#Bucky/Reader

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

If I Could Melt Your Heart | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | One shot 5k

The end of the mission goes wrong when you fall through the ice. Bucky manages to get you to the safe house, unresponsive and hypothermic. Bucky worries for your safety, trying everything to warm you and melting the competitive animosity between you.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestions of sex, language and both Reader and Bucky being idiots. Flirting, frenemies to lovers nonsense, kissing. Whump, reader falls through ice, symptoms of hypothermia. Rated I and L for Idiots in Love.

Final divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The fall was easier than you thought it would be. Conditioned to have confidence in your decisions, you’d run across the ice fully expecting to reach the other side and then, just as suddenly as you’d made your decision, you were looking up at the sky between two walls of dark green water. 

The lake closed in just as fast, covering the sky, and your salvation, and panic set in, there was no air, your lungs burning from the cold and you gasped involuntarily, drinking in the crisp clean lake. It was over, the entire adventure was over, no more missions, no more tower, no more compound, no more galas and holidays and, worst of all, no more Bucky. 

No more late nights bickering over films, no more inventing reasons for him to be your partner during training, no more glances during meetings and arguments after briefing, just so he’d stay closer, just so he’d look at you a little longer. 

Despite everything you’d achieved, you’d wasted it all really, by not telling him how much you loved him. 

You closed your eyes, arms still beating in the water, heaving against the pack on your back dragging you down. 

The snow had come in fast, separating you from Sam and Steve. You'd meant to take a separate path each, converging on a safe house for extraction in the morning. Bucky had caught up with you a mile or two before. But somewhere in the storm you'd taken a wrong turn and now the darkness was closing in, your eyes fluttering closed, chest burning and Bucky still on the shore. 

Hands appeared, covered in Avengers issue gloves, one hauling you upwards, the other pushing on the clasp that held your pack and letting it fall into the water while lifting you into the biting air. A face glowed in the bright sun and you were happy to allow the angel to take you where they wanted, closing your eyes again seemed the only sensible thing to do, then at least you could dream about your regrets. 

Everything was hazy, but you knew you were being hustled into a safe house by the sound of the keypad beeping.

That's okay, maybe there's safe houses in the afterlife, maybe there's the crack of the fire and the cold won’t be so biting. 

When Bucky reached the safe house the wind had picked up, forcing him to wrestle the door open before half falling into the small porch, the wind no longer holding his weight. But he managed to keep you steady as he shuffled inside, locking the cold out behind him. 

He’d seen you go down, thinking you'd fallen, and had spotted the crack in the ice immediately after. It was clear where you’d gone wrong, leaving the track at the side of the lake, but he didn’t have time for that, he only had time to rush across the ice, sliding the last metre on his belly to stop it cracking further. 

Thankfully your pack had done its job and the two small buoyancy aids that Tony had added after the last jet crash were keeping you close to the surface. You were in shock though, eyes misty and for a heartbreaking second, as he dragged your flopping body onto the ice, Bucky wondered if he’d been too late. 

Beneath his fingers your pulse was still there, slow, but steady, and he flipped you onto your side and smacked your back as hard as he dared until you threw up the freezing water. 

He took a different way off the ice, just in case it had cracked under the soft snowfall. Carefully, he had trudged across a more dangerous ridge to reach the safe house faster, the snow storm picking up around him, aware of your solid weight on his back, his pack slung around to his front. It had still taken half an hour and all of his energy. 

By the time he’d placed you on the couch,  Bucky’s long hair was frozen at the ends where it had fallen from his black stealth issue snow hat. His lips were chapped and his shoulder ached where his prosthesis met the joint. But he could see you, and he could see you breathing and moving and you weren’t dead. 

He slumped to the floor and wiped a wet glove down his face, breathing out heavily. 

You'd argued, on the jet, about the drop site, about the evac, about the contents of your pack. There was always an argument, a bet, a challenge to be had with you, but he didn’t care as long as you were looking at him. And he’d never had the courage to tell you, to pin you to the mat when you sparred and tell you that he couldn’t go a day without seeing you. 

With another ragged breath he looked up. You were here, safe, together. 

Now what? 

Bucky called Sam and Steve’s emergency number together, hoping whoever wasn’t driving would pick up. He liked Sam and he trusted his medical judgement and while the tension in their friendship was easing, it was still easier with Steve around too. 

“That you, Buck?” Sam said, there was a distinct hum from the truck in the background that told Bucky they were on their way at least. Help is coming, Bucky told himself, you don’t have to take care of her alone, help is coming. 

“Bucky?” The side of Steve’s head appeared on the video call and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Thank god you picked up, things went from shit to worse out there, she fell through the fucking ice. Managed to get her out but she coughed up a helluva lot of water and now she’s all -” he looked behind him at your floppy hands and droopy eyelids, “she doesn’t look right, she isn’t talking, can’t stay awake.” Bucky rambled, his Brooklyn drawl appearing again through his worry. His words were getting mixed, he could feel them, heavy on his tongue, hypothermia? Something else? What had he been taught in basic training?

“Look, don’t get excited,” Sam said, pausing slightly, the howl of the snow storm still evident behind him. “But I need you to take off any wet layers she’s wearing, she could get hypothermia and her being unresponsive isn’t a good sign.” 

“Why would that get me excited?” Bucky said, indigent but propping the phone up so he could start unzipping your coat. 

On the video Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see anything out of the truck windows, the snowstorm made everything static, but the video kept trying to focus anyway.

“Just do it, Buck, okay. There should be some spare clothes somewhere, if she needs them.” 

Bucky peeled back your sopping coat and set about removing your snow boots. Underneath you were wearing waterproof trousers, a thick thermal sweater and long sleeved standard issue t-shirt and leggings, also wet. He sat back, peeling the leggings from around your ankles. At least you had one dry shirt on but it was so small, just a strappy vest as your first layer and there were already goosebumps rising on the skin around your shoulders and collarbone. 

Bucky snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushed, and stood, searching for spares, coming up short. 

“There’s nothing here -”  he groused, standing his phone up against the empty fireplace while he searched. 

“Check the bathroom, they normally leave sweat shirts and things by the towels.” 

Bucky gave you one last look and left the room in search of something to keep you warm. 

Your eyes felt so heavy, your head full of lead and your arms and legs weighed down. Your throat burned and tasted awful, worse than the pack rations you’d eaten before you’d set off on the last leg of your walk to the cabin. 

The memory of the water washed over you and your arms flew out, grasping for the ratty sofa cushions.

You were safe. 

Everyone else must have made it too because you could hear Sam and Steve talking, saying something about Bucky. 

Blinking your eyes you were sure they were sat by the fire, maybe they’d light it soon, you were so cold. 

Bucky returned with a blanket and socks, sweat pants and towels and dropped them on the floor by the couch. It was one thing to find supplies, quite another to get you changed, he felt bad enough about taking your outer layers off. 

At some point during his search Sam and Steve must have dropped off the call, the phone now laying quiet on the hearth. 

He’d get you dressed and then worry about a fire.

The sweat pants were fine, they were loose and pulled up easily over your hips, the socks and towels warmed your feet slowly. But your shoulders and chest were still uncovered and he could see you starting to shiver. That was at least a good sign, your nerves were working and you were responding correctly to sensory input - but he couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking he pulled his henley off and sat you up, carefully placing it over your head and manoeuvring your arms until you were covered. 

You let out a deep sigh, smiling in your sleep. Bucky didn’t want to think about the way you seemed to snuggle into the collar, it was just body heat, that’s all, that’s all you needed. 

Bucky tucked you back in, being careful to tuck the soft edges of the shirt between your bare skin and the rough wool of the blanket. This was not the way he wanted to see or touch you like this for the first time. He sat with his back to the sofa, gun across his lap and trained his eyes on the door. 

Bucky’s eyes were open in half a second, body crouched, gun extended into the darkness until he noticed his phone lit up beside him, vibrating against the aching joints in his shoulders. 

“Hey, Buck, hows it going?.” Steve asked from the gloom of the truck’s cabin. Sam must have taken over the driving, Steve never used his phone behind the wheel. “We should be with you in the morning.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” Bucky let his head flop back against the sofa and instantly regretted it when he felt the softness of your thighs behind him. 

Sam’s voice was an echo on the line,“tell me what’s going on?”

“I took her uniform off like you said and she was awake very briefly, just eyes open then closed, but she’s been asleep awhile.”

“Awake is good, right?” Steve asked and Sam hummed in agreement. 

“Hey man, you need to get some rest too, okay. No falling asleep by accident, get in the bed or under a blanket and really sleep,” Sam scolded, it rankled Bucky sometimes, how well Sam really knew him, but he was grateful for this new team as well. 

“I shouldn’t I -” the words ‘I don’t deserve to rest’ were so close to stumbling past his lips. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head to the wood beamed roof. 

“Look punk, whatever stupid thing you two were arguing about, it’s not your fault she got hurt, okay?” Steve’s voice was sterner now, demanding attention. 

“It was a bet,” Bucky admitted, weakly. “I bet her I could get here first and when I did I’d get the bed and the blankets. She was rushing because of me, she took a stupid fucking risk because she thought she’d have nowhere to sleep.” Bucky bit his cheek, the tang of blood staining his tongue. 

“For gods sake, Buck, that’s not your fault, she made her own choices -” 

“She’d have made better ones if I wasn’t such an asshole, what would my Ma ? Making a bet like that, you know I’d never have let her go cold.”

In your sleep your hands inched forwards, searching for something. The tips of your fingers found his earlobe and then, with a hum, you tucked your hand between his cold, bare, back and the sofa. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would’ve tanned your hide from here to Coney Island. But I know, I know you would never have let her suffer, you were playing games and makin’ stupid bets because you respect her as your equal. She’d be just as mad if she though you were goin’ easy on her.” 

He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself or make it better that didn’t involve him punishing himself somehow, so he said nothing. 

“Just hang on until the morning, okay. I’ll send over some more information on hypothermia in case we lose contact. But you just have to get through to the morning and then we can take over.” 

“Shouldn’t we get her to the compound now?” Bucky didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice, you hadn’t fought him off, complained, made a sarcastic comment or done any of your usual ridiculous arguing when he’d helped you. It wasn’t right. 

“No, no, best thing is to let her sleep and warm up. She’s fine. You need to sleep though, properly, on a soft surface.”

“Floors aren’t soft surfaces!” Sam shouted. 

“Okay, but -” Bucky paused and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Just sleep, Buck.” If Bucky was worried, Steve was amused, unable to keep the smile from his voice as he said goodbye. 

You were still underwater, you were sure from the way all the voices in your head sounded muffled. But then you could smell Bucky’s shampoo, so maybe everything was okay after all.

“Hey, are you awake,” Bucky’s voice was so far away, like listening through a bubble, “if you’re awake you should eat something and then I can take your temperature again.” 

There was a movement, an earthquake, but the water didn’t move, there was no water anymore, just the cushion, the lap, the arm, the hand. You clung to the arm, but it didn’t yield under your fingers, it was solid and whirring and - 

“Hmmm, Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling back into his hold. 

“No, come on, sit up, time to eat.” Why was the world moving, tilting? The voice was louder now, clearer. 

“Buh-” The words were gone again, the world was quiet again, blissful sleep with Bucky’s hand in yours. 

Sam’s face appeared on the phone screen, sleep in his eyes while Bucky gave him an update. He’d decided to stay awake, insisting he’d nap in the truck when they moved on in the morning. As soon as you’d started talking he’d called Sam and Steve to check on you. 

“She was slurring a bit. She wasn’t shivering but I think she’s warmer.”

“You think she’s warmer?,” Sam cut over Steve, looking pointedly at Bucky. “Feel her back and chest.”

“Her chest…” Bucky looked down at you, curled into his t-shirt, eyelids fluttering in your sleep. “She’s wearing clothes.” 

Bucky’s hand was still on your cheek and you turned into the touch, a small smile gracing your lips. 

“Bucky just put your hand on her collar,” Steve suggested.

“Awh, Buck, are you nervous around her, that’s so cute.” Sam teased and Steve scoffed at him. The line went quiet, but he could still make out some muffled arguing. 

He ignored them, sliding his left hand down to your collarbone, gently tucking his fingers under the collar of the t-shirt. His left hand was surprisingly sensitive and he could feel the prickle of your heat, you were definitely warmer than you had been. Your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, his thumb rubbed higher, feeling your pulse in your neck as well. 

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Steve sighed and Bucky snatched his hand away as if he’d been caught, “but if you can get her to have some soup that would be great -” 

“We have to do something else.” Bucky knew he sounded panicked, but he didn’t care. Hypothermia could be deadly and there was no way he was losing you. “She’s still asleep, she should be coming round.”

“There's not much more we can do,” Sam's voice was sleepy. “Sit with her, if she wakes up, get her to eat something and try to keep her awake. Steve and will get there as soon as we can. In the meantime, there may be one more thing you could try -” Sam’s eyes lit up and Bucky just knew he was in trouble somehow. 

Body heat, that’s what Sam had said.

“You need to get under a blanket with her properly, keep her warm.” Sam suggested.

“You mean cuddle.”

“Fine, cuddle, would that be the end of the world?” He’d rolled his eyes and Bucky had felt a sort of sick feeling inside. He’d love to cuddle you, actually, would love to feel your body close to him without the threat of you pulling a training knife or trying to flip him on his back again. But he just can’t.

He stared at you, replaying Sam’s words over and over. Bodyheat, it’s the only thing for it now the fire was roaring again and the huge blanket was folded over twice. Why weren’t you waking up? Why were you still so cold to the touch? 

He lay down, rearranging the blanket over you both and let his right arm fall over your waist, pulling you closer. 

The fire crackled, the snow fell in quiet drifts by the windows and for a moment he could pretend that this was all normal. Just you taking a nap on a winter evening. Would you nap in your clothes? Or would you change into your pyjamas early on in the day and stay like that. Would you fall asleep as easily in his apartment? Would you want to stay?

The snow had stopped again, banked up against the windows in what would have been a wonderful Christmas scene, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s tactical comms were blinking with a new message but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His head was clearer from having slept, but the feel of your hand sitting low on his hip, your body perfectly aligned with his and, crucially, your face so close, lips brushing his cheek, had his thoughts reeling again. 

You stirred, nuzzling closer and placing a sleepy kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s heart sank, who did you think he was? 

“Hmm, where are we?” Your eyes were closed still, but at least your hand was hot against his skin and you were talking, cogent. 

“You fell through the ice, I'm trying to get you warm. How do your toes and fingers feel?” He whispered. 

You stretched your hands out in front of you, wiggling your fingers at him, “they did hurt, ugh, they hurt so bad,” there was a sad whine in your voice that made Bucky want to right every wrong you’d ever endured. You just sounded so small, so vulnerable for a change. “But they don't hurt anymore.” Your eyes drifted closed again and Bucky bit his lip, it really was now or never. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on your face. 

“You cracked the ice?” 

“No, but you wouldn’t have gone over it if we hadn’t made that stupid bet.” 

“Oh -” and then you laughed. 

“Why are you laughing, this is really serious, you could’ve died.” His breath caught in his throat, you were laughing and moving and his chest was still bare and you were in his t-shirt, pushing yourself against him with every movement. 

“It’s not your fault though you idiot.” You smacked his chest playfully and he caught your hand, holding it tight. 

“Are you feelin’ okay now?” His eyes darted over your face, taking in your pupils - slightly too dilated, your skin felt flush now which was good, but you couldn’t look at him properly. “You’re not concussed, your pupils are -” his fingers lingered on your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken. 

You pulled away, “I’m fine, I just needed to sleep it off I guess. Where are we?”

You took in the cabin, the little bed in the corner, stripped of its blankets. There was a fire still in the grate and evidence of Bucky eating, judging by the little ration packets scattered next to the sofa. Your tactical gear was drying over the back of a chair and Bucky’s was arranged neatly by the door. 

“We made it to the safe house, you were really close, you would’ve won.” Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes had looked when he’d held you, the light hadn't changed, you hadn’t moved your body, the only thing that had changed was his touch.

“Good, I knew I would, slow old man.” You laughed and it was such a relief to hear you happy, safe, Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where are Sam and Steve?”

Still driving, there was a snowstorm so god knows when they'll get here now.” 

“Better get some rations together then, I'm starving.” 

You wriggled off the couch and stood, eyeing up the kitchenette. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was trying to keep his eyes from straying to you. The sweat pants were far too big, sliding down over your hips, as we're the socks which pooled around your ankles. You looked so…cute.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, why don’t you rest?” He pushed the blankets and towels off the worn couch and tried to steer you away from the kitchenette. 

“Bucky I’m not dead, I was fine, I can make some-” you turned the can over in your hands, it sloshed, but there was nothing on the label, “mystery soup.” 

“No, you’re not dead, but -” 

“You wish I was, blah blah blah.” You laughed making your hand talk along with your words. 

“No, No -” Through your laugh, Bucky’s voice was laced with distress. “I never wanted you to get hurt.” 

He dodged around you, trying to get you to slow down and look at him but you were turning a pan over in your hands, deciding if it was too rusty for cooking with. 

“I know, you just wanted to win. No hard feelings, Buck. We’ll pick a winner next time.” 

You were determined to carry on like this then, with your arguing and betting and banter. Even though Bucky had sat with you through the night, certain you were going to die and it was entirely his fault that you’d die without knowing you were the one who kept him going. 

“I don’t want there to be a next time.” He said, plainly. 

“Oh, right, well, I guess we can just ask to be placed on different teams. If that’s what you want.” Suddenly the laughter had stopped and it was like you'd been dipped in ice again, the atmosphere was frosty and tense. 

“No, for god's sake, that's not what I mean. Fuck, I'm messing this up!” Bucky grumbled, making a grab for you.

“Hey!” You tried to dodge again, but he took your hands and pulled you close. 

“I don't want there to be a next time because I never want you to be in danger because of me. There won't be a next time because I was so scared I was going to lose you without telling you…”

“Telling me…what?”

“That you make all of this worthwhile.” He said, the tension leaving his body. “I couldn't imagine training without you, dinners and galas and missions. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be worth it if you weren't there too.”

“Bucky-”

“You don't have to say anything, I just needed to tell you.” He dropped your hands and turned, “I'm going to go and call Sam and Steve, see if they're nearly here for evac.”

But you heard the water turn on and knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was having one of his angry, ‘wash away the argument’ showers that infuriated you so much when you had to share a hotel room or a safe house or when you followed him to his room to continue whatever ridiculous argument you’d both cooked up.

You continued stirring the soup slowly. Soup was really all you could find that didn’t make you feel sick just from reading the label, and you bent over the stove allowing the steam to warm your fingers and cheeks. 

The door to the bathroom slammed and you turned to see the light spilling from under the door. What did he mean ‘you make all of this worthwhile’. He was messing around, right? All the bets and fights, the arguments. He liked to get under your skin because, well, he clearly didn’t like you very much. 

You dropped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, letting the too short handle slowly drown in the now spitting hot soup. 

But you liked him. Your heart had been pounding when he touched you and now your mind was racing at the thought of him even more than tolerating you. 

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the cabin and hammering on the bathroom door. 

Bucky’s face was flush when he opened the door, pink staining his cheeks and blending with the faint lines on his face where he’d been cut during your mission.

He said nothing. 

“Tell me what you meant.” You demanded, trying to keep your eyes up. It was difficult, Bucky had stripped off already, you’d sparred enough times to know what his chest felt like, it seeing might actually tip you over the edge. 

“Don’t do this.” He grumbled, “just leave me alone.” 

He went to close the door but you pushed your flat palm against the wood, “Bucky you can’t go saying shit like that and then walk off and make it my fault.” 

“I can’t deal with it today, okay? I pulled your lifeless fucking body from underneath a sheet of ice. I thought you were dead, okay, dead.”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyes and you could see how dark they were underneath, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“I carry you back here and - god - you were so cold, freezing, and I stripped all those clothes off thinking ‘Bucky she’s going to kill you’ and then you wanted to hold me while you slept. And you could’ve died, I thought you had died, and it’d be my fault because I made a fucking bet with you just so you’d talk to me and smile at me and I wanted you to win, I really did, because when you win you look at me and your eyes sparkle and I can pretend its because of me -” he took a breath, shocked that he’d allowed such a stark confession out. But he was so tired and - 

“It is you.” You whispered, “if my eyes sparkle -” your lips quirked up at the corner, “if they do it is because of you. I like when you make bets with me because then I know you’ll be thinking about me. I like when we fight because you touch me and I can pretend it's because you want to and -” 

Your thoughts were cut off by Bucky wrapping his arms around your back, his hands were wide on your shoulders when he pulled you up and into him, kissing you hard enough to bruise. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” his eyes were still full of emotion, his eyes piercing, it still felt warm to be under his gaze but there was something extra something more in your honesty that had you pressing your lips to his again. 

“I fucking love you too.” You confessed against his mouth and jumped into his arms.

Bucky stumbled out from the bathroom, balancing you on his hips so his hands could cradle your back, pressing you close. Between you he could feel how soft your breasts were, peaked nipples hard and your heartbeat fast.

Your chest heaved, pulling back for breath with a huge smile, a laugh in the corner of your mouth.

"We've been so stupid."

"Uh -huh," Bucky knelt, lowering you to pile of blankets that had been kicked off the sofa so recently, "stupid, yeah." He went back to kissing you, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to trace over every curve of your body.

"I've waited so long to have you like this," he murmered, lips brushing your own, "and you've been so sick, I can wait a while longer."

Bucky pulled away, but you tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down with you.

"If you think you're leaving me now," you groaned, "you're very much mistaken."

Bucky's smile turned almost feral, his pupils wide and eyes roving your face for any sign of discomfort.

"I'll be very -"

"Bucky,"

"Hmm?" He was lost in touching you again,

"Just fuck me."

He seemed to lose all control, crushing a kiss against your lips and letting the hands that had been so gentle grip you even tighter, his finger pads digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, tipping your hips up so he could grind his hard cock against you.

"Is that an M249 in your -"

"I'm just very pleased to see you," he countered, smiling into your kisses.

You laughed, the fire of your sparing still there in the way he hiked your leg over his hip, and you remembered all the times he'd rolled you over on the mats just like this, your breath fanning over his cheek and his body so close to yours.

"Can't promise it's as big though."

You slid your hand into his tight tactical trousers and squeezed the still growing bulge beneath, "I dunno, Buck, pretty close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

His kisses slowed and he pulled back, brushing a hand down your cheek, "me too."

Sam was exhausted when he pulled the truck up to the safe house, Steve was dosing in the passenger seat after his stint at driving and Sam was looking forward to his own sleep before they made their way to the evac point. 

He shoved the door open, expecting to see the familiar sight of you bickering over cards but -

“Sam!” Bucky shouted, throwing a blanket over your naked body and accidentally exposing himself in the process. “Get out!” 

You laughed, clinging to Bucky’s arm in peels of laughter. 

“Steve!” Sam shouted as he retreated, “you owe me twenty dollars! And Bucky owes me an hour with his therapist” 

“He can have whatever he wants as long as I get to keep you.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek. 

“That’s so cheesy, Bucky, gross.” Your laughter turned into giggles. 

“You love it.” He kissed you again and your lips parted in anticipation. 

“Hmm, I guess I do…” You let him push you back into the blankets, kissing down your neck before- �� I bet you I can get dressed faster!”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Car Rides

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.

Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!

~*~

"Can you move your seat up?"

There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."

Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.

He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.

"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.

"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.

"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."

"Yes ma'am."

You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"

Foolproof! Brilliant!

Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.

Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.

Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.

Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.

It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?

Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.

You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.

The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.

After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.

Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.

The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.

And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.

Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.

Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.

You're caught now.

Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.

Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.

You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.

Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.

Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.

"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.

You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.

"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.

He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.

"Clears the head."

You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.

"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.

He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.

He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.

It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.

"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.

"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.

"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."

"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.

Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.

"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.

You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.

He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.

He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.

Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.

He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.

"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.

Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.

"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.

"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.

Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.

He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.

You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.

He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.

With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."

His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.

Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.

He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.

The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.

Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.

He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.

His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.

You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.

Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.

You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.

He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.

Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.

Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.

As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.

[volklana]

Been Far Away For Far Too Long

Thunderbolts*/New Avengers Bucky x Reader:

Title Comes From This Song:

Summary: After losing Steve, Bucky walked away from the person he loved the most, terrified he would lose them too. So he left first, breaking both their hearts in the process. So when he gets catapulted into the world of the New Avengers and she is the only person he thinks can help Bob, he is forced to swallow his shame and ask for her help.

Warnings: Grief

The talk with Sam had not gone well, that was all Bucky was willing to share with them and Yelena bit worriedly at her cheek.

Ava was staring out across the New York skyline and even Walker was remarkably quiet for once.

The New Avengers, that’s what people were calling them and Bucky hated it. 

Hated that he should have any association with a name that had meant so much to Steve, but he was not here to see it.

Sam was Captain now, Walker was a dollar store, shitty version of him and none of the former team were here to help.

“You should call her,” Sam had berated Bucky in a disappointed tone and Bucky couldn’t face it at the time, couldn’t face the reminder that you were out there in the world somewhere and he didn’t know you anymore.

“She wouldn’t answer,” he offered meekly and Sam shook his head in agreement.

“Probably not, but you should try.”

He slank back onto the settee and Yelena looked at his tired form and bumped him with her shoulder.

“We’re going to figure it out,” she tried to reassure but Bucky suddenly felt very much his age of over 100 years.

The sky was dull and grey, it had been threatening to rain all day but still no downpour came, just an unrelenting dreariness that very much matched the mood Bucky had been carrying with him the last few days.

His footsteps were slow, deliberate and pronounced. He wanted you to hear him coming.

He didn’t want to startle you, he knew you well enough to know better than to do that.

You didn’t turn around immediately but he knew from the way you stiffened, from the way you readied yourself for a fight that he was behind you.

“Did you track me here?” you spat, still refusing to turn around.

“Yes,” he admitted weakly.

You turned with a snarl and Bucky actually took a step back.

“You followed me here? Where he lies? How dare you! How dare you ambush me here of all places.” 

Just behind your shoulder Bucky saw the inscription Steve Rogers and immediately tore his eyes away, unable to look upon the stone for too long.

You were seething, chest rising and falling rapidly with an anger you were trying your very best to keep in check.

“I’m surprised you even remember where he is buried,” you spat and his face fell.

“That’s not fair,” he pleaded but you waved a hand to dismiss him and his protests died on his lips.

You turned away from him again, running your hands through your hair and sniffing loudly, visibly trying to calm yourself down.

“Y/n,” he tried desperately and you cut him off -

-”I should punch you in your throat. I want to, so bad. But not here.”

“Please, I just want to talk,” Bucky pleaded and this time when you turned to face him the anger was gone, in its place was an expression of hurt and betrayal that absolutely broke his heart in two, and you nodded as tears gathered in your eyes.

“You want to talk?” you laughed bitterly, “You had years to talk Buck, and not so much as a goddamn text did I get from you. When I really needed you, and you were nowhere to be found. But now you want to talk?” 

“I really need your help.” he cried and the vulnerability in his voice almost made you falter. Almost.

“Of course you do. So that’s the truth of it, you’re here because you need me. Not because you missed me, or you’re sorry. Because you need me,” you paused for a beat and a single tear slid down your cheek and you wiped it away harshly, “Well you didn’t need me when Steve was dying. When you and Sam went on your little flagsmashers campaign, and you certainly didn’t need me on your run for parliament, Congressman Barnes. So what is so important now that you suddenly need my help?” 

“I couldn’t-” Bucky swallowed hard, shaking his head ferociously, “I couldn’t face it. Losing him. And you just reminded me of everything that could have been, so I just stayed away, I thought if I did that- it would hurt less. And then I lost you, you were so angry with me and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“And I lost Nat. And Tony. And Steve and when I needed you the most, I lost you! I forgave you when you left me for Wakanda, even though I became a criminal to rescue you in the first damn place. I grieved you every single day you were gone during the blip. I went through hell and back to bring you back to us. I fought against Thanos and I watched my friends die and when I needed you the most you were nowhere to be found. All I ever did was love you and put my life on the line to look after you, but when I needed you the most you did your biggest disappearing act of all.”

Bucky didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say to make any of his actions forgivable. 

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and Bucky felt like you were looking right through him. He was trying to read the expression on your face, it wasn’t hurt anymore, or anger, it was something worse- much worse than that, it was a mixture of understanding and pity.

“You’re stuck in a cycle of shame, and for years I thought I could set you free from it, but I can see so clearly now, you only let me in when your need outweighs your shame.”

Bucky stiffened as white hot shame coursed through his body, because you were right. Always had been right, and you remained the only person who could look right through him and read him like a book, and there had been a time when you loved him for it anyway, back before he destroyed it all.

You were calm, eerily calm when you spoke again.

“If you say you need me, really need me. I will help. But I want to make something very clear. I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again. Anything I do for you now is out of respect for the man lying behind me, because I made him a promise that I would always look out for when he was gone.”

Bucky sniffed, tears racing to his own eyes but he nodded in understanding.

“I need to hear you say that you understand that,” you demanded and he cleared his throat and even though his voice was raspy and small he answered.

“I understand.” 

As the elevator dinged you stepped inside and immediately felt like the wave of nostalgia that hit you was going to drown you.

Visions of eating breakfast with Steve and Nat at the breakfast bar.

Tony tinkering with some update to his suit, or sipping a martini because “It’s happy hour somewhere right?” 

The parties, the training sessions, the everyday mundane activities like watching movies, or listening to music with Steve.

And then the destruction Loki had caused during the Chitauri invasion of New York, before you had all moved out to the Avengers compound.

Now you looked at the new faces gathered around you and scoffed.

“The New Avengers,” you sneered and bit out a laugh.

“We didn’t choose the name,” Walker spat defensively and you rounded on him, looking him up and down in disdain, “You dollar store, wannabe Steve Rogers, you could never-”

“Woah! Woah!” Bucky was interjecting and your staredown only ended when you tore your eyes away in disgust.

“I see you all the time,” Yelena spoke softly and your eyes softened on her and you nodded, “At her grave, I see you there.”

“I’m so sorry,” your face crumpled and you reached a hand out to her, which she squeezed “She was like a sister to me, I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

She surged forward and embraced you and for a moment you allowed yourself to be engulfed in her warmth before you pulled away.

“Okay, where is he?” you asked and Bucky nodded his head to where Bob was hanging back in front of the huge window, the New York skyline laid out behind him.

“You’re here to help me?” he asked bashfully.

“I’m here to try,” you couldn’t promise him anything but he was the reason Bucky had been willing to swallow his pride and seek you out so you had to try.

“I’m assuming the lab is still where it used to be?” you asked and then laughed in understanding at the fact none of them had been here back in the heyday.

“Right, I will suss it out. Bob, you are coming with me!” you ordered and he sprung into action following you like a scolded puppy.

“Yelena?” he asked, voice unsure and when you consented with a nod, she smiled softly, “I will follow you down.”

“Well. She’s kind of a dick,” Walker stated once the elevator doors had closed.

“Watch your mouth,” Bucky warned.

“I mean he’s not wrong Barnes,” Ava joined in, “We didn’t exactly choose the name, and it’s not our fault we weren’t part of the original lineup.”

Bucky’s heart ached for the girl you used to be. You used to light up every single room you walked into. You ran headfirst into danger to protect anyone who needed it. You followed Steve halfway across the world to save Bucky. You had rotted in the raft with Sam, until Steve had managed to break you out. You had loved him when he was nothing but a shell of a man, waking up at night screaming into the dark, you had kissed away every nightmare, every worry. He could still remember the tears in your eyes as you watched him go back into cryo in Wakanda, your hand clasped tightly in Steve’s. 

Your horrified face as he transformed into dust still haunted Bucky’s dreams and yet your face when you saw him on the battlefield when all the people who Thanos had erased returned during the Blip, as you ran across the field to grasp him and kiss him wherever your lips could land, you had fought side by side the rest of the battle and that night you had made love until he physically could not move anymore.

“She’s been through a lot,” Yelena broke the silence “Give her a break.” 

It had been days of working with Bob, but you mainly kept yourself to yourself.

Yelena was the only person you really warmed to and even Bucky was keeping his distance.

He was out on the roof, looking out towards the skyline of New York and Yelena saddled out beside him.

“You should talk to her,” she tried softly and Bucky shook his head.

“Too much has happened. I can’t make it right.”

“Bucky, you have not tried,” she cried and he bit his lip.

“She made it clear that she was here to do this job, and she wants me to stay away so that’s what I’m doing.”

Yelena cursed under her breath in Russian.

“Idiot. You have never pushed someone away when all you wanted was for them to pull you close and tell you they love you?”

Bucky looked like he wanted to argue but she cut him off.

“She’s fighting with you all the time because she wants you to fight for her!” 

It suddenly hit Bucky like a freight train, he had never truly fought for you, not really.

From the very first day you had given yourself to him, he was so afraid of losing you, he realised he had never truly fought to keep you. He had always been so convinced you would leave him that he left first, he left first so it would hurt less, but all it had done was cause you both a world of pain.

His thoughts were disrupted by Bob erupting out onto the roof, “You have to come it’s y/n, I think she’s having a panic attack.”

Bucky found you under the table in the lab, hands clasped over your ears, rocking in place, tears streaming down your face.

“Shh, doll. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you!” he pulled you to him and he had been expecting you to push him away, but instead you curled into him and clung to him like a child.

He held you for what felt like hours, even when the tears had subsided, you allowed him to hold you as he gently swayed you in comfort, pressing kisses to your head and whispering reassurances into the air.

I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you. For us,” he finally whispered, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

It came out so small and broken that Bucky nearly missed it, “I didn’t need you to be anything. I just needed you, and you left me on my own.”

Bucky knew this was his last chance to be honest with you, to tell you the truth of the pain behind the reason he thought he was doing the right thing in letting you go.

“When I knew I was losing Steve, I was so angry at the world. What else did the universe want from me, what else could it possibly take away from me? You were the only thing I had left, and I just knew- I knew with my whole entire being that I was going to lose you too. I kept imagining it over and over again- you leaving me and seeing me for what I really am. And I guess I thought if I was the one to leave. If it was my decision to leave, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

You didn’t say anything, just clung to him like you were afraid if you let go he would vanish.

“But losing you that way- and knowing that I tore us apart with my own bare hands, it was despicable, especially when you were grieving so much loss already and all I did was add to it. It was unforgivable and I knew I couldn’t come back from that. I was so ashamed, I didn’t even try.”

“Bob pulled me into the void- it was my fault, I pushed him too hard. Every room. Every single room was losing you. Not Nat, or Steve or Tony, not even my past, but you. You should have trusted me to stay. You should have tried again. Even when you fucked everything up- I still loved you.”

“Am I too late?” he asked gently, squeezing you in his arms.

You suddenly erupted into tears and nodded in his arms “I think so. I don’t think there’s anything left to fix, I’m not the girl you loved anymore, I’m mean. I’m cynical and I’ve been alone for so long I don’t know how to love again, or if I even can.” 

“I won’t ask you to love me again- I don’t deserve that. But would you let me be there for you again? Put down all that loneliness you’ve been carrying around with you and let me carry it some?” 

You nodded in his arms and curled back into his chest.

“I’m tired,” you admitted and he wordlessly gathered you up into his arms and carried you out of the lab, up into the comfort of his bed and lay you down gently before climbing onto the bed too.

Neither of you spoke, just lay staring up at the ceiling, hands clasped in each other's, until your breathing evened out and your gentle snores filled the room, and the tears fell from Bucky’s eyes, soaking his pillow and threatening to drown him.

You sat up in the bed suddenly and reached for him “Hey!” you whispered, but he was refusing to look at you and you were by his side in an instant, you flicked on his bedside lamp and the soft warm light flooded the room.

You cupped his face in your hands and forced him to look at you.

“I missed you so much,” he confessed through the tears and your face twisted in utter confliction.

Just today you thought you hated him, now all you wanted was to comfort him and tell him that everything was going to be okay but you couldn’t make promises you weren’t sure you could keep.

You hated the way your body yearned for him, ached for him to take you in his arms like he used to and kiss you until you couldn’t think straight.

“Bucky,” you whimpered and he was surging forward grasping you and kissing you like his life depended on it.

You couldn’t think straight, didn’t want to fight against it anymore and so you gave in to the longing you had been suppressing for years- gave into your need for him.

It was a tango of bruising kisses and desperate grasping.

It wasn’t gentle or slow, it  was a frantic fray of ripped clothes, popped buttons and at times you struggled for air. It was like your bodies were fighting to reclaim something they had been trying in vain to forget for years.

Your fingers dug into his skin, like you were afraid if you let go he would disappear in your hands, his teeth dug into the soft skin of your shoulder, his fingers twisted up into your hair, exposing more of your delicate neck to him and he attached his lips to the skin there.

The air was thick with the smell of sweat and sex and when you finally couldn’t hold back anymore you came around him and he gasped, you name spilling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he finally released inside you.

Neither of you moved, limbs still tangled together as he softened inside you, hand still fisted into your hair.

You looked like you were about to cry for a moment before you finally found the strength to climb off him and collapsed on the bed beside him.

The air was thick now with the unspoken.

You were afraid if you said anything, he would cut and run, he was afraid if he said the wrong thing you would hate him again.

“I hate this,” you finally spoke breaking the tension, “I hate that I still want you after everything you did.”

Bucky braced himself like he had been punched in the gut.

“What does this mean?” he asked, voice unsure, “Surely this changes things. Surely this means we still need each other.” 

“I don’t know Buck,” you cried. “I thought I had buried this. Buried us. And I don’t know if those feelings can just change overnight.”

“What if I told you my feelings for you had never changed,” he whispered to the ceiling.

“Don’t-” you cut him off “Just...Don’t do this tonight.”

He conceded and pulled you to him, switching his lamp off, feeling more tired than he had in years.

“Can we please talk about this tomorrow?” he pleaded “Really talk about it?”

You nodded against his chest and he had to accept that was the best he deserved at the moment.

The next morning you were gone and Bucky felt a crushing emptiness in his core, he snuck out of the tower, got onto his bike and roared off into the morning.

He read the name on the stone Steve Rogers and allowed  the tears to fall as he hunkered down and grasped the stone with his flesh hand.

“What the hell do I do punk? You risked everything for love and I couldn’t even show up for her when she needed me the most. But I love her, I really fucking love her and this whole time I thought I was doing the right thing but all it did was hurt us both.” 

He tried to imagine what Steve would say, tried to conjure up his voice in his mind but all he heard was the wind rustling through the trees and he sighed.

“She lied,” a voice behind him startled him nearly to death and he stood to his full height and whirled around only to come face to face with you.

“When she told you she didn’t love you anymore, that she could never love you again. She lied.”

Bucky’s face crumpled, sadness etched across his features and you nodded.

“She lied because she was scared. But she’s tired of lying and tired of being alone. So if she trusts you, and she so desperately wants to, don’t you dare leave her again.”

Bucky rushed forward and scooped you into his arms, lifting you clean off the ground with the strength he held you with.

“I don’t want empty promises,” you cried and he shook his head quickly.

“You won’t get them, I won’t promise anything I don’t mean.”

“Don’t leave me on my own again!” you cried and he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

“Never again I promise.” 

“It’s going to take some time, Bucky. I’ve got to learn to open up my heart again and I am still terrified you are going to cut and run.”

“I can wait as long as it takes,” he promised, placing the gentlest kiss to your lips and rejoiced internally when you kissed him back.

“I loved you all along,” he finally admitted, pulling away to look into your eyes, “No matter the distance, no matter how far away I was. I never stopped loving you. None of this was because I didn’t love you, it was because I was terrified you would stop loving me.”

“I went to hell and back for you Buck, nothing could have ever stopped me loving you. Even when I hated you...I loved you.”

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helen-2003 shortnloud scott-loki-barnes @whitedarkmoonflower @thenameswinter99 @winterslove1917

[broodybuck]

Title: Through Your Window

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, masturbation, horny Bucky Barnes, stalker Bucky Barnes, pining, couch sex, Inspired by You (TV 2018)

Summary: Bucky finds a new muse from his window and it's you. He's captivated from the first moment he sees you but can't imagine he could ever have you.

[ao3 link]

He tries not to stare but he's been trained to observe. To hide in the shadows and watch. He's partially hidden behind the curtain of his window but he should conceal himself fully if he wants to keep his eyes on you.

You're not looking, you're distracted, treading around the apartment while collecting items here and there. You are across the alleyway in the building opposite his. It feels like a cruel gift. You're right in his view, he doesn't even need to strain to see you. He merely needs to walk to his window and watch.

Today, you're cleaning clutter from your living room. To put these items away means that you're bending down, arching at your hips, reaching over your head. It's allowing him to see every curve on you, especially with the sheer blouse and tight jeans you're wearing.

Why would you wear that, Bucky wonders. To entice him... that shirt is so sheer, he can see your bra. It's light pink and lacy. He licks his lips staring at it. His skin burns. He can't move. He's frozen, fixated on you until you walk out of his line of sight away from the windows. He sighs quietly to himself.

This is unfair, he decides. He hasn't looked at a woman since he's gotten free. Now, he found you. Your apartment is perfectly visible from his kitchen window. You, who leaves your blinds open at all hours of the day and walks around with those hips, those breasts.

He's hard. He's avoided getting turned on until now. A loud crash breaks Bucky from his trance. He looks down to realize he broke the coffee mug in his hand, causing half of the cup to smash onto the floor.

Fuck it, he needs to jerk off.

Putting his hand on himself feels like an ocean of relief but a wave of immense shame washes over him too. Because he hasn't retreated to the bedroom, he's pressing himself into the wall of his kitchen to keep the window still in view. So he can still see you as you walk back into the living room.

God, you're beautiful. He wants to touch you. He wants so many things he's not allowed. And yet, he's furiously jerking off to the thought of it all. Watching your every move, pumping himself harder and harder.

He's deplorable. He shouldn't be doing this. But it feels like he can't breathe until he's done. Splattering the wall in his release, breathing raggedly, forehead pressing against the window frame.

At least, you'll never know.

After careful consideration, Bucky decides that fantasies are okay. They are harmless and hence, why he's allowing himself to watch you across the way and touch himself whenever he needs to. Which is a lot, by the way, probably too much. But it's not hurting anyone.

After a week, Bucky has learned many things about you. How you like your coffee, your favorite food. You don't have many friends over, you don't go out often. You work at home from your laptop. Thankfully, at a desk placed in your living room where Bucky has a perfect view of you. He loves your little face of concentration. Sometimes, you bite your lip and as cute as it is, it makes him so hard he has to get off every time you do it.

He's counted the floors and windows and figured out which apartment you live in. He knows it sounds creepy, but he's not planning to break in. He just wanted to learn your name. He learns it when he sneaks into your building and finds your mailbox downstairs. Then, looks you up with a quick Google search. Now he can scream y/n every time he comes.

That's all he wanted, a little more for his fantasies. For his little treat every day. He doesn't have much else except therapy and working at the bodega down the street. So, he's letting himself have this. He's letting himself have you.

Except, he can't just stop at your name. He wants to learn everything about you. He wants his fantasies to feel real. So he goes through your mail. He finds your credit card bill and takes pictures before perfectly sealing the envelopes back up and returning them to your mailbox.

He now knows what stores you shop at, what restaurants you eat at, the bookstore you occasionally frequent. And he begins going to all these places too. On his own, of course. He likes just knowing you were there, wondering what you picked off the menu or which book you chose.

Unfortunately, this is precisely what leads to him accidentally running into you. Literally. He turns around with his coffee to-go cup and bangs into you, spilling his coffee all over one of your too-thin blouses.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Bucky jumps for napkins.

His impulse is to help clean the spill himself but it's all over your chest, more specifically your breasts. His hands stop mid-motion, reaching the napkins toward you.

You accept the napkins shyly.

"It's okay," you tell him as you start dabbing your wet shirt.

Since the coffee soaked through your shirt, Bucky can see too much of the outline of your breasts. He averts his gaze. When you look back up at him, he eventually meets your eyes again. Now he can see the distinct specks of color in your eyes.

"I feel terrible. Can I get you a new shirt?" Bucky offers.

You pause, your mouth quirking into a smile.

"A new shirt?"

"Please, I'll pay for a new one or something," Bucky urges.

"How about you just buy me a coffee and we'll be even," you suggest.

"Of course."

He thinks he's safe. He survived the coffee incident and left shortly after buying you a drink. He thought it was done. Then he ran into you again.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise since he's frequenting all your favorite places. But this one is all his fault because he went back to your building and you caught him in the mailroom. Luckily, he was empty-handed but you still recognized him.

"Hey, aren't you coffee-spilling-guy?" you smirk.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry again... about that."

"I'm just teasing. I didn't know you lived here."

He shifts uncomfortably.

"I was actually visiting a friend," he lies.

"Oh, and getting their mail?"

He winces, you're too smart for him to trick, and already being this close to you again is doing bad things to him. Now that you're not covered in coffee, there's nothing masking the smell of your perfume. It's floral and too sweet. He wants to lick your neck.

When he doesn't answer, you fill in the silence.

"It's none of my business. I'm y/n by the way, I don't think we exchanged names."

You put out your hand and he looks oddly terrified of your palm but he manages to shake your hand briefly before informing you his name is "Bucky".

"Well, maybe I'll see you around, Bucky."

"Yeah, maybe."

You smile at him and he gives you half of one back. Then he nods, shuffling out of the mailroom and out the front door.

He needs to stop going out, Bucky decides. He can't risk running into you. He's already encountered two close calls — both too close for his liking.

The window is safe, so the window is where he'll stay. He's standing a few feet back watching you work today. He's already been here an hour.

You lean back in your chair and stretch your arms then you head into the kitchen and come back with a cup of water. You walk it over to the window sill and pour some water into a plant sitting on the ledge.

Then, you pause and slowly your eyes lift up. You look right through the window at Bucky watching you.

Bucky can't breathe in a terrible way. It's far too late to duck but he does so anyway.

He's been caught. Now he can never watch you again.

The worst thing happens two days later. Bucky is only outside because of his weekly therapy appointment. He's walking home, avoiding all your favorite spots, but you still manage to run into him.

This time from across the street. You see him first and it takes a second for him to notice you and then stop dead in his tracks, looking afraid to move.

You hurry over to him and he looks so tense, you're nervous to get too close.

"Hey, funny running into you again."

"I live over there," he points defensively.

"I know," you smile. "I saw you."

"I wasn't trying to stare, I..."

"I'm not mad. You were just looking out your window. It's not like that's a crime," you laugh. "You know, if you weren't so attractive, I'd probably be more freaked out."

Bucky visibly gulps. "You think I'm attractive?"

"Yeah," you shrug. "Hoping the feeling is mutual."

His eyes go wide, your face blushes in response.

"Sorry, that was too forward," you apologize.

"The feeling is very mutual," he responds low. It sends a vibration down your spine.

"You know, we keep running into each other. Maybe the universe wants us to have coffee together. I have some up at my place."

"Oh," he hesitates.

"Maybe you could spill some on me," you tease.

He laughs, thankfully, getting the joke. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"I'd love a coffee," he says.

The coffee is a move. That should've been obvious but Bucky didn't realize how weak he'd be the second you made one. Because after you set the coffee cup down in front of him, you just lean over and kiss him.

Bucky's not sure how to describe the feeling of all his fantasies coming true. How many times had he imagined your lips, exactly what they'd feel like, taste like? They're perfect. Far better than he could dream.

He knew this wouldn't be good if he ever got this. Got you. He knew he'd lose all sense of control and he eagerly leans back in, kissing you more forcefully. You moan against his lips and that sends a shudder through him.

"Be honest," you draw back to say. "Were you watching me through the window?"

"Yes," he admits huskily. He waits expecting you to pull away but you lie down on the couch and pull him with you by the collar of his shirt.

"That doesn't scare you?" he asks, hovering over you.

You shake your head, dragging him down to your lips and kissing him again.

Bucky has one mind to tell you how long he's been watching you, fantasizing about you, dying to have you. But he knows that won't sound sane. Besides, you're currently rolling your hips up into his groin which is making his head spin.

He groans and lets his weight crush yours so your bodies fall flush. You immediately start grinding up into him which drives him crazy.

He hasn't done this in a while but his instincts take over and he moves with you, sucking at the skin on your neck while you moan and play with his hair. Your fingers feel like silk, lacing through his brown locks and down his neck. He shivers, kissing you.

Bucky reaches down and slips his hand under your skirt. He gasps when he feels how soaked your underwear is.

"Have you been thinking about me?" he growls, the thought alone makes him feral.

You nod as he pushes the fabric aside to tease you. You arch back, sucking in a sharp breath with a smile.

"I've seen you—" you pant. "Watching me— for weeks."

Bucky's eyes go wide. His hand pauses.

"And once," you continue, eyes locked with his. "I saw your eyes closed and your face — you were coming, I realized."

He swallows pulling his hand back but you grab his wrist, keeping him there.

"You were getting off. I couldn't believe the hot guy watching me was that turned on just from looking at me. You couldn't even control yourself."

Bucky closes his eyes. "I have no restraint with you."

"Good," you grin and reach for the belt of his pants, unbuckling the strap, then pulling the fly open.

When you grab his cock, he groans loud. He's so hard in your hand, you lick your lips hungrily. You tug him forward and he moves in between your legs, taking hold of himself so you let go.

Then he pushes inside of you in one, easy glide. He stops, breathing heavily over you with his eyes closed. You frame his face.

"Wanna see you make that face again," you purr.

"Fuck, y/n," he rasps.

He rocks his hips into you and ramps up to an earnest pace.

"Oh fuck," you whine, grabbing onto him tighter. He buries his face in your neck, turning to speak roughly in your ear.

"When you come, I'm not gonna forget your face. It'll be all I dream about now."

"How're you so sure I'll come," you try to dare but you're already getting way too close with the way he's ramming into you.

He slows his pace and sits back to glare at you. You bite your lip as he hooks your thighs and pulls you closer, forcing himself deeper inside you.

He doesn't say anything just spreads your thighs apart, pressing them down into the cushions, and fucks you harder than before. His one hand finds your clit and he starts making circles with his thumb.

Your eyes roll back. There's no doubt you're gonna come. You moan out, gripping the armrest behind you.

"Bucky, please," you pant.

He presses forward, cradles your body to turn you both on your sides, and holds you against his chest now. Your thighs are hiked up as high as they can go. The new angle makes you cry out with every new thrust and he's somehow gaining more fervor, fucking you even harder until your thighs start trembling.

He doesn't stop until your orgasm crashes over you like hot lava, melting you from the inside and pouring over every inch of you. You scream into his chest while he keeps fucking you through it.

You're gasping, trying to breathe through the rapture while feeling how sensitive you are around his cock still slamming into you.

You're slurring something, but you're not even sure if you're telling him to stop or keep going. Your eyes roll back again, every inch of you won't stop vibrating, and you're not sure how much more you can take.

Then he slams into you hard and stops abruptly, fully buried inside you. The groan he makes sounds almost painful. His eyes are squeezed shut again, you recognize the expression he makes. You flush hot as you watch him come.

You both sit in the sounds of your labored breathing. You're still wrapped around him, he's still inside you.

"It was better up close," you whisper cheekily, carding a few fingers through his hair.

He sucks in a breath and looks at you with so much intensity that your hand freezes in his hair, you're scared to speak.

"I'd watch you make that face every day if you'd let me."

"You just wanna watch?" you grin.

He shakes his head, then pauses to reconsider it, then shakes his head again.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"That could be hot to roleplay it."

"Roleplay... what?"

"Our story," you smirk. "I'll get myself off while you stand against the window, watching me."

He breathes in shakily, already too turned on by the idea.

"You have no idea how bad you are for me," he gravels.

"Bad for you?" you laugh.

"I have no control around you."

"Good," you tell him, brushing his hair back. "I don't want you to."

[azriona]

Not a Fairy Tale Kiss, Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Avenger!OFC (2nd person POV)

This Chapter word count: 5k ~ Total Story count: 162k

Summary: When you and Bucky are both accidentally hit with sex pollen while on a mission, you're determined to keep your relationship status at friendship, even if you’d like it to be more. Even if you think he feels the same. Even if you accidentally end up pregnant. Even if it kills you.

(Spoiler Alert: it might actually kill you. Good luck with that.)

Trigger warnings include discussion of abortion, failed pregnancies, deaths of both mom & baby--not the MC! Full warnings on AO3. Happy ending is guaranteed, despite warnings. Please see AO3 for full A/N and tags.

Chapter Summary: In which we see three mornings in Avengers Tower, in reverse order.

It is a beautiful morning in New York City. The sky is clear, the air is crisp, the leaves are all the gorgeous shades of fall. There are four people in your apartment in Avengers Tower, and only one of them is not crying.

(Spoiler: it's not the baby.)

Cross-posting to Tumblr will begin sometime in June.

Posts will include the header image above and use the tag #not a fairy tale kiss verse. Let me know if you have questions or concerns; my main goal is to make reading easy, accessible, and not spam the tag. Send me an ask/DM and I can tag you when I start!

Thanks!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

Could you maybe possibly do a Bucky X single mum reader? Maybe he doesn't know she's a mum thinks she's ghosting him and then bumps into her and said child or something maybe some angst smut fluff the whole shebang

Bucky was officially done with dating.

He had felt this quite a few times but never had he decided to put an end to dating in the modern day until now. Things had been going great, he didn't even think she would've accepted to go on a date with him yet she did and after that, there wasn't a single moment where he wasn't thinking of her or with her. She was sweet, smart and didn't seem to mind about his past as the Winter Soldier or the metal arm that was blatantly visible to anyone if he took his gloves off. He was finally happy, in a healthy relationship, or at least he thought so.

A week ago things had gone radio silent, there were no texts, he didn't see her at her usual coffee spot and whenever he tried calling, it would go to voice mail time and time again. It had finally hit him that she had just "ghosted" him as Sam called it. Maybe he was right, yet not in the common sense, instead he felt haunted. Haunted by her touch, by her memory and even by the stupid cookies she used to buy. The same stupid cookies he was staring at right now.

      - Can I get these? - a toddler jumped up and down next to him. It was a girl, at least Bucky thought it was a girl based on the high pitched voice. He only looked at the toddler when she pulled on the leg of his trouser, finally forcing him to look at her. - Sir, please can you pass me the cookies?

He shrugged, easily grabbing the box and handing it to the girl who went off running to the legs of a woman, a woman who looked too familiar, a woman who looked almost terrified when she saw Bucky. Honestly, Bucky wasn't even sure who was more terrified if her or him.

      - Bucky. - she said as she walked up to him. - Listen, I ...

      - That's fine. - he interrupted her. - You don't have to say hi to me.

      - No, I just ... I need to explain things.

      - I'd rather avoid the whole "it's not you, it's me" discussion. You know, you could've at least sent me a text instead of ghosting me.

      - Ghosting? No, no, you don't understand. I've been busy and ...

      - For a whole week? Clearly you're not busy enough to be perusing the supermarket.

      - Perusing? I'm just getting groceries, I forgot I couldn't if I didn't text you.

      - Oh so you do know how to text. - Bucky knew he was being mean now but he was hurt. There were may voices in his head which were making him feel like a loser, make him feel like just the Winter Soldier yet he also knew that was no reason to insult her so before he could say something he would regret, he walked away.

Technically, he had now ghosted her as well but she'd done it first so it wasn't as heavy in his mind. At least not as heavy as the idea that the girl he liked so much had suddenly stopped wanting to see him. Many things were going through his mind about what could've caused it, he didn't see another man with her at the store so it potentially wasn't one so his mind was forcing him to face the fact that he was probably the reason. Who would want to date a murderer, the Winter Soldier? No one.

      - Did you bring my milk? - Steve asked as he skimmed through the groceries. - Bucky?

      - I saw Y/N in the shop. - he sat down. - And I was a dick to her. Basically ran off with whatever I had in my cart.

      - Hold on. - Steve said as he sat next to him. - You saw her? What did you say?

      - Stupid shit.

Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky was his best friend, they had known each other since forever and he wasn't against taking his friend's side even if he knew he may be slightly wrong. Yet, in this case, he knew Bucky probably was acting out from hurt and that usually wasn't pretty or nice to hear. It was quite vicious actually, sometimes he forgot how vicious Bucky could be.

      - I don't know what you said but maybe you should apologise.

      - Probably. - he sighed. - Yet again I think she was getting ready to give me a pity speech and I'd rather not listen to it.

      - Do you like this girl? - Bucky stayed silent at this. Of course he liked her, she was all he could think about at night, she was the sun the moon and the stairs for all he cared. But she didn't want him, what else would be the reason for her to suddenly go cold on him. - You've lived for a whole century, Buck. Go talk to her and find out what it is instead of sulking.

(...)

Bucky already regretted this.

As he stood outside her apartment door, he wondered if he was a complete creep. He felt like one, waiting for someone to open the main door so he could get into the building with the sad flowers he'd bought hoping they would convince Y/N not to close the door in his face. Once more, he stared at the golden number on her door before sighing and knocking. He heard quick footsteps before the door knob was slowly twisted and the door opened. The same toddler who he had seen in the market opened the door.

      - Hi! - she said looking at him as if he was her oldest friend.

      - Uh ... Is Y/N here?

      - Meredith, who are you talking you? - he heard Y/N's voice echo through the apartment until she appeared at the door. - Bucky.

      - Hi. - he cleared his throat.

      - Mere, go inside. - Y/N ushered her daughter back inside, closing the door behind her.

Bucky stared at Y/N in both awe and confusion. Who was that toddler? Was it hers? She did look a look like Y/N and he had seen both of them at the supermarket as well. Did Y/N have a kid?

      - She's mine. - Y/N said noticing the doubt on his face. - I had her senior year of college. She's 4.

      - Why ... uh ....

      - She's 4, she doesn't really understand relationships and I don't want to bring anyone into her life that may leave. I also usually struggle to date when I tell guys I have a 4 year old ... I should've told you, I'm sorry.

      - And the ghosting?

      - I wasn't ghosting. - she crossed her arms. - Mere had the chicken pox and I had to stay home with her. I was gonna text you but I thought this ... this would be a better conversation to have in person.

      - Ah ... - he scratched the back of his neck. - I was an asshole at the supermarket, wasn't I?

      - That depends ... are those flowers for me? - she smirked.

      - Yes. - he extended his arm towards her handing her the flowers. Marigolds, her favourite. - They look a bit sad though.

      - They look perfect. - she smiled at him. - Wanna come in?

(...)

Bucky stirred awake in the couch as he heard a soft rustling following by breathing. He peaked his eye open to see Meredith staring at him with wide eyes before she poked his cheek with her finger.

      - Mr. Bucky? Can you make me pancakes?

He could get used to this.

[lokisbirdofhermes]

Help me pick my next fic!

Keep in mind, almost all of this will get written at some point; I'm just asking you which one you'd like to see first.

[moth-mortuary]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕝 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤 𝔹𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕞

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Relationships: The Winter Soldier/Reader, The Winter Soldier & Reader Part: 4/? Language: English

✪ Masterlist ✪

The girl was soft, some youthful fat still clinging to her cheeks, a heart-shaped face with soft eyes and the distinctive features of someone who grew up in good conditions.

She talked a lot, fidgeted a lot, spoke with her hands. She would go crazy in his situation, hands tied and silence filling the aseptic room.

But she has no business being in his situation; only monsters end up in his situation.

Time passes, the lights dim.

He will not see her again. Better to close the memory in a sealed-tight container in his brain, less messy, more organised, no stray thoughts confusing his order.

The soldier closes his eyes and sits on the metal bench bolted to the side of his glass cube. Forget her. She had not accepted the job. He had told her not to.

Steps, an irregular heartbeat, something weirdly spaced, too much adrenaline in the body hosting that heart. «Contrary to popular request, I accepted the job.»

Fool.

«I spoke to some guards, and I guess I can give you this. They were kinda unprepared for the request.» A giggle, true, no, nervous. Fake, no, still true. Chatty.

She’s dressed the same way, not much must have passed; he doesn’t know. A t-shirt, graphic, literally, some sort of rat wearing a spiked collar, a messy font saying something the creases of the shirt do not allow him to decipher; jeans, worn, old, borderline unsalvageable, sneakers. A messy rhythm in her chest.

She’s carrying a package.

Files, missions, reports.

Bread.

What?

She takes it out of the brown bag, gets closer, scared, still scared. Unsteady heartbeat, fast, then slow, then fast again. No. Not adrenaline. Something else. The bread gets put on a paper plate, in the slot in his cage for feeding. Waiting.

«There, eat.» An order. A new handler? HYDRA? Hesitation. He should not hesitate. «Or don’t! You can choose.» A choice, not a handler. Softness, not HYDRA. «I just— I saw your dossier, and the photo.» What photo? Photos of his missions? Horrors, her heartbeat unsteady, something that had shaken her. Fear? No, she doesn’t beat to the rhythm of fear. «And you looked way healthier.» He’s functional.

«So, you know, I thought you could use some more food. Anyway, this morning, you knew I was there, didn’t you?». Such casualty, such disorienting honesty. She knows. «Could you see us through the mirror?». She knows and she doesn’t. She observes.

Us, two heartbeats, the older man beats at a sick rhythm, old, dying. She beats faster, like a mouse. Something small and full of adrenaline. How has she noticed? Sharper, a threat, she could be a threat. «Are we alone right now?»

Not what he expected. Is she scared of it? Good. Who wouldn’t be?

He nods. «Good.» Yes— what? «I contacted Sam Wilson.» The man in the tight car? «To get to Mister Rogers the news you are here, but— god, I don’t know what I was expecting but I wasn’t expecting that, he thinks you already are in hiding with Captain America, he’s adamant about it… I— I don’t know what I’m doing, shit, were you captured with him? Is he like, detained too?»

No plan, no plan is a bad plan, the girl is unprepared, not a threat. In danger.

«Fuck. Can I take a bite?» She paces the room, nervous, heartbeat spiking, doesn’t wait for a response, nobody ever does. A stress eater. Not poisoned, the sandwich is safe. He’s starving. «Sorry, I have another one—» «No.»

Silence. Her cheek protruding, mid-chew. «You don’t want it?»

When you are in a cage, you don’t get to want. How did he forget something as simple as that?

«You want… This one?» Observant. «It has the same filling— Oh, oh, okay, here, sorry about the bite.»

He’s starving. She’s no capturer, she’s buzzing, stressed, soft. Still chewing. Swallowing. Safe.

It tastes better than anything he has ever eaten. It’s the hunger speaking, but it speaks truths.

The food is gone in under a minute, clean, efficient. Still starving.

«Do you want the other one too?» He does, he really does.

Another plate, clean, new. Soft, she is carelessly soft.

Silence. Waiting. He’s starving. «What?» A laugh, soft, breezy, true. Not nervous. «Do you want me to bite that one too?» a joke, another laugh. Faltering. Silence. «Do you want me to?» A frown.

A nod. From the soldier. «Oh, um, okay.» A smaller bite. «There, started.»

She is not swallowing. A trap, he should have known, was the rest of the food given to him poisoned too? Was it—

Gulp.

She swallowed it.

«Oh no, shit, you are right this one has mayo.»

. Chatty. So chatty.

She sits on the chair, then on the floor, one file becomes two, then three and then four. She speaks a lot. He has to respond. No, he doesn’t have to; something else. Maybe he needs to. «Okay, this one.» Another file pressed to his glass. «Was that you?» another question. The same answer: Another nod.

December 16th 1991 Yes.

«Fuck dude, that’s bad.» No judgment, only a remark. Not toward him, a casual one. Not efficient.

If people had words instead of days to live, she would have been dead at two.

«Shit, I haven’t even offered you water.» She licks a thumb, ink staining it. A bad taste, bitter. He knows, but he doesn’t know why. A camping bottle, a cup. «Here. Should I bite the cup?» Another joke, not mocking, only teasing. Laughter, soft laughter. Freely given.

«A sip.» «Oh, okay, sorry. Lousy mouth.»

The water is safe, she sloshes it in her mouth and swallows it. Safe.

«Are we still alone?» A nod.

«Alright, man, I really don’t think you should be rotting in here, but if Steve himself is being detained, I don’t know what I, mind you not being a lawyer, can do for you.»

«Steve’s free. In hiding.» «What? Are you sure? Then I have to tell him, shit, I need a photo of you, a recording, something to give to Sam—» «He won’t come.» She freezes, truly, finally, no nervous fidgeting, no absentminded movements, true stillness. He feels better, something in her nervousness clings to him. Better like this. Undisturbed, empty.

«But… but it’s… It’s you.»

Something squeezes his chest. It’s him. That’s why no one will come. «He cares about you.» No, no, he doesn’t care about him. A cancer, a sickness, an illness.

«No.» «Why wouldn’t he?» she presses. Insistent, petulant. «He does, he screwed his whole career for you, he must—» For him, for him, not for him. «He won’t.»

Uneven beats, nervous, no, frustrated, no, something else. «Why. Because you think he wouldn’t? People are weird, dude. You don’t really get to understand their feelings most of the time.»

«Because I took the shot.»

———— The phrase rings hollow, an unspoken continuation lingering in the blindingly empty room. You can’t decipher it, you don’t know where to look for an answer. He’s written in an alphabet you don’t know. You don't understand who he is trying to convince, is it you? You doubt it, yet somehow it's truly difficult not to believe him, he doesn't look anxious, he doesn't look backed into a corner, he just looks empty.

And angry. Not blatantly, deeply, under layers of nothingness. So deeply angry. The pen clenched in your fist creaks, or maybe your joints do, it’s hard to tell, you are gripping too hard. «How many of those you killed did you personally know?» Sifting through files, your notebook, the worn cover, the bent rings, you refilled it for the occasion, back in the UK, back when you had still thought you would have taken notes on a criminal, a serial killer, cowering behind rows of medics and therapists. He snaps, like a rubber band just waiting for the last yank. «Some—» «Not as Bucky Barnes.» This time is your index knuckle, a low creak, the grating of bones. The quiet in a chaotic place, something misplaced and alien. His silence, your creaking, you two are like a haunted house. Chaotic, silent, tired.

«None.» Keep pushing, keep pressing until he cannot but tell you, you must, it's an itch you can't scratch otherwise. «And how many do you remember?» Stillness, calm, something misplaced. Wrong. «All of them.»

Your knuckle pops. Painfully and satisfyingly There you go. «I don’t think an unsalvageable man would remember even one.»

He hadn’t said that; you had heard it.

The pen scratches, you hum lowly, mumbling your own thoughts to not let a single phrase get lost in the labyrinth of your horribly messy mind.

His voice is soft, his words are not. «Quit it.»

The job? You are not even sure you still can. It’s such a small peep, not the order he gave you yesterday. "Don’t take the job." You are so stubborn. No, this one is fragile, almost shy. You don’t expect it to escalate. It does, but instead of roaring lowly in anger, it just grows heavier, tired. «Don’t make me think I could be good.» Until his words soften. «It hurts.»

Your heart shatters for the man; you don't pity him, but you ache. Deeply and freely. You bleed for him.

And yet you must press, because nothing comes without a price, and you have a job, and for how much he hates you for doing this to him, you have to. You know no other way to save him. «It wouldn’t stop. Even if I quit.»

You let him be at peace for a while, you try to stay still while scratching some notes on your notebook. You have noticed how much he relaxes when you just stop existing in the loud way you have always existed, but it’s hard for you. Your leg begs to be bounced, your fingers gather air in your knuckle pleading you to just pop them and after that keep twisting and cracking until your joints ache and your pads tingle. «Do you want me to go?» It’s an honest question, one you are positive will receive an honest answer. You don’t think he likes you that much, it makes sense, you are not exactly the quiet type, and he looks constantly dipped in silence.

Surprisingly, he shakes his head. This time, you don’t press further; you just acknowledge it with a nod and resume your work.

Your eyes grow heavy, you can feel his eyes on you, but it’s less and less unnerving by the hour. He’s empty once more, no more anger, not the speckle of bottomless sadness you had glimpsed. Only empty. Waiting.

«I think I should let you sleep.» You finally declare, getting up from your contorted position on the floor and popping as silently as possible your stiff back. He doesn’t respond. You collect your things, buzzing the intercom beside the door. You wave at him, a tight-lipped smile more focused on being quiet and not overly you than polite.

A couple of seconds pass, nothing happens, then a full minute goes by, still nothing, you try the door handle, then you buzz again. Nothing.

«They went to sleep.»

«You are not surveilled 24/7?» Well, that was rude, but something is gnawing at the bottom of your stomach and you are pretty sure it’s anxiety clawing its way back from where you had tried to bury it.

«The food. It has tranquillisers.»

«What— No! I would never—» «Not yours.»

Oh. Oh, this is messed up.

«Well that is fucked up.» You warned him, everything going on up there must find a way to get out. You simply cannot keep a thought to yourself.

The room fills with silence once more. You spin on your heels, then slowly slide your way to the floor, tiredly slumping down the walls.

«I guess we’ll just have a sleepover then.»

The thought unnerves you, and you doubt you’ll be able to close an eye, but the man doesn’t need to know this. «Do the lights turn off?»

Silence. You are probably annoying him. Scratch that, you are definitely annoying him, hell, you are annoying yourself. «Нет.»

Silence. You should maintain it. «Animals.» No inner thoughts, right.

. 1st day of the 1st week: morning. If you had not closed an eye, you would not find yourself opening both of them, back stiff, your shoulder being shaken. «Ma’am, ma’am, what are you doing here?» Oh, the kid from yesterday, the guard bringing the soldier his mixture of gruel and tranquillisers. You want to reprise him, to ask, “Do you know they are sedating him?” without caring about any consequence at all, if not for the hope of changing the way things are being done, at least to make someone face the objective cruelty of their own practices. But even though you still need to reboot properly, and you still struggle to keep your own thoughts to yourself, you know that stating what you now know could not be a good move. What if he was not supposed to know? What if your lousy mouth ended up making things worse for him?

«Ma’am?»

James’ eyes are already on you, of course they are, what were you expecting? But something is amiss, there is a certain tension in his jaw, something deeply unnerving given the fact it’s distressing to the Winter Soldier. His eyes dart to the younger man in uniform, you can feel the faint buzzing of metal somewhere in the room.

Something is really tense in here, and it’s not your creaking back.

You jump up, knees popping loudly, a surge of nervousness punching a laugh out of your mouth. «Well, I need to shower.» The kid follows your moves, a machine gun you had not noticed strapped to his torso, dangling between your bodies. «Ma'am, I’m sorry I left you here—» «No harm done, kid. I had a lovely pyjama party, now please, I really need to pee.» And with a quick handwave, you bid goodbye to the man in the cage and shove past the door.

You had not lied. You need to pee so badly.

. ”He has a mole on the left side of his forehead. He’s being sedated and kept in a locked container. Believe me, he is not free. Please, I really don’t know what I should do to help him. This is my phone number. I’m begging you to give it to Steve Rogers.”

Well, there is no harm in trying; you still firmly believe that if only Captain America knew, he would come barging through the door to rescue his friend. You simply have to tell him.

You are barely out of the most uncomfortable, cramped and cold shower you have ever taken that your phone starts ringing.

«Hello?» «You are in a very bad situation. Whatever you are doing in there, stop. I’m saying this for your own good. You sound like a sweet girl, and I get that you want to make things right, but there is nothing to be set straight in this situation. Please. Go as far as you can from that man.»

Silence engulfs you, something rings hollow in your ears, a piercing sound that makes you shiver. «Steve Rogers, I gather.»

«I’m sorry you find yourself in this situation, whatever your job is, drop it. I’m truly sorry.» Prick, you had known the Winter Soldier for less than a day and you are more set on helping him than his life-long best friend.

A coward and a prick.

«Yeah me too, I thought Captain America had more spine than whatever the fuck you have. Have a nice day, sir. I’m not quitting.»

«You should—»

The line cuts, your thumb stays pressed on the red button, something boils deep in your chest, so furiously that you almost think sleeping in the same room with the Soldier had made you cling onto some of his repressed and deep anger.

Alone in the world, he is alone in the world. «FUCK!»

>> ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

Ao3 Link Wattpad Link

[justagirlinafandomworld]

All the Usual Tricks

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Song Prompt from Unclaimed Love Songs: End Game by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 100

A/N: In my head, this is an in-between for Island Breeze & Lights Down Low. Bucky and Taylor Swift songs seem to be mixing, I don’t know what it is.

“This could be fun,” you mused, turning towards the glowering soldier.

“Your definition of fun is weird.”

But damn it if the amusement that lit your face didn’t pump some adrenaline through his veins. Bucky had a vivid recollection of just how reckless you could be the first time he met you.

“You mean you didn’t enjoy our dance, pretty boy?”

The visible cringe, the pained grimace as he uttered, “Please don’t.” A cough in the background saved him from your teasing. The humor in your gaze faded into something darker, almost vulnerable, but you blinked, and it was gone.

[ms-nesbit]

im going to give two options for fic drops, and you decide which you prefer.

(options are seen below)

option one:

Bucky perched atop the abandoned building, hiding his shadow among the darkness of the twilight night. In the cold hours, when the birds lay their heads to rest, and devils rise from the dead, his left shoulder ached from the contact of the vibranium arm. Nevertheless, the tension in his shoulder came second to the bitter breeze stabbing his cheeks, despite the facial hair he grew solely for warm sustenance. Yet, as he sat perched along the flat overhang of the building, his combat boots pressed hard against the large concrete blocks below him, Bucky’s focus drifted from his task (which was, simply put, to observe the relation of the mob crime scene along Midtown), the dishes left waiting for him back in his quaint studio in Harlem, the bitter cold that hit so much more in late February, and her.

option two:

...

As Matthew stepped through the streets, one block after another, he encountered a pleasant concoction of jasmine, vanilla, and bergamot that he couldn’t shake off. So, Matthew pursued it, leading him to an outdoor seating area of a Greek restaurant. There, he heard a roar of laughter, followed by a hiccup, all from a single person. He grinned to himself as he listened ...

[nikkirimizi]

Please Don't Leave (Not Yet) (Bucky/Reader) 🌨

Summary: It could have been any ailment. A migraine, a cold, a flu, or even just stress, an overactive brain. There was no telling as to what it could've been. All they knew was a flushed face, aches, and the overwhelming feeling of dread every time they got sick. Out of everything, they knew to always leave everyone around them out of it. Don't get anyone involved in their illnesses, mental nor physical, and everything would be alright.

Rating: Teen and up

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62592691

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Nothing But Your T-Shirt | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One Shot 1.7k

Natasha dares you to steal one of Bucky's shirts during a drunken sleepover. Natasha is definitely up to something, but maybe revealing your secrets isn't such a bad idea...

Warnings: 18+ for language, sleepover antics, fluff, kissing and suggestive situations. Rated F for fluff and T for tower fic.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Wanda opened the door of the penthouse with a squeal of excitement.

"Oh my god, you came! Yay! Come in, come in!" She ushered you inside enthusiastically, a large pina colada in one hand, your fingers in the other.

"Hey," Natasha waved from the comfort of the conversation pit, pillows and blankets draped about.

Pepper emerged from behind the bar with a tray of glasses, snacks and a huge smile. "Hi, how are you? Come and get comfortable."

You'd been an Agent level member of the Avengers for a month now. Accompanying them on a few missions and attending briefings. So when Tony declared it was 'boys night' and he was taking the male contingent to a new restaurant, Pepper had rolled her eyes and insisted that you, Wanda and Natasha join her for cocktails in the penthouse.

You were shocked at being included, but Wanda and Natasha had been so welcoming when you'd joined them for a mission the week before that you managed to tamp down your nerves enough to say yes.

Pepper handed out the drinks and insisted of getting your specific order for both pizza and desert before sitting down and finally looking you over. She was a constant presence when you were in the New York Avengers Tower, powerful and confident, always smartly turned out in heels that rivaled the tower itself in height. And you'd always been too nervous to talk to her.

Suddenly you felt hot under the over sized floor lamps.

"So," Pepper grinned, an uncharacteristic move that had you even further on edge. "Natasha tells me you have a crush on Barnes."

You choked on your drink.

"What?"

"Don't play coy," Natasha purred, I've seen the way you look at him, she winked and you couldn't help but laugh.

Wanda giggled around her straw, nodding in agreement. "You do, you're always fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"I do not!"

"Fine, fine," Pepper held her hands up, "if you're not ready to spill, lets do something else. I got my aesthetician to send me some new facial samples, want to try?"

Natasha looked pointedly over the rim of her glass, "this isn't like the egg thing is it because I don't want to put anything up my-"

"Natasha! No!" Pepper cut her off as she crossed the vast room, "behave, I'll be back soon."

Four more pina coladas and a face mask later, you were a lot more relaxed. Lying on one side of the sofa with your arms behind your head, eyes drifting closed until a foot poked you in the side.

"You sleeping?" Wanda whispered with a giggle.

"I think so," your own giggle bubbled up, inhibitions lowered by the drinks.

"Did you bring pyjamas? I have three guest rooms or we can sleep out here." Pepper's voice was excited, higher pitched than you'd ever heard it, the professional edge gone.

The others had already changed before you arrived, but you'd had to travel across town from your apartment and hadn't exactly wanted to get a cab in your nightwear. Looking at them now they were all so similar, matching even in their differences. All in over sized t-shirts. Pepper's had a joke on about electrons. Wanda's was deep red with 'Avengers Tech Institute' printed on the left side. And you were fairly sure Natasha's belonged to Steve, it fell on her shoulders in such a graceful way, showing off her collarbone. They all looked so effortlessly beautiful and, despite the fact you were over dressed, you wilted again.

It'd been so nice to be included and now you felt different again, outside. They all had their partner's shirts on, and you had…red plaid with a tea stain on.

The silence was loud until Natasha sat up, a cheeky grin appearing as she said, "I dare you to get one of James' t-shirts."

"Nat, no, come on." You could feel embarrassment heating you again. Hadn't they decided to ignore this line of questioning?

"Yes! Do it, do it!" Wanda agreed, jumping up and clapping her hands together.

"Officially I feel like I need to put a stop to this, I can't have you breaking in to someone's private rooms."

Natasha raised an eyebrow and glared at Pepper who rolled her eyes in return.

"But unofficially I'm going to go to the bar and whatever you three do while I'm not looking, isn't my fault." She held her hands up and pointedly turned away while Natasha and Wanda fixed you in their sights.

"I couldn't!"

"You know you want to, you likeeee himmm." Wanda sang obnoxiously, poking you again.

"You can, I'll help you." Natasha said, very seriously, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the elevator and leaving you with no choice.

You should probably have been concerned over just how quickly Natasha managed to break into Barnes' rooms. You couldn't think of him as Bucky, or even James as Natasha called him. Not when you were stood looking at his unmade bed, the clothes on the back of the chair and the wobbling stack of books on his bedside table.

He'd left a cookie and a half drunk cup of coffee on the other side where the pillows were propped up against the headboard and a well worn copy of Lord of the Rings was face down in the sheets.

You'd only been close to Barnes a few times, but he always smelt so wonderful, a heady mix of clean vanilla and spice. Soft and welcoming with some deeper thread that made you want to press your nose into the soft crook of his neck and just inhale.

"Quick, pick something he won't notice is gone." Wanda whispered, pulling drawers open in the dark.

"No, no, this!" Natasha held up Barnes' signature henley, ox blood red and so soft. It had frayed around the neck from wear and the cotton was slightly stretched. He wore it almost constantly, despite Steve buying his a petrol blue one for Christmas.

Natasha closed the lid of his laundry basket again and chucked it over to you.

It had that same vanilla scent and, though it also had a hint of sweat, you couldn't help the urge to press it to your face.

"Come on, put it on." Natasha urged, pulling on your tank top to lift it over your head.

The henley was as soft as it looked and, in the brief moment it covered your face, you allowed yourself the inhale that you craved. Bucky, all Bucky.

Getting it over your boobs proved a slight struggle. But once it was settled it hugged them snuggly, allowing your cleavage to peep through the unbuttoned front. It stretched at the hips too and was oddly flattering when you looked into the mirror by the door.

"That actually really suits you."

Natasha nodded in agreement and then paused, completely still.

"Fuck, quick." She ran for the balcony, dragging Wanda with her and you turned in confusion only to be met with light in the hallway and one Sergeant James Barnes, stood stock still in the doorway of his own bedroom, staring at you.

"Sergeant Barnes I -" you struggled to find an excuse, was there really ever an excuse to break into someones bedroom and try on their clothes? Instead you looked away, wondering whether to rip the henley off and try to find your top instead, or whether to try and escape past him.

He licked his lips and paused, carefully choosing his next words, but your name slipped out, unbidden.

Your eyes snapped up to his.

"That shirt looks good on you," his voice was rough when he spoke, like he was holding something back and your body flushed with heat.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, Natasha -"

He gave a low, dark, laugh.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure it's entirely her fault. But you - " He took a step forward and your breath caught in your throat.

"I'll give it back -"

"Please, keep it on." He approached slowly, as if trying to befriend a wild animal that could run at any time.

"I'm sorry -"

He was right in front of you now, still in the suit Tony had insisted he wear, although his bow tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and the first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, showing a flash of his skin underneath.

"Is Natasha right?" He asked, slowly backing you towards the wall. Each step was calculated. When you staggered back, his left hand curled around your waist to steady you.

"Uhm-" your eyes flicked down to his parted lips and back to his eyes.

"She said she knew a secret, she shared it with me," he watched your every move, carefully leaning you back against his bedroom wall. The hand on your waist tightened, the other toyed with his shirt, still wrapped so closely around your body.

You heaved in a breath and his eyes dropped to your cleavage before lifting to your face. "I'm glad I came back, been dying to see you. Imagine my surprise when I find you all wrapped up in my bedroom like a present."

"Sergeant Barnes," you whimpered and his leg slid between yours, pushing up against you. "What did Natasha tell you?"

"Always so formal, it's okay, I know, you can relax." He bent forwards, nose brushing against your cheek, lips at the shell of your ear.

You let out a shaky breath.

"She told me you have a little crush on me."

It's exactly what you'd imagined she'd said, and yet, the embarrassment was so acute already you thought you might pass out.

"Don't worry," his breath tickled the soft skin behind your ear making goosebumps rise along your arms. "I have a little crush on you too."

You could feel his smile on your cheek when he pressed a kiss there and then his lips were on yours, rough in their excitement, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down towards you, fingers in his hair.

"You can keep the t-shirt," he mumbled against your lips, "but can we lose the pjs?"

You giggled, nodding and broke away only when Wanda and Natasha started banging on the glass, cheering and whooping while you and Bucky smiled, with only eyes for each other.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Date Night

Pairing: dbf!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky makes a big mistake.

Warnings: Angst, Language, yea sorry

Word Count: 1.7K

A/n: teehee whoops. im gonna have a ghost one coming out soon for you guys, and then maybe some more teddy bear picnic but we'll see

~*~

"Hey kid, wanna grab a beer and watch the game with your old man? Or are you too cool for that?"

You grin at your dad and slow your steps, glancing at the hockey game on TV.

"Where's Bucky? I thought he was your game night date? He finally realize hockey sucks?"

Your dad gives you an offended look then rolls his eyes playfully.

"Nah, he had to cancel last minute - he's got a hot date tonight."

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, unaware of the fact that those six words have flipped your night upside down and caused knots to form in your stomach.

You don't remember having plans with him tonight.

As casually as you can manage, you head into the kitchen, pulling out your phone and tapping a quick text over to the man in question.

'Not coming over tonight?'

It's read within the same minute, and then the telltale three dots pop up before his message spawns.

'Sorry baby, not feeling too hot.'

The knots in your gut are quickly crushed by the boulder that settles there, and you need to take a few careful breaths to stop yourself from crying in the middle of the kitchen.

~*~

"Everything okay, James?"

He huffs out a sigh and glances up from his phone, smiling weakly at the woman across from him.

"Listen, Dot... I can't tell you how grateful I am that you managed to make such a beautiful cake in such a short amount of time. And, while I'm flattered that you'd want to go out for dinner, I had you make that cake for a woman who means... quite a bit to me. I don't want to make things awkward but I do want you to know that I'm out with you tonight as a friend and nothing more."

The woman across from him blinks blankly a few times, then takes a sip of her martini, stands up, and leaves the table.

Bucky watches helplessly as she leaves the restaurant without another word, dropping his head back for a moment as he feels onlookers stare.

It takes a few minutes for the waitress to come back, but by the time she does, he's got a wad of cash ready for her and his keys in hand.

He all but runs out of the restaurant, a new lightness in his shoulders like a weight has been lifted from his chest.

Immediately, he grabs his phone and shoots a quick text off to your dad.

'Room for one more?'

It takes a few minutes for your dad to respond, which Bucky uses to put on his helmet and straddle his bike.

'Date not going well?'

Bucky chuckles softly.

'Something like that. I'll be there in five.'

He swipes out of the conversation with your dad and then clicks on the only pinned conversation on his phone.

'I'm feeling a bit better now, gonna pop by for a bit.'

With that, he locks his phone and brings his bike to life, eager to be in your presence again.

Your phone vibrates, pulling you from your pity party, and you frown at the text on it.

You turn your phone off and drop it face-down on the carpet, ignoring this text the way you've ignored the last three from him.

You can hear him downstairs chatting with your dad as if he's done nothing wrong. As if he wasn't out with another woman less than an hour ago.

Grinding your teeth together, you decide that enough is enough, and it's time for bed.

At the very moment you open your door to head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Bucky decides to raise his fist to knock.

Your eyes meet his and, for a moment, you forget that you're mad. You forget everything.

And then he opens his stupid mouth.

"Hey, what's with you tonight?" He asks gently, reaching forward to grab your hand.

You yank away from him and take a step back, levelling him with a steely glare.

"How was your date?"

You watch as he deflates, as his face falls and his shoulders slump forward the tiniest bit.

"Sweetheart, it's not what you think, I swear."

"Oh Jesus Christ," you murmur, pushing past him and heading downstairs to watch the game with your dad. At least down here he can't talk to you.

He can't try to justify him willingly going on a date with another woman.

Well, not until the game's over, at least. And it seems like it's only a few minutes before your dad is yawning, turning the TV off and heading upstairs to go to bed himself.

This leaves you alone in the living room with Bucky, tension building with every silent second that passes between the two of you.

"Honey, I had to," he finally whispers, breaking the silence.

You whip your head around, mouth dropping open in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

He holds his hands up, a desperate and pathetic attempt at pleading with you, begging you to hear him out.

"It was the only way for me to get your birthday cake. Dot is an old friend from high school and... she wanted a date as payment for the last-minute cake," he explains quietly.

You purse your lips, nodding as if it all makes sense now.

"Oh, I see! So, not only do you admit to forgetting my birthday, but you also agreed to go on a date with a woman who has had a thing for you since high school! Buck, that is so not okay on so many different levels!" You exclaim in a whisper.

The last thing you need is your dad overhearing any part of this conversation.

"I know. That's why I left. I told her I couldn't, that the cake was for someone important to me and that I was only having dinner with her as a friend."

You shake your head at him and rise to your feet, unable to stay still while he spews nothing but nonsense at you and expects you to forgive him.

"You shouldn't have even gotten me that cake if that's what she wanted as payment! You should've told her to stick it and then you literally could've gotten me a Starbucks cake pop. I don't need fancy cakes or expensive things, James, I thought you knew that." Your voice gradually loses its anger, disappointment and exhaustion taking its place.

"I know but... I wanted to do something special for you." He looks like a kicked puppy, and it takes a serious amount of self-control to hold on to your anger.

"My birthday was special. Even without the cake it still would've been special. Especially if I'd've known it would mean that you would be going on a date with another woman in order to get it."

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he pleads, reaching for you again only for you to shake your head and step away.

"No, Bucky. Sorry doesn't fix this. Can you imagine if the roles were reversed? What if I had to go on a date with a guy who's been wanting me for over a decade just for the perfect steak? And then, what if I lied to you about it and you found out from my dad that I was out on a 'hot date'? A date with someone that the general public would deem more appropriate for me to be with? Someone who would fit me better. How would that make you feel?"

He stands there silently for a moment, fists clenched tightly as he imagines everything you just said.

He imagines you laughing on a date with another man, a young man, a man far more appropriate for you to be with. He imagines sitting waiting for you, only to find out that you're out getting hit on by some young punk who wouldn't know how to please a woman like you. His imagination runs wild, to the point where he can almost feel steam billowing from his ears, but all he says is

"Shitty."

"Shitty?" You laugh, "Try worthless. Embarrassed. Humiliated. At least that's how I felt. And-and maybe I'm just reading too deep into this. Maybe this 'exclusivity' that I thought we had is one-sided."

"It's not," he interrupts quickly, taking a step forward only to pause when you step back again.

"Maybe I just thought things were more serious than they were," you continue, eyes stuck on the ground as your thoughts spill out before your mind has a moment to realize what you're saying.

"They are serious-"

"Maybe we should just stop... whatever this is that we're doing."

Silence hangs heavily in the air when you finish speaking, and you feel tears sting at your eyes when he says nothing.

You count thirteen heartbeats before he finally says something.

"Is that what you really want?" He asks softly, his voice discouraged.

Slowly, you raise your eyes to his.

"What even are we?" You ask breathlessly, a single tear sliding down your cheek. "What are we doing?"

"You're my girl."

You sniffle and shake your head.

"No, I'm your dirty little secret, that's what I am. And I'm tired of it. I wanna be something you're proud of, not something you have to hide," you whisper, your chest aching with the weight of your confession.

Bucky's heart breaks at your words, and he wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and kiss away any insecurities you have in your relationship. If you can even call it that.

"I am proud of you, sweetheart, beyond proud. I can't even put into words how I feel about you," he whispers, desperate for you to understand just how much you mean to him.

"Why haven't you told my dad about us yet?"

The silence that follows your question is answer enough for you, and you nod.

"I... I think you should leave," you finally whisper, hugging yourself and keeping your gaze locked on the ground.

He stays rooted in place for a long moment, testing your resolve, waiting for you to break. When you don't, he takes slow steps toward the door, waiting, praying for you to change your mind.

But you stand firm.

Never able to deny you, he leaves you standing alone in your kitchen, your dad peacefully asleep upstairs while your entire life gets turned upside down.

[volklana]

If You Keep Willing Those Flames To Go Higher. You Know They Will.

Title Comes From This Song:

Summary: When Yelena brings a woman from Bucky's HYDRA past back to the tower to be part of the team, his hatred for himself, spills out into his treatment of her, threatening to destroy everything he's worked on and what could have been the beginning of a new love.

Warnings: There's a scene where reader puts herself purposely in harm's way just to feel something.

Sometimes Bucky was irritable and snappy. He was mean, dismissive and rude and sometimes his sharp tongue said things he didn’t even really mean, but nevertheless most people just accepted that was part of the parcel of Bucky and underneath it all was a caring man who would do anything to protect those he was close to.

But that was precisely the problem, he wasn’t close with you, despite your numerous attempts at getting to know him when you first joined the team.

Yelena had simply come back with you one night and expected everyone to welcome you with open arms, but Bucky could not.

He had known you, back in his Winter Soldier days, had seen you first hand on similar missions to his own for HYDRA, gathering counter-information for the Russians, and carrying out kill missions for both parties alike.

But despite all that, you had made it your mission to show him that you had changed, you followed his orders to a tee. You were first to show up to training every day and the last to leave.

You made everyone food, going as far as to bring it to his door when he refused to come down to the living room.

You were always the first up, coffee brewing for when he would emerge into the kitchen, looking like he hadn’t slept in over a week, the first to offer him help in a mission and try to take care of him when he was hurt.

“Morning Bucky,” you smiled softly and he scoffed from somewhere deep in the back of his throat.

“Barnes to you,” he spat and you stepped to the side to allow him to fetch a cup of coffee. 

He overheard you on a video call with your therapist one day and he hardened his face when you emerged from your room, red eyed and wiping away tears in a haste when you bumped into him, eyes going wide with embarrassment but he didn’t say anything either in contempt or reassurance and he watched you traipse down the corridor heavy shouldered and tired. 

He didn’t care about you, he had to remind himself.

You were like sunshine in the tower, your laughter bounced off the walls, Yelena and Bob felt so comfortable around you there was always one of them glued to your side, sometimes Yelena would simply plop her head onto your lap and Bucky would watch you twirl your fingers absentmindedly through her hair as her eyes slipped closed and for just a fraction of a second he would think that maybe, just maybe you were good, and wonder what it would feel like to lay his own head in your lap and let you ease him into sleep.

Everyone else loved you.

But his nightmares would sharply remind him every night that you were not good.

“The fuck are you doing in here?” he spat and you almost wilted under his glare.

“Barnes?” your soft voice was calling and it took Bucky a second to come back to reality, the warm light enveloping his room allowed him to quickly assess that he was here, he was safe, and your silhouette beside the bed was a non-threatening entity, he sharply released the grip he had on your wrist and sat up in the bed, his face was foul and you stood for a moment nursing the wrist he had gripped so tightly you were sure it would break.

“You were crying out my name. I thought you were in danger- I didn’t realise it was a nightmare.”

“I am in danger. We’re all in danger as long as you are under this roof.”

He hated you, so why did the expression of hurt that flashed across your face make him regret his words for just a second, before you quickly masked it like the good assassin you had been trained to be, and he swallowed down the regret. 

“I’m trying to make up for it. All of it,” you said finally, in a voice that was too small and not your own, “Neither of us are who we used to be, I know I can’t go back and undo all the bad I did but you won’t even give me the chance to try and do some good now.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Bucky spat “I had no say in anything I did. But you-” his voice was accusatory and he didn’t care now that there were tears in your eyes.

“You think that I had a choice?” you cried.

“They had to torture me, repeatedly. Wipe my memory, repeatedly to get me to do the things I did. You skipped into it all willingly.”

He watched your mouth open and close trying to formulate words, hand still clutching the wrist he had injured and tears pooling, dangerously close to falling.

“The rest of the team might be buying into this nicey nicey bullshit but don’t forget that I have seen the real you,” he spat and before you could stop yourself you spat it back.

“And I saw the real you.”

You wanted to take it back as quickly as it fell from your lips but the damage of the words had been done as you watched Bucky’s expression change and your throat burned with the want to cry.

“I will stay out of your way Barnes. You have made it very clear what you think of me and I can see now that you will never give me the second chance that was given to you. After this night we have nothing to say to each other.”

“Just get out,” he sighed slinking back down into his bed and flicking his bedside lamp off, he heard you shuffle gently out of the room and you made it precisely to the close of his door before you erupted into tears, a huge sob leaving your chest as you gulped for air.

He pretended not to hear it.

You had both hurt each other this night but neither of you would admit to it.

You were no longer first in the training room, eager and ready to learn and train with him.

There was no more coffee brewing in the morning for him.

No baked goods on the counter, no family dinners and any time he bumped into you in the corridor now, there were tears in your eyes.

He didn’t care, he told himself. So why did he?

“What’s wrong, please talk to me?” he heard Yelena pleading with you one night and your harsh, biting “Please just leave me alone!” followed by the dejected slam of your bedroom door made his heart heavy as Yelena emerged from your room, shrugging his way in defeat as they passed each other in the hallway. 

Bob could sense it like a moth to a flame, he was afraid to get too close now for fear the other guy would appear and pull everyone back into the void. You understood, of course you did, but it was another hurt to add to your list of hurts.

You were depressed and there was no other way to describe the depth of the darkness you were feeling.

“You know it is a condition of your pardon, and of being on this team,” she scolded.

Val was berating you in hushed tones in one of the conference rooms and Bucky really tried not to eavesdrop but it was a curse of his super hearing.

And you were stood arms pulled defensively around yourself, eyes locked on the ground.

“Not going to your court-mandated therapy is just not an option Y/N.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” you sighed “No amount of therapy or sorries can change what I’ve done,” you cried and Val tutted and swatted you on the arm.

“Honey, it’s not about whether you’re sorry or not. It’s whether the public thinks you’re sorry and can trust you.”

“Well they shouldn’t!” you shot back and Val rounded on you.

“You need to snap out of it. Okay this pity party, invitation for one, it’s not cute. You have a job to do and if you can’t show up to your fucking therapy and slap a smile on that pretty face of yours, I will find someone else who can do it.” 

A movement in the corridor caught your attention and you locked eyes with Bucky through the glass walls of the conference room and as he passed by his face was conflicted. He hated you, so why did seeing you so upset break his heart? 

“Y/N,” she cried.

“She’s gone!” Yelena burst into the living room, brandishing a piece of paper around crying, Alexei rising to grasp the note and asking her who.

“But,” Bob interjected, grasping the note from Alexei, reading it quickly, “But she didn’t even say goodbye.”

Bucky grasped the note and scoured it quickly himself, “I’m so sorry I just can’t do it anymore.”

His heart was thumping in his chest and he suddenly felt hot everywhere.

“Yelena, where would she go? Where is her family?”

“Family?” she shot back “Bucky, I met her in the Red Room, there is no family!” she said it accusatory like it should have been obvious.

Suddenly your words from a few weeks ago came back to hit Bucky like a freight train,

“You think that I had a choice?”

Bucky had been so intent on seeing you as complicit in the actions of HYDRA, that he hadn’t taken a moment of clarity to look into your history.

“They broke her legs because of me,” Yelena cried and Bob squeezed her reassuringly on the shoulder because of course he had seen it in the void.

“I messed up a mission and even though we were all trained to be cruel and selfish and to not care about anybody else, she took the blame for me. I can still hear her screams.”

Bob was crying too, and Bucky suddenly came to the realisation that he had heard those screams too. 

“And she would just leave me now without saying goodbye?”

“No, this is my doing,” he said softly “It’s on me to put right.”

“I want to come too,” Yelena begged as Bucky was packing a backpack.

“She wanted so badly to be your friend,” Yelena sighed, there was no blame there or any accusatory tone, but Bucky sighed there really fucking should have been.

“I got this one wrong,” he told Yelena honestly and she reached forward to grasp his hand.

“Put it right,” she begged and he promised her faithfully that he would.

Your stomach ached from hunger but you could not bring yourself to eat, in fact you couldn’t actually remember the last time you had eaten.

The night sea air whipped your hair wildly around and you pulled your cardigan tighter around your body, the large moon illuminating the water was the only source of light on the beach.

You slipped out of your shoes, leaving them on the small wooden boardwalk, and stepped out into the dunes, relishing in the cold squishy feel of the damp sand around your feet.

The sea was calling your name and you were ready to walk into her open arms, you just wanted to feel something, anything at all and the crashing coldness of the waves had always been your way of feeling the most alive.

The tide brought the waves in until a crashing wave covered your bare feet and you kept walking until you were knee deep in the icy waters.

Even if there were tears cascading down your cheeks this was the happiest you had felt in weeks.

You thought about the joy in finding Yelena again, the little sister you never had, and Bob, the way he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars.

And Alexei who told you the same stories over and over again, but you let him with a good natured patience because life had not been the kindest to him either.

But the thoughts of Bucky wiped any smile off your face in an instant.

You had admired him for the longest time. Before you had even become a part of the team. He had given you hope when you first decided to go straight, to take the hands that had injured and killed and lips that had lied so easily and try to do some good with them.

You saw yourself in him and so you had tried with all your might to show him how much you respected him. You trained harder than anyone else. You made him coffee every morning because you heard his screams all throughout the night but every day he looked at you like a piece of shit on his boot and it was slowly killing you.

You were waist deep in the icy water now and a few more steps you would be under, you took a deep breath bracing yourself and plunged, the coldness hit you like a punch to the gut and you had to struggle against the current, but you were suddenly grasped around the middle and hoisted out of the depths, all air knocked from your lungs and flung down onto the wet sand of the shore in a matter of seconds.

His long hair was clinging to his skin and it became evident that he dived in after you, to rescue you, his cobalt, icy eyes scanning you all over until they settled into boring into your own.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky was panting before you, face laced with concern and panic as he cupped your face inspecting you for any sign of harm.

He didn’t remove his hands from your face.

“I didn’t- it isn’t what you think! I just wanted to feel something. Anything. Other than guilt and shame.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I got this all wrong, it was never about you, it was about me and I took it all out on you. That was so fucking unfair.”

He hated the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, “I understand,” you swallowed “I understand why you hated me, I should have left sooner- I didn’t deserve a place on that team,”

“Y/n, stop,” he shook you gently but with purpose “I only hated you because I looked at you…and I saw me.”

You flinched, confusion written all over your features and he watched you trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“Everything I can’t stand about me, it’s right there in you. But people love you, they accept you for it. You walk into a room and you light it up, your laughter fills that tower and people levitate towards you. When people look at you, you hold your head up high and you own your past. And when people look at me- I burn. I burn under the shame.” 

The silence was thick and the air heavy as you looked at each other, aching for the other to understand.

“I thought if I pushed you hard enough, you would crack under the weight. That you would break the way that I did. The nightmares, the screaming - I know you hear it. I thought if I could break you down too, then I wouldn’t feel like such a broken, utter failure..”

This time you could not mask the hurt across your face.

He had used you as an emotional punch bag and somewhere beneath the hurt you were feeling there was an understanding for why Bucky had done what he had done, but that still hurt.

“But you didn’t crack. You showed up every single day, coffee brewed, ready and willing for me to batter you in training or berate you at every chance and you never once looked at me like the fucking monster that I am.”

“You’re not,” you cried shaking your head in his hands, “Bucky you’re not a monster.” 

Bucky, not Barnes, not Seargent or worse James, Bucky and it cracked open something fragile inside of him.

“I don’t hate you,” he cried, brushing a thumb across your cheek and you shivered.

You took a small step forward and he let you, he didn’t flinch or try to move away, just shivered under the weight of your gaze.

“I want to stop fighting with you. Have wanted to from day one, I just don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

You ached to reach out to him, to caress him and tell him all was forgiven but you were scared.

You could feel it in the tension between you now, that everything had changed, that there would be no going back to how it was before.

Scared that he would suddenly snap- that he would push you away again.

You had tried to be tender to him before and ended up hurt.

And his words echoed somewhere deep inside you “I only hated you because I looked at you…and I saw me,” they weighed on you from the inside out, did he really only see the worst of himself in you?

So you did nothing, except listen to the sound of the waves crashing in the background and the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears.

But he looked at you then, straight into your eyes- into your very soul. And there was no hatred there, no anger, just something undeniably vulnerable, raw and human.

He was looking at you like he wanted to ask you to stay but he just didn’t know how to and so before you could overthink it you closed the distance between you, placing a trembling hand to his face, your thumb brushing delicately across the stubble on his jaw and he leaned heavily into your touch.

“I’m scared,” you admitted honestly and he brought his flesh hand up to hold yours against his face, “I’m really scared because I think I’ve loved you all this time and I can’t go back to how it was before. If you don’t stop adding flames to that fire of anger you feel inside you- it’s going to burn everything to the ground, you and me included, and I can’t watch it happen again…I won’t.”

He squeezed your hand in acknowledgement, face a storm of pain.

“Will you just let me try?” he pleaded voice soft and broken, “I want to try..for you.”

Softly and apprehensively, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

His breath shuddered but he didn’t pull away, arms locking around your frame and pulling you closer until you were flush against him, his arms shook around you and when the first tear fell, it fell against your own cheek.

He was crying into the kiss and you let him, hands flying up to cup his jaw, and he allowed himself to be this vulnerable for you.

You deserved it, the honestly and the vulnerability- for the way he had treated you.

He finally pulled away, just a fraction, to look at you. Really look at you.

His eyes were stained red from tears but he made no attempt to hide.

“Come back to the tower with me?” it wasn’t a request but a begging, “I can’t go back there without you. Can’t go back to what I was and I can’t face it without you. Come home, where you belong.”

“I’ve never belonged anywhere,” you cried and Bucky’s heart shattered because he knew how that felt all too well.

“Perhaps we can find where we belong, together,” it was hopeful and raw and you were nodding in his arms.

And yes you would belong with him, and to him.

Yes you would come home.

Because you already did. 

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helen-2003 shortnloud scott-loki-barnes @whitedarkmoonflower @thenameswinter99 @winterslove1917

[broodybuck]

Title: Broken Rules

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, one-night stands, rough sex, plot what plot/porn without plot, no kissing rule

Summary: After you get dumped, you want to stick it to your ex with a no-strings-attached, filthy one-night stand. You find an attractive man sitting at the bar, he should do.

[ao3 link]

That's it, I'm having a one-night stand, you decide. You're adamant about the idea even though it's not typically your vibe. You like connection, you like relationships. But if your boyfriend can break up with you on your seven-month anniversary then you can have a fucking one-night stand.

You see him at the bar. The place is pretty dead since it's a Tuesday night so there are limited options. Still, you would label this guy as out of your league. Too hot for you. He has short brown hair, cheekbones straight out of Hollywood, and a sharp jawline to match. He's dressed in a tight leather jacket and dark jeans.

Normally, you wouldn't go for a guy like this. Because as much as you know your beauty, you're typically labeled in the cute category, the pretty category. But he's gorgeous, model-level.

You stride up to him as confidently as you can manage and claim the seat next to him. He lowers the drink from his mouth slowly, glancing over at you skeptically. He's probably wondering why you chose the barstool right next to him when there are about eight other ones open. To get in those tight pants of yours, you answer him in your mind.

You smile at him, glad you kept on the tight red dress that was meant for dinner with your ex tonight. He notices, his eyes scanning down as subtly as possible. You feel a flash of heat hit your cheeks. The thought of this stranger getting under your dress, having access to every inch of you, makes you feel insane and hot all over. But tonight is different. Tonight, you're having a one-stand stand with a handsome stranger.

You smooth your hand over the sleeve of his jacket. He tracks your movement like a hawk.

"What're you drinking?" you ask sweetly.

"Whiskey," he clears his throat.

He seems more thrown by this than you'd expect. You would have assumed he gets hit on constantly, has one-night stands by the plenty — wherever he cares to.

You signal the bartender over and order two shots. The man beside you keeps eyeing you quizzically. But when the shots arrive, he accepts the one you slide over to him. He downs the shot with you.

You smile, licking your lips as you mask the face you want to make from the bitterness burning your throat. He looks impressed. Good, you think, you're here to impress and get fucked.

"I've had a shitty night," you tell him. "Really looking for a distraction."

Your tone is hinting enough. His eyebrows lift with surprise. He turns his body toward you.

"Another?" he asks and you nod.

You both take another shot, then it feels much easier to ask if he lives nearby. He does and after staring him down, he invites you back.

He keeps a hand hovering over your lower back as you walk to his place. You only stumbled twice so it's really unnecessary but it's a sweet gesture, you suppose. He helps you up the stairs of his stoop by taking your hand. You thank him but remind yourself that tonight is meant to be dirty, quick — meaningless.

Inside his apartment, you decide another rule for tonight.

"No kissing," you tell him.

He looks so confused, it's honestly cute. The way his brows furrow so deeply and his mouth parts open. He looks like a lost puppy, begging to be kissed.

Stop it, you reprimand yourself. He's not cute. He's here to fuck you.

You march forward, grab onto his leather jacket, and yank it backward down his arms. He doesn't stop you, he seems aware of what's about to happen regardless of his prior confusion.

His face dips forward and then stops. He blinks, pressing his mouth tight, and you try to ignore the fact that he almost kissed you. Already. You move onto the belt of his jeans, prying it open along with the fly of his pants.

"Gonna make me do all the work?" you tease.

You yelp when he hooks your legs and instantly lifts you up in one quick motion. You wrap both arms around his neck and ignore your impulse to inhale his mouth hungrily.

He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down carefully on the bed. Your legs remain helpfully spread around his hips. He moves slowly now, more slowly than you'd like, as he glides both hands up your thighs. He pushes the hem of your dress up as he goes. This dress is so damn tight that it moves rigidly but he works it over your hips to reveal the lacy thong you're wearing.

He breathes in heavily, staring down at it. You flush warm again. He's so hot, you want him inside you. And you don't normally think something like that so quickly.

You reach out, instinctually moving to frame his face and drag him down into a kiss, but you stop yourself just in time. You still pull his face down but instead, move his mouth in between your thighs.

You hear him breathe sharply once more. Then he dives forward so quickly that you gasp when he tears the thin material of your thong with one hand. His mouth, his tongue, is on you the next moment. You suck in a moan, your thighs unintentionally squeezing together, but he holds them apart with his hands as his tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly. Next, he kisses it, mouths around your most sensitive area, and then sucks.

"Ooh god, yes," you cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

This was a damn good idea, you think, as you cry out again when he adds his thumb. Switching between his mouth and fingertip.

"Fuck, please," you pant.

He cruelly stops right then and sits back. The sight of his mouth glistening with your wetness makes you shiver. He reaches into his boxers and pulls himself out. He barely gives you a chance to get a good look before he's pushing inside of you.

His face hovers above yours as he bottoms out. He stares down at you, and you want to kiss him, but you need to stick to your dumb rule. This night means nothing, this night is only a fuck you to your ex.

He swallows, then his mouth stays open in a pout as he thrusts into you again. Your eyes squeeze shut, you grab onto him tightly.

Each thrust gains strength but he fucks you slowly. Ramming into you harder each time and stilling when he's buried inside of you as if for you to savor it. He's big which means each slam of his hips jolts you back on the bed and you feel yourself stretching to fit him each time.

His hands find your breasts now, cupping them in his hands, and his breath shakes. You find yourself amazed that he seems so taken with you. You're not sure your ex-boyfriend ever looked at you this way. Like you're an art piece he has to study, memorize.

He presses into you again. But this time when he draws back, he gives up the slow, hard pace and fucks you faster, steadily. It instantly makes your skin blaze, you pulse around him, your body hungry for him.

He groans, feeling it. He falls forward so close to your face, but his eyes snap shut. You hold him by the jaw, craving to close the space, but you refuse. He pushes forward and fucks you harder.

"Fuck, right there," you squeal.

He keeps himself there, fucking you right where you want it until you're too close.

"Yes—more—please," you whimper.

He grunts in your ear and doesn't stop. He grabs hold of your thighs, pushing your legs up, still plowing into you.

Then, you're coming so fast you can't think straight. It's never usually so abrupt, so intense. But you're levitating up, clambering to hold onto him as your body jolts and shakes with the shock of your orgasm flooding through you.

"God, god, ahhhhgn," you yell right in his ear but it doesn't phase him, he's still fucking you like his life depends on it, like you'll die if he doesn't prolong this orgasm for as long as humanly possible.

And it's so much. Waves of pleasure won't stop washing over you that when he plunges into you and groans brokenly, you're actually relieved that he's coming.

You're holding onto him so tightly, he doesn't pull out of you for a long time. He lies with you, breathing into your neck, warming your skin as you try to recover from your high.

And fuck, how was that so much better than the last seven months with your ex? Why haven't you been having more one-night stands, you wonder.

Finally, he sits up and looks at you.

"I'm Bucky, by the way," he smiles crookedly.

It's adorable, goddammit.

"I'm y/n."

"Don't hate me," he says and you're about to question what he means when he leans down and kisses you.

You don't hate him, far from it. You grab his face and devour his mouth, his tongue. You're desperate for it. You never thought you'd miss kissing so much. What a dumb, dumb rule.

You whine when he pulls back, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"That was torture," he huffs, "not kissing you."

You swallow thickly. "I didn't want tonight to mean anything."

He makes that endearingly confused face again but this time, it's mixed with discontent.

"My boyfriend just broke up with me," you explain quickly. "I was mad."

He slowly pulls out of you and backs away from you. You want to pull him back, not let him leave. He rolls next to you on the bed and lets out a long sigh.

"It's not you, that was… more amazing than it should've been," you confess.

He looks over at you and blinks, his face softening.

"Forget that guy," he says and rolls onto his side to caress the side of your face. "I'll make you forget about him... if you let me."

The offer is more tempting than it should be. This wasn't supposed to go anywhere. When you first saw him in the bar, you didn't even think he'd be interested.

"As long as I can kiss you," he adds.

You laugh unexpectedly because it sounds so ridiculous that this incredibly hot, well-endowed man not only wants to fuck you again but needs to be allowed to kiss you. And you want it all too. So much you need to laugh at how wrong... or right this night has gone.

You dive forward and kiss him. Through the elated breath he inhales, he sounds pleased and kisses you more deeply.

"Sorry for my dumb rule," you break to say. "Kiss me all night."

Bucky smiles and happily pulls you right back to his lips.