#fatws drabble

[hughiecampbelle]

Dread (Bucky Barnes Oneshot)

Character/s: Bucky

Word Count: 1,824

A/N: Ahhhh okay I don't really talk about it here, or to anyone lol, but last year I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder. I still feel like "it" wasn't bad enough and idk, I'm afraid if I did tell someone, they'd say what I'm thinking. My extended family can't handle this kind of info and my mum is dealing with the same thing, so I end up taking care of her even when things are bad. I've been having a lot of trouble the past few months days with sleeping and I thought I'd write about it. I'm using my emotional support Bucky lol. Anyways, just a therapy fic. Things will go back to normal asap! 💜💜💜

You shatter. Like glass, like snow, like silence. Bursting into thousands, millions,of  infinitely beautiful pieces. You glitter under the light, between his fingers. Oh y/n, the pity dripping from his voice like honey, thick and sweet across his teeth, oh no. You splinter, cracking right down the middle. Cheekbone and shoulder blade and fractured, punctured vertebrae compress together into one anonymous pile of bone. Pile of you. Collected into dust pans, into willing palms. All serrated edges and knife like anger, hurt and screaming and ashamed. He nicks himself on you, on a tooth or empty eye socket, slicing himself open. Sorrysorrysorrysorry. The words tumble from your mouth as it falls apart, crashing into the floor, scattered everywhere. He waves you away. He deserves it, he thinks, he says, he insists. You deserved it, too. It was your fault. You didn’t fight back. You didn’t scream. You didn’t tell them. No, he argues, the thoughts breaking through your open wounds. Drawn by ice pick, your skin chipped, two words the play on loop. My. Fault. No, his is angry now, speaking to the fragments. Don’t say that. Don’t- don’t say that. Okayokayokayokay. In secret though, when he has his back turned, attention carried away, you think it very quietly. Over and over until there is no more space left, until you fear you will splinter all over again. Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault. 

He used to try to fill the silence. Frantic in the dark, blinded, left to wander, searching for the switch. The bedside lamp spills her light across the room. You can name everything in it. An unmade bed. Two tables. Two lamps. Two people, sleep deprived, scared to death for the same reason. He used to try to fill the empty space with every question that came to mind. Beneath his voice you sniffled, your heart beating in your ears, pounding too loud. Beneath the sound you tried to catch your breath, gasping for air, trying to fill your lungs, your blood, your body. You can still feel it, you can still hear it, the dream indistinguishable from reality. He used to talk until he was out of breath, until there was nothing left to ask, hoping he would be able to better understand. Why you were doing what you did, why this happened sometimes, who did this. He doesn’t do that anymore. Now he knows. It was a guessing game, a series of assumptions. Fragmented ideas sewn together, the gaps numerous and wide, a series of events and half-truths constructed poorly to make a story. Holey. Holy. And then, once, only once, you told him. You told him everything, unable to look at him for a long time, unable to stop yourself. You put what you’ve never been able to into words. And then he stopped. 

He finds you under the bed. You’re not sure when it became the place, the space to occupy. A habit. Maybe when it started, all those years ago, crying beneath the exoskeleton, needing to feel hugged without the threat of human touch. Maybe it wasn’t suffocating like the closet or exposed out in the open like behind the bedroom door. Maybe it was the last place they would ever find you, the last place to look. Seven years old. Eleven, thirteen, fifteen, seventeen all over again. It makes you feel so small, so little, as if no time has passed. As if those versions of you have been stuck under there all this time. He finds your part of the mattress empty, blankets dragged down as if they’d gotten caught on something. He follows the sound of crying. Soft sobs escape you, the cool of the floorboards cold beneath your cheek. On his hands and knees, his t-shirt loose around his arms, his hair disheveled. Eye-level now. There is sorrow in those blue eyes, pity, but something more. Something that makes you want to curl around him, hold him, let him cry as you are now. Understanding. Recognition. 

What a dangerous thing. 

It’s happened again. The dream with the boy, the dream with the man. His knee between your legs. Spreading them. Pushing into you. On your stomach. You can’t move or speak, you can’t fight. It happened again and now you can’t stop feeling it, experiencing it. Like looking into the mouth of a wolf, counting his teeth, believing naively that you are safe with your hand halfway down his throat. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. It doesn’t matter where you go or who you pretend to be. They follow you. They haunt you. That fucking laugh. Hysterical, cynical, a warning before his hands crawled all over you. You hear it now, under the bed, far from him. You hear it all the time. Strangers look like him. A flash of panic spreads in your chest before you realize it’s someone else. Before you name yourself paranoid, crazy. Again? It’s barely above a whisper. His voice is so thin, so shaky, as if afraid any louder would scare you away. He shouldn’t have to ask. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, with you. You nod, your hands balled into you, your knees to your chest. Yesyesyesyesyes. Againagainagainagain. 

He doesn’t put his hands on you. Not now, not ever. He doesn’t say the things that have been said about you, your body, the space you are forced to occupy. He doesn’t have the thoughts that they had or the urges or the good sense to target someone who would never say anything. Staring at one another. He knows. Not the details, or the guys, or the boys, but he knows. Parts of the past play on loop. Moments he wishes he could forget, destroy, set aflame. Moments that haunt him even on a bright, sunny day where he feels as if nothing bad has ever happened. Even then, there is a ringing in his ears. There is something small and deep that tells him he is running away from something inescapable. That he is a fool for believing he could ever move on. 

It’s too late to say anything. It’s too late to do anything. You can’t remember their names, their faces. You don’t remember when it started, only that it did. It’s never really stopped since then. What a waste, you think, what a terrible waste you’ve become. Two children who would be laughed at, who would be made into jokes, who would grow up and live life with the knowledge that they are not immune to terrible things. He doesn’t join you under there. Instead, he rolls on his back, arm stretched outward, his hand, his wrist, his fingertips rest at the edges of the shadow. His eyes cast upward in awe as if he were looking at a sky full of stars and not a vast blankness of white ceiling. Eventually, your hand will find his. Millimeters away, not yet touching, close enough to feel though. That’s all you have to offer in this moment. He will take it. He will take nothing. But he will never take everything like they have done. You’re on your stomach, your back, always crying. Always trying to get away, but they are too strong, too powerful. They are bigger than you. 

They will say and do things that make you feel dirty. Soiled. Broken. You will scrub your skin raw, but it’s a feeling that never dissipates. It never goes away. You used to hide in the shower. Midnight, one, two, three. He’d hear the water going, see the steam. You’d appear, scrubbed anew and smelling like coconut. Sweet. Summery. Familiar. Your eyes would be rimmed red. Bloodshot. You’d make up an excuse. Anything to get away with it. Along the way you stopped. Along the way you realized the water could never be hot enough, you could never wash away the pieces of you they took. Under the bed it was. You prayed he wouldn’t wake up, that you wouldn’t disturb him, but it never worked. You prayed like that, before, before they did what they did. You gave up on God like He’d given up on you. It only seemed right. Fair. He used to search the entire apartment, calling out your name, his heart suddenly in your throat. Petrified you left him, petrified something terrible happened.  Now he knows what to expect. He knows the place. You lay like that, barely touching, trying to catch your breath, until one of you falls asleep. Eventually, the other follows.

The morning comes. Her warm light welcomes you. You watch him for a while, quietly, running your eyes over the hard line of his jaw, the softness of his cheek, the bridge of his nose. Your finger will draw stars, and circles, and hearts into the floorboards. The day is welcome. It’s the night when things turn sour. When he wakes, you will crawl out from under the frame. You will shower and dress and move on from what’s been tormenting you. You will play pretend. He won’t push the subject, knowing better now, but he will remain acutely aware of your every move. You’ll grab his hand, his arm, the least frightening act of affection, and walk together. You’ll have your coffee. You’ll talk with Sam. You’ll smile, and laugh, and act as if nothing has happened. It’s always these moments that strike him the hardest: after the nightmares, the feeling, the crying, you have no choice but to pick yourself up and carry on. You’re not overly affectionate, though you show him it’s okay, things are better now. Tentatively, his hand finds its way on the small of your back. You let him. 

Tonight it will happen all over again. That dream will come. You will hide. He won’t wake up, though. Tonight he will sleep through it. You will join him in the bed before he realizes, before his eyes open, before he comes to. He thinks things are getting better. And they will, but for now this is how it will be. Two things can be true at once. Two people can exist in a single body. Today, you are you, but the sun will set and that child will take over and you can do nothing but let them. Two realities can exist. Here, you will thrive. There, you are allowed to crumble. He will place his hand on your back. He will refill your mug. He won’t take this light mood for granted. He knows what comes next. He knows the emotions you place in the closet just to exist here, in this room, with these people. He knows because he does the same.

You will thank him quietly, for putting up with you, for dealing with you, but he will always shake his head, unsure of how to put his exact thoughts into words. He’s never minded taking care of you. You’re worth it. You always have been.

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

FMSOYS Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier Masterlist

my main masterlist

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. (that includes not allowing my manips to be used on TikTok, Instagram, Pinterest, etc.)

I have created an AO3 and am slowly beginning the process of sharing my old fics there as well. Tumblr and AO3 are currently the only places I'm posting my works.

PLEASE ONLY INTERACT WITH FICS MARKED 18+/SMUT IF YOUR AGE IS IN YOUR BIO/PINNED OR I WILL BLOCK YOU. Thanks!*

★ Series

Names (Series - Fluff, Angst)

Bucky | Barnes | Buck | Sarge | Jamie | Soldat | Love | James | Epilogue

Following Orders(Smut/18+, Steve x Reader x Bucky)

Part 1 | Part 2

The Lighthouse(Series - Unfinished)

PART 1

White Widow (Series - Fluff, Angst, Smut)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 (Smut)| PART 10 (Final)

★ One Shots

Pongo and Perdita(Fluff)

Cure(Smut/18+, Frank Castle x Reader x Bucky)

Pink Roses(Fluff)

Way Over Yonder(Smut/18+)

The Proposal (Fluff)

Why Are You In My Bed?(Fluff)

Sex with Bucky Drabble (SMUT/18+)

I Must Have Done Something Good (Angst, Fluff)

To the Stars and Back (Fluff)

★ Drabbles and Blurbs

General Bucky HCs

Bucky Overstimulating Reader (SMUT/18+)

★ Manips (DO NOT POST ANY OF THESE ON PINTEREST, TIKTOK, ETC!!!)

Brooklyn Boy

Stucky in the 40s

Stucky Now

Bucky Modeling

Morning View

Safe with Me

★ Moodboards

★ Bucky GIFs can be found on my other blog FMSOYS

[thegoodwitchsworld]

I once believed love would be black and white..... But it's golden.

Warnings- fluff, nightmare, panic attack

Pairing- Bucky x reader

Y/n woke up with a gasp-clutching the bed sheets to her, her heart which was pounding away like a jackhammer in her chest. She looked over to find Bucky still sleeping next to her- he hadn't woken up yet, thank god. She didn't want to explain to him what she had seen in her dream. Maybe she would try to sleep again?

Y/n closed her eyes and lay down to sleep again. But as soon as she did, her mind began chanting on its own- "There's a bad presence here. There's a bad presence here." Her eyes opened wide again. She could almost feel it- something bad, something dark looming over her- something which threatened to hurt her if she dared to close her eyes. Her heart knew she should trust her instincts. She sat up. Besides her, Bucky stirred.

"Hey doll, what's wrong?" He whispered to her softly, wrapping her in his arms. Y/n started shaking then-violently. Bucky struggled a little to hold on to her-she was pushing him away, and soon she started to shout and scream.

"No-stay away-stay away from me Bucky—there's a bad presence here....stay away!" She screamed at him, pulling away from his grasp. But Bucky knew her and her mind- he kept holding on as she sobbed into his chest. He held her as she slowly calmed down-he knew she needed to feel safe. Her tears stopped eventually. Her ragged breaths resounded in the quiet room.

In a few minutes he felt her breathing turn softer. He sat for a while then-his chin resting on the top of her head, and her small body against his bare chest, her fingers splayed across his skin. He remembered how the first time she had had her nightmare next to him, she had refused to even acknowledge it- because she was afraid he too would think she was weak and stupid and being over-dramatic-just like her mom did. She had learned to trust him somewhat, little by little every day- and he wanted to protect her from every bad thing in the world and tell her it was okay to be weak and that she didn't have to hide it from everyone else all the time.

He kissed her lips softly, then went to sleep holding her the same way as before.

–x–

He watched her with a smile as the light hit Y/n 's closed eyelids-she was lying on the sheets-all tangled up in them like a Disney character. He grinned as she scrunched up her face as she slowly woke up, trying to shield her eyes from the rainbow colored lights with her fingers. They colored her skin and lit her up beautifully, and Bucky, who thought there was no way he could have ever loved someone more, felt himself fall for her all over again.

"Bucky!" Y/n giggled as she finally saw what he was doing. She threw off the covers then, and skipped over to him and snatched the piece of glass right out of his hand. She aimed the light beams from the sun at him now, and they both giggled and laughter filled the room as they chased each other around, till Bucky caught her and lifted her up by the waist. He made her sit on the window-sill, and she smiled and looked in his eyes. Her fingers were still playing with the glass piece- she was fascinated by the colors on his smooth marble skin.

Bucky watched her then, as she looked at him as if he were her sun-and Y/n whispered, "I could stare at you forever and never get bored."

He smiled, and took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, warm kiss which tasted of sunny mornings and laughter and yellow.

And they both thought in their hearts- 'This is what love is supposed to feel like.'

[sweetbabygirlsworld]

This is heavy and sadly real, but definitely a must read, it's so beautifully written that it represents how it feels to be a women, I really applaud you for writing this ❤️

Female Rage

Paring: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks it’s a success when the team manage to uncover a Hydra human trafficking operation targeting women and girls. Reader knows it’s only a drop in the ocean of patriarchal violence towards women.

A/N: This was very cathartic for me to write. I carry around all these feelings and fanfic allows me to outlet them. Thanks for being part of it <3

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This fic discusses systematic issues around violence towards women and has mentions of trafficking, sexual violence, domestic abuse and murder.

The sirens, the flashing blue lights, and all of the people around you overwhelmed your senses. Your body became a mere vessel which moved without any control or instruction. A part of your soul had died but you had to keep going.

All around you were women and young girls who, just an hour prior, were being held in a lorry and were being trafficked to a covert Hydra base. The purpose of the operation was an early stage attempt to revive the Red Room but with a team of you, Bucky, Sam and Yelena you were able to put a stop to it.

Having managed to track the lorry down to the specific coordinates, you infiltrated the mission. They had been driving on a long and quiet country road, seemingly hidden by the cascades of giant trees in an extensive woodland. A nasty fight with the Hydra agents ensued when you and Yelena caught up with them in an Audi, while Bucky met them head on with a motorcycle and Sam flew in and took the roof. It concluded with them being hauled away in handcuffs but you wish you’d killed them.

Then came the aftermath.

The scene seemed to be carrying on around you without any of your input, as though you could disappear and nothing would have changed. Government officials, policemen and ambulances had arrived to assist in getting these women to safety. You were supposed to be directing them to safe points, instructing the paramedics and police officers on what to do next but the more you tried to focus, the harder it got.

Each time one of the victims thanked you, it sent an ugly shudder down your spine. An abnormally large shaped lump swelled in your throat, rendering a response impossible. All you could offer was a solemn nod, which somehow, they managed to receive your true meaning. An unspoken understanding that could only be shared between women endured throughout all of your exchanges.

Bucky and Sam were still capable of focus as they liaised with officers and helped women, offering more words of encouragement than you or Yelena ever could. Every now and then, Bucky flashed you an encouraging smile, clearly proud of what you were able to achieve today. It was something you couldn’t return.

Ringing in your ears persisted and you flinched as more sirens arrived. You moved without purpose, trying to point in different directions to aid the girls to paramedics if they needed medical attention, and to a police officer if not. Even then, a peculiar feeling churned in your stomach as you stared at the officers, who were all men and mentally cursed that no one in the police department had thought to send any women to this scene. Effectively, it felt like you were passing these girls from one evil, male-dominated organisation to another.

A strong sense of injustice built up tension in your body, harbouring an overpowering reaction, which you were unsure if you could suppress for much longer.

The match in the powder barrel, however, was witnessing a girl who couldn’t have been older than 14 sheltering and comforting two little girls who were terrified and crying for their mother. At first glance, it appeared as though the little ones had no relation to her whatsoever. Yet, this girl had adopted this maternal role which she was far too young to accept. As soon as you saw them safely situated in an ambulance, you decided you couldn’t take this anymore.

Passing by everyone and ignoring calls from Sam, you stormed into the woods, descending deeper and deeper into the trees and the natural beauty of Mother Nature.

You couldn’t remember when you started crying, you just knew that tears streamed down your cheeks. The combination of the tears and the intense headache they brought blurred your vision. You brought your hands to your head and wailed, knowing that no one would hear you.

You thought about how those girls had now secured this trauma and although the Hydra mission hadn’t been completed, this ordeal would alter the courses of their lives forever. This would manifest itself in different ways in all of their lives. They’d never be able to live without the memory of this ever again, tainting their experiences, putting them on their guard, making them cautious of the world and what monsters harboured amongst the humans among them. Honestly, you preferred your chances against Thanos than the men that walked this Earth.

That very concept made you angry. No, not angry. Incandescent.

The lump in your throat was surpassed by a bloodcurdling scream, the sound of which was so terrifying that the birds from the trees desperately flew away in a flock.

It was the only sound that could be heard for miles. All your rage was buried deep inside these woods like it had been in your body for years.

At this moment, this is all you were capable of. You continued to scream despite the scratch it created in your throat, or the fact it had worsened your headache. There was just so much rage contained in your body and you needed to get it out of you, no matter what it took. It was a fury so specific; so intertwined with womanhood and the female experience that no cisgender man could ever comprehend it.

It was female rage.

You were in so much pain. While yesterday you had been wrapped up with Bucky under a blanket, watching TV, eating food, having sex, doing all the normal things one does in a relationship; somewhere else at the same time, this operation was starting. It wouldn’t have been the only one. You were having a carefree day with your boyfriend while elsewhere in the world, men were committing atrocities against women – whether at a systematic level or a domestic one.

You squeezed your eyes shut in aid of your screams. Still without any control, your limbs moved on their own as you started to violently kick and punch one of the trees. Any injury sustained from this frantic display didn’t matter to you. The harsh bark of the tree broke the skin of your knuckles and soon it was decorated with your blood. 

The screams and cries persisted as you channelled this anger into the assault of the tree. You were picturing those Hydra agents with the smug grin on their faces. You pictured the man that groped you in the club without your consent on your last girls’ night. You pictured the images of those incels you had curiously watched interviews with but had to turn your laptop off halfway through. You pictured the men who had refurbished the compound and had stared at you as you trained in the garden. You pictured every man who had ever questioned your ability to keep your emotions in check as a female Avenger.

You pictured them all and you desperately wanted them all to know how fucking helpless and infuriating this all felt. You wanted them to feel the weight of the world just as you had done from being a little girl.

Without warning, some force had pulled you back from the tree and had hauled you close into a smothering embrace. In spite of your blurred vision and your relentless howling, you recognised Bucky’s smell immediately as he held you close to his chest, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly together with his vibranium hand and using his flesh one to put your face in his neck. You struggled against him, feeling suffocated and not having abolished nearly as much fury as you needed to.

“Please, doll, please stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bucky mumbled against your forehead, pressing several gentle kisses to it. 

Nevertheless, you still fought against him. But Bucky was too strong for you and even in the arms of your beloved, you were still trapped by a man.

“Bucky. Let. Me. Go.” You shakily told him with gritted teeth.

“I’m scared to, sweetheart. Your hands… look at them.” He sobbed back, clearly in distress. A quick glimpse at your hands validated his concern. The skin round your knuckles had been torn open and in amongst the blood and mangled flesh lay splinters and chips from the tree.

It wasn’t sore, but the rest of your body was.

“I don’t understand, doll. Did something happen back there to upset you? You saved those girls. We wouldn’t have been able to do that mission without you.” Bucky said gently, loosening his grip only slightly to cradle you lovingly, rather than to protectively restrain you.

It triggered a scoff and even further anger from you.

“That’s not the point! The point is it keeps happening! We saved those girls today, sure. But somewhere out there, another one of those operations is starting and more girls will be hurt. Those operations are going on round the world, Bucky! They want us to be slaves to them in any way they can think of – whether that is to be used as a weapon or for sex or as working mules!

And these men, they’re so fucking clever! They’re making this untraceable! And we won’t be able to save them all. It’s never-ending, we’re trying to scoop up water from the ocean!”

Whether you intended it or not, the words came out as a yell and Bucky let you go. Clearly, none of this had ever occurred to him and your fury scared him. Meanwhile, your hand gestures went wild as you spoke, your facial expressions became more animated. This was only the beginning as your thoughts continued to spill out to the unassuming and gentle man you loved so much.

“And this? This is worst case scenario! Every single day women are subject to the violence of men! We’ve saved those girls, right? And we’re gonna do what? Give them normal homes so they can walk about with their keys in their hands?! We handed them over to fucking police officers who themselves have a history of being violent towards women. The cycle repeats itself!

That’s not the end of it though, these men are in our homes with us. They are beating us, raping us, killing us. We can’t escape them. The good ones aren’t signposted – we just have to trust you and it is the biggest and deadliest risk that we all take.”

Bucky nodded along with you, processing your words and affording you as much space to speak as possible. At first, he was just relieved that you hadn’t resumed your beating on the tree. Then, he began to really listen to you and consume your words and your fury. It horrified him.

In truth, he always appreciated that there was a disproportionate tendency in violence to women and that the world existed on a patriarchal system and that some men were just sexist pigs. Admittedly, this had gotten a lot better than things were in the 40s. However, he had never truly really given it much thought or considered how to change any of it. That was just the way things were. How does one go about revolutionising an entire system? Especially one that appeared to be changing over time as he had suspected.

He took a step forward, holding his arms out for you in case you needed some sanctuary. It was an offer you refused, standing awkwardly and wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your mission jacket. Attempts to comfort you at this point were futile.

“I’m sorry, doll. I have never thought about it like that. I guess it’s because I’ve never had to.” Bucky began with a sympathetic look. “But you can’t do this all by yourself. You did something so good today and you should be proud of yourself for it.”

You sank to your knees, planting your palms in the dirt below you to try and restore some strength to your frail frame. He was right, but he’d never truly understand.

“I just feel so helpless, Bucky. I feel like I’m drowning and every time I put my head above water, someone pulls me back down again.” You explained with fresh, stinging tears. “I’m a fucking Avenger and even I can’t stop this.”

Bucky knelt on the ground in front of you with a sigh, knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn’t make this better for you. It killed him to see his girl so heartbroken and defeated while he could do nothing about it.

“Those girls we saved are going to tell you their stories and you’re going to be upset and you’ll cry for them because you know what it’s like on a human level to be captured and forced to do something you don’t want to do. But you will never understand this pain and fear on a systematic level like I do! To know that you’re inherently in danger just because you were born a woman. I need to stop it. But I don’t know how.”

This time, when Bucky took you in his arms, you let him. The early exertions had exhausted your body and now you were ready to bury your face into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent and feeling safe. The venting had alleviated some of the pain but it still persisted, bubbling discreetly under the surface of your skin, ready to boil again when you were next pushed.

Bucky pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. He appreciated that there was nothing he could say to make you feel better. Instead, he offered himself to you as comfort to take from him what you needed. The real effects of your headache and bloody knuckles came into fruition and you clenched your fists to deal with the physical pain while Bucky rocked you in a comforting motion.

“Promise me one thing, sweetheart?” Bucky asked and took your hum as permission to keep talking. “Promise me that no matter how tough this all gets; you don’t let it consume you. You are the best person I know and I will follow you into any mission, battle or war for this. But please don’t hurt yourself over it or try and deal with it on your own. I love you, please let me help. Tell me how I can be better.”

You held him so tightly that you might crush him, grateful for his support and his pledge of allegiance to your cause. Blinking away tears that threatened to fall you nodded against his neck so that he knew you had understood him.

“I promise. And, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Just know that all this anger and hatred I have towards men and how they treat us never applies to you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Bucky held you there in that spot in the woods for what felt like hours until he eventually carried you home. Fatigue had overpowered your body but your brain was still active, already plotting and planning what you were going to do next and how you were going to use your Avenger status as an advantage.

You wouldn’t change the system overnight but you were going to do everything in your power to rally up as much support as possible. The pain and anger that was deep rooted inside you was converted to raw energy and you had the appetite to make a difference.

Female rage is a powerful thing.

[iamthatonefangirl]

bucky barnes x reader smut drabbles

*subcategory of main bucky barnes x reader masterlist

fatws bucky nsfw alphabet

smut drabbles

raw

toxic

please

listen - part 2

talk

home video

weak

dumbification

toys

alone

obsessive

hesitant

softer smut drabbles

fixation

picture

sensitive

kneel

personification

control

forever

insecure

early morning (newest!)

find more smut asks less than a few hundred words here.

updated 6.7.2025

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Collection of works for James Bucky Barnes in all of his eras.

★ - Smut

Multichapters

Mr. Barnes [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] >>

When Sam brings someone new to his council meetings hosted in the library, the mystery man becomes the hot topic among the librarians.

Barrier★ - Muzzled★

Mask kink with Winter Soldier - face/mask riding with FatWS Bucky

Oneshots

I'm a Believer

Who knew Bucky was starting to appriciate more modern music?

Missing Pieces

After settling back into society, Bucky finds himself a new family.

Old friends, older lovers

John Walker reunites with an old friend of his while hunting down Zemo in Riga. He is very confused when he learns who she's visiting.

Drabbles

Knife twirls

The serum fight

[writer-in-wonder]

just talk to me, kid

sam wilson x platonic!reader (reader is like uni student age)

summary: reader is staying with sam and his family for a little break, but nothing guarantees it’s completely peaceful. enter nosey-but-meaning-well sam

i’ve gotten back into my marvel phase and rewatched fatws and UGH i miss sam and bucky and zemo sm so enjoy a little drabble

“What’s going on?”

You felt yourself tense at the nearing footsteps and voice you knew to belong to Sam. With your back to him as you were still doing the dishes, you tried your best to act nonchalant.

“Look, it’s nothing.” You kept scrubbing away at the pot in your hands. “I didn’t mean to snap at the kids. I’m sorry.” Earlier that evening, your reaction to when the boys had accidentally knocked your drink over made everyone do a double-take. You could feel the look of surprise from Sarah and the knowing stare that Bucky gave Sam even as he was hurrying to pick the glass back up and throwing napkins on the growing stain. You’d felt terrible and made sure to let AJ and Cass know it was okay. That you were just tired.

But Sam wasn’t buying that.

“I know.” He walked a bit further into the kitchen. “But it’s not like you to act like that. Just talk to me, kid.”

“I said I’m fine.” You stood your ground. You knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. But you secretly hoped he would let it go. Let you figure it out.

The faucet kept running in an otherwise stupidly uncomfortable silence before he tried again with a “Y/N-“

“Please, Sam.” You sounded way more exhausted than you meant to. “I just wanna finish these dishes.”

There was a bit of quiet again as neither of you spoke. Finally, he conceded. “Alright. You know you can talk to me.” You nodded with an “I know.” and then felt relief rush through your body as he left you to your task.

As you came back down from the tension of the last few moments, you were flooded with your thoughts. Assignments due, applications to submit. Answering your friend’s texts back. Sarah needed help on the dock tomorrow. Which meant getting up at 5 AM. Oh, and apologize to Sara-

You were brought right back to the present as the gumbo pot you had been rinsing slipped from your hands and fell back into the sink. Loudly. You couldn’t help the huff of exasperation that left your mouth or the heat that rose to your face as you realized Sam had probably seen the whole thing from his spot in the other room. You then realized some of the unwashed ceramic bowls below hadn’t been safe from the cast iron. Great.

Needless to say, Sam was back by your side in a flash. He helped you clean up the mess. Then you two finally talked about what was bugging you.

Anyways, that’s it! Hope you liked it :) Jesus loves you, I love you, and God Bless!

[flxttershyz]

oh i just watched fatws and cabnw, im OBSESSED WITH JOAQUIN TORRES OH EM GEE

you guys will see a cute drabble soon trust.

smirks

[hearts-are-connected]

Tagged by the always lovely @wondrouswendy😊 Thanks for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

18 works so far with way too many works in progress. Haha

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

36,578

3. What fandoms do you write for?

My focus right now is on Alan Wake, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Prodigal Son, White Collar, and Resident Evil.

In the past I've written for The A-Team, Resonance of Fate, and Final Fantasy VII.

4. Top five fics by kudos

Fevered Dreams - James "Bucky" Barnes/Sarah Wilson, FATWS Fic

Family - James "Bucky" Barnes/Sarah Wilson, FATWS Fic

Pain - James "Bucky" Barnes/Sarah Wilson, FATWS Fic

Soak away the troubles - James "Bucky" Barnes/Sarah Wilson, FATWS Fic

Mornings - James "Bucky" Barnes/Sarah Wilson, FATWS Fic

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to always respond to the comments I receive. It's always a joy to hear what others think of my work and I want to thank them for taking the time to do so. I love interacting with my readers.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

They say time heals all wounds is probably my angstiest ending solely because it was written as a tribute to the late James McCaffrey. May he rest in peace.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Fevered Dreams or Until I found you might be my happiest endings solely because I put my male leads, Bucky Barnes and Alex Casey, through the wringer in their respective fics before letting them have their moments of comfort.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't so far, and I'm very grateful for that.

9. Do you write smut?

No, never.

10. Craziest crossover?

I don't really enjoy crossover stories. Only on very rare occasions.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge and I hope I never have to know what that feels like.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Can't say I have.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but @pinkomcranger and I throw so many different ideas and story inspirations around, I think we might as well have by this point. Haha

14. All time favourite ship?

Saga Anderson/Alex Casey

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Resonance of Fate story that I've been editing on and off for over ten years now. I keep wanting to post it, but then I fail to do so because I feel I need to rework something.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I feel that my strengths lie in setting a mood and showing silently exploring relationships between characters. My stories don't normally have a ton of dialogue because I love showing relationships through actions more than words.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not that good when it comes to writing deep plots. Most of my stories are basically drabbles, with the occasional character focused multi-chapter fic.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love it, especially when it's a foreign character slipping into their native tongue when speaking.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Christopher Paolini's Eragon back in 2008.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Wide Awake is definitely one of my favorite stories. It was my first time writing Saga Anderson and Alex Casey as a romantic pair instead of platonic and I'm really proud of how it came out. I adore writing these two characters.

I'll tag @tllgrrl. Her work is fantastic! (if you've been tagged already, sorry for the spam!)❤️

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Do I wanna know? | Chapter one

summary: Bucky really hates when his therapist does the notebook thing and rather walk than sleep, but now he’s mad about his damn leather jacket. And y/n? y/n just wanted to take a bath in peace.

word count: 3.8k (okay, for the first chapters it's going to be a bit short but it'll get better)

listen to: I did something bad -Taylor Swift and Bad blood- Taylor Swift

series masterlist

Bucky Barnes didn’t particularly enjoy talking. He remembered that once he did, god, he couldn’t stop talking when he was younger. He always talked, he blamed it on being raised among women, and honestly, he loved it. He always knew what to say when he wanted to pick up a girl and they loved how they could talk about him about everything and he would keep up with them, and it would make them realize that what they had to say was important, and honestly, it was a change on the other guys that were usually around in the 1940s.

But now, he didn’t enjoy talking with anyone, especially his therapist.

If you got a good look at Doctor Cristina Raynor you wouldn’t catch right away that she had been in the army but once you’d met her, you definitely knew that that woman had been a soldier. Bucky especially realized it when he wasn’t really talking one day, not that he truly did much talking, and she put him in his place as she reminded him that this, the therapy was part of his pardon; but he kept lying, and then she got out her notebook, that damn notebook.

And she had done it again, today, just hours before.

“So, did you ask her for another date?” Dr. Raynor asked as she shifted on her seat while James raised an eyebrow at her.

He had been working on trusting people for a while and nurturing relationships, and he had actually done it. He had gotten closer than ever before with someone, Sam was his friend, some might’ve said best friend and he was close to his family in Louisiana. He had gone there a couple of times with him and now it had become part of Bucky’s safe place, he truly enjoyed it and he thought he had done way too much with taking that risk. But now Dr. Raynor had asked Bucky something that truly terrified him.

“Why would I do that Doc?” he asked nonchalantly as he saw how Dr. Raynor clicked her pen, crossed her ankles, and poised it above her notebook, Bucky rolled his eyes. “Have I told you that it’s really passive-aggressive when you do that?”

“Multiple times,” she sighed as she kept looking at him for answers.

Nonetheless, Bucky truly didn’t have an answer for why he hadn’t asked Leah out again.

She was sweet and she was beyond kind, in fact, he knew that he had some sort of a crush on her but on the date that had not actually been asked by him but by Yori, he realized that he felt utterly uncomfortable and he knew that problem with it was about him, and not her.

“Why didn’t you ask her for another date?” Dr. Raynor asked once again as she stared at him.

“It didn’t feel right,” Bucky mumbled as he finally let the feeling of worthlessness turn into actual words. “ I don’t think like she could understand what I did when I was,”

“When you were brainwashed by a terrorist group for decades?” Dr. Raynor commented as if Bucky wasn’t aware of how ridiculous it sounded to put the blame on him, but he still felt it and he felt the shame of having done the things that he did, it still haunted him.

Bucky felt the heaviness on his chest growing as he recalled the feeling and had to quickly move his gaze away from Dr. Raynor to the wall behind her, his hand formed a fist as he tried to recall any exercise to calm his triggers down, looking away and the fist, usually it could help him control whatever feelings were growing like a dark hole on his chest.

“This is new for me, okay?” He finally let out as he shifted on the large grey couch uncomfortably.

“You are alone, less alone than before but you are still alone,” Dr. Raynor stated gravelly as he looked at him. “Sam is gone for months to this mission and you know that if you are still alone, and do not have a truly have a support system and someone that you can talk to other than Sam it can become a personal hell,”

It’s already a personal hell, Bucky thought as he walked through Brooklyn late at night, thinking about how he wasn’t able to be who he was before everything happened, but then again, when wasn’t he thinking about that.

He couldn’t really sleep some nights and he rather be awake than have nightmares of the many times he made people suffer, of the many ghosts that haunted him. He would walk endlessly through Brooklyn and if he felt like it, he would walk over to Lower Manhattan as well as he relieved his life or at least, whatever he could recall from his life.

He recalled how he would chase girls down the streets for their numbers after they had giggled when they saw him and Steve on the streets of Brooklyn. He recalled when they went to Rockaway Beach together and had spent all of the money they had left so he could buy a beer to a girl named Dolores that had been in the back of Bucky’s mind for months, he had been trying to impress her and she seemed delighted by it.

And now here he was, unable to even ask someone out and with a bloody past.

He grumbled under his breath as he kept walking and looking down the street, he didn’t even care to see what time it was knowing that he would be up for a long time but then Bucky saw something, a red dot, and all the alarms on his body went off at once as he threw himself behind a wall next to where he was walking and without missing a beat a bullet grazed his left shoulders.

Bucky's breathing turned harsher than usual, he could even hear the blood pumping on his ears as he tried to stay as still as he possibly could from behind that wall. Bucky usually didn’t have such a strong reaction from a bullet, a damn bullet, he had to face them all throughout his life and even recently in missions, but he realized that it was because he never expected it. He knew he had enemies, god, so many enemies that probably couldn’t fit on his apartment but this kind of an attack was something he never expected it.

And he was mad about it, his blood started to boil as he realized that someone had been clearly keeping tabs on him and was purposefully trying to take him down.

And even more now that they had ruined one of his favorite black leather jackets.

Slowly, Bucky decided to peek from his hiding spot, and as if it was being signaled by someone, another round of bullets was thrown at him from the roof from the closest building towards him. Bucky hid again as he turned towards other buildings and he realized people were starting to catch up as more and more windows started to cast light upon the streets, people were waking up because of the noise and they could be in danger.

Bucky cursed under his breath as he realized what he had to do, he felt his whole body growing hot, and even before he realized it, he took a hold of the sewage cap on the street and he threw it towards where the red dot was coming from with all the force that he had.

The roar of the sewage cap taking on everything in its way filled the streets, the bullets definitely stopped and a crashing sound roared through the streets, he stayed still for a couple of seconds, hoping that he had at least knocked out the one that had been shooting at him but in that second he caught sight of a dark figure running on the top of the building and he knew he had to catch whoever they were.

The figure with incredible agility jumped from one of the buildings to another and Bucky knew what he had to do. He ran towards the buildings and jumped straight away to the fire escape, before rapidly climbing his way to the roof as he reached the rooftop he was met by a clean kick on his jaw that made him lose his grip on the edge of the rooftop, he fell a floor or two.

Bucky could taste the blood on his mouth as he raised his head and saw that the figure had a black mask over his face with yellow goggles, and they had spent a second making sure that he was down, but that only made him even angrier. He quickly managed to climb right back up as he saw the black figure running through the rooftops of the closer buildings as he raced behind them. The figure quickly caught up to him though and before Bucky realized it, some red beads were thrown at him without any warnings, he felt the electricity running through his body from his neck.

Bucky’s body began to tremble as a red aura came from his where the beads had attached themselves and Bucky felt sick to his stomach, his jaw became rigid as the pulses of electricity ran towards his body and as he closed his eyes he was transported back to the tiny room where his mind was constantly being reset. And as if it was an animal instinct his left arm took a hold of the beads and threw them from the rooftop completely.

Now he was pissed.

“Come here,” he muttered under his breath with a growl before giving them a blow on the cheek with his vibranium arm.

The figure fell onto the floor but soon it started to fight back, Bucky didn’t have time to gather the agility of his opponent as they hit him square in the face and quickly ducked before sliding their leg under him making him trip and fall, but Bucky didn’t last long on the floor. As soon as he fell, he tumbled backward and crouched before launching himself towards the figure with a growl, pushing them towards the edge of the building with all the force he had, the figure handspring at the edge of the building and quickly threw a rope with a claw to the rooftop and before Bucky could even blink, the figure jumped from the building.

Bucky, realizing that he could lose them quickly reached towards the edge and jumped from the building without anything holding him, he landed on the street, rolling from the height and the speed from free-falling before he chased the figure towards a metro station that was still open. The figure quickly jumped over the ticket gates and slid down the center of one of the electric stairs that lead to the platform, Bucky followed it swiftly, and before the figure even landed on the platform Bucky had thrown it down at the floor.

The figure quickly flicked its head back and hit Bucky on the face, setting them free before it was pushing Bucky with its legs away from it. Bucky quickly stood up as well as the figure did, but instead of confronting him, it tried to run but Bucky wouldn’t allow it. He ran towards it and pulled him by the shoulder making them fall to the ground once again but they backflipped quickly and kicked Bucky on his ribs, Bucky took their leg and pulled them closer to him, locking them around the waist and throat, holding them down, within a second, he took off the mask.

Honestly, you believed that you look like a deer in the headlights as your eyes met his steel-blue eyes.

You were too close, closer than you ever wanted to get to James Barnes, to the Winter Soldier, or at least it was the closest you wanted to get before you actually killed him. Nonetheless, your mind felt empty as you looked more and more into his eyes, you were mesmerized by how clear they looked if you were close enough, they seemed like constellations with the specks of grey that he had on them.

Bucky, on the other hand, couldn’t close his mouth as he took you in. He felt like the world around the two of you, as your gazes remained locked, had simply disappeared as you fell silent. There wasn’t push and pull anymore and the adrenaline from the fight seemed to relocate to the adrenaline of being so close to you, he felt like his body was burning everywhere he had contact with you.

But as soon as you heard the train coming, your mind snapped.

Bucky didn’t even have time to realize how easily you escaped from his hold, as you quickly bent and pulled him over yourself so he could stay on the side of the platform farther away from the tracks of the train. Bucky landed hard on the concrete with a thud and as he raised his head, you gave him one last look before jumping into the tracks of the train. Bucky tried to run towards you, and now he didn’t know if it was to catch you or get you out of the evident danger that you were in but he was too late. Before he knew it, the train arrived at a speed that shook him to his core as he believed that you were hit by it. Bucky seemed stuck in the place, unable to actually move as his heart was beating wildly on his chest, the train lasted a minute on the platform, and soon it was moving away, and when it left the station, you were nowhere to be around.

Bucky felt a strange wave of relief on his body as he didn’t see your dismembered body in the tracks but as the seconds passed he realized that minutes before you were actually trying to kill him. Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine as his mind immediately went to Hydra, before walking out of the station, he was already taking his phone out and called one of the ten numbers he had there.

“Ayo, I need your help,” he muttered before he started to walk out of the station.

On the other hand, you were really sore and your body was covered in bruises and a cut on your cheek as you started to fill the bathtub of the small bathroom you the apartment you had rented in Brooklyn. Honestly, you were just not sore but mad at yourself as you realized that you had blown it off tonight, you had completely lost the element of surprise to kill James Barnes and you knew that it would be ten times more difficult to deal with that, and you had planned it perfectly. You’d been watching him for over two weeks now and you were aware that with the dose of super-strength soldier that he had running through his veins, plus being an Avenger, the best thing you could do was avoid hand to hand combat with him, and yet you had fallen into just that.

But your thoughts were dissipated as you heard your phone ringing.

It was Yelena.

“You know, it’s not fun at all that you get to stay in the Upper East Side while I have to stay in Brooklyn,” you complained, with a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you entered the bathtub.

“It’s not my fault that my target it’s wealthier than yours,” Yelena answered back with a laugh. “Plus, I had to do recon too in Lower Manhattan and had to go to a college too,” she commented as she ate something, you thought that it might be mac&chesse by the way she was moaning at the food entering her mouth.

“Isn’t your target extremely old?” you asked with a scrunch-up nose as you wrapped your hair with a towel and finally laid on the bathtub. Your back was killing you and you weren’t sure if it was for the way you had been taken down or just by the way you had held onto the train to escape from the Winter Soldier.

“Yeah, but you know how it goes,” Yelena shrugged mouth still a bit full. “One turns into two, two turns into three, and so on,” she said with a somehow singing voice and suddenly your world shut down, you felt sick as you heard her words and your mind went into the darkest place.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry we didn’t mean to,” the younger widow muttered as she held her throat that had been recently wrapped with your hands.

But you stayed silent as you walked towards here with a menacing glare. You had been assigned a mission, another one that hadn’t turned out exactly how it had been described by you.

Because one widow that had escaped turned into two widows that had tried to kill you.

“You goT her already, PLEASE!” she begged as the blood from her nose trailed into her lips but you couldn’t really do anything, your eyes didn’t even turn to gaze at the body that you already had left.

Before you knew it, your chest started to fall up and down heavily, and as much as you wanted to stop you couldn’t. You quickly kicked her in the ribs and she was falling.

“y/n?” Yelena asked snapping you out of your memories, until then you realized that tears were falling from your eyes and you quickly wiped them away.

“Uhm, sorry I didn’t hear you, what did you say?” you asked her, trying not to make a big deal about it, especially with Yelena who was aware of the sudden dissociation episodes that you were victim to when something triggered your unwanted memories.

They always came on the weirdest moments, something like a videogame or even glasses clinking after having a toast made you go back to the darkest places you’d ever been in. And the worst thing was that you couldn’t even control it. You had to take multiple pills to actually get to sleep and not wake up with nightmares as you believed you’d done those things again. Nonetheless, Yelena had taught you a mechanism to deal with them, “look at your hands and breath, they don’t have blood and it means you’re okay”, she repeated time and time again and it actually helped a lot but sometimes you weren’t even able to check them before an episode began.

“I was asking you about how it went tonight,” Yelena said softly as if she had already caught up at the tone of your voice and the slight tremble it had.

“Oh,” you mumbled, unsure of what to actually bring up from the disastrous evening. “Yeah, not great, he might've seen my face but I’m handling it,” you explained as you tried to make it sound less aggravating, but it would seem like you had failed by the way Yelena shrieked.

“y/n WHAT?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, “No, it was for two seconds but-”

Yelena didn’t let you finish as you felt your heart on your throat by her words, “y/n, this is bad,”

“What do you mean?” you asked her, standing from the shower and quickly wrapping a towel around your body. “You know better than me that Widows are extremely hard to find, if anything he wouldn’t be able to get anything on me, right?”

You were sure that you were hard to find, you were sure that you were implacable at your work, and that you knew by heart how to clean up a scene and not leave anything behind for anyone to find. You had been raised for this, you had been raised to be a ghost, what did Yelena mean?

Yelena stayed silent for a couple of seconds as you looked at yourself in the mirror and realized how pale you actually looked at the moment, how green your face had turned in a couple of minutes. “Right y/n, but Petrovich…”

You felt like your vision had turned upside down as you heard Yelena bringing up his name because you knew how much it caused pain for you, before you could even react you were already leaning against the wall of the bathroom for stability but you quickly fell down into the cool tile floor anyway.

“What?” you asked her with your gummy throat, the spaces of silence between the two of you were killing you, you knew that she was trying to frame it as well as she could but by how cautious she was being you knew that it wasn’t good. “Yelena?” you repeated.

“He made sure that you left a trail of blood behind you,” Yelena finally said gravelly. “That’s why you were one of the first one’s I found,”

Before you knew, your phone was slipping from your hand as it fell on the bathroom floor and you quickly placed your knees up to your chest and wrapped them with your hands as tears started to fill your eyes and soon fall into your body, mixing it with the droplets of water coming from the tub.

James Barnes is going to know, was the only thought that crossed your mind but you weren’t sure how fast it would be, although with the Wakandands on his side you knew it wouldn’t be long.

And it wasn’t.

“I already sent you all the information we gathered,” Ayo instructed seriously through the phone as soon as Bucky picked it up from his place on the coffee table he had.

“Thank you, Ayo,” he muttered as he stood up from his made-up bed on the floor. Bucky didn’t really like to sleep on the bed just yet, he had been trying but on the hardest nights, he just felt better on the hardwood floor than on the bed, he felt like he was being swallowed, although it really wasn’t helping him tonight. “It means a lot to me,”

“Let us know if you get kicked again by another woman, we loved the footage,” Ayo commented mischievously with her low voice, Bucky just knew that they had all laughed at him by the way that you had kicked his ass.

“Yeah yeah, but thank you,” he answered quickly and before he knew it, she hanged up.

Bucky stood up and went to the small desk he had next to the window with a small laptop that was a bit old by today’s standard but that he enjoyed. He quickly opened the file that had been saved on his laptop and automatically his gaze was locked on those y/e/c eyes.

God, he couldn’t stop looking or thinking about you.

It was you.

***

author's note: I truly believe that I just like to inflict pain on myself when writing a fighting scene like it sounds great on my head and then having it to put into words? kllme. Anywway, I was excited for this chapter seeing that a lot of you reblogged the prologue and I added a playlist to go with this story so I'm extremely excited about it. I think this can qualify as a meet cute between assasins, right?

ANYWAY, let me know if you liked it and everything in between I'm extremely excited toread your thoughts.

thank you thank you so much for any interaction you have with this and for reading it

***

feedback is always welcome!!

donate: help me with my laptop?

also available on wattpad

***

[earlgreydream]

shaky.

| bucky barnes x reader | fluff | angst |

Bucky drabbles 🥺 ❤️

shaving Bucky’s face for him with a straight razor because he’s too shaky

You leaned on the bathroom doorframe, watching Bucky struggle. He’d been trying to shave the scruff off of his face, but his hands were shaking too much. He was crying from frustration, his hands trembling.

“Stop honey, you’re going to hurt yourself,” you said softly, and he dropped the blade into the sink with a loud, metallic clatter. He gripped the edge of the countertop and heaved forward with a sob.

You swallowed down your own cry, your heart breaking for him. You stepped into the bathroom and wrapped your arms around him, your hands resting on his chest. Your body was pressed against his shaking back, and he broke down in front of the mirror. 

“James,” you breathed, feeling like he was going to shatter in your arms.

“It was like it was all happening again... In Madripoor...” Bucky’s voice cracked, and you held him tightly. You felt tremors wrack through his body, and you did your best to hold him together.

“I had to act like the winter soldier, I let Zemo touch me, it was so real!”

“Breathe, my love. It’s not real, James, it’s over. That isn’t you anymore,” you promised, kissing the back of his shoulder, a heather-blue shirt soaking up your tears.

You pulled yourself together, squeezing your eyes shut and kissing the scar where his prosthetic met his skin. Your heart ached to see the love of your life in so much pain, and you fought against the urge to sob with him.

He was murmuring softly in Russian, and you slipped between his body in the counter, reaching up to his scruffy face and holding him in your hands. His head hung down, long hair falling in his face, tears streaked down his cheeks. Wet eyelashes opened to reveal silver eyes, the eyes of the soldier who’d fought for justice in the 40s, the assassin who was held captive, and the hero who was trying everything to make it right.

Those gorgeous silver eyes gazed into yours, finding solace and safety in your love. You brushed his tears away with your fingers, and he placed a vibranium hand over your own. You leaned forward and kissed his knuckles, and he hugged you, his arm going around your back. You stood in his arms, breathing him in for several minutes, letting him calm down.

“Let me,” you said softly, taking the blade out of the sink and grabbing a towel, a washcloth, and shaving cream.

“Doll...”

“I’ve got it James.”

You followed him quietly into the kitchen, and he filled a bowl with water, sitting down on a chair next to the counter. You turned on a light overhead, shining down over you enough so you could see what you were doing. You set everything down before tying Bucky’s hair back, kissing his temple.

You walked around and straddled his lap, your knees coming to rest on either side of his hips. You rubbed the cream on his face, his hands settling on your waist, his thumbs occasionally brushing over your skin, just under your top.

His gaze never left your face, and he trusted you as you picked up the straight razor. Bucky wasn’t afraid of you hurting him, and he knew you’d do a much better job than he could in his anxious state.

He loved you. He loved these quiet moments, the times when you took care of him without making him feel guilty or weak. You never needed to ask what he needed, you just understood. You were soft and never judging, always the one to stay up with him when he couldn’t sleep. You loved him.

You held his head in one hand, tilting it as you carefully glided the razor against the curves of his face. You moved the blade steadily over his skin, slicing the hair off.

Bucky breathed evenly, holding still for you. A soft sigh left him as you dipped the blade in the water before working on the curve of his jaw. You tilted his head back, shaving the hair down the column of his throat silently.

You worked on the other half of his face, cleaning the blade a couple times in between. You managed not to nick him, your touch careful with your lover.

The only other time you’d done this was for Steve Roger’s funeral.

You cleaned the blade in the water, and setting it aside, dipping the washcloth in a fresh bowl. You cleaned his smooth skin, relaxed by the action. After you patted his face dry with a towel, you leaned in and connected your lips.

The kiss was tender and slow, bringing comfort to Bucky. You took your time before pulling away, running your fingers along his clean face.

“Thank you.”

You offered a small smile before wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging the man who meant everything to you. He held you, breathing you in and keeping you close. You brought a peace that washed over him, pushing out the fright and anxiety. There was no room for that when you filled him with love.

[hughiecampbelle]

Divine (Helmut Zemo Oneshot)

Character/s: Zemo, Bucky

Word Count: 1,691

Requested: rupture + slamming doors + "If I wanted to, I would have already."

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I wanted to try out :) Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

REQUESTS ARE OPEN 🔮

Святой. Иголка. Собака. Покайтесь. Музыка. Шрам. Более легкий. Девятнадцать. Бог. Ангел. He rattles off those words like they are nothing, like they mean nothing, placing them between sentences, attempting coherency, while he waits for the aneurysm to burst. It’s cerebral: meaning “of relating to the brain or intellect”. The words, the diagnosis. You are smart, he knows this, he has seen this, therefore you are destined to be doomed. You always have been. The vessel wall is weak (frail, feeble, fragile) and the blood begins to pool, applying pressure to the nerves. The brain. Eventually, the vessel will fracture and begin to hemorrhage. You have yet to detonate, though you’re close: your seams are loose, the wires crossed, your skull filled to the brim. Seeing red. The rupture will be catastrophic. No survivors. Under your breath you repeat the words: over and over, trying to regain control, trying not to let him win. Your fists are balled. Your voice is shaky. Your heartbeat rapid. Cerebral aneurysms can lead to brain damage, hemorrhagic stroke, coma, and death. You wonder if you will die like this, listing off those words, everything in you fighting for control. You wonder if his voice will still be in your head, all of their voices, while you become undone. 

Святой. Saint. You weren’t devout. Your mother, though, feared the wrath of God. She went to the saints, the individuals, to solve her problems. Her knees bled, and her back broke, and the holy pages became frayed. She wore Mary around her neck, clutching her, cradling her. She pleaded and you’d wait for something to happen. A miracle. A light. Anything. She’s find her glasses and thank St. Anthony. It was St. Raphael who cured you when you were sick. St. Agnes would keep you pure. You didn’t not believe. You had no proof in either direction. It didn’t seem fair to write them all off completely. Still, it didn’t sit right with you. It still doesn’t. You can’t remember her face. In your memories, her features are blank. Her voice, her mannerisms, all of gone along with her name. But her devotion, her begging, has been carved into you, deep enough where Hydra could not touch. All across the world, you’d wander off to churches between jobs, blood scrubbed off your skin, circling the drain as the doors open. The pews lined. The priest would welcome you in, speak to you in his native tongue, and you would shyly reciprocate. If not fluent, then stumbling your way through a prayer to your mothers saints long gone. They don’t hear you: you know this. They heard her, the worked in her favor. You called to them, to help you, to save you, as they tore you apart. Nothing changed. No one stopped. Still, there is a moral obligation, an innately human desire, to ask for forgiveness. Even someone as irredeemable and sullied as you bows your head and clasps your hands together. You prayed to your mother, a stranger now, that she might be looking down on you, that she is not upset with what you have become. A killer. An assassin. Where was St. Agnes now?

Иголка. Needle. There is nothing to compare it to, no history of childhood fits, no surge of panic in your adolescence, nothing, though you’ve been told you become difficult in the presence of needles. You used to put up more of a fight, hysterical at the idea of something sharp and pointed plunging into you. After the accident, most of your body was in ruins. You needed IV’s, and shots, and spinal taps. You screamed and cried and bargained everything you had, everything you were worth. Zola didn’t believe in pain killers. It would be wasted on something that didn’t deserve relief. Strapped to the table, a syringe digging into your spine, he’d shush you, your wimpers, brushing the sweat off your face. His breath was hot, his words pungent. That piece of you never got lost. They tried, they really did. Their own version of exposure therapy. Sam thought you were ridiculous. Your bones, your skin, your muscle put back together, most of you metal and scar tissue (Frankensteineque) and yet your eyes tear up at the thought of a vaccine. You have killed and been killed, but a needle, something so small it’s insignificant, throws off your day. Sends you into a panic. Not because of what they did. Not because, when you were especially difficult to deal with, they’d puncture you like a human pincushion. But something deeper, older, in you that you cannot recite. Something childlike and stubborn remains and they come out even now, petrified and clawing, trying to get away. This piece of you is not embarrassing, as others would expect. Rather it is proof that a part of you is still human. Still mortal. Still you. 

Собака. Dog. He’d look at you the way one does at a rotten dog.  He’d watch you like your canines have fallen out of your gums, like your mouth is a series of sockets and spit, like your legs are chewed and chunkless, and your eyes are glazed over with cataracts. He never meant to. Zola. Loved you as one loves an old dog, too. With admiration and nostalgia. You were his child, his creation, his life. The Winter Soldier was his best, but you would always be his favorite. They broke you before they put you together again. You’d yelp, and bark, and whine. There was so much pain, it was all-encompassing. Blinding. Not just your skin, but in the marrow of your bones. It’s indescribable. He would stand by your side, he would hold your hand. When you regained feeling, eventually, you could feel him squeezing it. One. Two. Three. Your mouth tasted of metal. Even your gums were bleeding. You’d try to speak, but the gag in your mouth prevented it. He loved you. He loved you so much he locked you in a cage. Like a dog, he expected you to obey. To sit, and stand, and protect him, protect them. You were allowed to play, to bite at one another, but they preferred to keep you and Bucky separate. There was a great fear that, if placed beside one another, you would learn to communicate, to work together, and find a way out. The more secluded you were, the safer they would be. 

Шрам. Scar. You didn’t return to the living unscathed. Your body was all scar tissue. Hard, restricting, and thick. Some have faded, others tear open with one wrong move. You were the first of your kind, a test subject they could have a little fun with. It isn’t pretty. Some of it resembles your natural features: they eye they replaced is identical to the real one. Other parts they chose to keep more archaic. You are metal, and flesh, the two working together to keep you in one piece. You used to rust. They’d upgrade the mechanics every few years when something better was invented. It was excruciating. You don’t look like a person. What’s worse, you don’t feel like one. Where there should be softness is sterility. Zemo has seen more than anyone’s been allowed. He’s watched your muscles contort, heard the faint whirring of your limbs as they reconfigure themselves. He understands why Zola loved you so. You were beautiful. When the time came to use you, to blame you, a small part of him was remorseful. Sorry. You still catch him staring. Not out of anger or confusion, but infatuation. They all liked you for your body. That never stops. Not in life, not after death. 

Ангел. Angel. That was your name, the one they gave you when you forgot your own. There was The Winter Soldier and there was The Angel. Instinctual, you answered to it. A reflex. A habit. You chose a new one. Your therapist thought it was a good idea, to put distance between you and the thing they created. There were no files, no identification, no ties to anyone or anything, though. As far as they could find, you had always been Angel. Your identity not only stripped, it has been decimated. It’s as if you already belonged to them even before you got there. My angel, Zola would say, his tone affectionate, his mannerisms disturbing. The Angel, Zemo would bask in awe. You were real after all. You were still getting used to the one you gave yourself. Two, maybe three seconds before you recognized someone was trying to get your attention. All those years, it was hard to break. You’d like to think your mother would have laughed: her child? This child? An angel? You were cynical. Masochistic. Ruthless. You killed some of the most important people on the planet and you did it well. If nothing else, there was a sense of pride, a sense of duty, completion. You did so quietly, silently, and when you were done, eye-witnesses swore they truly saw an angel. How fitting. 

Святой. Иголка. Собака. Покайтесь. Музыка. Шрам. Более легкий. Девятнадцать. Бог. Ангел. Your hand is wrapped around his throat. Sam and Bucky are at your sides, trying to deescalate the situation. He watches you knowingly, expectantly. He wanted this to happen. It would be so easy. Can’t they see? Can’t they understand? Slip back into place. Disappear, go into hiding, and live as you did. You weren’t just good, you were excellent. You could crush his windpipe without a second thought. But Bucky, cautiously, places his hand on your arm. If you meet his eyes, you will have to let go. You will back away. You will become a dog again, beaten and abused, forced to obey. He can see it in your features. He knows what this would mean. But he is a changed person, a desperate person who needs Zemo. So you do. I see you are still following orders. Too scared to kill me? His voice comes out strained, choking, but he is remains arrogant. If I wanted to, I would have already. You spit, slamming the door behind you.

[atlaese]

before sunset, i fell - b.b.

summary: apparently, when you stay in the honeymoon suite, the husband and the ring on your left hand come with the package. *terms and conditions apply. refunds are not issued. pairing: modern!bucky x fem!reader tw: modern AU, cursing, allusions to smut, implied smut, alcohol, fluff, food, tell me if i missed something! words: 4.5K a/n: hi lovelies!! this is my entry for @ambrosiase indigo hotel writing challenge :) i chose the prompts honeymoon suite & vacation with bucky, but added a few little twists. also idk why but the blue suit on seb makes me go feral...😵‍💫 i worked on this for... the longest time i have ever worked on a fic, so i hope you like it!! p.s. Thank you to my loves @buckycuddlebuddy & @midnightf for helping me out 💞 i love y’all!!

p.p.s. i now have a library blog! go follow @aeristhotle and turn on notifs to get notified when i update!

reblogs and comments are appreciated ✨💗

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MARVEL MASTERLIST

A soft breeze was coming through the half-shut curtains, softly caressing your bare back as you inhaled lightly, pressing your face deeper in the soft pillow. It was such a nice morning. There were fresh sheets on the bed and they smelled like a washing product you didn’t immediately recognize as your own, a slight floral hint in them as you stretched out your arms. Everything felt good and the sound of waves crashing against rocks a few miles away, made it feel like you were on holiday in some far-away country.

You strained your eyes against the harsh morning light as you blinked a few times, trying to get the sleep out of your eyes. Something felt off though, maybe it was the pounding headache that made you screw your eyes back shut or perhaps it was the fact that these white sheets weren’t yours at all.

What is going on, you thought to yourself, scrunching the white sheets in your fists as you turned on your back, cold air hitting your bare skin as you looked down at your body in horror. Why were you naked? Even on the hottest summer nights you at least wore a pair of panties and an old tank top, so where were they now?

Quickly pulling up the sheets over your bare chest, you looked up at the ceiling again. Your sight was met with a fancy chandelier that you definitely didn’t own, just like the headboard that was way too big to fit your queen-sized bed.

What in the cliché movie is this. Did you just drink too much and book a hotel room for once, instead of relying on your friends to get you safely home in an overpriced cab?

Slightly sitting up and clutching onto the sheets, you scanned around the room you were in, looking at all the modern art that was hung up, as well as the small sliver of the sea you could spot through the curtains.

Your gaze ended up at the other side of the king-sized bed.

Underneath the white sheets, there was a man lying on his stomach, sheets barely covering his naked ass as he was breathing at a slow and steady pace, tufts of air making little noises that you would’ve found cute if you at least knew who this fucking man was.

As your heart battered in your chest, you silently stepped out of the bed, taking the sheets with you and leaving the man buck ass naked and you snuck over to the nearby door, hoping it was the bathroom and that it had a robe you could use.

Exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you closed the door behind you, thanking your guardian angel that it was indeed a bathroom. Two fluffy robes were neatly folded on the counter and you switched out the sheets for one.

Staring into the mirror, you had to take a moment to calm down and collect your thoughts. For some reason, you were staying in a hotel with a man you didn’t know. On top of that, both of you were naked, sleeping in the same bed, which said a lot and at the same time still left you confused.

You turned on the tap to splash some water in your face, to get rid of the foggy feeling that was inhibiting your head like a bank of mist that hung over the street, unable to see through unless you ventured further into it.

That’s when another piece of the puzzle fell into place. The cold metal of a ring rubbed against your cheek and you stilled in your movements - please, please don’t let me be married to a random guy. Please.

It was a simple gold band with a small diamond attached to it, that was resting on your left ring finger, signaling that you were now probably married to the man that was snoring away in the bed.

Pressing your face into a towel, you lightly screamed out of frustration into the plush cotton. It all felt like some sort of bad dream you couldn’t wake up from, a mixture of beauty and pain that was making your head spin. The only plus in this situation was the hotel suite you were in - it was large , spacious and more luxurious than you’d ever seen. This guy better pays for it.

Slipping out of the room without disturbing the man was the plan of action - and hopefully, your stuff was within reach to assure a swift and quiet exit.

“You’re not thinking about leaving me already, right, wifey?” the man chuckled from his place in the bed as you tried to silently close the bathroom door. You turned around quickly, eyes big in horror as you watched him.

He was still naked, but his head was turned your way now, still pressed into the pillow and blue eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t quite place yet. Was he... happy?

“You’re less vocal today than yesterday, huh,” he snickered and sat up, his arms spread out as if expecting a hug. Being naked in front of a stranger wasn’t a big deal to him apparently. Flirting with one and making crude jokes wasn’t either.

“Uhm- I’m sorry,” you choked out, eyes straining to keep the eye contact and not lower to the rest of his physique - a physique that most definitely didn’t hurt your eyes.

Watching his face brought back a few flashes of memories you didn’t know you had. Blue eyes shining as you ran hand in hand through a venue, his soft touches that lingered on the open back of your dress and the soft rubbing of his scruff against your face as you were dancing slowly along with booming music in a club, lost in your bubble for two.

“C’mere,” he beckoned, a soft smile on his face as he watched your stoic expression. By some sort of gravitational pull - or his overall alluring charisma, you sat down on the bed next to him and he immediately pulled you into his body, his head buried in your neck as you tried not to freak out - again.

“What should we do today, maybe take that surfing lesson you talked about yesterday?” he mumbled against the skin of your neck, leaving a light kiss in the wake of his words. “It looks like a good day to go surfing.”

“Uh, sure,” you blinked rapidly, sifting through all the memories that were finding their way back to the surface like a whale swimming many feet below the water, ready to breach in an exhilarating moment of pure power.

“Okay,” he groaned, dragging his face away from your neck and standing upright, stretching out every limb as you averted your eyes from a certain body part, conveniently right in front of your face.

“Let’s go have breakfast and then we can figure out what to do,” he suggested, going to the bathroom.

The man quickly turned around again, facing you with a knowing smirk on his face. “If you can figure out my name, of course. You do remember that huh, wife of mine?”

The glint in his eyes betrayed that he knew exactly what was going on in the depths of your head. The way your eyes glossed over when you were thinking hard, sifting through the countless memories, trying to pinpoint who he was and what had happened in the last 24 hours.

It was odd to see a stranger know you so well, even after presumably spending little time together.

“It’s Bucky. Put on that blue dress and meet me for breakfast in 15,” he said with pursed lips, nodding his head to your open suitcase where a summery blue dress was laying on top, then disappearing in the bathroom, leaving just his scent lingering in the sheets you were previously wrapped up in.

“Fuck,” the words softly left your mouth as you fell on your back, staring up at the beautiful chandelier again. “What have I done now?”

* * *

True to his word, Bucky was sitting at a table for two, browsing through a local paper as another hand held a mug of coffee, just refilled by one of the many waiters bustling around. The staff were wearing goddamn white gloves. What kind of establishment is this?

After Bucky had disappeared into the bathroom, you had quickly thrown on the blue dress and a pair of espadrilles, before opening the door to the hallway and being swallowed whole into the maze that was this hotel.

The hotel had a magnificent garden too, overlooking the blue ocean that was softly lapping against the pearly white beach. The air that left your lungs slowly started to match the calm rhythm of the water coming up to you and backing away again, a natural element of calm providing you with the necessary support.

You had needed to get away from the whole pompous honeymoon suite and the strange but alluring man in it. Memories were still flitting through your head at lightspeed, too quick to understand what they were and in what order they were supposed to be put in. It felt like you were flipping through a photo album, the pictures shuffled around to make the timeline incomprehensible.

And there he was, looking all soft in a light blue t-shirt, a white chino and some flip flops on his feet. He didn’t seem dangerous. He looked like any other guy you could fall for, his smile a little too reckless to be good, his charm overwhelming you in the best way. This man was going to be trouble, for sure.

He looked tanned, little freckles dotted over his arms, his tanned cheeks pulling into a smile when he noticed you standing a few feet away, looking a little dishevelled from the wind blowing in your hair, your eyes wide and cautious.

“Ah, there you are,” Bucky stood up, leaving his napkin on the table as he pulled back the chair opposite of his, gesturing that it was yours to sit in.

“Uh, thank you,” you mumbled as he pushed the chair closer to the table before sitting down again. “Sorry, needed a breather.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he snickered, finally taking a bite from the croissant he had grabbed from the buffet. “I got you a pain au chocolat, hope you like that.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, pulling a piece of buttery dough and stuffing your mouth. Just like everything else in this hotel, it was perfect and luxurious. Goddamn, this isn’t making it any easier to just bolt and leave this fever dream behind.

“So, tell me, has it always been a dream of yours to surf with dolphins,” he genuinely asked, a certain spark in his eyes as he put down his mug and leaned his chin on a fist.

“Uhm, well, you see up until 30 minutes ago it wasn’t,” you wrung your hands together in your lap, peering around the room and effectively avoiding his azure eyes. “It does sound very fun.”

Bucky gripped the armrests of his chair and shuffled closer towards you, the chair making a screeching noise over the marble floors as other patrons shot looks at the odd couple that was disturbing their peaceful breakfast.

“What do you remember from, say yesterday morning?” Bucky asked, his eyes narrowed as he watched you attempt to remember what had happened after your breakfast.

“I got breakfast in the hostel, which by the way, is nowhere near as fancy as this place, drove around with a scooter on the island and met a friend for margaritas in the bar on the town square.”

“Then, it’s blank,” you admitted, “or not really. I have these- these memories of us walking hand in hand through a venue and other stuff, but I can’t seem to put them in the right order.”

“Still a bit foggy up there, huh,” he tapped his temple, azure eyes awash with concern. “I can retell my part of our story, maybe that gives your brain a jumpstart?”

You nodded, eyes now focused on him as you wrapped your hands around the mug with steaming coffee as Bucky looked up at the ceiling, mouth pulled into a pout.

“Okay, you and your friend… I don’t remember their name-”

“Alex.”

“Right, Alex,” he scraped his throat, “we were next to each other at the bar and we got to talking and there were a lot of drinks.”

“Like a lot,” he stressed, his hand sifting through his hair, remembering the bill he paid and the number of times he had to try to get the code of his credit card right.

“Still doesn’t explain this,” you lifted up your left hand, the ring catching the rays of the sun and a small rainbow crossed your face. Bucky had to try his best not to pull out his phone and snap a picture of you, the combination of your soft skin, the small rainbow and your lips that were pulled into a small pout making it hard.

“Well, that was your idea, actually,” he bit his lip, scrunching his nose as your mouth dropped open in shock. “You were pretty convincing, I gotta add.”

“I- are you sure?” you asked, just to be sure you heard it right. Why would you ever ask a random man you met just that day to marry you?

Bucky just nodded, a tinge of cockiness present on his face as he resumed to tell the story of how you two met and how exactly this whole thing happened.

“So, your friend found this chapel thingy? They flagged down a cab, found a store with simple wedding dresses and found someone to officiate it,” Bucky said, with an impressed look on his face. “All while they were black-out drunk, I have to say that’s a talent.”

“Would it surprise you when I told you they are a professional party planner?” you said, scratching your forehead as you thought about how much money this must’ve cost. Weddings could easily go into the thousands and knowing your taste, you picked out an expensive dress.

“Am I bankrupt by now? It wasn’t your best idea to marry me if I spent all my cash on this little escapade.”

“No, I covered it, you’re fine,” he chuckled as you exhaled a breath, happy you didn’t splurge on a stupid wedding dress for a wedding you can’t even remember.

“But, now I feel bad. How much was it?” you asked, your hand landing on his forearm, sending an electric wave through the both of you, as you tried your best to not show how much it affected you.

“It wasn’t that much, honestly,” he said, his cheeks showing a tinge of red as he tried to play it off as if it was normal to pay for a stranger’s stuff, let alone a wedding dress. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

Something about the way he said those words without much care, showed that even he wasn’t bothered to pay for anything at all. He must be comfortable, to talk about expensive hotel suites and wedding dresses as if they were groceries you got at the supermarket.

“Enough talk about money. I hired a pair of surfboards and wetsuits for the day,” he stood up, reaching out his hand to pull you up. “You ready to go?”

You pondered for a second, before looking up at him, eyes shining brightly, “on one condition. We don’t talk about real-life depressing stuff while we’re here. No talking about jobs or family or other bullshit. Just us.”

The story he had told seemed to fit into the jumbled memories that were slowly assembling themselves in your mind and it didn't seem like he had any malicious attempts for you, looking at his face that seemed more trustworthy than the one of your ex.

A grin pulled on his lips as he nodded, his hand still outstretched as he wiggled his fingers, “it’s a deal.”

Taking his hand, he pulled you up, his other arm coming around your waist to hold you close, his grip a stronghold on you as his eyes looked between yours, trying to figure you out, an enigma right in front of his eyes that got more complex every time he blinked.

“Let’s go enjoy our honeymoon then, sweetheart.”

* * *

The surfing was way more fun than you expected it to be. Both clad in wetsuits, you tried your best to stand up on the board, the big waves knocking both of you off of it as you tried your best to contain your laughter.

Bucky was just as bad as you, probably even worse. The man had no balance whatsoever as the board just kept getting away from under his feet, even when the waves had calmed down after a while.

After a few hours of messing around together, Bucky took your hand and interlaced your fingers, as you both sat down on the boards and floated around, waiting for the sun to set in its thousands of pastel colours.

“Just so you don’t float away,” he said as an excuse, nodding down to your interlaced hands.

“Right,” you bit your lip, turning your head away to hide the smile that was gracing your face.

Both of you knew it wasn’t just about floating away anymore, it was about staying together, getting to know each other in other ways than normal people would. You had started where most stories ended and done it all in reverse.

It confused other people too.

When you were at a restaurant the following evening, an older couple came up, asking how long you too had known each other as they were so drawn in with the way you interacted with each other. When Bucky straight-facedly told them it had been a full 72 hours, they scurried off as the two of you buckled over in laughter.

Every night before you went to bed, there was still a tension to be found, like a current running between your digits as you turned your back to him in bed, trying your best not to let your stuttering breaths wake him.

It was hard for him, too. The bed was big enough for you to comfortably sleep in, but each morning you woke up with one of you on the other side, limbs tangled as heat rose to either of your cheeks before you scurried off to the bathroom for a cold shower, shaking the thoughts from your head.

On the sixth night, there was this unspoken agreement after you had spent the day driving around the island on a scooter, your arms wrapped around his waist and your cheeks squished against his shoulder. The whole day there had been a certain weight on the fleeting touches as if to try out where the limit was.

If there was even a limit.

Finally laying in bed, close to 1 am, he pulled your body towards him as he nestled his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss against the delicate skin before you dozed off, the moon shining on the soft ripples of the ocean, illuminating the smile on your face Bucky couldn’t see.

It happened on the seventh day, the early morning breeze that was flowing through the windows making goosebumps rise on both of your skins as your bodies collided together.

He tried his best to leave your body unmarked, his fingers gently digging into your hips as his lips were on every inch of naked skin — seemingly all at once, like when the sun kissed your skin with its golden rays, warming you up. His touch made your body burn from the inside out, open and hot mouthed kisses making you beg for more of everything.

After a while, when the sun had finally risen just above the edge of the sea, when birds had started to chirp and when you both finally tumbled over the edge, he dropped down, his face nestling in the crook of your neck as one hand caressed his spine and the other sifted through his long hair.

It couldn’t have been a better morning to wake up to, especially as he happily sighed in comfort when you scratched his scalp, his full body weight on you providing a certain comfort no one else ever could.

The last few days started and ended just like that, wrapped up in each other, basking in the loving company of your newfound lover. The sun followed you everywhere you went, gracing you with its rays bouncing off of Bucky’s tanned skin, his pearly teeth standing out as his hands grabbed ahold of your body at all times.

The moments in between were filled with bare-foot beach walks, surfing on the Hawaiian waves - or trying to - and exploring the connection that you two stumbled upon.

This whole ordeal felt like a warm embrace, a hot cup of coffee on a cold morning where a snowstorm was ravaging outside.

It felt like a story from out of a cheesy fairy tale that should have some sort of plot twist somewhere, a witch coming to ruin all the plans, or a monster making the calm waves you were floating on ripple, causing the little boat of comfort you were in to capsize.

You could only hope the boat you two had built together was strong enough to withstand all the waves that still had to come your way, brewing somewhere in the future. How would your loved ones react to this one-of-a-kind story?

* * *

But alas, every fairy tale needs its ending. Yours was back home, back to your desk job that was nowhere near exciting as the recruiter made it out to be. Especially after this week where Bucky’s lips were never far from your face and other parts of your body. Working at your bleary office seemed like a drag all of a sudden, making you long for more exciting days where you and your now-husband were exploring new cities and each other.

“You got married?! Last week? to whom?” Florence, your colleague, whisper-shouted in your ear as you were typing up a final report, trying to get it finished before your new boss arrived.

“ Girl, I’ve known this man for like 10 days and I think he might be my soulmate,” you said, eyes not leaving the screen. “It started off kinda strange but we had so much fun, so we might just… stay married, you know? Plus, it’s easier to tell the family honestly.”

“Like how do I tell my mum that I’ve gone off and married a stranger, spent a week gallivanting around Hawai’i with him, only to then get a divorce?”

“Also, bonus, he’s so hot, like model hot Flo, sometimes I think he just stepped out of a catalogue,” you added, thinking about his blue eyes and brown hair, the slight scruff adding an edge to his face that made your heart pump the blood in your veins a tad faster.

“I don’t, but it sounds awesome,” she chortled, “what’s the hottie’s name?”

“Okay it’s kinda a weird name, so don’t judge,” you cringed, your mouth pulled in an awkward pout. “Bucky, it’s a nickname he likes.”

“Okay, but that’s kinda cute, no? Kinda childlike too, not gonna lie,” she lifted her brow as she stood up. “Anyway, the new boss should be here any sec now and his name is boring in comparison to your boo’s.”

“What’s that?” you saved the file and turned around in your chair, smoothing down your hands on the front of your blazer, trying to make it crease-free. Creases just made for a bad impression, especially when you need to make a good one for this new boss.

The consulting company you had been working for the last three years was in dire need of new management, so after countless headhunters had sifted through the best of the best, they finally had someone.

“James, bleh, imagine what an old white man that will be.”

Well, your boss didn’t need to be hot, he just needed to keep the company afloat and on track. It would have been fun though. A certain fifty shades of grey added to the dull company.

In the corner of your eye, you saw the secretary stand up, probably ready to greet the man as other co-workers eagerly raised their heads over their computers, wanting to have a first glance at the man.

“Oh, there he is!” Florence grabbed your upper arm, squeezing it lightly, “okay, he’s kinda cute from behind, no?”

The light blue suit gave you flashbacks - again - to the time in Hawai’i where Bucky and you went out for dinner and later strolled over the beaches without shoes, just enjoying the feeling of the sand sifting under your feet.

“Oh god,” you mumbled as he turned around, his eyes scanning the office and the people in it, big blue eyes landing on you. “Bucky.”

Guess this was the plot twist you had been expecting.

“What?” Flo aggressively whispered, her eyes rapidly flitting between you and your apparent new boss and new husband. “Are you kidding me?!”

Bucky didn’t waste a moment as he strode over to you, the shock on his face quickly replaced by a small smirk as he watched your expression change from shock to disbelief.

His hands landed on the side of your upper arms as he leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek, his scruff rubbing against your skin making the memories breach through the surface once again.

“Well hello, wifey, didn’t expect to see you here.”

Bucky left you standing there, eyes wide and shivers running through your body as he followed the secretary to the big meeting room, all set up for him to give a short presentation about his plans for the future of the company.

“Hello?” Florence took a hold of your shoulders, roughly shaking you from the frozen state you were in. “What in god’s name was that?!”

“That’s uh- that’s my husband,” you held onto her arms, afraid of losing your balance on the heels that felt too high all of a sudden, the natural light that was streaming into the building making you feel lightheaded.

“You- you never talked about your jobs?” she shrieked, shaking you again, trying to get you to realize what this would mean for your future at the company. “That’s like the first thing that you talk about on a date!”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but nothing about this situation is normal,” you said through your teeth, blinking rapidly.

“God, you snagged a hottie!” Florence babbled off, her focus no longer on your body that felt like it wanted to run away from here, run back to the safety of the Hawaiian hotel, where it felt you were in your own little universe.

Your eyes flit towards the glass walls of the conference room, where your husband was shaking hands of other employees, his eyes trained on you still, occasionally acknowledging the person he was speaking to.

“I think I want a refund from that Hawai’i package I got,” you said to yourself before the whole team was called into the room, where your husband was standing with a cocky smirk on his face.

[bi-disaster-yn]

Endorsement

Kinktober 2022 | Praise

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky likes to be praised for doing a good job.

Contains: Praise kink, blindfolding, p in v sex. 18+, minors DNI!

A/N: idk about you guys but I would make Bucky a blushy mess with all the praise I’d give him.

Bucky Barnes was a Sunday morning kind of lover.

Never in a rush, he’d indulge you completely and invest time into giving you all the pleasure you deserved.

He was talented at it too, having observed exactly what your body responded to and using that whilst also exploring new things. That was the thing: he only focussed on your pleasure and didn’t take the time to navigate his own.

That morning, he had you blindfolded and lying on your side while he spooned you. His vibranium arm stretched out where you rested your head on top of it and held your wrists clasped together so he could hold you in place.

His flesh hand was on your hip, pinning you to the bed as he took deep, explorative strokes inside you.

At this angle, he could see your face contort in pleasure. He could feel your heartbeat in your neck as he scratched it with his stubble. Best of all, he could whisper all the praise in the world for his girl in your ear.

“So beautiful like this, doll. Does it feel good? Blindfolded you so you could feel it all. Want my girl to feel as much pleasure as possible.” He mumbled against your skin as he nipped at your neck. His movements were soft, which contrasted with how tightly he was holding your wrists together.

“You feel incredible. Did you know that, sweetheart? Such a beautiful girl. And so good for me.” He groaned from deep in his chest at this point which elicited a soft whimper from you. “I could keep you here like this all day. I’d never get tired of fucking you.”

Your resolve failed you completely when Bucky moved his hand from your hip to between your legs to rub your sensitive bud softly. His grin was almost audible in your ear as you let out a surprised raspy moan.

“Bucky-“ you took a minute to bite your lip and stifle the moans that threatened to escape your hoarse throat to little avail. “Fuck… you fuck me so good! Too good, I need you all the time.”

Bucky almost paused his movements in surprise of your praise. Here you were, completely at his mercy and receiving his domineering praise, yet, you had just enchanted him with your sweet compliments. He swore his cock got that little bit harder, if that was even possible.

“What did you say, baby?” He whispered, low in your ear which sent a shiver down your spine. He continued circling your clit and slipping his cock in and out of you but almost in a trancelike state.

The loss of momentum frustrated you.

“I said you fuck me so good! Please fuck me harder! I need to feel you and how thick you are!” You retaliated, hoping this would gain more traction. You succeeded and managed to ignite something in Bucky.

“Praise me.” He commanded, picking up the pace. The instruction startled you a little and you remained in stunned silence.

“Praise me.” He repeated, this time with a rough snap of his hips that made you squeal.

“You fill me up so good, sweetheart. When you’re not fucking me, I miss you. I wish you were inside me at all times.” You managed to get out in sharp breaths as Bucky increased his efforts with both his cock and his fingers on your clit.

Then, all of a sudden, he pulled out of you drawing out a desperate whine from you. Still blinded, you could feel him manhandling you on to your stomach. Your cheek rested on the soft pillow beneath you; your wrists once held together were now pulled apart and pinned down at either side of your head.

Bucky slowly pushed into you again, making your mouth form an ‘O’ shape. The way he had you pinned down made it impossible to move so all you could do was take him.

“More.” He gruffly whispered in your ear before biting your earlobe and dragging it with his teeth. Who were you to deny your boyfriend the only thing he asked of you?

“Such a good man, Buck. So good, take care of me so well. I’ve never had anyone as good as you! Nothing as good as this! I’ll be thinking about this for days.” Your voice was gravelly by the end of your little speech but you didn’t care. Bucky was pounding into you frantically, hardly pulling out as his hips consistently hit your ass cheeks. His grunts and groans were loud and audible, as well as the sound of his dog tags jingling against his chest with the speed he was moving at. Fresh slick slid down your thighs and against his lower tummy as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time.

His hands moved from your wrists. The vibranium one held your hip while the flesh one pressed into your lower back so that your stomach was pushed into the mattress, further stimulating your g-spot and building up that beautifully overwhelming tension.

You screamed as your climax washed over you. Your full body was jolted forward and your face brushed against the pillow over and over while the blindfold heightened everything just that little bit further.

“Did I make you cum, baby?” Bucky asked breathlessly, still rutting into you.

“You did, sweetheart. I came so hard, all because of you.” You whimpered back to inspire his own orgasm.

With a soft and beautiful moan, Bucky came too. He collapsed against your back, pulling your blindfold off and peppering multiple sweet kisses to your cheek to calm you down as you panted.

“I think you have a praise kink, Buck.” You smiled tiredly after a while, content to have him lying on top of you and worshipping your fatigued body with kisses. He blushed slightly, giving you a squeeze and resting his cheek against your shoulder.

“Yeah, I think I do too.”

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Darling, you will bury me before I bury you | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This got weird and kind of sad? Literally do not know where this came from aside from me listening to Ya'aburnee by Halsey this morning.

TW: talk of death

Please message me with any questions, comments, concerns, or suggestions! 💜

If you'd like to read the inverse of this story, check out Do You Want to Die Together?

“And if we don’t live forever,

maybe one day we’ll trade places.

Darling, you will bury me

before I bury you.”

Sometimes when you couldn't sleep and your anxiety got the best of you, your mind would wander to weird places. All too often, it wandered too far and started thinking about the life expectancy of a super soldier. Bucky was strong, he didn't get sick, and any injury he did sustain healed incredibly quickly.

But how long would he be around?

He was already 106. "106 is fucking old", you thought, "How much time do I have with him?"

You'd only just gotten the nerve to tell him you had feelings for him. Only last month did you start sleeping in his room with him. You fell hard and fast for this man and if he died before you, you'd lose your mind.

He had such a dangerous job. People constantly shot at him and lunged at him with knives. It seemed like he was always jumping out of planes with no parachute or clinging to the roof of a moving car. He lived hard and fast. Iit scared you.

"Hey, sweetheart. You okay?" Bucky’s groggy words pulled you from your spiral. You must've woken him with all of your tossing and turning.

You rolled over to face him, and put a hand up to his cheek. "Yeah. I'm fine," you whispered as you stroked his stubble. Bucky rolled his eyes. He could always tell when you were lying. All he had to do was wait for you to spill what was bothering you.

"Buck... I-I'm sorry, I know this is morbid. But-" you paused. "I'm just worried about- how long are you gonna live...?".m Your question hung in the air. The silence crept into your ears and made them ring-it was aggressively quiet. "God, I'm sorry, babe. I shouldn't have said anything.”

Bucky gave a little chuckle. "Well, I think it's a fair question," he said. "I don't know the answer, though. I'm over a hundred years old and I'm still kickin'. And I've successfully survived every attempt on my life thus far.” He grew more solemn, more serious. “But sometimes I do think about..." his voice trailed off.

"You think about what?"

Another long, quiet moment passed. "I think about... you, doll. And how fragile you are, comparatively speaking. Your life could end in a second, and I just-I don't want to outlive you". His statement hit you like a ton of bricks. All of the air left your lungs and you had to sit up to properly fill them again.

Bucky leaned over and turned on the lamp next to his bed. You stared at each other, both contemplating the others' mortality. "It just wouldn't be fair," Bucky murmured. "I've lived such a long life already. I want you to out live me, sweets. I've been around long enough.”

Your heart punched against your ribs, “Buck, no. I don’t- I can’t live without you. I can’t lose you. I have to go before you-”

Bucky took your face in his hands. “Darling,” he whispered, “you will bury me before I bury you."

Suddenly, you regretted ever bringing this up. Your eyes welled up without you realizing it and Bucky used a metal finger to wipe the tears from your cheeks. The thought of watching Bucky's casket being lowered into the ground was too much for you. The image of a gravestone marked with Bucky’s name filled your head and you squeezed your eyes shut tight to try and clear it from your mind.

"But the most important thing is," he said. "I wouldn't be okay if I lost you, baby. That's why I have to go first. I'm gonna be selfish about this one- I don't want to be in a world without you."

You rolled your eyes and gave him a look, "Well, what makes you think I want to be in a world without you?"

He let out a soft laugh and wiped another tear from your cheek. "Unfortunately, doll, I think you're going to have to at some point. It's the natural order of things. I'm older than you, so I have to die first". He winked at you and pulled you in close to him. His metal arm wrapped around your back and your head fell into his shoulder.

He placed a gentle kiss on top of your head and took one of your hands in his human one. "I didn't mean to upset you, baby."

You shook your head, "I'm the one who brought it up". He pulled you in even closer and let out a deep sigh.

"But don't think you're getting rid of me any time soon," he murmured. "I'm gonna stick around for a good while... I can't leave my best girl.”

[make-me-imagine]

Perfect

Scenario Prompt: Bucky Barnes Slow dances with you in the living room for your first Valentine's Day together Requested by: @spuffyfan394

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 620

-

As Bucky sat at the window of the small hotel room, he checked the time on his phone. It was late, nearly 11pm, his eyes grazed over the date briefly and he felt his heart jump a bit. It was Valentines Day.

The two of you had been so caught up in your recent mission, he hadn't noticed at all. He glanced over at you as you went through your bag, and wondered if you had known.

A week ago he had noticed the holiday coming up, and he wanted to do something with you. It would be your first Valentines together as a couple, and he wanted to make it special. But the job came up, and now it was almost over.

He looked around the room, as if something would pop out and give him an idea of what to do. Did you even care that it was Valentines Day? Would it matter? Maybe he should just do something tomorrow instead.

He sighed lightly to himself as he looked back down at his phone. A sudden thought popped into his head and he looked back up at you. It wasn't much, but at least it showed he cared.

As you zipped your toiletries bag shut, you looked up at the sudden sound of music playing from behind you. Looking over at Bucky, you saw him set his phone down on the edge of the table, music played from it.

You blinked in confusion as he smiled softly at you, reaching out his hands for you to take as he walked over to you. You smiled in amusement as you turned fully towards him.

"What's going on?" You asked him with a soft chuckle as you placed your hands in his.

"I just realized what day it was." He said softly as he pulled you slowly towards him.

You knit your brows in confusion, "And what day is it?"

Bucky felt a bit relieved that you hadn't realized. "Valentines Day. It's eleven, it's almost over."

"Oh." You said in realization. You remembered acknowledging the holiday was approaching, and that you had wondered what you ad Bucky might do. But you failed to remember when the job came up. "I didn't realize it was today." You admitted.

You and Bucky started to sway casually in a dance in the middle of the room. The music was only loud enough for you to hear, not too loud to bother anyone else in the hotel.

"I had wanted to do something with you, since it was our first Valentines as a couple but then we got this job, and I forgot." His tone held a hint of guilt.

You smiled and shook your head, brushing your hand through his hair softly. "That's alright Buck, I did the same thing." You admitted.

"But it's okay, I don't need a holiday to know how much you care about me."

He smiled at you and pulled you a little closer. "I know you don't. And I don't either." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I guess I just felt a bit guilty that it wasn't more special."

You rested your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes. He wrapped his arms around you now, as you rested your hands on his chest. "This is special enough. This is perfect." You spoke softly.

Bucky smiled softly as he held you against him. You were right. Neither of you needed boxes of chocolates, or fancy dinners. All either of you needed was each other. He took a deep breath, allowing your familiar scent to wash over him as you leaned against him, he felt relaxed, safe, happy. You were right again. This is perfect.

xx End xx

Short and sweet, but I hope you enjoyed it! Please consider reblogging if you did! <3

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire

Marvel/Bucky Taglist: @cosplayingwitch, @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @resplendentlady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @peter-parkers-cullen-nerd