Title: Incidents Author: hotlineassbutt, previously themostmarvelousimagines Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Genre: Angst, fluff Warnings: Assault, attacks, bullet wounds, mentions of blood, language Request: “Hi can I please get a bucky x reader...

Title: Incidents
Author: hotlineassbutt, previously themostmarvelousimagines
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff
Warnings: Assault, attacks, bullet wounds, mentions of blood, language
Request: “Hi can I please get a bucky x reader prompt where bucky doesn’t talk to the reader but protects her fiercely?? Love your blog by the way“ requested by anonymous.
A/N: Italicized assault on the warnings list bc I know that can be a huge trigger for some people. I tried to write as little of it as possible but it is still there, so be careful while reading! Hope you enjoy, anon!

You came to the bar for one reason and one reason only; to humor your friends. Not that you’d call them friends, not at the moment, anyway. All you’d done so far was have a drink or two, smile when appropriate, and avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone. Your friends were off somewhere, probably dancing or getting wasted off their asses.
You sighed to yourself and took a sip from the plastic red straw in front of you, the strawberry drink splashing over your tongue. You could barely taste any alcohol, which was pleasant. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit room, observing faces and bodies, the atmosphere heavy and intense.
“Hey, doll,” someone said next to you, appearing nearly out of no where. It was a man, mid-20′s maybe. He had gentle stubble and oily, dark red hair that fell over his shoulders in waves. He was clad in some University sweatshirt, probably local. His lips were curled upward in a small, intimidating smirk. It made you mildly uncomfortable, the way he was looking at you.
“Um, hello,” you answered, shrinking away from his close proximity and holding your drink close to you. He seemed to notice your actions and only moved closer.
“You wanna get out of here?” he grinned, revealing crooked teeth. His breath smelled heavily of alcohol.
“No, I’m okay, thanks,” you replied, your voice small. You always imagined in these situations you would be strong, standing up to anyone who tried to hurt you. Unfortunately, all you wanted to do was run and hide from this man.
His eyes burned with anger, his hand coming up to strike. You closed your eyes and waited for the worst, but felt nothing. A shriek filled your ears and your eyes shot open.
The man was no longer in front of you, but pressed against the bar, another much larger man pinning his arm behind his back and holding him down. The larger man was mumbling something into the red-head’s ear. You couldn’t hear exactly what he said, but his voice was low and angry. The man who attacked you was trying to fight back, to no avail. He squirmed under the other man but was going no where. Eventually he nodded and the man let go of him, stepping back and moving in front of you.
Your savior was shielding you from your attackers gaze, keeping you close to him. Once he was out of sight, the man who saved you turned to you. You felt the air leave your lungs at his appearance.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his green eyes burning into yours. You couldn’t say anything, only stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man before you. His brown hair was tied back, exposing his entire face. His square jaw was covered in stubble, surrounding his pink lips. He wore a black t-shirt with a dark green jacket, blue jeans, and dress shoes. There was no denying it, he was hot as hell.
“Hey, are you okay?” he repeated himself, reaching forward hesitantly and shaking your shoulders gently. You settled for a nod, your mouth slightly agape and your eyes never leaving his.
“Good,” he said, turning and strutting into the crowd that had formed.
“Wait!” you called after him, but he was already gone. You stood there for a moment before you were practically smothered in a hug. Apparently your friends had seen the entire ordeal.

-

It had been a few days since the incident at the bar and you couldn’t seem to get the mystery man’s face out of your head. He haunted your dreams, both sleep and fantasy. You couldn’t stop thinking of him.
Deciding you needed to get out of your apartment, you settled for coffee and a walk. You dressed in your warmest clothes, tied your hair up and put on a small amount of makeup. Once outside, you braced against the chilly autumn air, shivering ever so slightly.
You took your time walking to the coffee shop. It was cold, but not cold enough to not enjoy the outdoors.
Once your arrived, you steppe over the threshold into the coffee shop and caught your foot. Apparently, there was a step you had missed.
You felt yourself fly forward and your arms flew forward to brace for impact. Your eyes closed tightly and you waited to make contact with the ground.
Instead of meeting the hard floor, you met a chest and arms. You could practically feel the question mark above your head. You opened your eyes and looked up, embarrassment tinting your cheeks. When you realized who had caught you, you let out a gentle gasp.
“It’s you!” you shouted, which caused him to shush you quietly. You straightened out and brushed yourself off, apologizing briefly.
“You’re really good at getting into trouble when I’m around,” he said, a small smile on his lips. He was just as pretty as you’d remembered, and even prettier with his hair down.
“I guess I just have good timing,” you laughed, tucking a fallen hair behind your ear. He smiled and glanced over his shoulder at a woman with red hair, who was smiling and shaking her head.
“Try not to get into so much trouble, okay?” he said, letting go of your arms. You hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto you. You mumbled a very quiet “sure, yeah, alright,” and stepped out of the way. He moved passed you, the red haired woman in tow. You felt your heart sink into your stomach. She was literal perfection, in every single way. Mentally slapping yourself for ever thinking you had a chance with your guardian angel, you ordered your coffee and went about your day with little enthusiasm.

-

It felt like weeks, maybe even months before you saw the brown haired man again. You had moved past it, assuming he was with the beautiful woman you’d seen him with at the coffee shop. Your life went on without incident, a few flat-iron burns and unset alarms, nothing too extreme. Things were okay, and you liked it.
One particularly pleasant evening, you heard a knock at your front door. It was a few men dressed in suits and sunglasses. They had guns on their hips, and you pretended you hadn’t noticed them.
They asked you all kinds of questions about the man who saved you that night at the bar. You told them the truth, you had no idea who he was.
You could pinpoint the exact moment when things when wrong. The two men looked at each other, nodded, and pulled out their guns. You were quick to duck behind the island in the kitchen, but not quick enough. One of the bullets hit your shoulder, in one side and out the other. You screamed out in pain, your hand flying up to press into the wound.
One second you heard gunfire, the next you heard a crash and two bodies hit to floor with a loud thud. Suddenly the only sound was your labored breathing and footsteps. The man that saved you appeared next to you in a flash, moving your hand out of the way and applying pressure to the wound.
“Y/N,” he said, “stay with me, okay?”
“It hurts,” you all but whined, taking note of his metal arm.
“I know it does, you’ll be okay, I promise,” he said, pulling you into his arms and carrying your bridal style. You cried out in pain as he moved, only to be hushed by his words of comfort.
“How did you know my name? Who were those men? Who are you?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the blood coating your shirt. He was carrying you downstairs, people were coming out of their apartments to see what had happened.
“I know your name because I work for SHIELD,” he carried you out the glass doors of the building, “those men were HYDRA agents,” he placed you in a black van, sitting you up against the back of a seat, “and I’m Bucky Barnes.”
You couldn’t believe your ears. Maybe you shouldn’t have, based on the amount of blood you’d lost so far. It stained everything, your clothes, his armor, both of your skin. It was a mess.
“Thank you,” was all you could say, reading forward and placing your hand on his face as someone came over and began dressing your wound. They looked important.
He nodded, smiled, then reached up and held your hand.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he apologized, his eyes filling with tears, “I should have been more careful.”
“You saved me,” you said, “You saved me, Bucky.”
This caused him to lean forward and press a brief kiss to your forehead. You felt butterflies erupt from your stomach, the pain in your shoulder forgotten for a moment.
You only hoped he wouldn’t have to save you anymore.

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