Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Past Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, OC x Stark!Reader (brief)

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst.

Summary: Bucky breaks out Zemo. Sam suggests they need help handling him, seeing as he can push Bucky’s buttons unlike anyone else. So they go to the only person who can handle both Bucky and Zemo, the only Stark left in the Superhero business… well kind of. Only problem is, she seems reluctant.

Warnings: Swearing, definitely.

a/n: These are snippets of scenes that introduce y/n into the story as a character without making drastic changes. The plot points remain mostly same as they take place in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, except that y/n is also a main character with them. The rest of the MCU events stay the same as well. No drastic retcons. The reader is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Thanks for you support. And oh, I guess the tag list is open?

sidenote: this really is a method I use to calm myself down from a panic attack.

Power Broker (6) | The Whole World Is Watching (1) | Series Masterlist

“You okay?” Bucky asks Sam, when he finally sits down after getting off the phone with Torres.

He’s sitting diagonal to Sam, with Y/n in front of him, who he notices keeps looking down where Bucky’s cleaning his left palm with his handkerchief.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes out. “Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person.” Sam sits up straight and turns over to look at Bucky, fury evident in his voice. “Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well, it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.” Bucky argues.

“Yeah, I get that. All right,” Sam concedes. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

There’s a determination in his voice, Bucky can’t yet place.

“You did,” Bucky agrees.

“Yeah. Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. Maybe I should have destroyed it.”

Ah, there it is. 

Bucky looks back at him, his voice is soft when he says, “Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me.” He leans forward, turning to face him, “The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap, and it ain’t gonna be Walker. So before you go and destroy it, I’m gonna take it from him myself.”

“Besides,” Y/n finally chimes in, both men turn to look at her, “You can’t kill a symbol, Sam. Most you can do… is wear it.”

Sam’s phone begins ringing, he picks it up as Zemo walks over with a plate full of…? Who knows? Poisoned biscuits probably. He takes a seat behind Bucky, their backs facing each other. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Good work,” Sam says into the phone, presumably to Torres. “They found Madani… Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea,” He informs the group in front of him.

“I have a place we can go,” Zemo suggests. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli.” That doesn’t sound fucking ominous at all. “Oeznik, we’re changing the course,” Zemo calls out.

Eventually, they all settle in for the night. Each grabbing one corner of the fuselage for themselves.

But sleep is a precious commodity for people like Bucky. It should be sold in tiny little boxes at the jewelry store along with diamonds. At least then maybe Bucky could probably afford some.

He wakes up gasping, unable to breathe, almost choking. Everything around him is hazy except the faint voice that pulled him out of the slumber to begin with.

“James?” The voice calls out, but Bucky can’t fucking focus. There isn’t enough oxygen going into his brain. He isn’t even sure he’s fully awake yet because it kinda sounds like his maa’s calling him, like she did when he and Steve were kids. Nobody calls him ‘James’ anymore… right?

“James?” The voice is louder this time, more urgent. Bucky wants to go to it, see who the fuck actually gives enough of a shit about him to sound so damn worried. “Come back to me, James?”

Y/n.

His eyes fly open, he’s still disoriented and the world still feels like a dream. But he can see Y/n kneeling in front of him, so it really can’t be a dream. Bucky doesn’t have such fucking pretty dreams anymore. 

“There you are, sunshine,” She coos at him. Her voice is hushed and so very soft. “Can you do me a solid and breathe with me?”

Bucky can’t really understand much at the moment but he trusts her, so he nods. And begins breathing in tandem with her. He inhales and exhales heavily a couple of times, coming back to enough of his senses to realize that he’s holding her hand. She doesn’t seem to mind though. Instead she’s running soothing circles with her thumb over the back of his hand. And again he’d blame faulty wiring for the feeling of electricity coursing through every inch of contact their skins are making, but it’s not his damn left hand.

“Can you hear me better now?” She asks.

He nods an assent.

“Good, that’s good. Just listen to my voice okay? Focus on my voice and keep breathing. Can you do that for me, sunshine?” She asks gently.

Bucky nods again.

She smiles a small adorable smile and begins, “Rehabilitated? Well, now let me see. You know, I don’t have any idea what that means,” She recites. “I know what you think it means, sonny. To me it’s just a made up word. A politician’s word, so young fellas like yourself can wear a suit and a tie, and have a job. What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for what I did?” She leans over and carefully wipes away the thin layer of sweat that was coating Bucky’s forehead with her hand, as she continues, “There’s not a day goes by I don’t feel regret. Not because I’m in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can’t.” She pushes his hair back with one hand, still rubbing small circles on his hand with her thumb, with the other. Bucky’s not even sure she knows she’s doing it. “That kid’s long gone and this old man is all that’s left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It’s just a bullshit word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don’t give a shit,” She completes.

Bucky realizes he’s breathing much easier now. His vision is fully restored and he’s painfully aware of Y/n crouching in front of him on her knees.

“Feel better?’ She asks, a kind smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Bucky chokes out. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she dismisses easily. 

“I’m sor—”

“—Are you really about to apologize for having a nightmare?” She cocks her eyebrow, her voice coated in annoyance.

“I just—”

“—Fuck off,” she throws back.

“Sor—” He’s cut off by the glare she throws her way. “Fine, what would you like, then?” He asks, completely lost.

“My hand back…”

Well, fuck. 

He’s still holding her hand… Bucky is still holding her fucking hand… and he doesn’t let go even after she asks for it… He looks down at their hands and then looks back up at her. And yet, does not let go. Oh how he wishes it could’ve been the left one so he could’ve claimed innocence, blaming it on Shuri’s  equipment.

Let go, you fucking creep! He scolds himself.

“I kinda need it to go get you some water, that’s all,” she explains patiently. Bucky looks down at their joined hands again, and still doesn’t let go. He can’t put his finger on why. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” she swears genuinely. 

And the moment he hears those words, he relaxes and lets go easily. 

Well fuck times two.

She makes her way over to the cockpit, picking up two water bottles  from the broken fridge and walking right back to him. She urges him to shift a bit and sits down on the extended seat next to him.

“Drink up, cowboy,” she gives him a bottle while setting the other down on the seat between them. “It’ll help.”

When the first drop of water touches his lips he realizes he was parched all along. He chugs more than half the bottle in one go before she interrupts, “Eaasyyy, cowboy. Easy,“ she says brushing a gentle arm over his shoulder. He looks over at her. “Go slower. You’re taking all the romance out of it,” she suggests, laughing at her own joke.

He’d laugh too, but he just had a gut-wrenching nightmare. So excuse him. 

He finishes the rest of the bottle, putting it down on the floor. They both settle into their seats. He looks over at her and finally it clicks, “Did you— did you just quote Shawshank Redemption at me to calm me down?” He asks, incredulous.

“Maybe…” She replies slyly, her lips curling up at the edges.

“Wha—And I say this with the utmost respect, but what the fuck?” He asks.

And she breaks out laughing. Bucky decides then and there, flying over the Caspian Sea, that he would fight wars to hear that sound again.

“It’s just something I do for myself, you know? To get out of my head, when I’m about to get caught in it…” she speaks in whispers, with a calmness not often associated with nightmares and panic attacks. He can’t help but admire the sight in front of him. The sun’s beginning to rise and the soft rays of the sun filtering in along with the dimmed lights of the cabin makes her look almost angelic. 

There’s a silence between them. It’s comfortable but he doesn’t mind it when she breaks it.

“How did you even know it was Shawshank Redemption?” She asks suddenly.

What is it with people thinking Bucky’s fucking illiterate?

“I read it,” he defends.

“With all the rest of Stephen King’s collection, of course.” She nods in understanding.

“Who told you that?”

“You just did,” she says looking at him, a smile finally breaking out on his face, “nerd.”

Bucky chuckles, “Come on, he writes good stuff, alright?” He defends himself.

“And a lot!” She throws back. “And I mean, a lot, a lot. That like, at least 50 books.”

“62,” He corrects her. “And well, not much else to do when you can’t sleep you know?” 

“Touché,” she agrees with an understanding in her voice that only comes from experience. “Kinda how I ended up with a law degree,” she adds after a pause, almost to herself.

“About that,” Bucky begins, but is cut off by her yawn. She mumbles out a hushed apology, looking embarrassed. “Oh shit, we can do this later, you should get some sleep.” He feels like an ass.

“No, no. Come on, ask whatever you were going to—”

“It can wait. I woke you up—”

“You didn’t—”

He barrels on “—and now I’m keeping you up.”

“I wasn’t exactly having the most peaceful sleep, alright? This is much better than whatever twisted scenario my brain had cooked up… “ she says with a hint of resentment in her eyes. “Besides, I don’t want to miss this…”

Bucky has no fucking clue if she means the sunrise or this conversation because she’s looking at him and he’s looking back at her and the world is fading away.

Until she says, “Ask away, Sarge.” She pushes herself back to the edge of the seat, resting her back on the wall. She takes off her boots, and pulls her legs up, folding them halfway and rests her arms over her knees. Her feet brush over the leg Bucky has folded up sideways on the seat while the other one remains hanging off. He cherishes the small intimacy of the touch.

“Where’d you go?” She asks, her head tilting to follow his gaze.

He looks up at her, “Nowhere,” he dismisses.

“You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here. What’s the damn question?

He chuckles softly, “Oh, nothing big. Just… Did you really get my pardon..?”

She shrugs in response, “I am technically the official lawyer for the Avengers.”

“What?” Nobody told him about that!

“Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know, I guess,” she smiles. “Well, I was Tony’s lawyer, but then I made a deal with Fury to work with Shield and then Washington happened, then the accords and somehow I ended up becoming the whole team’s lawyer.”

“You could’ve told me before,” Bucky says, desperately trying to convey his gratitude. “I didn’t even know it was you. I thought it was Sam pulling strings for me. Least I could’ve done is get you flowers or something.”

She chuckles, “I ain’t dead yet. And I like tulips.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He will.

“Like I said, it all got too much. I just wanted to get things settled and done away with as soon as possible, without much human interaction. I wasn’t coping very well with the whole thing… Morgan was the only person I talked to… I’m sorry.”

“No, no!” He rushes to console her. “I’d just like to have expressed my thanks before, is all. You must be pretty damn good at your job to get a former assassin for Hydra off scot free.”

“Umm… but it wasn’t scot free though, was it?” She asks rhetorically with a cheeky smile.

“Wait… the therapy? That was you?” He asks with disbelief washing over his face. He’s jumped up from his seat and is sitting straighter now. 

“Shh!” She shushes him.

“Don’t shush me!” He whisper yells back at her.

She chortles and then, “I thought it would be good for you.”

The honesty of her words, makes him relax and fall back in his seat, “It is… sometimes.”

She smiles, “That’s better than none of the time…”

Bucky hums in agreement.

Another silence falls over them, just as comfortable as the previous one. She’s looking out the window and he’s looking at her. He doesn’t want to break it but he wants to know her.

So he asks, “Is that what you wanted to be?”

She looks back at him, confused.

“You said the hero gig wasn’t for you… Did you want to be a lawyer?”

“Well, not exactly. It was kind of an impulse decision taken cause of boredom.”

“Boredom?” He repeats the word, hoping to understand how someone can become a lawyer because of boredom. He doesn’t. He chooses to ask, “Care to explain?”

“Alright,” she takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter, “I had a shit time sleeping, and Tony—that overachieving asshat—had just gotten into MIT. He was a teenager now, and thought that made him ‘too cool’ to hang out with me.” Her voice is drenched in sarcasm and mock offence but adoration, evident. She even uses fucking air quotes. Bucky can’t help but smile. “So with nothing better to do after having finally stepped out into the public as Tony’s adopted sister, I went and got a law degree.”

“There a reason you specifically picked law? He asks, genuinely curious.

“Of course there was; Anthony Edward Stark!” She exclaims. He has to reach over and cup her mouth to stop her yelling from waking up Zemo and Sam. The moment he realizes what he’s done he’s about to apologize. But she continues undeterred, simply pulling his hand off gently and adding, “That kid had a fucking neon sign over his head, the size of Ohio, just screaming, ‘Litigation’.”

“He was a troublemaker since the beginning, I take it?” He asks, laughing.

“Oh, If we had to hire him a legal team, he’d never have become a millionaire, let alone a billionaire.” 

Her face is lit up so bright, Bucky thinks he might need to invest in some really good quality sunglasses if he wants to keep seeing her smile like that. And oh boy, does he want to keep seeing her smile like that!

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” Bucky ventures.

“No,” she says, “it was worse.”

Bucky snorts  in disbelief.

“You don’t believe me?” She asks rhetorically, before crossing her legs over one another and moving closer to him. “21st birthday. He can legally drink now, like that had ever stopped him before. But anyway, he’s not only drunk off his damn rocker but higher than the Empire State building, alright? It’s like 3 am in the morning and he stumbles out of the club, leaving behind the most extravagant party of that year, cause the young genius is craving a fucking donut.” Her hands are moving around in animated motions and Bucky has never been this captivated by anything before. “The nearest 24 hour Dunkin’ Donuts is about a 20 minute ride away. Now, the kid might be hungry but he isn’t suicidal. So his brilliant mind supplies him with the most Stark solution there is.”

“Which is?” Bucky urges.

“Breaking into the local convenience store two blocks away from the club, and make the damn donuts himself,” she deadpans. And Bucky can’t help but fucking giggle. “Oh you laugh now but the police did not find it funny at all.”

“Where were you when this was happening?” He asks in between his chuckles.

“Right behind him screaming instructions at him on how to pick a lock,” she replies plainly. “Why do you think they called the police?”

Fuck! Bucky can’t hold it, he breaks out into a hearty laugh, doubling over..

“Will you two quit your giggling?” Sam chides from behind them. They both hush each other but can’t stop their laughter. “Us regular folk need sleep!”

He doesn’t really get any though. Cause the two of them spend the rest of the flight telling each other stories from their childhood. Their giggles even manage to wake up Zemo by the end. 

tag list: @thisisparadisemylove @justab-eautifulmess @intothesoul @buckyisperfect @aryksworld @ceo-of-daichi @ireadthensuetheauthors @fckdeusername​ @hotleaf-juice @itspetitfantomestuff

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