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kiritella · 1 year

Text

Red as Iron

Parings: Dad.Bucky x Daughter.Reader

Warnings: Blood.

Words: 1.0k

Type: beautiful and angsty

______________________

“Hello? Bucky said, tucking the phone he answered between his shoulder and ear. A small smile peeked on his face as he looked away from the files on his desk, staring instead out the window of his office.

“Hey, dad,” Y.n said, though her voice was hard to hear. She was probably on speakerphone again while she was working. He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Are you busy?”

“Nope,” he said, flipping closed the file on his desk and holding the phone properly in his hands. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, and he furrowed his brows. “What did you do?” he asked, teasing.

A chuckle. “Why is it you think I did something wrong?” she asked.

“Well,” he started, “You called me while I’m at work, and you got home from school only…” he glanced at his watch, “Dang, didn’t you just get home?”

“Pshh. Can’t I just call my dad and tell him I love him?” she said, and Bucky grinned.

“Well, I mean, you can,” he said.

She laughed quietly. “Well, I am. I see how much faith you have in me.”

“Hey, c’mon, I have faith in you!” he objected. “You just like to test that faith sometimes!”

“Sure, sure.” She paused again, a sigh on her end and he began to wonder. She must have had a hard day to be calling like this. If she had to call him at work, she tried to be quick about it so it wouldn’t distract him or get him in trouble. He had tried to tell her he wouldn’t get in trouble considering the work he did, but she always insisted.

“We just had something come up in history class today, and it made me think of you,” she said. “You really are amazing…and I’m really lucky you’re my dad. I love you.”

Bucky’s heart swelled in his chest as a slow smile spread on his lips, smothering the mental exhaustion from the work he had to do. “I love you too, Sweetheart.”

“I was thinking of that time in the park when I was like…4? Maybe, no–I must have been 5. You…you picked me up on your shoulders and ran around while I was pretending to fly.”

“You remember that?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“And then how you’d…” she sighed. “You’d always give me the benefit of the doubt, and let me cuddle up in your arms when I was little, and you always give me hugs…” another sigh. “I like your hugs. They’re warm.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head a little. “I’ll give you one when I get home…”

“You’d better,” she said with a short laugh. “I–” she stopped and Bucky looked at his phone when she didn’t continue. The connection was fine.

“Hello? You there?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I just love you, I guess…and I wanted you to know that,” she said, and Bucky’s heart melted.

“I love you too, sweetie. Gosh, you’re making me emotional,” Bucky said, adding a bit of teasing at the end. She was his baby girl. He didn’t understand the depth of connection a person could have to another until he held her in his arms for the first time.

“Hey, being emotional isn’t a bad thing sometimes,” she said and he hummed in agreement. “I have to go and finish homework now, so…I’ll talk to you later?”

“Alright,” he said, “I’ll finish up here and bring home pizza for dinner, okay?”

“That sounds amazing.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, dad…”

“Bye.”

“...Goodbye.” Y.n stayed on the line until she heard the click of his phone as he hung up and the sound of a disconnected line followed. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks and dripped from her skin. The droplets joined a pool of crimson red on the floor, swirling in spirals together until all that was left was a lighter shade of her blood. She gasped for breath as she glanced over to her cellphone, 911 still open on speakerphone as the home landline rested in her hands with a loud beeping coming from its empty line.

“...The ambulance is just another minute away,” came a choked voice from her cellphone. His voice was desperate. “Hang in there.”

“I’m hanging on…” she said as her head lolled to the side, resting against her shoulder. Pain radiated from her side where her hands covered a deep wound—a couple of deep wounds— Jagged and torn open from a knife plunged into her flesh in a panic. Red covered her side, her fingers, the floor beneath her and she choked on her breath, coughing. The taste of iron spilled on her tongue, dripping from the corner of her lips.

The living room became dark as though hidden in an immense black fog. Several things were out of place, a lamp shattered on the floor from where the side table had fallen over. A vase. She followed the trail of blood from where she lay against the wall to the center of the room where another pool of blood laid with a chilling realism. She closed her eyes as the room began to spin, and she tried to force another breath in, but cried as it entered her lungs. Her hands shook, though she realized now they were incredibly cold. She was freezing.

I like your hugs…they’re warm.

Another tear rolled down her skin. “Daddy?” a sharp breath, a sob. She waited as the sound of a disconnected line beeped over and over and over. The sound grew closer as her body slid from the wall, meeting the wooden floor in a final cold embrace. “Daddy?!” The landline laid in front of her, and she stared at it as the rest of the room disappeared from her mind as a swash of black and gray. It was her only response, her only comfort. She cried at how distant it was. Beeeep, beeeeep, beeeeeeep.

“Daddy?!”

“The ambulance is right there,” the police dispatcher said, urging her to keep it together.

Beeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

“Brooklyn Fire Department…We’re coming in!”

Beeeeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—

___________________________

Part two

___________________________

Forever Tags: [Add Yourself to the Taglist Here!]

@thelovelydreamer17 @bugsbucky

A.N: I went through and removed all accounts that were deactivated and broken links from the taglist.

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janesociety · 1 year

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daddy issues

tony stark x teen!reader

type: hurt/comfort (?)

summary: you get really sick and call tony dad

warnings: reader is sick, placement of an iv, allusion to painful past events (nothing described)

notes: this is very old and kinda cringy <3

pt ii

marvel masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

It started as a cold. Steve went to wake you up one morning when you didn’t come down for training and found you blowing your nose next to your trashcan that was almost overflowing. He gave you the day off, and then the next day, and then the next.

By the third day, the whole compound was concerned. Bucky had convinced you to try and get up and eat breakfast and so you did. You were so weak that he had to try and help you out of your bed.

“It’s okay, doll,” he mumbled as you apologized profusely as he helped you stand. The two of you trudge slowly into the main living space, drawing the attention of the other Avengers who had been waiting for you.

"Didn't think you'd want anything too heavy, so I made toast," Steve said, setting a plate down at the table in front of you. You smiled weakly at him, sitting down.

Natasha watched from afar. She was always concerned about you. There was never a moment she wasn’t worried. So this, this had her frantic. Not that she was showing it though.

Forcing the toast down your throat was harder than you thought, but you did it anyway to appease those around you. They had bigger problems, and you having a small case of the flu was not on par with everything else.

“Mornin’,” Tony said, stepping into the kitchen with a cold coffee mug. He dumped it in the sink before turning to the running coffee maker. “How you feeling, kiddo?” Tony asked you, waiting for the machine to fill his cup.

You dryly pushed the last of the toast down your throat and smiled up at him. “Fine,” you answered, trying to keep the croak out of your voice.

“Take it easy,” he said, exiting the kitchen with his new mug.

Everyone walked on eggshells around you for the remainder of the day. Instead of staying cooped up in your room, you instead sat on the couch in the living room. Different people made attempts throughout the day to entertain you, but for the most part they let you rest as your favorite movies played in the background.

Later in the evening, you laid on the couch between Wanda and Bucky. Your head laid in Bucky’s lap as he stroked your hair with his good arm. Wanda sat by your feet, listening to the goofy sitcoms playing on the tv when you began to shift.

“Make it stop… make it go away,” you muttered in your sleep. Both Bucky’s and Wanda’s heads snapped towards you. “Make it stop!” you yelled louder this time.

Wanda immediately went into your mind, trying to fish for what you were scared of. It came up blank.

“We need to get her to Dr. Banner,” Wanda said, standing up off the couch.

“What’s-“

“Just get her to Banner!” Wanda yelled, her eyes flashing red with anger and fear. Bucky didn’t hesitate to scoop you up quickly in his arms.

Him and Wanda raced across the compound, bursting into the lab where Tony and Bruce sat working on new tech.

“Something’s wrong!” Wanda yelled. The two men looked up, worried expressions on their face. You were still in your fitful slumber in Bucky’s arms, still mumbling nonsense under your breath.

“Bring her over here,” Bruce said, jumping up and gesturing over to the infirmary section of the lab. He had Bucky lay you down on one of the beds as he started to check your vitals. “Her fever skyrocketed and her heart rate is rising.” Tony watching from the foot of the bed as you kicked out your legs and your arms wrapped around your stomach.

“Make it stop!” you yelled. You rolled in on yourself, tucking your knees to your chest and still holding your stomach. Wanda was getting visibly more upset as time went on. Her attempts to go in your head were still coming up blank.

“What’s wrong with her, Banner?” Tony said, agitated. He hated seeing you in pain and it made him feel totally helpless.

“Not sure yet, I’m gonna give her an IV and get her hydrated in hopes it helps her fever,” he said, prepping the machine. “Can you hold her still?” he asked Bucky. Bucky nodded, moving closer to you. He pried your arms away from your stomach and pushed your legs straight. He pinned one arm against your chest and the one closest to Bruce he pushed flat against the bed.

“No! Stop!” you shrieked. Your eyes flew open and bounced around wildly. You were taking anything in. Your brain wouldn’t process anything around you, so as far as you knew. you were still in your dream. “Stop! Stop it! Let me go!” You writhed under Bucky’s hold as he did his best to keep you still without hurting you.

“This won’t work,” Bruce said. “Wanda, can you hold her?” Wanda looked up at him with teary eyes. She hated the idea of using her powers on you. “Please, I need her still.” She nodded, raising her hands up. Red ribbons of her powers flowed across your limbs as they went stiff at your sides. You screamed again.

“No! No! Please, make it stop!” you sobbed. Your voice was beginning to go hoarse from screaming. Tony finally moved from where he was standing and went up next to you. He crouched down near your head.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, gently stroaking your hair. He could feel how warm your head was. “You’re okay, everything’s okay. No one is trying to hurt you.” His gentle words seemed to calm you down even in your confused state. Your eyes still stared blankly around you and your breathing was still ragged and strained, but your screaming stopped for a moment. “That’s good, there you go.”

You flinched as Bruce put the needle in your arm after finding a vain and started to cry out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony whispered. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Your head turned to the side, looking at Tony, but not really seeing him.

“Dad?” your voice croaked out quietly. Tony stiffened. He looked into your eyes, them seemingly looking straight through him. “Dad?” you called out again. Wanda and Bucky both watched Tony for his reaction.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re okay,” he said, rubbing a small circle on your shoulder. “Everything’s okay.”

“Her oxygen levels are low,” Bruce said. “I’m gonna put her on some.” Tony brushed all the hair out of your face to make it easier for Bruce to place the tube under your nose.

“Dad, what’s going on?” you muttered, moving your head around after Bruce placed it.

“It’s nothing, kiddo,” Tony said softly. He signaled for Wanda to released you, which she did. “You’re okay now.”

“They had me again,” you mumbled. Exhaustion was starting to over take you again. “They were hurting me.”

“They can’t hurt you anymore, I promise,” he said softly. “Just go back to sleep now.”

#tony stark #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers x teen!reader #marvel #wanda x teen!reader #bucky x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader

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verybadatwriting · 10 months

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The Winged One

Summary: Bucky falls off the train, but HYDRA doesn't catch him. Someone else does.

Warnings: a fall from a great height, descriptions of fever/sickness/infection,

Notes: Uhhh. I guess you get two fics in one day after me not posting in months. I'm open to doing a part 2, if anybody wants that. Reader is a person, but with wings. (They're an Inhuman, which are kinda like the Mutants) Part 2 is out now! :D

Gn!reader

Word Count: 2,765

A train passed by somewhere far overhead. It almost didn’t warrant note, since it happened fairly often. The white of your wings concealed you perfectly in the snowy landscape. You continued walking when all of a sudden you heard an impact somewhere off to your left. Interested, you picked your way through the low shrubbery in that direction.

There, lying on the cold ground, was a man. His whole left arm was all crushed, and he wasn’t conscious. You knelt next to him, and was surprised to discover that his heart was still beating. Unslinging your bag from your shoulder, you tore off the strap and fastened it into a tourniquet around the small bit of arm left. You straightened up as you finished, and started to figure out what to do with him.

One fear you had was that he could be a Snake Worshiper. Those foul men had been stinking up the area; forcing train tracks into the landscape, scaring off the animals, and crafting forts and encampments into the woods you once hunted in.

While thinking, you triaged the man. If you decided to help him, you’d need to know what you’re getting yourself into. His left arm was mostly gone, and the rest of his body was littered with bumps and scrapes. There was a fracture in his collarbone, and one particular bruise on his forehead had you worried that he may have a concussion.

Then his eyes opened.

“Who are,” He began, but the pain hit him and he gasped. You’d been around the surrounding military bases enough to hear the ways the Snake Worshipers talked, and this was not it. They spoke with harsher consonants and longer words.

“I am here to assist you.” You said, wishing that you had paid closer attention to this language’s flow. You had some key part of the rhythm off, and it seemed to take the man a few seconds to figure out what you meant. Once he comprehended that you weren’t going to hurt him, he seemed to relax, just a little bit.

Snow began to fall again, and you knew time was ticking. If you were going to save this guy, you would have to do something now. You pulled his remaining arm around your shoulders, and began to walk, half dragging him along. He tried his darndest to help, but it still wasn’t easy going.

A few paces away from your hovel in the side of a hill, he completely gave out and he tumbled to the ground. The snow was really falling now as you grabbed him and dragged with all your might. You opened the door, dragged him inside, and shut it behind you. After you got a fire going, you rolled him near it, and collapsed into bed. You’d deal with him tomorrow.

It was not long after sunrise when you awoke. You went just outside the door and dug a pot of soup out from under the thick layer of snow. It was fully frozen, so you smashed off two sizable chunks. You left the rest of it in the pot outside, and brought the chunks in with you to melt over the fire.

At some point you became aware that the man was conscious and observing you. You continued on as normal, and dished out the now-hot soup into two bowls. Turning, you set them on the floor between the two of you, and passed him a spoon.

But when he tried to sit up, he found that his left arm failed to push off from the ground. He glanced down and dropped the spoon. Horror spread across his face as he stared at the empty spot where his arm used to be. His eyes turned to you.

“The fall.” You tried to explain using the man’s language,“Falling.”

“Oh.” He said. He adjusted, and managed to lean against the bed next to him. Looking around, he took in the room for the first time.

The walls were made of dirt, the bed had a thick quilt, and he was lying on one as well. There was a shoddily made wicker chair in one corner, and a heavy door with a mat rolled up against the cracks to keep the cold from seeping in. Nothing was level or smooth. It was like it had been made by a very inexperienced craftsman. The room was dark, but would have been pitchblack if not for the roaring fire. The room was small enough that one hearth was enough to warm the whole place.

He then looked at you, and you stared back. You were an unkempt, wild looking teen with two giant wings, eating soup out of a homemade bowl and beckoning for him to do the same. He picked up his spoon and began to eat. He found he was insanely hungry, and devoured it.

Seeing that he’d finished his serving, you took his dish and rose to grab him another from the pot out in the snow.

“Wait,” He said, “Kid, where are you going?” But you didn’t understand his words, so you continued on and opened the door. A cold wall of air flooded the room as you left. The man shivered and pulled the blanket closer around him.

When you came back inside carrying a pot, and set it on the fire, he seemed to understand. After he’d eaten his fill, the pot was empty. It was meant to last you a few more days, but that didn’t really matter. One less man was dead. On that note, you needed to figure out who this guy was.

“I am,” You said, pointing to yourself, “Y/n.”

The man paused for a second, then pointed at you and repeated your name. You nodded. Then he motioned to himself.

“Bucky.”

The next morning, he was well enough to walk, and so he followed you all around and helped with the basic chores of your days. Foraging, checking traps, repairing old things, really anything that was needed.

After a day or two of trying to figure each other's language out, Bucky seemed to pick the basics of yours and vice versa. When you added this to a little bit of the Snake Worshiper’s language – Which Bucky told you was German – you’d created a strange mash of language.

As you showed him how to make a hare trap, he inquired about the elephant in the room.

“How did you get those wings?” He asked, “Were you born with them or…?”

“Oh.” You inhaled, “I don’t really remember the story that goes along with them, nor do I like to remember it. All I know is I was born a normal person, then touched a strange rock and was cocooned in it for hours, and when I emerged I had these.

“My mother was concerned, so she brought me to the town’s cleric, who decided it was best if I was left in the woods for nature to reclaim, since I was obviously cursed. My mother didn’t much like that idea, but she had to go along with it. She sent me out here with the barebones supplies I’d need to survive.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky said, “How have you been out here alone?”

“Five winters, give or take.” You replied, “What about you? How did you come to fall from a Snake Worshiper’s train into this valley?”

“Steve – he's the friend I told you about – Gabe Jones, and I were trying to stop some mad scientist who was on the train. It didn’t go too well.”

“I know.”

“I've been meaning to ask you,” He said, “Do you think it's possible that you could help me get back to my camp?”

“Maybe…” You said, “Let's finish this trap and then I'll show you something.”

“Here it is.” You said, opening a small box you kept on the least crooked shelf. You pulled out an old, faded piece of paper. It was rough around the edges.

“I’ve been mapping out the actions of any newcomers to the area,” You said, pointing to specific parts of the paper, “Here is where I think your camp is. This thick line is the train tracks. And over in this dark splotch is a Snake Worshiper base.”

“Snake Worshiper… the ones that speak German?” Bucky asked. You nodded.

“Okay. Where are we on here?” Bucky asked.

“Well…” You sighed, “That's the problem. We're all the way over here.” You poked a spot worryingly close to the Snake Worshiper's base. “And your people's camp is all the way over yonder. It's as far as I've mapped, since I don't have much paper.”

“How long did it take you to map all this?” Bucky asked.

“It only took me a day's journey to get from home to the – what did you call them? Allies? – base. Sadly for you, I was flying. On foot, that would take close to three days.”

“Should we start preparing for the trip?”

“Of course.”

Hunting, fishing, gathering, even some sewing, was required to prepare. The work went by faster when you had a helping hand, and it gave Bucky a chance to learn how to navigate life with only a single arm.

Everything was almost ready, and you could probably leave in a day or two, but that evening, as you were unwrapping the area where his arm used to be, you noticed it looked strange and had an unpleasant smell.

“Well…” You said, after cleaning the wound, “I think it’s infected. I know some herbs that could help, but it’s a bad one.”

“It was normal this morning.” Bucky said in awe.

“That just means it’s moving fast.”

“How bad is it?”

“I don’t think you’ll survive unless your people have some way of fixing this.”

“Oh.”

“Our objective doesn’t change, just the degree of urgency.” You said, “We’ve still got to get you back as soon as possible. If it gets worse on the trip, we just have to push through it.”

The next morning, you two were out the door as the sun rose. You had enough food and water to last for the trip, and a sack of herbs that could lessen the infection’s power. He took one dose in the morning.

That first day of travel was brutal, but not the worst. Occasionally, you’d fly ahead to ensure your navigation was correct. Aside from that, you two walked side by side and talked. It was mostly you asking about his people and his base.

“What’s the food like?”

“It’s not great out here,” He said, “But that’s just because of the war.”

“So there was a time before?”

“Of course!” His face lit up a little as he remembered, and started rambling. “We’d have things like fresh bread, pies, chicken, and meatloaf. Sometimes, as a treat, we’d have pancakes for breakfast. Those were the best days…”

The conversation went on, but over the course of the day his energy decreased and his words became jumbled. His pace slowed, and by the time the sun started to dip beneath the trees, he was barely trudging along.

As you set up a fire, Bucky was trying to string two hammocks between trees. Eventually, you just told him to sit by the fire and hung them by yourself. You cooked, and then shared a meal with him. He was crashing, fast. To try and combat it, you gave him tea brewed from the herbs, and told him to sleep.

The next morning you packed up the camp, all besides Bucky and his hammock. When you went to wake him he woke up and started incoherently murmuring. He was burning up, sweating, and shivering– definitely in no condition to complete the journey. But you knew if he didn’t make it to his people’s base he wouldn’t make it anywhere.

You wouldn't help him survive this long just to die of an infection in the icy forest. He didn’t survive the fall just for a few days of misery. He didn’t walk a whole day for this. He didn’t learn a whole new language for this. He couldn’t die today.

So you came up with a plan. After gathering some thin but sturdy strips of wood, you tied them together with strips of your hammock. With a lot of work, you managed to fashion a sort of sled. It had ropes at the front you could pull it from, and a spot for Bucky to lie on top of the bags.

Carefully, you maneuvered the sled underneath his hammock, and loosened the ropes securing him. He slid down and landed right where he was meant to. He awoke slightly, and looked very confused.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You said, “We’re gonna get you home.”

He seemed to calm down after that. You looped the strap across yourself, and started to pull Bucky across the snow-covered landscape. You swept across the snow, and you barely stopped around noon for a swig of water, to get a bite to eat, and to check on Bucky. He was disoriented, so it took a bit of convincing to get him to drink a few sips of water.

It wasn’t horrible, that first day pulling the sled. Once the sun started to set, you contemplated stopping and sleeping. The pitch darkness surrounded you, so you lit a torch. Shadows flickered at the edges of the light, sometimes looking like a pair of eyes. You wedged the torch into a crack in the ground, to keep it upright while you slept.

You sat Bucky up, and gave him some more water. You wrapped him in as many blankets as you had, then sat at his feet on the edge of the sled. It was deathly cold, but you’d been through this before. During the first few nights after the Cleric had cast you out, you’d figured out that you could tuck your knees to your chest and shield yourself from the cold with your wings.

About halfway through the night you were awoken by a gagging sound. Turns out, Bucky’s infection had gotten worse, his fever raged on, and he was now heaving up the few sips of water he’d had. You sat him up and turned him so he would throw up into the snow, and not choke.

After you were reasonably sure he was done, you decided to continue onwards, despite the night. You grabbed the now long extinguished torch and pushed off the ground into the sky to see if you recognized anything.

Far ahead, there was a river. If you moved fast, you could probably reach it by dawn. Then you could stop for a bit, refill water and such. You enjoyed the air swirling around you, making you feel weightless. But you knew you had to descend sooner or later. You dipped your wings, and glided downwards. To combat the forward motion, you angled them to swoop in a slow spiral.

Landing softly, you checked on Bucky once again. His arm was much worse. You cleaned it, applied more herbs, and wrapped it back up. It looked quite painful, and you could only hope that he couldn’t feel it through his feverish sleep.

All day was spent sprinting through the forest. Night fell, and you could tell you were drawing close to the Allied base. The shrubs were growing sparse, and the smells of humanity wafted through the air. Right when the camp was in view, you stopped. Shrouded in darkness and trees, you unhooked yourself from the sled.

Taking one loop of Bucky’s hammock in each hand, you rose steeply into the air. From above, the camp seemed like a maze of tents. You searched for a symbol of a red ‘x’ on its side, which Bucky had told you was the doctor’s emblem. After spying a tent bearing the sign, you awkwardly descended to the ground.

You untangled Bucky from the hammock, and balled it up. He hadn’t gained consciousness all day. His only hope was the doctors here.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you knelt next to him.

“Goodbye.” You whispered, “Thank you for being my friend.” You took a large stick and banged it against the metal pole of the tent to draw attention to him before you flew away. As you soared into the woods, you glanced back. People streamed over, and you could barely see them taking Bucky into the tent.

After bringing the sled deeper into the woods, you set off for home.

Part 2

#marvel #writing #fan fic #bucky x teen! reader #bucky barns x teen!reader #teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader #avengers x teen!reader #bucky x teen!reader #gn!reader

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lillysstars · 27 days

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Penny, hanging off of Bucky’s arm like he’s a jungle gym: Hi Mr.Stark!

Tony: hey, ki-what are you doing??

Bucky: Hi.

#original character #female peter parker #avengers x teen!reader #bucky x teen!reader #fem! peter parker

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bisexuawolfsalt · 8 months

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anybody have some good Father!Bucky fics?

#bucky barnes #Father!Bucky #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x teen!reader #bucky fluff #bucky x teenager hydra assassin #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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m-writes-stories · 1 year

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Hold My Girl

Based off the song Hold my Girl by George Ezra

Warnings: talks about suicide, feeding tube, and anxiety

You waved goodbye to your Dad as he started to fly away in the Quinjet. He told you about this mission two nights ago. But you only remember that it could take more than 6 months. That would be the longest you have been away from each other. You were terrified you have bad anxiety that comes with him leaving for missions. You normally shut down, and don’t talk, but the worst part is you don’t eat unless forced. The last time your dad went on a long mission it was 2 months and Steve and Natasha took you to the lab with Bruce and he put a feeding tube in. When your dad came back he was furious with you. You knew that this mission would hit you hard. How hard? You didn’t know.

*****TIME SKIP 6 MONTHS****

You had been in the lab on a feeding tube for almost five months. This mission has almost killed you. You tried to end it about 6 weeks in when Steve lost comms with your dad. Then a week later you tried again when the tracking device Bruce put in your dad went dead. You lost it. Now almost 6 months later everyone said it was a low chance he came home. You knew that. Which is why you pulled out your feeding tube and locked yourself in your bedroom. You were done. You couldn’t live without your dad.

“Baby, you have to open up. It’s gonna be ok,” you heard Natasha say outside your bedroom.

“I can’t live without him, Nat,” you said sobbing.

“He’ll be ok, he’s gonna come home and be ok. Open the door please, dorogoy,” Nat said.

You slowly got up from your place on the floor. Feeling weak, you slowly opened the door.

“He’s not coming home, we both know that,” you said, falling into her arms. Nat lowered both of you to the floor.

“He could, we don’t know,” she said.

You don’t know how long you were on the floor. But when you woke up next you were in your dad’s bed, the feeding tube back in. You rolled onto your side seeing Natasha next to you. You heard footsteps. They were loud, heavy, and coming fast. The door slammed open, and coming in was Steve. Natasha sat up instantly.

“The Quinjet is on its way back. I thought you would want to know in case,” he said, looking directly at you. You started to pull the feeding tube out before a hand grabbed your wrist.

“No, dorogoy,” she said, “you need it.”

“I don’t want it. He could be coming home. I don't need the first thing he sees to be the feeding tube,” you said pushing her hand off your wrist. You finished pulling it out before you walked over to your dad’s closet, opening the door, and grabbing your favorite hoodie. You walked through the door joining your’s and your dad’s rooms. You threw on some shoes and socks and practically ran for the landing pad. After about 5 minutes you could see the Quinjet coming over the trees. You started to cry. It started to land, you were sobbing at this point and the most anxious you’ve ever been. Once it landed the door opened. You waited and waited. It felt like you had been waiting for a lifetime. Finally, you saw him walk down the stairs. Once he saw you he ran. Ran straight for you. He engulfed you in his arms. Bruce had been insisting that he go to the lab immediately to be checked out.

“Give me a minute to hold my girl,” your dad said. You were sobbing and you didn’t care. After about 5 minutes he slowly got up pulling you with him. He started to walk inside and towards the lab. Everyone followed. Once at the lab he sat on the table. You sat right next to him.

“Bucky, I really need her to move so I can check everything out on you,” Bruce said.

“She’s not moving. So either you work around her or I’ll go upstairs to my room so I can shower and then cuddle with my daughter as we watch dumb movies,” your dad said. He started to get up.

“Ok, I’ll work around her. But you need to stay here,” Bruce said.

After about 30 minutes of exams and tests, your dad was free to go. You both walked out of the lab and to your dad’s room. You lay in his bed as he went and got ready to shower. He came out around 5 minutes later. He came and laid with you. You lay there watching dumb movies in silence until your dad finally spoke up.

“So did you eat?” he asked.

“Solid or liquid food?” you mumble thinking he wouldn’t hear you.

“Excuse me?” he said, slightly yelling.

“Nothing,” you said.

“How long have you been on a feeding tube?” he asked.

“Since week 6 of you being gone,” you said.

“Doll, we have talked about this. You have to eat when I am gone.”

“I can’t dad. Your comms went out and I got scared. Then your tracker went dead–,” you said.

“I pulled it out. I was being followed so I was scared that Hydra could track me as well as you guys could,” he said, cutting you off, “but you need to eat. I am very good at my job and I don’t want to have to stop going on missions. But you can’t keep not eating while I am gone.”

“But I don’t want you going. I want you to stay home every single time you leave. But then you know me, my anxiety gets racing and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop myself from thinking the worst. Then I get in my head and forget to do anything else like eating,” you said, running out of breath.

“Doll, I think it is time to see a therapist. I know you said you didn’t want to, but I think it is time. You can’t keep doing this. It’s not safe. I’ll take some time away from missions to spend time with you. But eventually, I have to go back to leaving,” he said, “now let’s go to sleep. I'm very tired and I know you don’t sleep well without me here.”

You fell asleep not long after. Throughout the night your breathing started picking up. You started sweating. Your dad noticed. You started screaming.

“Doll, wake up sweetheart,” he said. Natasha ran into the room.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, “come on doll. Come one, wake up.”

You sat up. Still breathing hard and sobbing. Your dad grabbed you and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. Shhh,” he said, softly in your ear.

You slowly calmed down and your breathing slowed. You looked over at Natasha, who was still in the room. You slowly pulled away from your dad and made grabby hands at Natasha. She came and sat by you. She wrapped an arm around you as you fell back into your dad’s arms. Your dad slowly pulled you back down to the mattress. Natasha on one side of you your dad on the other.

#bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x teen!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns imagine

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marvelflame2010 · 10 months

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Bucky: Who hurt you?

Y/n with a black eye: Pft, you want a list?

Bucky going into over-protective dad mode: Yes, actually.

#incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect avengers #avengers incorrect quotes #incorrect avengers quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect #incorrect bucky quotes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x teen!reader #bucky x teen reader #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #incorrect bucky barnes #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x ex hydra teenager #bucky x ex assassin teenager

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firegal19 · 1 year

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Y/n: The gas immunizes the brain’s neuropathways from external manipulation

Bucky: English please kid

Y/n in Russian: It’s an antidote to mind control

Bucky also in Russian: Real mature

#bucky barnes #incorrect marvel quotes #bucky barnes daughter #bucky x teen!reader #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #incorrect avengers #avengers incorrect quotes #bucky barnes x teen!reader #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect bucky barnes #incorrect bucky quotes #incorrect marvel #incorrect marvel cinematic universe #source: black widow

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thursdaywritings · 2 years

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Social Media Blues

Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader

A/N: hello y’all this is like my first ever fic so pls do not judge me too harshly </3

Request: hi could you do bucky barnes x daughter!reader where he accidentally finds out that she is gay and maybe different pronouns? like he finds her social media and it kind of outs her i don’t know haha. maybe some angst but then fluff at the end?? ty and happy holidays!

Warnings; being outed & not being accepted, homophobia, but fluff at the end dw

Word Count; 2.1k

Coming out was never something you had an immense urge to do, you were content being closeted. Growing up as a lesbian in the 40s was rough, even decades later the fear and trauma you faced towered over you, eating you alive daily.

As you adjusted to the 21st century, you were set up with social media accounts. Most public, but you had private accounts for the closest of your circle. Which is where you met your girlfriend of eight months, nine next Tuesday, but who’s counting? You had finally gotten together after months of commenting jokingly flirtatious words on each other's Instagram posts. It wasn’t a surprise to your mutual friends when you got together, lightheartedly rolling their eyes as they commented various forms of “finally!” on your private relationship debut. But, it would be a surprise to everyone else in your life. Most importantly, your father Bucky Barnes, and your not-by-blood uncle, Steve Rogers. Thinking about it too much made your stomach like, clench up, and the feelings of spinning nausea wash over you.

It was now the middle of June. Wincing as you turned on the blinding light of your phone while laying in bed late into the night because let’s be real here, you had no clue what “dark mode” is. Opening your photo gallery, smiling as you swipe through the abundance of images taken of your girlfriend & you at yesterday’s sunset date. On a whim, you decide to change your profile picture to an almost, silhouette-esque photo of you & your girlfriend kissing. Noticing the new pronoun feature, you decide to add those as well. You could feel your heartbeat race as you hit the “done” button and excitedly spam your girlfriend with the news, falling asleep with a smile on your face minutes later.

3 am rolls around, your father & uncle heading up to the shared apartment floor after a grueling mission, snapping back into reality when the elevator dings. They go their separate ways with a small nod, and Bucky ever so softly opens your door to check in on you. The first night he got you back a couple of years ago, you could have sworn you heard the door open at least 30 times throughout the night. Seeing you safe & sleeping, he haphazardly unloads his baggage in his room and flops down on the couch. The soft buzz of the TV is the only sound to be heard that late, and he mindlessly flips through several different channels before sighing and giving up. He never used his phone much, as to him, there was no need besides the occasional text to you or Steve. Maybe even Sam, granted they weren’t in a petty fight. He taps on Instagram, furrowing his brows as he comes across an account in his recommended with a profile picture that looks strangely like you. His daughter. Kissing someone, another girl. A girl you had never brought around him, but with Bucky being Bucky, he knew who she was. His breath hitches as his eyes frantically scan the little information your account provides, nothin’ but a short bio, the profile picture, and what he learned to be pronouns. His face scrunches up in confusion as he realizes your pronouns aren’t well, typical.

He shuts his phone off and faces it flat down beside him on the couch. He runs his hands through his hair while trying to process all of this new information. How could his baby girl be a lesbian? I mean, he was the last guy to be homophobic, or anything of that sort, but being a man of the 40s he still had the occasional old thoughts. He had assumed you dead for decades before you were found, hoping you had married the guy of your dreams and had kids, maybe even grandkids. His teammates constantly teased him about how he was going to have to deal with boys takin’ ya out soon. This is not what he had hoped for, or thought, not at all.

He doesn’t sleep that night. Your alarm blares at 6 am, rolling over to slam it off. Begrudgingly, you make your way out of your room to the kitchen, finding Steve already eating breakfast at the bar. He looks up to give you a friendly smile before quickly getting back to his food. “Have you seen dad?” you question, as he was usually up way before 6. Swallowing quickly Steve answers “Uh. No, actually. We did get back, quite late though. Could still be sleepin’. Ya know how he is.” You really didn’t know what Steve meant, but you nod anyway and sit down as Steve is getting up. Checking the time, he gives you a quick side hug and heads to training after cleaning up.

Hearing the elevator close, Bucky makes his way out of his room, refusing to meet your concerned eyes for several minutes. “Hellloo? How was the mission?” you say for the second time. He looks up and mumbles a quick, incomprehensible response under his breath. Guess he wasn’t in a talking mood, you thought before rinsing your bowl under the sink. You could feel the thick tension in the room and you didn’t understand why. Deciding to get out of the tower for the day to escape it, you quietly turn to go towards your room. “Wait.”, the unmistakable voice of your father harshly states. “Sit down, please.” Nervously you slide a chair out across from him and sit waiting for whatever bomb he’s about to drop on you. Fumbling with his phone, he pulls up your not-so-secret profile and slides it over to you. “Can you..explain to me this?”

You gaze bewilderedly at the profile picture as if it was staring back just mocking you. Even though your eyes are clearly welling with thick tears, you try to play it cool, and frantically think of a B.S excuse along the lines of “Ohhhhh. That’s a like, really really old private account I made. Completely forgot about it. You know how like, the media and uh. Public get, just wanted a place I could not have to worry about all..that?” He looks up at you unimpressed. He’s old, not stupid.

“Are you..gay? What’s with the..kissing?” he manages to choke out in a repulsed tone. You stare down at the table, transfixed in studying the diverse patterns and grain in an attempt to focus on something, anything other than the fact that your life is crashing around you. You know there's no getting out of it, this wasn’t how you had planned this going at all. There was no plan in the first place. Tears are spilling down your face and yet, he’s still staring blankly at you. “I...I’m a lesbian. I’m sorry. I...I don’t know.” you mumble out in a haze, your head in your hands. Bucky pushes himself back, stumbling out of his chair to pace in endless circles around the kitchen. You watch him through your fingers as your heart sinks further and further down. Sobs wrack through your body as you desperately spew every built-up thought out “This..this is exactly why I didn’t tell you! I knew you would react like this. I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it, but you proved me right once again. Do you know how hard this has been for me..for years! Years, dad. I’m sorry. I tried so hard to “fix” myself so it wouldn’t come down to this, I never wanted you to find out.” He watched you quietly as you briskly walked away from the scene of the near murder, attempting to slow your exceedingly accelerated heartbeat.

The lighting dims and you have yourself still locked in your room, not being able to bare facing him again. It’s now 11 pm, laying half-asleep in your bed until you hear a faint knock at your door. “Just..go please.” The golden round doorknob jiggles and you groan in annoyance as it opens. “Don’t worry, it’s just me. Buck’s not around.” your favorite (and only) uncle softly says. You nod and feel the corner of your bed dip down as Steve sits down

“My opinion? I think he’s a total dick for all that. Don’t tell anyone I said that, but it’s true.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the curse word Steve just dropped. “I didn’t really plan what I was going to say, but I’m proud-a ya, kid. This...It doesn’t change my opinions towards you, not even in the slightest. I’m sorry for what he did, you don’t deserve this.” he rants. “Thank you, Steve. It’s nice to know that Captain America has my back.” you tease. “‘Course’. Would really love to meet this girl of yours sometime though. Swing her around whenever you two are comfortable.” he smiles and pats your knee as he gets up to leave. The heavy sound of your door shutting once more rings through your ears, and you close your eyes once more.

Of course, as you are peacefully lulling off to sleep yet another soft rapping of knuckles on the doorframe sets off a hoard of butterflies in your stomach. The door partially cracks open once more, followed by the soft voice of your father “Could we talk?”. A wave of dread rushes over you, unknown if this was the end. The end of movie nights, ordering in greasy take out, directly against the suggestions of Steve. The end of shushing eachothers boisterous laughter when trying to hide after pranks. The end of your relationship, the one you just got back into your grasps. After a bout of silence, he feels compelled to enter regardless. He’s prepared a speech, but his mind goes blank as he examines your visibly frightened body language. His heart pangs, knowing he’s the one who put you in this position, something he promised to never do.

“You..you know I’m not good at these things. That’s..that’s...not an excuse.” he says, breaking the tranquilent silence. Shifting uncomfortably in your bed, you prop yourself up to get a proper view of him. Getting down on his knees at the side of your bed, he continues “I love you. I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you. The way I reacted, it was shitty. Selfish. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you…but all I could think about was myself. I know that’s not how I should have reacted at all, and I’m really sorry, doll. I was..scared? Worried?”

His own eyes now are filled with tears, as he lightly grips your bedsheets. “I know how..gay people were treated back then, even now.. and I didn’t want you to face that. I guess I thought that by trying to deny it, you would be safe. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me, all I’ve ever wanted was your happiness.” Now sitting up, your face twists in deliberation, eyes flicking back and forth desperately scanning his face for any sign of dishonesty. You didn’t expect this, not in the slightest. Taking in his words, your mind is racing with every possible response, feeling overwhelmed. You gulp and nod, mumbling out a small “I- I understand. I mean..obviously I know how it was back then. It still affects me today. I know nowadays it’s a lot more accepted…but the guilt like, consumes me everyday. Especially with us being so much in the public eye, I didn’t well, want to embarrass anybody if it got out.”

“You could never embarrass me doll, especially with something like this. I mean, have you SEEN my reputation? Anyways, seriously, do you have a girl? Because really! Love to meet her sometime. What’s her name? How did you guys meet? She treat you right? You treat her right?” jokingly rapid firing questions at you as you giggle with each one. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to sleep. ‘Night.” he says softly, giving you a bear hug before exiting your room. For the first time in decades, you sleep like a feather, one of the biggest weights you were bearing finally hoisted off your shoulders.

#marvel #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky x daughter!reader #dad!bucky #bucky x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #lesbian!reader #teen!reader #daughter!reader #avengers #x reader #x teen!reader #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #lesbian #writing #send me requests

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moiravim · 1 year

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Mob!Dad!Bucky x teen!YN

Summary: Bucky is your dad. Even though he's a mob boss, he makes sure your safe no matter what.

You woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't fall asleep so you walked out to find your dad. You frowned as you saw your uncle Steve sitting at the counter. He only stayed on you and your dad's floor when Bucky was working.

"Hey kid... Trouble sleeping?" He asks as he gives you a sad smile. You nod. "I want my dad..."

He sighs before grabbing your hand and walking you to the couch. He pulls you into his side as the two of you cuddle into the couch.

He put on your favorite movie and you fell asleep with your head in his lap.

You woke up to your dad, Bucky carrying you to you bed. "Dad!" You shouted as you jumped up to hug him.

He chuckles before adjusting you so that he could hug you back. "I missed you." He says as he placed you on the bed and pulled out a small box from his pocket.

He opens it and presents a beautiful crystal bracelet with a heart charm in the middle.

"A lot happened last night... But everything will be okay. This bracelet has a tracking device in it. It will help me keep you safe. Just never take it off." He says with a serious tone.

You nod as he helps you put it on your wrist. "Thank you dad. It's beautiful. And... thank you for keeping me safe." His serious face turns into a smile.

"Come on sweetie, it's about time you get some fresh air. How about we go to the park?" You nod before you get up to start getting dressed.

You never really got to leave your dad's property, even the park was owned by him. But that's how you both liked it. It felt safe.

Sam, your bodyguard and Bucky's best friend was already waiting for the two of you to get ready so he could walk you to the park.

As you, your dad, and Sam walked to the park you saw all the extra guards and started to become nervous.

You stood closer to your dad and held his hand. He looked down at you and when he saw how nervous you were he drew shapes on your hand with his thumb.

"Everything's alright, sweetie. They're just there in case. I won't let anything happen to you." Bucky says, reassuringly.

The two of you walk the park until sundown and go home to rest. He tucks you in bed and kisses your forehead before going to his office to get some work done.

Bucky will keep you safe no matter what. He just wishes you knew that.

#marvel x reader #yandere bucky barnes #yandere marvel #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #dad bucky x reader #bucky x teen!reader #overprotective bucky barnes #bucky barnes x teen!reader #marvel dads

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kiritella · 1 year

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Red as Iron [Pt. II]

Pairings: Dad.Bucky x Daughter.Reader

Warnings: Hospitals

Words: 1.0k~

Type: Angsty

______________________

Cold. Iron. Plummeting into a frozen lake, bathed in the water that would bring death upon him. Bucky gasped for breath but it didn’t alleviate the agonizing wrenching in his chest. He ran. His lungs raged for more than air. Answers. Who? Why? He stopped only when he reached the information desk in the emergency room.

“Y.n Barnes—she’s sixteen,” he said quickly, “Brought in— the officer said—”

The nurse nodded, typing away on her computer. “Relation to the patient?”

“Father—Please, is she okay?”

“I’m sorry, but do you have an ID on you so I can confirm?”

Bucky groaned, fumbling for his wallet in his back pocket. He slid his ID onto the counter toward her, and after another agonizing minute, she nodded with a gentle frown and looked up from her computer. She handed him back his ID.

“I’m afraid all I know is that Ms. Barnes was in critical condition when she arrived, but she has been taken back into surgery.”

“Critical condition—Surgery?!” he asked, shaking his head. “What happened?”

“Brooklyn fire department brought her in less than an hour ago, but other than that, I am afraid I don’t know…” she said apologetically. “The doctor will come out and let you know her condition when he is able to. You are free to wait in the waiting room.”

“Isn’t there anything you can tell me?!” he asked, desperately leaning over the counter between them.

She shook her head. “I wish there was, but the only things I know are what is put into the computer.”

Bucky sighed, hanging his head as he pushed himself off the desk and backed away. He couldn’t breathe. Finding a seat in that forsaken place, he sat down and realized just how much effort it had taken just to stand. He leaned forward as a waft of cold air blew over him, resting his head in his hands. He choked on the breaths carving in and out of his lungs. Less than an hour ago. He was on the phone with her just a little while ago. She was—

~~~

The police had found Bucky in the waiting room an hour later. They were only able to give him the basics of what they found. Burglary gone wrong. Y.n called 911 at 3:57 pm. She said she had come home from school and found someone in their home. Things had escalated, and she was stabbed twice. The Brooklyn fire department EMT was on the scene before the PD, but only barely. She was unconscious by the time they arrived and the burglar was gone. They were investigating the scene and getting the video footage from the apartment complex. With a bit of luck, something should come up. They asked him question after question until his mind was going numb with frustration. When at last they finished, they had advised him to stay with a friend, but he had shaken his head, and they left him in peace.

He stared at his phone screen now, looking at the numbers displayed in front of him with disbelief. He thought something was off at first, maybe the police had it wrong, but it slowly sank into his chest.

Recent calls: Y.n Barnes, 4:00 pm.

4:00 pm. She had called him, his sixteen year old daughter, his baby, had called him, bleeding out in their home, afraid. She had called him and told him she loved him, and that he was an amazing father. His lips trembled as a knot swelled in his throat. His phone screen blurred as Y.no’s voice called out to him louder than the chaos of the hospital he was imprisoned in.

“Can’t I just call my dad and tell him I love him?”

He took a sharp breath and shook his head. He should have known. He should have heard it in her voice, in her breathing. He should have known something wasn’t right.

“I’m really lucky you’re my dad. I love you.”

He jumped out of the chair and hurried out of the room. He found a nearby stairwell and shoved open the door, stepping quickly down a set of stairs until he found himself on one of the platforms between levels. He paced back and forth, hand tangling in his hair.

“I just love you, I guess…and I wanted you to know that.”

His hand met the wall, his chest heaved. He leaned against the wall, hands pressed into the plaster as he tried to fathom what he begged to be a nightmare. He wanted to wake up. Dear God, let him wake up.

“I love you too, dad.”

Bucky grit his teeth, hands balling into fists as his heart bore the knife that cut him open. He hung up on her. Why did he hang up? She was bleeding out. Tears began to slip down his cheeks. She’s in critical condition.

“...Goodbye.”

He strangled out a cry as the realization hit him, harsh and ugly, raw as it ripped from his throat. She was saying goodbye. She had called him to say goodbye.

“Oh, God, Baby, don’t do this to me…” he choked. “Please, Babygirl.”

~~~

It took most of his will to remove himself from that stairwell. To crawl back to the waiting room and sit and wait. It took all his strength to remain sane. He wasn’t used to this. This maddening fear. He’d looked down the barrel of a gun, lost the woman he thought he’d see forever with, feared from the moment Y.n was born that he would do something wrong, but it all seemed so little compared to this moment. This was all consuming, rabid. It wouldn’t let him sit still, and he was at the end of his wits with everyone and everything. He couldn’t calm himself.

It took until he was on the verge of snapping before a doctor entered the room and cleared his throat.

“Is there a…Mr. Barnes?” he called and Bucky had never risen to his feet quicker. The doctor motioned him to follow, and Bucky hurried to his side.

“Your daughter is doing well,” he said and a breath of air filled Bucky’s lungs so sharply he had to steady himself against the wall. The doctor continued, “She sustained two stab wounds, one to the left lung which had pierced the diaphragm, and the other to the liver. We were able to mend the damage, stabilize her, and she is in recovery now, waking up from the anesthesia. I can take you to see her.”

“Thank you,” was the only thing Bucky could think to say. And with it, he followed the doctor to the patient recovery ward and to Y.n’s room. He couldn’t seem to get there fast enough, but when he got to the door and the doctor left him, he could barely take a step towards her bed. She was still, but breathing softly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. There was an IV stuck in her arm, an arm that was now bruised. The trails of purple had crept up her arm, and another bruise blossomed on her cheek just below her right eye. The twisting in his chest eased now that he was there beside her, but slowly following behind it was a burning flame. It ate away at him until it ignited a wildfire. His fists curled into his hands until his nails bit his skin.

He eased his way to her bedside and gently sat on the edge of the mattress. His fingers slipped into her cold ones, and his brows furrowed as he squeezed them tightly. She always hated when her fingers got cold. He pressed her hand in his to let the warmth sink into her own hand. Leaning over, he let his free hand caress the side of her face, over the bruise, as he kissed her forehead, eyes squeezed closed. Gently, he kissed over the bruise as well.

If the cops didn’t find whoever did this soon, he would find them himself. The cops would never solve the case until they dove into the depths of the ocean, dragging his body up in pieces, each weighed down to the ocean floor in cement. They’d each be broken in several places. Natasha would help him do it.

When he opened his eyes again, they held the sparks erupting from struck red-hot iron. Determination burned in the well of his chest, braced in the armor of his ribs. Be them of a prison cell or the red iron gates of hell, he would ensure whoever did this would see bars.

________________________________

part 3

——————————————————

Forever Tags: [Open!]

@bugsbucky @thelovelydreamer17

Red as Iron Tags: [Open!]

(Just adding the ones who wanted the second part here for this one! I can’t access my taglist file at the moment, so I’m sorry if I missed anyone!)

@thebookofyouandi @givemylovetoall @elite4cekalyma @bucky-boo-bear @urdad-hot @canthavetoomuchcoffee

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janesociety · 1 year

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daddy issues, pt ii

tony stark x teen!reader

type: angst, hurt/comfort (?)

summary: you aren’t getting better- tony knows it, you know it, and so does everyone else.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of death and dying. reader is very sick. medical procedures like surgery and an iv.

pt i

marvel masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

You were getting better. That’s what Tony had kept telling you, at least.

You weren’t all that convinced.

You woke up almost a whole day later with Tony’s hand in yours. He was always softer with you than other people, but not like this. He rarely left your side the entire time you were out, and once you woke up, he still seemed to check in on you regularly- sometimes for hours at a time.

Bruce eventually took you off the oxygen, but the IV remained in your arm- much to your dismay. He kept running tests, everything he tried coming up blank, but he wasn’t going to stop until you were better.

“You don’t have to sit in here all day and watch me sleep,” you spoke up one day as you groggily rolled onto your side. Tony set the book he was reading off to the side. “I won’t wither away just because you’re not here.”

“Oh, please, we all know you’d burn the place down if we left you alone long enough,” Tony said, adjusting his position in the plastic chair he was sitting in. “That’s why we had to put your room next to Steve’s- popsicles don’t burn, they melt.” You couldn’t help the laugh that flowed from your lips at the lame joke. Even if it was followed by a small coughing fit. “Take it easy, kiddo,” Tony said, scooting closer to your bed. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

You gave a small head nod in response, suddenly feeling weaker than before. Tony leaned back in his seat, picking his book back up.

“Tony?” you asked. He hummed in response. “Am I dying?”

“No, of course not,” he said, a little too quickly in your opinion.

“I’d want you to be honest with me if I was,” you said, playing with your fingers. The small act was making your hands ache, so you stopped, resting them over your stomach.

Tony reached over, careful to avoid the wires sticking out of you, taking your hand in his.

“You’re not dying, Y/N,” he said firmly.

You still knew he was lying.

Within the next two days, things only seemed to get worse. All the Avengers were now taking shifts by your side- usually with a lot of overlap as each lasted hours at a time. You’d been put back on oxygen when you began complaining of being so tired that it hurt to breathe.

You tried to put on a brave face for the rest of them, even if you could read all their faces and knew that they knew something you didn’t. You never cried or complained. You didn’t question anyone about you dying again, simply accepting it as a fact. Of course it was going to happen one day, but you couldn’t help that you were sad it was so soon.

“Please tell me you have something,” Tony said as he entered the lab adjacent to the med bay.

“I might,” he said, putting some scam results he took up on a board. “I think it’s connected to her powers. You see, she got them from HYDRA, right? Now that’s not easy- it takes advanced biotechnology to be able to give someone powers without killing them. You already know that, I suppose.” Tony resisted the urge to snap at Bruce for taking so long with his explanation. “Well, I think they installed some kind of self destruct along with. Like a biological timer to keep their ‘goods’ from being kept in the wrong hands.” Tony kept harsh eye contact with Bruce. “It’s causing her body to shut down.”

“But you can fix it, right?” Tony said, staring at the black and white images that meant nothing to him.

“We’re running out of time,” Bruce said, clearing his throat. “Once it gets past a certain point, it may… it may just be better to let her go.”

“No, we’re not doing that,” Tony said, barely letting Bruce finish and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tony-“

“I promised her she wasn’t dying and I will not be made into a liar,” he said, harshly. Bruce looked away from him, the monitor on his desk displaying your vitals in the next room. Tony sighed. “Just tell me what you need. Doctors, staff, medical equipment- I can get you anything you need in the next two hours.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You were pretty out of it for the next few days. When you were conscious, you were in pain, and when you slept, you were restless and often had nightmares. In the times you were awake, you were aware enough to know there was now a team of medical professionals checking in on you at all times. You felt like a guinea pig with how many people were constantly examining, touching, and prodding at you at all times.

Tony still stayed close, albeit a bit farther back after being snapped at by a doctor one too many times for being in the way.

Even if your eyes hardly opened for more than ten minutes at a time, you were always acutely aware of the number of people around you. Most of the Avengers sat with Tony around your bed and you kept hearing things along the lines of “go to bed, Nat,” and “we’ll come get you if anything changes, Steve,” and “if I fall asleep, wake me up when she does.”

You could hear the hushed whispers of doctors talking to Tony or Bruce over your head. You could hardly focus long enough to catch any of what they were saying, but when you heard a doctor say “Let’s step into the hall,” you knew it wasn’t good.

“Unless we can figure out what’s killing her,” Dr. Klein, an older woman and one of the best immunologists in the Northern Hemisphere, said, “we’re going to just be barely keeping her alive. Her quality of life is rapidly deteriorating and I believe she may be taking a turn for the worse.” Tony watched you through the window, surrounded by machines, doctors, and superheroes. “I thought I should let you know that it may be time to discuss hospice options in the event there’s nothing else we can do.”

Tony didn’t answer her. He just stood, watching you. He shut down any time anyone brought up you dying. He couldn’t help it. Imagining a world without you just seemed so impossible he couldn’t even fathom the reality he was being faced with.

Dr. Klein’s pager beeped and she excused herself, leaving Tony alone.

“Steve?” you said, your mouth dry from how long it’d been since you spoke. The others around the bed, including Steve, collectively stood and walked closer to you. You could tell Wanda, Bucky, and Sam were there and were somewhat surprised that Tony wasn’t.

“I’m here,” Steve said, taking one of your hands and leaning closer to you to hear your weak sounding voice.

“What’s going on?” you asked, not actually wanting to know what was going on, but rather wanting to have a conversation with someone. You hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to any of them and it was starting to get quite boring only being stuck with your thoughts and nightmares.

“You’re in the hospital still,” he said, stroking your hair back.

“Oh,” was all you could muster, mentally kicking yourself for sounding more confused than you were. You had to take a moment, the small sentences winding you. “Can you talk to me?” you croaked, your voice sounding scratchy. “All of you?”

“‘Course, doll,” Bucky answered, grabbing his chair and moving it forward. You mustered up a small smile, but it disappeared the moment it was there. The thought crossed his mind that he preferred it when you were screaming and thrashing, because then at least you could move. He mentally kicked himself for even comparing the two.

“Anything you want to hear about?” Steve asked. You wanted to say yes and list off all the things you wanted to talk about since you got sick, but your throat was already so sore from talking. You shook your head no.

Sam leaned forward in his seat. “Why don’t I tell you about mine and Bucky’s training session the other day?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile, seeing Bucky immediately turn red.

“Hey now-“

“C’mon, Buck,” Sam said, feigning offense, “you’re going to deny the girl this funny story just because she wasn’t there to experience it?” Bucky just shook his head. “Anyway, as I was saying…”

You tried to stay awake. You really did. But you kept nodding off anyway, jumping awake every few minutes to tell him to keep going.

“I can finish the story later, Y/N,” he said after the eighth time you’d fallen asleep.

“No, no,” you said, coughing slightly. “Just keep going. I want to hear your voice.” You took notice of Wanda’s silence, reaching out suddenly for her hand. She took it, squeezing it a few times as she tried to keep tears from her eyes. She’d already lost one sibling. She couldn’t lose another, even if you weren’t blood.

“So Bucky decided it was a good idea to get up again-“

“Excuse me,” a doctor said, rushing up to your bed with what seemed to be a whole medical team and a few other doctors you recognized behind him. “I’m sorry, I need you all to step back.” He was being quite rude with his tone, you thought. Everyone did as they were told, but you kept your feeble grip on Wanda’s hand.

“Ma’am-“

“Please,” you spoke up, staring weakly at him. He glared down at you.

“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. Nurses moved all around you, messing with the machines, your IV, one even shining a light in your eyes. You’d gotten somewhat used to people randomly walking up to you and poking at you or shoving things in your face, but with so many people it quickly became overwhelming. You squeezed Wanda’s hand tighter, beginning to shake a little.

Finally a familiar face appeared over you.

“Y/N,” Bruce said, leaning over your bed. “We’re gonna take you back to surgery, okay? Everything’s gonna be alright.” You began to shake more and Wanda put a hand over yours in a weak attempt to comfort you.

Tears were forming in your eyes, suddenly feeling the most scared you had been since you got sick.

“No,” you cried out weakly. “Please.” Tears streamed sideways down your face, either hitting the oxygen tube around your ears or your hair. Even if you were barely conscious most of the time, you wanted to be aware before you died. You didn’t want to go out on a metal table. The idea of not being able to feel yourself slipping terrified you.

“It’s going to be alright, you’re in good hands,” Bruce said as your bed began moving. Wanda’s hand slipped out of yours and you waved it around frantically trying to find hers again.

“No, please, no,” you whispered, barely processing where you were going. All you could see were the lights overhead as they rolled you down the hall. Everything else took too much effort to focus on. You came to a sudden stop in a dark room. Your cries became louder.

“Y/N, listen to me, sweetheart,” Bruce said, appearing in front of you again, “everything’s going to be alright. You’re going to be okay.” As he was speaking, someone removed your oxygen tube and put an oxygen mask over your face. “You’re alright.”

“You’re okay.”

“Everything’s alright.”

That was the last thing you remember.

Fortunately for you, the Avengers, and, by extension, Earth (because who knows what would’ve happened if they’d really lost you), you woke up a little over a day later.

You still felt sore- all the muscles in your body burning even as you laid flat on a bed. You were still exhausted. Beyond exhausted, even. Your eyelids and limbs are so heavy you could barely move. You could feel the now familiar feeling of an oxygen tube under your nose. It calmed you in some way.

The only real difference you could identify is you didn’t feel like you were being drained. Like the life was no longer being sucked out of you.

When you finally got your eyes opened, it took a minute for everything to come into focus. The overhead lights that had been on almost the entire time you were sick before were now dimmed, which you were thankful for considering being blinded was not the first thing you wanted to experience once you woke up. You turned your head slightly, still unsure of moving your body. The only person next to your bed now was Tony, just like the first time you woke up there.

He was holding your hand again, which you had to look down to realize because you were still trying to regain meaningful feeling in most of your body. He was asleep, slumped forward with his head resting on his arm against your bed. Slowly, you moved each of your fingers, eventually resulting in you squeezing his hand. It took him a minute to wake up- using his free hand to rub his eyes and check the time before he finally looked up and saw you staring back at him.

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward so he was closer to your head. He held your hand now in both of his so that it was next to his face. “How are you feeling?” You cleared your throat, not feeling the ache in your lungs you’d grown accustomed to over the long week.

“Amazing,” you said, cracking a smile. Your voice was weak and hoarse, but all Tony could focus on was the fact that your eyes were actually focusing on him- not in the distance, not nodding off, at him. He laughed at the absurdity of your response, and so did you, but you stopped once you realized his had turned to sobs. You didn’t know what to do at first. For one, Tony Stark was crying in front of you. Not only that, he was crying about you. And secondly, you were still feeling a bit drowsy from anesthesia and processing everything was taking just a bit longer.

“Tony,” you said, haphazardly moving your other hand to sit on top of his that were still around your other hand. “Please don’t cry.” He smiled, tears still running down his face as he rested his forehead on the stack of hands you’d both created.

“We thought we’d lost you,” he said, his shoulders still shaking as he squeezed your hand tighter. He looked up at you, his face red. You grinned at him.

“You didn’t really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”

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