talkin beds

Krasivaya-Chapter 8

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have been friends for years. You are deeply, completely, in love with the super soldier, but he sees you as nothing more than a little sister. What happens when Bucky starts to date in earnest?

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Self-Esteem issues, Depression?, Anxiety.

Bruno Mars-Just the way you are

Exiting the gym, needing to pack and have a good cry before spending way too much time confined with Bucky, you turn a corner and see Steve.

He wastes no time in hauling you off your feet and slinging you over his shoulder. It’s clear he’s mad at you, the tightness of his shoulders and tense set of his jaw giving him away. “What the hell was that, doll?” he grits out.

Shame coats your insides, replaced quickly by anger. “Put me down you child!” Wriggling to escape his grasp is a fruitless endeavor, you know this. The man pulled a helicopter out of the air for heaven sake! There was no way you could escape him, but you were still going to try.

“Stop moving!” he grunts, his hand comes down in arc landing a solid hit your ass.

The stinging makes you gasp. “What the hell, Steven!” you yell, face red from embarrassment. There are Agents lingering in the halls of the compound.You can hear the snickering and suggestive remarks. This little incident was going to be fodder for the gossipmongers within minutes. You were surprised no one was taking video. Fueled by your embarrassment, you start to fight in earnest, pounding and scratching at his back, doing your best impression of a pissed off chinchilla.

He grunts once, wrapping a muscled arm around your flailing legs to stop you from kicking. “If you don stop, doll, I’m gonna put you over my knee and spank you blue,” he grumbles in warning.

You deflate, laying limp over his shoulder as he takes you to your bedroom. You aren’t looking forward to the myriad of rumors you’ll have to face when you get back. Immortal Mutant foiled by Captain America, you think, snorting out loud as Steve kicks open the door to your bedroom.

Striding forward, he deposits you unceremoniously on your bed. “Start talkin’.” He crosses his arms over his chest, slipping effortlessly into Captain America mode.

You groan and roll your eyes, scrambling underneath your blankets, pulling them over your head “Go away!” you yell petulantly.

He sighs and tries to yank the blankets off of you. A tug of war ensues, accompanied by hissing and swearing and pained grunts as you land kicks to Steve’s stomach. Fed up he growls once before ripping the blanket straight down the middle. Dragging you down the bed by your ankles, he yells, “Stop acting like a child! I said start talking!”

Clamping your mouth shut, you peer up at him stubbornly, refusing to give an inch.

“(Y/N) I swear to God almighty if you don’ start talkin’ I’m gonna do somethin you’re gonna regret.”

You cover your face with your hands, sighing. “Don’t make me, Steve.”

He scoffs “Talk. What’s this not good enough bullshit? I want an explanation, now!”

You sneak a look at him through your fingers.

He’s red in the face, barely concealing the anger and hurt inside him.

Well fucking done (Y/N). You can add another name to the list of all the people your miserable existence has affected negatively.

Sitting upright, trying to pull your ankles out of his grasp, your cast your eyes downward. “It’s true,” you sigh, “don’t try and tell me otherwise, Cap. Do we really need to do this now? I just want to take a shower, pack, and maybe cuddle a bit?” You cast puppy eyes at him, making sure to bite your bottom lip in the process. Cap is a sucker for cute, rarely saying no when you turn on the charm.

He falters, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth before he huffs, “Dammit, (Y/N)!”

You know you’ve won. Grinning broadly, you sit on your haunches, batting your eyelashes for effect. “Can I shower please? You can get a head start on the packing?” your voice is sickly sweet.

He’s nodding before he can stop himself, the Captain America facade slipping entirely, replaced by the Steve you would take a bullet for. “Fine. Shower, but this conversation isn’t over.” He tries his best to be stern, but you can see him fail. The hard Captain America shell hid such a gooey Steve center!

Bounding off the bed, grinning cheekily over your shoulder, you toss him wink. “We both know I won this round, Stevie.” You hurry into the bathroom, locking the door behind you as the indignant protest of Steve reaches your ears.

Twenty minutes later you exit the bathroom. Spying your bags packed, along with a duffle full of miscellaneous weapons sitting on top of the others, you frown. “I don’t use weapons, Steve. I don’t need them.”

He looks slightly sheepish. “I just want ya to be safe, doll. I don like it when you run into battle without a stitch of protection.”

Your frown deepens. “Steve, they weigh me down. I really don’t need them. I can strip the skin off bone in less than five seconds with my mind. What am I gonna do with a gun?” You peer at the topmost offending object and gasp, “Is that..Is that a grenade launcher?” Whirling, you face Steve.

He’s rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You can never be too careful, doll.”

You bark out a laugh and launch yourself at him, engulfing him in a bone crushing hug. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you, Stevie?” you mumble into his chest.

He strokes at your hair affectionately. “You exist, darlin’. That’s all it takes,” he states simply.

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I think one of the worst parts about living in different time zones than your friends is that any time you want to commiserate over the fact that neither of you can fricking go to bed, you just look like you’re trying to one-up them with how late you’re up. :/

Anyway, I’m drinking Rice Krispies from a mug bc I Lov the Cronch. How is your morning going?

Don't write a tragic villain

I’d name this “tropes against survivors episode 77” if I was feeling like being facetious and also a little prickly about gamergate, which I always am because fuck gamergate, but I think about apologism quite a lot, and I think about things I read and watch because that’s all I do nowadays– I’m a great big pit media is falling into and not much seems to crawl back out. The curse of Echo comes to mind.

To The Fucking Point;

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