planning the raid to destroy, but if we can get in and out quickly and quietly without them noticing, Fury will be none the wiser.’

‘You are insane, Rogers.’ Sam huffed. ‘But I’m in.’

‘Me too.’ Natasha replied.


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King of Memes

Or, how Tony Found Out About Bucky’s Blog. 


Tony couldn’t seep. Sometimes he managed a few hours if he was tired enough, so usually he went to the gym and worked out until he was exhausted. Tonight, though, he found the gym already occupied: Barnes, with his hair tied up, working steadily at the heavy bag. Normally Tony would make an awkward comment and leave him to it, but instead he just heads for the opposite side of the gym. After setting up at one of the far treadmills, Tony worked his way to a easy run. Barnes was laying his fists rhythmically into the bag, and the quiet thumping was sort of strangely soothing. Between the running and the thumping, Tony slipped into a near-trancelike state.

 And then Barnes let out an ungodly howl, drew back his left fist, and slammed it straight through the heavy bag with a roar of, “DIE A THOUSAND BURNING DEATHS!”

Tony fell off the treadmill, scrambled to his feet, and booked it to the elevator.


kingofmemes posted:

holy shit you guys there was a spider on my punching bag !!! thanks to my many years of combat experience & martial arts training things are okay now

Posted at 4:47 AM, 37294 notes


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Angel

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Mardi Gras shenanigans. It’s porn, plot is optional.

Word Count:1,976

Warnings: Language, Smoking, Dirty Talk, Oral (MR)

A/N: Are you ready for the longest blowjob in history… (I don’t own the gif)

“Did it hurt?” Sam approached you, a sly smirk on his lips. When you didn’t play along and simply shot him an unimpressed look, he snickered. “…when you fell from Heaven.”

Yeah, you were dressed as an angel.

Not your idea, though. As it turned out, Wanda was a big fan of Mardi Gras and begged until you all agreed to throw a costume party. Tuesday morning, she shoved a white dress into your arms and said you were an angel. You didn’t want to upset her, so you just rolled with it.

Sam laughed at his own joke before the smell of pancakes drew his attention away from you. You looked around the room and sighed, sipping your second glass of… whatever it was Natasha had given you. It was good, a bit fruity and bitter enough to match your mood.

Wanda, who was dressed as Violet from the Incredibles, was running around the living room, filling plates with pancakes. Loud music blasted through the speakers.

“Looking for someone?”

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Burden of Proof

Word Count: 2357

Request: “ Thought; spontaneously dragging Steve of Bucky into random makeout sessions throughout the day and then just leaving him out of breath as you continue in with your business” And a very pleasant thought it is. 

Warning: Language, making out, and utter ridiculousness

A/N: I had more free time than I anticipated, so you’re getting this early. You have the snow storm to thank for this nonsense.

Steve Version

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

“Ow ow ow ow ow!” you groaned through clenched teeth as Natasha dragged you through the halls and over the bodies of the incapacitated Hydra agents.

“Hush! There could still be some stragglers hanging around,” she hissed at you, readjusting her hold in order to pull you along more quickly.

“Well if you hadn’t been there to pull me out of the way, that delightful bullet would have definitely silenced me for good. You have only yourself to blame.”

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Good Climactic Anime Fights

Originally posted by dragonball-world

Originally posted by gourmetsloth

Originally posted by wrybrando

Originally posted by elblindoguardiano

Originally posted by bubblesaski

Originally posted by animebunnies

Originally posted by smokeebuddah

Originally posted by tortnedure

Originally posted by son-of-a-namek

Originally posted by yakumocchi

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Too Close (B.Barnes) *SMUT*

Too Close

Bucky Barnes

Warnings: a/b/o dynamic, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), swearing, some hair pulling, dirty talk

Tagging; @heatherhoney2000 @widowsfics @myluvislikewow @canibeadino @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @buckysbackpackbuckle @angelsdeadromance @potterhead7656 @annadier @shawnmendes987q @glittervelvetandlace @dislarryting @wine-and-space-donuts @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @gothamsmermaid @fantasticimpaladoctor @nopevilleluas @kinqshley @makeupgirllaur @eileenlikesyou-maybe @incadinkadoo @mermaidinplaid @lostinspace33 @heavymetalangel @therealcap @princess-basket-case



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Just Another Bucky Smut

Summary: Just a Bucky x Reader smut. There really isn’t much of a story, it’s mostly smut.

Warnings: Dom!(ish)andJealous!Bucky, smut

A/N: My brother walked in and saw me writing this and just sighed so I hope you enjoy the second hand embarrassment that comes with my life.

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Rules of Engagement (shiro x reader)

Rules of Engagement

Shiro x Reader

Imagine: Being the communications specialist with Shiro and Matt at the garrison.

Warning: Just a little making out ;)

AN: Hey guys! I hope you all like this one, let me know what you liked, or if you have any requests!

~~~

His lips felt like fire on her skin. There was no pulling away at this point, not that it even crossed her mind. The feeling of his body pressed against hers, his thigh positioned between her legs, how his fingers gripped her hips, all of it made it impossible to think of anything else, but how good it felt. This was definitely against protocol, the small portion of her brain that has retained its sanity thought in the back of her head. It all felt like a deram. And if it was she never wanted to wake up.

She and Shiro were on the same flight team at the garrison. He was the pilot, and she, his communications specialist. They were also accompanied by an engineer by the name of Matt Holt, she swore he was some kind of genius, it was the only explanation for how smart he was. They had all been friends, but with the hours spent in the flight simulator, the late night study sessions, the constant contact between them, they became much more than that. The connection between her and Shiro was unshakable, you would never see one without the other, inseparable. It wasn’t until their third year at the garrison, did they notice a change in their dynamic. They weren’t the only ones to notice this change, Matt knew something was going on between them, even if they didn’t know exactly what.

For weeks, it was nothing but chaos. Longing stares from across the room, lingering touches, constant blushing, all at the expense of Matt’s sanity. There was a time when the two of you could barely be in the same room, in fear that in your clumsy state, someone could get hurt. Matt didn’t mind at first, that is until your team failed the flight simulator, putting a permanent ‘F’ on his record. Shiro had gotten distracted by you, in the middle of the mission, when you cut your hand on a stray screw driver, causing Shiro to panic, and in the end, sent their team crashing to the ground in a blazing fireball. He’d had enough.

He told you both to meet him in room B26, to go over what went wrong, and finish the mission report on the simulation failure. Each of you feeling a different kind of shame in the failure of the basic sim, and each feeling that it was your fault things had gone south.

The next morning when you arrived at the room, you met with Shiro on the way, but neither of you could stand to meet the other’s gaze. Too embarrassed to think it was your lack to self control that had ruined the mission. Keeping your head bowed, you both entered the room, the first thing you noticed was how cold and damp it was, the lights were off making it hard to see exactly where you were. Shiro’s shins came in contact with a mop bucket, sending it skidding across the floor.

“What the- “ he began, his eyes adjusting enough to see the shelves that lined the walls, filled different cleaning supplies. “Is this… a Janitor’s closet?” thinking that they must have walked into the wrong room, Shiro turned to exit, only to have the door slammed in his face. Shocked, he rushed forward testing the doorknob, and finding it locked. Thinking it must have been an accident, he slammed his fist against the metal door trying to get the attention of whoever had closed the door.

“Hey! We are in here! The door is locked, can you open it?” he called, hoping they were still close enough to hear him. There was a moment of silence, before they heard a familiar voice reply.

“I’m not letting you out until you two work this out! I don’t know what is going on with you buys, but whatever ‘it’ is, fix it! I am not going to get another ‘F’ in that stupid simulator, just because you two are acting like lovesick teenagers!” Matt’s voice was filled with a mix of anger and frustration. There was another pause, followed by what Shiro assumed was a sigh. “I’ll be back in an hour.” he said more calmly before walking away, ignoring the protests from his teammates.

They spent the next 10 minutes searching for another way out, only finding 4 metal walls all lined with janitorial equipment, and an air vent, too small for either of them to fit through. Shiro was sure Matt had picked this room specifically for that reason, no way to escape. Giving up on that idea, they resorted to searching for a light switch, their eyes adjusting enough to see outlines in the darkness but not much else. The tension in the room was palpable, neither of them trusting themselves to address the elephant in the room, why they were locked in here in the first place, they both knew what Matt had said was true, but were not willing to address it as the problem it was. Until the pressure got the better of them.

“I’m sorry.” you both blurted out at the same time. Fumbling to recover, you turned to continue, but your foot caught on the bucket Shiro had knocked over earlier, sending you sprawling on the floor.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?!” Shiro asked rushing over to where he had heard you fall. Unfortunately, instead of helping you, he stepped on your hand. You cried out again, cradling your hand to your chest as you pushed back against the wall, pulling your knees in. Shiro’s heart felt like it was in his throat, how had he managed to mess this up even more?

“Oh God, (Y/N) I’m so sorry!” he stammered his panic rising up. Standing where he was he ran a shaking hand through his hair. He didn’t dare move again, scared that he would accidentally hurt you again, instead he decided to speak, and once he started, he couldn’t stop, everything just poured out of his mouth.

“This is all my fault. I just really like you, and you’re so pretty, and smart, and when you smile it makes my stomach go crazy, and you’re laugh, oh god, your laugh! It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard! It’s just so hard for me to think when you’re around, my brain goes all fuzzy and I can’t focus on anything else. God, I should have known better, i should have tried harder to hide my feelings, or i should have transfered as soon as I realized I loved you, and, and now we are stuck in here, and you’re hurt and-” in the darkness, you made out his outline, and rose to your feet, equal parts shocked and thrilled to hear what he was saying. Reaching out you placed your hand on the side of his face, rendering him silent. You couldn’t see his face, and you prayed he couldn’t see yours, you could feel your cheeks reddening as you drew closer. He could feel you coming closer, your hand gliding over his face, your fingertips tracing the outline of his lips. You felt his warm breath against your fingers, as you moved your hand to the base of his neck, standing on your toes. You hesitated, your lips stopping just shy of his.

Swallowing his nerves, Shiro closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips with his. In that moment it was like a fire was lit between you. His hands were on you in an instant, pulling you closer as his mouth moved against yours. Pressing forward, you stumbled back, your shoulders hitting the metal walls of the room hard. Shiro only paused for a moment before he was on you again, pinning your body to the wall with his own. His fingers gripped your sides, pawing at the material of your uniform. Pressing closer, he fit himself against you, a leg between yours, his hips against yours, like fitting puzzle pieces together. His lips pulled away from yours, only to attach to the exposed skin on your neck. He groaned into the hollow of your neck, as you raked your fingers through his hair, pulling on it slightly.

The heat between you continued to grow, and the once cold room felt like a furnace. So consumed in the moment, you both failed to notice the door to the room slide open. Matt caught site of the two of you, and paused for just a moment, as his mind registered the situation. Shaking his head, he crossed his arms over his chest, before clearing his throat. And just as quickly as it had started, the trance was broken. Shiro tore his body away from yours, his hair was sticking up in odd directions from where you fingers had mused it. While you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to stop your knees from shaking, and straighten your uniform at the same time, the small marks on your neck beginning to form. Both of your lips were swollen, and your faces were red, and in Matt’s opinion, you both looked thoroughly kissed. An amused smile pulled at Matt’s lips as he watched the two of you fumble to compose yourselves. No one spoke for a long moment, until finally, Matt broke the ice.

“Well,” he began, his voice eerily calm. “I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming, cause I did, and for that reason, I planned ahead. Because if ‘this’” he gestured between the two of you quirking an eyebrow. “Is going to happen, there need to be some ground rules.” stepping forward, he reached into his bag and pulled out a large 3 ring binder, shoving it into Shiro’s chest, who caught it quickly, looking down at the cover.

“‘Rules and guidelines of dating a teammate’” he read aloud, lifting his eyes questioningly to Matt.

“Volume 1?” you read over Shiro’s arm. “How many volumes are there?” you asked watching Shiro flip through the pages, each filled with words, and some having charts and pictures… this was obviously something Matt had put time into, and it definitely took longer than the hour they had been in there.

“There are 2 others back in my room, but I haven’t finished editing them.” Matt answered calmly. You nearly choked, and Shiro swallowed thickly, his eyes wide. Indifferent, Matt continued. “Also, there will be a quiz, so I would suggest going on a ‘study date’ instead of making out in a janitor’s closet.” you heaved a sigh, before turning your eyes to Shiro, a smile pulled at you lips, despite the obvious dislike of the situation.

“I’m free tonight.” you said, Shiro’s heart skipped a beat. He would read 50 of Matt’s ridiculous rule books, if it meant he got to see you smile like that again.

Devil Side-Chapter 1

Summary:After a rough mission Bucky comes home to you broken, he pulls away from you, stays out late, comes home drunk and smelling like alcohol and cheap perfume, you confront him about his behavior, Bucky reacts in a way you did not expect, and it destroys your relationship.

Warnings: Angst, Violence, language, slight abuse.

Pairings: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 1440

You were seated on the love seat in front of the television, your slender calves tucked underneath you, a warm faux fur blanket thrown haphazardly over your small frame with hair knotted in a high bun. Your favorite fuzzy pink pajamas bringing little comfort. It was almost four am. The clock ticking menacingly on the wall reminding you that this was the third time this week Bucky had failed to come home to you. Sighing deeply, ignoring the tears pooling in your eyes, you reach for your phone, hoping he had sent a message, telling you where he was at the very least.

Swiping at the screen, the glaring emptiness of your inbox was apparent. Not a single text from your boyfriend, not a missed call, nothing. You hurl your phone at the wall, watching as it smashes to pieces, bits of plastic raining onto the carpet. Immediately regretting your fit of pique, the shame blossoming in your chest has you rubbing your tired eyes gently. You settle back into the couch, staring at the door as your hand drops to your lap, fidgeting absent mindedly with the edge of the throw.

It hasn’t always been this way. Your relationship with Bucky had been a happy one, filled with laughter and love, respect and understanding. Granted, Bucky had never been an easy man to get along with. His PTSD and survivor’s guilt had plagued him nightly, manifesting in the most garish nightmares. He would flail and scream, waking drenched in sweat, eyes wild and fists clenched. He would brood for days after an episode, refusing to touch you, sometimes moving back into the tower only to come back after a couple of days. You had accepted him as he was, loved him for his flaws, his humor, his sense of morality. Bucky Barnes was inherently good, no matter how often he claimed he was a monster, you had never believed him.

The change had started two months ago after a particularly rough mission. he wouldn’t or couldn’t give you details, but he had stared vacantly at a wall for twelve hours, sending you into a panic when you couldn’t pull him out of it. Eventually you had to call Steve who talked Bucky back into the world of the living.

You had joked that he came back just to make Steve shut up, but Bucky didn’t even attempt to smile. A small part of you knew then, just knew, you had lost him.

It got progressively worse from there. He would stay out late, come home smelling like Bourbon and perfume, the stale smell of smoke lingering on his clothes. At first you confronted him, demanded an explanation for his actions. Bucky would merely sit quietly on the couch, not answering your demands for answers, before he would rise and lock himself in the bedroom, leaving you to cry alone.

It was the beginning of the end, one night a week turned to two, then three. He would barely talk to you, wouldn’t look at you, until he barely came home at all.

Pain. It’s such a broad term. Everything from physical to mental anguish falls under the word. It conjures up cuts and bruises, heart break and illness, yet it couldn’t describe what it was you felt when Bucky started to distance himself from you. It felt like heat, hot flames licking at your insides, burning a white path to your chest. It felt like knives, deliberately pushed into a raw exposed nerve. It felt like isolation, rejection, loneliness. Somewhere in your gut you knew that it was going to come to a head, and tonight would be the determining factor in your relationship.

The soft click of the door pulls you out of your head, your eyes focusing on the figure stumbling through it, his blue eyes red rimmed. You could smell the alcohol from your seat on the couch. Cheap cigarettes and perfume waft with it making you gag. You close your eyes tightly for there was no denying it anymore. You knew what he was doing, or at least assumed. It didn’t matter either way, you needed answers, needed an explanation for the distance, for the turmoil he was causing.

“Did you have fun?” you ask softly. “Did it make you forget?”

Bucky grunts, his metal fist clenched at his side. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he answers, throwing his keys nonchalantly in the bowl by the door. “I wanna go to bed, we can talk in the morning.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It is morning, James, and there’s no time like the present,” you reply calmly, covering the hurt with a mask of neutrality. Rising to your feet and closing the distance between you, raising a hand lightly to his face, just to touch, to soothe. You needed to feel him, just once. It had been so long since his smooth skin was underneath your fingertips, but he flinches away from you, his eyes set in a cold glare, slightly glazed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. You swallow down the sob the action brings, dropping your hand limply to your side. “Please let me help you, Bucky, I can’t stand seeing you like this,” pleadingly, voice filled with emotion, you almost delude yourself into thinking his eyes soften, that his shoulders relax, but the emotion is gone before you can process it replaced by burning anger.

“You can’t help me! You are the problem!” he roars. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

Instinctively you grab his arm to pull him close, to offer comfort, your hind-brain not communicating the dangers fast enough.

Before you can process whats happening, you’re slammed into a wall, your head bouncing off of it harshly. Stars burst in front of you, a low moan of pain sounds in your chest. Your hair is suspiciously wet as Bucky’s metal fist slams repeatedly into the wall next to your face, drilling a hole in it. Chunks of plaster and chips of paint fall onto the floor while Bucky snarls viciously into your face.

Breathing rapidly, eyes wide with fear, your entire body shakes violently. You had never been afraid of him, never once had you thought he would hurt you, but you watch his eyes as he seems to come to, come back from whatever dark place he’d disappeared into.

Realisation dawns, brings revulsion at himself, his actions.  Remorse and guilt fill his face as he raises his flesh hand to your face.

You whimper and flinch away, trying to hunch in yourself as he comes closer. You hear him suck in a sharp breath before he steps away from you. You don’t dare look at him, nor do you speak.

“Baby-” he stutters, his eyes wet with tears.

Shoving from the wall, you run as fast as you can. The door of your shared apartment bounces heavily in the frame as you slam it behind you. Fear and adrenaline pushing you to run faster. Blood is dripping down your collar, staining the pink of your pajama top red. Hailing a taxi through a haze of tears and delirious rambling, you tell the driver to take you to the one man that could protect you from Bucky, or so you hoped.

Trembling noticeably, your breathing labored, the taxi speeds down the streets of New York, taking you to your former home, the one place you had always felt safe. To your team, your family.

You needed to get to Steve.

The cab screeches to a halt in front of Stark Tower, and you clamber out unsteadily, tossing the driving a twenty in your haste. It’s started to rain, the heavy droplets soaking you to the bone in mere seconds. You bite down on your lip softly, the realisation suddenly hitting you that you couldn’t tell Steve what had happened with Bucky settles uneasily in your stomach.

Bucky was on temoultus ground as it was. Ripping Steve away from him would have severe consequences. He may even revert back to the Winter Soldier. No matter what he’d done, you couldn’t be responsible for that.

Sinking slowly to your knees on the curb, your body racked with silent tears, you decide not to tell Steve, but you couldn’t go home. You were stuck and alone.

You stay that way for what feels like an eternity before steadily rising to your feet. tucking a wet strand of hair behind your ear, then you enter the building, informing F.R.I.D.A.Y you would be staying in your old room.

The world and everything in it could wait till morning.

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