Marvel Imagines

Don't Touch Her (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

This wasn't your first rodeo.

You're an Avenger.

A naturally born fighter who can handle herself.

You've proved that much numerous times over.

But right now, as you skitter into a back alleyway, your boots thumping against the uneven pavement and splashing through puddles, you can't help but begin to feel as though you may be out of your league on this one.

"Hey, uh, guys?" You manage to pant out into your earpiece through heavy breathing. "I might need a bit of help down here!"

On the opposite end is bickering between the likes of two people who always helped you through your solo missions.

Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff.

"Bucky, she asked for help! Just go down there and help her!"

That's Nat, sounding annoyed as per usual.

"This isn't the time for your childish behavior, you two!" You scold, vaulting over a ledge and into yet another, darker and rougher looking alley, the sound of your pursuer's heavy footsteps growing closer.

"She can handle herself. I'd just get in the way."

You can't help but huff in agreement as you hastily spare a glance over your shoulder at the masked figure chasing you.

"You're right about getting in the way, Buck. But right about now, I could really use another set of hands to take down this guy!"

Re-focusing on your surroundings, you scramble into another dingy looking area, urging yourself to run faster.

He's almost caught up to you.

You're gonna have to stop and fight him sooner or later.

You can't run forever.

However, just as you're about to turn around and face your opponent, you're forced to jump on the breaks, a evidently un-scalable brick wall blocking your path.

"Damn it," You mutter lowly, perking your ears for the sound of footsteps that had been echoing after you.

But, all is silent.

Including the darkly coloured clothing clad figure blocking the exit of the alleyway, a handgun evident in his grasp.

"Well, well, well," He tisks, stepping closer to your form, which is momentarily frozen, eyeing him over, looking for his next move. "It would seem you're out of places to run."

His gun.

He's gonna use the pistol.

But it's not silenced! He wouldn't risk that, would he?

Almost as if he had read your thoughts, your attacker raises his arm, weapon aimed at your head.

But you're faster, having already predicted his movement, you charge towards him, managing to knock the firearm from his grasp and put him in a chokehold.

"Who are you? Who's your buyer?" You press as the man struggles in your grip, your earpiece becoming loud with your friend's voices on the opposite end.