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Ok so I was originally going to wait until the Blu-Ray release of Civil War before I continued writing Distorted, but now highschool is becoming a life-sucking abyss so it may be longer.  I've re-watched Civil War a few times of course, but I'll have to revisit that story and figure out what in the hell I'm gonna do with it.  
  • Listening to: Svrcina - No Matter What They Say
  • Eating: Pringles
  • Drinking: Cold Coffee
Contains spoilers for Captain America: Civil War!  You have been warned!


You skidded to a stop and saw Bucky's confinement cell ripped open and the fake doctor on the floor.  Bucky himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Help."  The Russian winced.

Steve grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall.  "Who the hell are you?  And what do you want?"

"I want to see an empire fall." He snarled.

Sam gave a cry of surprise and you whirled around to see your James just as he threw the Falcon into the corridor.

You didn't remember what happened after that.  Suddenly you were flying through the air and your Hydra training kicked in.  You were a soldier.  A machine.  Bred to kill.  

The last thing you remembered was falling into the river, and a strong hand pulling you against the current.


You groaned,  forcing your eyes to open.  The room was dimly lit, and you could hear helicopters in the distance.  

"Cap."  Sam said, stepping out of the shadows.

Steve appeared to his side, but he didn't look at you.  He looked to your right.  You craned your neck to see Bucky hunched over with his metal arm stuck to a magnet.

"Buck, do you remember me?"  The blonde asked.

"James..." You mumbled, tugging at the zip ties that held you to your seat.

Bucky shot you a wary glance, then turned to Steve.  "Your mom's name was Sarah."  He started chuckling.  "You... You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

"Just like that?  We're cool?"  Sam asked, eyeing the two of you suspiciously.

"We weren't in Vienna, Wilson.  The doctor who was assessing Bucky was fake.  He had a book that holds the key to controlling him." You said defensively.  

"All he had to do was say the goddamn words..." He finished, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What did he want?" Steve asked.

"He wanted to know about Siberia.  The facility where I was kept."


"Because we're not the only Winter Soldiers." You interrupted.

"There were 5 more.  Hydra's ultimate team.  They speak thirty languages, they can hide in plain sight, they could uproot an entire country in a night and you'd never even know they were there." Bucky finished, his voice laced with pain.

"Guess we're going to Siberia then."  Steve decided.


Few words were passed on the car trip to meet up with Sharon.  She'd managed to nab all of the gear that you four required.  Unfortunately the car ride was less than pleasant.  Steve had chosen-- of all things-- a small, cramped blue Volkswagen.  Being squished in the back seat against Bucky could have been worse though.

Steve squeezed out of the car to meet Sharon, who popped the trunk of her much larger and more practical car, revealing the aforementioned gear.  They exchanged a few words.

"Can you move your seat up?" Bucky asked flatly.

"No." Sam replied with equal distaste.

You were pressed even closer to the side of the car as he scooted out from behind Sam.  Wordlessly, he robbed you of your seat and made you sit perched on his lap.

"Ты, должно быть, шутишь.*" You grunted, squirming in the even tighter position you were stuck in.

"Вы были в худших ситуациях.*" was the factual response.

You looked back up at Steve and Sharon, who were--

What the hell?

You could've sworn Sam snickered, and you could practically hear Bucky grinning behind you.  There they were, Steven Rogers and Sharon Carter.  Making out under a damn bridge.

Once Steve returned to the car with your gear, you wriggled out of Bucky's lap and took his place behind Sam.  

"Что, ты не любишь меня?*"

"Заткнись, Барнса.*"


You met up at a secure airport with someone named Clint Barton.  He was bringing two more recruits, Scott Lang and Wanda Maximoff.  You weren't very familiar or comfortable around so many threatening people.  You only stayed for Bucky.

Well.  Maybe you could warm up to these people.  But it wasn't very likely.

You were introduced to the young girl who was Wanda, and the obviously flustered Scott.  He practically died in the presence of Steve, marveling at the sight.  You sighed internally.

An announcement blared over the airport's intercom.  

"They're evacuating the airport."  Bucky declared.

"Stark."  Steve grimaced.  "Everyone suit up."


"You're leaving." Bucky declared, zipping up his jacket.

"What are you talking about?  I'm staying here, I'm going to fight." You protested.

"Hell no.  These people will kill you.  And I'm not gonna let that happen, дорогой.*"

"You can't make me leave, люблю*."

He snaked his arms around your neck and rested his chin on the top of your head, sighing into your hair.  "I would feel better knowing you were safe, (Y/n)."

"If I leave I risk getting arrested anyways.  People are looking for us, самый дорогой.*" You reminded him.

His cold, metal hand stroked your (h/c) hair with a certain gentleness that he spared for no one else.  You took in the scent of his clothing.  It smelled musky, but in an earthy way, as if someone had washed them in a river and hung them to dry.  

Your feet suddenly lifted from the floor, and you were roughly pressed between Bucky's formidable chest and the tile wall of the bathroom.  His mouth covered your own in a vicious yet strangely docile manner, his tongue dancing with yours.  You tasted stale beer and the fresh fruit he'd bought at the market only a couple days ago.  His fingers tugged restlessly at the end of your shirt.  You felt his hand sliding underneath the fabric and-

"Are you two ready yet?  They're here.  We gotta get movin'."

"черт возьми*."  Bucky cursed.  "Just a minute!"

You stifled a giggle, knowing he was probably more pissed than he let on.  He pulled your shirt back down and let your feet touch the floor again, grunting from having held you up so long.

"There'll be other times, вы придурок*." You teased, flicking his ear.

"Assuming we don't all die."

"Shove it, Bucky.  Let's go kick some ass."


To be continued...
Distorted - Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)
Ты, должно быть, шутишь - You must be joking.

Вы были в худших ситуациях - You've been in worse situations.

Что, ты не любишь меня? - What, you don't like me?

Заткнись, Барнса. - Shut up, Barnes.

дорогой - Darling

люблю - Love

самый дорогой - Dearest

черт возьми - Damn it

вы придурок - You dork

Whoops I made some fluffy crap oh well.
I remember when your head caught flame
It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain


You tapped your thigh impatiently, waiting for Steve to finish getting his haircut.  He was so intent on joining the army, it was all he talked about now.  You couldn't hold a civilized conversation with him anymore because every time you tried, he would somehow end up in a fit of passion, going on about how he just had to enlist.

You sighed and brushed a strand of (h/c) hair from your face.  You pursed your crimson-colored lips as the barber removed the bib from around Steve's neck.  He'd buzzed around his head and left it longer at the top, just the way you liked it.  

Well you laughed, baby it's okay
It's buzz-cut season anyway
(Well you laughed, baby it's okay)


Steve flicked a few stray hairs from the collar of his white button-up and slipped on his jacket.  The two of you were going to the cinema for a little date this afternoon.  You'd put on your (f/c) dress and your mother had done your hair for you.  

"Ready to go, (Y/n)?"  Steve asked, extending a hand to help you up from your seat.

"As I'll ever be." You replied with a bit more distaste then you had intended.

His blue eyes narrowed.  "Do you not want to go to the cinema?  I mean we don't have to go if you don't want, we could always go to the diner--"

"No, no, it's fine.  Just a little tired is all."  You lied, giving him a half-smile for reassurance.

"If you say so."

Explosions on TV, and all the girls with heads inside a dream
So now we live beside the pool, where everything is good


Steve hailed a cab and opened the door for you, the chivalrous little scamp.  You slid inside and scooted all the way over to the other side of the bench.

"Where to?"  The cab driver asked with a hint of Scot in his tone.

"Brooklyn Cinema."  

We ride the bus with the knees pulled in
People should see how we're living
(We ride the bus with the knees pulled in)


You stifled a sigh and looked out the window.  Most of the street walkers were women or the elderly nowadays.  You saw a young girl leading a little boy, no more than perhaps five years old, down the sidewalk and into the diner you and Steve loved so well.

"D'you think Bucky enlisted yet?  He kept talking about it, but I don't know if he actually did." Steve said, breaking the stiff silence that had previously filled the cab.

"I would imagine." You replied, the thought making you more depressed.  "Let's just get to the cinema, I don't want to talk about it."

Shut my eyes to the song that plays
Sometimes this has a hot, sweet taste
(Shut my eyes to the song that plays)


The cab pulled to a stop in front of the cinema.  Steve tossed his fee and some spare change to the cab driver and helped you out of the vehicle.  

You spotted some street musicians on the corner beside the building.  One man tapped a beat on an overturned rubbish bin while his companion played the saxophone.  A few passersby dropped coins into the open instrument case.

"Come on, (Y/n), we'll be late for the show." Steve insisted, taking your hand and leading you into the establishment.

You almost pulled away.  You loved Steve, but his passion for freedom and the undying will to serve his country was unbearable.  Heck, he'd probably go find another enlistment station before the day was out.  

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't fully notice when he handed you a bag of peanuts, nor did you notice when you sat down.  It was only when the enlistment ads came up that you snapped back to reality.  

Steve was enamored with the footage, filmed directly on the front lines.  You didn't exist anymore.  It was just him and his dream to be a soldier.

The men up on the news, they try to tell us all that we will lose
But it's so easy in this blue, where everything is good


"Come on, play the movie already!" Someone complained three rows ahead.

"Hey, wanna show some respect?" Steve interrupted almost immediately.

"Steven..." You warned.  "Do NOT make a mess of this date, I swear to God..."

But your words were background noise to him.  The disrespectful fellow went on complaining, and you watched silently as your boyfriend's small fists clenched.

"Hey, wanna SHUT UP?!"

You closed your watering eyes as the the young man stood from his seat, turning around and staring daggers at Steve.  He rudely pushed people out of his way to get to him, then grabbed him roughly by the collar and began dragging him away.

As upset as you were, you weren't so exacerbated that you would leave him to get his face punched in.  You followed at a safe distance, watching as Steve struggled against the larger man.  It pained you to see him like this, but in all honesty, he deserved it.  

And I'll never go home again (place the call, feel it start)
Favorite friend (and nothing's wrong when nothing's true)
I live in a hologram with you


"Please tell me that wasn't Steve getting his ass kicked again."

You jumped, whirling around to find your older brother standing behind you, all done up in soldier dress.  

"J-James, what are you...?"

"He told me he was takin' you out, I just figured this is where he'd be.  But I didn't figure he'd be gettin' dragged off into some side alley to get his skinny ass whooped." Bucky replied, taking your arm and walking in the direction the aforementioned had gone.

Where all the things that we do for fun (and I'll breathe, and it goes)
Play along (make-believe it's hyper real)
But I live in a hologram with you


Indeed, Steve was taking a beating.  Blood ran from a cut on his lip, and his hands were visibly scraped.  The rude, curly-haired man punched him so hard that he fell into an empty rubbish bin.  Still, he stood back up.

"You jus' don't know when to give up, do ya?"  He taunted.

Steve panted and raised his fists.  "I could do this all day."

That only earned him another blow to the face.

"James, please do something..." You winced.  

"Say no more, little sister." He said with a wink.  

He marched forward and grabbed the vile personage by his jacket sleeve, yanking him away from his friend.  "Pick on someone your own size!"

Dodging a punch, Bucky landed a heavy blow to the man's nose, causing him to turn completely around.  Then he kicked him in the rear, sending him stumbling forward.  The curly-haired fellow ran like a spooked cat.

"I had him on the ropes."  Steve said, grimacing and gingerly touching a bruise that had begun to form under his eye.

"Yeah, sure." Your brother replied flatly.

He seemed to take notice of Bucky's uniform.  "You get your orders?"

"The 107th." Was the almost smug reply.  "Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow."

Steve caught your eye.  You simply shook your head and walked away, leaving the two men in the alley.  You caught a cab before either of them could catch up.  Bucky gave you a sympathetic look as you rode away.

Cola with the burnt-out taste
I'm the one you tell your fears to
There'll never be enough of us


You went back to your mother's apartment, tossing your house key and handbag on the stand beside the door.  You pulled the clips out of your hair, letting the angry tears roll down your cheeks.  Another day ruined.  

"You're home early." Your mother stated from the kitchen.  "Did you miss the show?"

When you didn't answer, she poked her head through the doorway.  Seeing your sorry state, she gave you a sad smile.  She wiped her hands off on her apron and approached you with open arms, embracing you tightly.  You cried off what little makeup you had on and then retired to your bedroom, not interested in eating.

You dozed off somewhere between six and seven in the evening, neglecting a bath or even to change into sleepwear.

Explosions on TV, and all the girls with heads inside a dream
So now we live beside the pool, where everything is good


"I feel awful, Buck."  Steve said, taking a drink of his beer.

"Uh huh.  You know she doesn't get upset easily, which means she's really pissed." Bucky stated matter-of-factly.

"How do I fix this?"

"Well, Mister Rogers, I believe the correct solution to your predicament would be to maybe... apologize?"  was the sarcastic reply.

"You're hilarious." Steve muttered, setting down his now empty bottle and sighing.

"We can go by my place, she probably ran straight to Mom.  You give her the most heartfelt sincere apology you can or I revoke my blessing upon your relationship."

His dry humor elicited a chuckle from the blonde.  "Alright, Buck.  Let's go."

And I'll never go home again (place the call, feel it start)
Favorite friend (and nothing's wrong when nothing's true)
I live in a hologram with you


"(Y/n)?  Your brother's home, sweetheart." Your mother called from the other side of the door.

You rubbed your eyes, rolling over on your bed to find that yes, you had passed out in your (f/c) dress.  You stripped it off and tossed it in the laundry hamper, putting on a more commonly worn flowered frock.  Then you visited the bathroom and splashed cold water on your face to remove any evidence of your tears.

Just as you trudged out of your room, you spied Steve sitting at the dining table beside your brother.  

You glared at Bucky.  He smiled innocently.

"Hey, (Y/n), uh..." Steve swallowed.  "Can we talk?"

"Depends." You replied dryly.  "Are you going to have a tangent or do you have something other than enlistment to talk to me about?"

Your mother cleared her throat, giving you a look that clearly said "You're making things worse, love."

Steve stood from his chair and stepped forward, walking past you towards the spare room.  You reluctantly followed, closing the door behind you as you went.

"Um." He said, scratching the back of his head.  "I realize now that I've been selfish.  I neglected your feelings and only focused on enlisting, thinking it wouldn't affect you.  I was wrong.  It was stupid of me to think you would be fine with me going off to the army and leaving you here.  I love you, (Y/n) (M/n) Barnes, and I feel horrible that I didn't even think of you when I first started trying to enlist."

You looked at your bare feet, poking a notch in the wood floor with your toe.  "Apology accepted, you big dork."

Steve let out a sigh of relief, only to be cut off by your lips on his.

Where all the things that we do for fun (and I'll breathe, and it goes)
Play along (make-believe it's hyper real)
But I live in a hologram with you


Buzzcut Season - Steve Rogers x Barnes!Reader
I should be working on the next part of Distorted but I'm having a bit of a block.  Sorry for that. And sorry for this crap one-shot garbage ajhdfkjsdjflsadkf;lsdf. e.e
Contains spoilers for Captain America: Civil War!  You have been warned!

You and Bucky had been arrested by the German police along with Steve, Sam, and T'Challa.  Bucky was put in a separate confinement space, bound with thick metal cuffs.  He was sent to be assessed by a psychologist in the room beside yours.

Minutes felt like hours in that bare, concrete room.  You glared into the security camera a few times, but grew bored of it.  Eventually you could hear quiet voices in Bucky's room.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, correct?" The doctor asked.

Slight Russian accent.  

"My name is Bucky."  was the quiet reply.

"Alright then, Bucky.  Let's talk about some of your...  missions.  You have a vast history with Hydra, yes?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course, of course..."  The doctor trailed off.  "I only need to ask about one in particular, however."

Mildly forced pronunciation of words, which means he's trying to hide it...

This was bad.  This was very, very bad.

"HEY!" You shouted, waving at the security camera.  "SOMEONE COME DOWN HERE AND-"

The lights in the facility flickered and went out.  Everything was pitch black, except for the soft, red light that indicated your cell door was still locked.

You hugged the wall, listening for the doctor's voice.  You heard the scraping of a chair against the floor, footsteps, and then very, very soft Russian.


Oh God...

"JAMES!  JAMES DO YOU HEAR ME?!" You screamed, pounding on the solid concrete wall.  "DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!"


"Please stop..." Bucky begged, his voice almost a whimper.


You kept screaming for someone to come help.  Anyone.  Anyone who could stop the fake doctor from unleashing the horrors of Hydra's best assassin.


"SHUT UP!" Bucky screamed.  You could hear metal being ripped apart.


"Nine.  Benign."

He was reading faster now. You caught the faint sound of footsteps coming up the stairwell outside your cell.

They wouldn't make it in time.  

You kicked the hinge of the cell door, hoping to perhaps dislodge it.  


You heard Bucky screaming-- the sound of pure terror.


"LET ME OUT!  I CAN STOP HIM!"  You shrieked, pounding on the metal door with your fist.

In a strange twist of luck, the lock on your door failed.  You flung it open and raced around the corner, cutting off Steve and Sam as they exploded out of the stairwell.

"Freight car."

"NO!  JAMES!"  

You skidded to a stop and saw Bucky's confinement cell ripped open and the fake doctor on the floor.  Bucky himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Help."  The Russian winced.

Steve grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall.  "Who the hell are you?  And what do you want?"

"I want to see an empire fall." He snarled.

Sam gave a cry of surprise and you whirled around to see your James just as he threw the Falcon into the corridor.

You didn't remember what happened after that.  Suddenly you were flying through the air and your Hydra training kicked in.  You were a soldier.  A machine.  Bred to kill.  

The last thing you remembered was falling into the river, and a strong hand pulling you against the current.


To be continued
--I apologize ahead of time if the French and Russian in here are incorrect!  I also had to do a fair bit of research, since I am not very familiar with the Punch Out characters.  Apologies for any inaccuracies contained therein.--

"Pick it up, Mac!  You're fallin' behind!"  Doc cried from outside the ring.

Mac narrowly dodged another blow from the infamous Russian boxer, Soda Popinski.  Doc simply called him Soda Pop, which at first, Mac thought was pretty damn funny.  

But this guy was no joke.  Mac's left eye was already swelling shut after he failed to duck down far enough.  Sweat rolled down his forehead and made his green fighting top cling relentlessly to his skin.  He was beginning to feel dizzy, but he refused to back down.

You were watching silently among the bustling throngs of people watching this match.  The World Circuit matches were usually some of the most crowded.  You yourself were a boxer in the women's division, from France.  Your English was poor, but most people wouldn't dare make fun of your lingual impairment for fear of getting KO'ed.

Little Mac had become a favorite for you to watch.  His skill was undeniable, and you knew he was capable of achieving certain greatness.

Unfortunately for the aspirant, tonight was not favorable.

You winced as Soda Pop's red gloved fist connected with Mac's jaw, and the poor boy fell to the ground.  Out cold.  The referee rang the bell, and the match was over.  

Soda Pop gave his signature wink and gestured to Mac, beaming with pride.  But there was a peculiar glint in his eye this evening.  You paid him no mind, too busy watching Doc as he shook a well-beaten Mac back into reality.  The rising star slowly got to his feet and started walking towards the barrier to exit the ring.

"[1]Для России, так и для World Circuit!" He declared.  

You and the rest of the audience watched in confusion as he walked up behind Mac and proceeded to punch him in the back of the head.

"HEY!  GET OFF MY BOY!" Doc roared, jumping into the ring.  

Soda ignored his demands and continued to beat the shit out of an already tarnished Mac.  The referee began shouting at Soda's trainer to do something.  You immediately jumped out of the stands and rushed forward, pushing through other onlookers.

"[2]Non!  Bouge de là!  Déplacer!!" You shrieked.  

Soda gave Doc a swift blow to the stomach and then turned back to Mac, who was lying on the ground, groaning in agony.  

You tossed aside your jacket and purse, jumping past security guards and hopping over the walls of the boxing ring.  Soda turned around at the last second, only to receive a brain-shattering uppercut from your bare fist.  Your hand screamed its disapproval, and you guessed you'd probably dislocated one of two of your fingers.  That guy's head was a rock.

Paramedics and policemen crowded the hall, as did curious reporters.  Security was ushering everyone out the doors to make way for the authorities.

"'Ey there, (Y/n)."  Doc greeted, recognizing you.  "Thanks for takin' care of 'ol Soda Pop there.  Them Russians sure don't play nice."

"Is not problem." You replied, smiling.  "Mac give good match, even though lose.  Strong boy.  Much talent.  Handsome too."  

"Need to get that hand looked that though, honey.  Dontcha have a Circuit Match this weekend?"

You nodded, watching as the paramedics loaded Mac onto a stretcher and carted him out the door.  "Hand will be fine.  Worry not about me, about Mac."

"I'll make sure he comes to your match and thanks you properly, eh?  See ya then, (Y/n).  Train hard for me, aight?"  Doc asked.


~>[*Your Match*]<~

You chewed nervously on your mouth guard,  awaiting the beginning of the match.  There were way too many things on your mind.  Surely it wasn't healthy.  Doc and Mac had yet to make an appearance, though you could hardly blame them, considering the events that transpired only a few days before.  You wondered if Soda would be disqualified or charged for his actions.  

"[3]Préparez-vous, ma colombe."  Your trainer, Kiera, whispered.  "This one fast, like viper.  Be faster.  Stronger.  Focus more, win more."

You nodded,  stepping forward into the ring.  Your opponent was Ruby Redford, otherwise known as Red Ruby, from England, as her tank top patriotically screamed the Union Jack.  Her icy blue eyes practically stared a hole into your soul.  

"Ready to get your ass kicked, Frenchie?"  She taunted, tossing her blonde ponytail.  

"[4]Pas ce soir, salope."  You shot back, (e/c) eyes glittering.  

Doc Louis and Mac finally showed up, just as the bells rang for the round to start.  Your opponent lunged forward, hitting only air as you easily dodged.  You landed a sharp uppercut into her stomach, just as Soda had done to Doc.  A surprise punch hit your upper chest, sending waves of pain into your neck.  You rolled your shoulders back and ducked under Ruby's fist.  Damn she was sloppy.  You guessed her speed made up for her pathetic aim.  

"I could do this all day, Frenchie."  

~>[*Mac's POV*]<~

Holy shit, this girl was good.

After Doc had finished yelling my ear off about how I'd lost, he'd told me about the young French boxer who'd stopped Soda before he could do any real damage.  At first I was generally unimpressed.  Usually the female boxers weren't much to look at, nor were they very polite.  But Doc kept singing her praises for hours.

Only now would I admit that I had been wrong in assuming that (Y/n) (L/n) was another chintzy little chorus girl.   She was a hell of a boxer, and she looked even better.

Ruby Red looked like she was fighting drunk.  She was flailing like a chicken with its head cut off, it was almost comical.  Though I wasn't looking at her,  I was looking at (Y/n), someone I was growing to admire.  

"See, boy?  What'd I tell ya?  (Y/n) knows how to give a good ass-kickin'.  Ain't no doubt about it."  Doc Louis said, unwrapping his umpteenth chocolate bar of the day.

"Damn straight.  She's a hell of a looker too."  I admitted, scratching the back of my head.

Doc gave a hearty laugh.  "Ain't no boys good 'nough for her.  The last boxer to try an' make passes got a swift kick in the basement."  

Maybe one day I'll be good enough...  I thought to myself.  

~>[*Your POV*]<~

Ruby stumbled backwards after taking a blow straight to the left boob(yes, the boob).  She made a noise that sounded like an angry dog and charged forward.  You dodged, dodged, parried, dodged, then delivered one of your famous uppercuts, thus ending the reign of the British Bitch.

The ref called for a KO, and the crowd roared.  You saw Mac in his snazzy little suit, standing beside Doc Louis.  He had tape over his eyebrow and nose, and you could still see a fading bruise under his left eye.

He was still hot as hell regardless.

Kiera pressed chaste kisses to both of your cheeks, crying "[5]Excellent, mon cher! Merveilleux!"

"Non.  Was too easy, cher." You replied, wiping the sweat from your forehead and gratefully guzzling down your water.  

Doc and Mac strolled up, squeezing past reporters and cameras to get to you.

"Not bad, honey.  I knew you'd do good."  Doc congratulated, clapping you on the back.

"Merci!"  You replied, beaming.  It was always great to hear good from old-timers and legends like Doc.

"Hi." Mac said, somewhat awkwardly.  

You smiled.  "Hello, Mac.  You are well?"

"Quite so, thanks to you.  Would've been toast had you not been there the other night."

"Oui.  You are very good boxer.  I admire you.  Same age.  Bit short."  You chuckled, shamelessly teasing him about his height.

"Hey, height is just a number, just like age." Mac said, faking hurt.

"Why don't ya come on down to the gym with us tomorrow?  Mac here's gotta train up for next month's fight."  Doc invited.

You studied Mac for a moment.  Black hair, buzzed short.  A somewhat stocky build, made up for by sparkling teal eyes and, surprisingly, perfect pearly whites.  He was certainly growing on you.

"I will see you then, oui?  Seven in the morning?"

"Sure." Mac agreed.  "See you, (Y/n)."

"Au revoir, Mac." You grinned back.


"You seem nervous, cher."  Kiera said,  looking at you in her rearview mirror.  "Something wrong?"

"Non."  You lied.  To be honest, you'd been daydreaming about Mac.  Kiera would tease you to death if she found out.

"Oui, and I am Queen of England."  She scoffed.  "Tell me, or I will find out myself."

You sighed.  Kiera simply knew you too well.  "Mac.  He is...  different.  Not like other boxer.  Other boxer rude, cocky, overbearing.  Mac is humble.  Strong-willed."  

"Sounds like you have a crush, cher.  I also see your English is getting better.  You might need that if you want to get with Mac."  Kiera teased.

"[6]I- ce qui- non!!" You spluttered, flushing crimson.  "[7]Vous êtes scandaleux!!"

Kiera burst into a fit of hysterics as she pulled into the gym parking lot.  "Don't worry, cher.  I won't tell anyone.  You will figure your feelings out eventually."

You shook your head and muttered profanities under your breath.  


"Hey, (Y/n)!" Mac called, flashing those perfectly straight teeth.  "Come on over, we were just getting started."

"Let's change it up a bit here."  Doc said.  "You two train together, and I'll talk with Miss Kiera about our different regimens."

"Alright, Doc."


You gave Mac an awkward smile and began wrapping your hands in tape.  

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa, what the hell is this?!"  

"Quelle?"  You asked, confused.  "I mean, what?"

"I mean this shitty tape job!  Here, let me see that."  Mac said, snatching the roll of tape.  

You watched as he fervently unwound your hands, then slowly and carefully re-wrapped the tape around your knuckles.  He was surprisingly gentle, despite the fact his hands were huge.  You felt Kiera's grey eyes watching you from the other side of the room, though she never stopped talking to Doc.  

"There we go."  He declared.  "Now put your gloves on, I want to see how hard you hit."

You scoffed, pulling your blue and white gloves on over your taped hands.  "Hard enough."

"Doc always says hit as hard as you can-  and then some."  

You raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he meant.  Americans were so strange...

"He means do your best, not just the bare minimum to get by.  You'll never get anywhere in life if you don't push yourself."  Mac explained, noticing your confusion.

"Oui.  Doc Louis is good mentor.  Kiera is too.  Mid-weight women's champion four time.  Retire after almost 20 year."  You replied.  

"I'm gonna be a champion one day.  I bet you will too."

You smiled, feeling your heart pick up at Mac's supportive comment.  "Merci.  I have faith in you, Mac."

"That's probably the most grammatically correct sentence I've heard you say."  

"Hey!  No judge language!  You try speak French!"


It was safe to say that you and Mac were inseparable at this point.  

You went to every one each other's matches, if you were able.  If you weren't, you'd make up for it by training together for twice the time.  You were both slowly rising to the top of your divisions.  During that time, Mac began to notice something.  

Whenever you weren't there, he lost.

It was getting to be a regular thing, and Doc was displeased.  Mac was getting told off more often than praised, since he was so distracted.  

You were getting the same treatment from Kiera.  She knew you were smitten with Mac, and she knew Mac was falling head over heels for you as well.  She even made a point to bring up the subject to Doc.

"You think the both of them are fallin' behind 'cause they like each other?"

"Oui.  (Y/n) talks about him endlessly, and always gets upset when she cannot see his fights."  

Doc sighed.  "Mac does the same thing with her.   Neither of 'em are very straightforward, and we can't make 'em be."

Kiera nodded in agreement.  "(Y/n) is home in France today.  Perhaps Mac can take a vacation and see her?  They can go to Paris.  See the Eiffel Tower.  (Y/n) has not yet seen it and I am sure Mac has not either."

"Paris is the city of love."  Doc chuckled.  "This ought to work."  


You were definitely not expecting to find Mac standing at your door in Marseille, France.  You choked on your crepes, you were so stunned.

"Easy now, don't die on me." Mac joked.  

"You surprised me."  You chided.  "What bring you to France?"

"Apparently we are being shipped off to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower."

"[8]Sûrement pas!!" You cried, gaping at him.  "Awesome!"

"Never been too fond of field trips, but if its with you, I guess I'll put up with it." Mac laughed.

You hid your blush under your (h/c) hair.  "Give time to dress and pack."

"Of course."

~>[*Mac's POV*]<~

"But if its with you I guess I'll put up with it?"  I mentally slapped myself.  What the hell kind of line is that?  

Damn her, she was too pretty.  Too perfect.  She could probably beat my ass any day of the week to boot.  I'm definitely not into the prudish whiny girls who can't get enough spine to stand up for themself.  (Y/n) was headstrong.  


The English dictionary didn't have enough words to describe her.  Maybe the French dictionary did?  Speaking of which, I should probably brush up on that.  I failed that class in high-school.

~>[*Reader's POV*]<~

Mac was way too fucking cute.

Just.  Hell no.

Those eyes on top of his personality?


You pulled on your New York Giants sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, along with your favorite boots.  They were the lace-up kind that reminded you of your boxing shoes.  You loved those shoes.

Then you stuffed a few days worth of clothes and toiletries into a giant duffel bag (much like the one you used for your boxing gear) and dashed back into the living room where Mac was waiting.  He seemed surprised at your sweatshirt.  

"Hey, I didn't know you liked the Giants."

You nodded.  "Favorite American team.  Kiera showed me your sports."

"Well, I'm from the Bronx, New York, so the Giants are my home team." Mac grinned.

"Bruiser from Bronx, oui?"

Mac laughed.  "Yeah.  Shall we go?"

~>[*Time Skip To Paris*]<~

"Wow.  It's beautiful here."  Mac said in awe.

"Yeah.  Look, Mac, you can see Eiffel Tower!" You cried, pointing at the structure in the distance.

Mac squinted at the horizon.  "Yep.  You sure can.  It's pretty big."  

"Let's go look up close!  Come on, Mac!"

You grabbed his hand and dragged him through the crowds of people, excitement taking over.  It didn't even occur to you what you were doing.  Mac felt his face turning beet red.  Your hand was awfully cold, but he held on.  


Jesus Christ, you'd gone from a mature 17 year old to an over zealous 5 year old in a span of about 5 minutes.  

Sure enough though, little white snowflakes began falling from the sky.  You and Mac finally broke through the crowds and were standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in all its glory.  

"It's magnificent." He said quietly.

So are you... You thought, squeezing his hand.

Mac shook the snowflakes out of his dark hair.  You laughed, running your fingers through your own (h/c) hair.  

He still hadn't let go of your hand.


"Yeah, (Y/n)?"

"... Je t'aime."




"I love you, idiot."

"Oh.  Uh... J... Je.."

"Je t'aime."

"Je.. t'aime."

You laughed at his struggle.  "French not easy for American boy."

"The hell it ain't.  But this is."

Mac pulled you down to his level and kissed you.  Hard.  You were stuck there for a moment, shocked.  But soon you melted into it, becoming oblivious to what was around you.

You heard someone clear their throat.

The two of you jumped back like you'd been electrocuted, only to find Doc and Kiera standing behind you.   Kiera had a huge smile, but Doc had an excellent poker face.  "I hope we're not interruptin' anythin' important here."

"Nope." You and Mac said in unison.

Doc smirked.  "Thought so.  Good on you two for workin' things out.  We finish up this vacation and it's go time back in the states."

"He's right.  We don't have long, so enjoy some relaxation while you can, cher." Kiera agreed.

"Damn right we'll be relaxing."  Mac muttered.

You snickered.

"Love sure is fierce." Doc said as you dragged Mac to the nearest café.  

"Those involved are fiercer."  Kiera noted.

"Indeed, Miss Kiera.  Indeed."
Love is Fierce - Little Mac x Reader
A little gift for :icontonystarks-girl:.  I apologize (fml I do that too much) if the characters are OOC.

[1] For Russia, and for the World Circuit!
[2] No! Get out of the way! Move!
[3] Get ready, my dove.
[4] Not tonight, bitch.
[5] Excellent, my dear! Marvelous!
[6] I- what- no!
[7] You are outrageous!
[8] No way!

I don't own you, Mac, or any of the characters therein.  Just the story ^-^
Ok so I was originally going to wait until the Blu-Ray release of Civil War before I continued writing Distorted, but now highschool is becoming a life-sucking abyss so it may be longer.  I've re-watched Civil War a few times of course, but I'll have to revisit that story and figure out what in the hell I'm gonna do with it.  
  • Listening to: Svrcina - No Matter What They Say
  • Eating: Pringles
  • Drinking: Cold Coffee


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Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
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I'm a nobody, fite me.

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sscejm4A Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fave & the watch! I appreciate it! :D :D :D
WriterAntics Featured By Owner 6 days ago
Thanks for faving my Owen Grady x reader<33
ViperPeggy Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the favorite! I appreciate it. :)
Daniela-123 Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thaaanks for the Watch! (:
Rise-Of-Majora Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2016  Student Digital Artist
Can You Write A Chris Pratt And Male Child Reader One Shot? (Just Friends)
Here Is A Info Of Him…

SneakyXWoman13 Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
I wrote one ;u;
WriterAntics Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2015
Thank you so much for the watch! It is much appreciated<333
latte-to-go Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fav! :hug:
Girl-in-Shades Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Thank you for the :+devwatch:
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