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literaryavenger · 2 months

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Birthday Kiss

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday and he decides to spend it with his best friend, Steve, and Steve's little sister, you.

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Brother!Steve Rogers x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Idiots in love. Fluff. Vague mentions to sex. Language 'cause I can't help myself. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.4K

Prompt: "So what should I say?" "when?" "when I love someone." "you should say it"

A/N: Since it's almost Bucky's birthday I wanted to celebrate it with my first fic with 40s Bucky! He's one of my favorite Buckys and I've been wanting to write about him for a while and I finally got this idea! Hope someone enjoys it! In my mind this happens like a year before Captain America: The First Avenger, so Bucky is turning 25, Steve is 23 and the Reader is 21, but you can always imagine any age you want. As always, any ideas for fics are appreciated!

Masterlist

You enter the room to see Bucky is hanging out in yours and Steve's apartment, like he always does, sitting down at the window, smoking a cigarette and reading the evening newspaper while a football game plays on the television in the living room and Steve sits on the couch, drawing on his notebook.

You're used to Bucky being here, he's your big brother's best friend and you've come to be very close friends with him too, even if you wished there was more.

As clichè as it is to have a crush on your brother's best friend, you couldn't help it. He was handsome and funny, and he's always sweet and protective of you.

You've known him since you were 9 years old, and he's the only family you have left other than Steve.

"Is this really how you're going to spend your birthday?" You ask Bucky as you sit on the couch next to Steve.

Bucky turns around towards you with a bright smile, his blue eyes lighting up as soon as he sees you, like they always do whenever he's around you.

He puts out the cigarette and stands up, walking over to you, sitting down on your other side and pulling you into a side hug.

"Hey, doll. I didn't think you were gonna be here today." He says, although he seems more happily surprised by your presence than disappointed.

"I live here, Barnes." You tease him with a smile. "Unlike you."

He rolls his eyes playfully as Steve snickers next to you while he keeps drawing. "I know that. I meant, I thought you were gonna be out with your friends tonight."

"I didn't feel like it." You dismiss him quickly, not wanting to actually say out loud that you'd rather spend his birthday with him doing nothing than go out with your friends, so you try to casually change the subject. "I thought you'd at least want to spend today with Dot."

Dot isn't actually Bucky's girlfriend, they've been on a few dates and you've seen them together a couple of times, but Bucky introduced her to you as a friend so you don't think they're that serious.

Not that Bucky ever is, girls are always all over him and he takes advantage of that. He's a ladies man.

But you try not to worry too much about his love life, not wanting to hurt yourself more than knowing Bucky will never see you like that already does.

"Well, I wanted to spend my birthday with my favorite pair of siblings. She can give me my birthday kiss tomorrow." He says with a grin while ruffling your hair.

"So... What's been going on with you lately, doll? Anything interesting happening in your life?" He asks curiously after a pause, genuinely wanting to know more about your day-to-day activities and experiences.

"I... Well, I went on my first date." You say shyly while playing with the edge of your dress.

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, his interest piqued by your sudden confession. "First date? Who was it with? How'd it go?" He asks with what seems like excitement but mentally preparing himself to potentially become jealous or possessive no matter who you mention.

"It was fine..." You say quietly, still not looking at him. "It just wasn't... It wasn't what I was expecting..."

Bucky senses something off in your tone and expression, and immediately becomes concerned. He places a gentle hand on your knee, trying to comfort you without making it too obvious.

"What happened, doll? Did things not go as well as you hoped they would? Are you feeling okay?" He asks softly, trying to gauge whether or not you want to open up about what happened during your date and if there's anything he can do to make it better.

You don't really know how to answer his question, so you don't, simply glancing at him before looking away and shrugging.

"Tell me what happened, I'm here for you no matter what. If that guy hurt your feelings or made you uncomfortable, I'll kick his ass for sure." He promises fiercely, his protective instincts kicking into high gear whenever you seem vulnerable or upset.

You giggle weakly at his protectiveness but still don't look at him, so he takes your chin gently but firmly and makes you look at him. "Tell me what happened on your date. Was it some creep who tried to grope you or something worse? Because if he did, I swear to god I will find him and break his fucking legs."

"That's not it, Bucky." You say quickly. "It's just... He just... He wasn't..." You. He wasn't you. That's what you want to tell him, but you can't, so you sigh and shrug again. "He just wasn't my type."

Bucky knew what was your type. He knew he was your type, he has seen you ogle him countless times when he walked past you or sat near you.

He also knew that you had never shown any interest in any of the men who approached you, always dismissing them as not good enough for you. Or at least that's why he thought you did.

Glancing at Steve before looking back at you again, Bucky says quietly. "Well, that's too bad for him I guess."

"It doesn't matter, I'm not seeing him again." I say quietly, avoiding both Steve and Bucky's eyes.

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion, he couldn't believe you were so quick to give up on a potential relationship just because the guy didn't live up to your impossible standards.

"Doll, you gotta give guys more of a chance. They ain't all as bad as you seem to think they are." He scolds you playfully, but there was also a hint of underlying irritation in his tone as he takes a long sip from his beer bottle.

You glance at him before looking away again. "So... You think I should go on another date with that guy?" You ask quietly.

Bucky thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of pushing you to go on another date with the mystery guy. "Yeah, actually. I mean, if you think he's worth giving a second chance, then why not? And if he turns out to be a total dud again, then at least you can say you gave it a shot. But only if you're really sure he's worth your time though. Don't waste it on some loser who doesn't appreciate everything you have to offer."

He advised you, trying to strike a balance between being supportive and challenging you to take risks when it came to relationships. "But whatever you decide, don't let me pressure you into doing something you don't want to do. You've gotta follow your heart, doll."

"You know, Stevie doesn't care this much about who I date, and he's my older brother." You tease Bucky while glancing at Steve.

Bucky snorts in amusement, "Yeah well, I'm not your brother, sweetheart, but I'm your friend and your wingman, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit back and watch you throw away a potential chance to be happy. Now come on, make up your mind already. Are you gonna give the guy another chance or not?" He pressed, playfully but determinedly.

You look at his face for a moment before looking away again and sighing. "I'm not." You say quietly but firmly. "I'm not going on a second date with that guy." You clarify.

Bucky felt his jaw tighten a little as he realized that you had completely ignored his previous suggestion and were instead deciding against giving the guy a second chance.

He didn't like the idea of you potentially missing out on something good due to your own stubbornness, but he also knew that he couldn't force you to do anything you didn't truly want to do.

"Well, fuck. Guess that settles that then," He said after a moment of silence, trying to hide his disappointment but failing miserably. "You're really gonna just throw that opportunity away? Fine, suit yourself, I guess. But don't expect me to hold your hand or anything when you get sad because you're alone. You're on your own with that shit."

"I guess I am." You say quietly before getting up from the couch and going to the window, climbing into the emergency staircase to go up to the roof, like you do most nights to watch the stars.

Bucky watches you leave, feeling a mix of frustration and concern as he realizes that you're retreating to your usual spot on the roof rather than staying and talking to him.

He wants to call after you, to make sure you're okay, but he knows better than to push you if you need time alone.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the present moment, reminding himself that sometimes people need space and time to themselves.

"Fine. Have it your way," he calls after you, knowing that there isn't much else he can do in this situation. "But don't think for a second that I won't be keeping an eye on you up there. You better not try anything stupid."

You roll your eyes but don't stop, going up to the roof, that's right above yours and Steve's apartment, and sitting on the picnic blanket you and Steve use every night.

After a few minutes someone else comes to the roof and you can tell it's Steve by the light steps. "You sure you want to let Bucky alone in our apartment, Stevie? I'm afraid he might burn it down." You joke weakly without turning around to look at him, your eyes locked in the city's skyline.

Steve chuckles and you can feel him sitting down next to you. It's not the first time you sit together on the roof, everybody in your apartment building knows this is the Rogers siblings' spot.

You don't say anything and neither does Steve, and you're especially glad he doesn't say anything when he sees a tear falling down your cheek but simply wraps his arm around you as you lay your head on his shoulder.

"What's going on in your head, little sis?" Steve asks you after you stop crying.

You try to gather your thoughts, trying to find a way to make sense of everything swirling in your head. You take a deep breath before you pull away slightly and turn your head towards the city again. "What should I say?" You ask quietly.

"When?" Steve asks with a frown.

"When I love someone." I clarify looking back at him.

"You should say it." He tells you firmly. It's not the first time you've talked about this, Steve knows about your feelings for Bucky and like a good big brother he always tells you to express yourself. "You should tell him."

You sigh and look away from him and back to the New York skyline. "I don't know, Stevie..."

"Why not, Bambi?" You smile softly at his use of your childhood nickname because Bambi is your favorite book, but then you shake your head.

"Have you seen the way he looks at Dot? I have no chance with him. I'm not his type." You say with conviction.

"You really don't see it?" Steve ask, getting a little frustrated.

"See what?" You ask confusedly while looking back at him.

"The difference between you and her is that he looks at her like she's the prettiest girl in the world," Steve says and your heart sinks so you look away from him, but he still goes on. "but when he looks at you it's like... It's like maybe you're magic. He looks at you with such reverence and respect. He looks at you like if he could just have you in his arms, everything would be okay. Like if he had you, nothing could touch him. He looks at you like he just realized what love is."

Steve pauses and grabs your chin gently to make you look at him before finishing. "He loves you. Anyone can see that. You're just too blind to notice it."

Steve kisses your forehead and then gets up and goes back inside to the apartment, leaving you to think about everything he said.

You lay down on the picnic towel on the ground of the roof and look up at the stars. Could Steve be right? Does Bucky really love you back but you just haven't noticed?

If Bucky had feelings for you, certainly you would've noticed.

Yes, he's protective of you and he's always happy to have you around, but you've been friends for over a decade and he is your brother's best friend, so he probably sees you as just that. His best friend's sister.

But he never did treat you like Steve's annoying little sister.

Even when you were kids he always tried to include you in their games and literally held your hand whenever the three of you went somewhere, like the park a few blocks over.

He would always coo on you when you got any scrapes while playing and kiss your boo-boos away.

He's always been very sweet to you and he stood up for you as much as he did for Steve whenever someone bothered you.

But could that really be actual love? Or is it just affection for a girl he's known since you were little and sees as his own little sister?

You rub your eyes before putting your hands behind your head, getting comfortable while looking at the sky full of stars.

In the meantime, Bucky heard everything from the window of your apartment.

He couldn't deny the truth of what Steve had said, he did look at you with a sense of reverence and respect, like you held the key to unlocking his heart and making everything else in his life fall into place.

But he also knew that he had to tread carefully, to approach you in the right way or risk scaring you off completely.

As much as he wanted to take control of the situation and make things happen on his terms, he knew that he needed to let you come to him, to give you space to process everything that Steve told you and to allow you time to realize how much you actually mean to him.

As Steve climbs back into the window, he gives Bucky a pointed look and a pat in the back, silently encouraging him to talk to you.

Bucky takes a deep breath and then climbs into the stairs, getting to the roof but not getting any closer to you. He's determined to talk to you, but his nerves are getting the best of him.

You can hear Bucky coming to the roof and when he doesn't move closer you frown slightly but think he's just giving you a moment before sitting next to you.

When he stays put for a couple of minutes, you roll your eyes and with a small smile you say "You can come lay down next to me, if you want." Loudly enough for him to hear, your eyes never leaving the stars above you.

Bucky's heart skips a beat as he hears your invitation, and without hesitation he steps forward and drops down onto the towel beside you.

You can tell he's trying to keep his movements quiet, not wanting to startle you or disturb your peaceful contemplation.

He lays there quietly for a few moments, taking in the sight of you lying there so effortlessly beautiful, before finally speaking.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear those words coming from your mouth," he whispers and moves closer to you, placing one arm around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, feeling incredibly vulnerable by the fact that you were so physically close and you were allowing him to get even closer.

"Thanks for letting me do this," he added, indicating the embrace.

"It's not the first time we've watched the stars together, Buck..." You whisper back, resting your head on his while willing your heart to stop beating so fast.

Bucky smiles softly, feeling a warm sense of contentment wash over him as he wraps his arms around you, feeling incredibly grateful for this moment of intimacy between the two of you.

He can feel the gentle weight of your body against his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. He listens to the sound of your breathing, feeling his heartbeat slow down as he takes comfort in your presence.

"Yeah, it's not the first time... But it feels different tonight." He whispers back, feeling a newfound confidence and boldness coursing through his veins.

He moves even closer to you, pressing his face against your neck and inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of your skin. "I've always... I've always wanted to hold you like this."

"I... I always wanted you to..." You whisper back hesitantly and bite your lip when he presses his face against your neck, almost scared to move, worried that if you do it'll ruin the moment.

Bucky feels a surge of pleasure course through his body as he hears your response, knowing that you too cherished these special moments with him.

When you don't say anything at his physical contact he continues to hold you tightly, feeling a deep sense of connection growing between you.

He presses his lips against your neck, gently kissing and nibbling on your skin, feeling a newfound desire burning within him that he had never experienced before.

He wants more than anything to take things further, to remove your clothing and explore every inch of your body with his hands and mouth, but he forces himself to remain patient and wait for your signal that you actually want something more intimate.

"You know... I've always been afraid to show you how much I really care about you," he whispers into your ear, his voice barely audible over the sound of the city below them.

"Steve thinks you love me..." You say quietly, hoping to god that your idiot brother is right for once in his life.

Bucky freezes a little, feeling a mixture of relief and surprise wash over him. He's surprised at your boldness but so relieved that the truth is finally out there.

But he also knows you well enough to know that if he wants you to truly believe that he loves you, then he has to act quickly to prove it to you and make sure that you never doubt his feelings again.

"Yeah... I do love you, Doll. More than anything else in this world. And I'm sorry that I didn't say it sooner... But I was afraid to lose you." He admits quietly, as he takes your face in his hands.

"You really mean that?" You ask quietly, a mix of hope and uncertainty clear in your voice.

"I do." He says without hesitation while he looks at your beautiful face turned towards his. "And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I care about you."

The smile that comes to your face is so bright that it feels to Bucky like the sun suddenly came up in the middle of the night.

"I know you already gave me a birthday gift," He says, referring to the jacket you gave him this morning. "But can I ask you for one more?"

You're definitely curious about what he wants so you nod. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can you give me a birthday kiss?" He asks quietly while brushing a strand of hair aways from your face and behind your ear.

You blush a little and can't help but smile because he wants a birthday kiss from you, not Dot or any other girl, and you nod slowly as you start leaning in.

Bucky meets you halfway and when your lips touch it feels like fireworks, your stomach filling with butterflies while he brings you closer to him while deepening the kiss.

After a few minutes you both pull away for air, breathing heavily while looking at each other. "Wow." Is all he says after a moment.

You giggle and bite your lip. "Happy birthday, Bucky." You say softly and give him a kiss on the cheek before settling back against him, your head on his chest as you look up at the stars.

Bucky wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and then relaxes while looking up too, more content than ever to finally have you in his arms.

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tom-holland-parker · 1 year

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Closer

Summary: You’d never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didn’t feel close enough

Warning: 18+ smut (cockwarming, boob worship?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 620

Masterlist

You’d never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didn’t feel close enough.

“Can you lay on top of me?” You asked quietly into Bucky’s neck

“What” he chuckled, “No i’ll crush you”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, your arms squeezing him tighter as if that would solve your problem, “yes that’s the point, please I just want to be close to you”

“You do realize that your entire body is wrapped around mine” His hands moved to rub your back, “If you were any closer I’d be inside of you”

“That's it” You gasped, eyes lighting up at the idea, “Let me cockwarm you”

Bucky laughed, “what has gotten into you tonight”

“We can fuck first if you want too but just don’t pull out after” You whined, already throbbing at the thought of him being buried deep inside you, “Please I just want to feel you all over”

He smiled, getting hard just from your desperate words. Without another thought his hand moved down the curves of your body until he reached your underwear. A low whimper left your mouth as he cupped your pussy through the thin fabric, “oh baby you’re soaked”

Your hips began to shamelessly grind on his hands slowly, “I just need you so bad, please”. Your eyes were shut as you began to kiss and lick his neck in the spots that always made him weak in the knees.

Easily giving in, he made quick work of pulling his now hard cock out of his boxers. Before you knew it he was slowly thrusting inside of you, wanting to stretch you out and have you filled to the brim with his cock. “Oh fuck that feels good” You moaned as your hands gripped his biceps

“Yeah” His arms wrapped around your body, leaving you stuck and helpless, “This is just what you need right. My good girl just needed me to fill her up” His voice, sweet like honey, ignited a fire inside you. He was right, you needed this. You needed him to hold you tightly and fuck you just right, his cock hitting all the right places.

You hand moved to your tits, fingers pulling and teasing your nipples. Bucky’s eyes couldn’t leave your body, the way you were openly doing whatever it took to make yourself feel good just made him want you even more. He lets out a deep growl as he moves to grip your ass, “Look at you, playing with your tits like a little slut. Are you gonna make yourself cum baby”

His hand moves between your bodies down to your clit, his fingers rubbing the sensitive bud. “Oh” You gasped as your hips began to move, meeting all his thrust, “I’m gonna cum, don't stop”

“Go on, be a good girl, cum for me” Bucky moans as he moves your hands from your nipples and replaces his mouth, sucking and gently biting down. “Cum for me so I can fill you up and keep you stuffed with my cock”

The promise of him letting you cockwarm him while you were full of his cum set you off. Your thighs tightened as you came around his cock. Bucky followed quickly behind, his tongue flicking your nipples as his cum poured into you.

You took a deep breath, coming down from the high of your orgasm. “Thank you” You breathlessly said as you rested your head on his shoulder. Bucky smiled and kissed your forehead and adjusted himself further inside you, fulfilling his promise, “anytime”

TAGLIST

@wildxwidow @marvelgurl @inas-thing @hehehehannahthings @prancerrparkerr @randomwriter1021 @hunnybunimdun @raajali3 @liltimmyst

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winterarmyy · 9 months

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Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If it was one thing that Bucky should expect when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd, adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep, that Bucky could see from a mile away, had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medical helpers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties, heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heros of the country'.

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around, "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again as he informed, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to."

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve was there too.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the medic staff went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty and only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind. She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask thingy plastered with the obvious letter.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn. She guessed that the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh Steve?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure when she insisted for him to stay.

But alas, Steve was also as stubborn as her.

It took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this." In which Y/N countered, "And he also remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sighed before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N took the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously untangled himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the woman, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship with Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's my good friend from home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which Y/N gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to asked Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism, clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxitey slowly choked her, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground. Her elbows bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

And for a moment Y/N thought her prayers were graciously granted by God, as the crowd was getter louder and the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice still stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a war?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for enlistment, she knew. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, she had never charmed him more.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N closer snuggled into him one last time, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home that's laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the message for her to understand. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it.

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the floor, that was when she wailed; an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world.

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins.

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised."

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face if God with loath, rage, despair, and tears.

The night was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war. And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few month back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted her white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, God had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the 2nd life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

So, when she reached her 6th life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her 6th life was filled with rage and vengeance that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her 7th life, with a new name that was given by her 7th parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her 1st life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so hugely on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her 6th life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does, when the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth because who would've believe her words?

She wasn't Steve. There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N. She looked like she was in her teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around the thin of her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her 6th life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her 6th life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business, seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her 6th life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin.

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the table of bar. The attacker's face turned away from her where she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her 6th life; but his was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper arm. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #1940s!bucky #tfatws!bucky

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 17 days

Note

Oh no! I accidentally dropped this!🫣 (you can choose if you want to write something fluffy or smutty, I just need 40s Bucky 🤭)

Oh, Sweets!

PAIRINGS: 40's!FWB!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, p in v, Oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (my loves, wrap your man's wiener before your girl-boss on it), a bit of spit play (if you squint). (Please feel free to let me know if I missed anything. 😊)

WORD COUNT: 1,124

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

“That’s right doll, take what I give you. Ugh, Fuck!”

Bucky run’s his fingers through your hair and fists it into a makeshift ponytail, while the other cups your cheek. His thumb wipes at the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Can feel your throat all tight around me, sweets,” he fucks your mouth, hard. You try your best and slacken your jaw, while simultaneously trying to ease up the muscles of your throat.

Your grip on his thighs tightens as you feel the tip of him abuse the same spot repeatedly. Drool pools at the side of your mouth, and leaks down your chin along with some of Bucky’s pre-cum.

You pull away and wrap your delicate fingers around his shaft, expertly moving your hand up and down, like the way you know he loves.

Bucky tips his head back against the brick wall and groans, “fuck, sweets. You know what you’re doing, don’t you.”

You giggle and gather a lob of saliva in your mouth before spitting it on his tip and using it as a make-shift lube then proceeding to continue your erotic movements.

Bucky’s face scrunches and his brows furrow and you feel his breaths get even more erratic.

“Where do you wanna finish?” you ask, as you speed up your hand.

Bucky let out a breathy whimper, that’s when you know he’s losing control. “Tits, baby. Please, wanna mark up your gorgeous tits,” he pleads.

You let go of his cock and start unbuttoning your blouse. You do it all, while maintaining eye contact. And it makes Bucky lose his mind, “sweets, you need to be quicker than that or else I’m gonna ruin the pretty dress of yours.”

His own hand is attached to his cock, as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge.

The Brooklyn afternoon was breezier than last summers, the sun bright in the sky.

The alley, where you currently on your knees, is a bit darker than the street. Concealing the both of you to the world out there. But it’s bright enough to see the regular customer finally letting go, the ropes of his seed sputter out of him and lands on your plush tits.

You knew Bucky since your senior year of high school. You were partners in Math class, but that was ages ago.

You’ve never seen him since graduation.

That is, until he started visiting the café you work at.

And that’s when you both started talking.

Just old friends, talking.

Well, that’s what you thought.

You don’t remember Bucky being this handsome, and Bucky doesn’t remember you being this attractive either.

Therefore, Bucky had more in mind, and so did you.

You weren’t looking to be in a relationship, and Bucky wasn’t ready to commit.

But you both feel that attraction to the other.

So, you both came up with a plan.

Bucky walks by the café every day at a specific time, 5 minutes before your break, he looks into the glass pane and makes eye contact with you. You would either slowly nod your head or slowly shake it. If it’s a nod, Bucky gets ready in the alley that’s next to the café. If it’s the latter, Bucky nods in acknowledgement and repeats the same routine the next day.

Today was a ‘nod’ day.

“Stand up, baby. Wanna, make you feel good,” he lifts you up effortlessly, making you wrap you legs around his waist. He turns and presses your back against the brick wall of the old building.

He shoves you skirt up to your hips, and groans at the sight of your soaked underwear, “that all for me, sweets?”

You whimper as you feel him rub his fingers against your clothed slit.

“Didn’t hear you say anything, doll,” he leans in and whispers into your ear and you shudder as you feel his breath against your neck. “Bucky, please,” you whine and grind your hips against his fingers.

He pulls his fingers back, “tell me what you want, sweets.” He takes a hold of your chin and tips it down. He leans in, and your lips are just inches away from each other.

“Need you, Bucky,” you whisper breathlessly against his lips.

Bucky chuckles and nods slightly before pressing his lips against yours.

Your lips move in tandem with his, your run your fingers trough his hair and pull at his roots. He groans at the feeling and pushes you further up the wall.

“Fuck, sweets. Just like that,” he tugs your underwear to the side then slaps the tip of his cock on your clit.

You gasp and whimper at the feeling, “God, Bucky please.”

He follows through and slips in through your entrance.

You moan at the intrusion and feel your walks welcome him with a stretch, you look up and see Bucky’s brow scrunched up as he sinks into your warm heat.

As soon as your both adjusted and ready, he starts thrusting. “Fuck, sweets. Still so tight,” he grunts as he thrusts into you like an animal.

Tucking your head into the crook of his neck, you try to muffle your high-pitch moans.

Bucky grunts into your ear and whispers how good you make him feel. And you go feral at his words and moan loudly as you feel his balls slap against your ass.

“That’s it sweets, taking my cock like a good girl. Making me so fucking proud, yes that it. Fuck!”

The sound of skin slapping skin makes your brain go fuzzy and bite your lip to prevent your voice being any louder than it already is. You whine and helplessly hold onto his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, “Bucky, yes, yes!”

He places a hand on the wall above your shoulder and starts thrusting harder. Reaching new heights in you, Bucky’s cock is impossibly being shoved deeper in you. And you feel like as though you just might pass out.

“Oh God- agh!” you whine harder and tip your head back. Bucky takes advantage of it and starts sucking kisses onto your neck.

Your pleasure increases tenfold, and you start babbling incoherently when Bucky hits that specific spongy spot in you.

Soon, you feel the band in your core tighten. “Shit, Bucky. I’m so close,” you whimper against his head as he continues to abuse your neck with his chaste kisses,

“C’mon sweets, come for me,” he whispers into your ear as he chases after his own release.

Finally, the band snaps violently, “oh fuck!”

You clench hard around Bucky and Bucky moans at the feeling of you milking him.

Soon, you feel Bucky’s hips jerk inconsistently. He lets out a harsh moan, and spurts of his load coat your walls.

“Oh, sweets!”

💌💌💌

Ya girls got uni tomorrow, and is not looking forward to it. Plus, her uterus is shedding. 🙂🙂🙂

Hope yall liked this!!

Lemme know what you lovelies think!!!

I also have kinda forgot about that one ConstructionWorker!Bucky fic, but I am going to be working on that soon. 😩😩😩

Hope yall have a nice week, my loves!!!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

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sparklefics · 3 months

Text

Fire Escapades (2)

Teenagers/40s!Bucky & Reader

Summary: Teenagers in love who are very serious about their feelings.

A/N: Finally I felt inspired to write again :) Reading part 1 is a must here. :P

Fluffy feels ahead! <3 🥰

WC:786

[Masterlist]

“James Buchanan Barnes, get out here right this second!!”

“Oh no. She Buchanan-ed me, she knows you’re here.” Bucky groans.

“You don’t know that for sure.” You say as you untangle yourself from his arms. You suggest going back to your fire escape.

Bucky agrees with you and once you’re out of his room he opens the door and his mama bursts through like a nervous wreck.

“Jamie! Oh honey!”

“Ma, what’s wrong?”

“Mrs. Y/L/N just got back from work and her girl’s gone!”

“Gone, what do you mean gone?” Bucky hated lying to his mom but for you he’d do just about anything.

You managed to get back into your room seeing as the window was now unlocked and wide open. Quickly you get rid of Bucky’s blue sweater and walk out of your room nonchalantly.

“Oh Winnie I just don’t know what to do—”

“Mom? Mrs. Barnes– Bucky? What’s going on?”

Your mom runs over and hugs you then pinches your arm. “Where were you, young lady?!”

“I was just in my room, mom.”

“I swear if you were with that Hodge guy, Y/N I already told you I don’t like him. You’re not to see him again.” Your mom threatened while Bucky stood there barely suppressing a smile. “Why can’t you get a nice boy like Barnes. Winnie’s son is a nice young man, appropriate.”

If only your mom knew how inappropriate you two already had been last night.

“Well, actually I–” Bucky tried to interrupt but you cut him off.

“Shut it, Barnes!”

“Y/N! Don’t be rude.” Your mom scolded you and turned back to Bucky’s mom. “Winnie, darling can you stop by for tea after lunch?”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

___________________________

While Winnie and your mom have tea…

You sit on the fire escape again, this time Bucky joins you. The excuse for him being there was sharing your English literature book Bucky had ‘misplaced’ his. So you sat there pressed up against Bucky, your head gently resting on his shoulder and his left arm wrapped around your waist.

“I’m afraid he won’t come back, my father,” you took a deep breath as you confessed your deepest fears to Bucky. “I’m afraid he’s going to die in this war, Buck. I can’t–” you let your sobs escape. Bucky holds you as you slowly stop crying, giving you forehead kisses and squeezing your hand.

He gently squeezed your hand again to get your attention. “Darlin, I know that I should wait for him for this but I’ll ask your momma if I have to. I’ll ask her today for her blessing. I want to marry you, take care of you–even your mamma. God forbid your father doesn’t make it back, I want you to feel safe and taken care of.”

“Buck, that’s sweet but aren’t we too young?”

“My dad married my ma when they were just fifteen. We’re almost eighteen. I don’t see the difference.” Bucky pressed his lips to your forehead. “Would you want to? I’m sorry I didn’t really ask. Would you like to marry me?”

Bucky stares down at you with his big blue shiny eyes, full of affection for you. You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to. “James, it would be a dream come true. Yes. I would love to marry you.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “I need a minute to talk with our mothers. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky untangles himself from you and turns back to sneak into your house through your bedroom window, only to find his mom, your mom and your dad staring back at him.

“Umm, Sir I can explain.” Bucky starts as he tumbles through the open window.

“Sir?” You turn around, “Dad?!” you screech.

You scramble to get into your room but as soon as you do, your dad pulls you into his arms. And all you can do is cry happy tears. “You’re back!”

He buries his face in your hair and hums happily. “I am darling. I’m home.” He smiles down at you and squeezes your cheeks and drops a kiss to your forehead. Your dad makes eye contact with Bucky, who stands by behind you. “You have our blessing, son.”

“You…approve? But- but we’ve only just met.” Bucky stammers like an idiot.

“I heard– we all did, we heard what you said to my little girl. I know enough, James Buchanan Barnes, y/n would ramble on and on about you on the letters I got from home.”

“Dad!” You groaned and buried your face into his chest. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Bucky extended his hand to your father, “Please, sir, call me Bucky.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fic #40s!bucky #40s bucky #teenage!bucky #teenagers #sparklefics

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ackermansundercut · 3 months

Text

Swing Dancin'

Summary: She was lucky enough to have a regular gig as a singer at a club in Brooklyn, and he was simply the beautiful soldier she had stolen a drink from.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: 1940’s James Buchanan Barnes is a warning, fluff, no angst, implications of smut but not explicit, my first fic in like 5 years please be gentle with me (If you remember this fic from my bucky account I had in 2018 ily and this is the much better, edited version)

Amber lighting illuminated swirling dresses and sparkling crystal glass, the smell of cigar smoke floating through breezes of laughter spilling from the dance floor and the bar. This was her environment, the comfort she thrived in. Women in dresses and skirts that tickled their legs as they were twirled by men in uniform, enjoying normalcy for as long as possible before loading up and shipping off to fight in the war. Y/N got to observe this environment every Friday night. Sometimes, if she let out a saccharine giggle and held back her vomit when the club manager Louis touched her ass and made sleazy remarks, Saturdays too.

Minutes before her set, Y/N was reapplying her cherry red lipstick to her lips, half listening to the soldier holding her compact for her as he chattered on about something or the other. Maybe complimenting the deep blue of her dress, or the way it plunged just a little more than all of the other girls’ in the room, or her beautiful hair done up in curls. Nothing significant enough for Y/N to pay attention to, and certainly nothing that she hadn’t heard before. The man was less than charming and bordering on leery, and it looked as if he didn’t brush his teeth. Y/N got to her feet gracefully, the click of her heels muted in the noise. She shot the soldier a small smirk of a smile, lightly plucking her compact from his fingers and snapping it shut, slipping it into her clutch.

“Thanks darlin’,” y/n hummed ever so sweetly. She left the soldier slack jawed with an absentminded pat on his cheek and turned her gaze towards the stage, shooting a smile at the band who were finishing up with a fun bit of a jazz jive.

Sammy, the bassist, got the attention of the rest of the band and nodded at them, giving them the cue to wrap up the last few riffs so he could announce the woman just as he had every week for the past two months, since she had moved back to Brooklyn and secured this gig. With a final crescendo of the brass, the band was done, and Sammy was at the mic with a charismatic smile.

“Now, now, now, listen up y’all. I’m glad we’re all havin’ a good time, and it’s about to get a whole lot better! ‘Cause we got one of the best singin’ dames in Brooklyn back tonight!” Sammy shouted the last few words enthusiastically, and there was a chorus of drunken and sober shouts of approval alike accompanied by raucous applause. Y/N rolled her eyes, her smile still adorning her lips and a light flush visible high on her cheekbones. She absentmindedly patted her hair, smoothing her dress once more. In the split second before she was meant to take the stage, movement beside her shoulder caught her attention. With a quick glance to her right, Y/N snatched a glass of amber alcohol out of the oblivious soldier's hand and downed it in one go, the burn welcome in her throat. The man, once he had worked through a moment of shock at what exactly just happened, protested, but when she turned her gaze to him and his greyish blue eyes met her beautiful, enthralling ones, his voice caught in his throat. She dropped her mascara coated eyelashes into a demure wink at the admittedly handsome man, a smile on her cherry lips.

“Thanks for the drink, soldier,” she said sweetly, sparing him one last glance before swanning up the steps to the stage. Her lips curled back in place as she flashed a brilliant smile to Sammy, who handed her the microphone and tipped his hat before moving back to stand beside his bass. She glanced out at the audience, smatterings of applause meeting her in any direction she shifted her gaze.

She recognized a few faces, regulars of this particular club. Others were new. She noticed the soldier she had used as a mirror holder, and the soldier she had stolen the drink from. She had seen him a few times before, and who could forget those eyes? She also recognized a few other faces, a man with whom she had slept with once or twice because he said he drove fast, and she liked feeling alive. A girl who she had saved from a creep, and a few simply damn good swing dancers who made their impression on the singer. The new ones were always the most interesting, though, because she tried to guess who she would see next week, and who, on the off chance, would tip her for her singing.

“Well, aren’t you all just a sweet crowd,” she hummed into the microphone, shooting a dazzling smile at the audience as she adjusted it to her height, garnering her some whistles and shouts of the positive sort, making her smile internally to match the one playing on her lips. Good crowd tonight. “I believe our lovely Sammy over there did a mighty fine job of introducing me, so I might as well go ahead and start singing,” she let out a peal of laughter that was as enthralling as the notes that slid past her cherry lips as she sang. She had one hand on the mic stand, the other delicately placed on the mic itself as she started her first song of the night, a fast jazzy crowd-pleaser about a little bit of love on a hot summer night in Hollywood. She moved her hips as she sang, a smirk or a grin adorning her lips throughout the entirety of her set. She loved watching the crowd dance as she sang, though she couldn’t help the way her eyes strayed to where a specific soldier was dancing with a beautiful girl, though his eyes weren’t on his date. Every single time Y/N unwittingly allowed her gaze to drift to that section of the floor, his eyes were on hers as she moved her hips and sang her pretty little heart out in that sultry, swing voice of hers. Through every song, the slow and the fast, she met his eyes at least once. At one point, during her third or fourth song, he went to the bar and perched himself next to a skinny blonde boy, but never took his eyes off of the woman commanding the attention of the room from the small stage.

Y/N finished her set after her second extra song, pushing the time limit that Louis had set for her, laughter bubbling past her lips as she caught a rose thrown from somewhere in the crowd. She quirked an eyebrow and grinned, facetiously placing it between her teeth and turning to Sammy with an exaggerated curtsy, who without hesitation swung the woman around in just enough dance to give the audience a good laugh.

“I thank you all kindly, you’ve been more than darling. Now, back to the band!” Y/N called out into the microphone before winking at the crowd and descending the few steps to the floor level. As per usual, there were a few people at the base of the stairs telling her she did well, and a few bold men doing their best to take her home with them tonight. She graciously accepted the praise, kissing a few cheeks and reminding everyone she’d be here next week as well. And as soon as she could, she slipped back to the bar, weaving between dancing couples until she was leaning against the hardwood.

“Hey baby, give me something strong,” she called to the bartender, who flashed her a smile and nodded, reaching for the bourbon as he responded.

“Amazing as always, y/n!”

He was just handing her the glass, the cool surface barely skimming her fingertips before it was stolen out of her hand and downed by none other than the soldier she had stolen a drink from at the beginning of the night. She couldn’t help the abrupt laugh that escaped her throat, an eyebrow raised as she raised a hand at the bartender for another drink .

“I suppose we’re even now, aren’t we soldier?”

“I suppose we are, doll,” he said sweetly and leaned against the bar beside her, a crooked smile on his lips. She took a moment to study his face. He was handsome, sure, but it was the easy nature of his smile and the light of life in his stormy ocean eyes that drew her in. He had his hat sitting cocked on his head, and the way his uniform fit perfectly across his broad shoulders made something flutter in her lower stomach. She grabbed her drink from the bartender with a grin of thanks and took a small sip as she examined the man in front of her.

“What did you think of the show…?” She trailed off, opening the door for him to offer his name.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, ma’am,” he shot her another smirk, tipping his hat, “at your service. I think I truly did see one of the most beautiful, best singin’ dames in this country,” James said. There was a light blush threatening to creep up Y/N’s cheeks, but she tilted her chin down for a moment to attempt to keep it at bay. She fluttered her eyelashes a bit, pulling her painted lower lip between her teeth. She hummed thoughtfully for only a few moments before her fingertips were seizing the rim of her glass, and she was downing her entire drink, setting the glass back on the table. James was looking at her with an open expression of amusement and curiosity, and she felt the corners of her lips curling into a genuine smile subconsciously.

“I think you want to ask me to dance, Sergeant,” Y/N stated, her eyebrow raised and mirth dancing in her eyes. James Buchanan Barnes mirrored her expression, nodding after a millisecond of thought with a chuckle and offering his hand.

“Well then, doll, it would be my pleasure if you accompanied me in a dance,” James said. Y/N didn’t respond with words, only settling her hand in the larger, rougher one of James Barnes, allowing him to pull her into the center of the dance floor. He swung her around for more than just one dance, spinning her from left to right and lifting her off the floor into his arms, and then back to the ground to twirl some more. He left her breathless, both from the dancing and his charm. It was as if the expression of joy was glued to y/n’s face, laughter spilling past her lips with each dip and turn. James Buchanan Barnes knew how to dance. Y/N was no stranger to dancing with, well, strangers, but she had never felt so at ease with anyone else. James had an aura to him, a warmth that radiated and filled her chest with more than a few butterflies.

Soon enough, the boys on stage slowed the pace to a smoother, crooning song, and Y/N found herself pressed close to James’ chest. His cologne clouded any sort of thought in her mind, and she couldn’t help but reach up with a delicate hand to rest on his clean shaven jaw. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied on her waist mirrored her touch, sliding up her shoulder to cup the back of her neck. Y/N felt her breath catch between her parted lips as James’ smirk melted into something sweeter, and an irresistible magnetic pull drew their lips together. The moment their lips met, what began as a sweet, soft, first kiss dissolved into one with more heat, more want, more everything and it felt as if every nerve that ran through Y/N’s body had gained a static charge. The noise of the band and the din of the people surrounding the pair dimmed in comparison to the blood rushing through Y/N’s ears, and she went as long as her singer lungs would allow before the burning need for oxygen forced her to pull away from the sergeant's lips. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he had a boyish grin on his lips when he caught her gaze.

“You wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” James murmured, his voice only audible to her. She nodded, a clever smirk back on her red lips as she looked up at the soldier through her eyelashes.

“C’mon, let’s go to my place,” she said. And they went, James waving to his friend that Y/N had seen him sitting with earlier, and Y/N stopping for a moment to collect her tips from the night. Once outside of the club, James had Y/N pressed against the wall outside of the club for another kiss, his lips cascading down the column of her throat and causing a whine or two to escape Y/N. She interrupted him when a cab finally paid attention to her halfhearted hailing, and she lightly shoved at James’ chest to get his attention and get him into the car before the impatient driver left without them. Y/N managed to give the cabbie her address, a small apartment above a family owned grocery store, before James’ insatiable lips were back on hers.

The pair shared countless kisses in the back of the car, their hands becoming more daring with each minute of the short ride. It wasn’t long before the car stopped and the annoyed cabbie grumbled something or another at the couple, so she tossed a bit of cash over the seat to the driver and grabbed James’ hand, pulling him up the stairs and fumbling with the lock, giggling when James kissed her neck impatiently from behind her. When she finally got the old door open and had taken only a step inside her apartment, James closed the door with his foot and had his hands on her waist as if they belonged nowhere else. He had her spun around and pressed to the door before she even got a chance to catch her breath, and he took a moment to appreciate the dazed look in her eyes. Y/N was less than patient, however, and reached up to tug his face down to hers. She swallowed his chuckles with open mouthed kisses, and his hands roamed the expanse of her back and waist. Her hands fingertips tugged at the ends of the short hair at the nape of his next, and he let out a low, deep groan and moved his lips to the beautiful woman’s neck, then her collarbone, and she responded eagerly, a needy whimper sounding as pretty as her singing graced James’ ears. The soldier groaned lowly at the beautiful noise, and before she knew it, his hands moved again. They were beneath the plush of her thighs, lifting her up. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist with a quiet giggle, a sweet little noise that had James grinning. He turned and with only a few strides, her apartment was quite small, she was on the bed as he hovered over top of her, running his fingers through her beautiful hair. His dog tags slipped from where they were tucked into his collar, and Y/N had to fight the urge to grab them with her teeth and tug his face right back down to hers. Everything about her was beautiful, and he hungrily took in every detail of her features with ravenous eyes. Her lips were swollen and her lipstick was a bit smeared, her hair slightly tousled. He had left a couple hickies on her neck, and he failed to suppress a grin at the sight. She didn’t fail to notice his beauty, either, and she sent him an alluring smile fit for a vixen.

“I suggest,” Y/N began, one of her hands ghosting up the sergeant's front, “you start taking my clothes off now, Sarge,” she murmured in her breathy, nothing short of sexy voice that had James’s blood flow change direction. He groaned and seized forward to steal another kiss from her before pulling back and tugging lightly at the strap of her dress.

“Yes, ma’am,” his deep voice rattled her to her core, and she grinned. There was a flurry of clothing hitting the floor in a haphazard pile, and Y/N had a fleeting thought that she had never been happier that she didn’t have neighbors.

Y/N woke to golden sunlight dancing across her eyelids and warming the bare skin of her back, a heavy arm draped across her waist tickled her side as fingertips traced invisible shapes onto her skin. She forced her eyelids apart despite the lull of peace in the quiet morning drawing her back to sleep, the corners of her lips tilting into a blissful, surprised smile when she met the gaze of the man sharing her bed.

“Well, Sergeant, didn’t quite expect you to stay the night,” she murmured sleepily, leaning up slightly to press a kiss to James’s lips. It wasn’t something she did often, allowing men to stay the night, let alone greeting them in the morning. He was just different. He sent the dame a grin, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, the gentle motion sending a shiver up her spine. This wasn’t very common for him either, staying the night and into the morning. She was just different.

“What, and leave the most beautiful dame in Brooklyn to wake up alone?” James hummed, shaking his head with a soft smile.

“What a gentleman,” Y/N teased with a laugh, propping her head up with her hand, meeting James’s captivating gaze. She tugged the sheet up slightly, allowing her a bit more modesty under his thoughtful eyes. He was staring at her as if he was a man with a million questions, and she held the secrets to the universe. It was a good few beats of silence before he spoke, his fingers never ceasing their sweeping motions on her waist as he contemplated his words.

“You know, doll, I’ve still got a week before I ship out, and I want to get to know you better, if that’s alright with you,” he stated, and Y/N could’ve sworn she saw the tips of his ears turn a Typically, on the off chance she allowed a man to stay overnight in her bed, the second they began to imply that they wanted to see her again, she cut them off with a sweet kiss and a push out the door. Instead, she silenced the little voice in her head, and she found herself pulling her lower lip between her teeth, barely concealing an elated smile.

“It’s more than alright with me. If we only have a week, I do believe we better make the most of our time together, then. Why don’t we start by going for breakfast, Sergeant Barnes?” She suggested, cursing the girlish butterflies in her stomach. He let out a laugh, almost sounding relieved, and James Buchanan Barnes found himself nodding his head and cupping her cheek with one of his hands, tracing the outline of her lips with his thumb.

“I think that’s a fine idea, sweetheart. And you can call me Bucky.”

A/N I'm so happy to be writing again, even this is just an updated, edited version of one of my favorite fics from my old blog!!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #40s!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #avengers fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #soldier!bucky #bucky barnes x reader

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littlelioncub43 · 2 years

Text

Just a Taste

Summary: You and Bucky have a nice routine down: he takes you out to dinner, some dancing, then you lure him upstairs to make you both cum in your pants. But this time, you want a little taste of something new.

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY, minors DNI), making out, dry humping, hand job, blow job, Bucky isn’t a virgin but he’s never gotten a bj before, switch!Bucky, switch!Reader, Reader is a menace but in a good way, mention of fingering and pussy eating, vocal Bucky (he’s a screamer), pet names (I avoid the term ‘doll’ like the plague), fluffy times, and cutie patooties in love.

Word Count: 3,000

A/N: This was supposed to be shorter than it was. But oh well! I was in a dick sucking mood again, and I thought that since I did 40s!Steve, I might as well do 40s!Bucky. Let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Send me some horny 40s Bucky thots too, please! Ok! I love you guys!

Kisses💋

—K

It was a routine at this point: Buck would take you out to dinner, some dancing, a stroll through the park on the way home, then you’d lure him upstairs to your apartment to grind on him until you both came in your underwear. So, when you whispered between mind-numbing kisses that Clara and Margaret weren’t home, Bucky immediately knew what you were implying— his dick did too.

The moment the door to your apartment was shut, you were on each other. Your hands in his hair to angle his lips just the right way, his hand on your waist to hold you as close as humanly possible, and one hand holding your leg hiked up around his waist. He had you against the wall, your back pressed into the light floral wallpaper while you devoured his lips just how he likes it. And the hard, throbbing bulge pressing into your core told you that he likes it a lot.

You quiver in his arms when he gently rolls his erection into you, he was still so shy, scared to go too far or move too fast with you. You reward him with a soft moan, and tug his hair teasingly. Bucky grunts at the gentle sting at his scalp, his cock twitching happily, his lips breaking from yours to gasp for air.

“Jesus, Sweetheart,” he rasps out, “you keep that up, this’ll be over sooner than I’d like,” he chuckles and reclaims your lips, sneaking his tongue into your mouth to try and fight for dominance of the kiss. You let him lead for a moment before rolling your hips into his, the sensual grinding of your clothed core against his never failed to leave you both gasping. “Oh fuck, that’s it—so fucking good…”

“My, what a filthy mouth you have, Mr. Barnes,” you tease, “what would your mother think?”

“Please, do not mention my mother right now,” he begs, making you both laugh.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I can take your mind off it,” you smirk and push off the wall, guiding him towards the couch. Bucky eagerly leans into the cushions and pulls you into his lap, sighing contently when you take your place on top of him. Your mouth attaches to his again, this time sloppier. You let your tongue slide against his slowly while your hips begin to move against his. Bucky purrs when you kiss him, the way your tongue swirls around his mouth and the sweet taste of your spit sends his head spinning every time, and he fucking loves it.

The sound of his belt being undone has Bucky’s brain short-circuiting, you were still humping him, his own pace stuttering as his mind tries to catch up with what’s going on. He breaks the kiss to grab your hands gently.

“W-What are you doing?” He practically moans into your mouth. You smirk and bite your lip.

“Nothing you won’t like,” you whisper before kissing his lips and trailing kisses along his jaw and neck, his grip on your hands loosening with each messy kiss. When you find the spot on his neck that makes him shiver, you sink your teeth into it. The action has Bucky’s body jolting with electricity and a desperate need to cum that he can’t ignore any longer. You pull his zipper down, slowly peeling back the layers that separate you from his aching cock. His hands paw at your hips to help ground himself—Bucky wasn’t a virgin, but something about you made it feel like his first time. Each touch, each kiss, each loving word had his stomach filling with butterflies and left him shaking for more.

You trail your kisses lower, dipping your lips down to suck a hickey into his collarbone (just low enough for him to hide behind his shirts). A wicked smirk paints your face when you hear Bucky whimper for you, but you hide it in a sloppy kiss, your hands messing his hair up even more. Bucky smiles and suckles at your tongue, savoring the taste of your mouth like it was his favorite flavor. He feels one of your hands leave their refuge in his hair to slide down his neck, your touch was teasing and feather light as it went lower and lower. His heartbeat quickens when your fingers graze along his chest and abdomen, then your soft hand is slipping into his pants, sneaking under the cotton fabric of his boxers.

“A-Ah!” He shakily gasps, his eyes blown wide as his head tips back to look for God. The feeling of his heavy cock resting in the palm of your hand has you moaning while you watch him. You can’t resist giving his thick girth a gentle squeeze, the action has Bucky twitching and groaning your name in a lusty growl you’d never heard before. He makes the mistake of looking back to you and sees your hand stuffed down his pants, the sight is almost too good to be true.

“Oh fuck,” his voice was breathy and strained as you kiss along his sharp jawline, focusing on his sensitive spot like it was your reason for living. Each throb of his cock in your hand and throaty groan had your neglected pussy weeping for attention. But you could wait until later, you had other plans for tonight.

Carefully, you free his dick from the confines of his black dress pants, noting the relieved sigh that Bucky lets out in your ear. Giving his neck one last peck, you meet Bucky’s dazed eyes with a gentle smile. He curses under his breath, your plump lips were too good for him to resist. You squeak in surprise when he surges forward and smashes your mouths together once more. It was a passionate, feverous kiss, you both moved as if the world existed solely in this kiss.

When the burn in your lungs got too much, you pulled back for air, foreheads resting together as you breathed each other in. You gave him no time to rest as you slowly stroked his cock, dragging your hand across the silky skin of his shaft.

“O-Oh…Oh my god,” Bucky gasps before chuckling at himself. He was wrecked. And this was only from your hand. The power you hold over him should scare him, but the sensual way your hand caresses his manhood has his mind going blank. He cradles you to him, his hips driving upwards into your hand, matching your leisurely pace. There’s a glint in your eye that tells him you were up to something, and fuck, right now, he’d let you do anything you wanted to him.

You lean back a little and still your hand, your head tilted down as you gather the saliva in your mouth to pool on your tongue. Bucky watches as you let a thick string of spit fall from your devious mouth and land on his weeping tip. His jaw flies open as he moans your name in shock, the hot spit coats his shaft as you work it into him, moving your fingers across the sensitive skin to get him nice and wet. You chuckle throatily at his reaction.

“Feel good, Buck?” You bite your lip and look up at him like you didn’t just spit on his cock. He wants to glare at you and say something smart, but then your hand speeds up and his mind is once again wiped clean.

“F-Fucking hell,” he grunts instead, his eyes flutter a little as he basks in the pleasure you graciously give him, listening to the slick sounds of your fist stroking his shaft.

“Take that as a ‘yes,’” you tease and kiss his neck once more, your kisses more aggressive than before, each one accented with a nip of your teeth. Bucky shivers when your lips descend his throat and to his collar bones, but when he feels you sliding out of his lap, his eyes open in confusion.

“What are you doing?” He asks through breathy moans, his hands trying to hold you in place on his lap, but you managed to placate him with a teasing bite to jaw. When you land on your knees in front of him, he can barely contain the excited curse that falls from his lips. “Shit—W-what are you doing?”

“Shhhh, Bucky, it’s ok,” you coo, your free hand stroking his inner thigh to calm him down. You tug at his undone trousers and look up at him through your lashes (you always knew how to get what you wanted from him), “can you take these off for me, baby?”

Bucky has never moved faster in his life. He pushes his trousers and boxers down even lower, letting them pool at his ankles as he waits for your next move. You hum and lick your lips. Slowly, you drag your hand up his inner thigh, your fingertips just grazing his skin. You’d never done this before, but you’d heard a few (graphic) stories from Clara about it and ever since then you couldn’t help but dream about trying it with Bucky. He was always such a gentleman, so kind and loving—you just want to make him feel good.

You feel a lump of nerves catch in your throat but when Bucky’s larger frame shuddered as your thumb swiped over his leaking head any and all worries disappeared. You can feel his icy blue eyes burning holes into your skin, watching and waiting for your next move. With a soft sigh, you bring your lips to his knee, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin. You move higher and higher, kissing his inner thigh as slow as you could. You could feel the thick muscle tense each time you kissed him, small little whimpers flowed freely from his mouth, his breathing was erratic, and his cock throbbed wildly in your hand.

“Jesuschristjesuschristjesuschrist,” he chanted over and over, his eyes were locked on yours the second you looked up at him, your pretty mouth was dangerously close to his aching dick that was making a mess in your hand. You wink at him and Bucky can’t help but smile bashfully. The smile doesn’t last very long when your hot tongue slides up his inner thigh. “Oh god!”

His hands instinctively clutch your hair and neck, his grip firm but not forcing you anywhere you don’t want to go. You giggle at his reaction and snuggle closer to him, your hand on his cock stopping as you hold eye contact with your lover. Bucky’s legs shake gently as you lean in, your lips getting closer to his leaking tip. Tenderly, you plant a kiss to his head.

“Fuck!” He curses in a whiny voice, fighting to keep his eyes on the scene in front of him. He wanted to burn the image of you between his legs into his eyelids. He never felt anything quite like this. Sure, he’s gotten a hand job from a date or two but no one’s ever used their mouth on him before. He’d heard stories from some of his friends about it, but he was never lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it—until now.

The feeling of his velvety skin on your lips is enchanting, and nearly as intoxicating as the taste of his precum you get when you lick it from your bottom lip. You moan at the taste and immediately swipe your tongue across his tip to collect the pearly beads eagerly. Bucky tosses his head back, his eyes squeezed shut as you lapped at his dick like a kitten. His hips twitched with excitement each time your wet tongue slithered across him, it was turning him into a mess. “Aahh! Ah-hah! Ohhhhh shit!”

“Oh, Bucky, you taste so good,” you mutter softly before wrapping your lips around him, finally taking him into you. Bucky’s jaw drops wide when he feels your hot mouth surround him, his eyes snapping open as his face crumples in euphoria.

“Fucking Jesus Christ!” He bellows, his eyes trained on you as you begin to move, bobbing your head up and down at an eager pace. With each stroke you take more and more of his length into your mouth, mentally reciting the notes that Clara gave you:

Breathe through your nose. You take a deep breath through your nostrils and sink down his shaft even more, his tip breeching your throat. You hear Bucky whimper your name and feel his length flex in your throat.

Suck harder when you pull back. As you lift your head, you hollow your cheeks, sucking as hard as you could around his tip. The reaction you get from him is exactly what you hoped—his eyes roll back in his head and his grip on your hair tightens. “P-Princess!”

Take a break when you need to, but jack him off while you do it. You release him with a slick ‘pop’, gazing up at his wrecked form. You smirked to yourself as you took him in; his skin was dewey with sweat, his hair was a mess, face was flushed and pinched with pleasure, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants around his ankles— God, you wanted to marry this man.

Play with his balls. You sneak your free hand down his shaft, cupping his balls in your palm. The moment Bucky feels your soft hand cradle his sack, he wants to cry. A zap of lightning shoots up his spine when you roll them in your palm, your moments were gentle and tender—which made it all the more sinful. He ruts into your hands, trying to gain more friction as his high begins to build.

“Feelin’ good, Bucky?” You ask sweetly and press a series of kisses to his shaft, starting at the base and going upwards.

“F-Fuck yes! So fucking good, babydoll, makin’ me feel so good,” he growls out as you suckle at his tip again, his hands gripping your hair tightly. Your tongue swirling around the mushroom head has his toes curling and his back arching. “M’close! Gonna cum! Gonna make me cum, Sweetheart!”

At his announcement, you engulf his member once more. Wasting no time, you bob your head as fast as you can, your tongue licking at the veins along his skin while your hands fondled his balls eagerly. Bucky couldn’t resist it any longer, his hips began to thrust, matching your pace stroke for stroke. His thigh muscles shake beside your head, his legs spreading wider in a bid to be deeper inside your hot, wet, throat. The room was filled with the sounds of Bucky’s unending moans and his cock fucking into your mouth in a heated rhythm, the sloppy noises were like music to him.

Moan around him. You draw in a deep breath and take him as deep as you possibly could, your eyes water and spill over but you absolutely love it. With your nose pressing into the patch of dark hair at his groin, you moan as loud as you could around him. The sudden vibrations rattled through his entire body, catching him off guard. With a surprised gasp, he finally releases.

“Fucking—Jesus Christ!” He doubles over as you swallow his load, each contraction of your throat pulls a whimper from the pit of his chest. You feel his cock twitching as each rope fills your mouth, his balls are tense in your hand as you pet him gently, encouraging him to give you more and more.

Swallowing was like second nature to you, and the moment you got a taste of his seed on your tongue, you were hooked on it. Bucky gasped for breath, his eyesight was spotty as his head spun like a top. He collapsed back into the couch with a whiny groan, his hands releasing your head from their death grip. You suckled at his softening cock until he whimpered your name. You opened your watery eyes and slowly pulled off of him, he sighed in relief, his spent cock thudding against his stomach with a wet ‘thwack’.

“Holyyyyy shiiiiiiiit,” he sighed with a dazed chuckle, the dopey smile he wore made you giggle with him. Wiping your mouth clean with the back of your hand, you beam up at your loving boyfriend as he stares back. “Come here, Princess.”

He hauls you into his lap, his arms around your waist to hold you as tightly as his trembling arms could let him. You giggle as he peppers kiss after kiss to any part of your skin he can reach, he mutters ‘I love you’ in between each loving peck. When his lips attach to your swollen ones, he slows down, this kiss is much more loving and meaningful than the rest.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, still a little breathless.

“Was it good?” You ask gently and play with his hair idly, you couldn’t help but wonder. He looks at you in astonishment—his chest rumbling with a deep, oddly possessive groan.

“‘Was it good?’ Are you kidding me? It was fucking amazing, Sweetheart,” he whispers in a husky voice, his hands petting your bare thigh, sneaking up the skirt of your dress. “You’re gonna give me a minute to catch my breath,” he suddenly cups your sopping wet cunt through your ruined panties, his eyes darkening and his voice deepening into a dominant growl, “then I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy until you’re crying. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you whimper into his ear as you cling to him, his fingers rubbing your weeping entrance through your underwear. “Bucky…”

“Until then,” he pulls your panties to the side and slowly caresses your wet folds, his deep groan matching your high pitched whimper as he feels your bare pussy for the first time, “I’m gonna see how many times I can make you cum on my fingers.”

I no longer have a taglist, if you wish to be kept up-to-date on when I post a fic, follow @littlelioncub-library to be notified 💖

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

#bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes smut #40s!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #40s!bucky x reader #40s!bucky x female!reader #40s bucky #40s bucky x female reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #little lion literature

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accihoe · 6 months

Text

Meeting The Family

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: Turn of events, and Bucky is home after the war. He gets to meet Y/N's family, which happens to be his healing.

Warnings: none? Idk Lmk if there's any upsetting stuff that I didn't mention.

A/n: As always, please don't steal my work. Y'all have a nice day now. God bless.

xxxx

"Honey, I'm just popping down to the store for extra candles before my family arrives." Y/N tells her husband. Oh, right, her family is going to be in their home for two. Weeks. James remembers. And not even a small fraction of them.

"Alright, dollface. I'll be here." Bucky answers. Y/N kisses his cheek before leaving. Once she's back, Bucky is stuck between wearing the brown or the green tie. Y/N stands in the bedroom doorframe with a smile, watching her husband get frustrated at the ties. "The brown one is lovely. But green is my father's favorite color." She says.

Bucky decides on the green one with a smile. "You're positive they'll like me?" He asks, going to her. "Buck, I'm positive. Besides, if they want to stay here they'll have to like you." She says. Bucky chuckles. "I still don't know where everyone's going to sleep." Bucky says. "We'll figure that out when they arrive.".

Low and behold, when the family arrives, they're even more than what he expected. Kids, babies, teenagers, uncles, aunts, grandparents, and parents. He stands shyly in the corner as they pile into him and his wife's newly bought lakehouse. Y/N decided that James needed a spot to recover after the war. He didn't mind living on the streets as long as she was by his side.

"Alright everybody gather round then you can go pick your rooms." Y/N claps her hands. Bucky's own hands get sweaty, and his stomach churns as all the people turn towards him. He takes ahold of Y/N's skirt and fiddles with it. "This," she takes ahold of Bucky, "is my husband. James.". Bucky's cheeks flush as they clap hands, and some males wolf whistle.

The people then scurry off to find a sleeping place. "And? By the way, this isn't even half, or a quarter of them." Y/N grins, hugging her husband tightly. "There's so many of them. Very loud. But I like them." Y/N laughs at her husband and kisses his cheek. In half an hour's time, the sleeping arrangements are sorted, and lots of the family have gone down to the lake.

"Think we should join them at some point, love." Y/N says as she finishes cutting the last slice of carrot for the copper penny salad. "I uh.. what about my scars, honey? Won't they upset the children?" Bucky asks. Y/N turns to him, and her heart aches for him. "Jamie," she takes his hands into hers, "no. They will not. They might ask questions, especially the adults, so be prepared. But I'll be there all the way.". Bucky smiles in relief and leans down to give his wife a sweet kiss.

After a while, Y/N and James join the members at the dam, giving James a chance to meet and greet those who aren't in the water. He looks dashing in his swim trunks and his terry cloth shirt (long sleeved to cover the arm). Once he's greeted all those on land, he stands on one side as Y/N chats to someone he assumes is her cousin.

"Hey, what you waiting for, my love? Go swim." Y/N startles James slightly, which makes her giggle, but her heart aches at the same time for him. "I don't feel like it sweets." He tries to lie, but Y/N gives him a pointed look. "Come on, my darling. Join me, please? I promise I'll make it worth your while." Y/N pleads, batting her lashes at Bucky.

Bucky put chuckles and nods, taking her hand. "Alright. Let's go.". At dinner time, after James said Grace, the family is all together (those who are there) and asking him questions. Bucky finds himself happier with each question asked. Although the war topic stings, their genuine care and respect, especially for those lost at war, soothes the sting when they ask questions related.

At the end of the night, as Bucky lays next to his wife in a spot he'd never thought he'd sleep in his own house, he feels contentment. "I like your family a lot." He whispers. "That's great, because they love you." She whispers back. "Perhaps we should have waited a while before marryin'. We could have had the fam there too." Bucky whispers. "We have them here now." Y/N says, kissing her husband's nose, that is tinted red from the sun.

"Would you do that thing you do, doll, where you tickle me a bear or something?" Bucky asks. Y/N giggles quietly, and to James's surprise, reaches for his left arm instead. Y/N traces her finger around his palm, saying some things Bucky can't hear over the pounding of his heart.

Y/N notices his discomfort and gets his attention by bringing the silver knuckles to her lips and kissing each one of them. Bucky's lips part in surprise. "When I say that I love you, I mean that about every inch of you." Y/N whispers. Before she knows it, her husband is pulling her into a tight hug and kissing feather light kisses all over her face.

Once they pull apart, Y/N cups James's cheek, swiping away a wet trail with her thumb. "Welcome to the family, honey.".

xxxx

Fin. As literally every other BB works, I want to make this a series. Should I?

#bucky barnes drabble #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes angst #40s!bucky

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buckyysdoll · 9 months

Text

— 𝐰𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 —

જ⁀➴ — summary: {based on request} -> “DANCING WITH BUCKY IN THE KITCHEN BEFORE HE GETS DEPLOYED. babe I’m in the trenches rn”; a/n: honey, me too <3 song choice: “we’ll meet again” — vera lynn; cw: implied death risk for your husband, angst, general theme of wartime suffering; pairing: 40s! bucky x f! reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

With your head to his chest like this, you could quite clearly feel each strong beat of his heart. Even down through the stiff starch of his army fatigues, you could feel it — coming up to your ear.

His heartbeat was the safest rhythm you knew and yet you couldn’t help but wonder when you would next hear it; wondered if, in days or weeks from now, it would be stopped by artillery shells.

You tried, dear god you tried, to shut those thoughts out but they stayed — it was an effort to focus on your joint, soft swaying movements, and allow the dance to overtake despair.

There could only now be the boy in your arms and the tears that you hoped he didn’t see, even as they bled out into the darkening green fabric, where they slipped down from your cheeks and onto him.

But of course he saw.

“I’m gonna be coming home just as soon as I can, doll.” He spoke in a whisper, one hand at your waist and the other in yours cradled close to his chest. “It won’t be long and then we’re gonna have so much time, I promise.”

So much time. Enough to walk through life together, still; to start your own family as you’d both always dreamed, with beautiful children, a daughter or son —

That is, if he lived through this war. If your Bucky ever came home.

Just like that, fresh terror took your words before you spoke them, and you could only hold him tighter, clutch your fingers tighter to the curve of his arm. You didn’t know how to voice this, didn’t want to put him in this position — such was the nature of a war draft that he didn’t have a choice, and you both knew that he wished not to go.

After all, how could he willingly leave his wife, his girl, with gladness?

“I know,” was all you could say — all that you could think to say beyond the music and surrounding quiet.

For the music still played on unknowing, coming softly from the little brown radio on the counter. Your shared home was modest, a small place in the city, and this kitchen where you danced was where you had done so many times.

Done it just simply because you loved him and he loved you, too — just to be in his arms and have you in his on a date night, or any ordinary Tuesday.

And if now your dances were numbered there was no song on earth that could ever mean more.

Indeed, you suspected that it truly was the most poignant song of the time you were in, one that all of your country, your great generation, all couples divided by war did share in.

And yet still, the only person who mattered to your heart in this moment was your husband. Your very best friend.

Bucky felt the change — the shift — in you holding tighter to him, and pulled you in closer, closer still, with the hand from your waist moving to the small of your back. Turning his cheek just so, he pressed his lips to the crown of your hair, and you didn’t miss his subtle inhalation of your scent.

Now was perhaps the only time he’d ever have left to memorise you — and though he knew your face more thoroughly than he even did his own, he couldn’t help but look and look and look.

And so you did, for him.

For once he’d breathed you in enough to keep his fear at a temporary bay, he raised his head from your hair and you were left cold in that absence of warmth.

So gently, he instead took your chin between his thumb and index finger.

Now that you could look in his eyes, then, you saw that he too was crying right with you; the smooth skin around them was upset and red, his expression so tender it wrenched at your chest.

You couldn’t help it, you just couldn’t bear to see that pain in the face you so loved, and so you closed your worn eyes against it, against the truth of what you both knew was coming by morning.

God, this war would tear you apart and all you could do was watch.

By now, you both had stopped swaying, though the music played on, faint and warbled from the radio. And as you stood there you kept your hands braced at his shoulders, and he cradled your face in his hands.

No longer did he hold any hand to his chest — even that was now not close enough. He did just all he could think to do then, all he ever even wanted to do.

And gently, oh so gently, Bucky pressed little kisses to each part of your face, one to each of your eyelids, the tip of your nose; one more each to both of your temples.

Everywhere you felt him was a place that warmth then bloomed, up to your forehead, and down to the curve of your jaw —

To the corner of your mouth, and then lips.

And all the while those silent tears still slipped fast from your closed eyes, each touch of his skin against yours going straight to your bones, and settling there.

You could not meet his eyes.

Never in your life had you loved anything so much as you loved him, and holding him now was your only sure tether to life.

He was your husband, your James.

“Look at me, doll. ‘Cmon,” he urged you so softly that you almost didn’t hear it. So softly that you almost missed it beneath the closing notes of Vera Lynn’s voice.

You did as he pleaded and opened your eyes to regret and barely checked agony. The look in them, mirroring his, sliced clean through skin and bone to Bucky’s heart, and he said nothing and just waited for your brewing words to come.

When they did, they almost brought him to his knees at your stocking-clad feet.

“I can’t learn to live without you, James. I simply will not do it.” That last part, you said with conviction.

Or whatever of it you could muster with that shake in your voice.

Now it was Bucky’s turn to only say a broken, “I know”; any resolve he’d mustered for your sake had frayed with the devastated look on your face.

It was 1943, and still the height of World War Two. You both were by now twenty six, but still felt like the kids you’d been.

In the quiet there was just his forehead steady against your own, those hands still cradling your face as though parted around you, for you, in worship.

There was nothing in the room, in the whole damn city but for you two — but for the end of the song and the end of this night —

And his kiss and his kiss and his kiss.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

s.w.a.l.k.

40s!bucky barnes x f!reader; [3.4k] summary: No one at his battalion knows about her, but they all see Sgt. Barnes writing the letters. Everyone wonders what does he have to say—how can so many words fit in him when he has so few to spare most of the time, but at the end of the day, all that matters is that when he receives his replies, Barnes looks happy. Glowing. 📝: this was based on this post. if you like it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. talk to me about it and i’ll adore ya. 🏷️: established relationship, letters, angst, longing.

masterlist | series masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤJune, 1943.

If there was one thing Bucky learned during his first weeks on duty, it was how to write.

Who would've thought?

Not Steve, that's for sure. As a matter of fact, Steve's first letter replying to Bucky involved the words 'damn Buck, didn't even know you could write' and while that was hilarious — like, really, very funny, Stevie, you're oh, so hilarious, Bucky wrote back — it was nothing compared to the gift he received from you.

The first letter you sent back to him proved to him why it was important that he wrote. It was crucial that Bucky learned how to verbalize all those feelings and thoughts pent up inside his mind because here, stuck between trenches, men, gunpowder, and the smell of death, he learned the truth about how ephemeral and fragile everything was.

Bucky needed you to know that amongst the rocky current of the waters of life, you were a lifeline.

His sweetheart.

+++++++ +++++++

The first time he wrote, it was short, objective, but sweet.

You'd been his girl for five months before he was shipped out, and Bucky had never been head over heels before.

The unfairness of it all didn't go unregistered.

Of course Bucky would find the one person he wanted to spend all of his time with just before everything everywhere went to shit. Of course he'd find the gal who he enjoys talking to for hours, with no end in sight—the girl who not only can keep up with him but makes him speed up sometimes to catch up. The girl who likes Steve.

(That one had been a big one. Nothing turned Bucky off more than when one of his dates met his best friend and treated him like dirt underneath their shoe, or grimaced, or sighed as if talking to Steve was a chore they had to put up with in order to be on his good side.

Not you.

Bucky introduced you to Steve, went to get a drink, and came back to the two of you laughing like you'd been best friends since childhood. He'd been so fucking happy to see Steve getting along with a girl of his that for a moment, he'd forgot you were his girl.

Between the two of them, you were not just his date. Those last few months, whenever Bucky left the docks to meet you or after he picked up Steve from the mass and the art classes he taught the children, they went to your neighborhood to share a beer and talk to you. All three, together.

Good friends.

Bucky had, many times, joked that you and Steve were an item on your own—the nerdy duo, the smarty pants, the firecrackers. If Steve alone was trouble, Bucky was now damned because his dame was trouble too, and she took none of it home. No—when trouble knocked on your door or his, you faced it with your chin held up high and your hands ready to throw fists.

He'd seen it first hand; the day someone called Steve a fairy and you became part woman, part beast.

That's when he knew he was in love.

That was also a couple of weeks before he was shipped off.)

Regardless of how everything was just not right, Bucky tried seeing the good amidst the bad.

You had asked — no, demanded — he wrote to you as soon as he had a pen and paper in hand, and Bucky could only obey.

The first time was tentative. Fragile, and uncertain.

The letter had been small, and filled with apologies, words scratched out at the last minute, not even a full page long. What could he say? He didn't want to fill your days with the gloom and darkness that loomed over the battalion.

Then, your reply arrived, and Bucky's feelings grew roots inside of him.

Like vines that catch on a wall and become something alive; his ribcages were now filled with words of yours, and they grew, green and vast, as quick as weed, and watered by the memories of you alone.

When he opened the first letter and read the words,

to my Bucky,

he knew there was no turning back.

It must've been the first paragraph that did him in.

The way you spoke to him through paper was so similar to the way you spoke in person that for a few moments, just for a few precious minutes, Bucky could swear you were sitting right next to him, talking in his ear.

Call him crazy or not, but in the breeze, Bucky sensed your warmth. Your perfume.

He knew that was impossible—uncountable miles separated you two, and it was cold in there, colder than he expected.

Nothing but the smell of men, dirty mud and metal hung in the air, but—

he sensed it.

The words carried you in them:

ㅤㅤㅤto my Bucky,

You wrote! Thank you, thank you, thank you. Threefold I thank, so that three times the words come back. Good gods, how I missed you, Jay. I miss you in the mornings, and I miss seeing your frame walking out of the docks coming my way—call me crazy if you want to, but even the smell of your body when you hugged me just to make me yell in spite because the stickiness would cling to my clothes; I miss all of that, too. Don't you dare hold back anything that crosses your mind, ya hear me? I wanna know it all. I don't give a damn if it's ugly, if it's red, if it's horrible and nothing that you would one day say to a dame—I'm yours, James, and nothing about this world is okay or right anymore, so don't you dare hold back the things you'd want me to know. I'm here to listen to everything you're willing to tell me, the same way I'm about to spill my guts about these days here without you, as if you were here sitting on the edge of my bed and not many miles away, somewhere I don't even know, surrounded by people I'm not sure are being good to you like they should.

He read that paragraph so many fucking times that he remembered the words by heart.

'I don't give a damn if it's ugly, if it's red, if it's horrible.'

How had he found you?

He hugged the paper that day.

With eyes searching sideways to see if anyone was paying close attention to him and his silliness, Bucky sniffed the paper and was gifted with a surprise—there was the lingering scent of your perfume there.

That day, he learned the mistake of hugging a letter so close to your heart, where he wished he could keep it: his tears would stain the words, and his longing for you in his arms instead of a piece of paper would make the thing crease, which is the last thing he wanted.

He later found a good metal box, and that's where he decided he would keep your letters.

With a sticker seal from Brooklyn on the lid, Bucky secured the box within his possessions and picked up a pen and paper.

He'd tell you everything. Not because he had much to say or because he was letting the dark thoughts creep around the corners of his mind, but because he wanted to.

If it came out a little woozy, it was alright.

You understood him even when he didn't understand himself.

ㅤㅤㅤMy sweetheart,

I'm a fool for thinking I'd have no words to say to you. Ever since I got your letter, I feel like I should be walking around with a pen and paper with me at all times, 'cause all I wanna do is tell you all the stupid and important things that happen around here.

The words I'll probably use the most and that you'll see in every letter, I should leave out in the open right at first: I miss you. Goddamn it, I do. I didn't know I could miss someone this much—maybe Steve, 'cause I'm used to having him by my side, and my family, but other than that, I only hoped. And now I do. I'm gonna say this many more times, but I can't wait for all of this to be over so I can not miss you.

Speaking of my ma and the girls—have you found the address I gave you easily? I hope you did. I told Ma in my letter that she should be expecting a visit from someone important to me soon, and that I was devastated that I had to be fucking here instead of there in a moment like this, but I want her to have someone intelligent and important to talk to when I'm here. The girls are young. Kids. These are times too dark for children, and you're exactly the type of gal Ma would hope I brought home—does it count if I'm bringing you home, but from afar? Sending you home. I like the sound of that.

I met a couple of cool guys around here. I'm keeping this paper with me to tell you about their stupid ass jokes, but most of them are too dirty. Don't frown at me—I'm not keeping anything from you, sweetheart, they're just crude and stupid. The shit that man says, y'know? You'd roll your eyes at most of them. I smile to myself every time I think about that.

The Lt. around here told me he likes the way I work. Apparently my aim's good not only in the kitchen flippin' pancakes or throwing darts to impress ya. I'm good with a rifle. I dunno if you wanna know about these gritty details too — tell me to shut the hell up like you always did if not — but since you told me to loosen my tongue, I'm telling you that: I'm a sniper. That means I'm usually in the shadows with my eyes squinting in the direction of the enemy, just looking for a breach. I do my job well. Apparently, they're thinking of upping my rank. I also don't know how to feel about that, but one of the guys here — one of the cool ones, don't worry sweetheart, I'm not hanging around the 'bad influences' (and I write this thinking of you and Steve with your judging ass looks, just so you know) — his name's Morita, and he said that when the battalion is formed and everyone has their Sargeant, we can go back home for a weekend before we're shipped off somewhere else.

A lot of shit is 'classified'.

I know. I can hear you snorting, rolling your eyes. Ya hear that, beautiful? I'll be telling you a lot of 'classified' shit. Tell no one, 'cause I don't know how much they know or not.

Do they have ears and eyes everywhere? Probably. I get the sense they do. Everything you learn, pretend you don't. If Ma asks you something that you know and she doesn't, put on that pretty face of yours that fools Mr. Hirako from the store into giving you any information and tell her "ah, Miss Winnie" (I bet she'll ask you to call her that, she's gonna fuckin' love ya) "I don't know, but we should always pray for the best, right?" She'll buy it, 'cause most people buy anything you say. All they see is that angel face.

I adore that angel face so much. I wish you could fool the entire world into being less idiotic and behave like grown people who can solve their shit with words instead of using something so animalistic like these weapons.

Around here all I think about is our late-night conversations about humanity. I hope you're studying a lot, 'cause one day, you're gonna make this world a little better. 'm not sure where I stand on hopes for the future or not, but if this war ends, there might be some.

Ah! I learned something fun today by overhearing one of the conversations: apparently, when soldiers have someone to write to, they use special little acronyms. Like a secret, y'know? I'll be teaching you the ones I learn, 'kay? You're my special agent, now. You tell me all the info you got on the people over there, I tell you everything I know from the people over here, and together, we keep each other sane.

I'll be finishing this one off with Sealing With A Lot of Kisses. Do you miss my kisses? 'Cause I sure miss yours.

I know not every letter's gonna be light and fun like this one, but I hold your first letter close to my chest every night. It reminds me that you're the one who makes things shine for me. There at home, and here in the darkness, too.

It's dark in here, sweetheart.

I learned to close my eyes and think about the starry sky we loved looking at when we were on our dates at the fair, or walking home late at night. Remember the cinema walks with Stevie and I? That's where I go to when it's too dark, too stinky, too ugly. The things people say around here make the hair on the back of my neck rise, sometimes. Talks of experiments, and the messed up from from over there using humans in all sorts of shit... I'm glad that only men are stupid enough to think that fighting to the death is a solution. I'd hate to see you walking around here more than I hate seeing the sight of blood or still bodies. You don't belong here. I think no one does.

Please, can you do me a favor? Send me another picture of yours? I only have one. I can't risk losing this one and not having another picture of you to stare at. If you leave me with nothing but my fellas' ugly mugs to stare at, I'm gonna have to come back disowned.

I hear a lot of talk around the camp about shipping, so I'll leave you for now. I hope my words find you at peace, and that they bring you some comfort. I carried the papers with me everywhere so they musn't smell nice, but at least it smells like me. I'm sorry if my scent is different now. If it's bad, lemme know. I liked the thing you did with the perfume. My box smells of you. I open it only once a day, to make sure it doesn't go to waste. It's keepin' me sane, and it puts a smile on my face every time I get a whiff of it.

With a lot of adoration in my heart, goodbye for now, sweetheart;

S.W.A.L.K.

yours, J.B.B.

"Congratulations."

It says a lot about how much Bucky pays attention to the folk around here that he recognizes the voice of Morita. He looks up and is met with black hair and slim eyes. "Thanks, Jim."

Morita points at the log that Bucky's sitting on. "Mind if I join ya?"

"Not at all."

"Thanks." Morita sits with a grunt. Everyone around the base is tired—living on the edge with the minimum only makes a human being gruff and annoyed, but Morita still has that aura of someone whose head is right on their shoulders. "I was terrified there for a moment."

"Of what?"

"That they'd make me Sargeant."

Bucky chuckles. "With that aim of yours? Nah."

"Not my thing, Sarge. But I already told the Lt. that I wanna be under your watch. My aim might not be the best, but I've seen yours."

"Have ya?"

"Sure did. I'm good with explosives, though. If you need someone to blow some shit up, I'm your guy."

Bucky puts down his rifle, glad about the cleaning job, and shifts his focus to Jim. "I'll definitely remember that."

"Good, good." The silence that stretches for the next moments proves to Bucky what he already knew—Morita's one of the good folk. He rolls a tobacco, lights it up, and offers it to Bucky.

'Those things smell nasty, Buck. Put that shit out.'

'Oh, c'mon, sweetheart. It makes me light and loose.'

'It'll also make your gums black, your teeth yellow, and your breath stinky. D'you want me to kiss you forever?'

'That shouldn't even be a question'.

'Then lose that.'

He loves when things spark a memory of yours. Bucky shakes his head with a smile on. "Nasty things. Thanks, Jim."

Morita smokes a few puffs with his eyes glued on Bucky, who feels watched and analyzed.

"Who told ya to quit?" Morita asks through clouds of smoke.

Unlike most people, his questions don't come lidded with annoying prodding. Morita's older than Bucky—at least five, or maybe ten years on him, and Bucky liked his presence from the get-go because it was always like this; easy conversation without that feeling of someone snooping around in your life with nothing to offer back. "No one told me to quit, specifically..."

"But they told ya it was nasty, hm?"

Bucky chuckles. "It is a nasty habit."

"Can't argue with that."

They sit in silence as the cigarette's tip burns orange every now and then. The sky is the only thing they have to watch, and Bucky relaxes his back against the three.

Eventually, Morita speaks up again. "You think we're going somewhere cold? Hot?"

Something tells Bucky it'll be cold. He shivers at the feeling that sweeps through him like an omen. "I wanna say hot. My body says cold."

"Ah, fuck me." Morita stubs the tip on his boots' sole, and rests his back on the tree too with a big sigh. "If there ain't a single opportunity to drink 'till the cold is forgotten, 'm gonna find a way to blow that mustache motherfucker myself."

That makes Bucky laugh. "I wouldn't say no to that." I wanna go home. "Blow all of 'em up and we'll go home faster."

"Fuck, I wanna go home," the whisper is so soft that Bucky looks to the side, and finds Morita looking at him. "You ever thought we'd have to live through this bullshit?"

"Never."

"Me neither." Morita looks up at the sky. "My partner says humanity's clinging to the wrong shit and that's why we're losing our way."

Bucky heard Steve and his friends for long enough to recognize a cue when he sees one, and answers with, "They sound smart," before sighing deeply. "Mine says it was the break between the idea of 'technology' and separating that from nature that fucked us up."

It's the first time he talks about you with someone, and he feels that the information is stored safely.

"They sound smart, too," says Morita. "D'you think we'll get to go home for a bit?"

That's what they were told, but Bucky's learning not to trust people's words too much. "It's what they told us. I've been told not to trust bosses too much, though."

"Your partner said that?"

"Yup. She claims everyone who's in charge of others lies to some degree."

Morita's laugh is loud, and nasally. Bucky fucking adores it. "As someone with two kids, she sure knows what she's talking about."

"You lie to your kids a lot?"

Morita cackles. "Sarge—wait 'till you and your babe have kids, and then we'll exchange letters. There's either lying or losing our minds. Or losing the kid. So lying it is."

"I'll send you letters when it happens to ask for advice."

"I'll spare some for you."

Bucky likes the sound of that. "Tell me about your kids?"

The request is met with a smile, and Bucky forgets all about the wrongs and the dark sitting there with Morita.

In the back of his mind, all he thinks about is telling you all the good bits of this conversation later on.

He'll share everything with you.

And then, when the time comes, he'll come home.

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jadedvibes · 1 year

Text

Promises

Summary: You’ve been arranged to marry someone else, but with only one night left before Bucky redeploys, you decide to make a few memories you know you'll never forget.

Pairing: Soft Dark 1940s!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, oral (f), unprotected sex, loss of virginity, corruption kink, slight dub-con, a little sub!bucky, innocent!reader, arranged marriage plans, swearing, pet names, fluffy feels, angst, manipulation, dark!bucky, 1940’s au.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Hi @mickeyhenrys, I am your secret santa! 🎅❤️ Hope you enjoy this soft dark fic that incorporates a Christmas Party/Mistletoe to fit my prompts🎄And a big thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for coordinating this Tis the Season to be Thot-y challenge!

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

The annual Hodge Christmas Eve party was always all the rage, the whole neighborhood vied for an invitation to attend the grandiose and lively gathering. Your family had always wanted to attend, and this year was particularly special because an agreement had been made and an invitation was extended.

The families spoke and you were promised to marry Gilmore Hodge, the son of the town's most successful businessman. Your father was ecstatic that Gilmore’s parents agreed because he knew you’d be well taken care of for the rest of your life. The Hodges’ were happy with the arrangement because your reputation was exactly what they wanted for their son. Your mother taught you the ways of proper homemaking, ensuring you had every domestic duty down perfectly. Together with that, you were obedient and lovely, but most importantly you were chaste. The ideal package for a favorable young man.

After spending some time being excessively primped by your mother to look your best for your future family, and finally putting on your prettiest white dress, you were ready to go. This was what you had to do, it was your duty as a daughter, and defiance wasn’t your strong suit. Plus Gilmore was a hero, after returning home from the war he had earned even more respect than his great family name afforded him — he was an exemplary suitor. You would learn to care for him in time.

However, the engagement had yet to occur, and your families had only just completed their negotiations. The party gave you and your parents the opportunity to see what the Hodge family was like up close; although it didn’t weigh very much in terms of what was already decided. You were told that you were extremely fortunate to be chosen for their beloved son. There was a line a mile long to even be considered for him, but you were the kindest and the purest of them all —it could only be you.

So you were going to put on a big smile and spend the evening rubbing elbows with the high class folks Gilmore’s family socialized with, because it was your responsibility.

The main thing that had you actually excited about going to the party was that you knew your wonderful old friend Bucky Barnes would be making an appearance. Throughout the years you had kept in touch through letters, and he recently wrote to you letting you know that he’d be there; saying he knew Gilmore from his time in the service, and that he was looking forward to seeing you.

As a kid you always had the biggest crush on the guy because he was so effortlessly charming yet still adorably nerdy, the perfect combination. He was a constant in your life, and you weren’t willing to give him up, so regular letters helped keep you tethered together despite the distance. Somehow through every candid letter you felt yourself grow closer to Bucky, even closer than you were when he was still back home. His honesty, his vulnerability, his hope to see you again — it made you cherish him all the more.

Your mother knew about your elation over seeing him, especially given his valiant return from the war as well, but she urged you to be coy and downplay your enthusiasm. She didn’t want you to upset anyone in a way that could thwart her plans for your future.

Bucky had a good reputation growing up, and your parents took no issue with you having him as a friend. But that’s all it was ever allowed to be.

While you secretly wished for a different reality, you couldn’t help but feel euphoric about at least getting to spend some time with Bucky, the sweet guy you always wished your parents took an interest in. Nevertheless, it couldn’t happen, he didn’t come from enough according to your father. It didn’t matter that he was smart, and kind, and everything you ever wanted.

None of it mattered. Bucky would deploy again soon, so you had to have a memorable last night in his company. You didn’t understand how returning to the war worked, but that’s what he wrote in his last letter. The two of you would only have this one night to see each other.

Upon arrival at the party you made your greetings with the Hodge family, graciously speaking to them and then eventually Gilmore, who already had a couple girls vying for his attention. He was polite, but cared far more about returning to his little raving fan club. You couldn’t blame them, not everyone knew about your arrangement and he did look nice in his uniform. The snub stung a little, but you figured things would be different once you were married.

Sitting with your mother by a warm roaring fireplace, you spoke to some other women that had arrived with their families. Chatter was lively, with beautiful jazz ballads drifting throughout the grand property; setting the ambience just right. There was a good reason everyone wanted to attend this party, the food was delicious, the decorations along with the christmas tree extravagant, and the company among the best known in Brooklyn.

Your body buzzed with excitement and anticipation, knowing that any minute Bucky would arrive. Trying to stay calm, you focused on socializing to distract yourself, but it didn’t help. It had been so long since you’d seen him, your heart didn’t know how to play it cool.

However, all that anxiety dissipated the moment he stepped in the room, his eyes immediately finding yours; you felt yourself and the energy calm around you — it was only you and him.

Minding your manners you gave him a cordial nod before excusing yourself and seeking out a more quiet place to greet him. You smiled politely at the guests you passed as you made your way towards a quiet secluded hallway, all the while knowing you wouldn’t be alone for long.

Bucky smirked, stepping into the empty corridor, away from prying eyes and the loud music. “Didn’t want to talk to me out there with everyone else, doll?”

Finally seeing him for the first time in years, you dropped your proper facade and threw your arms around his neck, clinging to him. “Didn’t want to share is all,” you breathed, squeezing him tight. He held onto you with equal ardor, before you finally pulled back to get a good look at him.

You’d only known from his letter that he’d make an appearance at the party, you hadn’t heard his voice or seen him in the flesh for far too long. He still looked like the sweet boy you always adored, but something about him seemed different. His aura didn’t feel as light as you once remembered it to be, but perhaps you were imagining things. Given all that he’d been through you could understand if some things changed.

But then he spoke and you remembered that he was still your Bucky.

“I missed you so much,” he cupped the sides of your face and smiled broadly. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful, doll. Didn’t know that was possible.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his kind words. Shaking your head you smiled shyly before taking him in some more. He looked so handsome in his dress uniform, a touch more mature and muscular too — but still your Bucky. “How have you been?” you beamed.

“I’m alright, happy I get to see you,” he trailed his fingers down your arms before finally holding your hands in his.

“Can you stay long?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I have to get back and get ready to ship out bright and early tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you breathed, disappointment running across your features before you remembered to put on a brave face. If time was that limited then you’d make sure every moment was a positive one.

He brought up a hand and traced his thumb over your cheekbone softly, dark blue eyes admiring you. “Glad I got to see you and say goodbye,” he gave you a small smile before stepping back and putting his hands behind his back, subtly distancing himself from you. He couldn’t get too close, he knew about the arrangement you had with Gilmore.

You furrowed your brows at his stiffness, things weren’t like this before. “We’ve barely even caught up, what’s the rush? Who knows how long it’ll be this time.” Or if he’d even return.

“I can’t, doll.” Bucky knew he shouldn’t be alone with you, yet he also knew for certain that he couldn’t go on knowing that soon you’d belong to someone else.

“C’mon Sarge, you’ve gotta give me something to remember you by,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I can think of one thing that I could give you before some USO girl gets her hands on you,” you grabbed his hand and led him down a quiet hallway. Mrs. Hodge had given you the grand tour, and you knew your way around already. Her attention to detail with decorations throughout the home was commendable, just as her hospitality.

“What is it?” he smirked, disregarding the quip. The USO girl’s always paled in comparison to you. There wouldn't be another, there would only be you.

You tilted your head up at the mistletoe tied with a red bow hanging above the door you’d tugged him towards before meeting his gaze.

Bucky peeked up before shaking his head at you with a mischievous smile. You weren’t making this easy, so he finally committed to his decision. He’d been tinkering with holding back, but there you were under the soft light, looking so gorgeous in your white chiffon dress. If he could only have this one night with you, he was going to take advantage of it. Stepping towards you, his hand loosely cupped the side of your face, before he leaned in close. “I can think of something more memorable than this, doll. But it’ll do for now,” he breathed against your lips.

Your heart fluttered in your chest when his warm lips met yours. Certain and deliberate, making you gasp at his confidence. The grip on your face tightened before his lips parted, and suddenly his tongue was sliding along yours, expertly exploring your mouth. No man had ever kissed you like that. No fumbling or hesitancy, only desire in his actions.

A soft moan slipped past your lips, breaking you out of the impassioned trance you’d fallen under with Bucky, reminding you that you were at a lively Christmas party. If someone had stumbled over and seen that little display of public affection they would inevitably gossip about you; leading to major consequences if your parents or worse, if the Hodge’s heard about it.

“I have to go,” you whispered, stepping towards him to get away.

“Why?” his hands found your waist, keeping you trussed up against the door.

Your fingertips rose to touch your lips, still tingling because of him. “Bucky, they can’t see us like that. It– it was a bad idea.” You’d never been kissed with such passion and it made you feel things. Things you knew you shouldn’t for a man you weren't promised to — even if he was the only man you ever wanted a future with.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Bucky.”

“What happened to ‘Sarge’?” He raised an eyebrow, his hands slowly wrapping around your body. “Thought you might give me an order or two, using my rank and all,” he grinned.

You couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You know we shouldn’t, you know I’m–“

“I know about the arrangement, doll. I know that soon you’ll be married. But I also know that I’m leaving tomorrow and I might not make it back,” he looked at you solemnly.

“Oh, Bucky,” you frowned. “I know. I wish I knew what to say. Is there any way I can make this last night a good one for you?” you asked with hopeful eyes.

His eyes darkened, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I can think of a few ways.”

“Like what?” you tilted your head.

“We can start with you giving me an order,” he quirked an eyebrow.

Taking a quick peek around to make sure you were alone, you placed your arms around his neck once you ensured the coast was clear. “Are you good at taking orders, Sarge?” you asked sweetly. Maybe you could get him to give you a couple more of those kisses that made you tingle.

“Wanna find out?” he nodded towards the door.

“You wanna go in there?” your eyes darted around. You’d never been in this kind of situation, unsupervised no less. It was unlikely anyone would notice you were missing for long, but the uncertainty of what might happen if you were alone with him made you nervous.

He shrugged with a lopsided grin, it’d have to do for now. You deserved far better than a rushed hookup, and one day he’d give it to you. But on this special night in your company, he had to improvise.

Biting your lip, you nodded your head before turning around as he opened the door into the small room.

“This can be our little secret,” he suggested as he followed in after you.

Secrets were good, no one had to know, this would be okay.

Butterflies were in your stomach, your heartbeat erratically thumping in your chest, but then his familiar blue eyes were on you, and your apprehension slowly melted away. You trusted him with your life, you always could, and if tonight was the last night you had with him, then it ought to be an unforgettable one.

“I’d like that,” you hesitantly tugged at his lapel, bringing his lips back to yours. His hands drifted down your body, tightening the hold as they finally settled on your hips. The chatter down the hall, the music drifting through the house, it all faded away. Tongues tangled, bodies pressing up against one another. Nothing but the present moment filled your senses; a moment years in the making. It was always supposed to be Bucky, at least for the first time.

Bucky sure knew how to kiss a girl speechless. When his hands drifted around and a little lower, you were too caught up to protest, not that you really would anyways. Swiftly he tugged you even closer, hands possessively on your ass, his hardened length pressed against your torso.

The sudden shock of it all made you gasp against his lips. This was wrong, and deep down you knew that. But you’d never been embraced like this, never felt wanted in this way, and surely letting him have his way with you would give you both something to remember once he was gone. This was all you’d ever have with Bucky, may as well make the most of it.

When his lips trailed down your throat, when his hands deftly unzipped your dress and when he undid your bra, you couldn’t utter a protest. As your dress pooled at your feet you felt embarrassed for a moment, wanting to cover up; that was until you saw the way Bucky looked at you. Longing paired with a pleased grin on his lips.

You wanted to make him feel good, if only once.

“You sure are gorgeous, doll,” he groaned, tracing his lips down your neck, dipping his tongue over your breast. “Sure wanna make you mine,” he whispered before latching onto your nipple.

“Please,” you whined, pleasure rushing to your core in an unfamiliar way simply by his touch. You weren’t really sure what you wanted, you only knew that you needed him to give it to you. Threading a hand through his hair, you held him close as he lavished your breasts with his warm lips.

With his eyes steadily fixated on yours he stood to his full height, unbuttoned his jacket and slowly sank to his knees.

“Do you mean it?” He gently kissed up your thighs.

You didn’t know what he was asking, but in that moment there was only one answer to any question. “Yes,” you whispered.

Bucky leaned toward your clothed core, hands wrapping around your thighs. “Say you want me to make you mine, doll.”

The smallest touch sent shivers down your spine, the way his large hands felt against your skin, the way his warm breath felt through your thin panties. You were his to do as he pleased.

“Make me yours, Buck–” you gasped as he tore through the fine material of your underwear. Heat immediately rushing to your cheeks. His tongue slipping between your wet folds. He thought he wanted one night without having to give or take any serious orders. Although this was one he was happy to oblige. He’d gladly make you his, entirely his.

“Oh, god,” you cried, arching against his mouth. Him and his soft, warm tongue were going to be the end of you.

His tongue gently stroked up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, before two fingers suddenly slid inside your tight hole. This was so foreign, and so wrong, yet you couldn’t find the words to make him stop; because they didn’t exist in your mind, and you didn’t want him to.

He fucked you with his fingers, building slow to start then alternating with his tongue. Your mind was in a haze, you couldn’t fathom how Bucky knew how to do this. But there he was, looking up at you, continuing his sweet torture with a possessed look in his eyes.

He wanted to watch you fall apart, he needed to be the first to see that. Your innocence was something he desperately wanted to sully and he’d thought about it more often than he’d care to admit. Getting the chance to ruin you. Some nights it was the only thing that gave him the determination to make it back home.

Your mouth fell open when he picked up his pace, moving more roughly, and you couldn’t stifle the cry that slipped past your lips.

“Might wanna keep it down, wouldn’t want word to get back to your boyfriend now do ya, doll?” he groaned against your pussy, returning to his task, lips latching onto your aching bud while his fingers pumped into you.

“He’s not my boyf–” you sharply inhaled as he harshly sucked your clit. Throwing your head back, you moaned as you felt your pulse throb through your body. Heat washed over you as Bucky worked you through your orgasm. The sight of you falling apart above him was an image he would never forget. He’d caused that, and he needed to see it again.

Before you could make a sound again he was up and his mouth was back on yours, swallowing your moans as he slowly finished you off with his fingers.

“You sure are a beautiful thing,” he rasped, grabbing the back of your neck as he kissed you ardently. Through hazy eyes you watched as he finally pulled his soaked fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean.

“Bucky,” you whimpered. “We should– it’s probably time that we head ba–”

“Can I make love to you, doll?” His mouth cut you off, a tender kiss that let you taste your arousal on his lips. Heady and intoxicating.

“Please?” he pleaded. “I might never get the chance, and well — you know how I feel about you.”

Through countless letters and years of memories, you truly knew exactly how he felt about you.

The least you could do was give your dear friend this final gift. He came back from the violent war once, and the odds of him finding that luck again would be even more slim. He deserved everything you had to offer.

“Okay,” you nodded your head. “Please be gentle.”

“Is that an order?” he teased, smiling softly. Grabbing your hand he led you to the small bed in the corner of the room. “I’ll take care of you, promise.” Bucky swiftly undressed leaving him in just his dog tags, his eyes glazed with lust as they took in your body. This was real, you were there, you were his.

Your eyes roamed over his broad chest, his chiseled abs, but then you stuttered a breath when you saw his hard thick cock. Oh god. It wouldn’t fit, there was no way.

Before you could protest, his hypnotic blue eyes locked with yours, and you were under his spell. Your eyes lingered on each other's as the air became electric. He could do whatever he wanted, you trusted him.

“Just relax,” he whispered. Laying you down, he softly peppered your neck with kisses as his fingers ran through your folds. You were plenty wet, but he didn’t want to hurt you. Mesmerized by the way you looked up at him so wide-eyed and beautiful, his eyes searched yours as he tried to ease his way into you, but he was met with resistance.

“Take a deep breath, doll.” Circling his hips he worked on loosening you up, while you focused on your breathing, and then he slowly slipped further into your tight pussy. A groan escaped his lips once he finally bottomed out inside of you. Fucking exquisite.

The intense pressure in your core was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, the feeling so different you didn’t know how to comprehend it. But there was no time to think, because suddenly Bucky was making love to you with gradual measured pumps. The sensation felt overwhelming yet more addicting with each passing moment. Your mouth fell open, and you opened your legs wider, experimentally trying to match his thrusts with your hips — that made it feel even better. He was so deep, so thick, you felt every inch of him as he moved in and out of you.

He treated you with reverence, but with each stroke you felt yourself grow needier. Burning desire like a fire slowly building up in your belly. “H-harder,” you breathed, slapping a hand over your mouth before another moan could escape.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky mumbled, picking up his pace. That was another order he’d dutifully obey. He grabbed your knee and bent it up, hitting you hard in a spot that had you seeing stars.

“S’ good, Buck,” you blubbered. No wonder this was a sin, nothing moral or right could ever feel this good.

Bucky’s breath stuttered as he watched you; lust-blown pupils and messy lipstick, his pretty innocent girl utterly debauched all thanks to him. He captured the moment in his mind, burning it in his memory. Worshiping you, devouring you, ravaging the woman he dreamed so many nights about. He could never forget this.

Tender lovemaking quickly turned brutal as he rutted into you roughly over and over, his face buried in your neck to quiet his own moans.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you let him get lost in pleasure; he was loving it, and you were grateful you could give this to him. Warmth started to rise up your body again, the coil in your belly tightening with each sharp thrust.

“I wanna know what you feel like when you come around me, doll. I need it,” he groaned, pressing his lips to yours while his fingers swirled your needy bud. And like an order your body spasmed at his command. Bucky quickly placed a hand over your mouth to silence the sound you were on the cusp of letting out.

Even though you knew this was improper, morality didn’t deter the way you responded to his strong thrusts, shuddering hard as waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Bucky,” you mumbled, suddenly frantic with fear over what you’d done. He removed his hand and kissed you, silently reassuring you that this was good. He was right for you, just as you undoubtedly were right for him.

“Shh it’s okay, sugar. I’m here.” He muttered your name as he came, relishing in the way your wet walls rippled around him. Everything he could have ever wanted. In the house of the man you were planning to marry, he felt bliss, love, and euphoria as he poured himself inside of you.

Collapsing beside you, he calmed his breathing as you did the same. Both of you trying to process what this meant. You hoped this was enough for him, you gave him every bit of yourself, every last piece. Surely it had to be.

But in his mind this was only the beginning.

“I’m going to miss you, Bucky,” you laid your head on his chest, finally back down from your high.

He gently stroked your face with the back of his hand. “Oh don’t worry about that, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

You furrowed your brows and propped yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. “What do you mean?”

He placed his hand around the back of your neck. “You’re mine now, I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to tell your father that Gilmore's out, and I’m in.”

“Bucky, I can’t do that,” you shook your head with a soft smile. “That’s who my parents have chosen for me.” Sadly, it wasn’t up for debate.

“You’re going to tell them it's me, or I’m going to tell them what we did. All the things you let me do, how much you loved it,” he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Now you wouldn't want that, would you?”

No, he wouldn’t. If anyone knew about this your reputation would be ruined, your family would be destroyed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was not the man you always adored.

“You lied to me.” The ugly realization that your fate was unwittingly sealed fully dawned on you.

He didn’t bother trying to deny it. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to take good care of you, I promise,” he smiled. “Get dressed, we have a tough conversation to attend to.”

“Bucky, I–”

“You trust me don’t you?” He tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his dark gaze.

Not anymore. Hesitantly, you nodded your head. There was nothing more you could do.

He gave you a saccharine smile. “You told me to make you mine, and that’s what I did. Now c’mon we have a beautiful future to begin, and maybe we can fit in a dance before I take you home; well what will be your home for a short while longer,” he chuckled.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wordlessly retrieved and redressed yourself in the wrinkled garments strewn across the room. Disgust overcame you, tarnishing the emotions behind what you thought would be a beautiful memory you’d always cherish.

Turns out your best friend wasn’t deploying and you belonged to him now. By some miracle, or more accurately some misfortune, he made it back home — and you were the reward for all his hard work. The violence and destruction he witnessed and took part in changed him, more than you could tell at first glance.

You thought offering him your innocence before redeployment would be a sweet consolation prize. Never did you imagine your new reality, becoming Sergeant Barnes’ most prized possession.

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 5 months

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Slipping Through my Fingers (2)

Summary: When a married woman catches the eye of Bucky Barnes, he is determined to stop at nothing to get to know her better.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Summer 1941

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Steve groaned, massaging the sleep from his eyes. He had always been an early riser, so without checking the time, he knew it had to be before sunrise. The knocking became more insistent. Steve would have worried about the noise angering his neighbors had he not thought the person on the other side of the door was in danger. Shoving the thin sheet to his feet, Steve raced to the door. His drowsy state was long gone, adrenaline taking over. The second Steve opened the door, his eyes rolled, taking whatever adrenaline he had built up with them.

“You can't keep randomly showing up here whenever you think Y/N is going to drop by,” Steve complained.

Pillow in hand, Bucky pushed past his shorter friend, entering Steve’s space. The younger man sighed, shutting the door behind him. It had been nearly a year since Bucky met Y/N. Despite his claim to be friends that day, Bucky hardly saw her. Annoyed with Bucky’s constant nagging, Steve accidentally let it slip that her husband was shipped overseas during the colder months. He only had himself to blame for his best friend showing up at all hours of the day.

Bucky fluffed his pillow, tossing it on the worn-in couch across from the door. “Yeah, but this time, I have it on good authority that she will be here,” Bucky casually defended his invasion. Lying on the couch with his arms propped behind his head, he smiled at Steve who was leaning his back against the door. It was the perfect spot to watch the door if she showed up.

Steve crossed his arms, watching his friend get comfortable in his home. If there was one word Steve could use to describe Bucky, it was dedicated. Pushing himself off the door with a backward kick, Steve crossed the room. Stopping at the end of the couch, he asked, “How do you know?”

Bucky’s smile turned into a devilish grin. “I checked your cabinets last time I was here. You’re due for a refill on your medication.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn’t surprised. Bucky always looked after him. If Y/N didn’t bring his medicine, he knew Bucky would find a way to get it.

“Well, if you’re gonna be a watchdog in my home, I expect breakfast when I wake up,” Steve teased, heading the short distance to his bedroom.

When Bucky woke that morning, he started on breakfast. With the war on the rise, prices had been on a steady increase with no signs of stopping anytime soon. Regardless, Steve needed all of the protein he could get. Bucky decided he would work a double shift and replace the eggs he was cooking.

Bucky frowned as he nearly finished breakfast. Steve’s home was small enough to hear any noise inside the house. Steve had yet to make a sound from his bedroom and the thought startled Bucky. Sure, Steve was low on medicine, but he wasn’t empty. Setting the pan on the unlit stove, Bucky stalked toward the bedroom stopping in his tracks when the blonde’s laughter sounded in the opposite direction.

Yanking the front door open, Bucky’s lips parted. Standing next to his best friend was the very woman he had been dreaming of for the past year. Both sets of eyes on the other side of the door were wide, staring back at Bucky. One hand held the door handle; the other caressed the back of his neck as he spoke, “I uh, thought you were still sleeping.”

Steve shrugged. “I woke up early. Walked to get a paper.” He waved the newspaper in his hand. “I ran into Y/N on the way back.” He then waved the brown paper bag filled with his medication in his other hand. He turned to Y/N. “You remember Bucky don’t you.”

Her eyes skimmed Bucky from head to toe before meeting his gaze. “The baseball player, of course. Nice to see you again, Bucky.”

The brunette’s chest puffed up, satisfied she had remembered his performance. Before he could respond, Steve spoke, “Bucky’s just made us breakfast, you’ll join us, won’t you?”

Surprise crossed Y/N’s face. “Oh, I don’t know. I have a lot of things to do.”

“You still have to eat,” Bucky insisted, but he knew she wasn’t convinced. Bucky stepped outside, still towering over the two, but closer. “Look, the truth is, Steve’s not all that great at keeping the conversation going in the morning. He gets crabby in the heat. Sasses me around to the point where he’s got me cooking him breakfast in his home. I'm a hostage here, doll. You’d be doing me a big favor staying for breakfast. He remembers his manners around a pretty face.”

Y/N blushed, staring down at her feet. Had she been staring at either man, she would have noticed the intense stare-off going on, a silent argument.

“I’ll stay, but I really have to leave after we eat.”

Bucky grinned, stepping aside. His left hand extended to the open front door, his right hand froze palm up, an invitation to help Y/N up the small step into the house. She accepted it, missing the tongue Bucky poked out at Steve behind her back.

“No funny business, Buck. I mean it. She’s still married.” Steve warned lowly.

Without saying a word, Bucky waltzed into the house, pulling out a chair for Y/N.

“Oh, thank you,” she squeaked.

Bucky smiled, rushing to plate the food.

Steve deposited his medication in the bathroom cabinet before finding Y/N. Steve slumped into the chair beside her, wasting no time to catch up with his friend. He was also interested in learning about the war overseas. “How’s Harry?”

Her hands folded in her lap. “He’s about as good as any soldier preparing for a war, but he’s right where he wants to be. He’s doing the right thing. He’s protecting his country. Us.”

Her vacant stare told Steve she didn’t believe that. He wondered how much time she spent curating an answer to that question.

Bucky snorted, setting the plates down on the table. “Sounds like a fool to me.” He couldn’t keep the comment from slipping from his lips as he sat across from the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. He couldn’t comprehend how a man could willingly leave his new wife behind, especially alone. A yelp escaped Bucky bringing him back to the conversation. Steve’s glare was enough to know who had kicked him. Ignoring Steve, Bucky explained, “All I’m saying is, a man’s duty is to his wife first. Ya’ know? If I was married to someone as gorgeous as you, they’d have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming before I left my wife behind.”

Y/N wanted to scream. She wished Harry felt the way Bucky did.

Noticing Y/N’s fork had been playing with her food, Steve asked, “Are you okay? With Harry being gone this long?” He was genuinely concerned for the woman. He knew what it was like to be alone. He didn’t have any family, and he could count all of his friends by the number of seats occupied at his dinner table. Even when he had no one, he had Bucky.

She sent Steve a soft smile. “I manage. We write to each other, but it can take weeks, sometimes months to get a response. I started to keep a copy of the letters I’ve sent him just so I can remember what we talked about.” Now that she was saying it out loud, she realized how lonely it sounded, how lonely she was. “The girls at the volunteer center are kind, but there’s a lot going on. A lot of people need medicine, and with the war heading this way, resources are going to be harder to get.” She eyes Steve warily. She prayed it wouldn’t come down to that. “We’re all so busy, there isn’t much time to talk. I miss having someone to greet at home.” Her longing stare didn’t go unnoticed by either man.

Steve chewed slowly as the gears turned in his head. Bucky on the other hand was quick to respond. “What about taking care of the house?”

Y/N brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Harry makes sure the bills are paid every month. The neighbor's boy comes by sometimes and gives me a hand around the house, but he’s heading to his grandparents’ house for the summer. I was actually hoping to catch him today before he leaves.”

“Let the kid have his summer. I’ll help you.” Bucky offered, taking the last bite of his eggs.

Y/N cracked a smile in between bites of her food. “Are you sure? I missed the usual spring cleaning. It’s a lot of work. Surely, you’d rather spend your summer playing baseball or hanging out with Steve.”

“And leave a dame to clean her house alone? Absolutely not.” He pointed his fork at her. “You know you have to move the furniture to actually clean, you can’t just clean around it.”

She chuckled, “I’m well aware that you have to move the furniture.”

Bucky grinned leaning forward. “Well believe me when I say I’ll be much more help than a kid.”

He playfully flexed his bicep. “I’m also great company.”

Steve rolled his eyes hard. “You’re also a pain in the-”

“Wow,” Bucky held his hands up. “Forgetting your manners already, Steve?”

“I was going to say neck, but now I’m thinking something else,” Steve grumbled.

Y/N smirked at the banter. “Okay, Bucky. I accept your offer.”

Bucky lost count of how long he had been visiting Y/N. Some days they cleaned, just as Bucky had offered. Other days they became too distracted, laughing over lunch, sometimes even dinner. Those were Bucky’s favorite days. Not that he minded cleaning; he just enjoyed her. Cleaning left too many distractions and talking to Y/N allowed him to focus on her and only her.

Bucky huffed, slamming a cardboard box on the floor. Using the end of his once-white t-shirt, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He had spent most of the afternoon bringing boxes up and down from the attic. It was nearly lunchtime, and he was exhausted. When the shirt slipped from his fingers, he panted, his hands finding a home on his slim hips. His eyes trailed along the window beside him where Y/N stood on the other side staring back at him. Bucky smirked, waving a single hand. She returned his wave with a bright smile. Her other hand clutched an envelope to her chest. Her feet then slammed on the concrete steps as she raced into the house as if she were a child returning home from school to catch the latest program on the radio. Bucky not so gently, despite his best efforts, shut the attic door just in time. Y/N swiftly pushed past him, nearly knocking him on his rear.

“What’s got you all excited?” Bucky asked with a teasing tone. He couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow as she slammed her hands on the kitchen table.

“I’ve got a letter from Harry!”

Her nimble fingers made quick work at tearing the letter open, but before she could get far, a large hand covered her own. Y/N’s eyes shot to the man standing beside her, ready to give him a piece of her mind. Bucky retracted his hand with a chuckle, revealing a sleek letter opener in his other hand.

“Wouldn’t want to give yourself a papercut. Those things can be nasty.”

Y/N gently took the letter opener from his grasp with a sharp nod. She could feel Bucky’s presence hovering over her shoulder, but she didn’t dwell on it. It’s not every day someone receives a letter from someone overseas. Chalking it up to curiosity, she sliced the letter open.

Bucky grimaced as he watched her eyes scan the letter. Steve was right, she did seem happily married, in love even, but he willingly left her behind. He left her alone. That wasn’t love.

Pinched between her manicured fingers alongside the letter was a black and white photograph. Y/N smiled, showing the photograph to Bucky. “This is Harry.” Bucky studied the man in the picture as Y/N observed Bucky. “I wish you two had met before he left. I think the two of you would have gotten along well.”

Bucky snorted, glaring daggers at the other man’s picture. “Oh yeah, how’s that doll?”

Y/N twirled away from him, reaching for a pen to write her husband back. “I just know.” She sat at the table pen in hand, but her response wasn’t good enough for the brunette. The table pressed into the back of his thighs as he slammed his spread palm on top of the paper.

He peered down at her beside him. “You think or you know?”

Y/N’s forehead creased, her hands attempting to pluck Bucky’s hand off the parchment. “You just remind me of him sometimes. Now can I write to my husband?” Bucky eyed her for a moment, analyzing her words. Silently, he pushed off the table allowing her some privacy.

He found himself wandering to the last box he had brought down from the attic. If she was busy, he’d entertain himself. He dragged the box along the wooden floor into the kitchen. Y/N perked up at the sound of the cardboard grinding against the wood. Bucky could feel her eyes on him as he slumped into the chair across from her, but remained occupied popping the flaps of the box open. Shaking her head, Y/N returned her attention to the letter before her as Bucky rummaged through the box. She didn’t mind. He had gone through nearly all of her stuff at this point.

“You’re a photographer?” he asked, waving a camera around.

Y/N shook her head. “It was a wedding gift. Harry used it mostly. Do you take pictures?”

Bucky nodded. “Occasionally. My parents had one.” He pointed the camera at Y/N. “Steve was the artist, but technology was always fascinating to me. I’m better at pressing buttons.”

Y/N palmed the lens, hiding her face. He was skilled in pressing more buttons than the ones on a camera. Bucky pulled the camera back. Y/N wrinkled her nose. “Harry was always taking pictures of me. Not you too,” she whined.

Bucky laughed, setting the camera on the table. “Anyone with a camera would want to capture your beauty. They’d have to be blind not to.”

Y/N felt heat crawl up her neck at the compliment. Rather than replying, she dipped her head back to the letter she had yet to write. Before the pen could touch the sheet, Bucky let out a low whistle. Her interest shifted back to the man across from her as he pulled a dress from the box. It wasn’t an everyday dress like the ones he’d seen Y/N wearing.

“That’s for dancing,” Y/N offered.

Bucky hummed. “Your husband takes you dancing?”

Y/N twirled the pen in her hand. “He used to.” She paused. “Do you dance Bucky?”

A wolfish grin spread along his face. “You want to find out?” When Y/N didn’t respond, Bucky whispered, “Put on the dress.”

Y/N gasped, the pen slipping from her fingers. “Bucky I-”

Setting the dress on the table between them, he leaned forward. His voice laced with honey, “Let me take you dancing.”

Caught in the sticky sweetness of his voice, Y/N’s own was shaky, “Harry.”

Bucky frowned. “You’re always busy, always volunteering, bringing Steve his medicine, or taking care of the house. When was the last time you did something for yourself? You can’t stop living your life just because Harry isn’t around.”

With a shake of her head, she wanted to protest, but what was she protesting? A dance? A night out with a friend? Fun?

Sensing her hesitation, Bucky added, “It’s just dancing, doll. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Okay.”

Bucky would have leaped out of his chair if she hadn’t been watching him. He flashed her one of his charming smiles, poking the dress. “But you have to wear this dress.”

Releasing a shaky breath, she replied, “You better be a damn good dancer, James Barnes.”

“You’re taking her dancing?” Steve exclaimed, choking on his milkshake.

Bucky passed him a napkin pinched between his index and middle finger. When Steve gathered himself, Bucky rationalized, “It’s just dancing. No need to get your feathers ruffled.”

Dancing was never just dancing when it came to Bucky. Steve watched as Bucky swept a new woman off her feet while dancing night after night. It didn’t help that his friend was charming. Young or old, it didn’t matter. They all swooned after James Barnes. Steve doubted Y/N would be the exception.

“I know you Bucky. It’s never just dancing.”

Bucky snorted, grabbing a fist full of frenchfries from the basket between them. “Y/N’s different.”

“She is. She’s married. She’s also my only other friend. If you ruin her marriage, I won't have a friend left.” Steve’s mouth was set in a hard line.

The threat in Steve’s tone was loud and clear. Still, Bucky refused to back down. With a hand over his heart, he asked, “What if I’m different?”

Steve let out a loud laugh. “You’re my friend, Buck. I won’t lie to you to stroke your ego.”

Bucky sipped his milkshake with a shrug. “So come with us and see for yourself.”

“You’re inviting me to third wheel on your date? You are different. Maybe I should ask a dame out and see if I’ve changed too,” Steve sassed.

“Come or don’t, it won’t make a difference. It never did before.” It was a low blow, but Bucky was tired of Steve’s lack of faith in him. Just because Steve struggled when it came to the opposite sex, didn’t make Bucky a womanizer. He liked Y/N. She just happened to be married.

The weekend came too soon for Y/N. She hadn’t been dancing since Harry was home. It felt strange to get dressed up to dance with another man. She hadn’t danced with a man since Harry. She pondered if he was dancing with the women overseas. Her eyes drifted to the photograph lodged in the side of the mirror on her dresser.

“Y/N?”

Y/N hurriedly emerged from her bedroom and made her way to the living room where Bucky was waiting. He looked dashing in his well-tailored suit and his hair was neatly slicked back. Despite being a married woman, Y/N couldn't help but notice Bucky's striking good looks. She couldn't deny the fact that he was an attractive man.

“Well, don't you clean up nice,” she teased.

Bucky smirked, circling a pointed finger. “Give me a spin. I wanna get a good look at this dress you kept hidden away.”

Y/N whirled around, her skirt fluffing out in the process. When she stopped facing Bucky, he shook his head. Grasping her hand to turn her slowly. When he let go, he released an appreciative sigh. “Looks even better on you.”

Y/N’s hands fumbled with the skirt as she avoided Bucky’s eyes. Noticing her embarrassment, Bucky announced, “Steve is picking up a date. They’re going to meet us there.”

“Oh.” The surprise in her voice was evident. It was just dancing, she reminded herself. Steve wouldn’t be joining them if it was a date. Steve had a date though. Y/N’s mind whirled wondering if she had unknowingly agreed to a date. “I didn’t know Steve dated.”

Bucky led Y/N onto the street where they walked side by side to the dance hall down the street. He didn’t want to embarrass Steve in front of Y/N. He had found Steve a date, but Y/N didn’t need to know that. “Steve doesn’t mind dancing with a pretty face after a long week. Can’t find a man around who would complain about that.”

A laugh escaped Y/N. She knew his statement to be true after many nights dancing with Harry. It didn’t matter if she arrived with a gentleman, they all wanted to dance.

A poster in one of the shops caught her eye. Bucky slowed to a stop, allowing her time to look.

“She’s gorgeous,” Y/N breathed.

Bucky eyed the scantily clad pin-up model. He enjoyed the image as much as the next guy, but he wouldn't express that to the woman he was pursuing. So, he did the only other thing he could think of, he rationalized it. “They’re putting all kinds of pictures up like this. Men have been buying them up like crazy before joining the war.”

Y/N flinched; her eyes trained on the model. Did Harry buy one? She cocked her head, “Would you buy her picture, Bucky?”

He bit his lip, rapidly shaking his head, “Don’t need to. I’m going dancing with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N faced him with her hands on her hips. “Don’t give me that. I want an honest answer.”

Bucky made an imaginary cross with his pointer finger over his heart. “Honest, I swear.”

Y/N bit her lip peeking back at the model. “You really think I’m prettier than her?” If she was more attractive, then perhaps her husband hadn't bought the stranger's picture.

Bucky bent his knees and threw his head back dramatically. “Any man would kill to have a poster of you on their wall.” Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her toward the dance hall.

Bucky’s words danced around her head. If men were buying up pictures of a woman they’d only ever seen through a camera lens, then why couldn’t she send her husband one? He had sent her a picture of himself.

“Bucky,” Y/N called, catching his attention, “How good are you with a camera?”

Bucky shrugged, “Good enough. I used to-”

That was good enough for Y/N. She interrupted him, “I want you to take my picture.”

He side-eyed her, “You didn't want me taking your picture the other day.”

Y/N shook her head, pointing her finger to the poster behind them. “I want you to take my picture like that.”

Bucky almost tripped over his own feet. They stopped outside of the dance hall. Steve stood along the wall with a short redhead. One look at Steve and Bucky knew he had spotted them. Steve frantically waved them over, his date uninterested.

Bucky grabbed Y/N’s bicep as she inched toward Steve. “Hold on.” He didn’t question her motive, but he needed her to be sure. “Are you sure?”

Y/N grinned up at Bucky. “I thought you said any man would kill to have my picture on their wall?”

He did say that, but he hadn’t expected the outcome. “Yes, but-” A finger pressed to his lips silencing him.

“Let’s have a nice night and we’ll talk about it later. You have yet to prove you can dance.”

Bucky laced his hand with the hand she had pressed to his lips seconds ago. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Y/N and Bucky had a great night at the dance hall. Even though Steve’s date left with another man, he had fun as well. Bucky had been an exceptional dancer. Steve, not so much. He had stepped on Y/N’s feet all night, even when they weren’t dancing. Steve was a good sport and laughed it off.

Bucky hadn’t forgotten Y/N’s request before the dance and neither had Y/N. Over the week, Y/N explained she wanted to take pictures for her husband. By the end of the week, Bucky stood awkwardly in Y/N’s living room, camera in hand.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Bucky asked, “So, where do you want to do this?”

Y/N’s bare feet padded along the floor, leading Bucky to her bedroom. Taking in her robe-covered figure, Bucky cursed Harry for meeting her first.

Y/N plopped on the bed. “Is this good?”

Bucky bit his lip and sent her a nod. Y/N unknotted her robe letting it pool on the bed behind her. Bucky averted his eyes to check the film. “There's only enough film for 8 shots.”

“Do you want to take a test shot?” Y/N asked.

Wordlessly, he pointed the camera at her catching her off guard as he took the picture.

Y/N’s eyes widened as the flash went off, blinding her momentarily. She quickly regained her composure and scowled at Bucky. “You were supposed to tell me when you were ready,” she said, her frustration evident in her voice.

Bucky shrugged, “It was just a test shot. The camera still works.”

Y/N huffed falling back on her elbows. “You’re a guy, what should I do?”

Filthy thoughts invaded his head, but he pushed them away. “I don’t know. You’re already beautiful; the camera will pick it up. Just be yourself.”

Y/N kneeled on the bed to be level with Bucky. The flash went off. Y/N pouted. “I wasn’t ready.”

Bucky mentally disagreed. She trusted him to take her pictures. He hadn’t lied when he said she was beautiful. It was the candid shots that were alluring to him. Caught in action, turned the photo from a picture to a video. If Steve knew what he was doing, he would lose his mind.

Y/N crossed her legs, letting them dangle off the edge of the bed as she shoved the skirt of her silk nightgown to her ankles.

“Up.”

Y/N wavered, eyeing Bucky. “What?”

“Pull the nightgown up,” Bucky suggested.

Her hands hesitantly dragged the bottom of the nightgown up, exposing her calves. “Like this?” She peeked at Bucky when the skirt passed her knee.

Flash.

Bucky couldn’t deny the thrill that rushed through him. He had seen her legs plenty of times in dresses she wore, but there was something more intimate in her revealing her legs to him. The intimacy of the two of them alone in her bedroom only added fuel to the fire.

“What would you like to receive from your wife if you were in the war?”

Bucky shoved her bare shoulder gently, propelling her back to hit the mattress. The strap of her nightgown slipped. Her hand moved to fix it. Bucky hovered over her to grab her wrist. His large hand glided her hand between her breasts. “Leave it.”

Flash.

Y/N imagined the images would be lewder than the pin-up poster she saw, but she preened under Bucky’s attention. Maybe she was starved for attention since Harry left, but she did this for her husband. She just hoped Bucky was right and her husband would appreciate the photos.

Chapter 3

Taglist: @yeahright0h @buckysouvenir @cloudykoookie

#bucky x female reader #40s!bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #40s bucky x reader #40s!bucky #40s bucky

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winterarmyy · 9 months

Text

Until Then

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: A mission back in time brought Y/N to an unexpected encounter with the man she fell in love with.

Words: 2.3k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: melancholy-ish plot line with fluffy ending

Inspiration: "You still would've turn my head, even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944 and you were heading off to fight in the war" – Timeless (From the Vault) by Taylor Swift

Read my other works here: Masterlist

It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission. Y/N and Tony were sent back in time to 1944; one day before Captain America and the Howling Commandos deployed to their next mission at the Austrian Alps, in Europe.

The duo were supposed to retrieve some lost files regarding Hydra's hidden bunks and labs back in the days. After the fight with Thanos, there were rumours of the re-creation of Project Winter Soldier lead by an organization that once associated with Hydra. So, they need all the information they could get their hands on; including the ones that are lost decades ago.

Unfortunately for them SHIELD used to be shitty at storing physical files back in the days. To be fair they still do, especially now that technology had advanced. Every single information were at the tip of their fingers; from typical criminal records to the name of every single doctor and nurses who were present when the person was born.

They literally have everything. And nothing at the same time.

And honestly, the mission was quick as they predicted. Tony managed to scanned the needed files and some others that he thought would be important. He's extra like that too, which was a plus.

However quick the mission supposed to be, they barely make it though, especially when the guards were suspicious of Tony's apparently "hippie" beard. It was such a shame. So much for dressing up in 40's style. They kind of nailed the outfit and aesthetics, according to Steve anyway.

However, thankfully by the time they got out of the facility they managed fit right in with crowd. The wave of people lead the duo along its current, more and more people joined in to the point that they weren't able to find any quiet place to activate their time device.

"I thought we're still in WWII? Why is there fucking a parade in the middle of the day?" Tony being unapologetically sarcastic as always.

Y/N looked around as she observed, there was couple of people animatedly, albeit, excitedly exclaimed to the streak of success of Captain America and the Howling Commandos in the war.

A little to the right of them, were a group of children who were semi-cosplaying as Captain America and his dream team, passionately play-fighting with the enemies as if they were in a theater performance.

"I guess they're celebrating small wins. Steve and his team did have several successful raids since the battle at Azzano." It was in fact true; what Y/N speculated was exactly the very reason of the current occasion.

Tony simply shrugged as he stretched his neck higher to hopefully find the end the crowd, "Sure, just keep your eyes open for a place to time jump. I don't want to be stuck in the middle of another war." Y/N nodded as she looked around the sides, wondering if there's an empty alleyway that they could use.

The more sketchy looking it was, the better.

The crowd was chaotic with different mix of conversations and cheers; voices intertwining with one another, each sentences criss and crosses into indecipherable storyline. But even then, Y/N could recognized that breathy, slightly giggly laughter anywhere.

Especially when he brushed right by her.

Y/N was well aware of how madly in love she was with Bucky even with the coy cat-and-mouse game they were playing for months. She knew exactly the hold he had on her soul that at some point, she was conviced that he still would've turn her head in any lifetime.

But that idea was only supposed to be one of the secrets in her mind; the thoughts of a hopeless romantic that she was. Certainly, she didn't dreamt of the vision for it come true. But there she was, frozen on her spot when the time stood still on the crowded street in 1944; fortuitously crossing path with man she fell in love with.

There weren't any suitable explanation for this other than it was fate. In that short milliseconds, Y/N saw the resemblance of the sight to a memory of hers in the crowded room a few short years ago; his left arm slung around Steve's neck, letting his weight leaned on his super soldier friend as he let out a hearty laughter.

There were only slight difference from what she saw before and what she currently seeing; Bucky wore an all black suit at that party, now he's wearing his military uniform in a parade. Bucky was dead drunk on Asguardian mead that night, now he's as sober as a soldier deprived of liquor. Bucky's left hand was adorned with high-tech vibranium metal, now that very hand was still made of flesh and blood, still alive.

During that brief moment of revelation, she truly believed that they were supposed to find this.

Whatever this is supposed to be; Fate? Love? Both? She was not sure either.

She was so stuck on holding her gaze on his back as the young soldier walked a few steps away from her that she didn't notice how the people in the surge glared at her unmoving state or how she had been astray from Tony.

Well, at least it only lasted until someone bumped into her and she staggered backwards, inevitably fell on the ground.

Y/N groaned but quickly patted her pockets to find her time device was still there. I mean, she can never be sure if it was just an accident that she fell or someone intended to distract her while pick-pocketing her belongings.

Though other people would probably already stood on their feet but Y/N was still on the dusty road, as she was busy recollecting her mental state rather than her physical.

That was when a calloused hand reached out to her, offering a kind help.

She didn't think twice to take his hand, let alone looking up at his face when she gripped it tight enough to make a solid foundation to push herself against the gravity, "Oh dear me! Thank you so much, sir. I really..." She lost her momentum when she met the pale blue of his eyes, "...appreciate it." She ended the sentence breathlessly.

It's Bucky. Her brain tried to let her process the thought. It was not her Bucky but still... it's Bucky. Her eyes then fell to where their skin touched. Warm and gentle. His left hand felt the exact same as his right. It made her to cave in the urge to hold it a little longer, to savour the memory of what it could've been; not that she weren't fond of his vibranium arm but curiosity can be such a fickle thing.

Bucky smiled, "Glad to help, my lady." And oh dear does he smiled effortlessly, freely; as if he knew he deserved to feel joy in his life.

Even if she didn't want to, she had to let go of his hand after a few seconds too long of holding it when she was already up and ready to go. She returned his smile though her heart was barely tough enough to stop the spreading of its cracks, "Really, I can't thank you enough."

In reality, it was probably unnecessary to thank him that much for helping her to get back on her feet, but Y/N wasn't really thanking him just for that.

Unbeknownst to him, she was thanking him for not holding back a smile, for not overthinking about the things he might have done to draw a conclusion that he was undeserving have the luxury to smile, for unapologetically just living the life he supposed to have.

She thanked him for it.

Bucky chuckled amusingly as he slightly titled his head to the side. A charming pull on the corner of his lips revealed a smile that could swoon anyone on sight, especially her.

"Well, we're having a little party tonight before deploying to Europe tomorrow. So, maybe you can thank me by letting me bring you to the dance? How about that, doll?" She almost forgot that Steve was there next to him, until Bucky references the word "we".

And especially when his words might just pulled Y/N's heartstrings in ways that she could never thought someone could do. It was awfully slow, almost too delicate of a pull, but each inches of it pained her deeply.

If it was up to her, she would've said yes a million times over but she knew she can't. And the voice in her earpiece reminded her of it, "Y/N, we gotta go." Tony urged as he watched her from the corner of the street.

Y/N tried her best not let her facial expression flatter, "Unfortunately, I can't. I'm going back to my hometown today." It wasn't exactly a lie when she made that excuse.

"Ohh, I see. You're not from here, huh?" Bucky was very honest as his reaction clearly showed his disappointment. Though not at her, just at the situation.

Her brows briefly crunch into an apologizing plead before she boldly grabbed him by the collar of his uniform, slightly pulled him down to her level, while the other hand cupped one side of his face.

She tiptoed herself upwards as she pressed a firm yet sweet kiss on the smooth skin of his cheek and whispered against it, "But, I hope this would do."

Lost for words, heck, Bucky was lost for thoughts. What was left was his own heart thumping hard and loud that he bet Steve can hear it from where he was standing. His cheeks became warmer by the second and the redness spreads even to the tip of his ears.

Of course he had his cheek kissed before, but not like this. None of them felt like this. They were always too fast, too hasty.

Hers was different. It lingered a little longer, gently leaving her imprint on him. He can feel her grip on his collar, the stroke of her thumb on his cheek and of course the soft pressure of her lips on the other side of his face. He could everything so particularly.

Bucky was rendered speechless even after she pulled her lips away; it was too soon for his comfort. Eyes wide open, his lips slightly parted as he let himself lost in the pleasant surprise.

He thought she would parted herself and ran away feeling embarrassed, but she did the very opposite. Y/N lead his forehead to lean on hers, tip of their nose grazed, and her lips hovered above his.

So close, yet refused to merge with one another.

Y/N whispered quietly, as if she was talking to herself, "You'll be fine, James. You'll find home in the future. I promise."

Her voice trembled as Bucky just noticed how wet her eyes were becoming. With that amount of tears in them, he wondered if her sight were all blurry now.

Y/N took in a shaky breath before continuing, "You just need to survive the winter and trust me at the end of that season, you'll reach the sun again." Her thumbs softly traces his cheeks as she spoke.

Bucky didn't quite understand what she was saying but if he loosely translate it, it would mean that 'she believed that he'll be back soon after the war'. But then again, he felt like there were some major things that was missing from the context that he came up with.

Y/N's earpiece send another transmission of Tony's voice, "Okay, seriously. Come on, Juliette. Your other Romeo is waiting for you." She couldn't help but to smile as she closed her eyes, letting the excess tears fall down to her cheeks.

She didn't want to say goodbye, as she knew that this was not where their story ends, at least not his; that's for sure. So, she simply smiled up at him with a reassuring look in her eyes before stepping back. She then, briefly turned her attention to the dumbfounded Steve, gracing him with a similar smile before walking away.

It was just a few steps away when her hand was caught in between someone's, "Hey!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see Bucky; wide eye, blinking in disbelief and blushing red, all at the same time, "WiIl... Will I see you again?" He asked, though hesitant; wondering if he was being rude.

Compared to what she had done to him, he was just being too polite.

Y/N chuckled dearly, "Of course." Then she replied confidently, "I owe you a dance after all." Her lips parted into a cheeky grin.

Bucky let out a sharp relieved sigh as his lips mimic hers, "I'll look forward to it, doll." He slightly bowed as his hand pulled hers closer to his lips, "Until then." He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand as his gaze remained on hers.

Apparently, it was Y/N's turn to blush to his antics. She stepped back shyly as her cheeks brightens before scurring away. Maybe, Bucky was right with his prediction prior. She did ran away feeling embarrassed after all.

She jogged towards the next corner of the street, meeting up with Tony. The older might have eyeing her in a teasing manner, but his smirk was the biggest giveaway. Y/N simply rolled her eyes, even if her lips maintained its shape from the aftermath of her encounter with Bucky.

As they entered deeper into the alleyway, Tony spoke, "I gotta admit, young terminator was a hottie. Not hotter than me, of course." he claimed.

Y/N frowned, letting out a scoff, "What do you mean "was"? He still is." Call it bias, but at least she was telling the truth.

Tony shrugged, "Meh. Would argue to differ. But, whatever that floats your boat, I guess?" Tony sassed as they clicked on the time device at the same time, revealing a swirlling portal, in front of them.

Y/N quirked her brow, her hands on her hips, "You're just jealous that he aged like a fine fucking wine and you don't." She purposely challenged his ego.

Tony dramatically rolled his eyes, "Please. He wishes." He walked into portal with an attitude, making Y/N laughed at his childish acts.

She looked back at the alleyway one last time and reminisce the last moments of a past that she never belong in. As she walked into the portal, she thought that maybe, it's time to pay her debt to Bucky.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The start of bucky drabbles because why not. This is considered a drabble for me because i feel like there's lack of story building. But, you tell me. And did you enjoy it?

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #avenger!bucky #bucky drabbles

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rosepetalsinwinter · 1 year

Text

Look At Me — Bucky Barnes

Pairing: 40s!bucky x nurse!reader

Word count: 11,951

Summary: She never expected to fall so deeply for Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes, what with his skirt-chasing tendencies and cocky personality. Except how was she to know war would change everything she thought she wanted? Suddenly, she wanted him.

Warnings: angst, violence, WW2, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, death, torture, whump, HYDRA, post-serum Steve Rodgers, kissing, angst with happy ending. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Note: I got a little carried away... oops. Anyway, happy reading!

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"We'll set up camp here. The sun's getting low, and it's not safe to travel at night. We'll freeze to death if we try." James "Bucky" Barnes flung his pack to the ground and stretched his aching limbs over his head, sore from walking all day.

The infantry had left camp early that morning, just before dawn. They were to travel across the Eastern Italian border and meet the British battalion just south of Azzano. General McGinnis planned to march with a regiment of his own a week after news of the 107th's safe arrival reached camp.

"Should I start a fire, Sergeant?" Private Andrew Eaton asked, rubbing his hands together. The sun was setting, spreading a soft glow over the snow-ridden forest. "Warm us up?" His eyes flicked toward the girl, and she stiffened under his gaze.

She was a nurse, travelling with the soldiers because of her immaculate record. She had never lost a man before; one could be on the brink of death and would survive if she got her hands on them. Her expertise was unmatched and desperately needed on the Eastern Front, where the allies were losing men at an alarming rate.

Bucky shook his head. "We're too close to enemy lines. The smoke will draw attention, and we can't risk that."

Multiple eyes drifted to the nurse's shivering form, some filled with pity, others with concern. She had not once complained about the walk nor the temperature, but she was no soldier. Everyone knew her body was at risk of collapse; unaccustomed to the harsh terrain of the Dolomite Mountains, her back hunched with the weight of her pack, her eyes drooped with fatigue, cheeks crimson with cold and body trembling.

Mimicking Bucky, she, too, flung her bag on the frozen soil and dropped unceremoniously on it, finally giving in to her exhaustion.

"You sure about that, Sergeant Barnes?" Eaton questioned. The girl widened her eyes in alarm. It was one thing to hold the soldiers back with her slow pace and decreased stamina, another to put them all in danger. "Maybe we should risk it."

Typically, questioning a superior officer was inappropriate and inexcusable, but not one person reacted negatively to the Private's question. Murmurs of approval spread through the men.

Bucky turned toward the nurse, taking in her form. Like the rest of his soldiers, he also worried for the girl—more than he should have. She did not have any endurance training. She had not even left the relative safety of the camp until now, and it took everything in Bucky to stop himself from carrying her back to base camp, where she would be safe from the threat of gunfire and death.

He opened his mouth—to either agree with Eaton or disagree with him—no one could know. The girl chose that moment to let go of her hesitations. "I once spent an entire night out in the streets of France with just a pair of gloves and a tattered jacket," she rushed out. At the confused looks, she clarified, "in the middle of December." More looks. "In negative twenty-five-degree weather..." her voice was slowly tapering into shyness. "I am alive, am I not?"

"How much is that in Fahrenheit, Miss?" And the conversation moved forward.

The soldiers insisted on lighting at least a small fire for the girl's sake, igniting one under the cover of the dense coniferous trees. While the men began to set up camp for the night, Bucky stood there with a puckered brow and a frown marring his features, before shaking his head and helping them.

The nurse decided she would not be the one to risk them all. After another twenty minutes or so of bickering, she finally lost her temper. "You might as well know by now; I'm inherently stubborn, and nothing any of you say or do will change my mind."

After that, a perimeter was established, lookouts were posted, and tents were begrudgingly set up. Some soldiers retired to rest while others passed down alcohol, huddled against each other to conserve heat.

"It'll warm you up." Bucky sat down next to the shivering girl on a collapsed, decaying tree. He thrust a flask toward her mouth, urging her to drink from it. He took a sip when she made no move, clearing his throat and asking her again. "Will you drink some?"

His voice was sweet and kind, and she despised it. She pursed her lips in response and leaned away. "No, thank you," she replied while her teeth chattered.

Bucky frowned in annoyance. Her stubbornness, which he usually found amusing, was turning out to be somewhat of a hindrance.

"Sorry, doll, but it wasn't a question." He thrust the flask toward her once more, belligerent in his attempt.

She leaned farther away, and Bucky followed her, trapping her against the tree. "No, thank you. You know I don't drink alcohol—."

"Yes!" he suddenly grew frustrated and ran a trembling hand through his brown locks. Somehow the girl always managed to get on his nerve. "I know you don't drink, alright? And I know you hate cursing, that you're stubborn as hell, and that you talk funny because 'proper use of language is important.' I also know that you'll die of hypothermia if you don't warm yourself up, and I rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."

The girl inhaled sharply, her emotions in overdrive. She didn't realize how much he noticed her little quirks.

"I'd rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."

"Now, your whining might've worked in Brooklyn," Bucky continued. "Especially with Steve backing you up; but it won't work here. If you haven't noticed, we're not in New York anymore."

"I have eyes," the girl snapped, convinced she was nothing but a burden to him and the soldiers. She wondered again why Colonel Philips sent her, of all people, with the 107th. She didn't think she was that good. "You won't have to explain a thing. Don't worry. I won't die so easily."

Her words were laced with contempt and a hint of something else. Remorse, Bucky realized with a start, though before he could ponder on it any longer, she began to rise, seemingly done with their conversation.

"Damn it, woman!" Bucky's loud voice caught the entire camp's attention. He grabbed her forearm and yanked her back down. She winced when her bottom landed on the trunk a bit too hard. "I'll force this down your throat if I have to."

The girl blanched, shocked by Bucky's authoritative tone. "N-no, you will not!" She made an effort to appear commanding, but her stutter betrayed her. She was scared he would make good on his promise.

"You do not want to test me," he seethed. There was a look in Bucky's eyes she had not seen before. A crazed, almost feral glint in his pupils.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her insides warmed. She chalked it up to adrenaline. "I'm not that cold anymore."

Bucky said nothing, just continued to stare at her with the feral look still in his eyes.

Seconds passed—seconds that felt like minutes—before he spoke. "We're sleeping in one tent tonight." She didn't know why he was telling her that. "Together. To preserve body heat." She was still confused. "You either drink this, girl," he thrust the flask toward her lips once more. "or I'll make you sleep between my men. God knows they haven't touched a woman in months. So they won't have any complaints."

She argued with him, calling him petty names, and stuttering through excuses. "Y-you—you're."

"What?" he taunted. "Say it. Am I an asshole? A fucking idiot? Go on, don't be shy."

"You're an incompetent Sergeant. The most incompetent I've ever met!"

"I'm the only Sergeant you've ever met," Bucky deadpanned. "Seriously? That the best you can do?"

It was. "You're not that cruel! You're bluffing, like you bluffed about throwing me in the East River last year when I went out with that doctor."

"That doctor was a fucking creep with a criminal record," Bucky seethed. The girl's refusal went unheard. "And I wasn't bluffing. If Steve didn't stop me, you would have been swimming with the fish."

She muttered her annoyance under her breath, but Bucky caught it.

"God as my witness, I'll take you over my shoulder and lie on top of you if I have to!" One look into his eyes, and she could tell he was not lying.

When again he thrust the flask toward her mouth, she begrudgingly took it from him, bringing the cool metal to her lips. When the alcohol's bitter smell reached her, she almost gagged at the potent stench.

"I can't!" the girl choked on a sob, shoving the flask back into Bucky's hands.

A smirk adorned his pink lips, so unlike the anger she had been expecting. "Don't say I didn't warn ya." And before she could react, her world had been turned upside down.

Her legs went up, and her head went down. For a few moments, she froze, unable to understand what had happened. When a hand landed on her bottom, she gasped, realizing that Bucky had indeed made good on his promise—taken her over his shoulder.

When she screamed out of frustration, he shushed her. "Don't make me gag you."

The girl felt red, hot embarrassment at being treated like a child in front of all the soldiers. She scratched fruitlessly at Bucky's back, only to end up clutching his fatigues with numb fingers as he carried her across the clearing. At least the men had half a mind to keep their gaze averted when she was thrown unceremoniously inside one of the tents.

"You act like a caveman," she hissed, looking up at his scrunched brow.

Bucky's eyes softened, and all previous frustration and anger left him. Her insult amused him, and he plopped down next to her with a silent huff. "And you act like a brat."

The girl's answering words died on her tongue at Andrew Eaton's voice. "Lose the frown, Miss. There's not a single man here who wouldn't take a bullet for you, Barnes included."

A couple more soldiers entered the small tent, taking up the rest of the space. The girl ignored them, inhaling deeply. "I was perfectly fine outside, Andrew. Not cold at all."

A quick laugh from Bucky. "Is that why your lips are blue, and you're shaking like a leaf? 'Cause, you're not cold at all?"

"—He's just tryna keep you alive," Andrew interrupted before another argument could ensue.

A laugh bubbled up in the girl's throat before she could stop it. For some reason, the suggestion that Bucky Barnes was keeping her alive made her hysterical. Bucky Barnes, the man who couldn't keep a plant alive. She laughed until her stomach hurt, then she took a deep breath, clutched her middle while she fell backwards, and continued laughing.

"Fucking hell? She's crazy," the girl heard Bucky curse under his breath, but she was so far gone in delirium she could not be bothered to scold him for it.

"At least she's not frownin' anymore," Andrew offered.

The girl laughed harder, curling in on herself. Bucky stared at her with confused amusement, barely concealed, and chuckled softly. She was the most bizarre person he had ever met. So odd. Lately, he caught himself smiling more in her presence than ever before, finding it harder to resist her contagious delights. She was a constant amusement for the rest of the soldiers as well. Entertaining, though stressful.

She was still very clumsy, tripping on rocks and slipping down declines. A soldier needed to be watching her all the time, and that soldier, unbeknownst to her, was generally Bucky. He had grown eyes in the back of his head, trying to ensure she did not hurt herself. The girl had touched the hearts of all the men, his most of all, though he tried to conceal the fact by being curt and severe with her. Despite that, he did find pleasure in being able to tame her.

Ludovic Fournier, the Frenchman, muttered a phrase in his native tongue, and Andrew translated for him. "Women go a bit crazy before starting their courses. It's best to indulge them and not question it."

The entire tent went crazy, laughing and hollering almost as hard as the girl had been. Though she was not laughing anymore, and she was not amused. Her laughter died as quickly as it started—jarringly abrupt.

"I'm right here, you know!" She turned to the Frenchman. "Dis-moi, monsieur," the girl turned to him with a sarcastic and slightly intimidating curl of her lips. "Comment avez-vous appris tant de choses sur les femmes?"

The Frenchman swallowed thickly, and from behind him, Andrew translated his words to the small group. "She's asking how he got so damn smart."

"Ma femme."

"Ah! Idiote moi. Mais bien sûr. Ta femme doit être folle si elle tá épousé. Rien à voir avec se scours. Accune femme saine désprit ne portrait passer plus d'une journee avec toi sans avoir besoin d'être admis dans en établissement mental par la suite."

"She says, don't blame that time of the month, or your poor wife, when it's you're the reason she's like that." He guffawed out loud, drawing the girl's attention, before continuing. "Anyone would go crazy after spending more than a minute with you. Jesus Christ! Man, oh, man!"

The girl went warm all over. That was precisely why she tended to keep quiet. Her temper would rise if she did not keep her emotions in check. She had only ever lost it with Bucky before, never in front of a crowd. "Excuse me, gentlemen," she mustered what remaining dignity she had left, "but it's time for me to rest. I will see you all in the morning, bright and early. Good night."

Amidst all the hysterical laughing and the rampant rambling, the girl had forgotten Bucky's promise. He yanked her down before she could leave. He had indulged her long enough.

"I'm not letting you kill yourself—don't," he started, when he noticed her lips curl, "start laughing again. It was traumatizing enough the first time."

What he meant: "Please don't laugh again, because if you do, I wouldn't want you to stop. Ever." Except he did not know he felt such a thing. So, he annoyed her instead, undermining his affection for her.

The girl huffed loudly, voicing her frustration. The rest of the men settled inside the tent, pressed against each other for heat, hoping for at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. "I'm not cold anymore. I told you before."

"You're the worst liar I have ever met. Seriously! Worse than Steve." That was true. Steve was a horrible liar. "I can see you shivering. Hell! I can hear you!"

Bucky decided to give her a choice. A poor one, yes, but a choice, nonetheless. "Where do you wanna sleep? In between Fournier and Ward or next to Eaton?" He leaned in close, putting a hand next to his mouth as if indulging her with a secret. "I gotta warn you, though. He snores like a pig."

The girl simmered. She did not want to spend the night in the middle of men, and Bucky knew that. He was intimately aware of her reservation toward the opposite sex."Over here is fine." She was referring to the front of the tent where she was already seated.

"Perfect! This way, I'll be able to keep an eye on you."

"Excuse me?"

"You did choose the coldest spot, but I won't complain. Promise." He shrugged out of his jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"—as long as you wear this."

By now, it was a sort of ritual for Bucky to demand something of the girl and for her to deny him. No matter how helpful or minuscule the command, she could hardly help it anymore, even though it always ended with her compliance—sometimes forced.

"No, thank you." She was nothing if not stubborn.

Bucky scoffed. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her down until she was in his lap. The girl stifled her scream and gasped instead.

The rest of the men were almost all asleep, exhausted from the long day. So was the girl, though she would not admit it. She was tired and cold—more than usual—and scared; of what was to come and of what was currently taking place. Her ancient promise of staying away from James Buchanan Barnes was becoming harder to uphold.

Bucky knew this—not of her promise, of course, but of her crumbling resolve—So he pushed. He flustered and confused her. "Only because it's amusing," he told himself—her reaction to his teasing. "Only because it's amusing,"

"You should stick with red. Purple is not a good colour on you, and that's what you'll become if you don't listen to me." He placed his jacket over her shoulders, and she was instantly warmed.

"What about you?" Her voice was meek and hesitant, words honeyed in their delivery. "Will you not get cold?" But he only smirked and raised his brows in answer. "Oh. Right." She had forgotten his natural affinity for all things warm, so unlike her own, for all things cold.

"I've got both you and Eaton keeping me warm. I wouldn't worry about it." Bucky smirked when the girl said nothing and only blinked in surprise.

She lowered herself, letting her head touch the soft ground. Tarps had been placed neatly all over, offering protection from the snow surrounding them. She turned away from Bucky, putting a foot of space between him and herself, holding her breath when she felt him lie next to her. However, the second she relaxed, his arm wrapped around her midsection and pulled her flush against his front, not an inch separating them.

"Bucky!" she warned in a hushed whisper, struggling against his hold. "This is inappropriate!"

"No!" he huffed in her ear, hot breath warming her neck. "This is survival!" She continued her futile attempts, trying harder to elude his grasp. "Besides, I gave you my only jacket, and I need to—Damn it, woman! Stop moving," he groaned in her ear.

"Why?" she asked, squirming harder.

"Because—Damn it!" he groaned again. "Just stop, will ya?" A deep breath. "Please."

The girl went still. Bucky Barnes never said please, never begged. She had not thought it possible. So, to hear him beg her... she decided she could never let Bucky Barnes use that word ever again. It was dangerous when uttered by his lips. An irresistible, compelling word that she could never deny, gladly giving in to any request.

"Please."

"Sorry," she muttered quietly, quickly settling down, unsure if he was listening. He was. "I'm sorry."

The girl let the tiredness of the day wash over her. She let Bucky's arms hold her, keep her safe and warm, and protect her. Her eyes closed, and she entered the state before sleep where the body was still aware and preparing for rest.

"You drive me crazy," Bucky's whispered in her ear, so quiet she convinced herself she imagined it.

"You drive me crazy too," was her last thought before she let deep slumber overtake her. Except the girl knew Bucky did not mean it with the same intention as hers. "So crazy."

At a steep decline, her foot swept away from under her on an icy patch of grass. From behind her, Bucky dropped his copy of "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," extending his arm to grab her. He was not fast enough, and she fell on her back, sliding down until she hit a mountain of fresh snow.

"Jesus Christ, Darling!" Bucky reached under her arms to haul her up as if she weighed nothing. "You gotta watch where you're stepping."

"It's too dark," she sputtered, wiping snow off her face. "I couldn't see anything." From the east, the full moon was their only source of light, doing a poor job of illuminating the path through the dense forest around them.

"Fucking hell," Bucky swore, appraising the girl from head to toe. "You're soaked."

"I'm fine," she rasped, already beginning to shiver as the cold permeated her layers to settle in her skin. "I can keep going."

"Like hell you can," Bucky muttered, looking ahead to see everyone else's progress.

"There's no need to swear," the girl grumbled, pulling her hat farther down.

Bucky raised a brow at that. "At least the cold didn't get to your head."

She rolled her eyes, turning to leave, but Bucky grabbed her before she could take a single step, hauling her up in his arms. She shrieked, wrapping her hands around his neck for stability. "What are you doing?"

"You're going to trip again," he said by way of explanation. "It's just a little bit further. Then we'll set up camp."

Bucky ignored the girl's protests, quickly catching up with the rest of the battalion. They walked another mile in about half an hour, and Bucky ignored all of the girl's grumbling, only acknowledging her once they reached a small clearing and began setting up camp.

"Shut up," he grumbled, to which he received a smack on the back of his head.

"You shut up."

He lowered the girl next to the small smokeless fire Simon Ward lit, draping his jacket over her, "Dry up as much as you can. I'll be back."

Scooting closer to the small blaze, the girl pulled Bucky's jacket tighter around her shoulders, studying the flame with intensity as she recalled waking up the past few days.

The girl had gone to sleep slightly rigid and stiff, unused to resting next to another body, but she woke up in a tangle of limbs. Bucky's hands in her hair, her face tucked in the crook of his neck. Sometime in the middle of the night, she had turned over and gravitated closer to the heat his body was radiating. It was the best sleep either of them had ever had. Neither was willing to acknowledge it.

The night after was a repeat of the night before. Bucky threatened alcohol down the girl's throat, and she responded with a litany of insults which he laughed away. They wrestled while everyone watched—Bucky won, and the girl awoke the next day surrounded by a familiar warmth and a musky scent one could only describe as Bucky Barnes.

A week later, the moon was low in the sky, marking the beginning of winter. Neither the girl nor Bucky brought up their temporary sleeping arrangements, choosing to ignore the feelings festering inside them. The girl felt her resolve slowly crumbling. What was that promise she made to herself regarding Bucky Barnes? She couldn't quite recall.

The girl busied herself with unpleasant memories of his. She remembered when she first moved into the apartment across from Bucky. She was carrying a box full of books up the fifth floor of a six-story building. She had to take a break every few minutes to rest her arms, or they would've fallen off. Just outside her door, she collided with a brick wall. Her books went flying—so did she—and Bucky Barnes ran past her without so much as an "excuse me," muttering profanity under his breath. From then on, she started hating him.

That's how she met Steve. The slender young man popped a blonde head out of his friend's door and asked if he could help. She said, "no thanks," but he didn't listen, insisting on bringing the rest of her things up. That night, over a cup of hot tea, she learned about James Buchanan Barnes and his skirt-chasing tendencies. She began to hate him a bit more.

She recalled all his jabs of how she dressed, the way she looked, mocking her insecurities by sarcastically complimenting her. The ruined date with that doctor—never mind the potential criminal record. His threat to drown her.

He broke her friend's heart, told her he would call the next day and didn't. She was married now with a baby on the way, but it was the principle of the thing that irked her.

One by one, all of Bucky's wrongdoings came to the forefront of the girl's mind. When he argued with her, undermined her, and treated her like porcelain. When he called her "doll," "darling," and "sweetheart."

She hated that most of all.

Still, she could not ignore the tiny flutter in her heart whenever she thought of the blue-eyed sergeant. Despite all the bad, she now only remembered his warm smile and comforting embrace.

The girl brought her hand dangerously close to the fire, letting the flame irritate her skin before pulling away. She still felt cold.

Bucky returned a few moments later, rubbing his bare hands together in front of his face. "You tired?"

The girl ignored his question, asking one of her own. "Where are your gloves?"

Bucky's frosty breath momentarily covered his face. "Bradshaw lost his."

"Jeremy?"

Bucky nodded with a smile, unsurprised the girl knew most of the soldiers' names. "Wait, what are you doing?"

She fished her gloves from her coat, thrusting them toward him. "They're dry now. Here, take them."

"Don't be stupid," Bucky scoffed, "you'll get cold." Still, she persevered, leaving her hand dangling. "I'm not taking your gloves," Bucky said with finality.

"Alright," she nodded, dropping her hand and taking off his jacket instead.

Bucky seized her by the shoulders, stopping her and giving her a little shake. "What the fucking hell, woman! Keep your jacket on. It's freezing."

"Don't swear. It's yours, not mine. Take it." She tried prying his fingers off, but he wouldn't budge. "The gloves or the jacket, Bucky. Your choice."

"So goddamn stubborn. Every day you find something new to argue with me about, don't you?"

"Pick one," she warned, "or I'm giving both to Jeremy."

With a mumbled curse, Bucky snatched the gloves from her lap, putting them on like a petulant child.

"And say thank you," she snapped, slightly perturbed he hadn't taken back his jacket.

Bucky squinted his eyes, dropping down next to her. "You're acting like a real brat today."

"You're acting like a caveman! Now leave me alone so I can sleep in peace." She had turned away from Bucky, but when he offered no reply, she swallowed uneasily and looked back. His eyes glinted with mischief, hinting at his next step. "Bucky, no!"

She tried to stop him but was no match for his strength. Her world spun, and she found herself on his shoulder once again. Thankfully she stayed quiet this time, not bringing any extra attention toward them.

"I'll show you caveman." Bucky plopped her down in one of the smaller tents with space just enough for two, closing the flap behind him.

She steamed in forced fury, trying to take comfort in the fact that, pretty soon, she wouldn't have to put up with the infuriating soldier at all. She failed.

After a moment, when Bucky still hadn't moved from his hunched-over position at the front of the tent, the girl snapped at him. "What are you waiting for, Bucky? Come to bed!"

They both paused, processing the girl's words. "Come to bed." It was the first time she willingly called for him. She looked down, embarrassment creeping up her neck, unable to see the smile on Bucky's face.

Carefully, Bucky settled in behind her, embracing her with both arms, fitting her against him. When she began to squirm, he only had to issue a single warning before she relaxed. He sighed gratefully, not wanting a repeat of the past week where she slept oblivious while he tried to tamp down his arousal.

"This is nice," Bucky thought the girl muttered, though he couldn't be sure because she was already asleep.

"Yeah, this is really nice," Bucky whispered against her temple as blissful sleep overtook him.

From a distance, the Italian alps were quite breathtaking. She imagined a cabin in the forest, high on the Dolomite mountains; this would be her view. Maybe she would move here one day—once the war was over—and ask Steve to join her. Steve didn't have anyone stopping him from leaving other than Bucky. Maybe Bucky could join too? She shook that thought away.

The Dolomites were far behind them now, and as they passed town after town, destroyed and abandoned, an unsettling feeling grew vigorous in her gut. They were close to the Austrian border, hugging the small villages and settlements as they got closer to their destination: Azzano.

They made camp as the sun set, supplying the perfect backdrop to a most tiresome journey. The girl slung her pack to the ground and stretched her muscles while waiting for Bucky to finish ordering the men around.

He offered her water when he finished, which she took gratefully. "Lieutenant General Allan Montgomery should be here within the week. We'll travel the rest of the way to Azzano together." Then Bucky's eyes downturned. "We're only a few miles away from the front line. Do you remember your training?" he asked, looking for hesitation.

Of course, by training, he was referring to the hour-long lesson she was given on battlefield defence, not that any of it stuck. She tried schooling her features, failing miserably. "Yes, I do." Her voice was strong and confident, though she felt anything but. "If we spot the enemy, I'm supposed to set up a station at a safe spot and wait for the injured there. They will be sent back if they are fit to fight. If not..." she trailed off, unable to stomach the fact. "But I won't let that happen," she promised.

Bucky looked at her pityingly, as if he knew something she did not. "Let's hope so. The rest of the 107th should be here in a couple of days with General McGinnis. They were right behind us, so—"

Bucky paused, looking behind the girl at the soldiers setting up camp, before shaking his head and continuing. "Are you tired? The sun's beginning to set."

The girl wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked, immediately picking up on the girl's discomfort.

"Bucky..." she began hesitantly. "How long will you make me sleep with you?"

Bucky frowned. "Do you feel uncomfortable? I know I came across as an asshole, but I didn't want you to freeze to death. Sorry, we can stop."

Unable to respond immediately, the girl looked at him with barely concealed bewilderment. Apologizing; is another thing Bucky Barnes did not do. "No, I don't want to stop. It's just..." she trailed off, looking for the right word. "inappropriate, especially with the General joining us soon."

"No, it's not," he said matter of factly. "We're friends."

"Friends don't sleep together," the girl responded, unsure of what she wanted to hear him say.

Bucky waited until she looked him in the eyes. "We're the exception. Hey, they've got bigger matters to worry about than us sharing body heat. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Well, good."

An awkward silence fell between the pair, and the girl cleared her throat before the feeling could consume her. "The men look ready to fight," she observed, watching her surroundings.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, uh... I mentioned we're near the front lines, right? So we need to set up a perimeter and plan the best line of attack. Make sure we have a solid line of defence in case something happens. Hey, don't worry. We've got this." Bucky gave her shoulder a tiny shove.

"Oh," she huffed, "I am not worried."

"Yeah?" a smile lit his eyes. "Your face is telling me a different story."

She pursed her lips in frustration. "I'm not worried about you, Bucky," she snapped, "I'm worried about Steve. He needs his friend to come back home—in one piece—and now, I know you normally have no regard for your safety, but you have to be careful if you don't want to leave our friend alone in Brooklyn."

Bucky saw red. He pulled at his hair in frustration. It was unbelievable how quickly she was able to rile him up. "Are you kidding me? I'm the one with no regard for safety? In the time I've known you, you've almost died over five times. You can't even cross the street without putting yourself in danger! Hell! I'm still confused about how they let you in this damn war in the first place." He rushed his words, voicing his anger and annoyance. He only registered the last part of the girl's sentence when he took a deep breath.

"Why would Steve be all alone in Brooklyn?" he asked in a more even tone. "You're going to be there, and a few months later, I'll join... he won't be alone. Why would you say that?"

He froze at the look on her face. Guilt—In her eyes, in the way she held herself, oozing from her pores. Bucky could smell it. Bucky could even taste it. "What did you do?"

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you both sooner, but I only just decided and—"

"What. Did. You. Do?" Bucky grit out.

The girl took a deep breath. "I'm leaving. Moving to Canada. I already asked for a transfer—"

"Canada? Fucking Canada?"

"—Don't swear, please," she pleaded.

"This is some sick joke, right? Tell me you're joking." Bucky grabbed her forearms, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bucky, but I already applied for the transfer. I'm supposed to be moved to a different regiment when we get back to base."

There were many things the girl expected Bucky to say. She expected him to be happy that he was finally rid of her. Relieved she would be gone. She did not expect him to be hurt.

"Were you ever gonna say goodbye?"

"Bucky, I—"

"To Steve, to me. Were you ever going to tell me if I hadn't asked?"

No, she would not have. "Please, Bucky," she pleaded. "I don't want to leave you angry. For the sake of our past, let it go. We won't see each other again for a long time. Not until the war is over."

Bucky scoffed. "Phillips would never let that happen; he wouldn't let you leave. You're his favourite nurse."

She furrowed her brows in response. "I'm not Colonel Phillips' favourite nurse. He has no favourites."

"You're everyone's favourite nurse," he replied as if stating a fact.

"Liar!" she wanted to scream at him. She knew she was not his favourite.

"Not yours," she whispered, staring at him for a moment. "Lila Bellamy told me about the date you took her on. She said you turned a war zone into the most romantic place she'd ever seen. You brought her flowers, danced with her, and kissed her on the cheek once the night was over." She felt wetness gathering in her eyes. "You were the perfect gentleman."

When the first tear dropped, she didn't bother wiping it away. "When you return to base camp, please give Lila my regard. She was quite worried for me. Will you let her know I'm safe? She would be glad to hear from you, and I won't get to talk to her before I leave."

Bucky's grip on her shoulder tightened almost painfully, making her flinch. Through the hurt coursing in her body, she managed a feeble smile. "Try not to break her heart? You two look good together."

"No!" Bucky had had enough; he could hold his words in no longer. "There's nothing between Lila and me."

The girl shook her head. "You don't have to lie."

"Stop it!" Bucky exploded, shaking her. "Stop pushing me away. I don't want Lila; I never wanted her. I've only ever wanted you!"

"Bucky," the girl gasped.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave me, doll," he started, and there was that word she hated. "I'll take you over my shoulder if I have to, but you're not going to fucking Canada; because I love—"

Bucky never got to finish his sentence, never got to tell the girl how he felt because one of his worst nightmares was suddenly realized.

A bullet whizzed past them both—so close that the girl could smell the gunpowder in the wind, could feel its displacement through air against her cheek before it found a home in the soldier behind her. She screamed as she fell, Bucky's heavy weight shielding her body, keeping her down. Her world turned upside down, and she found herself on the cold ground with Bucky's grip on her arms tightened painfully.

To her right, the unfortunate soldier lay dead, with an 8-millimeter-sized hole in his head oozing a steady stream of thick blood. A wound meant for her.

The girl touched a hand to her cheek, which had suddenly warmed. It came back painted as red as the poppy fields back in Provence, France.

She began to tremble as shock overtook her.

Bucky swore under his breath, eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. Beneath him, the girl's eyes darkened in fear. She smeared the splatter of blood on her cheeks and stared at her fingers in horror.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." She kept muttering under her breath, eyes wide and lips quivering. "N-No. No. No. No."

All around Bucky, the soldiers ran, grabbing artillery and readying defences. "What the hell happened!?" he screamed. "We had a perimeter set up!" Underneath him, she shivered—out of shock or fear, he determined, rather than the cold.

"Those Nazi bastards were waiting to ambush us!" a voice shouted from amidst the chaos. "They knew we were coming!"

Another bullet whizzed past Bucky's head, embedding itself in the ground next to the girl's head. He jerked her away and swore. "Fuck!" She still trembled under him, muttering nonsense. He took her face in his hands, urging her to look at him. " Hey, darlin'? Doll, look at me."

Her eyes were glued to her shaky hands. "Oh God, no. No, I can't. I can't. I can't."

For a few seconds, Bucky froze above her—a few seconds too many—before his training kicked in. He needed to get her out of there. Bucky yanked her hands to the side and held her face in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at him.

"We're in a war zone right now." He said her name with fierce assurance. "The enemy isn't going to stop until we're all dead. I need you to remember the promise you made me this morning. You promised you wouldn't let anyone die—Hey!"

The girl tried peeking at the dead soldier beside her, but Bucky blocked her view.

"Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me," he said. The girl whimpered, her eyes misting. "Look at me. That's not your fault."

She shook her head.

"—Hey! It's not. Those German bastards killed him, not you."

"That bullet was meant for me," she sobbed between breaths, "it should have hit me." The desperation in her voice cut him like a knife. He felt her fear as if it were his own.

"Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare!" Under normal circumstances, Bucky would be concerned at the girl's lack of reaction to his cursing, but he had already spent too much time coddling her, and the men needed him. "I'm gonna go and avenge that soldier's death, darlin'," Buck shouted over the sound of battle. "I'm going to burn those Germans to the ground. I'm going to do my job, and you have to do yours."

She looked at him then, and Bucky exhaled gratefully at the clarity he saw in her eyes, hidden behind adrenaline and fear. She gave him a little nod and stifled her sobs. "I feel a little sick."

"Me too," said Bucky, hauling them both to their feet.

The second they were upright, Bucky yanked her behind a tree for cover against the onslaught of bullets raining down on them. "You have to run." He grabbed his rifle from behind his back and checked the ammunition.

"Bucky—"

"When I tell you to, I want you to run toward those trees over there," he pointed to a slight decline, where the trees were thicker and provided more cover, "and I want you to keep on running."

"Wait! No!"

"No matter what happens!" He would not look her in the eyes—Could not look her in the eyes. "You run until you reach the last marker—" Bucky took off his helmet and placed it on the girl's head, fastening it over her hat. "—about a mile and a half out—"

"Bucky, listen to me!"

But he would not listen to her. The girl kept calling him, but he ignored her. He knew his eyes would betray his fear if he did. And he knew that the terrified look that had most likely taken up residence on her face, would force him to lose the last of his sanity and carry her back to base. This war zone was the last place he wanted her.

"You stay there until someone comes for you, and you don't—"

"James!"

And there it was, that damned name. So absolutely dangerous when uttered by her lips. Time slowed for both of them as if the war had pressed pause. Sound faded, colours brightened, and for a few minuscule seconds Bucky and her existed in their own little world, where the blood on her hands was paint, and the look in his eyes was love and not fear.

Bucky looked down, expecting to see the girl hysterical and weeping. Instead, he saw something completely different. Her eyes were clear, the most they had been in weeks, terribly similar to the look she would get in camp when the life of a soldier was in her hands.

And when she spoke, there was determination in her voice. A promise. "You better come back in one piece for Steve." And he knew she meant, "be careful."

He blinked at her, once, then twice, ensuring there were no other hidden messages behind her words. "You better run fast." And she knew he meant, "I will."

The world around them came back into focus, and with a final tightening of her helmet, Bucky pushed her away, sending her running toward safety.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? She couldn't be sure. Her boot-clad feet were numb from being buried in the snow, and her back was sore from chafing against the rough bark of a pine tree.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? The sun had long since disappeared under the horizon. In its stead was the moon, still as big and beautiful as the night before. Was it privy to all the horrors the girl wasn't? Did it frown over the violence and brutality it witnessed, or did the inhumanity of the act make it shine brighter?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? Above her, a bird chirped loudly, disturbed by the gunfire that seemed to grow closer as the moon rose higher in the sky. An hour? Two? It certainly felt like more.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The girl placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, patting her chest as a means to settle it. "It's okay," she whispered, afraid to voice her thoughts any louder. "It's okay."

She twisted her body around the thick trunk, peeking at the darkness beyond her hiding spot. Another jarring explosion, fake sounding and unreal, before the world quieted. Eerily so.

The bird above her stopped its music. The leaves stopped their little dance. The girl twisted fully, staring intently at the spot she had come running from before finding a temporary home against her tree. All felt normal—well, as normal as could be.

What was it that prompted her forward and on her feet? Bucky's instructions rang clear in her head. "You stay there until someone comes for you." No one was there for her, yet her feet began to move of their own volition. Perhaps at the persuasion of a greater force. Fear; she could taste it on her tongue.

Fear that made her keep going despite the ache in her limbs. Fear that numbed her skin against the sharp tendrils of wind cutting her face. Fear of the quiet. Of being alone. Of being without him.

"Bucky," her whisper echoed against the draught. "James," her heart bled through the frozen ground.

The stench hit her first. Her nose picked up on what her eyes could not. Rotting flesh, putrid and burnt. Sweat and vomit mixed in with the minerally dirt. Her tongue flared up next as copper permeated the rest of her senses, overwhelmingly strong. And the fear; she caught herself against a tree as it engulfed her, making her lose the contents of her stomach.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The girl was at the edge of the clearing, with the gruesome scene of battle right in front of her. Her eyes moved fleetingly across everything, afraid of what she might find. What was once the site of a lively campsite was now demolished in a mess of guts and spoils.

The earth had turned over to create trenches and hiding spots. Dead bodies and dismembered limbs were scattered across the ground, decorating it with a gruesome excuse for peace.

It was quiet. Too quiet. The calm before the storm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She spotted movement from the corner of her eye, followed by a low groan of pain.

James. Her heart lurched.

A head of blonde curls bobbed from behind a mountain of dirt. The girl reached behind her for her pack, realizing it lay abandoned on the battlefield. She spotted it twenty-something meters away to her right.

Her eyes squeezed shut. The girl wasn't sure if it was safe to venture out, but it was so quiet, and still, she reasoned the worst of it had passed. She made up her mind; first, the pack, then the wounded soldier.

With her arms pumping rhythmically, she ran. Five, ten, fifteen meters out. The girl skid to a stop, bending to grab the pack. Instead, cold metal kissed her temple, and she stopped breathing.

Her terror-stricken eyes met dilated blue ones. Her pack perched on the edge of what resembled a small trench, hidden from the rest of the clearing. Several soldiers sat hunched over, brandishing various weapons. Bucky Barnes lowered his rifle as gut-wrenching fear overtook his face. He shook his head vigorously, reaching up to grab her, but she stumbled back on her arms, clutching the pack to her chest.

The girl swallowed the sob threatening to spill over. Bucky was alive and safe, though a bit roughed up. She looked to her left at the blonde soldier immobilized by his injury, and Bucky followed her gaze. She noticed the moment it clicked for him, and she made her decision on the spot. She only hoped her eyes accurately portrayed her feelings.

Bucky's mouth opened in a silent scream of her name, and he leapt from his spot, tossing his weapon to the side. Andrew Eaton grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and yanked him back to safety. The girl took that opportunity to scramble to her feet. Behind her, Bucky's muffled shout echoed in her ears.

"He's okay," she reassured herself. "Bucky's okay."

The wounded soldier was lying on his front, eyes closed and motionless. She fell to her knees, placing two fingers against his windpipe. There, faint and irregular, an indistinct pulse was striving to intensify.

The soldier was alive. Good, she thought, I can work with that. His dog tags peeked from under his coat: Matthew Miles Davidson. Frantic hands ran over his body, feeling for a wound. Her hand came away wet, and she discovered his pants soaked with blood. Bracing herself on her knees, the girl rolled Matthew over with a groan.

"Sorry," she whispered when he moaned in anguish. "I'm sorry." Producing a pocket knife, she cut the fabric away from his right thigh, displaying his injury. Puckered skin oozed a steady flow of red, painting her hands. She laced her fingers together and pressed against the opening, using her entire weight to stop the blood.

The girl's thoughts were in overdrive, swiftly taking in and storing information. No exit wound, meaning the bullet was still inside. Matthew was faintly moving, his chest rising and falling with every breath. The girl decided she would remove the bullet, bandaging the wound before dragging him past the trees for cover.

However, over the adrenaline rushing through her ears, she did not realize another fight had broken out. Someone shouted from a distance, and the girl pulled away, unbuckling Matthew's belt and folding it in half. She needed to clean his wound, and since the morphine was in a different pack, with the rest of the medicine, Matthew was going to feel everything.

He was slightly more lucid now, staring at her, so she grabbed his face and urged him to listen. "Bite down on this, Matthew." And he obediently followed her direction.

"Good, you're doing very good." She ran a hand over his hair, cooing with a sad smile. "Don't make any noise, okay?"

The girl retrieved a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large roll of bandages. She had tweezers in her pack for removing the shell, needle and thread for the other gashes. Those she kept in the kit and moved out of the way. Uncapping the rubbing alcohol, she liberally poured some over her hands to sanitize them before positioning the bottle over the laceration.

"This is going to hurt," she warned Matthew before tipping the bottle over.

The second the ethanol breached his wound, Matthew let out an ear-splitting scream, despite the sound being muffled by his belt. He writhed on the ground, body spasming in pain.

His groans of agony cloaked the racket of the fight around her, making it so she couldn't hear the tank powering up.

"You're okay, Matthew!" she cried.

From her right, someone screamed, and a solid form collided with her, tackling her to the ground. The night sky turned a light blue, flashing white for a brief moment, and the girl raised her head. In her spot, where she sat just a second ago, tending to Matthew's wounds, was air. No supplies, no pack, and no Matthew. The only evidence that something, or someone, had been there was the roll of bandages in her hand and the blackened earth outlining the shape of a body.

Looking to her saviour, she didn't know if she should be grateful or ungrateful that her life was spared.

"You're okay!" Bucky cried, roaming his hands over her body, feeling if she was alive and well. "Fuck! I told you to fucking stay there!" He craned his neck to witness his men steadily losing ground, unmatched by the enemy and their technology.

When Bucky turned toward the girl, the fear in his eyes left her paralyzed. Panic-stricken hands ripped at her clothes, and at first, she was too shocked to react, but as the feeling returned to her limbs, she protested against him.

Bucky smeared a handful of dirt over her face, covering her eyes and lips. She clawed at his chest, trying to stop him, but he forced her back. They were still on the ground, him on top of her, leaving her immobilized.

Then he grabbed the bandages and lifted her undershirt to wrap her chest. "Stop," she whimpered. "Bucky, stop."

He didn't listen.

"James," she pleaded.

And there was that damned name again. Bucky stopped, looking into her eyes to see his terrified form reflected back. "We're losing," he rasped.

No further explanation was needed when Bucky looked at her like that. The girl heard all he wanted to say, saw all he wanted to do, and felt all he begged to show. She relaxed her body, giving him all her trust, and let him do what he did best.

That night the moon witnessed the girl surrendering to Bucky Barnes. That night, he saved her.

The air reeked of secretion. The girl didn't know why she found that detail so surprising. What else was a prison supposed to smell like if not human feces, fear and hopelessness?

She didn't remember the ride over. Shortly after surrendering, they were herded, like cattle, into armoured trucks. Masked men pulled her away from Bucky and tied her hands behind her back, shoving her into a separate truck.

The drive wasn't long, and in a few hours, they were stopping. When a guard pushed her and nine others into a dark cell, she fell to her knees and cried. Fortunately, Andrew Eaton was in the same cell as her, and he pulled the girl to him, muffling her sobs against his chest. Her high-pitched wailing was sure to catch someone's attention.

War was not kind to men, even less to young women. If they caught her, what would they do? She remembered the fear in Bucky's eyes as he frantically concealed the weight of her breasts, flattening them to resemble a man's. She decided she didn't want to find out.

The girl fell asleep in Andrew's arms wishing she was in Bucky's embrace instead. But Andrew was cold, and no matter how hard she tried, her imagination could not do Bucky justice.

In the morning, guards came for them. A burly-looking German soldier explained to her group in broken English that they were going to be put to work. Weapons manufacturing. "How does it feel?" he asked, "that we'll be killing your brothers with the weapons you make for us." They laughed amongst themselves, then pointed their guns at her and the prisoners, putting them to work.

Nights passed miserably. Andrew assured the girl Bucky was somewhere in the facility, in one of the cells scattered across the vast space, though that did little to calm her. She cried herself to sleep, body aching from the laborious work forced upon them.

By morning, the news spread. Men were being taken away.

A foul-faced officer was picking soldiers at random, plucking them away. "Hitler's right-hand man," someone sneered. "The devil incarnate," another cowered.

Andrew kept the girl tucked away against him, shielding her from wandering eyes. The dirt on her face had washed away, her hair loosened from her braid, bindings slack. She finally looked like a woman.

She saw the proof of it etched on Andrew's face when the guards came near. It was yet another night, and she was resting her head against the thick bars of the metal prison when she heard them. Andrew tried to hide her, but space was limited, and the devil's keen eye landed on her before she could move.

"What have we here?" A man with a drooping face and quizzical brow bent down to look at the girl. He grabbed her jaw in a rough grip through the bars when she attempted to crawl away. "Ah!" he exclaimed fervently, digging his nails into her skin until she whimpered. "A girl?"

His free hand went to her neck, dropping lower and lower until she protested, pushing him away. "No!"

The man raised a brow. "How did you manage to slip through, Mäuschen?" He gestured to the guards behind him, who marched forward to open the bars. "Let's find out, shall we?"

"Don't touch her, bastards!" Andrew shouted, pulling her back.

The girl wanted to stop him, but she became paralyzed with fear. The men had guns and long sticks—Andrew had nothing but his wits about him and a pair of worn fists.

The next few events happened in quick succession. A muscle in the devil's face twitched, his smile momentarily dropping, which he swiftly schooled. "Das Mäuschen has a protector? What a waste." He shrugged carelessly. "No matter. Always more where he came from."

A bang resounded, and Andrew fell backwards, eyes wide and unmoving. Someone screamed, loud and shrill. It wasn't until a guard whisked the girl away that she realized it was her screaming.

The prisoners shouted in protest as she passed by them. From amongst the hoard of fury, a pair of blue eyes met hers, two hands grasped cool metal, and two lips parted to call out her name. The girl craned her neck to look, but heavyset doors closed behind her before the voice could reach her ears.

She closed her eyes to block out her surroundings, and when she finally reopened them, it was the next day.

His name was Arnim Zola—Dr. Arnim Zola—and he was a scientist working for HYDRA. That's where they were held captive, the Doctor divulged, at one of the many facilities HYDRA owned across the continent.

The Doctor passionately described the importance of the work done at HYDRA while the girl was bound to an exam table. "How lucky that you will not only be alive to see HYDRA shine, but you will also take part in it." He checked the girl's pulse, jotting something down on a clipboard. "We lost many of the men. They all fight the effects. It will be interesting to see how a woman fares, don't you think?"

She was too tired to struggle, and when the Doctor injected a burning liquid in her veins, she found she was too tired to scream.

The world turned black.

When she came to, however long later, Dr. Zola was hunched over his desk, shuffling through papers while muttering under his breath. "How is this possible? I gave her a larger dose."

The burning had turned to ice in her veins, and she shook violently against her restraints as she shivered. "Please..."

"I don't understand. Are you sweating it off?" Then he hummed. "I will need more tests." And her world turned black once again.

How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? Months? The girl could not be sure of anything other than that the cold in her veins had found a home in her heart.

"Immune," she heard the Doctor repeat. "Nothing is working."

She was counting the marks on the wall of the tiny room she was locked in when Dr. Zola approached her one day. "Herr Schmidt wants me to dispose of you," he told her. "But I think you can serve us yet."

She turned away from him and closed her eyes, trying to ignore him.

"That prisoner. What was his name? The one who died protecting you?"

Andrew. The girl opened her eyes and looked at Dr. Zola with distrust.

"He made me wonder if the others would do the same."

"They won't," she told him, trying to hide her desperation. "I'm only a nurse."

Dr. Zola snickered mischievously, slowly backing out of the small room. "We will see about that."

That night they brought the first prisoner. Someone she did not recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

He spat on Arnim Zola's face. "Go to hell, you son of a bitch!"

The Doctor wiped away the drool with a wry smile, gesturing to the soldiers holding the girl still. "No!" she managed to shout before they plunged her face into a bucket of ice water.

She held her breath at first, hoping to bide some time before they pulled her out, but as her heart raced and the grip on her arms tightened, she couldn't help it any longer. She began to thrash, shaking and sputtering as the water invaded her lungs.

After what felt like an eternity, she tasted fresh air, heaping lungfuls to ease the burn in her throat.

The prisoner thrashed against his restraints, screaming profanities into the air as Dr. Zola injected him with a blue substance.

"Stop resisting!" the Doctor demanded. "You'll ruin the transformation!" He turned toward the girl. "Do you want her to die?" he asked the prisoner. "They'll kill her."

The prisoner screamed louder.

"Again!" Dr. Zola ordered.

The girl managed to take a deep breath before they plunged her into the water again, not that it helped. The torture went on for the rest of the night. By the last hour, the prisoner had died, lying in a pool of vomit.

The next night they brought the second prisoner. Someone she did recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

"Jeremy? No!" the girl began to cry. "No, not him!"

"Miss?" Jeremy looked at Dr. Zola with indignation. "Let her go."

"Do as I say," Zola repeated, "and I will."

"Go to hell."

And so it began.

Though, It did not last very long. When the girl screamed for the first time, Jeremy Bradshaw gave in. "I'll do it. I'll do anything. Just let the lady go."

Zola smiled victoriously. "Now, that wasn't so hard. Was it?"

A few hours later, Jeremey's heart gave out.

"He was weak," Zola proclaimed. "We need someone stronger."

The next night they brought the third prisoner. Someone she knew.

The girl had prepared herself this time. She wouldn't cry or scream out; she would fight! But none of it mattered when she saw the person standing before her.

War was not kind to men, and this one was proof of it. His hair was longer, touching the tips of his ears, and a light beard covered most of his face, making him almost unrecognizable. Almost. His piercing blue eyes stayed the same.

"James," she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes, waiting for the moment he saw her.

"Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

Bucky screamed the moment he did, mouth open in rage. The girl wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Was she as haggard in appearance as him? She sure felt it.

Bucky threw the soldiers off him, shouting her name as he ran toward her. He came to a halt when someone put a gun to her head, and the soldiers took the opportunity to restrain him once again.

"Yes, you are strong, indeed. Now, will you do as I say?" Zola asked.

"Eat shit, cocksucker."

Bucky was being so strong. So could she.

When the soldiers grabbed the girl, she was ready. She kicked one of them between the legs, and when he loosened his hold, she bit the hand on her shoulder. She must have made it two steps before they restrained her again.

She heard the buzz before she could feel it, and an unbridled scream left her. Electricity travelled up her spine, burning a pathway through her nerves. Her muscles went lax, and she fell, convulsing on the cold floor.

"No," she whimpered as they administered another shock through a small black device. But they were unrelenting, kicking her half-conscious form while she was down.

Bucky roared in rage while they abused her, but he could do nothing but watch as they gave her another electric shock.

"I'll kill you sons of bitches! I'll fucking kill you!"

Zola injected Bucky with the blue liquid. "Relax your muscles! Let the transformation take over."

"Fuck. You!" Bucky seethed.

The girl crawled toward him from her position on the ground, dragging herself by her nails. The soldiers followed leisurely, laughing at her pathetic attempt. The next shock made her throw up. Bile and stomach acid; since she hadn't been able to keep anything else down.

"She'll die, Soldier," Zola warned Bucky. "There's only so much a person can take."

Bucky stopped thrashing, briefly looking at the girl before addressing the Doctor. "What will you do to her?" he asked, unconcerned for himself.

"Bucky, no."

"Will you hurt her?"

Zola smiled, knowing he had won. "As long as you do as I say, I promise she will remain unharmed."

The girl began to cry. "Don't give up, Bucky. I can take it."

"—No, she can't," Zola interrupted.

"James!"

Their eyes met, and the girl knew Bucky had made up his mind. "I'll do anything." He slumped against his restraints, giving over his control. Before the Soldiers dragged her away, Bucky mouthed three words that shattered her completely. "I love you."

The doors closed before she could mouth it back.

Bucky Barnes was in shock. He had to be. That was the only reason he was on his feet after a week of hell, feeling only slightly bruised and fatigued. Yes, it was the shock that kept him moving, and not whatever it was the Doctor injected in him.

"Did it hurt?" Bucky asked, only slightly stumbling.

"A little," replied Steve Rogers. The same Steve Rogers Bucky remembered being at least two heads shorter.

"Is this permanent?" Bucky took in the striped shield, the muscles hidden by leather.

"So far."

Bucky chuckled, pressing his chest to feel his heart beating wildly within.

"The exit's through here," Steve gestured.

Bucky pulled him back. "Wait. I have to find someone first."

"Who?"

Bucky stared at his friend for a moment, hesitating. Steve didn't know the girl was with him. She never told anyone where she was deployed. Bucky whispered her name before clearing his throat and saying it louder.

He saw the surprise on Steve's face slowly morph into determination. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's get her."

They found her quickly. She was in an unmarked room on the second floor, hiding underneath a small blanket. Steve stayed behind, and Bucky entered the dark space with careful steps.

He heard the girl whimper in protest and scurry closer to the wall. "Not again. Please!"

Bucky bent down, and what he saw made him pause. He almost didn't recognize the girl with her sunken face and pale skin. She had lost weight, and her clothes were hanging off of her, but her eyes were what broke him. Wide and distrustful. Lifeless.

Bucky wiped his tears away, determined to stay strong. "Come here. I've got you."

The girl crawled farther away as if trying to embed herself in the wall. Bucky grabbed her face with both hands. "Look at me. Hey! Look at me, doll. It's Bucky."

She finally met his eyes, and Bucky saw the moment she recognized him. "James?" she sobbed, clutching his shirt in a weak grip. "You're here!"

Bucky lifted the girl in his arms, keeping her close to his chest. The first thing he noticed was how cold she was; the second was that she weighed almost nothing. When Bucky stumbled out, unsteady on his feet, Steve grabbed her from him, exchanging the shield for her. "Reserve your energy. We've got a long way to go."

"Steven? Am I dreaming?"

Steve laughed sadly. "No."

"You're big now," she sighed. "What happened?"

Steve shrugged. "I joined the army."

"I always knew you would."

They all laughed, happy for a moment that they were reunited. But danger was near, Bucky could feel it, and his smile dropped. Around them, parts of the building exploded, making the ground shake.

"Quick! Through here!" Steve shouted, taking two steps at a time, and Bucky tried his best to keep up. They were so close. He could feel it.

"Captain America!" A voice shouted, stopping them. "How exciting!"

Steve lowered the girl to her feet, grabbing his shield from Bucky and taking a fighting stance.

When Bucky realized who the strange voice belonged to, he pulled the girl behind him, shielding her from view. It was him, the man who dragged her away all those days ago. Bucky couldn't tell then, but it was apparent now that he was a high-ranking officer. Perhaps the mastermind behind this whole operation. Zola stood next to him, cowering behind a large briefcase.

"I am a great fan of your films!" mocked Johann Schmidt. "So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive."

Steve and Schmidt were at arm's length, and the Captain did not hesitate to swing at Schmidt. The man stumbled back, clutching his face in surprise.

"You've got no idea," Steve huffed.

"Haven't I?" And Schmidt took a swing of his own, putting a fist-sized dent in Captain America's shield.

"Steve!" The girl screamed from behind Bucky.

The two began to fight, and Bucky had to keep her from running toward their friend. "He's got it," he told her; and he did.

Steve kicked Schmidt, sending him back a few feet, and Zola stepped forward. He pressed a button that collapsed the bridge Steve was on.

"No matter what lies Erskine told you," Schmidt exclaimed. "You see, I was his greatest success!" He peeled the skin off his face, revealing red flesh underneath.

"You don't have one of those, do you?" Bucky found himself asking, a bit dizzy from the incident. He held the girl tighter against him when she started shaking like a leaf.

Schmidt made a closing remark that went over Bucky's head, and he and Zola left. An explosion caused the trio to stumble, forcing Steve into action. "Come on, let's go. Up."

Bucky pulled the girl along, and they went up a floor, stopping in front of a metal beam.

"Let's go. One at a time," Steve urged, helping Bucky over the railing.

"What are you doing?" the girl shouted over the loud explosions.

"There's no other way!" Bucky told her. "Stay behind me."

Steve helped her over the railing next, and Bucky grabbed her.

"I can't!" she shook. "I'll fall."

Bucky pulled her close. "Don't look down. Why are you looking down? Look at me."

"No!"

"Yes! One step at a time, alright? Steve's right behind you." The beam quaked with every step, but Bucky did not slow down. He tossed the girl over the railing and leaped the rest of the way; right before the beam fell from underneath him.

Bucky's stomach dropped. There was no way for Steve to cross. "There's gotta be a rope or something!"

"Just go!" Steve cried. "Get out of here!"

"No! Not without you!"

Steve hesitated before backing up as far as he could and making a run for it. Bucky's stomach dropped, thinking Steve wouldn't make it, but then he emerged from the smoke and landed safely on his feet. The trio ran.

The half-moon was low in the sky when they made camp after two day's journey. It was late, and the prisoners were tired. Bucky made his rounds, checking the perimeter and the tents for anything suspicious.

The Battle of Azzanno was still fresh in his mind, and despite Steve's reassurances, Bucky could not let down his guard.

"How is she?" Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky didn't know the answer. "She won't talk to me," he said frustratedly. "She says she's fine, but I can see she isn't."

Steve sighed, having expected that answer. "And how are you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You both went through something traumatic." Steve grabbed Bucky's shoulder. "Talk it out, why don't you?" and left with a reassuring smile.

Bucky found the girl in one of the smaller tents, huddled in the corner for warmth.

"I was waiting for you," she admitted.

Bucky let a small smile grace his lips. They had come a long way. "Not too long, I hope."

"Very long," she rebutted. "I'm all cold."

Something in the girl's expression hinted at something deeper, something permanent. A rawness that she couldn't hide. It made Bucky's eyes burn. "Let me warm you up then." He fell to his knees and embraced her, holding her trembling body as tightly as he could.

The girl craned her neck and looked at Bucky with teary eyes. "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a second because he didn't know. Was he okay? He adjusted his hold until the girl was in his lap, snug against his front. "No, I'm not," he decided. "But as long as you're here, I will be."

Her hair was open, so Bucky put his forehead against the soft strands and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

The girl took a shuddering breath. "I—I was scared, and I—" She sobbed once, then twice. "No, I'm not okay!" And she began to weep. Agonizing sobs shook her entire body.

Bucky held on tight, whispering reassurances until, however long later, she eventually settled. "But I will be," she hiccuped.

The two sat silently for a while before she shifted to face him. Bucky wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady and caressed her face. "I love you," he whispered, leaning in until their noses brushed.

Her eyes pierced his, conveying all she felt, and she softened in his arms. "James."

And there was that damned name again. Bucky pulled her toward him, closing the small distance between their lips.

Oh, she was soft, putty under his skilled mouth. He groaned, pressing closer until the only thing separating them were clothes. "Sweetheart." He tasted her lips with his tongue, asking for permission which she swiftly granted.

"James," she whimpered against him, clawing at his jacket for purchase. They kissed until she became breathless, reluctantly pulling away with a moan to fill her lungs.

Bucky felt his heart beating out of his chest. "I'm here," he vowed, "I'm right here. Never leaving you again."

Her pleasure-stricken face met his with an intensity that left him more breathless than her lips had. "James, I love you."

And Bucky knew in his soul that all would be well. He took her lips once again, sealing his promise with a kiss.

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