songbird. | bucky barnes x oc

𝘰𝘯𝘦 | 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴

The car sped down the highway, doing it's best to outrun the man who had begun to attack them as they drove. It swerved back and forth, dodging traffic and bullets and anything else that would ruin the escape attempt. The adrenaline pumped through their bodies, sounds of panic escaping their mouths every now and then. The road in front of them became more clear as people screamed, abandoning their cars where they lay.
There were very few sounds that could be heard; the sounds of the car behind them mixed with the sounds of their own. The discharge of bullets coming from every direction. The faint sounds of a motorcycle off in the distance. It was like a rush, some mix of fear and excitement that felt wrong in the situation.

Feet pounded atop the car roof, forcing the two passengers and one driver to look up. Bullets came through a few seconds later, forming holes in the car metal and leather seats. Windows blew out as bullets started coming from different directions, the sounds of a second gun coming into earshot. The two produced different sounds; one distinctly close, the other further away. As Sam looked out the window, he could see the faint outline of a woman, mounted on the back of a pitch black motorcycle. She disappeared in the sea of parked cars almost as quickly as she had appeared.

By the time he had looked back, the steering wheel had been ripped out of his hands and the car barreled down the highway uncontrolled. Steve's arms began to attempt to break through the passenger door, finally freeing it from its hinges. He and Natasha tumbled out together, Sam rolling across the ground soon after. The sounds of a projectile being fired rang through the thick air, causing Steve to hold the shield up on instinct.

Screeching tires drowned out the sounds of an explosion, the purring of a motorcycle engine a steady sound that rang through everyone's ears. When Steve looked up, his eyes met a strange figure.
One arm held onto the handlebar of the bike, steadying it from falling over. The other was outstretched, it's gloved grip holding the grenade that was inches away from hitting Steve's figure. Her body was clad in a tight black suit, high heeled boots running up her slender legs to her knees. Two pistols rested in holsters on her thighs, a rifle strapped to her back, and swords to accompany. Her wrists were protected by hard leather bracers that didn't go much past her forearm. Her long, night black hair cascaded freely around her face, the bottom half of which was covered by a mask.

With a voice void of any emotion, of any semblance of humanity, she spoke two short sentences that gave a grim warning.

"This is my fight. Stay out of my way."
Her hand tossed the grenade away, landing in a long deserted junkyard a few miles away. Her feet rested on the motorcycle as her hands revved the engine, filling the air with a noise that cut through the heavy tension. Exhaust clouded the air around Steve's head as she sped off down the road, heading straight down the path of the metal armed man who was now running away.

She could feel her heart pumping in quick succession, blood running through her veins as the tires made marks on the pavement. The motorcycle moved as fast as she could make it, following closely behind the man she was focused on. Gunshots took her focus away, watching one of the men she had seen before take on the soldiers a small ways away. When she turned back, she was thrown off of her mount, an explosion so loud it made her ears ring.

Her body was sent flying over the edge of the overpass, catching nothing but air as she fell. When she landed, she landed on her feet, legs steady as her knees barely buckled an inch. Her fingers had already gripped onto the guns that rested on her thighs, staring down the man who stood mere feet away from her.

She didn't draw her guns. He didn't pull the trigger. They stared at each other, holding a gaze that read an intense history with every threatening gaze. He threw the gun to the side, and as it clambered to the ground, his legs began to move towards her. Her anger bubbled over as her own moved in time, both of their paces speeding up the closer they got to each other. They were soon at a full on run towards one another, adrenaline pumping through each of their bodies.

He threw the first punch. She was barely phased when it hit her jaw, her own fist flying to land a hit against his face. She grabbed his arm before flipping herself behind him, feet pushing off his chest to complete the turn.

"We've been here before, haven't we?"
"Too many times."

He wrenched his arm from her grip, her own hand reached for the gun on her left holster. Before she could release a shot, his hand had wrapped around her wrist, squeezing it to force her to drop it. She brought her other arm down on the hand that grabbed her, swinging it down to make him let go.

"I'm not letting you go this time."
"Neither am I."

They repeated the dance they had done so many times before; a flurry of bullets and fists, accompanied by a deadly symphony of gunshots and screams. Before they knew it they had tripped one another, legs tangling together as they fell. Their masks fell off somewhere in the fray, the final stance leaving them in a compromising position of his body holding hers down by the wrists. Their chests heaved against each other, eyes boring holes into the pair that rested on the exposed face of their enemy.

Recognition.
The one word that came to each of their minds almost in sync. She watched as his pupils widened, his hands holding her wrists as her body began to shake. His body felt so familiar against hers, his smell almost intoxicating. Small bits of memories pricked at the back of her mind. His face, his voice. Reading his letters, always seeming to cheer her up. His smile the first time they met. A standing ovation as she sang. All she could remember was his face, not a shred of who he was to her and why she could recognize him so easily. Neither of them did.

He was confused, confused why the feeling of his hands on her body felt so familiar and so strange. He was confused why her face was so familiar, why he found it so beautiful. He was confused why she was shaking, why someone he had known to have such an emotionless personality would suddenly be so fearful. He was confused why he could hear her voice ring out in his brain as words she had never once spoken to him. One word rang out loudly through him.

Songbird.

"Who are you?" Her own voice sounded foreign as it exited her throat, making her squint her eyes. Before she knew how long it had been his hand had made its way down to the gun strapped to her leg, his body towering over hers as the barrel of the gun was pointed right at her forehead. Neither of them moved, just staring at the other one.

The three figures she had seen before emerged from around the corner, stopping dead in their tracks as they took in the scene. She didn't look at them; she could see their expressions in a nearby car mirror, some of shock, others of fear, even a mix of anger. The man above her looked towards them for only a moment, his eyes training back on her. His hand gripped the gun tighter but he didn't pull the trigger, only dropping it once it clattered to the ground. She stood up but didn't approach him, simply watching as he ran the other way as the woman to the left of them shot a grenade.

All she did was stand there. She looked to the group of three-one red headed, one blonde, and one African-American man-giving them a look of warning. She didn't speak a word, just picked up her mask and left the opposite direction. As she walked, one word rang heavily through her mind.

Songbird.