Description: Bucky x Reader. The reader, a trained assassin, decides that she no longer wants to be a killer and that a new start is in order with help from the most unlikely places.
Author’s Note: Oh I enjoyed this far too much. SUCH FUN. The fluff will be back soon.
You’d been shot before. Three years ago was the last one - much prettier setting that time though, it’d been on a beach in the Dominican Republic somewhere. Birds had soared into the sky out of the nearby trees at the sound, moving as one into the dusky sky. At the same time, you crashed to the sand far less gracefully, sand grains getting in your mouth and hair. It’d been a leg shot. Painful and impossible to run fast with, but ultimately not much concern. You got away with no more than a small scar.
A shot to the stomach, however, was far more worrying. You were a realist, optimism was only for the rich and lucky. That much blood was never good but it wasn’t spurting so it was more likely that the bullet hit veins rather than arteries, or at least more of one than the other. Thank god for small mercies - you’d have a job surviving without medical attention but you’d have a bit more of a buffer in timings if you’d only hit veins… best not to mention the organs though.
“Y/N! Damn it!”
Bucky looked around wildly, catching sight of something to your left and nodding. He jumped up into a crouching position, looking down at you and swallowing hard. He frantically pulled off his jacket, swearing as his hand got caught in the sleeve - not that he waited to untangle it as with a small tug he ripped it. The next thing you knew was pressure being applied to the wound with said jacket. At least the guy knew his emergency care.
“Stay with me,” Bucky muttered, holding his jacket to you firmly.
“Yeah, well, I’m not going anywhere fast, am I?” you said, wheezing out the words. It hurt to talk but the faint flicker of a smile on his face was worth it.
Something exploded from across the street causing Bucky to jump, a jolt of pain searing through you at his movement. You looked hurriedly at Bucky, pedestrians blurring behind him as they ran and shouted now.
“Our driver’s here,” Bucky grimaced, nodding in the direction of the disturbance. He flinched slightly as he heard the sound of smashing glass but he wasn’t looking in that direction. “Can you walk?”
You nodded, moving your arm to push yourself up. With a whimper, you smacked back down onto the concrete, muttering a few expletives under your breath as you did so. That was embarrassing. You didn’t like seeming weak like that so you steeled yourself for a couple of seconds before shifting to try again, grunting in effort as you did so.
“What the-?” Bucky pursed his lips, “Stop that. Let me carry you.”
“It wasn’t a question, doll,” he muttered. Before you could protest further, he was scooping you up away from the sidewalk. “Your job is to keep the pressure on that wound, alright?”
“You’re bleeding, you’re not fine,” Bucky said, swallowing hard. He went quiet for a few seconds, adjusting the jacket to make sure it was in the best place. He bit his lip and spoke quieter, “They were aiming for me, Y/N, you should’ve-”
“This talk? Really?” you scoffed, coughing from the harsh motion, “Seriously, save that one for when I have two feet on the ground.”
Bucky didn’t respond verbally but you didn’t complain, truth be told any kind of talking hurt so you focused on keeping the now bloody jacket in place. You let your head roll to one side, resting against his chest as he began to stride down the quieting street. You could feel his heart against the side of your face, a rhythm so fast a marching band would end up in an early grave trying to keep up. Hopefully not the same early grave as you, that is.
“Stark!” Bucky shouted, half deafening you as he did so. He picked up the pace, heading towards where the explosion had been a minute ago.
Had you been able to turn your head, you would’ve seen he was actually heading for a conspicuous sports car with the famed billionaire landing back down at it’s side. Stark was dusting down his trousers as the last pieces of iron man tech folded back in on themselves and into his palm.
“She needs medical assistance,” Bucky said quickly as he got level with the backseat, the door opening vertically.
“Where’s she hit?”
“Abdomen. To the left.” Bucky gritted his teeth as he shifted and lowered you in, breaking into an apologetic grimace as you took a sharp intake of breath. It didn’t hurt as much now, but it was also getting harder to stay awake. Possibly not the best sign.
“That was Italian leather,” Stark said, letting out a small sigh as Bucky retreated, your blood quite obvious on his shirt. Stark swung himself into the driver’s seat, firing the engine up and pressing a few buttons that didn’t look like aircon. “If she can hold on 15 minutes, we still have the cradle in the tower.”
“The thing that made your pink friend?” Bucky said incredulously, slipping into the passenger side and slamming the door shut hard.
“The doors close themselves, that really wasn’t nece-”
With a small scoff, he slammed the car in reverse, putting his arm behind Bucky’s head restraint and looking through the rear window. His gaze flickered down to you and back to the window in a split second and he raised his eyebrows.
“Nice to meet you. Call me Tony,” he said to you, punctuating the ‘y’ by putting his foot down and reversing at top speed down the road. You couldn’t see well, but it seemed like he narrowly avoided a few objects as they whizzed past the side windows uncomfortably close. This went on for a few more seconds before he backed into a side alley, using it to turn so that he could in fact drive forwards again. He threw you a tight lipped smile, turning his body back to facing ahead and sped off in what you assumed was the direction of the Avenger’s tower.
You tried to keep your eyelids open and alert to your surroundings but they were becoming so heavy. The pain was definitely far less now but you kept Bucky’s jacket pressed against your abdomen anyway. It looked better on him, that was for sure. Maybe you’d buy him a new one when this was over? It was one of the few items of his that wasn’t black and a little colour suited him. Not the deep red shade it was now though, that wasn’t a good colour.
Bucky was saying something to you as you stared at the jacket and pondered this, but he’d have to repeat it when you woke up. Try as you might to fight it, you let your eyes flicker shut, unconsciousness taking over in a matter of seconds.