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all-starry-eyed-again · 1 year

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dei sub numine viget

Chapter Two

TW for this chapter: minor sexual themes

Brooklyn, New York

March 1942

The harsh chimes of her alarm clock wake her up. She groans and hits the pin angrily. Her head is pounding and body is raw and sore from last night. She wants to roll over and go back to sleep for the rest of the morning, but she knows if she skips mass again, she will never hear the end of it from Mrs. Barnes. She throws her legs over the side of the bed and she nearly collapses when she tries to put weight on her torn up feet.

She looks at her discarded dress from the night before on the floor. There was no Benjamin around to fix it now. It didn't matter though, she was done with dating for a while. She reached into her closet and pulled out her most modest dress. It was black with long sleeves and a high collar, she did not need to draw any more attention to herself.

She quickly unrolled her hair and washed her face. Steve would be getting up soon and she did not want him to see the full extent of her bruising. She worked quicker than normal but paid special attention to the sickly purple blotches on her face.

Betty and Steve walked the six blocks over to St. Patrick’s. Steve was chatting to her about his night, but she was barely listening. After a few minutes Steve seemed to catch on and they fell into a comfortable silence. When they hear the nine o’clock bell start to chime, they pick up their pace and walk faster.

By the time they reach the doors they’re already late and have to slip into a half filled row in front of the Barnes’. The whole service she can feel Bucky’s eyes on the back of her neck and she knows neither of them are paying attention. She thinks about all the ways she can avoid having the conversation she knows is coming. She shifts uncomfortably on the pew several times, the cold wood biting into her skin.

When mass finally ends, Betty practically jumps out of her seat. Steve gives her a strange look and she hesitates, not wanting to call attention to herself. As the crowds begin to clear, she accidentally makes eye contact with Bucky but quickly looks at her shoes and practically dashes towards the entrance.

As soon as they walk out the doors, Becca immediately starts up a conversation with Steve. Betty wonders to herself if Bucky asked her to do this so he could talk to her alone without arousing suspicions. As she starts to walk down the sidewalk, she feels Bucky gently grab at elbow.

“Can we talk?” He whispers. She looks around to make sure they were sufficiently out of earshot from everyone else. “Sure.” She shrugs, trying to come across as nonchalant. They walk another few paces in silence before he breaks the tension between them.

“How are you feeling?” She knew this is not what he wanted to talk about. “I’m fine.” He gives her a stern look and she looks down at her shoes. “I’ve been better.”

They lapse into a tense silence again. "About what happened last night-" She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I'm sorry, I was out of my mind. I shouldn't have said any of that to you." He furrowed his brow and continued.

"No, I'm glad you told me that. I've been making an ass out of myself for months." He paused and took a shallow breath. "I had no idea how much you were dealing with. I've been such an idiot." He rubs his hands on the back of his neck and looks down. "I'm so sorry, for everything."

They're standing next to the gate outside of his house now. She can feel his mother's eyes watching them and she lowers her voice. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Bucky."

"Yes, I do! I've been misinterpreting things, Bette." She shakes her head. “It’s-it’s not that. There may be something between us but I’m just not sure if I’m ready for it to happen. I'm just really confused right now.” She looks down at her tightly clasped hands, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. She felt him put two fingers under her chin and he lifted her face up to meet his gaze.

"When you figure it out just promise me that you'll talk to me about it?"

"I promise." He drops his hand from her face and she misses the touch. He changes his tone then, "Now, let's get inside before my mother convinces herself that we're running away together." She rolls her eyes dramatically. Winnifred Barnes had never made it a secret that she thought that Bucky and Betty should be together. For a while she also tried to push Steve and Becca together as well but finally gave up after Becca had started going steady with Scott Proctor.

The house is eerily quiet when they enter. The only thing that could be heard was the static crackling of the radio which Mr. Barnes had insisted on keeping on every Sunday since Pearl Harbor. When they crossed over the threshold into the there was a sudden clattering of glass in the kitchen and then the whole house seemed to come alive again. Becca popped her head out of the kitchen and beckoned her over. Bucky gave her a sympathetic look but nothing was going to save her from the inquisition she was about to face.

Becca locked arms with Betty and leaned in to whisper, "What was that about? You two have mom in a tizzy!" Betty stopped herself from rolling her eyes again. "It was nothing! We were just talking."

Becca gave her friend a sharp look, "It didn't look like nothing. It very much looked like something."

Before Betty could respond to her friend's accusation, Becca took Betty's face in her hands and gently ran her fingers over the covered bruise on her face. "Oh my God Betty, what happened to you? I can't believe I didn't notice earlier!" Betty instinctively jerked her face away.

"It's nothing, it was a work accident." She shrugged but she knew Becca saw straight through her lie.

"I'm not stupid, Betty. What really happened?" Betty looked around the kitchen to make sure they were alone and lowered her voice. "I can't talk about it here." Becca nodded and took her hand and they made their way towards the back of the house and into Becca's bedroom.

It had been a few years since Betty had been in here and she was struck by how different it all looked. Gone were the piles of gossip magazines they used to browse through as teenagers, they were instead replaced with sensible shelves of books and neat boxes filled with makeup and jewelry .Becca grabbed her powder and they both sat down on the bed like they used to as children.

Becca began to very gently fix the makeup around her friend's face, Betty couldn't help but see the irony in the situation. She had always been the go to girl at work to help cover up the aftermath of abuse, and now here she was on the receiving end. Betty expected Becca to immediately start asking questions but she didn't, she waited for Betty to start talking. Betty let out a deep breath and began telling Becca the torid details of her two months with Frank Sheehan.

By the time she was done speaking, Becca was red with fury. Both of the Barnes children were famously hot headed. Becca having an even worse temper than her brother. "I'm so glad Bucky was there, Steve would have gotten himself killed! What did he say when you told him?"

Betty looked guiltily down at her hands. "I haven't told him and I wasn't planning on it." She looked over at her friend who was giving her a stern look.

“You shouldn’t keep secrets from Steve.” Betty felt a white hot pang of guilt in her stomach, Becca had no idea just how many secrets she was keeping from her older brother. Betty shrugs and averts her eyes. Becca opens her mouth to say something else but she is cut off by the sounds of her mother calling them into the kitchen. Becca shoots Betty a look to let her know that the conversation wasn’t over as they both make their way out of the bedroom.

“Where have the two of you been? I’ve been putting everything together myself!” Mrs. Barnes scolds gently. “Sorry ma, we were catching up!” Mrs. Barnes levels her with a look. “You see each other almost every week! You could at least talk while you’re setting the table.” She hands Becca a stack of plates and then turns and hands Betty silverware. “Yes, ma’am.” They both respond.

Then men are sitting in the next room listening to a radio program. Mrs. Barnes used to never allow them to listen to the news on Sunday but ever since Pearl Harbor, she had relaxed her rule. Suddenly the house is filled with the pounding of piano keys and the screeching of a brass band. Someone must have switched the dial to a new station. Becca’s eyes lit up with delight.

“I heard this one when I was out with Scott the other night! I learned this gas new dance as well.” She comes closer to Betty and starts showing her the steps. Betty can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they must look kicking and sliding around the dining room.

“Absolutely no jazz on Sunday!” They can hear Mrs. Barnes cried out from the next room. “It’s the sabbath!” Becca and Betty begin to laugh even harder as the radio dial is adjusted again and the sounds of gunshots and bad southern accents filled the house. Mrs. Barnes began to march into the living room before the station was finally changed to classical music. Bucky loved to push his mother’s buttons.

As they are sitting down for lunch Betty notices that Mrs. Barnes has seated her next to Bucky instead of her usual place next to Becca. She wants to roll her eyes but controls herself, clearly Winnie was trying to imply something about their conversation earlier. Betty reluctantly sits down and makes it her mission to try and steer the conversation as far away from that as possible.

Sunday lunch at the Barnes’ is always a pleasant affair. Although they have been coming for years, Betty always feels like a visitor to a menagerie. Even now it’s hard for her to conceptualize a family that not only wants to sit down together and eat, but also enjoys it. Her face must have been betraying her emotions because Bucky gently nudges her foot under the table and she snaps out of her glum thoughts. She looks over at him and smiles reassuringly.

When lunch is over, Betty helps Bucky with the dishes. Normally this is his and Steve’s job but Steve is having a heated discussion with Mr. Barnes about the upcoming baseball season. Betty’s heart jumps every time their fingers brush against each other beneath the murky dishwater and she wonders what is coming over her. Bucky leans over and tells her an off color joke he heard at the factory and Betty finds herself laughing a little too loud. She can feel the eyes of the house on her, but she refuses to turn around and acknowledge them. It was none of their business what was going on between them, and she has to remind herself that there is in fact nothing going on between them.

Bucky follows them home like he does most Sunday afternoons. He and Steve listen to the radio and chat while she sits on the sofa and tries to read her book. They make sandwiches for dinner and after they clear the plates, Steve pulls out a pack of cards from the cabinet and begins to shuffle the deck before passing out the cards.

She lays her hand down with a sly smile.

“You’re a dirty, rotten cheater, Bette.” Bucky points at her and says. “Remind me to never take you to a casino, you’d get us all killed.” She smiles sweetly at him, resting her head in the palm of her hand. “Maybe you’re just a sore loser, Barnes.”

“I know for a fact that you cheat, Betty.” Steve chimes in. She waves her hand dismissively.

“You caught me once, that hardly proves anything.”

“I got nothing.” Steve throws down his cards in defeat and shakes his head. “I’m going to bed.” He looks at both of them, expecting at least one of them to get up but they both remain in their seats. Bucky is reshuffling the cards and Betty is scooting them into a pile for him. “Goodnight Steve.” They both say without looking up and she hears his footsteps retreat into his room.

They both wait a full two minutes before he looks up at her and nods his head towards the door. She gets up in response and as quietly as she can, grabs her shoes and coat out of the closet. They tiptoe out the door and Bucky is careful to make as little noise as possible while shutting it. They descend down the stairs together and walk to their usual spot.

He leans against the brick wall of the building and pulls a pack of Lucky’s and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. He hands her one and she leans in close to the flame and inhales. He lights his own and they take a minute to just relax. This was a little routine they had started four years ago when Bucky had caught her sneaking out to smoke in the alley behind the apartment. He had scolded her, not for smoking, but for leaving the house at night alone. Her proposed compromise had been for him to go with her whenever either of them got the inclination. They had kept these outings a secret from Steve. They couldn’t do it around him, his lungs wouldn’t be able to handle it and he wouldn’t have approved anyways.

“I have to tell you something.” She can see there is a slight shake in his hands.

“What is it?” He takes a drag from the cigarette and closes his eyes.

“They called my number.” Her heart sank like a stone. “I have to report to the draft board by April ninth.” Her mouth went dry and she felt like she was going to throw up. “That’s only two weeks away!” He inhales deeply and nods.

“Bette, don’t tell Steve about this. I don’t want him to think I’m a coward or that I don’t want to…” He trails off but she understands his meaning. There were apparently a lot of things the two of them were keeping from Steve recently. She places a reassuring hand on his arm. “He doesn’t have to know anything until you’re ready.” He nods and takes a deep drag of the Lucky. She loops her arm through his and lays her head on his shoulder.

“You could always marry Connie.” He laughs but there isn’t any mirth behind it. “They don’t give those deferments anymore.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Besides, I’m not with Connie anymore.” She lifts her head off his shoulder and looks up at him. “Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and avoids her gaze. “It’s for the best. She was always complaining that I spent too much time with you and Steve.”

Betty rolls her eyes but jokingly says, “Well, have you tried spending less time with us?”

“Never.” He’s not joking around.

“It was probably a pretty hard sell to get a girl on board with dating a guy who’s codependent on two broke orphans.” Bucky just shrugs, his tone is serious when he speaks again. “You two are more important to me than any girl.” Betty finds herself blushing and feeling flustered at the honesty behind his words. They slip into an uncomfortable silence that’s only broken up when they both finish their cigarettes.

Betty has never dreaded the coming of spring before. As frost and snow melt away into warm breezes and sunny days, Betty can feel icy dread in her heart. Every day that goes by carries with it a sense of dread and foreboding, made worse by the fact she had no one to talk to about it. Steve still did not know about Bucky’s impending departure and Bucky refused to acknowledge it on the rare occasions that they were alone. He simply kept insisting he wanted to enjoy his remaining time at home instead of worrying about the future. Betty privately thought that she was carrying the burden of worrying for the both of them.

But it wasn’t just worry that she was feeling. There was something else that lurked in the background, rearing its head every time he was near her or when she caught herself daydreaming about him. She tried to ignore it first, she tried to think through it logically next but it wasn’t until three nights before he was set to leave that she finally understood what she was feeling.

As the night hours ticked away in her sleepless state the words suddenly washed over her. Oh, God. She thought to herself. I think I love him. There’s a warmth in the realization at first but it’s immediately followed by cold, biting guilt. She knew something had changed between them in the days and weeks since their conversation in the diner, but she had been so quick to try and shut him out again. It was becoming increasingly harder to be around him. Everytime he was near, she was torn between throwing her arms around him and kissing him and running as far away as possible.

After sitting up and taking several deep breaths, she resolved that she would not say anything to him before he left for England. How could she? He deserved to leave with a clear head and no attachments. All she had to do was get through the next three days.

Steve is gone when she wakes up on Saturday morning. She feels a sense of eerie calm settle over her. She finds herself going through the motions of her typical weekend routines. At eight-thirty she counts all the money in the tin they keep underneath the sink, this week they have twenty-seven dollars total. Satisfied, she marks it down in the ledger and then takes three dollars out for the shopping for the week. At nine-thirty she starts her cleaning routine, starting in the bathroom and nearly two hours later, ending in the living room. By noon she’s home from the store and putting the meager amount of groceries away. At two, she is attempting to force herself to read the book she picked up from the library but she is too anxious. She cannot seem to stop tapping her foot on the floor and looking up at the ancient clock next to the radio. A hundred questions were rushing through her mind, where was Steve and was she going to see Bucky again before he left?

Betty nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears the door swing open. The book hurdles to the ground as she jumps up from the faded yellow sofa. She rounds the corner to ask her brother where the hell he had been all day when she collided into Bucky in a well pressed dress uniform. He quickly puts his arm on her waist so she doesn’t fall backwards and they seem to stay in that position for just a moment too long. She thinks perhaps that he will lean down and kiss her but all too suddenly he realizes what he’s doing and lets his arm drop back down to his side awkwardly.

``Well you clean up well, sergeant.” He smirks and tips his service cap at her. Without thinking she reaches out and smooths the wrinkles out of the part of his uniform she collided with. The gesture suddenly feels too intimate, especially after her late night revelation earlier this week. Every part of her longs to tell him that she thinks she might love him, that she doesn’t want him to leave, but she doesn’t.

“Are you ready to go?” She gives him a questioning look. “What are you talking about?” He furrows his brows. “Didn’t Steve tell you? We’re going out to celebrate tonight.” She shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Steve all day! He didn’t leave a note so I just assumed he was with you.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him either, so I thought he was here with you. I told him yesterday and he was pretty upset.” His words are like a punch in the gut, her heart ached for her brother but she tries to lighten up the moment.

“Well honey, it sounds like we lost our kid.” She remarks sarcastically. “Well darlin’ let's call the search parties. He’s a ninety pound asthmatic, he couldn’t have gotten far.” He winks at her and she feels her cheeks flush pink.

“Before we go, I need to change.” She rushes out of the room, breaking up the tension that had started to grow between them again. She browses through her sparse closet before picking out two choices, one powder blue and the other a light rose. She walks out of her bedroom, one in each hand. “Which one do you like better?”

He scrutinizes them both for a moment before pointing to the pink one. She nods, then turns heel back into her room. She refreshes her makeup and hair quickly before pulling the dress on. To her dismay she can’t quite get the zipper all the way to the top, no matter how much she contorts her arms. She sighs in frustration before slipping into her heels and walking, embarrassed into the kitchen.

He stands as she walks in and his eyes settle on her for a bit longer than normal. “You look grea- you look beautiful Bette.” He tries to hide the fact that he stumbled over his words. “I need help with the back.” She tried not to sound as embarrassed as she felt. She turns around and lifts up her blonde hair. His fingers gently guided the zipper up her back, stopping just below the nape of her neck. He was standing so close, she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. She nearly cried out when he was finished. She had no idea what had gotten into her today, but suddenly his closeness made her want to do things she knew were wrong. Letting out a silent breath, she turned around and smiled at him.

“Ready?” He asks, holding his elbow out to her.

“Ready.” She nods and takes his arm.

As they walk down the rickety wooden stairs together, she suddenly realizes she doesn’t even know what they’re doing.

“Where are we going?” Bucky gives her a lopsided smile and she immediately becomes suspicious. “The Stark Expo.” She narrows her eyes as they round the bottom steps.

“So, let me get this straight. It’s your last night in New York and you want to spend it walking around the Stark Expo?” She stared at him like he had grown two heads. “I’m sorry, is it your last night out before going to war, Bette? When you get drafted, we’ll do whatever you want.” He quips back at her and she laughs.

“Now, where’s your brother?”

Unsurprisingly, they found Steve fighting behind the movie theater. Bucky tells her to wait at the entrance of the alley. She leans against the brick wall and waits for them to return.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” She hears Bucky yell before a man pops out of the alley and starts running in the opposite direction.

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” She smirks knowing that there was absolutely no way that was true. She listened as their footsteps got closer and then suddenly stopped midway to the entrance.

“How many times is this?” He pauses, “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

“You get your orders?” She can hear the hesitation in Steve’s voice. She wishes that Bucky had told Steve earlier but she had promised to keep his secret.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

“I should be going.”

“Come on, man. My last night! Betty is waiting for us just around the corner! Gotta get you cleaned up.” Their footsteps pick up again and they are practically to the entrance now.

“Why? Where are we going?” Steve asks.

“The future!” The two men exit the alley and she walks forward to join them. “Are you okay?” She softly touched his arm. He nods but doesn’t look at her.

The trio makes their way towards the subway.

“I cannot believe it’s your last night, you’re dragging us all the way out to Queens!” Bucky gives her a sarcastic smile. “I’m not dying, Bette. It’s not my last night ever.”

“Well, what if you do die and the last place you went in New York was Queens! I think St. Peter would turn you away for poor taste and bad judgement.”

“You know Betty, there are other places besides Brooklyn and Midtown, right?” Steve cuts in. Betty gives him a playful shove. “Sure, but are they really worth going to?”

As they make their way up the subway stairs, Bucky turns to Steve and throws him a guilty smile. “I may have invited someone here for you.” Steve raises his brows and throws Bucky a suspicious look. “Someone?”

“Okay, a date.”

“A date? I don’t really think that is necessary.” Steve retorts. Bucky rolls his eyes and claps Steve on the back. “Well even if this one doesn’t work out, it’s good practice! The city is about to empty out.”

“I would rather be going with you.” Steve sighs.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York. You know, there’s three and a half million women here!” Bucky slings his arm over Steve’s shoulders

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Betty’s heart constricts but she doesn’t say anything.

“Good thing I took care of that.” They approach a short blonde woman standing underneath a lamppost. Betty’s eyes snapped towards Bucky, he hadn’t mentioned this to her. The girl lights up when she sees Bucky and waves enthusiastically at them. Her smile dimns a bit when she sees Steve and Betty feels her anger flare.

“What did you tell her about me?”

“Only the good stuff.” He pats Steve on the back and then steps aside to let the two talk. Music starts playing overhead as they make their way to the main exhibition. They let Bonnie and Steve walk a few paces ahead of them.

“Where’s your date, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Why would I need a date when I have the prettiest girl in Brooklyn-”

“Second prettiest!” She corrects him.

“Fine, I have the second prettiest girl in Brooklyn with me.”

She crosses her arms and feigns outrage. “Well this doesn’t seem like much of a date Sargeant! I expected better from the United States Army.”

“Damn, where are my manners?” He pauses and holds his arm out to her. Without hesitation she takes and they continue walking. They spend a few minutes just looking around taking it all in. Bonnie pulls them all over to the stage where Howard Stark himself is standing in front of a brand new Cadillac.

“Ladies, you know how hard it can be putting on makeup in a car that’s bouncing like a kangaroo on a trampoline…” Betty rolls her eyes and Bucky gives her a playful nudge. “What if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile wouldn’t touch the ground at all?”

Betty scrunches her nose in disbelief. “This guy is full of hot air.”

“Have a little faith, Bette. Stark is a genius.” He whispers back as Stark pushes down on a large red button and the car rises off the ground. Betty drops her jaw in shock.

“Holy cow.” Bucky exclaims.

“With Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology, patent pending, you’ll be able to do just tha-” He’s cut off by a loud pop and suddenly the car comes crashing down. Betty jumps back, nearly knocking into Bonnie. Bucky puts an arm around her waist but this time doesn’t remove it.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Stark laughs as the audience bursts out in applause.

“I told you so.” She poked him in the side jokingly.

“You better hope he’s not full of it. His tech is going to be the only thing between me and those goddamn krauts in a few weeks.” He says it as a joke but suddenly the smile wipes off her face and she stiffens. “C’mon Bette, I’m just joking around.” She flashes him an insincere smile. “That’s the spirit! This is supposed to be a fun night.”

“If it’s supposed to be fun, what are we doing in Queens?” He groans and turns his head around to say something but just Bonnie stands behind them. “Where did Steve go?” Bonnie shrugs and begins to walk off.

“Real nice girl you found for him.” Betty watches her walk towards a group of GIs on the other end of the stage. “Maybe asking Connie’s roommate wasn’t my best idea but it was last minute!” Betty raises an arched eyebrow at him.

“Bonnie has a roommate named Connie?” Bucky laughed and said, “Yeah, it was pretty damn confusing to call, I could never tell who I was talking to-” He stops and looks off in the distance. “Oh Christ on a cross.” He mumbles to himself. She follows his gaze and sees Steve standing outside the army recruitment tent. Without saying anything they quickly walk over before Steve can enter. Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re kind of missing the point of a date. Come on, I gotta find a jazz joint to take your sister before she reminds me one more time that she hates Queens.” Without looking up at them, Steve shakes his head. “You two go ahead.”

“Steve-” Betty says softly but Bucky cuts her off.

“You’re really gonna do this now?” She can tell there’s some hurt in his voice.

“It’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve shrugs but Bucky continues. “As who? “Steve from Ohio”? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Steve looks at Bucky with a grim smile of disappointment.

“You don’t think I can do it.” Betty could feel the tension rising between the two best friends.

“This isn’t some back alley, Steve. It’s a war. Why are you so keen to fight?” Betty can sense the words that Bucky isn’t saying and she wants to put her arms around him, but she stops herself.

“Steve,” Betty interjects as gently as she can, “There are other ways to help the war effort that don’t involve carrying around a ten pound gun. There are so many important jobs-”

But Steve is having none of it and snaps back. “You want me to sit in a factory? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon while the men are laying down their lives? I can do as well as them and I got no right to do any less.” Betty shifts, suddenly feeling uncomfortable standing between them as Steve continues on. “That’s the thing you don’t get, Bucky. It’s not about me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and retorts, “Right. ‘Cause you’ve got nothing to prove.”

Steve says nothing to this accusation and a tense moment passes between them before Betty breaks up the silence. “Come on Sarge, let’s go have some fun before it gets too late.” She turns back to Steve, "And I'm not paying your bail if you get arrested this time!" Betty tried to sound stern but it was a lie and they all knew it. This gets a small smile out of Steve and Bucky slings his arm across her shoulder like he did to Steve earlier.

"Alright, let’s go Bette." Steve turns to walk into the tent but suddenly Bucky turns around and shouts, “Promise me you won’t do anything too stupid before I get back.” And with that the tension was gone and the anger dissipated between the two men. Bucky’s expression softened and became playful again.

“I can’t. You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve responds.

“You’re a punk!” Bucky shouted while walking backwards towards the exit.

“You’re a jerk!” Steve yelled back. “Don’t win the war until I get there!” Then he turns and walks towards the desk. She gives one last sidelong glance at her brother as he retreats further into the medical exam tent. She has a nagging feeling that she should go after him and tell him to stay, to go with them to the dance, but she brushes it off and walks forward.

"They won't take him right? The army isn't that desperate yet?" She tries to mask any anxiety seeping into her voice. Bucky squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

"You know I love Steve but that dork can't run ten yards without passing out. There's no way he's fit enough to get through the first week of basic." She lets out a breath and smiles. Despite his reassurance her gut is still telling her to turn around, to stop him. She almost calls out his name but there's no way he would hear her from this far away, not in this crowd.

"I'm sure he will make use of himself here. There are plenty of jobs, great jobs, he can do without getting himself blown up somewhere in France." She nods and decides this is the last time she wants to talk about the war tonight. He leads her back down the stairs towards the subway entrance and she stops, confused.

“Where are we going? The USO dance is back that way.” She gestures back towards the Expo.

“Do you really think I want to take you to a room full of squirrly draftees on their last night stateside? You’re an absolute knockout, Bette. I’ll spend half the night beating them off you.” She smirks, “Aren’t you a squirrly draftee on his last night stateside?” He puts his hands over his heart and dramatically walks away from her. “Well, at least I’m better looking than those bunch of knuckleheads.” She squints her eyes and leans back to appraise his appearance. She puts her fist underneath her chin and says, “Hmm I’m not sure, I may want to take my chances back there.”

“Aw come on, doll. You’re the one who wanted to get out of Queens! Don’t make me carry you there.” Privately, she thinks she would very much like that. “Oh, alright.” She strides back over to where he was standing, not wanting to be too far away from him for too long.

“Besides, the USO doesn’t sell booze.” He says as they descend the concrete stairs. “Well, now you’re speaking my language.” He pokes her in the side, “Everyone in Brooklyn knows that you have two left feet until you’ve had two Manhattans.” Her painted red lips curl in a contemptuous smile.

“It can’t be that bad.” She shoots back.

“My toes would disagree. They’re still recovering from Becca’s birthday last year.” Betty remembers that night well. She had found out the day before that her boyfriend Harry was married and she was in a foul mood. She had tried her best to hide it from Becca but it wasn’t until Bucky arrived that she was cajoled out of her bad mood. By the time they had left, she had completely forgotten about Harry.

He brings her to a jazz club in one of the wealthier neighborhoods near the park. “This is a nice place for Brooklyn.” She remarks sarcastically. “Maybe you just don’t know where to go in Brooklyn.” He retorts.

As promised, Betty drinks two cocktails before she allows herself to be coaxed onto the dance floor. She still isn’t a great dancer but the gin and tonics loosens her up and gives her some liquid courage. She knocks back a third about an hour later to try and force herself to stop thinking about kissing him.

It doesn’t work.

The more they twist and turn around the dance floor, the more her heart aches but she knows she has to keep it hidden from him. This was supposed to be a fun night, he had told her earlier. Finally the band announces they are doing their final set.

She can feel his body pressed tight against hers, she can hardly breathe. The night is growing old and they watch as more and more dancers leave the club. She realizes then how desperately she’s holding onto every minute. She doesn’t want him to go, this is the day she’s been silently dreading for weeks. A pit forms in the bottom of her stomach as the bartender announces last call. Bucky leans in and whispers in her ear, “I think it’s time to go.” She can hear the reluctance in his voice too, but there’s nothing that can be done now.

The whole way home she’s at war with herself. She recalls their conversation in the diner last winter, when she told him they could never be together. That was before, she thinks. Before he drafted, before they all started hurtling towards an unknown precipice. I don’t want to lose him, it’s the only indulgent thought she allows herself in that moment.

I think I love him.

She once again tries to reason with herself, tries to be rational. Hadn’t she been the one who rejected him? Hadn’t she been the one to tell him that they could never have a future together? Hadn’t she been the one to encourage him to move on? She figured it was completely unfair of her to declare her feelings, whatever they may be, for him on his last night stateside. She was being selfish, he deserved a clean break.

He walked her back to her apartment building in complete silence, neither of them daring to break the tension that was clearly growing between them. Every step she took closer to her home, the more she felt he was slipping away.

And then they were standing in front of the door.

The lights were all off so she knew that Steve wasn’t home yet. It was just them alone, for one more precious moment. She stands with her back to the doorframe, facing him, completely frozen in fear.

“Well-” he pauses, not really sure what to say to her. “I suppose this is it. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” He rubs the back of his neck, unsure what to do next. “Before I go, I just wanted to tell you something. I know you said that it was never going to happen but-”

She’s not listening, instead she pushes up on her tiptoes and kisses him. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to do it but once she started kissing him, she couldn’t stop. He’s stunned at first, of course, but he quickly responds. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her in, so there is barely any space between them. It does not take long for the kiss to become more heated.

His hands are running up her arms. Then they are tangled in her hair. Finally they’re on the back of her neck, pulling her in closer.

He pulls away.

Maybe she’s crossed a line, maybe he wanted to tell her he didn’t want her anymore. Maybe-

“Bette,” He smiles as he says her pet name. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” She gently grabs him by his khaki tie and pulls him back in towards her. “Then don’t wait any longer.” She kisses him again.

Betty has been kissed many times in her life, none of them have ever felt like this. Sister Bernadine would have described this feeling as the fires of hell burning within her, but she likes the warmth of it.

This time she’s the one who pulls away. “Do you want to come in?” She has never been this bold before. “Are you sure?” She looks at him pointedly and nods. She’s not sure who this girl is, but she’s starting to like her.

It takes her several attempts to unlock the door, she’s distracted first by his hands around her waist, and then by him kissing the back of her neck. She nearly yelps and drops her keys. Finally they are tumbling inside the small apartment. As soon as the door is shut and locked, he’s kissing her again, more aggressively this time. She feels her hips hit the edge of the kitchen table and she jumps up slightly to sit on it. He seems to like this because he takes the opportunity to step between her slightly parted legs.

She feels warmth spreading across her body and she’s filled with a sensation she’s never felt before. She feels his hands tightly grip her hips, pulling them closer towards him. If any other man had tried something this fresh with her, she would have slapped him across the face. But at this moment, she never wants him to stop. Eventually, he pulls back from her again. He rests his forehead against hers.

“Bette, is this a good idea?” There is a tinge of worry weaved into the lust in his voice.

She shrugs. “I have no idea, but I know I don’t want to stop.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs to continue. His hands keep exploring her body but never quite touching the areas she wants him to. She kicks off her shoes and delicately moves off the table and pulls him away. He gives her a questioning look but before he can say anything she’s leading him towards her bedroom.

As soon as the door closes, he has her hiked up against the wall. It sends a shiver of excitement up her spine. She wraps her legs around his waist. His hands are now firmly grasping her ass, she is pulled tight against him. She can feel his excitement pressed against her leg and suddenly she’s feeling nervous as well. He gingerly lowers back down on the ground.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t.” She stops, feeling embarrassed. “It’s just that I- I have never done this before. Have you?” He raises his eyebrows at her, mortification washing across his face. “Uh yes, only a couple of times though.”

“Good, at least one of us knows what they’re doing.” She laughs but he gives her a serious look.

“Bette…”

“Do you not want to?” He scoffs at this.

“Of course I do! I just want to make sure that you're sure? Absolutely sure?” he implores.

“I am absolutely sure.”

She pushes his jacket off his shoulders, it hits the ground with a sturdy thump. She then works on his tie, it’s harder to do with his lips working their way up and down her neck but she eventually gets it off. She feels him working on the buttons on the back of her dress. Despite their rush, he’s being especially delicate with the dainty buttons. He finally gets through all of them and she shrugs the gown off. She’s standing in front of him in just her lingerie now. He takes a moment just to look at her.

“You are so beautiful, Bette.” He runs his hands down her hips.

“Please, you’ve been me in a bathing suit before. That’s a lot more revealing than this getup is.” She gestures to her brassiere and girdle. He laughs at this. “Yeah, but that was in public, I didn’t want your brother or my sister to see me staring at you. But believe me, I wanted to.” He winked at her. She blushes a deep red, he really knew how to make her flustered.

He takes her hand and leads her to bed. Her nerves are nearly shot with anticipation. The back of her legs hit the edge of the mattress. She decides that he’s wearing too many clothes, feeling bold she began to tug on his shirt. He swiftly worked on the buttons before practically ripping the garment off his body. He leans down and kisses her deeply, she grasps his bare arms then runs her fingers across his skin.

She feels his tongue brush against her bottom lip and she smiles into the kiss. He runs his hands from hips, past her waist, and rested them right beneath the band of her brassier. She could tell he was nervous, there was a slight shake in his hands. She took his hands and slid them to the clasps in the back. She feels him fumbling with the hooks. He accidently snaps it against her skin.

She giggles and he stops what he’s doing. “You making fun of me, Bette?” She laughs again, “I thought you were supposed to be the expert here?”

He puts his hands in the air, “I never claimed to be an expert.” She reaches behind her and unhooks it herself. He raises his eyebrows at her. “How’d you do that so fast?”

“Trade secret, sergeant.” It’s his turn to laugh now. He puts a finger under her chin and tilts her face up towards his. “You’ll have to share your expertise next time.” He leans down to kiss her. Her heart skips a beat at his words. So he thinks there’ll be a next time.

She shrugs off her brassiere and stands awkwardly in front of him, she has never been in such a vulnerable position before. He stares at her for just a few moments too long before snapping back into his senses. He’s kissing her again and his hands slowly trail up her ribcage until they finally reach the place that she is silently begging him to touch. She sighs into his mouth and that encourages him further.

He very gently pushes her down on top of the bed and her anxiety flares. The next thing she knows, he’s on top of her. She tries to spread her legs to accommodate him but her girdle doesn’t allow her to go very far. He’s hovering above her, kissing her neck and collar bone. He leaves a blazing pathway down across her breasts, stomach, and down her right thigh. He unclasped her nylon with his teeth and she let out a breathy sigh. He looked up at her, clearly smug about this trick. He kisses the top of her thigh then smooths the stocking down her leg and tosses it aside. He started working on her left thigh and she doesn't think it's possible for her to be more aroused.

She gently pulls his face back up toward hers and with all the confidence she can muster tells him, “I’m glad it's you.” She hoped he understood her meaning. He grins from ear to ear but doesn’t say anything. She pulls him into a heated kiss. Betty trails her hands down his chest and down his stomach. Finally her hands are unclasping his belt and working on the button.

It’s then that Betty hears the unmistakable sound of keys turning in the deadbolt.

“Oh my God it’s Steve.” She pushes him off of her harder than she meant to. He nearly goes tumbling off the bed. She starts to gather his clothes up in her arms and she throws them in his direction. She mouths at him to get in the closet and he complies. She grabs her robe off the chair and haphazardly throws it on. As she hears Steve's footsteps near her room, she dives into her bed as quietly as she can. There’s a soft knocking at her door.

“Betty? You home?” There’s an excitement in Steve's voice that piques her curiosity but she feigns sleep. He opens the door slightly, letting harsh light spill into the dark room. She peaks one of her eyes open and sees Bucky’s service cap lying in the middle of the floor. She curses herself for missing it and prays that Steve doesn’t notice. He only lingers in the doorway for a few moments before quietly closing the door and walking away. Betty holds her breath until she hears the pipes rattle and shake and the sound of running water.

She jumps out of bed and tip toes over to the closet. He’s halfway dressed by the time she opens the door. She can see he’s holding back laughter. “Well that was absolute rotten timing.” He whispers. She stands awkwardly while he gets redressed in front of her. As he’s pulling on his jacket, she retrieves his service cap and places it on top of his messy hair.

“How are we getting you out of here?” She murmurs.

“Fire escape.” He points towards her window.

They stand in front of each other for a beat before she throws her arms around his neck and just hugs him firmly. She laid her head on his chest and heard the faint rhythm of his heartbeat. She wishes they could stay like this forever, safe within the four walls of her room, no war looming in the background of their lives. He rubs small circles into the small of her back and lays a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I should go.” He makes no move to detangle himself from her embrace. She holds onto him for just a little longer before reluctantly letting go. He unlatches the window and as quietly as he can he opens it. The room is filled with the sounds of the street below. He climbs out onto the wrought iron platform.

“Bucky, wait!” He pops his back through the open window. She rushes over to her bedside table and opens the top drawer. In a small wood box, she pulls out a necklace. Turning back to the window, she presses the gold pendant into his hand.

“This was my grandmother’s Miraculous Medal.” He runs the pad of his thumb over the image of the Holy Mother. “I’m only letting you borrow it, you have to come home and bring it back to me.” He smiles at her meaning. He leans forward and captures her lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else, Bette.”

Betty sleeps fitfully that night, her dreams filled with blue eyes and scruffy brown hair. She knows it's sinful but she can’t help recalling the feeling of his lips on hers and his hands on her on her bare skin. She replays the events of the night over and over in her head and shyly wonders what it would have been like if Steve hadn’t come home and interrupted them. She is burning with desire.

Betty is finally able to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning and nearly sleeps through her alarm. When she realized the time, she jumped out of bed, not wanting to miss Bucky before he left. She raced through her morning routine and was out of the door in record time. Although it’s not a terribly far distance to the shipyard, she knows that the streets will be overflowing.

Thousands of people were packed into the docks, all trying to fight their way to the front to see their soldier off. Betty felt herself being pushed and pulled by the crowd as she fought her way towards the troopship she knew that Bucky would be on. Her heart started racing and she feared that she would be too late and miss him. As she started to push her way to the left she felt someone grab her arm and she looked over to see Mrs. Barnes.

“I’m so happy you’re here, sweetheart.” Mrs. Barnes smiled at her, there were tears in her eyes. Becca was standing on the other side of her mother, back turned to Betty. She peered her head around Becca to see Bucky and his father having a tense discussion. She couldn’t hear what was being said over the roar of the crowd but she could tell it was emotional. She looked away from the scene, feeling like she was intruding on a private moment.

Becca turns toward her mother with tears in her eyes and hugs her tightly. She’s pushing away the droplets with the back of her hand when her eyes meet Betty’s. Becca sends her a sad smile then reaches out her hand and takes Betty’s in her own. It’s then that Bucky turns towards her and a smile breaks across his face. He looks at his mother and sister and they both nod. He struggles through the crowd and tries to push his way over to where Betty is standing.

Bucky leans down and whispers in her ear, “I’m glad you came, I wasn’t sure you would after last night, but I’m glad you did.” Betty flushes pink. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” She whispers back. They both glance over to see Becca staring at them, but she quickly diverted her eyes.

He pulled her away from his family and they all politely looked away. He leans down and kisses her and she lets him. When he pulls away, he leans his forehead against hers, their noses touching. “When I come home, I’m going to marry you, Elizabeth Rogers.”

She laughs softly but doesn’t pull away. “How about you focus on coming home in one piece and then we’ll renegotiate?” Her heart is beating quickly against her chest. “Fine, when I come home in one piece, then I’m going to marry you Elizabeth Rogers.”

“We’ll see about that, James Barnes.” But she reaches up to cradle his face in her hands and then rocks up on her tiptoes and kisses him. They pull away from each other and in the distance she can see that they are boarding the troopship. He grabs her hand and they make their way back over to his family. Despite her tears, Mrs. Barnes is smiling, her approval written all over her face. Betty feels her face burning with embarrassment, regardless, she refuses to let go of the death grip she has on his hand. Even as he says his final goodbyes to his family, she holds on tightly. When he finally turns back to her she launches herself into his arms. He wraps his arms around her and she can feel him lifting her off the ground. When he finally puts her back down, she can hear in the distance officers barking orders for everyone to start boarding.

They are now being forced apart by the crowd and she can feel his fingers begin to dislodge from her own. She can tell he is trying to yell something to her but she can’t hear him over the roar of the crowd. Finally, they are completely separated. She watches as he melts away into a sea of khaki and greens and then he is finally gone. She stands completely still as the crowd begins to thin around her.

The Invisible Man places a cold hand on her shoulder and for a moment she is tempted to give in and let the tears fall from her eyes. A fog horn blares in the distance and she is quickly pulled out of her self indulgent thoughts. She pushes the tears back and turns to find Barnes'.

Becca finds her first, although there are still tears in her eyes, she smiles at Betty. “What was that about?” Betty tries to play coy. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Becca.” Becca nudges her in the ribs. “I just saw you smooching my brother!”

“Okay, well maybe something happened last night…It all happened so fast, one minute he was dropping me off at home and the next we were kissing.” Betty flushes at the memory and Becca raises her expressive eyebrows.

“So you kissed?” Betty darts her eyes towards Mrs. Barnes and lowers her voice significantly. “Maybe we did a little bit more than kiss.” Becca’s eyes open as wide as saucers.

“Elizabeth Rogers! Did you and my brother... Did you two...I can’t believe that you two…” Becca stumbles over her words, never quite able to say what she meant to say. She scrunches her face with mock disgust.

“Lower your voice!” She whispers aggressively at her friend. “We didn’t do that but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Steve came home before anything serious happened and I had to sneak Bucky out my window.” Becca stops in her tracks, causing several people to almost crash into her.

“Oh my goodness, Betty!” She puts her hands over her mouth. “You love him. You love Bucky.” She takes Becca by the arm and forces her to walk forward before they cause a scene. “Come Becca, it was just some kissing before he went off to war, I’m sure he’ll forget all about it when he gets to England.” Becca waves her hand in dismissal.

“Please, everyone knows he’s been in love with you for years. Mom will be thrilled when he finally officially tells her. You know she tried to give him our grandmother’s engagement ring last night.” Now it’s Betty’s turn to be shocked.

“What?” She has to laugh because she doesn’t know how else to react. “She practically shoved it in his jacket pocket when he said he was taking you out to dance. Just in case, she said.” Becca and Betty both burst into a fit of laughter at the absurdity of the image.

“Girls, hurry up!” Mr. Barnes hollers at them.

They pile into the Barnes’ Studebaker and she presses her face against the glass until she can no longer see the troopship. Brooklyn blurs into brownstones and concrete as they speed down the road. Mrs. Barnes’ asks if she wants to come over for dinner, curiosity and sadness tingeing her voice. Betty politely declines, all she wants is to curl up in her bed and try not to think about Bucky sailing thousands of miles away from her.

Betty unlocks the front door and to her surprise Steve is sitting at the kitchen table with a pile of neatly folded clothes placed next to him. He looks up at her, his expression unreadable.

“We need to talk.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #marvel fanfic series #historical au #wwii au #steve rogers

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lokislastlove · 2 years

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In Memoriam (Dark! Steve, Bucky & Sam x Reader) 8

Summary: After the death of your grandmother you make a trip to visit her old estate, and you discover it may be more trouble than it’s worth.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, ghosts, smut, bondage, thigh riding, spanking, rough sex, oral sex, over stimulation, mentions of death, allusions of abuse. 18+ only peeps, it’s obviously dark.

Notes: well this started as a tiny idea for @charmed-asylum ‘s bingo challenge! (Congrats, love. You’re amazing!) and it kinda spiraled into this craziness. Also there is a surprise guest, but I don’t feel like giving it away so… hope you enjoy! ❤️

Chapter 8:

Quietly, you slip out of bed, the intricate metal frame croaking as it shifts, and you tiptoe around the room. You scavenge for the warmest clothes you can find that don’t weigh you down then make your way over to the armoire. A quick peek out the window shows the sky starting to change, the dawn of a new day under an hour away.

You tug open the mirrored cabinet door and peek inside the dark empty space. With a tentative hand you reach to feel gently along the seems of the back panel before pressing your fingertips to the center of the polished wood. It creaks softly at the pressure but doesn’t budge.

With a huff you use both hands to press on the back of the wall and feel it shift slightly. Another push and the door flies open, making you fall forward with a loud clatter in the otherwise silent room.

“Shit,” you whisper as you rub your stinging elbow, likely just a bruise.

You wave away the dust from your face as you blink in the darkness. Your eyes are slow to adjust as you take in the triangular room, little more than a crawl space between the wall of your room and the slanted roof. It’s cold and the damp floor wobbles under your weight.

With a stroke of luck, your hand passes over a cool plastic cylinder and you grip it tight as you recognize it’s purpose. You search for the button with an inexplicable familiarity and the flashlight clicks to life, illuminating the secret hideout in a dull yellow light.

To the left is a dead end, scattered remnants of moth-eaten old blankets and piles of molding stuffed animals. What was once a cozy safe-haven has been transformed into a chilling reminder of happier times. Your heart warms at the memories that resurface as you take in your childhood refuge. How could you have forgotten this?

To the right, however, is a dark path of rotting wood boards, loosely laid across the solid framing and brickwork. It’s your only hope and with a deep breath you begin crawling along the shaky planks, careful not to make too much noise.

You can see where the rooms transition and without thinking you hold your breath as you sneak past the room Steve had claimed. You know they have super hearing, you just hope the wall is thick enough to mask your heartbeat, or better yet, that he remains asleep.

You pass his room without notice and the tunnel turns to the left. A light breeze tickles your face and your heart beats hopefully as you find a round vent cover in the slanted roof. You set down the flashlight and press against the vent. After a few hard pushes it pops free, unfortunately falling outward and scratches loudly down the shingled roof.

Your ears ring in the following silence as you strain to hear any commotion or signs they may have noticed, but after a minute of nothing you pull yourself up through the hole. You let out a soft hiss as the your hip catches on something sharp as you squeeze through.

The roof is damp with the night fog as it turns to morning dew and you gently let yourself slide down to the edge. There is a patio below the roofline, if you can just lower yourself down without incident you should be in the clear.

Your foot catches the gutter and you let out a relieved breath as you adjust your footing. One by one you lower your legs, then your hips, until you ease your whole body over the edge. Dangling precariously, you kick your feet, toes searching desperately for the railing to support you as your fingers threaten to slip.

“Yes,” you breath as your feet find the flat railing and you boldly let go of the gutter.

You stumble slightly as you hop down to the patio, thankful to make it without too much noise or injury. A quick peek through the window assures you the inside remains dark and lifeless. Hope after all.

You turn and sneak off the patio, tiptoeing around the particularly treacherous mud traps and rush for your car. The door is locked and you grit your teeth. You either sneak back inside in hopes to find your keys… or you make a run for it on foot. Both plans have serious risk-factors.

Your decision is made for you when you hear a soft whirling noise, getting closer and closer. Something hovers in your peripherals and you turn to see a red and silver drone bobbing in the brightening sky above you.

Your eyes widen as it watches you and speaks with a familiar voice, “looks like someone has been a busy bee this morning.”

“Shit,” you squeak as you push off your car and sprint toward the road leading back to the highway.

Your sneakers splash through the mud as you leap over tree roots and thorny vines. The drone tails you easily in the wide path and you veer off the road into the vegetation, hoping to lose it in the trees.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” Sam’s voice calls from the drone as it darts between the trees.

Your breaths get heavier in your exhaustion as you push away the twigs and brambles poking out from the tall brush. You grunt and push aside another vine that catches and tears at your skin. Does every plant have to have fucking thorns?

You cry out in pain as your foot hits a rock and your ankle wobbles with a inaudible crack. The soft earth and ferns break your fall as you clutch your ankle. You sob as the drone lowers itself to your eye level and you swing at it angrily.

“Get away from me!” you growl, tears streaming down your face.

“I tried to warn you,” Sam sighs through the speaker.

“Fuck you, just let me go!”

“So you can hobble through the woods and get eaten by a bear?”

“Better a bear than you fuckers,” you snarl as you try to stand.

“Bucky is on his way. He’s already pissed you woke him up from his beauty sleep. So I’d recommend playing nice when he gets there.”

You scan the trees nervously as you limp around the massive trunk to hide yourself. A branch snaps in the distance and you squeeze your eyes closed as you tremble in fear. Another stomp closer and you hear Bucky growl angrily.

“Did you really think this was going to work?”

You shake uncontrollably at the sound of his gruff voice. He’s furious and your mind takes you back to that night not even a week ago. His hands wrapped right around your throat, the bruises of which still color your skin. The thought of going back to that makes you wish you could grow wings and fly away like the birds chirping in blissful ignorance around you.

Your lungs scream as you hold your breath and his footsteps grow silent. The quiet lingers, even the animals seem to disappear as the tension threatens to suffocate you. You open your eyes and see the drone gone, no sign of anything, which makes you wonder if you are dreaming or, more likely, dead.

Blinking, you let out a shaky breath, heart thundering against your ribs. You lean over to peek around the tree bark, the distant woods becoming more visible as the sun threatens to break the horizon.

“Gotcha,” Bucky whispers from behind you, slapping his hand over your mouth when you scream in surprise.

He chuckles as he stands and lifts you from the soft forest floor, one hand around your ribs and the other muffling your furious pleas. You kick out, hoping to knock him off balance but he just laughs, your efforts dying quickly due to the pulsing in your ankle.

“I respect your bravery, it takes balls to fight back,” he acknowledges as he marches you back to the house. “But to try and run when we were all just starting to get along?” He tuts and brushes his nose along the shell of your ear. “That hurts, doll.”

You cringe and shake your head, the outline of the mansion already visible through the hazy tree line. The likelihood of escape after this stunt dwindles even further as Bucky takes you to your grandparents old bedroom, the large four poster bed sitting grandly in the center of the room.

He releases you so that you fall face first on the bed, your jaw aching from his firm grip. He grabs your ankles and you scream at the blinding pain as he turns you and pulls apart your legs. Sam enters the room with a handful of ropes and you yell hopelessly as they bind you to the bed.

“Not that one,” Sam insists when Bucky grabs your injured leg. “I’ll wrap it first.”

“Why?” Bucky scoffs.

“Just leave it, Bucky,” Sam sasses and Bucky leaves the room with a huff.

The door slams behind him and you are left in the room with Sam who sits quietly on the edge of the bed with a disappointed expression. He stands up and pulls a knife from his back pocket, twisting it slightly in his hands and smirking at the way you cower away from him.

You pull against your bonds and mutter “no” repeatedly until he hushes you with a soft smile.

“Calm down,” he chuckles. “I think you’ve done enough damage to yourself for one day.”

You still as he grips the hem of your pants and slices slowly up the leg, cutting away your sweatpants. He does the same with your other leg, followed by your sweatshirt and shirt until you are left in your underwear.

“Quite the little adventure, huh?” He inquires as he gently observes your swollen ankle and tuts at the shallow cuts on your hip, hands and face.

You hiss through your teeth as he wraps some sort of gadget around your foot and it blasts your skin with some kind of cold vapor. You feel a light prick of an injection and the pain lessens almost instantly. He scans it with his high tech wrist watch and tuts at the screen of his touch pad.

“Yup, you got a little hairline fracture. Gotta wrap it and keep it elevated.”

Sam talks to you calmly as he wraps your ankle in soft bandages to alleviate the swelling, even with the local anesthetic it hurts to move it. You pull against the ropes as you try to find someway to make this less painful and humiliating. Sam finishes and runs his fingers up your legs, making you gasp and flinch away from him only to cry out when you accidentally tweak your foot.

“Try not to exert yourself… doctors orders,” he winks as he stands, collects his supplies from the bed, and moves toward the door. “Be back to check on you.”

You clench your jaw as he gives you another slow once over with a smirk, eyes twinkling at your vulnerable position. He’ll be back soon, you’re sure of it. Every day just keeps getting worse and worse, hopefully someone comes looking for you soon or else these men really will be the death of you.

Tagging: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen @queenoftheworldisdead @threeminutesoflife @buttercupfangirl @needleandhammer @emberenchanted @thiskindahotkindamusic @lokiswildheartcantbebroken @patzammit @maluisamarvelfan123 @cjand10 @a-hoe-for-marvel

#dark fic #in Memoriam #dark Steve Rogers #dark Steve x reader #dark Bucky Barnes #dark Bucky x reader #dark Sam Wilson #dark Sam x reader

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maxburnett · 3 years

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Summer Heat, Steve Rogers Part 2 Here

- (fem!reader x Steve Rogers)

Summary: It's a hot summer day and when you stop for a popsicle and are eating it in front of Steve he can't control his Language anymore. For @syntheticavenger's 5K Follower Challenge

Warnings: Contains Smut! 18+ only minors do not interact! Includes Oral (69), Face Riding, Slight Praise Kink (?), cockwarming if you squint, Steve has a dirty mouth, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE CAP, Ending you won't see coming (?)

Word Count: 2,734 (I Went Over Jail For Me)

How It Started

It was so hot outside, the blistering sun had been shining for the past few days, and you felt like you were going to melt. You were sitting in the shadow of a tree as Steve ran up, flopping down beside you, rubbing a hand up his face as sweat dripped down his forehead.

"It's too damn hot," he sighed, leaning his head back against the tree and tilted his head sideways to look at you.

"Language, Rogers," you said with a smirk as you looked up at him with soft eyes. "I swear to God I feel like I'm going to melt," you laughed. You pull at your shirt as if trying to fan your body with it, and he turns his head as he watches a bead of sweat run from your neck down into your cleavage. Luckily, you didn't notice. He turns his head back as you smile up at him, his blue eyes studying your face.

"What'cha thinkin' 'bout, Stevie?" You playfully punch his arm with a laugh.

"Nothing," he said and averted his gaze as he stood up. "C'mon, we should head back to the compound," he said, watching as you stretched; he gulped, feeling an erection forming in his mesh shorts. You hum in response and walk behind him, holding your water bottle, not noticing how he had to adjust himself as he reached the car and opened the door for you.

"Can we stop at that one place that makes those popsicles out of juice?" You ask as you reach forward and turn the air conditioner on full blast.

"Whatever you want is fine with me," he says as he pulls onto the road and stops by the place.

"So, do you want one?" You ask, looking over at him as he rests his head against the headrest. He turns his head towards you, tilting his head to study you as he shakes his head no.

"No, I'm good," he says, enjoying the cool air coming from the car's air conditioning. He watches you nod and reaches over for the car handle for you so you can get out of the car.

He leans his head back and watches as you walk in, your shorts leaving nothing to the imagination as he watches your ass move perfectly with each stride you take. He'd been watching you for months, and he was sure you were oblivious to the stares or the way he'd lick his lips watching you.

You definitely didn't know that he'd lay in bed with his hand around his dick, imagining it was your face he was fucking. He had his eyes closed, a groan escaping his lips as he felt his dick twitch at the images in his head. He opened his eyes, hearing the door open again, and looked over at you holding a Red, White, and Blue Popsicle.

"Look, they had one in your colors," you tease. "Do you want the first lick?"

"Umm, no, I'm good," he stammers.

You giggle and hold it up to your lips as you wrap your mouth around it, savoring the cold frozen ice that tasted like cherry, coconut, and blueberry. You moan at the coolness going down your dry throat and open your eyes as a groan escapes Steve's lips.

You can see him now, his eyes locked on your lips. You pull the popsicle from your lips as you can feel your cheeks burning. You look over at him and notice that he has an enormous erection formed in his shorts.

"Steve?"

"Don't stop on my account," he hums, his own cheeks turning a bright red. That you swear was as red as the cherry tip of the popsicle. "But don't argue with me when I get you home and my dick replaces that fucking popsicle," he said, gripping the wheel tightly. "I've wanted to have your mouth around my dick ever since I laid eyes on you. I just know you'll look good between my legs as I fuck that pretty little mouth," he says, and you feel the wetness in your panties begin to leak from your cunt.

If the others could just hear Steve's choice of words.

You honestly didn't think he had it in him.

You lock eyes with him as you bring the popsicle up to your lips. You slowly push it in all the way and suck it, making the sexiest noises you can muster. When you finish, you remove the popsicle stick, and he leans forward, bringing you into his lap, and he kisses you. Taking your lips roughly with his so he can taste the mixture of the artificially flavored popsicle.

"Just wait till we get home gonna fill you up," he says into your mouth. "Hope I don't stretch your pretty little mouth or cunt with my dick too much, Sweets," he hums, and you ache against him as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as you shove your tongue in. You pull away a few moments later and grind your shorts against his erection. He moans and dips his fingers into your sides before you hop off of him and look at him innocently and bat your lashes as he curses under his breath and pulls out of the parking spot. It's impressive that he didn't get pulled over on the way back to the compound; any cop would have taken one look into the car and noticed just why Captain America was speeding through New York City Traffic. But for once, for once in his life, he could care less about breaking the law.

When you got back to the compound, Steve quickly opened your door and simply pulled you up into his arms. His lips crashed down onto yours in a bruising kiss. You wondered what the others would think if they saw him walking you into the compound with your legs wrapped around his waist.

Luckily, nobody else was at the compound that day, he carried you into his room and roughly pushed your back into the wall by the door, and the two of you quickly undressed each other ad then he tossed you onto his bed, where he finally pulled your panties off and his boxers. After your underwear was removed, everything else seemed to be happening in slow motion. Steve held your body close to his and laid back on the bed. He turned you, so you were facing his dick. He watched in awe as you moved back and descended your cunt onto his mouth. The tip of your clit had emerged from the hood and glistened. You began to grind the soft flesh down against his lips. He around your clit and up inside your wet folds.

You began to hump his mouth so vigorously that he couldn't help but moan against your cunt. Your juices spilled down his flushed cheeks and dripped off of his chin, and coated his beard. His hands moved up your sides and squeezed your tits, and he smirked against you as you cursed his name.

You finally reached and took his dick and licked the tip tasting his precum. You smirked against it as you began to lick and suck it like she had the popsicle earlier. Delightful obscenities streamed from your mouth between licks.

"Steve," you hummed. "You taste so sweet," you said before taking all of him in, and you began to bob your head up and down as you wrapped your hand around his dick and moved it in unison with your mouth. He was thick, but you fit him all the way in.

"Y/N," Steve groaned, pushing his hips up against your mouth. "Wanna be in you," he said in a rough voice. You pull your mouth away, and Steve moves to lay you onto your back, his hands on both of your sides as he looks deep into your eyes and slides effortlessly inside you.

"Fuck," he says as he rubs a thumb over your clit. "S'Tight," he says as he pushes in, filling you to the hilt. You run your hand through his blond locks, pulling on it slightly as you pull his lips down to yours. He feels so good inside you. You can't even say anything at first; a string of curses leaves before you can muster the strength to say his name.

"Steve," you moan. "You're so good," you finally can say, pulling him closer with your legs. He smirks and kisses you and begins to fuck you faster and harder as you pull on his hair. Something about hearing you praising him opens something up inside Steve, and he smirks as he pulls your head, so you were looking right into his eyes. He presses his thumb to your clit as he pounds inside your pussy, and you moan his name over and over.

"Relax, sweets, just relax," he says, moving his finger up to your mouth.

He runs it along your lips, and you lean your head and take his finger, sucking your juices from it.

"That's it, sweets. Keep being good for me," he says as a smile spreads to his lips.

"Such a precious little slut you are," he says against your ear. That's one thing he can't look you in the eyes and say, and he feels you pulling him tighter and closer, your moans and curses getting louder as you pull his head back to face you. You kiss him, and he rests his forehead against yours and moans into your lips.

"Keep being good for me. Yeah, sweet thing, just relax," he said, his lips brushing softly against yours.

"Are you ready?" He murmurs. "You're doing such a good job. I can't wait to fill you up," he says, holding your hips close as he takes a few more long and hard thrusts before you come undone and your feet dig into his calves.

"You feel incredible," he groans and looks deep into your eyes. "You want me to cum inside you, don't you? Of course, you do," he says, running his fingers back over your lips and groaning as you take them back into your mouth.

"Stevie," you murmur. "Fill me up," you say, sucking his fingers, and he groans as he quickens his hips and fills you with his cum.

He lays there for a few minutes, placing sweet little kisses along your shoulders and to your neck. When he pulls out of you, you feel an emptiness inside you and smile as he smiles down at you, resting his elbow onto the mattress and his head onto his hand. He gives you the cutest little smile. His face softens, and he looks down at you with those boyish blue eyes.

"Hope I was good," he hums and kisses you as you giggle and run your fingers gently through his hair as he lays his head on your chest.

"Very good," you hum and smile as you kiss his lips. "Such a good boy," you hum.

How It's Going/Ended

You pace in your apartment as you look up at the clock on the wall. You jump slightly as there's a knock on the door. You walk over towards the door and look out of the peephole and see Bucky running his vibranium fingers through his now shorter hair, the hair that you had cut the night before.

He was holding the bag from the store that he had picked up, an order that you had made online, so he wouldn't know what it was. You opened the door and took the bag from him, and hugged him tightly as you let out a long sigh that you were holding in.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's up, doll?" He asked, stepping in. He and you had become close once Steve had chosen to go back to be with Peggy. He spent more time at your apartment than his own, finding your couch much more comfortable than his floor.

"I'm late, Bucky," you whisper, looking down at the floor. "You know it's late," you say, looking up into his blue eyes. You can feel the tears coming to the corner of your eyes. You sit down beside him, and his eyes look right at yours.

What you and Bucky had, it just happened. Naturally, a few kisses here and there, you both vented about Steve leaving to be with a woman he had only kissed once. Steve had told you that he loved you, that you made him happy, and then he left not only you but his best friend to go back in time to be with Peggy Carter.

Bucky had wanted to tell Steve that he was free, that his mind was now under his control, but he had cornered him before he had the chance and told him he was going to be with Peggy. He didn't even tell you goodbye. Bucky had to do that. He had to tell you that your boyfriend had chosen to leave you behind to be in another time with another woman. He took your hands in his, pulled you into his lap, and gently took your face with his fingers.

What you and Bucky had now, it happened naturally. Little stares here and there, he asked if he could hold your hand. The first kiss happened while watching The Wizard of Oz. While you and Bucky had sex, you had been extra careful, so you knew that the baby belonged to Steve if you were pregnant.

"Whatever that test says," he whispers with his blue eyes locked on your face. "I'm going to be right here," he says, and you lose all control, and the tears began to fall as you lean into his hand that was on your cheek. You nod, and he leans, kissing down each of your cheeks, then your lips as he wraps an arm around you.

"I don't deserve you, Buck," you say as he wipes your tears.

"Doll, if there's anyone that doesn't deserve anyone it's me," he smiles up at you as your hands move to his face. Bucky had learned that most hands were built to crush or destroy. Most had handled his body like a minefield. But yours, yours felt like the gentle flow of spring; kind on his skin and delicate. "I love you, Doll," he said, leaning his forehead against yours. "And I'll love this baby and raise it like it's mine if it's what you want to do," he says and smiles as you close the space between you and him and softly kiss his lips.

"I love you too, Buck," you whisper and smile against his lips. "I love you so much," you say against his lips.

It was then that you realize just how easy it came off of each of your lips. It wasn't like that with Steve, and Bucky was sitting there so in love with you that he was willing to raise a child that was his best friend and not his to show you just how much he meant it.

"I'm going to go take it," you whisper, and you feel his lips on yours once more before finally you pull away and walk towards the bathroom. You read the test a few times before peeing on the stick and waiting for the results to show up. It was one of those that just said "pregnant" or "not pregnant" you bit at your lip and heard Bucky walking behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist. You look up at him as the timer on your phone went off, and you lay your head on his black tee.

"Want me to look at it, doll?" He whispers, and you look up at him, slowly nodding your head. He lifts the test and reads the word "Pregnant" off to you.

Earlier, you thought you were going to cry if you read that word. But when you see the love-filled eyes of Bucky Barnes looking at you before he leans down and kisses your stomach, and you play with his hair with a giggle, nothing but happiness and pride exist inside you.

It is at that moment that you realize that while you had been given Steve's heart, it wasn't the heart that's meant to love you. That heart belonged to James Buchannan Barnes.

Tagging:

@syntheticavenger @bitchassbucky @belladonnabarnes @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @onceuponabarnes @fairyevans @balenciagabucky @honeysucklesteve @faeryloki @fuckandfluff @bibbidibobbidibucky @buckyblues @buckyssimp @mickey-henry @fluffycutecevans @bloomingbucky @midnightf @fallinforevans @stucky-on-spiderman @lokiscollar

#synths5kfollowerchallenge #chris evans #steve rogers #chris evans x fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans x smut #chris evans x you #steve rogers x fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x smut #steve rogers x you #nic.doc

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l4verq · 3 years

Text

almost yours | s. r & b.b

pre-serum steve x reader, bucky x reader

in which you’re sure you’ll fall for bucky soon enough

warnings : angst, mentions of death, war, fights

fic : oneshot?

masterlist

|| gif by @go-fandom-imagines ||

“I can do this all day.”

You roll your eyes cause you know he can’t.

“No, he can’t.” You trudge in between the filth, your peep-toe heels doing little to help you walk.

On closer inspection, the man is clearly intoxicated. He has his hands squared up, body swaying slightly but firmly planted infront of Steve.

You know he’s already had a few punches in judging by the bruises on his knuckles and the cuts on Steve’s face.

Steve mutters a silent curse as he sees you walking up to them.

Why did you always have to see him in such a pathetic state like this?

You give a stern look at him like always and he can’t meet your eyes every damn time.

“Who are you?” The man slurs, the smell of alcohol almost suffocating you.

“His friend.” You lift your neck a little higher as you meet the man’s eyes, your heart beating out of your chest.

Friend. Of course, that’s what he is to you.

“Y/N.” Steve steps in between, shielding you from the man.

You’re about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re shoved back roughly, falling into a pile of trash.

“A broad should know better than to meddle in men’s business.” The man wags his finger before repeatedly hitting Steve who’s yelling at you to run.

You hastily unstrap your heels and fling it across with a smack against the man’s back.

But the punches don’t stop.

“Stop, you stupid geezer.” You scream, grabbing his hair and thrashing your arms around, hoping you get a solid punch in.

“Hey!” The man slips away from your grasp as Bucky grabs him and pulls him away from the both of you.

“Pick on somebody your size.” He snarls, ramming his arm into the man’s body, making him double over in pain.

The man staggers off and Bucky turns to face the both of you, anger evident in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He objects as soon as you open your mouth.

“Steve, you good?”

“I’ll live.”

You two share a sheepish smile as Bucky helps him up.

“Okay, just so you know, this thing you guys have with getting beat up in alleys is stupid and moronic.” Bucky huffs, hands on his hips, foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“I was just trying to help Steve.”

“I didn’t need any help.”

“Says the guy who’s just had his ass handed to him.”

“Okay, funtime’s over. You have an aptitude test today, we can’t be late.” Bucky intervenes, retrieving your heel.

“Go to the hospital!” You shriek as Steve limps his way out.

He never stayed. He never could.

Because he didn’t like his thoughts when he’d see you and Bucky together.

Bucky sighs, kneeling on the ground, with your heel in hand.

He glances at you for approval before strapping on your heel for you.

“Thank you.” You mumble, a dull ache spreading throughout your elbows as the adrenaline subsides.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asks, concern in his eyes.

This is when you hate yourself the most. Disgusted with yourself because you can’t bring yourself to accept the unconditional love that he has for you. Disgusted that you keep telling yourself you’ll fall for him soon enough.

“I’m fine.” You lie, something fairly common to you.

“Still mad?” Steve sits next to you, hands shoved in his jacket.

You notice he did go to the hospital, judging by the white bandage on his hand peeking out.

“Maybe.”

He smiles but it quickly turns into a grimace, the cuts on his lips still healing.

“Heard you got in.” You continue, transfixed on his blue eyes.

“Had to see the look on your father’s face. Priceless.”

The two of you burst out laughing, his face contorted in a mix of pain and laughter making you laugh even more.

Your father, Colonel Chester Philips had made it clear on several occasions that Steve would never make it in the army despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise.

“Don’t forget about me when you get all buffed up and go off fighting scary men.” You joke, half serious.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There it starts again. The stupid fluttering in your heart as you dare to think his gaze at you right now means anything more. And the guilt that floods in right after.

“You two take care of each other.” You both look over at Bucky waving at you from the registration office.

Childhood friends, you’d never known life without the two of them. And now both of them were leaving to possibly never return.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” He gives a soft smile because he knows how much you hate that he’s going too. How much you hate the war. How much you hate that your father’s never home.

He’d made up his mind about this years ago when he realised an asthmatic 90 pound man wasn’t exactly the ladies’ man but the butt of the joke and an easy prey for bullies.

And he didn’t like bullies.

But right now, the way you’re looking at him, his heart wavers a little.

“We are all set to go. You have been assigned to Camp Lehigh.” Bucky arrives, waving a form at Steve.

Your heart drops as it sinks in that they have to leave now. Tears spring to your eyes which you try to blink away.

“I’ll write you whenever I can.” Steve gets up, eyes glossy.

“You’d better.” You smile at him, an uncomfortable ache growing in your heart.

You almost give in to embracing him but the rock on your left hand weighs you down.

He lingers around for a while, perhaps thinking the same. But, he gives a smile, walking away towards the office.

“He’ll be okay,” Bucky reassures you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Steve’s a tough cookie.”

You look up at your fiance, a lump forming in your throat.

“I’m going to miss you two.” You bite down on your quivering lip as a single tear trickles down your cheek.

God, were you beautiful, he thinks, gently wiping your tears away.

He hated leaving you, each time hurting quite possibly even more than the previous.

If you’d just ask him to stay, he’d leave everything right then and there all for you.

But you never do.

He leans in and you think he doesn’t catch the slight clench of your jaw but he does, everytime.

Each time, he rationalises it in his head, chiding himself for overanalysing.

Cause it’d hurt to think otherwise.

A ghost of a kiss on your forehead you barely feel as you force yourself to swallow the growing lump.

The mornings were tolerable.

A few chores here and there. Breakfast if you felt like it. Maybe drop by the salon, have a little chat with the girls.

You kept busy, finding faults in your own cleaning everytime. A spot you definitely missed while cleaning yesterday, you immediately attend to it, scrubbing away.

Sometimes, your father stopped by during the late afternoons, carrying a bag of fresh produce from the local market.

He’d little to say about Steve’s training, gruffly humming whenever you enquired.

Then, you’d have dinner with him, pretending that it wasn’t awkward having an empty seat across you that once belonged to your mother.

The last time you saw your father smile was during your engagement to Bucky. He’d pulled you in a tight embrace, wordless.

It wasn’t like this before.

He actually stayed home, smiled often and had a spark in his eyes.

But after your mother passed, it felt like he was just going through the motions everyday. Buried himself in more work, drowned himself in alcohol somedays.

You couldn’t blame him. You were no better, bottling up your own feelings.

But you wished he’d remember he still had you.

The nights were unbearable.

More often than not, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, heart still racing from the nightmares that plagued your mind.

Then, the worries’d take over.

The war was unforgiving and cruel and you’d pray every night that they wouldn’t fall victim to it.

The shiny rock on your hand catches your eye as it glistens in the moonlight. It’s a thin, silver band with a delicate diamond on top.

You felt like an impostor wearing it.

But, you’d gotten used to it. You’d just remember your mother’s wish, the way Bucky’s face broke out into a smile when you said yes and your father’s brief moment of happiness.

It didn’t help when you remembered Steve.

You don’t really know what you were expecting when you gave him the news. Maybe, you wanted to see if he’d be affected by it? If he felt the same way for you as you did him?

“I’m happy for you two.”

He had the biggest smile on his face as he tugged around with Bucky, teasing him.

But his eyes. You could swear you saw a flicker of sadness in them for just a split second or maybe you were just delusional, projecting your own feelings.

Most probably, the latter.

You pull the neatly folded up letter from your drawer, opening it for the umpeethn time.

Skimming over the scrawlings, your eyes land at the very end where Steve promises to return in the next few days.

You’d received the letter three weeks ago.

Your father’d informed you that Steve’d agreed to an experiment, where he’d be injected with a serum that would apparently make him a super soldier of some sorts.

“Is it safe?”

The grim silence that followed twisted your insides up into knots.

“We don’t know.” Your father grunted, the greying on his hair more prominent.

The following week he came bearing news of Steve’s successful transformation. That he’d grown two feet taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier.

You muttered a silent thank you to God as the coil in your stomach loosened.

“Do you want to see them?” Your father looks up at you from the table, eyes not leaving his newspaper.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. Not after he’d failed as a father. He’d done a lot wrong but the worst was dissappointing you each time you welcomed him back with a warm meal and forgiving eyes.

You nod, a small smile breaking out at the thought of them.

One of the few privileges that came with being the daughter of a Colonel was to be able to go to the Army base closed off to everyday people.

That evening, Bucky arrived, daisies in hand cause he knows how much you like them.

“For my daisy.” He’d say everytime, a grin plastered on his face as you’d roll your eyes, unable to hold back a smile.

You carefully place the letter back into your drawer and crawl under your blanket, hoping to cram in some sleep.

Travelling to Camp Lehigh would take the entire day on a train and you could never really fall asleep anywhere but your own bed.

Envy.

The green eyed monster that doesn’t seem to leave your shoulders as your gaze flickers over to them.

A total of atleast six different women have made their rounds, tossing their hair and giggling when he leans in to say something in their ears cause the music’s a little too loud.

But who could blame them?

Steve stood tall at an impressive 6.1 feet, a far cry from the 5.4 he used to be. Though clothed, anyone could see the mass of muscles bulging out, the suit straining whenever he raised his arm.

The first time you saw him, you were speechless.

Bucky had emphasized on the drastic change in Steve’s appearance but you were still taken aback, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

Everything about him was so different yet his eyes still had that twinkle to them that you always swooned over.

You down your fourth shot in a row, throat burning.

Did she really have to feel his shield and kn-

“Dance with me?” Bucky gives a coy smile, eyebrow quirked up.

Taking his extended hand, he chuckles as you wobble sightly while getting up.

“Someone had a lot to drink.” He comments, guiding you to the dance floor.

A hand slightly above your waist, the other holding your own, Bucky was always a great dancer.

You always let him take the lead as he swayed you back and forth, always managing to expertly avoid stepping on your dress.

You start to regret the alcohol, your head spinning a little.

He seems to notice and lulls down to a gentle pace, holding you tight. You lean into his chest, breathing in the sweet musk that’s just so, Bucky.

He calls your name, barely above a whisper, which you probably wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t so close to him.

You hum in reply, head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Remember that time you got mad at me,”

“and you came crying to me, begging for forgiveness.” You finish his sentence, chuckling.

A throaty laugh rumbles from his chest as well.

“And we promised that we’d never lie to each other anymore.”

You lift your head, to see a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s time you kept that promise.” His eyes trails over to Steve.

The low tune that crooned on fades out as a ringing in your ears take over. You could only stare at him, paralysed.

It takes him everything he has in him to stay composed. But he has to do this.

“Tell him, before it’s too late.” He whispers, an urgency in his voice.

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill any moment.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.” He reassures you, taking your hands in his.

Shuffling bodies bump into you as you look away, incapable of holding his stare.

If only you’d known it would be the last time you saw him.

It’s the last thing he wants to do.

But he tells you anyway that he has to leave. That he needs to go.

Ever since Bucky fell to his death, Steve knew nothing but revenge. All he could really think about was taking down Hydra.

When you found out about Bucky, you’d done the same thing you always did.

Bottle your grief, pushing it down and down and keep busy.

Steve knew this too so he was patient, never poked around too much, lent a shoulder to cry on.

He often blamed himself, the event still haunting him at night, his own mind locking him in an endless tunnel.

But you’d always be there, at the end of it, a dim light that led him out.

“Just don’t die on me.” You whisper, hand grasping onto his jacket as he turned to leave.

This time, you don’t think twice before embracing him.

You want to keep him right there, safe with you.

And he probably would stay if you asked enough but you know he has to do this.

You just wanted to be selfish for once.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He wraps his hands around your waist, allowing himself to bask in your arms for a while.

As he pulls away, his face is so close that you can see the golden flecks splattered throughout his blue eyes, forming a psychedelic pattern that seemed to only hypnotise you.

He leans in before stopping himself, eyes flickering down to your slightly parted lips.

You can’t help but stare at his too.

But, the both of you awkwardly pull away, perhaps both appalled by their own selfish thoughts.

He couldn’t do this to his bestfriend ; you’d always be Bucky’s, not his.

As he leaves with the soldiers, the coil in your stomach tightens even more, heart sinking when he fades out of view.

You immediately station yourself at the air traffic controller office, where you man a radio transceiver.

It’s a large room filled with machines and a screen that displays the plane that he took.

It’s a long, long while before the transceiver crackles, a familiar voice blaring off it.

“Steve?” You grab it, almost jumping out of your seat.

The screen shows the plane heading north, further beyond the grid.

You think he called your name too but it’s barely audible.

Then, you hear it.

The whistling of the wind. The rattling of the controls.

The screen blares a warning when the plane doesn’t seem to stop going down.

“Steve, get out of there now!” You beg as it sinks in that he doesn’t plan to.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” His voice breaks.

“No, come back to me, please.” The room grows smaller and smaller as the air suffocates you.

A distorted reply arrives.

Your heart breaks at the thought of him all alone in that plane, headed for his death.

“I never really said thank you for all the times you beat up my bullies.”

You smile, swallowing the lump in your throat.

A surge of courage runs through your body as you say the words you’ve wanted to say to him ever since you discovered what love even was.

“Steve, I love you.”

But the line goes dead.

a/n : idk wtf this is, it was better in my head lol, might fk around and make this into a mini series😬 also tfatws🤑😈

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wicked-mind · 3 years

Text

Betrayed: Chapter Seven

Summary of series: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

Warnings: Mostly just fluff (If there is some type of warning I should tag, let me know please xx)

*Gifs not mine

CHAPTER SEVEN- The Date That Never Happened

Within a few days, Y/n was back to herself. Dimitri hadn’t been in her head since she was taken by Alexei. The soreness that ached in her body from her fight with Alexei had faded. She was able to train again with Clint, who still had a fading bruise on his neck. Y/N apologized profusely for blowing up Clint’s car, but he told her an apology wasn’t necessary. She was excited to get back to normal and not have to be coddled by everybody like she was a delicate flower anymore.

As Y/N was down training with Clint, Bucky had plans surfacing in his mind. He wanted to have a proper date with Y/N, ask her to officially be his girl. He knocks on the door to Wanda’s and Y/N’s room. When the door floated open by itself, he steps into the doorway, looking to Wanda who was eating some waffles and watching an old black and white tv show.

Wanda looks at Bucky, swallowing the bite in her mouth, “Hey Bucky, I think Y/N is still training if you’re looking for her.” She said as she cut another piece of her waffle off to eat.

Bucky smiled and shook his head, “I know, I was actually looking for you. I need your help with something.” He said, leaning against the doorframe and folded his arms, “I want to give Y/N a proper date. You think you can get everybody cleared out tonight for a while?” He asks.

Wanda’s smile grew at the words, “I think I can manage that.” She said happily, “I’ll get everybody to go out for dinner tonight, make sure we give you two a few hours. What do you need me to do?” She put her breakfast on her bedside table, picking up a notebook to make a list on what she could help with.

Bucky smiles as he saw how enthused Wanda was with his idea, knowing already he had her approval when it came to Y/N, “I was going to go pick up some flowers and that mushroom ravioli she loves. I want it to be a surprise. I was thinking around 6 tonight?”

Wanda nods, scribbling down notes onto her notebook, “Okay, I’ll get Y/N ready and set everything up in the kitchen. I’ll get everybody out of here by 5:30.” She said, returning her gaze to Bucky with a smile, “It’ll be perfect, Y/N will be so excited when she realizes what is happening.”

Bucky smiled, looking down for a moment, “I hope so. Thanks for you help, Wanda.” He said, exiting the room to go on his mission to collect flowers and the food he planned to have tonight with Y/N, a grin across his face. He wanted tonight to be perfect for Y/N.

Wanda was busy at work, cleaning up the kitchen to make it sparkle. She found a vase for the flowers, placing it on the table as well as some candles. She was determined to make everything perfect for Bucky and Y/N’s date. Next, Wanda convinced everybody else to go out for dinner tonight. It didn’t take too much convincing, everybody could use a night out anyway and they were happy to help Bucky by clearing out of the facility for a couple hours. Next up on Wanda’s list, distracted Y/N until later and help her get ready. She found Y/N in their bedroom after training, freshly showered and eating a sandwich on her bed

“I’ve been looking for you.” Wanda huffed as she shut the door behind her, wondering if Y/N had noticed the empty vase and candles on the dinning table, “We are all going out for dinner tonight, the whole team, but I need some us time. Want to watch some Grey’s?” She plopped herself down next to Y/N on the bed, grabbing the remote to turn on Netflix.

Y/N nodded to the dinner comment, then pulled her eyebrows together at Wanda as she said she needed some time with her, “Everything okay?” She asks, finishing her sandwich and placing the now empty plate on the bedside table. Y/N wrapped an arm around Wanda, allowing them both to lay back on the single bed to watch Grey’s Anatomy together. They had almost made it through all the seasons on Netflix.

Wanda nodded, leaning back with Y/N, “Yeah, everything is great. I just wanted some us time before we all go out.” She smiled at her friend, before turning her attention to the tv show.

Y/N eyed Wanda suspiciously for a moment, before turning her attention to the tv as well. She happily watched the show with Wanda, laughing with her at the show. Once it was getting closer to dinner time, Wanda and Y/N started getting ready. Y/N wanted to wear just some jeans and nice shirt, but Wanda told her it was going to be a nice dinner and she would have to dress up a little. Y/N rolled her eyes at the thought of having to get all dressed up, but agreed. She changed into a dark blue dress that ended at just about her knees, slipping on some dark heels to match. Of course, she left the dog tags dangling around her neck but tucked them into her dress so only the chain could be seen. Y/N let Wanda curl her hair again as she put on some mascara to darken her lashes. She finished with painting her lips a soft red color.

Wanda smiled, “I’ll meet you there.” She lied, before floating out the door to see Bucky standing in the kitchen holding a bouquet of sunflowers mixed with red roses, “She’ll be out in a minute.” Wanda informed him, waving her hands and using her abilities to light the candles, dim the lights a little, float a wine bottle out of the chiller to the table, and have the tv start playing some soft romantic music. Wanda smiled at Bucky, “Good luck.” She sang before disappearing down the stairs to meet the rest of the team to leave him and Y/N alone for a while.

Y/N walked out, cursing at her shoes which were already hurting her feet. She paused as she walks into the kitchen, noticing the dim lights and music playing. Then her eyes fell on Bucky. He was standing there with a grin on his face, dressed in a dark button up shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore matching black pants with some black shoes. She looked at the flowers, then to him, a smile creeping across her lips. Y/N walked towards him as she took in the rest room, noticing the lit candles and food placed out at the table, “We aren’t going to dinner, are we?” She asks him softly, meeting his gaze.

Bucky smiled down at her, “No, doll.” He said softly, passing Y/N the flowers which she gladly accepted, “Wanda helped me get everybody out of here for a few hours so we can finally have that date.”

Y/N looked at the flowers, smiling at the colors before returning her eyes to his face. His words made her heart flutter. Finally they could have their date they always wanted, “I knew Wanda was up to something.” She said with narrowing eyes, before moving and placing the flowers in the vase on the table. She could feel Bucky follow behind her, staying close to her, “This is very nice, Bucky.” Y/N said as she turned to face him, “Thank you.”

Bucky smiled at Y/N. God, she was beautiful. He noticed her still wearing his dog tags around her neck even in the formal ware and it made him grin. The way Y/N moved drew him in closer. He wanted to be closer to her ever since he saw her again, and now he was finally able to show how much he cared for her. He reaches out and grabs her hand, leading her to her seat, “Anything for you.” He pulled out the chair for her to sit, “Now, let’s have some dinner before it gets cold.”

Y/N sat down, looking down at the mushroom ravioli she had been obsessed with since she found out it existed. A grin traced her lips as she realized just how hungry she was. She waited for Bucky to take his seat, watching as he poured them two half glasses of the dark wine. She bit her lip softly. Y/N couldn’t deny how perfect Bucky looked and how amazing he did putting this together. It made her pale cheeks flush into a small blush.

As they ate, the two smiled and joked at each other. Talking about numerous things including memories of their teenage years, how Steve used to put newspaper in his shoes, the games they’d play, and the adventures they’d go on all together. When they finished eating, they held hands on the table, smiling at each other. Bucky watched as Y/N raised the glass to her red lips, once again filled with envy for the glass. He wanted so badly to be in the glass’s place on her lips. Bucky stood, carrying their empty plates to the sink, before returning and holding out his hand to Y/N, wanting to hold her close for a dance to the soft music playing, “Y/N, may I have this dance.” He grinned down at her.

Y/N put the wine glass down, taking his hand and standing. She smiled back at him as he lead her to a more open area away from the dining table. She wraps her arms up and around his neck, stepping closer to him. She bit her bottom lip and blushed as she felt Bucky’s hands wrap around her hips, pulling her closer to his muscular frame which she gladly stepped into. They swayed to the music for a few moments, keeping their eyes locked with each other.

Bucky moves one hand from around Y/N’s waist, lifting it to touch her cheek gently, keeping his eyes locked on hers, “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” He breathed gently as he leaned his face down closer to her’s, his warm breath hitting Y/N’s face gently. He watched her closely as he moved his face closer to her’s, not wanting to overstep with her.

Y/N smiled at his words, feeling his breath on her face made a chill go down her spine, causing her goosebumps to appear along her skin. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, feeling the need to kiss him. Bucky was intoxicating to Y/N in this moment. All she wanted was him. She leaned her face up closer to his, brushing her lips against his soft ones, placing a gentle kiss upon them.

The corners of his lips curled into a smile as he felt Y/N’s lips on his, kissing her back. He pulled her body as close to his as possible. He had waited for this moment for a long time, ever since the day he left for his deployment. He moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her lips against his as he continued to kiss her. He forced himself to pull away from her lips, watching her eyes flutter open to meet his gaze, “Be my girl.” He whispered to her, more of a statement than a question.

Y/N leaned forward a bit as he pulled away from her lips, not wanting the kiss to end. She looked up into his blue eyes as he spoke, butterflies erupting in her stomach at his words. She nodded, planting a soft kiss to his lips, “I’ve always been yours.” She whispers back against his lips before kissing him again. Y/N kept one hand wrapped around the back of his neck, allowing her other to slide down his shoulder and rest on his chest, gripping his shirt slightly as if trying to pull him closer to her even though their bodies were already touching. She could feel herself wanting Bucky in every way possible.

Bucky couldn’t help himself, he gripped at her waist and pulled her roughly against him as if not wanting any air to come between their bodies, wanting to feel all of her against him. He moved his kisses from her lips and along her jaw, dancing his lips down Y/N’s neck and kissing softly. He stopped himself there, brushing his lips against her soft pale skin. He moved back to look at her. He could see what he was doing to Y/N, not wanting him to stop. But Bucky decided to be a gentleman instead, much to Y/N’s dismay. He could see the want in her eyes which made him grin crookedly down at her, cupping Y/N’s face in his hands, “How’s this for our date?”

Y/N closed her eyes when he kissed her neck, holding back a small whimper that she refused to let pass her lips. When he pulled away from her, she looked at him, meeting his gaze. She smiled, “Better than I’ve dreamed about.” She spoke softly to him, taking in his handsome form which she could officially call her’s.

It wasn’t long until the team was back from their night out, but by the time they were Bucky and Y/N had cleaned up and changed into more comfortable clothes, sitting on the couch and watching the end Indiana Jones movie. Steve always spoke so highly of the series and Y/N wanted to give them a watch. Steve was right, they were really good. Their night ended with Bucky walking her to her room, placing his hand on her cheek and pulling her face to his and placing a gentle kiss on her lips, “Goodnight, doll.” He whispered against her lips before kissing them again.

Y/N smiled as he kissed her, happily giving him kisses back, “Goodnight.” She whispers back to him. She watched him grin at her, then make his way down the hallway and into his bedroom. Y/N watched him until he disappeared, closing the door and leaning against it taking a deep breath. Wanda was sitting on her bed with a triumphant smile, “Tell me all about it.” She demanded.

Y/N chuckled a little bit and sat next to Wanda, crossing her legs and told Wanda everything that happened and what a gentleman he was even though she didn’t want him to be.

“Patience is a virtue.” Wanda sang out as she listened to how Bucky had stopped himself from going further with Y/N, “I’m sure there will be many more hot dates.”

Y/N laughed and nodded, “Patience. Not one of my strengths.” She said softly, moving to her own bed and crawling under the covers, “I can’t believe you lied to me though.” She said, giving Wanda a look.

Wanda flicked the lights out and tucked herself into her own bed, “It was a good lie. Worth the while kind of lie.” She responded. Y/N drifted off to sleep easily, happy at her night with Bucky.

—

‘Where am I?’

Y/N thought as she dreamt. She was in some sort of building. The lightening was dim and the room was cold. She walked slowly down a long hallway towards a black door, opening it. She saw Dimitri sitting at a table, smirking on the phone. She waited to see if Dimitri looked over to her, but when he didn’t she approached him slowly. Looking down at what was on the table in front of him as she listened to his phone call. The folder had a red star on it with Bucky’s full name as well as Winter Soldier Project written on the cover.

“Thank you. This will help me out.” Dimitri said, opening the folder, “Yes, yes. I’ll return your daughter to you untouched.” He growled and ended the phone call. He flipped through the pages, finally finding what he needed, “Ten little words.” He chuckled.

Y/N watched as he flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the pages for information on Bucky as the Winter Soldier. Seeing the words, her eyes widened, realizing what Dimitri’s plan was. He was planning to activate Bucky as the Winter Soldier to get to her.

“Bucky.. no..” She whispered to herself, forcing herself to wake up from the dream.

Wanda was already awake, looking at Y/N with wide eyes, “I saw it too. You were in his mind. You two have become more connected.” She said, moving out of her bed to sit next to Y/N, “I thought all those files on Bucky were destroyed. If he has those words… Dimitri can activate Bucky and control him.�� She whispered, a little fear in her eyes.

Y/N nodded, fear running across her face as she thought about what she saw. The fact that the Winter Soldier, the one who took her, could come back brought her mind to a dark place. She couldn’t let that happen. Y/N had to protect Bucky, and the rest of those that lived in the facility. She returned her gaze to Wanda, giving her a look as if she knew what she needed to do.

Wanda sighed, “I hate that face.” She muttered, “That’s your ‘I have a plan and you’re going to hate it’ face.”

Y/N nodded, running one hand through her hair, “Yeah. You are definitely going to hate it. But I need to destroy that folder before Dimitri has a chance to come here.”

Wanda sighed again, her face turning into one of defeat realizing she may not have any other option but to go along with whatever Y/N’s plan was, “Okay, so what is this awful plan?”

__________________________________________________________

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years

Note

hnnng, could you please do either “you’re sick and you need to rest” or “you could’ve died” for stevetony? Worrying about an SO is a soft spot for me🥺

thank you for sending me this prompt! hope you like it :) (warning for mentions of torture, btw, but nothing graphic)

In that cave in Afghanistan, Tony keeps seeing flashes of things. Moments from life before all of this come to him in between the shocks of electricity when his head is forced underwater, while he’s sputtering and gasping for breath and can’t understand the words being screamed at him.

He sees Steve more than anything. Sees blue eyes and a bright smile and if he tries hard enough he can almost hear the laugh that comes with it. Sometimes it’s that first day again, with roaming hands and a rush to get off in the bathroom of some party he didn’t want to be at, followed by an easy grin and the promise to do that again sometime. He sees Steve on his couch surrounded by take out containers and the reassurance that absolutely none of it counted as a date. Morning pancakes that supposedly meant nothing, and Steve sneaking under the desk in his office. Pencil scratches on sketch pads that used to wake him up, cold feet pressed against his calves, his favorite muffins from that bakery downtown that used to just appear out of nowhere when he was having a bad day, and the way that Steve would never admit that it was him doing it.

It’s that last night he remembers the most. He can almost hear the words whispered in the dead of night and remembers the ones he held back, because Tony has never known how to be completely honest. He didn’t know how to say that this casual friends with benefits things was starting to feel less like friends and more like love, but when he lays down with his aching chest and bleeding fingers on the poor excuse for a cot at night, he wishes more than anything that he could have found the words before.

So he builds the suit and practices the right thing to say for when he makes it out. If he makes it out. If this ridiculous plan of his doesn’t result in him dying somewhere in the middle of the desert, just another body added to the pile of deaths he’s caused.

He almost doesn’t believe it when he lives. His knees hit the scorching sand, and Rhodey’s arms are right there, and still all he can think about is whether or not Steve mourned at all when they all thought he was dead.

In the plane, after the hospital at the army base and all the IV lines to fix the three months of dehydration and malnutrition, he works up the nerve to ask about it.

“Steve,” he starts, voice hoarse enough that he pauses to clear his throat, unwilling to sound so affected. “Is he - did he -” He stops, settling for asking, “Have you talked to him?”

Rhodey leans forward on his elbows, closing some of the distance that the aisle between them created. He pulls out his phone and taps for a moment before turning the screen to face Tony. Steve’s name is at the top, and Rhodey scrolls through the string of messages with enough speed that Tony can’t actually read any of them, but he gets the point anyway.

“This is just the last couple of weeks,” Rhodey says. “Never stopped asking for updates, especially when we found you. Called so much I told him I was going to put a virus on his phone to redirect him to random strangers if he kept it up. He didn’t listen.”

Tony swallows around the lump in his throat and looks away towards the window.

“We weren’t supposed to be anything,” Tony murmurs, watching the way the sky is fading from orange into blue, clouds obscuring the ocean below them. It’s still a few more hours until California, where he hopes that Steve is still waiting for him. “We said it was nothing.”

Rhodey hums, both noncommittal and suggestive at the same time, and Tony turns his head back to look at him. “What?”

Rhodey shrugs, “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

“I don’t spill secrets that aren’t mine to tell.”

Tony’s brow furrows. “What does that even mean?”

“It means he’ll be there when we land, and if you try to pretend that it’s still nothing, I’m putting your ass back on the plane until you find your common sense somewhere.”

Tony bites his lip and shakes his head, staring down at his hands, “I wasn’t going to pretend. I just - I didn’t know if he cared anymore. It’s been a few months, and we weren’t… There was never a promise for commitment. He could’ve found somebody else. Anyone else.”

Rhodey gives him a look, that fondly exasperated one he does so well. “Nice to know you’re still a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh from and makes his abused lungs twinge, but it feels good to laugh again. “Takes more than a few months to knock the dumbass out of me.”

The topic falls away after that, because Tony can’t say what he feels, and Rhodey knows anyway. He switches the conversation over to the start of the baseball season that Tony missed, complaining about the Phillies like Tony’s heard every year since he was fifteen. It’s easy and passes the time until Tony ends up falling asleep for the rest of the flight.

His muscles are stiff and uncomfortable when he wakes with a start a couple of hours later, heart racing and on edge when he doesn’t immediately recognize his surroundings. Rhodey puts a hand on his knee, and Tony jumps initially before calming. It makes Rhodey’s eyes turn sad for a moment, then it’s hidden away again.

“Come on,” Rhodey says softly, gripping Tony by the elbow of his good arm to help him up. “We’re here.”

There’s still a slight limp in his step when he walks off the plane from bruises and scars that are still healing. He sees Pepper first, with her red hair shining in the sun, but his gaze gets stuck on the person next to her.

Steve straightens from where he’s leaning against the black car, and Tony wishes he was in better condition so he could run to him. It would have been romantic, he thinks, like something out of one of those movies he’d never even seen before Steve came into his life. There would have been some grand, sweep-him-off-his-feet moment with declarations and pretty words and violins coming from somewhere.

Instead Steve meets him halfway, with a quivering chin like he might start to cry. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is too long, and his five o’clock shadow is almost an actual beard now.

He’s the best thing Tony’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Tony says, because he can’t remember a single one of those things he planned before.

Steve smiles, and it’s only a little shaky, “Hey yourself.”

Rhodey and Pepper disappear with the shutting of the car door, leaving the two of them standing there in the middle of the empty runway. Steve takes the first step, but Tony takes the second, and then Steve’s chest is beneath his cheek, and his arms are around his shoulders.

Tony holds on to him like a lifeline, fingers clutched in his t-shirt, and he can feel the warmth of him seeping into his skin. Steve’s hands are all over, as if checking to make sure he’s all actually there and in one piece.

Steve steps back a little, a small frown on his face. He reaches his hand up to Tony’s chest, and Tony tenses at the first light press against the reactor case.

“What…” Steve trails off, eyes flickering between Tony’s chest and his face, and Tony undoes two of the buttons on his shirt to show him.

The scars around it are marred and red, with raised edges that serve to make it look even worse than it is. Steve makes a sound like a choked back sob, and Tony grabs his wrist to put his hand on the reactor. It’s a little terrifying to let him touch it, but if there’s anyone he knows would never hurt him, it’s Steve.

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs. “It keeps me alive.”

“You could’ve died,” Steve whispers, fingers spreading out over the light of the reactor. “I thought you - I didn’t want to think it, but it was hard not to. Rhodey kept saying that you wouldn’t let yourself go out like that. You’d be all or nothing, and it wasn’t big enough. And Pepper, well, she basically said exactly what did happen. That you’d find a way out. I tried to believe it, too, but I just kept thinking that you could be gone, and we’d never - I’d never get the chance to make this real.”

Tony looks up at him, breath catching in his throat. “I thought about you every day, you know. I almost told you how I felt about you on that last night. Came so close to saying it, but I just -”

“I know,” Steve says, and with his other hand he cups Tony’s cheek. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, leaning in closer, and his lips brush against Tony’s when he says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I know.”

#stevetony #prompts #i literally love you for sending me this #asks #my writing #my fic #stony #superhusbands

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imhereforbvcky · 3 years

Text

Watch Me Run - Part 21

Masterlist - Series Masterpage - Part 22 (epilogue)

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader) Chapter: The rest of the Avengers arrive, and you - reeling from the confrontation with Loki - try to decide what future you want. Word Count: 4386

When a shimmering orange ring grew between the trees, you did not stir, though Bucky raised a weapon. You didn’t share in his surprise when Dr. Strange and the others walked through the portal and into the horror you’d made of the forest.

“What happened here?” he asked.

You didn’t answer, only stared at the bloodied ground and the stone, cold and dark on your chest. Bucky spoke with only a glare. He’d been consoling you for a while now, sweeping an endless river of tears from your skin, rubbing your arms to keep them warm, murmuring comforts like, “I’m here. It’s over now,” and, “It was your life or his, you did the right thing.” But it didn’t feel right.

It felt wrong, and corrupt with power, and not like you at all. You’d been given your first challenge, your first trolley problem, and you’d chosen to trade a life for a life. You’d wanted to be a wise stone-keeper, a selfless seer who led with a compassionate heart, who saved, not took. Now, holding two stones and hands tacky with drying blood, you wondered how you’d lost yourself so thoroughly.

“You’re injured,” Natasha observed quietly, withdrawing her fingers from the place where Loki’s pulse should have been.

“This was a mistake,” you muttered while Tony knelt beside you in an Iron Man suit you’d never seen before: leaner, more like an integrated exo-skeleton than armor.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner. You shouldn’t have had to do this alone,” his gaze shifted momentarily to Bucky. An array of light flashed over your skin from Tony’s suit, nano-molecular technology began reprinting your flesh, knitting it back together. Dr. Strange stepped closer, to see the nanotech in action as Tony moved on to Bucky’s wounded shoulder.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Your eyes remained locked on Bucky, pleading with him to understand, to forgive you, absolve you. “I don’t know what else to do.” He hushed you, comforted you with a gentle hand over your trembling fingers.

“You're pretty banged up,” Strange observed, lifting your elbow to examine another scrape. This one was dark and scabbed, new puckered skin blossomed at the edges. His scrutiny landed on a bruise kissing the curve of your jaw. It was a sickly shade of blue-green and fading to yellow at the rim. His eyes met yours and held your gaze, demanding answers to questions he’d not yet asked.

“It can’t end like this,” you whispered, voice tight in your throat and wet with grief. Slowly your eyes lifted to meet this stranger. “I didn’t want to kill him. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I just… I’m out of choices.”

“How long have you been doing this?” His voice was soft, but his face still held the sternness of judgement, of unimpeachable intelligence. It made you laugh to know what he couldn’t.

“Wrong question, Doctor,” you chuckled, dry and pained.

“What the hell does that mean?” Steve asked, mistrusting your demeanor and eyeing the scepter and its blue stone that he knew could bend minds and crush will.

“Just let her rest,” Bucky growled, helping you to your feet.

“I don’t think so, Buck,” Steve answered slowly, “Not yet.”

Dr. Strange’s scouring gaze turned to a frown. He didn’t like riddles. “so what’s the right question?”

“Time isn’t linear for a stone-keeper,” you explained, stepping forward out of Bucky’s protection. “How do you measure time when you can leap across it? When you spend as much time moving backward as forward? What you really want to know is…” you paused with a raised eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

“How many times,” Steve and Dr. Strange finished together. Steve’s entire body rolled at the realization. The gravity and loss contained in this knowledge. The failure. Strange only stared, somewhat awed and angry that he’d so underestimated you.

“To be honest I’ve lost count of how many times I have relived this moment.”

Bucky was stunned. His jaw, usually so resolute, hung slack. He looked you over with fresh eyes. The healing scrape on your elbow – days old. The mud on your boots caked thick like you’d been in the woods for hours. Your eyes looked tired. No, not tired, drained, exhausted, worn. Even your hair was longer than it should have been, tangled and heavy. The shape of your arms was harder and stronger from fighting the same fight over. Your legs were leaner from running again and again and again. All the gentleness he so loved seemed to have been leeched from your body.

You watched a film reel of emotion dance over Bucky’s face. First horror that he hadn’t seen it before. Then anger for the danger he had failed to protect you from. Then a deep sadness for the tenderness, the playfulness you’d lost – he’d lost. In a breath, he understood why you wouldn’t be consoled. It wasn’t only grief for Loki, it was grief for the person you’d lost. If you could go this far, were you still the same?

“What have you done?” the words slipped out in a heart-broken whisper before he could catch them. They broke across your skin like the sting of sleet and you turned to him with eyes wide, brimming, and desperate.

“I did what I had to!” you cried, grabbing both his hands in yours, clinging to him, begging him to understand, to see you through the carnage. “Don’t you see? It’s my turn now. I have to protect us, to save you. And I will re-write history until the end of time; until there’s nothing left of it to write, if I have to.”

“But you can’t, can you,” Strange’s voice seemed so far away. Yet in one sentence it crushed the dream you had been building. “You can’t save them all.”

“Yes I can,” your gaze never left Bucky’s, your eyes pleading through the hurricane at the gates. “I can. And I will. I w—I would call in every last one of you Avengers. I would demand an army, armies you can’t even dream of. I would rain hell. I’d try anything before I walked away from you.”

Bucky let out a short huff of breath, heavy and fraught. He was stunned by the fire you carried. In seconds he’d watched you turn into a falling star, burning across the sky, growing with anger and desperation until you were consumed.

He shook his head slowly, minutely while he grazed the weeks-old bruise on your chin. He wondered how many battles you’d fought now, how many hits you’d taken. He’d been meant to protect you. He wondered too, when that had changed.

“None of it will help. You’ve created a time loop. The rest of us are frozen until you break it,” Strange explained. “This isn’t your happy ending; it’s a moment between breaths.” You never broke eye contact with Bucky, begging him to understand, to fight with and for you. “You can’t outrun the future forever.”

Your eyes turned to molten steel just before your gaze snapped to him. Your voice was a blade dipped in poison. “You watch me! You watch me run. I am the stone keeper! I will run to the end of this universe and back if I have to. I will run until time gives up and crumbles into ash before I let him die! I will fight until the very last star burns out like a cinder under my heel.”

Bucky struggled to breathe. Watching you was like succumbing to a wildfire. All consuming and raging with grief, you directed all of that heat at Dr. Strange until you felt the cool glide of metal slip into your hand. Cold fingers eased between your own, pulling you back from the dark sky you burned against.

“Enough,” he breathed, just loud enough for you and you only. He stood quiet but certain as you turned back to him. “Enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You’ve given enough. You’ve done enough.” He traced a line down your cheek with the backs of his knuckles, gentler than a kiss, softer than a breath, even as you shattered under the new meaning he gave to your own words. “You have to stop this.”

You never even noticed the tears, as they streaked your skin. The tightness in your throat was a nuisance. But the crushing weight on your chest was unbearable, like being cleaved in two.

“I can’t,” you managed, sobbing as you spoke. “He would have your life but I can’t let you go. Haven’t they had enough from us?? I won’t let them take you.”

“I’m already gone,” he soothed, drawing you close until your forehead pressed to his, until you could see no one else, hear no one else. Only you and him. “This… time loop, buying me time… it’s only hurting you. And I can’t have that.”

A breath of a chuckle escaped through your tears.

“It’s making you something you’re not,” he continued. “You’re not a warrior. You’re a Seer. Warm as the sun; you see a cold hurt world and you can’t leave anyone to suffer in it. But this, what you’re doing, it isn’t compassion.”

“I know.”

“You’re holding the universe hostage for one life. And an old one. My number’s come up a few times already.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m trying to save you.”

He chuckled and shook his head and yours, with foreheads still together. “That’s my job – the saving.” He swept a fresh tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Yours is to be you, no matter what. You’ll choose the right thing. You were made for more than this... this fight.”

You nodded, met his sure gaze and swallowed hard. “I don’t think I’m a very good stone-keeper.”

He pulled back and shook his head with a gentle curl to his lips. “You’re just scared.”

“No,” you disagreed. “I’ve been scared before. This is something else. I think my grandfather saw you, saw this coming. He told me you’d protect me and all this time I thought it was an instruction, but I was wrong. It was a warning.”

Bucky listened, and watched, his hand slipping over your skin, up your shoulder, cupping the back of your neck and stroking your hair. Holding on for as long as he could.

“In a single night he let me lose everything I ever loved, and in the same night he told me about you. I think he was warning me that it wasn’t over. That I’d love and lose more than I’d ever known.” You took a shaky breath and spoke with a tremble, “I was never meant to carry this stone for long, I can see that now. I’ve lost so much; I won’t lose any more. I’m a selfish stone-keeper, Bucky. I would let this entire planet crumble to dust before I let anything to happen to you. I have to find a way to end this.”

“So, what comes next?” he whispered, a life between breaths.

“I don’t know. I can’t see that far, but we’re in this together now, okay? We can choose for ourselves. We can choose to end this legacy of blood. As long as I carry this stone, I’m in danger, and the world is in danger of me,” you smiled ruefully. You’d proven your strength and the lengths you’d go. You’d seen Loki’s vision, seen half the universe eliminated and still chose this. Truly, you were a danger. “As long as I carry this stone, I will run to this fight. And as long as you are beholden to answer when they call, you will too. Neither of us asked for this but now it’s up to us.”

He took a deep breath. Your eyes were resolute, honest, while he looked like he might startle at a sneeze. He’d been ready to sacrifice, but not like this.

“I saw a future for us once, in a dream. I don’t know if we can still have that but I want it so badly.” You spoke with urgency and conviction, but he still looked so startled and conflicted. He’d been a soldier for the better half of a century and you stood with the power of time asking him, for once, not to be a hero.

“Bucky, I want to be where you are,” you pressed on. “I want to wake up slow in a place where we don’t have to worry about who’s behind us or what fight is ahead. I want to make garbage eggs with you, with real hot sauce not something we scavenged because we’re too afraid to open the front door. I want to take a walk with you where you’re not looking over your shoulder. I want to see you as happy and as unworried as I dreamed. We can have that. We can!” You shook his hands firmly. “We can make that choice. I’m choosing us, Bucky. I think… I think I finally see what that means. But you have to choose for yourself if you need to keep up this fight.”

His hand gently curled over yours, not holding on, not demanding, not promising, only pressing you closer for this moment you had. For a moment between breaths, he had everything. Even if the next breath ended it all.

Too quickly, your fingers slipped out of his, and you stood before Dr. Strange, talking in surreptitious murmurs. Furtive glances down at the stone hanging about your neck had the breath catching in his throat.

This had been his mission. You were his mission. You were more, and he hated this new plan and his role in it, but his protests had been dismissed. If it were up to him, absolutely nothing would entice him to put you in such danger. He knew now that you were powerful, more than him realistically, but still. It angered and saddened him to think you’d already been making yourself so vulnerable on your own. Over and over and over.

At least now, he supposed, he had some control. It was his only solace as he notched the long-range rifle into the v he’d cut into a pine bough twenty feet high. He could still smell the sharp scent of pine sap on his gloves from the work of it.

It would require every ounce of self-control to follow through. The weapon was only a rip-cord. It had been a mercy, really, to allow him a scope with which to watch over you. He could not – under any circumstances – give away his position or it would all be over and they’d be right be right back where they were with you frantically trying to undo time, re-stitch his wounds, and rewrite the future. Loki couldn’t know his position.

Plan A: he only watched and waited, hating every second. Plan B: he made a kill shot and they tried again.

With endlessly rehearsed steps you moved toward the cabin’s malfunctioning generator. You climbed over the downed tree, just as before, just as always. You recited the same words like a spell to conjure the trickster god. Calling to Bucky who, just this once, would make no answer. The black dagger flew by your head as you feigned tripping. Your boots were tied tight this time. You were prepared.

“Loki,” you breathed, drawing him forth from the shadows like a sleeping memory hidden in the deep.

“Stone-keeper. I’d hoped to keep this between the two of us,” he looked irritated, but you didn’t startle, not this time.

“So do I,” you snarled and clutched the amulet in a tight fist close to your body.

A wicked smile dragged over his features. It curled his lips, lit his eyes, and drew his shoulders forward. He looked more like a prowling cat than a man as he matched each step you took away from him. When finally, you turned at a full sprint into the cold damp woods, he stood for a moment, surprised, before a laugh bubbled up his throat.

Wet musty earth erupted beside you, spraying dark rain over your head as you ducked beneath the shelter of an ancient pine. Chest heaving, lungs burning, you hazarded a look over your shoulder. While you ran, he strolled, letting the scepter do the heavy lifting. Another streak of blue electrified fire ripped through the trees sending splinters and cosmic energy out in ripples.

His laughter began to echo as you skidded to a stop. The fear momentarily outpaced reason as your boots crunched onto the first few steps of frozen lake. The memory of your dream clawed at your brain like hoarfrost but you pressed on.

The water had begun to seep up over the ice in gurgles and your feet were wet and cold. Each step made a crude sloshing noise that matched the untethered rushing of blood in your ears. Fifty feet out, you slid onto your knees when the hard crystals beneath you began to creak and moan.

“You’re rather a difficult person to pin down,” Loki called out over the lake, voice calm and clear as a bell as he stepped onto the ice.

You didn’t speak. Fear and anger beat too strong for words. The ice shifted beneath you like a heaving boat as he moved closer with heavy, unrelenting strides.

“You’re right. Enough small talk. We’ve waited for this moment long enough, you and I,” the grin remained.

“You,” your voice came out an acrid hiss, “have destroyed everything I have ever loved.”

His tongue clicked against his teeth before an exaggerated frown curdled his features in mockery of you. “Well, that’s not quite true, is it? Not yet anyway.” He glanced purposefully up the hill in the direction you knew Bucky waited patiently with a rifle trained expertly on this spot, where you promised to be.

From his perch in the tall pine, Bucky’s jaw clenched. He could hear nothing, but he caught a flash of grinning white teeth as Loki looked up the hill. Too close to be coincidence. He considered firing; he’d always liked Plan B better anyway.

There was nothing more in this world that Bucky wanted than to gently squeeze the trigger. He was physically itching to do it, to pluck this murderous thorn from his side. But instead, he waited, because that’s what Strange told him he must do to keep you safe.

“Now, give me the stone and I won’t be forced to take any more from you.”

“It won’t help,” you almost laughed your answer back at Loki. “I know what you’re so afraid of, and it won’t be enough.”

“You know nothing,” Loki snapped, accustomed to being the smartest in the room. “You simple Midgardians have no idea what lies past your own noses. You least of all, cowering in the woods with the power to unwind time. You could remake the universe to your liking but you tremble at your own gift.”

“It won’t stop Thanos.”

For the first time, Loki stopped his slow progression forward. He eyed you carefully. “Did the sorcerer tell you this?”

You laughed, sharp and bitter. “Now it’s you who cannot see. This is not the first time we’ve met, Asgardian. I have been on this very spot, with you, more times than I can count.”

“Then the odds must be in my favor.” He stepped forward again. A wicked smirk made him seem bolder, wilder, more dangerous.

“No. You see, I’ve had the luxury of time. Of learning. I’ve seen you murder me and everyone I love,” your eyes instinctively glanced up the hill toward Bucky. “Over and over and over. And while those realities might not exist anymore, they were real. I haven’t forgotten and I know you.”

“And you expect me to grovel now, stone-keeper? You think you’ve out-witted me and you want me to what? To beg your forgiveness and weep? Tell you that I didn’t mean to do any of it?” Loki slid forward, gilded boots scraping against the ever-thinning surface of the lake. Suddenly the silver scepter smashed hard against the ice. Cold water bubbled up like a spring. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to prevent Thanos from taking that stone. And if I must, I will slaughter you like I did your grandfather. You too will die in this barren, frozen waste. Completely alone.”

“No, I won’t. But I have seen you die,” you hazarded a step toward him, rage and hate building beneath your skin, deep in your muscles, down to the bone. “You will claw and gasp for even your very last breath in the emptiness of space. It won’t be my hand around your throat, but it will be the reality I chose for you. Remember that, Loki Odinson.”

His grin widened as heavy strides closed in on your resolute form. “You will decide nothing. I know true power when I see it, and you have none.”

When a splinter in the ice creaked to a waiting cavern between your muddy boots and his golden ones, you froze. He, however, lunged forward with incredible speed, as if there were lightning in his veins instead of ice. A tight fist closed over your wrist and he tore the talisman from your neck.

The chain bit into your skin and burned as it snapped. This was nothing to the fire in his Loki's clear blue eyes as he held the hurriedly welded replica in a trembling palm. This pain was nothing to the pressure he now applied to your wrist, overcome with frustration. Finally his fist closed over the painted stone and the entire trinket crumbled to pieces.

Your smirk faded when he slammed the palm of his hand against your forehead.

You gasped as a memory formed, unbidden, at least by you. The golden shimmering vision unfolded clear as the moment it happened, the moment you lifted the talisman off your neck for the first time since you’d opened the package from your grandfather on that fateful day so long ago. Loki shared in your memory now, watching intently as you passed the Eye of Agamotto, the time stone, into the hands of Stephen Strange.

“You fool.” A bitter laugh pushed through Loki’s sharp nose. “You are an ancient stone-keeper, it was your inheritance and legacy, and you passed such a treasure to a second-rate sorcerer! To a conjurer of-of-of cheap tricks and…” he finally lifted scowling eyes when he heard a sharp crack at his feet.

Bucky’s rifle had carved a blistering hole in the freshly formed ice between you and Loki. The second crack was deeper, solid and echoing. This time it was the lake itself. The chasm between you erupted, spilling water over the surface and soaking your feet.

It was just like your dream, and your feet moved, unbidden, pedaling backward. But Loki followed at the unrelenting pace of a predator.

“Do you think I fear the cold?!” he shouted to you and Bucky and anyone else who might hear. “You ignorant child. I am born of it.” He knelt down, forest green cloak pooling at his feet and pressed one bare palm to the ice. While your face morphed into cold shock, his grin widened as the cold seeped into his skin, turning it a pale, unearthly shade of blue. As he rose again, the color spread higher like ink in water until he was covered in it. “But you were born with tender, warm-blooded Midgardian flesh. Such paltry armor.”

With a single downward thrust he smashed the scepter into the ice with all his might, sending a burst of blue over the surface. The chasm between you yawned wide to swallow you both. Water, glacial cold, crawled up your calves as the ice heaved beneath your feet and you slid towards the opening.

You swallowed the fear, and glanced toward the shore, to where Bucky now stood, shouting. This was not fear, though. You knew fear. Knew it when a dark shadowy dagger had ripped the life from Bucky before your eyes.

No, this was not fear, this was consequence. Finally. The tears sprang forth with a laugh as hope bloomed in your chest. Hope for life, even if not your own. Hope for a future, for a man you saved over and over. Hope that these Avengers whose protection you once sought, would return the salvation you now gave to one of their own.

It came in a rush of golden, glimmering light. A bright orange glow spinning below the delicate wet ice at Loki’s feet. Within the ring, deep grey clouds rolled with lightning. It thundered angry and sharp as the ice burst open with a groan.

Loki fell into the thundering portal, to his brother, to Asgard and imprisonment. You, however, a few feet away, fell into a world so cold your lungs seized, your throat closed, and your eyes bulged. You couldn’t have taken a breath if you’d wanted to. The water slipped higher and higher until you were submerged, skin somehow simultaneously prickling with cold, and numb with it.

The broken ice shifted overhead until you couldn’t see the surface. Your fists slammed against the ice, begging for an opening that didn’t exist. As your lungs heaved, you realized the deal you’d made…

“You should keep it,” you’d admitted then. “But only if he lives.”

Dr. Strange had agreed, had vanished to find a prison worthy of a god from space. And your life? You’d wielded the power of an infinity stone for uncounted days. It hadn’t even occurred to you that you’d need to guarantee your own safety.

It was merciful then that the cold would cloud your brain before the oxygen starved your lungs and your limbs. Just as you allowed the darkness to close over you, to calm you, a silver fist crashed through the ice and plunged into the water, impervious to the cold.

Light streamed down around the glimmering metal plates as he reached for you. Too cold and hypoxic to grasp his outstretched hand, you drifted, watching with clouded eyes and heavy limbs. He closed a tight fist around the cloth at your throat and hoisted you, blinking, clinging in gasping breaths to consciousness.

Part 22 (epilogue) >>

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader angst #bodyguard bucky #infinity stone bucky fanfic #avengers fanfic

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

A Twice Broken Man

summary: Knowing what will happen if Hydra ever captures him again, Bucky asks the impossible of you. The road to recovery is not an easy one. pairing: bucky x reader warnings: smut (18+), canon level violence, mentions of torture, PTSD symptoms (nightmares, dissociative episode), suicidal thoughts, trauma recovery a/n: this is the dark and sad one I was warning you about. please check the warnings

There’s a hand on your forearm, a slight squeeze, and it takes you a minute to register that it is Bucky’s hand, that it is his thumb brushing in sweeps over the goosebumps on your skin. It’s cold, calloused, still as gentle as he’s ever been, but there’s a nervousness there, a hesitancy, and it runs like ice in your veins.

Time stands still for an impossible minute and you realize you’re taking too long to respond. Ocean blue eyes search yours with a cautious concern and you’re certain you’ve never heard anything worse than the request Bucky has just asked of you. Your stomach wretches as the words echoes in the back of your mind, threatening to tear you to pieces.

He parts his lips, hand trailing in gentle sweeping motions down your arm, and he asks again.

“Sweetheart please. I can’t go back to them. If it ever comes to it, I need you to do this for me.”

You close your eyes. Tears sting over the bridge of your nose. He should have waited for another time to ask this. Not when you’re both laying between sheets, bare and flustered, hearts still racing, the feel of him lingering between your legs.

It’s an impossible question but he’s asking it anyway.

He’s asking for you to end his life.

You know his history with Hydra, spent enough nights curled up against him under the thin layer of cotton sheets and against the damp sweat of his chest to see the damage they’ve caused him, heard the screams from his lips and seen the tears in his eyes.

Decades of pain, of suffering and humiliation, of agony and loss.

They broke and mutilated him. They ripped him from the inside out.

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t feel this kind of twist at your heart because maybe, on some level, you understand. If you had gone through what he had, maybe you’d be asking him of the same thing.

“Bucky, I... I can’t...” you say, voice so soft you wonder for a moment if he’s even heard you. There’s a disappointment in his eyes, a sadness etched into every feature on his face, and you know that he had.

You curl your arms tighter under the pillow, tucking the side of your face against the cushion to brush away the tears he’s already seen. There’s more than just shock and desolation plunging through your chest like the sharp edge of a blade; there’s anger, too, and you grit your teeth to keep it from spilling out.

Bucky brushes the cool metal of his fingers along your cheek, wiping away the lingering evidence of your tears and the refusal dies on your tongue. It’s in the way he touches you, watches you, like he cherishes every moment.

He does.

The anger fades and you’re left with heartbreak.

“Only if Hydra ever gets a hold of me again,” he reminds you.

He says it like it’s a far distant possibility, like his request is only precautionary, like it might not ever come to that. But you know he thinks about it more often that he admits. It’s the frequent theme of the terrors that come for him in the dead of night.

“You can’t ask that of me,” you whisper. You can barely meet his eye. Not with how desperately he’s watching you.

“Steve would never understand. He wouldn’t be able to do it.”

A sharp sting punctures through your chest.

“And you think I could?” You’re colder than you intend, harsher too, and the heartbreak of it reads on his face.

Bucky sighs, leaning in to press his lips to your wrist. Warm, pillowy soft. He’s patient with you, kind, even in his darkest moments and somehow that makes it hurt more.

“I think you know me better than anyone, sweetheart,” Bucky says sadly. He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he starts to play with the ends of your hair, twirling it around his fingers, sweeping it behind your ear, almost lost in the feel of you. Fingertips trail over the bare skin of your back, gentle patterns before he continues. “You’ve seen the worst of my recovery. I can’t-- I won’t survive it again, Y/n. If it goes south tomorrow and the team can’t get me out in time, you’re the best marksman we have.”

You shake your head, lower lip quivering as the tears well in your eyes. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s gone too soon.

“I can’t go back to them,” he says again because he’s already decided.

The muscle aches in your jaw before you realize how tight you’ve clenched it.

“It would be saving me,” he urges, almost begging and it breaks your heart. The warmth of his breath is hot against your shoulder the closer he pulls himself against you. The cool metal of his left arm rests around the small of your back, his lips kiss at your shoulder blade.

“Baby, please.”

Tomorrow would be his first mission against Hydra operatives since his pardon and joining the Avengers nearly a year ago. Steve was careful to keep him away from anything that could possibly trigger him, regardless of the words that had been erased from his subconscious, because even he knew that there was more that could trigger Bucky than just a series of Russian words. It wasn’t just the Winter Soldier he was worried about.

But Bucky was ready, he told you, and you really want to believe him.

Finally, you nod, because you never knew how to say no to Bucky. You never really wanted to until this moment. How could you deny a man you loved with every part of yourself? He held your heart in the palm of his hand, your secrets, your intimacy, your soul. It was all his.

The relief melts through his muscles and you feel the curve of his lips against you. He pulls himself closer, murmurs how much he loves you under his breath before he drifts off to sleep.

You don’t sleep much of all.

***

Bucky's request goes unanswered for nearly two years.

He never tells Steve about what he asked of you. The two of you never speak of it again and still, it lingers.

It’s always on your mind. It’s the first thought to rush to the surface when Hydra’s name is evoked in the debriefing room and you have to control the race of your heartbeat before Natasha’s perceptive eyes pick up on it.

You wonder each time as you strap your weapons to your suit and load onto the quinjet if this was the day you’d destroy the other half of your heart.

It’s agony, but you hold it inside.

You deal with the pain of it by sitting closer to him in the hanger, hip to hip, until your thigh sits at the length of his. You lean against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his to tug him as close as you can manage and he’ll press a kiss to the crown of your head, letting it brush over your hair. You hold his hand as long as you’re able before you step foot off the landing pad and you’re thrown into the chaos of enemy fire.

You savor every moment.

But it’s the nights before that hurt the most.

It's when he’s inside you and the headboard clicks softly against the wall with every roll of his hips. It's when he kisses at your pulse points, wetness of his tongue and the heat of his breath against the chill on your skin. It’s when your walls clench and a breathless moan escapes him, his eyes fluttering closed, hand gripping tight to the bedpost.

There’s a twist in your heart evert time he shudders above you, when he whispers through bated breaths that he adores you, that your tightness is like heaven to him, and his fingers circle at nerve endings between your legs that sent a rush of heat through you.

Pieces of you shatter even as you find your high and he releases inside you with rushed and uneven thrusts, even as he drops his body weight onto you and you worship the pressure, the heaviness of him sinking you into the mattress.

It hurts even with skin glistening, a damp layer of sweat on the line of his hair, as he smiles at you like you were made of sun and stars and galaxy.

He likes to rest in you for some time after you’ve both finished, just studying you, tracing his fingers over your jawline, a simple kiss to your cheek, before he’ll slide out to disappear to the bathroom to wash his release from between your legs.

You never feel as empty as you do when he pulls away.

He loves you. You know that.

But he breaks your heart.

And so you hide the tears from him before he returns, wondering if you just had your last night with him, wondering if you’ll ever feel the pulse of him inside you again, or if tomorrow would be the day he’ll ask the impossible of you.

***

It happens on a Thursday and you’re entirely unprepared for it.

What was supposed to be a straightforward data hack of an unmanned Hydra base in Warsaw quickly turned into a full-scale combat zone in a matter of seconds. Hydra agents flood through the halls like they’re peeling out from behind the wallpaper, coming in from all angles. You’re overwhelmed before you can call for reinforcements.

Steve is on your left, Natasha on your right; each fighting off three agents on their own, collecting nicks in their suits, scrapes to their exposed skin, and bruises underneath. Energy draining fast with another round of combatants ahead of you, you search for Bucky over the shoulder of the man charging at you with a knife in hand.

You side step him easily, elbowing him hard enough in the middle of his back to pull a pained grunt out of him. Eyes dart across the floor, seeking out long brown hair and the shine of silver reflecting under florescent lights.

You’re distracted.

Sharp pain burns in your thigh and you looked down to find a knife embedded in your leg, the sinister grin of the man at your feet below. Red oozes from the wound and stains the black of your suit, but you don’t feel much of it. Adrenaline is too high for that now.

You let out a guttural shout, yanking the knife from your muscle and plunge it down into the man’s neck. The blood that bubbles in his mouth doesn’t faze you, nor does the quick spread of red in a pool at your feet.

You leave footprints behind in the mess as you sprint out in search of Bucky.

It’s hard to breath without him. It feels like punctured holes in your lungs and anvils on your chest. Your hands are sweating, heart pounding, and you don’t think before you shoot the three men advancing on you from behind. They stumble to the ground in a heap and it does nothing to ease your panic.

“Bucky!” you shout over the gunfire, but there’s a part of you that knows he won’t hear you.

You rush into the adjoining hall where he was supposed to be stationed with Steve but got separated once the sirens began to scream and red flashing lights flickered through the hallway. Hydra agents must have jump between them, forcing Bucky to retreat while Steve was pushed in your direction.

There was no answer on the coms when you call for him.

The handle of your gun is burning hot in your hand. It stings against your palm and you’re certain it will blister, but when you release your grip long enough to check, your hand is clear, save for the red splatter stained on your skin.

You try not to think of the fate of this gun as you sprint through the double doors at the end of the hall where the light outside is blinding.

With a hand shielding your eyes from the sun, you spot the Hydra agents’ aim their weapons and you dive behind a barricade of supplies. Bullets embed themselves into the wall behind you, denting the frame.

Cocking the hammer of your gun and releasing a bullet casing, you suck in a deep breath. It takes a moment before air fills your lungs, but when you step out to fire, you freeze in your tracks.

Two men carry Bucky limply towards a cargo truck, each holding onto an arm as his feet drag along the dirt behind him. Blood coats down over his mouth, spilling in violent sweeps from his nose and his eyes are falling heavy, head bobbing. He doesn’t notice you and you’ve never seen him like this before; mangled and heavy, like a rag doll.

“Bucky!” you scream, voice cracking in the effort and you fire three shots at the Hydra agents around him. Only one falls to the ground and another quickly takes his place, the others protected by a shield of technology your bullets would not pierce.

Your cry seems to get through to him because Bucky’s head jolts up, blood coughing away from his lips and he looks up with wide, fearful eyes, to realize where he’s at, who’s hands are on him. You can see the panic from nearly fifty feet away.

He fights back but it’s not with his usual smooth, calculated movements, where every hit has a purpose and each step is intentional. No, this time it’s feral, unnerved. The scream that leaves him is broken and laced with a fear you’ve only heard in the dead of night.

You try to step forward, but a reign of bullets fire in your direction and you throw yourself behind the barrier. From the ground, you spot a single opening between the cases shielding you from Hydra’s fire and you toss your handgun to the side. You yank the rifle from the latch on your back, adjusting your position to get a better shot through the crates.

Through the scope, you can see more clearly and you’re not sure if this is worse.

Bucky sees you, eyes locking on your position and there’s only a second of relief before a taser is plunged into his side and his whole body starts to convulse. Your hands shake as his eyes roll back and his body falls slack. You lose sight of ocean blue and you can’t breathe.

You fire four rounds at the men around him and one by one they drop, heads snapping back in the impact. The victory is short lived before four more dart out from the shadows to replace them. You shoot again. More come.

“Steve, I--” your voice trembles into the com, “They’ve-- they’ve got Bucky.”

You barely register Steve tell you he’s on his way.

There’s too many of them. Too many to slow down on your own. There's no time to wait for Steve.

You step out from behind the barricade and it seems Hydra is no longer interested in you as they attempt to hull Bucky into the back of the van.

He’s struggling against them, weakened by the electricity in his veins strong enough to bring down an elephant. It's like he’s moving through water, resistance against his limbs and heavy weight on his body.

It’s when he meets your eyes from across the lot that the final splinter in your heart snaps and it shatters like glass. You see it on his lips, the pleading. The blue of his eyes glazes over; he’s scared – no, more than scared – he’s petrified, and his whole body is trembling.

Now, he mouths, or maybe he’d screaming. You can’t tell. Please, do it now.

You shake your head. Your hand is gripped so impossibly tight to the handle of your gun that your muscles ache from it. Tears blur your vision and you blink them away. They burn as they clear the grim from your cheeks and run to your jaw.

You try to tell him you can’t, that your hand is shaking so badly you’d never be able to aim properly, not even sure your body would allow you to even aim a weapon at him to begin with, but he’s asking again, he’s begging.

He smiles for you, subtle and aching, but he nods, tries to tell you it’s okay. He tells you he loves you and time moves impossibly slow as harsh hands shove and pull at him and he does his best to fight back.

You’re running out of time and he knows it. He’s growing more desperate, pleading on an endless loop.

Please. Baby, please.

Do it now.

I’m ready, honey. It’s okay.

Shoot!

Your finger moves to the trigger and it’s never felt as heavy as it does in this moment. You’re crying and it’s near impossible to see, but you watch as Bucky nods vigorously, trying to encourage you, urging the love of his life to spare him from what is about to happen.

I love you.

You can do this.

It’ll be alright.

Do it now, honey. Please.

But you can’t.

The gun falls to your side and Bucky stills almost instantly.

You can’t quite read the rush of emotion on his face because there’s too much of it but you can still see the panic, the surge of unrelenting fear, the shock of betrayal in his eyes. He fights harder now, shouting out, though his voice is raspy and his body is falling weak.

Gunfire rings out next to you and you realize Steve is at your side. You don’t know how long he’s been there but as Hydra agents shove Bucky into the back of the cargo hold and out of sight, you fall to your knees and the look Steve sends you is one of disbelief.

He’s furious. He’s scared. He’s devastated.

It’s everything you feel.

Steve sprints off after the van as it accelerates down the street, but you know it’s useless. He can chase it for miles but he won’t catch up. His stamina will only last so long.

You’re alone for a while, out in the open lot, with bloodied bodies around you of the men you’d killed. Some laying in piles, red pools oozing out from under them.

You hardly notice Natasha sink down next to you silently, her hand slip over yours and squeezing just enough to ground you. You nearly break down completely when you spot Steve rushing back towards you from the end of the road.

Alone.

“What the hell was that?” he snaps, panting, hands shaking out of rage. You don’t respond because you simply don’t know how. He’s pacing now and Natasha warns him to calm down, but he can’t. “What happened, Y/n!?”

“There were too many of them,” you try to explain, hating how shaken your voice sounds. “I tried to pick them off but they just kept coming back and--”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Steve grits his teeth, voice wound tight in a coil. His hands clench and release at his side. He takes a deep breath, straightens his back and glances to the open road where Bucky was taken.

“I saw you aim the gun at him.”

You feel the jolt puncture through your chest before Natasha even has a chance to flinch. You grip at the fabric of your suit over your thighs and you try to remember the feel of Bucky’s hands, but you can’t. He’s already lost to you.

You look up to Steve and his face is red. He doesn’t understand. Just as Bucky said he wouldn’t.

“Steve, I--”

“What the fuck is the matter with you!” he shouts, throwing his arms in the air. He can’t stand still. “Why would you—What were you thinking?”

Natasha pulls herself to her feet, trying to calm Steve with a brush of her hand over his shoulder but he shoves her aside. He points a finger at you but his hand is shaking, so he wraps it into a fist. Curse words die on his tongue as Natasha pulls him a few feet away, speaking quietly to him, calmly, and you don’t try to listen in. The ringing in your ears is too loud for that.

“Why would she--” Steve starts again, but Natasha grabs his hands, trying to pull his attention.

“Steve, stop--” she urges but it’s no use.

“I thought she was gonna--”

“Calm down, Rogers.”

“She had a gun aimed at his head, Nat!” Steve shoves her away, running his hand over his mouth. He doesn’t know what to say. You almost killed his best friend. Steve doesn’t usually lose control like this. It’s a foreign feeling in his body and it doesn’t sit well. “Why would you--”

“He asked me to,” you confess, voice so soft you can barely hear it so when Steve silences, it surprises you. You look up at him, tears glossing over your eyes and you stand under shaky legs. “He’d rather die than be subjected to Hydra’s torture again, Steve. He didn’t think he could survive it a second time, but I—I couldn’t do it.”

“No-- No, Bucky wouldn’t--” he turns to Nat, seeking answers he wouldn’t find. “He wouldn’t.”

You look to the ground. There is nothing that will make this easier.

“He would,” Natasha says. Steve won’t stop pacing and she sighs. “He knew what would happen if Hydra ever got ahold of him again. They’ll try to take his memories. They'll torture him, throw him in that goddamn chair. They’d break him all over again.”

Steve nearly collapses against the outer wall of the building, unable to hold himself as the truth of your confession sinks in. The pieces were all there but Steve was too stubborn to see them.

Bucky’s trauma hadn’t healed nearly as much as he thought. He just wanted his friend back. It was all he ever wanted. It blinded him from who Bucky was today, to his pain and suffering under the surface.

Natasha grabs onto Steve’s hand, seeking out your own as well. She squeezes it lightly as it reminds you of Bucky. That, somehow, hurts worse.

“We’ll find him before they can put the triggers back in his head,” Nat says sternly, like she actually means it. But Natasha is a world class liar and you wonder if she believes it herself. She squeezes your hand again and your feel like your bones might snap. “We’ll bring him home.”

***

It takes nearly five weeks before you find him.

Five weeks of hell you could have spared him of.

You wonder if he’ll even be himself when you see him, if he ever will be again. You wonder if he will forgive you.

Steve takes out nearly twelve men on his own before you have a chance to fire. The vengeance running through his veins is enough to keep him going. You follow behind on unsteady feet.

Steve has a kind of hope you never learned how to carry. He believes that finding Bucky will be enough, that bringing him home and rescuing him from this place is the same as saving him.

It’s not.

There’s more than just the imprisonment of these walls and the torture of vile men that he will need to be freed of. There’s something this place roots deep inside of him that breaks and tears at his core until he feels like he might cave in on himself. It was what he was afraid of. It was why he asked of you what he did.

“I’ve got a heat signature matching Bucky’s description in a cell four down from here,” Nat says from behind you, eyeing the small monitor in her hand. She points to the right side of the wall and Steve takes out a guard just as he turns the corner. He’s past the point of asking questions before he shoots.

The hall is empty by the time you reach the cell Nat is referring to. Steve’s hand juts out to the handle and he snaps off the locks with the brunt of his gun, but Natasha stills him quickly with a grasp on his shoulder. He pauses, looking to her through furrowed eyes and she nods towards you. A silent warning for him to stand down.

You don’t know how she learned to read you so well, but you're grateful for it. Steve nods, lips pressed to a thin line and he steps aside, pressing his back to the wall by the door and standing guard. Natasha smiles softly at you, doing the same.

“We’ll be right here,” she tells you because you need the reminder.

The grip of the door is cold under the heat of your palms and the creak of the hinges is near deafening. You wince as you pull it open and it nearly slams closed behind you as you step inside from the weight of itself, but Steve shoves his boot between the frame to keep it propped open. None of you know what to expect and the Winter Soldier himself is not out of the realm of possibilities.

The moment you see him, it’s hard to stay steady on your feet. Your knees lock, legs feeling like putty and you lean against the wall for support.

Bucky sits in the far corner of the room, knees pulled up to his chest, stare facing the opposite wall. He doesn’t notice you as you stumble closer, trying to choke back the tears welling behind your eyes.

It’s like he’s catatonic. His arms wrapped around his knees, metal hand clamping onto flesh wrist where the skin is red and raw beneath.

You sink down by his side and still, he doesn’t move. Blue eyes locked on concrete over your shoulder and you swear it’s like he sees right through you. You lick at your lips, breath caught in your throat and you try to reach out to touch him but can’t seem to let your hands fall to his skin, to his muscle, to metal.

There are open wounds on his face; a large scar running from the center of his forehead to his left temple that is red and angry and likely infected from the swelling, and various cuts and scrapes and discoloration along his cheekbones. You can see jagged marks peeking out from under the thin layer of a ratted shirt they gave him after they must have stripped him of his stealth suit.

“Bucky,” you choke out, voice thick with tears and he doesn’t even flinch. You clench your jaw, biting down until you taste copper in your mouth. Sniffling back your own pain, you try again. “Sweetheart, look at me. We’re gonna bring you home. Steve and Nat are right outside the door, okay? You’re safe now, honey.”

He doesn’t so much as blink.

“God, what did they do to you?” you whisper. It’s not a question you expect him to answer.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out for him, hovering over his forearm for a moment before you touch him.

It happens in a split second.

Bucky’s head snaps to you, eyes wide, fearful, and he lunges at you, sending you onto your back as he climbs on top of you. His hand snakes around your throat before you can stop him and your nails dig into the concrete below.

Bucky’s eyes hold no recognition as he stares down at you, still lost, still glazed, and you wonder if he thinks this is a dream or some kind of cruel game.

“B-Bucky,” you gasp, clawing at his hand but it’s solid and metal and it does no use.

Your legs squirm under him but he holds them down easily with his weight around your waist. He pushes down harder on your windpipe and your lungs burn like fire. Your head is pulsing, face red, and you swat up at him until you see a slight flicker of realization before he shoves it away.

He’s in there – you know it – but he’s trapped; locked behind a trauma response or a dissociative state or something but he’s there. It means you can get through to him.

From the corner of your eye, you spot Steve rushing into the room but you hold up your hand, warning him to stay back. He pauses, unsure, frantically eyeing Bucky as he squeezes at your throat, but you wave him back. He doesn’t leave the room but he stands still.

Vision starting to tunnel, you reach up to Bucky’s face. Your movements are no longer wild and panicked, and you brush the hair shielding his eyes behind his ear. That seems to startle him but he doesn’t shove you away. Your palm rests tenderly against his cheek and your thumb brushes delicately along the bruising along his jawline.

His eyes flicker to yours, confused, and they dart around him for a moment, breaths heavy in his chest. Your hand falls away from him as your body weakens and you can vaguely make out Steve’s footsteps as he sprints forward and suddenly the pressure on your throat releases and Bucky’s weight leaves you.

You suck in a harsh breath and it burns.

It feels like shards of glass in your windpipe and you jolt upright. Vision restoring quickly though in blurred haze and black spots, you realize Steve hadn’t even made it halfway across the room.

You turn sharply to find Bucky scrambling away from you, hands shaking violently, a world of emotion on his face he didn’t have just moments before; fear, devastation, guilt, relief.

Blue eyes meet yours and he breaks down almost instantly. His whole body racks with sobs and he tries to hide himself, shielding his face with his forearms as he curls up to the corner but you crawl towards him. You don’t try to speak because you know the coarseness of it will only make this worse, but when you gather him into your arms, he comes willingly.

His head rests against your shoulder, his right arm clinging around your waist and he holds his left as far away from you as he can manage. Tears are wet against your skin and he’s shaking as he cries, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” on an endless loop.

You kiss his forehead, hoping to calm him, to tell him it’s alright because your voice is useless and you don’t dare test it. Your breathing comes in through raspy gasps and Bucky flinches with every damaged inhale.

Steve waits from the center of the room, just watching, and his eyes are burning red, hand shaking at his side. You don’t know if Steve’s ever seen Bucky like this before, but it devastates him. It breaks him.

It breaks all of you.

***

Bucky isn’t himself for a long time.

It takes weeks before you can convince him to leave your room to eat something in the kitchen or go on a walk around the compound.

He’s lost weight and muscle mass from his time at Hydra and even more since then. He barely speaks and when he does, he can’t meet your eye. You try to wear sweaters and scarfs that cover the bruising on your neck, but he knows it’s there. His eyes burn with tears whenever he catches a glimpse of his handprint upon your skin.

It doesn't help that Cho barred you from speaking for nearly an entire week and when you finally do again, it comes out broken and rough and Bucky flinches when you first say his name.

***

One month home and he still won’t touch you.

It’s not because you broke your promise to him and he tells you as often as you’ll hear it. It was too much, he says, he never should have put that on you, and yet, you can’t help but feel responsible for every scream in the middle of the night, every cry he tries to hide from you, every flinch away from your touch.

He won’t touch you because he’s terrified of losing control again, of attacking the woman he loves and he doesn’t know how to reconcile that.

So, he keeps to his side of the bed and withers his way out of your embrace after you’ve fallen asleep. It hurts him to do so, but he’s not sure he has another choice. He’s terrified he’ll snap again at any moment and you won’t be able to wake him up this time.

***

It’s two months before you see him smile again.

You’re sitting on the couch together, a generous space between your bodies you do not challenge and Sam trips over the edge of the table, spilling his bowl of popcorn high into the air before it lands in sweeps along the floor and over his back. Tony is practically in tears and you’re biting your lip for Sam’s sake, though you can’t help the grin aching in your cheeks.

You look over to Bucky and the corner of his lip twinges. It’s subtle and it fades almost instantly but it was there. He meets your eye for a moment and he pushes out another for you. It’s tight and forced but he’s trying.

You smile back and remind yourself not to reach for his hand.

***

Bucky never tells you, or anyone, what happened in his five weeks held by Hydra. He attempts to ease your conscious by telling you they never attempted the chair again or the trigger words, but somehow that hurts more. It leaves you wondering what else could have happened to hurt him like this, what could possibly be worse.

Fury grants your request for leave while Bucky recovers and you spend most of your days trying to peel away the darkness he’s holding onto. It’s thick and heavy and clinging onto him for dear life but slowly, inch by inch, shadow by shadow, it releases him.

When enough light can peer through, he starts to let you touch him again. It’s nearly three months after he came home.

You give him warning each time, letting his eyes watch as your hand comes to him and lands upon his skin. He needs the time to prepare for it. It takes him a moment to ease into it and remind himself that your touch is wanted, craved even, and he relaxes after a moment and asks for more.

It starts out with holding his hand and moves to playing with his hair. He prefers behind the one to touch you. He likes when you let him run his fingers in loose patterns over your back. It’s something he always did before, though that feels like a lifetime ago to him.

***

Eventually, he asks if you’ll shower with him.

It’s a big step, one that surprises you when he asks but you agree without hesitation.

“I want to get better,” he says timidly, standing in the bathroom fully clothed in three day old pajamas. He struggles to meet your eye but when he does, the blue is aching with shame. “I know you won’t hurt me but I... I can’t explain it. I don’t know why this is so hard for me.”

“It’s okay,” you remind him, careful not to step forward and invade his space. “You just tell me what you need, alright? Tell me if it’s too much.”

He nods and his hands play with the ends of his shirt. He hasn’t been bare before you since he was taken.

“I can go first, if you want?” you offer, gesturing to your clothes and he nods, thankful.

He's seen you naked before. You’d been together for a few years before he was taken but something about this feels different. It feels new, almost like the first time.

The air is cold against your skin as you pull the cotton t-shirt over your head and let it slip to the floor. Your nipples pebble against the chill and you notice Bucky’s eyes drawn to your chest. It doesn’t embarrass you. You like the way he watches you and it reminds you of the days before he was taken.

You smile at him, nodding for his turn.

Bucky takes a deep breath and tugs his metal arm through the sleeves of his shirt before pulling the rest over his head and letting it fall down his right arm. You realize then why he kept himself from you for so long.

A gasp in your throat, hand darting up to cover your lips, your eyes fall upon dozens of faded scars lining his chest and stomach. You imagine there’s more on his back, but it’s not the scars themselves that scare you. It’s the patterns carved against him. Deliberate and meaningful.

They spell out words.

Monster

Hydra

Soldier

Asset

Killer

Some in English, some in Russian you don’t understand and you bite down hard on your cheek to keep from crying. This isn’t about you, you tell yourself in an attempt to will your tears away, and you lower your hands to your sides.

“I wanted to tell you,” he mumbles, eyes on the floor.

“It’s okay, honey,” you say and you feel like a broken record, but you do mean it.

You take your pants off next, then your underwear, and Bucky follows suit. Neither of you are shy about your staring because despite the pain and the trauma, you miss each other like nothing else.

Bucky steps aside and you turn on the water, feeling for the temperature for a moment until it’s at the warmth you usually prefer and you ask Bucky to test it before he steps in. He does so and nods to you. He steps in behind the curtain and you give him a moment, trying to center yourself before you follow.

“Y/n?” he calls nervously, like he’s afraid you’ll leave if he doesn’t have eyes on you.

“Right here,” you tell him and you push down the tightness in your chest to step in behind him.

The steam is warm against your skin despite Bucky blocking the stream of the water, but you don’t mind. The relief on his face, the relaxation evident in his muscles is enough for you.

You spend the next ten minutes washing his body. You tell him exactly what you’re doing before you do it and where you’re trailing the gentle motions of the cloth before you get there. His eyes are closed the whole time, a sign that his trust is building again, and you wonder as you brush over the faded scars along his back, over the word ‘devil’ carved into his shoulder blade, if Tony could find a way to remove them.

You move onto washing his hair and he has to bend down a little for you, but it makes him smile. He sighs as your fingers work the shampoo through his hair and he turns to face you as he rinses it into the water.

He’s watching you now as you condition his hair, just studying the way you purse your lips as you work, noticing the line in your forehead as you concentrate. He’s reminded of the small things, the good things, and he lets go of another shard of darkness embedded in his chest.

He lets the water rinse through his hair, leaning back into the stream of it. When he’s done, you move to reach around him to turn off the water, but his hand gently lands on your wrist to stop you.

“I could...” he paused, licking at his lips, “I could I wash you, too? If you... um... if you want?”

He’s never been so nervous with you before, so unsure of your love for him, your eagerness to have his hands on your body. He doubts whether you want him, whether you’d even allow him to touch you. The bruising faded from your neck and his eyes still flicker there.

“I would really like that,” you say, as soft as you can manage and you don’t miss his sigh of relief.

You cherish every moment of his hands upon your body, in your hair, on your scalp. Calloused fingers running along with soapy residue along your skin, over your curves. You try not to focus too hard when he brushes over your breasts. He lets you clean yourself between the legs as he steps back with a pink blush in his cheeks.

You don’t mind. Having him this close is enough. He runs the water over your shoulders, soothing away the suds, and you close your eyes in the feeling. It’s been so long since he’s touched you and it’s like a reprieve. It’s heaven. It’s always heaven when it’s with him.

When he’s done, he holds you under the water with him and it’s the closest you’ve been since he’d been back. Chest to chest. Flesh to flesh.

When you feel his length harden between you, he clears his throat awkwardly, and steps away from you. He’s embarrassed.

“Bucky,” you croon sweetly, gingerly running your hand down his arm until you intertwine your fingers. He looks over to you, eyes drifting down to your chest, and he bites his lip. “Bucky, it’s alright. Let me help you feel good.”

He’s unsure, but he’s hard now and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your breasts.

“Let me do this for you, honey,” you ask again and his cock twitches. He bites down hard on his lip and his right hand carefully reach out to set on your hip, just feeling, exploring.

It takes a moment, but he nods, almost pleading. He steps aside so he’s facing the wall, making room for you under the water so you don’t catch a chill.

You watch his face the whole time, reminding him you’ll stop the second he asks you to as your hand trails along his thigh before you wrap your fingers around his cock. He hisses at the sensation, flinching at the touch because it’s been so long and you’re almost certain he hasn’t even touched himself since he’s been home.

He asks you to keep going and you do. It doesn’t take long until he’s wobbling on shaking legs, panting and thrusting into your fist. You sooth your free hand against his back, running in gentle strokes up and down his spine as you work him over. His fingers press so deep into your hip you’re sure it’ll leave marks, but you don’t mind at all.

He comes suddenly with a gasp, his release coating the wall and he follows your pumps with lazy thrusts as his cock twitches in your hand. It’s quicker than usual and you can see the pink burning in his ears, but you kiss at his shoulder, gently running your hand along his shaft until he’s given all he can.

He rests his forehead to the wall, catching his breath and you gingerly pull your hand away, rinsing it off in the water as his cum trails down to the drain.

Bucky doesn’t say anything after that but after you step out of the shower together and dry your bodies, he lets you hold him for the first time in months under the smooth surface of clean sheets. You kiss at his hairline and his cheek bones and he sighs contently, curling closer to you with every press of your lips.

He's still in your arms by morning.

***

“You should leave me,” he says a few weeks later and it tears your heart in two.

He’s lying on his side, metal arm tucked under the pillow as he faces you and there’s tears wet on his cheeks. It’s nearly three in the morning and he woke up screaming for the eighth night in a row. He’s noticed the dark circles under your eyes you’ve gained like permeant stains upon your skin. He sees the drain it takes from you to care for him and he hates himself for it.

But he’s selfish. He loves you too much to walk away. He’s withering you dry and he still wants more. He needs you to be the one to do it, to leave him, because he simply can’t.

“Please,” he cries, shivering and you tuck yourself tighter to his chest, unwilling to let go. “I can’t-- I can’t be the one to do it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, sternly, like it’s a fact and it is.

“I’m a mess, Y/n. I’m falling apart and I’m bringing you down with me.”

You don’t care, and you tell him so.

He's been getting better. He doesn’t notice his progress because it’s clouded in his nightmares and hyper vigilance and paranoia, but it’s there. You try to remind him, show him, as often as you can that any step forward counts as progress, no matter how small, no matter how many steps back. He’s still gaining.

You run your fingers gently along his jawline. The bruising once upon his face long healed and the scar his forehead only a faded memory. Even the jarring words across his chest are nearly gone thanks to Tony’s laser tech. It would need a few more treatments but they’d vanish completely.

He looks like your Bucky again.

“You’ve got me, baby. Nothing will ever take me from you, do you understand? I’m yours,” you say and he exhales a breath that releases the tension in his muscles. He pulls you against him, his hand running along your back.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair because he doesn’t know what else to say to express the gratitude, the love, the relief inside him, so he settles on the truth.

He will always find ways to convince himself he’s not worthy, that you’re better off without him, that his love for you will never be enough. It’s part of the trauma etched into his DNA, but he’s learning to push those thoughts aside.

It gets easier with your help and soon, when you tell him he’s safe, when you tell him you love him, when you tell him you’ll be by his side as long as he lets you, he starts to believe you.

***

The first time you make love again, Bucky thinks he might actually survive all that’s happened to him.

He’s learned to accept touch again, learned to give it and crave the feeling of you wrapped in his arms. It’s like heaven and it ignites in his chest, forcing more of the light to shove away the darkness still embedded inside him.

He wants this, and he tells you over and over again because you’re terrified to push him too far; and he wants to do this for you as much as himself. He wants to touch you in places that make your lips part in a breathless gasp, that get your eyes fluttering shut, that have your hands clenching in the sheets and in his hair. He wants to bring you something other than pain and heartache.

He wants to bring you pleasure.

Bucky's body remembers yours well, so he knows how to touch you to draw arousal between your legs. You squirm under him and he chuckles for the first time in a while. It’s a sound so sweet you have to stop the tears from welling in your eyes, though it’s long forgotten as he sinks two fingers inside you with ease.

You grip onto the flesh of his right shoulder, nails digging into his skin as he pumps his fingers, curling right at the spot that makes you whimper and latch onto him tighter. You try and utter his name but it falls on your tongue. You can’t think much of anything with his hands on you like that.

“That’s my girl,” he says, drawing shivers up your spine, “come apart for me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

He slides in a third finger and before you can adjust, he’s rubbing at your clit with the heal of his palm in rushed circles. You can hear the wetness around his fingers as he picks up in pace, and soon you’re clenching around him, gasping, panting, on the edge and it could be enough to send you over, but you want him.

“Need you,” you tell him, pushing his hand away and he looks up to you, confused. Pulling his face down to yours, you kiss his lips, something you’ll never take for granted again. You smile as he pulls away. “Please, baby. I need you. All of you.”

He’s hesitant at first, unsure, because he only cares about making you feel good right now after all he’s put you through, but when he follows your eyes down to his cock, he finds that it’s standing painfully hard against him and dripping in precum. He’s aching for you, desperate to be buried deep inside, and he’s not sure he can deny you.

Bucky doesn’t want to hold back anymore, he decides, as your fingers comb gently through his hair. He doesn’t want to hide from the woman he loves.

He lines himself with your entrance and you clench around nothing, just at the feeling of his tip brushing against your folds enough to draw such a sensation. He shudders above you and when his eyes meet yours again, they’re filled with a kind of love, a longing that you knew in him before he was taken from you.

He remembers fucking you, leaving marks and driving you into the mattress with quick and harsh thrusts but he doesn’t want to do that tonight. He wants to this to be slow. He wants to feel every moment, every clench, every gasp he can elicit from your lips. He wants to know all of it.

He wants to memorize you all over again.

When he sinks into you, the stretch is like the first time.

He doesn’t last nearly as long, but you don’t mind. It only takes a few minutes before you’re clenching around him, clinging onto his shoulders as you come. There’re tears in his eyes when he releases into you and he rolls his hips lazily to yours, stretching out the feeling as long as either of you can manage.

He falls down on your body and tucks his face to the crook of your neck. The shaking of his shoulders startles you at first and you pull his head back to find him crying, eyes red and lips trembling. Your heart lurches because you think you’ve pushed him to do something he wasn’t ready for, but instead, he smiles, leaning in to kiss you chastely.

“There was a time I never thought I’d see you again,” he sighs, pressing kisses to your cheekbones, to your nose, to your forehead, “but you’re here. I’m here. I didn’t think I’d ever come home to you and here you are. My girl.”

He wipes at the tears slipping past your eyes before you can realize you’re crying. He never once talked about his time held in Hydra’s captivity since he’s been home. He avoids it narrowly at every chance, pushes out a smile and finds a way to dodge the subject. He’s handling it, he tells you, and you only believe him half of the time, but something feels different tonight.

The way he’s looking at you, you can see the light behind the blue in his eyes. It’s like a faded navy hanging above a sunset, somewhere where the stars are collecting, peppering amongst the darkness, and shadows are casting the sun into the night. He’s beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, not sure what else to say.

“It’s not your fault, baby,” he says and there’s truth in his voice, sincerity. “I’m sorry I asked of you what I did. It wasn’t right, to put all that on you, and… hell… if you’d gone through with it like I asked, I would’ve deprived myself of this. Of being with you, here. Of surviving again.”

He kissed your forehead, pulling you impossibly close against him. He’s still inside you and though you can feel him soften, it’s the fullness of his body connected to yours that relieves you, that reminds you that he’s here with you.

“Don’t ask that of me again,” you beg, curling into him. “Don’t ask me to lose you like that. I won’t do it. I need you here with me, okay? I need you to be here.”

“I know, baby. Never again, I promise.”

You’re home in his arms and he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch. He’s content, safe, and he nestles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the smell of you he’d lost when he was gone all those weeks. He’s memorizing you again, learning to recommit every piece of you to memory. It was all that kept him alive when he was gone.

It’s something he never had when he was captured in the war and after the fall. He never had something to hold on for, to cling to, to keep his mind focused on anything outside of the unrelenting torture.

So, he savors the feel of your body wrapped around his, the smell of your hair, the soft touches of your fingers as you run them in gentle patterns along his back, the hum of your voice; it’s all his saving grace, every piece of you.

He knows he’s a mess. He fully realizes how broken he is and he’s crumbling at the seams, especially after these last few months, but you never once turn him away, never even consider that he is as irredeemable as he thinks he is.

It’s the reason he thinks he might just be alright.

One day.

Maybe not today, because there’s still pieces of darkness clouding around him, but he’s able to see through the fog of it again. It’s something, and your sweet voice echoes in his ear, reminding him it’s the process that counts, no matter how small the steps.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #marvel

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

A Midgardian Christmas | Loki x Reader | Christmas Eve and Christmas Day

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Christmas time is here and you are so excited! Loki does not share your enthusiasm. With the help of Peter Parker, the two of you decided to help Loki feel the true joy of Christmas. And perhaps a bit of romance as well.

Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve

You couldn’t believe that Christmas Eve was finally here. The holiday season had flown by and you couldn’t even remember where the time had gone. After much consideration, you had finally settled on a gift for Loki. Peter and you had gone ice skating down in Central Park. You had fallen more than skating which had bruised more than just your ego. But it had been great fun just the same.

Tony decided to have a Christmas party in the Tower on Christmas Eve. Pepper had gone all out with the decorations and the rooms looked like a winter Christmas wonderland. Dress code was formal and you had enlisted Natasha to help you pick out the perfect dress for the occasion.

You spent the first part of the evening glancing around the room looking for the God of Mischief. He was nowhere to be found. You even had inquired with Thor as to his whereabouts.

“Not to worry. I am sure my brother will be here at any moment. As you know, he likes to make an entrance.”

Thor patted you on your shoulder. Though you had never admitted to him, he knew exactly how you felt about his brother. The attention you had paid to him this holiday season had made it abundantly clear you were smitten.

As if on cue, you heard the elevator ding and the doors open and Loki emerged. He was dashing as always.

While most men had opted for a classic tuxedo, Loki upped the ante. His tux was impeccably cut, showing up his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His lapels were black velvet and his cuff links were emerald. His shoes shone like a mirror.

You could feel him make eye contact with you as you looked at the floor in embarrassment and rushed off to the bar. Loki seemed startled your abrupt exit so he followed you.

“Is everything alright?” he inquired.

You swallowed your drink in one gulp, burning down your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you choked out, trying to sound normal, “why do you ask?”

You looked up at the Asgardian with eyes pleading to drop the issue. Loki seemed to pick up the hint.

“Well I was just thinking a lovely dress like yours shouldn’t be hidden away.”

“Well you are not looking so bad yourself.”

“Shall we?”

Loki offered his arm. With slight trepidation you took it and he led you to the makeshift dance floor. Tony had opted for a like a swing band. you secretly think it was a ploy to get Steve to dance. But regardless, it added a sense of elegance and glamour to the party.

Loki spun you once, with your mermaid skirt twirling around your legs and then pulled you in close. His hand felt cool on your bare back and you shivered slightly.

“Chilled?”

“No, I’m fine.”

You settled in a bit closer and placed your head on his chest. He adjusted his hands to account for your position and you both began to sway to the slow melody.

You could definitely get used to this.

You closed your eyes and secretly wished for the moment to never end.

Loki took several deep breaths and tried with all his will to slow his heartbeat.

She can’t know how much I am enjoying this.

Your body felt warm and welcoming against his. With your head on his chest, he could smell the hint of your shampoo and perfume. He wanted to continue to breathe in the heady scent but was afraid of drawing attention to himself.

The two of you continued to sway to the music. You were completely oblivious to anything else other than your dance partner. Had you scanned around the room, you would have seen Tony and Thor elbowing each other and gesturing at the two of you. Clearly Loki and you were not as discrete with your feelings as you thought you were.

The song came to an end and you push back slightly so you could look Loki in the eyes. The green eyes seemed to be twinkling. You smiled.

“Thanks for the dance.”

“My pleasure,” he responded.

He continued to stare in your eyes. The intensity was overwhelming and you broke eye contact to stare at the floor, which suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room. You fiddled with your fingers and you felt long fingers slide under your chin. Loki swiftly pulled your chin up and tilted it towards his face. You closed your eyes and raised up on your toes to reach the tall God’s face. You were preparing yourself for the kiss you had been waiting for since you had laid eyes on the god.

“Hey, Mr. Loki, mind if I have this next dance?” Peter interjected, once again ruining a moment.

“Sure, Master Parker.”

Loki spun you out and extended his arm, before presenting you to Peter.

“Oh Master Parker,” Loki spun on his heel to address the young man, “I hope you enjoy you Christmas presents.”

“Thanks Mr. Loki!”

Loki walked again and grinned to himself.

Peter clumsily wrapped his arm around your waist and you grabbed his other hand to place it on your shoulder. This song was more upbeat than the last, thankfully.

After a few awkward moments and at least once stepped-on toe, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey Underoos, why not let a man show you how it done?”

You had never been so grateful for Tony Stark than in that moment.

Tony expertly weaved you around the floor.

“Thanks, Tony. Or my precisely, my feet thank you.”

Tony smiled.

“Anytime. Sorry I didn’t get to the kid sooner. Looks like you and Reindeer Games were getting along quite well.”

You could feel the blood rushing to your face.

“You saw that!?”

“I think everyone in New York saw that. Except for maybe the two of you.”

“Thanks for pointing that out. I am not sure he is that interested in me.”

Tony pushed you back from him and wore a look of shock.” “Are you serious? I have never seen a man or god more smitten. You know he asked everyone in the Tower what to get you for Christmas. Even Clint and Natasha.”

It was your turn to shock.

“Clint? I had no idea.”

“Oh you believe it or I can show you the security footage of him trying to work up the courage to knock on the door for 30 minutes.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Actually, strike that. I use it for the year in review meeting in January.”

With that thought, Tony turned to make some calls. You scanned the room for Loki but you could not spot his raven hair anywhere. You went to the bar but he was not there either.

Dejected, you went to go back to the party and sulk when one more place came to your mind. You headed straight to the elevator. It seemed to take ages for the doors to ding. You stepped in and punched in the number.

After much time, the doors opened up to the residence floor. The entire floor was dark except for the lighting Peter and you had painstakingly hung earlier. You could see a tall brooding figure standing by the tree, holding a small package.

“Loki?” you questioned.

He turned to face you and then swiftly crossed the room to meet you.

“I would have thought you would have continued to enjoy the party.”

You could see his shoulders slump in disappointment.

You started to twirl an errant piece of hair.

“Well…it just wasn’t the same without you. I mean your brother offered to keep me company…”

Loki’s eyes flashed in jealousy.

��That oaf would not know how to show a lady a good time if it bit him on the nose.”

You chuckled feeling at bit emboldened. You reached over and grabbed his lapels to pull him towards you facing each other.

“Besides, I believe you and I have unfinished business.”

You smirked at Loki as his face wore an expression of confusion.

“I am not entirely sure what you mean.”

“Well first of all, we are standing under the mistletoe.”

You gestured up towards the arch. Loki looked up and then looked back you. With a glint of recognition, he smiled and stepped even closer, subtracting whatever distance was left between the two of you.

You placed both hands around the back of his neck and pulled up onto your toes. Loki leaned down and finally pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was warm and electrifying all at once. You pull Loki deeper into the kiss and sigh softly. Loki took that opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. His kiss was eager and hungry. The two of you finally parted, both of you breathing heavy.

“Yes, that unfinished business,” Loki said, breaking the silence, “And for once with no interruptions from pesky teenagers.”

You laughed out loud.

“Yeah, Peter did have the worst timing ever.”

You noticed he was still gripping a small present. The bow now flattened and paper wrinkled. You gestured towards that.

“What’s that?”

Loki suddenly blushed.

“Well, it is your Christmas present, darling.”

You smile at the term of endearment.

“Can I open it now or do I have wait until tomorrow?”

You secretly hoped he wouldn’t make you wait. Then you would have the perfect excuse to give him his present early.

“If you want, you may open it now.”

He awkwardly handed you the small box.

You tore off the paper and bow and lifted the lid of the small white box. Inside was a small blue velvet box. It was jewelry box. You swallowed hard as you lifted the lid. Inside was a delicate silver necklace, hanging from it was an ice blue gemstone cut into the shape of heart. Your eyes started well up with tears.

Loki cleared his throat.

“Most of the team suggested jewelry. Particularly Stark. It was Mr. Barton who suggested a symbol of significance.”

“And what is the significance of the heart?”

You weren’t letting him off easy.

“Well,..ehehehe…simply put that my cold Frost Giant heart is yours.”

You blinked and felt tears trail down your cheeks. You felt Loki’s fingers wipe away the streams of tears.

“I am sorry I have upset you. I should go.”

You grabbed Loki’s arm as he turned to leave and pulled him into a short but tender kiss.

“Do I look upset?” you questioned as you parted from him.

“Well the kiss says no, but your tears indicate sadness.” “You ridiculous god. They are tears of happiness.”

You went to the tree and rummaged around until you found a small bag.

“Here you idiot. Open your present.”

Loki seemed shocked as you thrust the bag into his hands. The Asgardian pulled the tissue paper and turned the bag upside down; a small box landed in his outstretched hand.

He shook the box and heard a dull rattle. You rolled your eyes at the show.

“Just open it.”

Loki lifted the lid and saw an ordinary key with a ribbon tied around a key chain.

“What is this?”

“A key to my room,” you stated.

“Why?”

Loki clearly was not catching the hint.

“So you can come and go as you please without drawing too much attention. Plus, you know that thing about symbols. Well this is a symbol of you holding the key to my heart.”

You stared back at Loki as he looked between the key and you. Then a devilish grin came across his pale face. He grabbed your wrist and started dragging you away.

“Where are we going?”

Loki looked back and grinned.

“I figured I would put my present to immediate use.”

You started laughing as Loki led you down the hallway to your door. He put his key in the door and unlocked it. He pushed the door open and then heaved you over his shoulder to carry you into the room before shutting your front door with his foot.

Christmas Day

The next morning, you were awaken at an ungodly hour by an insistent knock on your door. You shuffled your way out from under Loki’s arm and trudged yourself to the door. It was Peter.

“It’s Christmas! I am waking everyone up for presents and hot chocolate. Have you seen Mr. Loki? He didn’t answer his door. Not even his usual grunt.”

You shuffled your feet to close the gap between the door and the wall just in case a certain god decided to walk out of the bedroom.

“You know what, Peter. I will go and try. Maybe he didn’t hear you.”

Peter smiled and gave a quick thanks and he took off down the hallway towards his next victim.

You quickly shut the door and went to roust Loki. You dug through your drawers and found some baggy pajama pants Loki could fit in. You went over to his edge of the bed and began to shake Loki.

“Loki, you need to wake up and get dressed.”

With quick reflexes, Loki grabbed you by wrist and pulled you into a deep kiss, exploring your mouth with his tongue. You moaned as he attempted to pull you on top of him.

“I think…” he growled as he toyed with the straps of your top, “you need to come back to bed.”

You resisted but not too hard.

“I can but we will miss Peter and everyone else opening their presents,” you purred back, nibbling on his neck, “not to mention the rumors that would certainly circulate due to our absence.”

At the mention of Peter and presents, Loki sat up in bed.

“Mr. Parker is going to be opening present. Oh, darling we can’t miss that.”

And with that he was already pulling on the pants and attempting to tame his hair.

“I didn’t realize you were particularly interested in that.”

Loki shot you a devilish grin.

“Oh I am very interested in Mr. Parker’s present.”

“Loki what did you do?”

But Loki was more interested in getting you out the door than answering your questions. By the time the two of you got to the main area, everyone else had gathered around the tree. Everyone except Peter wore expressions of varying degrees of sleep and annoyance. Peter had apparently ruined everyone’s morning.

Tony and Peter took turns passing out the presents. Everyone’s presents seem pretty standard. Except Peter’s.

“Wow, thanks…Mr. Stark. I always wanted a giant pink fully unicorn and rainbow glitter pens.”

Peter was clearly disappointed but Tony was proud.

“I just used your list. I thought some of things were a bit unusual but I never quite understand what you kids are into these days.”

You realized Loki must have switched the lists. A glance over to the beaming god confirmed your suspicions. While you felt bad for Peter, you weren’t going to rat out Loki. You would get something nice for Peter in after Christmas sales as an apology, so to speak.

As you turned to grab a cup of hot chocolate, you felt a heavy arm slam down on your shoulder.

“Where did the two of you go last night?” Thor inquired, his arm tightly wrapped around you and Loki.

“Umm….” you started to explain until Loki interrupted.

“We decided to exchange presents earlier,” Loki offered.

Thor then noticed the necklace around your neck. He clapped Loki hard on the shoulder.

“Excellent work, brother! A lovely token of sentiment. And what did you get my mischievous brother?”

You looked over to Loki to see eyes pleading to not tell the truth. You were interrupted by Steve.

“Hey, why is Loki wearing your pajama pants?”

You were certain the two of you had been caught when Loki saved you.

“These are my Christmas present. She had seen me admiring them and bought me my own pair.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as the two men walked away, seemingly believing the story.

“You owe me a pair of pants,” you whispered.

“Oh, I can think of something much more inappropriate for you to wear to bed,” Loki growled into your ear.

You smiled and thought about all the nights and days ahead. Merry Christmas indeed.

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki series #midgardian christmas

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

Warning(s): Are they back to bickering again? Like an old married couple ? Bucky Barnes gets a surprise.

Please read the other parts of this book using links from the Masterlist.

Three more months later,

(Six months ever since you left the Avengers Facility)

Bucky lowered his cap, and so did Natasha, Steve, Clint and Sam as they pushed their way through a swarm of drunk college kids that were dancing to a loud, buzzing electronic music.

"All these years, and I still don't get how this is even good. Buck and I can tell you how a good clubbing was done, back in the 1940s– " Steve was screaming on the top of his lungs.

"God, this is giving me a goddamn headache, why are we here again?" Bucky raised a brow, and fixed a cold, impassive glare on Sam.

"I was born on this day. I have the right to call the shots." Sam pointed out, and Natasha just grinned, her body almost swaying to the beats that were playing.

"God, at least they have drinks. Come on punk. I think the only place the two of us can be is the bar." Bucky nudged Steve and Sam just rolled his eyes while he and Natasha started dancing, Natasha rolling her hips in a seductive way while Sam was just sort of moving his hands.

Bucky, Clint and Steve walked up to the bar and they fixed themselves in a corner, their eyes scanning around as Clint smirked, "Come on, loosen up, grandpa's. What are we drinking?"

"I'm not drinking– "

"We'll have the four roses bourbon– "

Both Bucky and Steve spoke at the exact same time, and Bucky narrowed his eyes as he looked at his best friend, "Really? You people drag me out here and we're not even drinking ?"

"Buck, what's the whole point of drinking when we can't even get drunk?" Steve just shrugged, while Bucky just shook his head.

"It's better than nothing."

"Well I can't win from you. Let's do it. Although I'm not sure I even heard about that before," Steve chuckled and pulled a barstool, so he could fix himself on it as Clint spoke to the bartender.

The bartender placed the drinks on the counter, and Bucky curled his flesh fingers around his drink, lifting it up and placing it to his lips, his eyes watching Natasha and Sam, as they made their way towards them.

"Not fair? You started without us, Cap." Natasha smirked at Steve, and leant against the counter so she can throw in her words to the bartender, telling him what she wanted to drink. Sam just made his way closer to the men, standing next to Clint and slowly turning towards three girls that were standing by the dance floor, their drinks in their hands, but their eyes were on them.

"Well check that out. I call dibs on the one in green. Damn." Sam smirked, and Steve just shook his head in disapproval, and brought his drink up to his lips, while Clint smirked and rubbed his palms together, "Nah, I'm good mate. You can have her. I have a good one back home."

"Hey, she is looking at you man." Sam nudged Bucky's knee using his elbow and he just rolled his eyes in the most casual manner and turned his head to listen to what Sam had to say, when his eyes fell on one of the girls, who was biting her lip, staring at him. Disinterested, he just turned away; back into his drink, staring at the glass when Natasha just blurted out, regretting her words immediately, "lover boy's just waiting for Y/N to come back, bring him the hottest woman on earth now, he would still want her back."

Bucky's grip tightened on the glass, and instinctively, Steve grabbed his flesh arm, to hold him back before he could lose his control and do something he would later regret.

"Barnes, I didn't mean it," Natasha immediately added.

"You women often say things that you never mean, which is why I don't bloody understand the things that goes on in those minds of yours," Bucky brought up his index finger, placing it on Natasha's temple, tapping it twice.

The lot fell silent then, each of them now lost in their own trivial thoughts. Bucky replayed the conversation he had with you in your apartment, and how you had said that you didn't mean it. He just scoffed, and shook his head, a little too obviously and Steve started looking at him, noticing his friend's sudden weirdness before his phone beeped in his pocket and he pulled it out. "Great, Tony wants us back at the towers. Someone hacked into two of the HYDRA bases systems in Kazakhstan and Hungary. It was live for two minutes before they took it off, but Tony managed to get his hands on a few cryptic codes and coordinates." Steve stood up, his broad, bulky frame almost blocking out the lighting behind him, as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

"Well, it couldn't have been the government, or CIA. Does Tony know the potential hacker?" Clint raised an eyebrow, and Natasha crossed her arms over her chest.

"Couldn't be traced. But again, if we can figure out those cryptic codes and coordinates, we will have a lead." Steve called out before turning around to leave.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

"Romanoff, you get anything?" Tony called out, while Natasha just grunted in annoyance, not even bothering to crane her neck to look back from one of the computer screens, as her fingers skillfully glided across the keypad, typing here and there. Bucky leant by the wall, eyeing Steve's computer screen, watching him intently as he was struggling to turn the cryptic symbols into something meaningful.

"Bingo, I think I have it," Natasha yelled, and immediately, the four of them flocked around her screen, staring down at the brightly lit screen.

"Eighth Avenue, Tech Laboratories?" Bucky mumbled, his eyes squinted slightly as he leaned over Natasha's back, typing something onto the computer so that the maps came up.

"But those labs have been shut down ages back, illegal animal testing and shit." Tony replied, in a casual tone and Steve just bit his lip.

"That's the whole point, Tony. Whoever this is, whatever is going on, it's illegal, which is why there's this shade."

"Guys I hate to break it to you, the more we stay here talking, we might end up missing whatever is going on out there," Natasha deadpanned giving them a serious look, and Steve nodded.

It didn't take them very long to reach the old, abandoned laboratories that looked stale and dinghy in comparison to the other buildings surrounding it. It was weird and confusing why this building hadn't been taken down yet. Another thing to notice was, that the building, although miniscule, the empty land that was in the boundary of this building was massive, and yet secluded.

Bucky and Steve stepped off their bikes, while Natasha got off hers, with Sam riding pillion behind her. Their hands flew to their gun holsters and immediately, they drew out their guns. Their eyes fell on a black sedan that was parked a few meters away; and they knew that whoever this was, was probably still inside. Steve's index finger flew to his lips, as the four of them, with quiet steps starting making their way into the building, their eyes scanning the vicinity for anything that was off.

"Do we split up or – " Sam begin but Bucky have him a glare, and he pressed his lips shut, " my bad."

The four of them walked in deeper, noticing an intense change in the heat level inside as compared to the outside. The inside of the laboratories were freezing, and it felt like they were inside a freezer. Climbing a flight of stairs, making sure they didn't press much weight to the stairs, not wanting the stairs to announce their arrival, they stepped onto the first floor, and reflexively, they stopped, when they heard a familiar voice.

"Well, does everything look okay to you?"

Natasha's head snapped towards Steve in recognition, and his eyes widened, his own head snapping towards Bucky.

"Hey, why the fuck does the voice sound like Fury?" Sam whispered in Bucky 's ear.

"Because it's Fury, Sam."

Before Sam could speak, another voice reached their ears, and this voice was foreign, and unknown.

"Mr. Fury, this is something unlike I've ever seen. Those cells are multiplying at a rate faster than a normal human growth rate. These bruises, these bruises you see aren't something very common for a six month old fetus, yes they kick and all, but this is– "

"Holy shit, Fury probably knocked up a girl. Boy I think we are just at the wrong place at the wrong– " Sam began whispering again, much to the annoyance of the others. They all turned towards him at the exact same time, ready to shut him up when a soft, feminine voice started speaking; a voice all of them were aware of.

"Did Erskine's serum cause any damage to my baby?"

James Buchanan Barnes turned white like a chalk. His eyes and his mouth were frozen wide open, in an expression of shock, and although he was staring straight at Steve; he appeared not to notice him at all, and all he could think of was what he had just heard. Steve took his best friend's side, placing his palm softly on his bicep, slightly shaking him out of his daze. Whoever that third person was, had probably left by now, and from what they could hear; it was just Fury and Y/N inside.

"I know you want to go and pull those motherfuckers out of their shitholes, Y/N, I really know you do, but right now, they are going to come after you and try to get their hands on that kid."

"And you think I'd let them ? I'd break every single bone in their bodies. Those pesky rodents, they deserve to be wiped off, you know it," You hissed, through pursed lips, unaware that a set of four eyes were now watching you and Fury from the corner. You were sitting on what looked like a gurney, your feet dangling off the edge. A loose fitting shrug was covering your shoulders, your palms cradling your pretty evident baby bump.

"I'm tired of dealing with your stubborn ass. This is the time to stay hidden."

"I am not going to do anything stupid Fury, not until this little guy's here," You hopped off the gurney, and ran your fingers through your hair, using your shrug to try and hide the bulge of your belly, before you looked towards the back entrance.

"Call me later, I'm gonna use that back door and get the hell out of here."

"Whatever, snarky," Fury smirked.

"Don't get started," you warned, making your way out through the back, your gun resting securely in the waist of your stretchable pants.

Nick Fury waited a few seconds until he had made sure that you had gotten out safely from the back. He then turned around, and casually started walking out; only to come face to face with four semi to super pissed Avengers.

"Fury," Steve was the first one to break the silence; and sensing that the four had probably heard it all, Fury lost the defensiveness in his stance and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I didn't tell any of you because she didn't want me to," he was eyeing Bucky now, who had a tight squared jaw.

"How long have you known?" He raised an eyebrow, stepping in front of Steve.

"She came to me three months back, didn't know where else to go." He stopped speaking for a split second and then, in a low voice, almost grumbled under his breath, "I told her it is always a bad idea to hook up with a colleague; look where it landed her. First, it got her married to a fucking HYDRA dick, and second, it got her pregnant with a super soldier's spawn. When does she ever listen? And you, don't even get me started. You were the bastard that knocked her up."

"Come on, Fury. That's just harsh," Natasha chimed in.

"Guys, can I talk?"

Steve, Fury, Bucky and Natasha turned towards Sam and they gave him a quizzical expression, while Bucky just glared at him.

"The thing is, those coordinates, that hacked details, what the hell was that?"

Fury's eyes widened and he clenched his fists tighter against his side, stepping closer towards Sam, "What coordinates? What hacking?"

"It looked like someone hacked into the HYDRA system, we found these coordinates, and that's why we found out the secrets that you were hiding Fury," Natasha defended Sam immediately, as she winked playfully at Bucky. This is when Fury suddenly turned, pulling out his gun, and began sprinting towards the back entrance; as quickly as his legs could carry him, bolting down the lab.

"Where the hell are you going?" Bucky followed his pace with his own grueling pace, managing to reach him in a split second, and so did the other three.

"Those hackers weren't hacking from HYDRA. It was most probably HYDRA getting into our systems, the non official ones, to find her. They've landed on a jackpot, a freaking Winter Soldier baby. And if what you're saying is true, they're here already, and Y/N is probably in trouble."

Meanwhile, this wasn't supposed to happen, not again.

No one knew of this place, then who were these men?

You slowly slid your palm into your shrug, pulling out your loaded gun. You were pregnant, but you definitely weren't a damsel in distress, and if need arose, you were going to fight the HYDRA scum. Your mind was already working on the calculations; there were four of them, and maybe, there were more. They had a plus one on you, but yet, you had an edge. They couldn't hurt you, if what they really wanted was your child.

"Никто не должен умирать. Пожалуйста, пойдем с нами, и мы не причиним тебе вреда." One of them stepped towards you, and instinctively you stepped one step back, raising your gun in the air, until you were in a face off.

"Sorry, gentlemen, I don't do Russian, my mum did nag me to learn it, but unfortunately, I never did. Can we switch to good ol' English now?" You hissed, venom in your voice.

"Miss Y/N. Let's not do that, shall we? One squeeze of a trigger from either you or my men, it's going to be a disaster," the man spoke in thick Russian accent, and you rolled your eyes, trying to look through this man's mask. This was where you made a mistake. They had orders not to kill you, but not to not hurt you. You dropped your guard for one second when this man spoke, but just when this happened, the bullet from another man's gun hit you right on your palm and your gun dropped; clattering to the ground with a loud noise, leaving your palm in a stinging, burning pain, blood spurting out of the hole the bullet had made right in the center.

In that frozen second between the stand off you saw the man's eyes flick from you to your belly and a faint nod passed between him and his men, a sort of a signal. Your faces are unreadable, no fear, no invitational smirk, just plain hatred in your eyes, and passiveness in his. One of them suddenly lunged forward, when your reflexes kicked in, and you immediately ducked, this proving to be much more difficult now. You threw out your leg, kicking the man hard in his shins until he hit the floor hard with the blow, when another one lunged at you, trying to grab you.

Punches, kicks, hard blows.

You had lost to them once, and had been unable to protect your son, but this time, you were not planning on letting history repeat. You were going to fight, for your life, and you were going to protect this child, no matter what it took.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

The four men and one woman soared through the hallway at the back, their guns blazing as they ran towards the back entrance from where you had just left, minutes back. Gunshots rang out from all around them now, which meant that Fury was right; HYDRA was here and you were in danger. Bucky could feel his heart beat in his chest, pounding, banging, trying to get out. He kept running forward and ahead of the others, feeling as though his blood were on fire. His limbs were moving on their own. He was disconnected from everything but the ever present sound of his drumming heart as he kicked the back door with his foot, watching it fly off its hinges and land a distance away with a crash.

The first thing their eyes fell on were the black uniformed corpses that were spread out evenly on the floor; two with a bullet mark, and two who had a gruesome bite on the side of the neck and the other one probably having had snapped his neck. But within seconds, Natasha's eyes had spotted you in a corner, sitting against the floor, your head resting against the wall at the back, your bleeding hand pressed against your chest.

Your eyes were open, your mind was awake and alert, but the adrenaline of it all was too much. You felt liberated, and free, that finally, you had managed to something you had failed in. You had, for now, saved yourself. And it was all on you.

The rest of the Avengers crowded around you, Natasha kneeling next to you as she shook you gently, her voice soft against your ears, "Are you okay? You took them out yourself?"

"Yea, I'm peachy."

Your smirk reached your eye, and everyone, including Bucky, gave you a smile back; they were all relieved. You placed your palms on the floor, in an attempt to pull yourself back up when Bucky suddenly stepped forward, leaning over you.

Your eyes met his, the second his eyes were face level with yours. The blue in his eyes looked bluer than the ocean. Six months, and you had forgotten how beautiful this man was, how beautiful, yet how broken. You placed your arm around his neck, a mutual understanding passing between the two of you, and the minute he sensed that you were securely latched to his shoulder, his metal arm held you from your waist, pulling you up to your feet until you were back up.

"Buck, we should all get back. Before they come back in more force," Steve commented, breaking the moment between the two of you.

"Well, this was nice," you drawled, absentmindedly, your hand flying up to your frenzied hair as you started curling your index finger against one of the strands. "I should leave."

"The only place you're going now is the Avengers Towers," Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at you.

"Did I ask you? You don't have a say in this."

"Jesus, not the two of you again." Natasha sighed, in a frustrated way, running her hands through her hair as she walked off.

"Well, that's my kid in there. I won't take a no. Now, you can voluntarily choose to come with me, back where you should be or–" He took a step closer to you, his face bent slightly so he was glaring into your eyes, not with anger, but with a look of determination.

"Or, what?"

"I'll lift you up and carry you there myself."

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@baumarvel

@janajjj

@chipilerendi

@nyotamalfoy

@skittychat

@allidoiswritewritewrite

Want to be added to my taglist? Please fill up a form on this link. 💗

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

The deal

Summary: Your brother can’t pay Bucky his money back, so he offers you to pay his debts.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader, Brock Rumlow, Mobster!Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, language, human trafficking, talk about prostitution, talk about blowjobs, angry Bucky, scared/innocent reader, virgin reader, awful stepbrother, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), possessive Bucky

“Where is my money?” Hands folded, elbows pressing hard into the wood of his expensive desk Bucky’s features darken.

Rumlow starts to sweat, knowing no one messes with James Buchanan Barnes without ending up six feet under.

“I…I don’t have it but I got something better, Mr. Barnes, Sir.” Brock’s eyes dart from Steve, Bucky’s right hand and best friend since childhood, to the man he owes 200,000 bucks. “I got a nice girl for you.”

“Girl?” Cocking a brow, an amused smirk on his lips Bucky leans back in his chair, nodding at Steve who rams his fist into Brock’s face. “I got enough whores working for me. I can let me blow off 24/7 if I have the need.

“I…she’s special, I swear.” Gasping Brock flinches as Steve wants to hit him again. “My sister…”

Now Steve stops in his tracks and his features darken. “How can you offer your sister, you piece of shit!” Snarling the words Sam wants to step in but Brock got Bucky’s attention.

“Is she good? I need a girl for my club, a nice girl giving blow-jobs and more.” Bucky smirks, knowing Brock will never agree to offer you for such a job.

“She will do anything to pay my debts, Mr. Barnes, Sir.” Brock’s words make Sam’s and Steve’s stomach churn but what surprises them is Bucky nods, agreeing to the deal.

“I’ll take her for a few weeks and test her. Let’s say four weeks, that’s what I give you to pay me half of my money back. After four more weeks, I want the other half.” Getting up Bucky smirks. “I lent you the money without interest if she makes my customers happy.”

“Buck, you can’t..” Steve tries but his friend waves his hand and Sam and Steve let go of Brock, disgusted by your brother and Bucky.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with this kind of shit, Buck. Human trafficking…disgusting.” Steve storms out of the room, slamming the door hard enough to let the doorframe vibrate.

“I didn’t know we are that rotten now. Do you have any idea what you do to your sister?” Spitting into Brocks’s face Sam glares at Bucky. “You’re disgusting…both…”

Not knowing why your brother leads you into an expensive Mansion, your duffle bags in his hands you start shaking as you recognize Bucky Barnes leansagainst the doorframe of what you assume is his office.

“Here she is, Sir. I hope you will be satisfied with her skills.” Brock, your brother smirks, kissing your cheek before he drops your bags and leaves the house.

“I…” Flinching you reluctantly let Bucky drag you into his office. He slams the door shut, locking it.

While you stand in the room, not knowing what to think or say you must watch him look you all over. His eyes land on your cleavage and you wrap your arms around your chest, but his eyes wander to your legs and a low growl leaves his lips.

“Come here, open my pants and show me if your mouth is as good as your brother told me.” Bucky orders and now the tears fall as you look at him, not knowing why you shall open his pants.

“What? I don’t know…” Stammering you take a step backward as Bucky searches your face.

“I don’t have all day, go to your knees, open my pants and suck my dick. I want to know if you can satisfy my customers.”

“I…no! I am not here to apply to a job, Sir. I would never work as a prostitute.” Whimpering you feel one rough hand grab your upper arm. His face only inches from yours the mobster boss, the kingpin of Brooklyn brushes his nose over yours.

“How many men did you blow off in your life?” Bucky husks and you shiver as one hand wraps around your throat. “Answer me, doll.”

“None, Sir…” Embarrassed, face flushed you look anywhere but at the man holding your life in his hand. “I never…”

“Don’t tell me you never had a cock down your throat, Sweetheart.” The way you start to shake, your wide eyes and the tears running down your face tell Bucky he made a bad deal. “Brock lied…”

“Brock? I don’t understand why my stepbrother brought me here. I came to visit him and then he brings me to this huge house, and I swear I never did anything you said. Please…” Sniffling you weakly try to remove the hand holding your throat.

“Shit.” Dropping the hand holding your throat Bucky angrily clenches his fists. “Did you fuck anyone? Had a cock in your ass or pussy?”

“I…” Sobbing you step backward, try anything to get away from the angry mobster who watches your reaction with darkened eyes. “Please let me go. I don’t want to…”

“Doll, your brother made a deal, okay. For at least two months you are mine and will do what I say. I mean…” Stepping closer Bucky sighs as you flinch away. “If he pays me back my money. If not…I can keep you…”

“Please…I don’t want to do this. I can’t sleep with a man for money.” Falling to your knees you hug your shaking form, crying uncontrollably. “Please…”

“SAM, STEVE!” Yelling loud enough to be heard in half of the mansion Bucky moves his hand through his hair.

“Boss?” Glancing at you on the floor, still crying Steve swallows hard. “What’s wrong?”

“Rumlow lied, brought me a useless virgin, Stevie, that’s what happened.” James’s eyes never leave your scared form as Sam steps closer, and you flinch away, crying even harder. “For fuck’s sake, don’t touch her Sam.”

“Boss, what shall we do now?” Sam’s eyes dart between you and his boss and he has the urge to tell Bucky to just let you go.

“Tell Wanda to get some food. Bring the bags Rumlow dropped to my private rooms and no word about the girl to anyone. For everyone in this house, in my organization, she’s my new toy. Now out…” Bucky’s words make you shake even more.

“Buck’, she’s an innocent victim, don’t be like your father or mine. Just let her go.” Steve tries to reason with his friend, but James made a decision.

“She’s mine, now leave. I’ll make Rumlow pay for his lies…”

“That’s wrong on so many levels Steve. That girl, I bet she’s innocent in any way possible. We have to stop Bucky.” Sam spats as he grabs your bags. “I can’t let him abuse her! I didn’t agree to be that kind of bastard!”

“I know, Sam but…” Sighing Steve closes his eyes, remembering your scared eyes and the way you flinched away. “Fine. I’ll think about it and talk to Bucky later.”

“I’m just saying.” Pointing toward Bucky’s office Sam scrunches up his nose. “That’s not my boss or friend in there any longer if he dares to lay a finger on that girl against her will, I am gone for good.”

“Gosh, doll.” Kneeling next to you Bucky pokes your side and you shake even more. “Stop crying. I won’t fuck your ass right here in my office. Get up, blow your nose and be silent for a moment. You are giving me a headache.”

Watching you get up on shaking legs Bucky’s eyes sadden as he can see unadulterated fear in your eyes. He knows you believe he will force himself on you anytime.

“Why did he do this??” Your voice is thin and he can see the tremble in your hands, still, you are brave enough to ask the notorious mobster a question.

“Your brother, or rather stepbrother owes me 200,000 bucks, doll. He was due yesterday and offered me something better…you.” Sniffling you look at your hands while fresh tears run down your cheeks.

“So I don’t have a choice…” Shuddering under Bucky’s gaze you try to put on a brave face. “How many men do I have to serve until you will let me go?” James can see the desperation in your eyes and for the first time, he feels his cold heart warm up a bit.

“Let me just…” While Bucky tries to find the right words Wanda walks into his office without knocking. She has a warm blanket, a sandwich, and tissues in her hands.

“James Buchanan Barnes! Since when do we get involved with Rumlow and human trafficking!” She yells at her stepbrother, the man rasing her, before her hand collides with his cheek. “If you dare to lay a finger on that girl without her consent you will pray I’ll end you fast. Now get out of here and bring us warm tea.”

“Wand…I just …”

“I don’t want to hear it, brother! Would you offer me to your customers too?” Furiously shaking his head Bucky gasps as Wanda wraps the blanket around your trembling body. “Good. Now move and bring me the tea for the poor girl. Did you at least ask for her name?”

“No…”

“Perfect gentleman as always.” Nagging Wanda sits next to you, handing you the sandwich before she gently dries your tears with a tissue. “Don’t worry, I will not allow him to hurt you. Steve asked me for help.”

“Y/N…” Sniffling you take a bite of the sandwich.

“That’s a nice name, Y/N. We girls need to stick together against macho assholes like my brother and yours. I swear I will castrate him if he dares to hurt you, Sweetie.” Stroking your cheek Wanda smiles as you do not flinch away.

“Wanda…” Snarling her name Bucky glares at his sister. “She’s mine…”

“Oh!” Smirking Wanda gets up to pat her brother’s chest. “She didn’t flinch when I touched her, nor does she have your name tagged to her ass. If you want her…” Pecking her brother’s cheek Wanda chuckles. “Earn it, Buck.”

The moment Wanda leaves the room Bucky sits next to you, placing the cup of tea in front of you onto the table. He can see the fear return and takes the opportunity to stroke a strand of your hair out of your face.

“I will not let you work for me, doll. I think you are precious and cute. Hmmm…”

His voice goes lower as his lips press against the bruise he left at your neck. “I’ll be selfish and keep you in my house. It’s rare Steve, Sam and Wanda want to kill me.”

You would laugh at his words if you wouldn’t be too terrified to do so. He’s nibbling at your skin, calling you his doll. “I won’t touch you unless you tell me so, Y/N. Now eat the sandwich, drink the tea and I’ll show you my bedroom.”

“Why…?” Voice hoarse you look at the sandwich in your hands. “Why would a brother do this?”

“Brock is not a good man, Darling. I want you to realize he would’ve forced you to your knees and make you blow any guy in this town off. After he paid me back my money, you are free to go but…” Pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point Bucky gently strokes your thigh. “I bet he’ll offer you to any other guy again…” Nodding you fist your dress hard enough to let your knuckles turn white.

“Did you talk to him?” Sam pants as he paces around the hallway, watching Bucky lead you toward his bedroom.

“I made sure he will not touch her unless she gives her consent. We are not animals nor bastards. I will not allow him to hurt this sweet girl.” Licking her lips Wanda swoons as she watches her brother gently place one hand onto your lower back.

“Dude, did you see?” Smirking Steve looks at Sam who watches Bucky open the door for you. “He held the door open for the girl…”

“Y/N, that’s her name. Now find anything out about her and Brock. I want to bring that bastard down for sure. How can he offer his innocent sister to my brother?”

“That’s my bedroom. Over there is a walk-in wardrobe, a bathroom is through that door. Only you and I are allowed in this room. The bed is huge, and you can have the right side.”

Ranting about sleeping on the left side to make sure he can shoot anyone trying to attack you Bucky paces around the room.

“Why would you protect me?” Glancing at the bed you gulp hard, imagining how many girls slept in the mobster’s bed so far.

“None…” Bucky smirks, stepping closer to take your hand in his, kissing your knuckles softly. “Only you were invited here so far. I have an apartment for my flings.”

Shuffling on your feet you don’t know what Bucky wants you to do. He seems to be up to no good, so you just stand there, waiting for the unavoidable to happen…

Eight weeks later you sit up in the bed, rubbing your sore eyes as Bucky is already talking on the phone. You can hear him yell at someone. Now and then the name of your brother leaves his lips and your heart drops.

While you try to leave the bed, Bucky stops right in front of you, dropping his phone onto the bed.

“We need to meet your brother today. He wants to pay me back my money today. Wear the red dress I bought, no talking and most important…” He carefully lifts your chin with his index finger. “Always stay by my side. No matter what I say, remain silent.”

“Okay…” Whimpering the word you feel the heat creep into your cheeks as Bucky stares at your exposed legs.

“Good, get dressed and behave, doll.”

Bucky’s hand grasps for yours, holding it in a tight grip as he leads you through the club.

There are girls shamelessly rubbing their sex against men, one is even blowing a customer off and you look away, disgusted as some of the men look at you, licking their lips.

“Brock!” Bucky fakes a smile as he does not shake Brock’s offered hand. “Sit, doll. Daddy has to talk to your brother.” Brock looks at you, not missing the fear in your eyes or the way you flinch away when he wants to cup your cheek.

“You trained her well, James.” Your brother chuckles and you want to vomit. “I told you she will be worth your money.”

“Well, you forgot to tell me I have to teach her everything first. I mean, not that I do not like a virgin hole, but you can only deflorate it once and after, it’s hard work to make her obedient.” Bucky talks about you as if you are a piece of meat but the hand under the table gently rubs circles into the skin of your thigh.

“I thought it’s a nice surprise. Y/N was always such a good girl, Mr. Barnes.” Hearing your brother talk low about you makes nausea well up to your stomach. If you could, you would scratch his eyes out.

“Let’s talk about my money, Brock. Do you have the other half or not?” Bucky squeezes your hand as your lips start to quiver the moment your brother shakes his head.

“We had an agreement.” Voice filled with anger Bucky glares at your brother and Steve needs to step in. “Boss, people are watching, not here.”

“Brock…” Sam sighs, giving you an apologetic look. “You already offered your innocent sister, threw her into the lion’s den. What could you possibly offer today?”

“You can keep her…forever. Make her your whore and if you are done, let your customers feast on the leftovers.” Brocks words make your stomach churn and you ball your hands into fists.

“Deal,” James smirks, taking your hand to place it onto his thigh. “I will keep her, and you will still pay me the reamining 100,000 bucks in two more weeks. If not, patting his gun Bucky tilts his head. “You’ll die…”

“You can’t do this; we had a deal.” Brock wants to jump up but Steve presses him back onto the couch. “Boss gave you a chance, bastard. Eight weeks, your sister as insurance and the last 100,000 bucks today. You broke the deal, not Buck.”

“I will keep your sweet sister and make her my favorite toy. Her pussy is golden and if I get bored, only if, she will work for me. I bet your father would be proud of you, knowing you sold his sweet girl to a bastard like me…”

“He only had eyes for her after adopting her.” Brock spats and you flinch at his expression. You always clung to your brother, adored him even.

“What a pity she adored a piece of shit like you, Rumlow. Now leave my club and let me have fun with my girl.” Bucky brings you onto his lap, squeezes your ass making you gasp at the prominent bulge in his pants.

“We need to make sure everyone in this club knows you are mine…” All eyes are glued to you and Bucky, so you do the only thing coming to your mind. You cup his face to press your lips to his.

Taken by surprise Bucky slides his fingers through your hair, pressing you closer to his face to deepen the kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and you gasp as you feel wetness dampen your panties.

“What was that doll?” Panting Bucky looks at you, eyes lust-blown he cups your face and you lean into his touch. “Don’t make me go insane underneath you, Darling.”

“I thought everyone needs to know I am yours, Mr. Barnes…” Whimpering the words you press your lips to his once again, this time you slip your tongue into his mouth and Bucky’s hands grope your ass, pressing you down his cock only to force a low moan from your lips.

“God, you are going to make me cream my pants right here, doll. Stop making promises you can’t keep.”

“Will you throw me at your customers when you get bored?” Searching Bucky’s face, you see a dirty grin appear on his lips as he slips one hand between your legs to toy with your clit. He never touched you like that before and you are sure he will find you wet and wanting.

“I told you on that day, you are mine. Only mine. I laid my claim on you Y/N. Now be good and don’t turn me on even more…”

“I watched some of your porn…” Blurring out the words you hide your face in his neck. “I don’t want you to touch other girls. I know about that redhead you meet four weeks ago. You smelled like her and I found her panties in your pocket.”

“Doll - are you jealous?” Smirking the mobster let you grind against his crotch, soaking his pants with your juices. “Do you want to be the one stuffed with my dick?”

“Only me…” Remembering what the girl did in the movie you nibble at his neck, biting him slightly and Bucky growls low in his throat.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll take you for the first time right here for everyone to see. I will claim your pussy right in front of Sam, Steve, and any other guy. I’ll spread you open and…” Biting his neck you moan with every dirty word leaving Bucky’s lip.

“Bring me to your bedroom and do it. I don’t want to wait any longer. I waited long enough…”

Two minutes later you are in Bucky’s limousine, your panties long gone, Bucky between your thighs as he wraps his lips around your clit.

“Oh…god…” Hands fisting his hair you feel his fingers run up and down your slit, but he doesn’t push in. “Bucky…”

“The first thing inside of you will be my cock, doll. Now just let me…Jesus…you are so goddamn wet for me.” Cursing against your sex James dives back in. Licking along your sex, teasing your entrance with his tongue while his thumb rubs your clit.

“Bucky…I’m gonna…” His hair in your hands you arch your back as he keeps on working your sex.

You must admit Bucky knows what he’s doing. Without hesitation, he dives in, uses his teeth, tongue, and lips to push you over the edge to leave you panting on the leather seats.

He covers your body to wrap his lips around one nipple while his hands make quick work of the remnants of your torn dress. “Only twenty minutes left doll, we can wait…”

“Fuck me right here like the whore I am to you. Don’t act as if I am someone special to you. This is what you expect me to do for your money after all.” Not meeting his eyes, you gasp as Bucky stops touching you.

“Y/N, I want you, I can’t hide it but not as your bastard of a brother sold you to me. Baby, I want you as my girl, my only girl…” Purring Bucky presses his lips gently against yours, brushing your soft pillows.

“I know what I am to you…” With shaking fingers, you grasp for his shoulders to press his body against yours. “Just take me and we can part ways as you planned…”

“Baby Girl, I swear I want to keep you as a precious treasure. Let’s stop right now and you can sleep in another room tonight. I won’t take advantage of you right now, doll. That’s wrong…” Before he can get away you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him. “Doll…”

“Bucky…” Eyes lust-blown you fist his shirt and he groans as you whimper his name. “Please fuck me right here and now. I want to be yours, make me yours even if it’s only for tonight…”

“No…I will take you to my bed as you deserve, not in the backseat of my limousine where I fucked countless chicks. Now take my jacket, wear it and I’ll make your mine…”

Sam tries to hide the smirk, while Steve doesn’t even try to hide it. Both men watch Bucky carry you into the Mansion while you nibble at his earlobe.

“Doll, for all that’s holy, stop making me lose control before we reach the bedroom…”

“Bucky…” Whining you slip one hand to his pants, squeezing him hard. “I want you…”

“Jesus, you are a handful for sure. I will have to marry you, I guess.” Laughing he stumbles into his bedroom to drop you onto his bed. Locking the door he growls as you drop his jacket and your ruined dress.

“Please…”

“I am on it, beautiful. Now let me get out of my pants, Y/N. I have to admit, you make me rock-hard and I can’t wait to conquer this pussy.” Lying on his bed you moan, writhing on the sheets.

Bucky kicks off his shoes, drops his clothes somewhere on the ground to get on the bed as fast as possible. While you try to process what you just started he settles between your legs, teasing your clit with the tip.

“Still time to stop…” Hesitating for a moment Bucky smirks as you shake your head, covering your eyes with your arm as he slides slowly into you. “Doll…oh…so fucking tight…”

Panting Bucky needs to stop to rub your clit in slow circles, you tried to hide the slight discomfort, but he knows you must be feeling the wide stretch. “So big…”

“Yeah, beautiful. Just relax, let me in and we can have the time of our life…”

Now you laugh at his words, not covering your eyes any longer you look down your body to watch the last inches disappear inside of you. “Perfect…you are perfect, Baby Girl…”

His hands are in your hair, lips against your throat when he slowly slides in and out of you. Bucky moans your name, tries anything to make you feel special, still, there’s the nagging feeling he will throw you away after tonight.

“I love the way you feel around me, Y/N. I could get used to having you like that every day.” His hands wander all over your skin to stop at your thighs to spread you wider, exposing you completely to the mobster.

While you close your eyes he can’t stop watching you writhe on his length with every thrust.

There is a spark he ignited and you are afraid he will burn you tonight, brand you with his name and leave you behind.

“You’re mine, only mine. No one is allowed to have you this way.”

Bucky grips the headboard hard enough to make the wood creak. With wide eyes you feel him go deeper and harder with every snap of his hips and you scratch your nails down his chest, calling his name as you have no other choice than to give in to the pleasure.

Vision blanking out you arch your back, not caring you can feel every thrust making you sore by now.

“Just like that, Baby Girl, Y/N…” Cursing in a foreign language James bucks into you, stilling as you feel warmth fill your womb.

“Bucky…” His eyes soften at the sight of your vulnerable, shuddering body underneath him. He’s gently cradling your face, pressing his lips to yours to make sure you know this wasn’t about paying your brother’s debts.

“Y/N, I want you to stay with me, want you to be mine. I’ll do anything to prove this is not about my money or the deal with your brother. I am sorry for what I said in the club, but weakness in public is not an option. I…” Blinking a few times James pecks your lips. “I love you, doll.”

“Fuck…” Laughing Bucky rests his forehead against yours. “That’s not the reaction I wanted to get from you, but yeah…I’d like to do that again.”

“I love you too…”

“Will you become my girl? Will you stay…?”

“I thought I am already yours. You told me so that first day…” Eyes meeting Bucky’s you give him a wink. “I’d like to show you I can blow you off one day too.”

“If you don’t stop talking dirty I’ll have to gag you and I might use my cock.” Threatening you Bucky bites your neck and you dig your nails into his back. “We will take our time, Y/N. I don’t want you to feel like one of those random girls.”

“I want to taste that dick. I read how to do it. Wanda helped me practice with a vibrator and all.” Giggling you watch James face turn red in anger.

“I will have a serious conversation with my sister later but…” Licking his lips he looks down at you. “I’d like to know what you have learned…”

“With pleasure but I have a few conditions…”

“Deal…”

“Deal…, Mr. Barnes…”

Part 2

All works Tags

@yolobloggers, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @miraclesoflove , @mogaruke, @shatteredabby, @soryuwifeyxx, @letsdisneythings, @i-love-superhero, @psychicforest, @thevelvetseries, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sabascio, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @trumpettay, @zxph-yr

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@stuckys-whore, @notyourtypicalrose, @voltage-my2dlove, @thedoctorscamanion, @officialmarvelwhore, @randomgirlkensy, @juniorhuntersam, @lumar014, @doctorswife221b, @sister-winchesters99, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, @the-soulofdevil, @chonisberonica , @redroomproperty, @natura1phenomenon, @chaoticfiretaconerd, @heartislubbingdubbing, @hhiggs, @sea040561 , @midnightsilver16830, @rvgrsbrns

Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

@rynabarnesrogers, @marshyrebelcloud, @buchanan-lover

980 notes · View notes

quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years

Text

Happiest Year

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 2,700

Summary: Bucky thanks you for the happiest year of his life.

Warnings: Angst (again lol)

A/N: No trick ending this time! The song gives it all away :( “Happiest Year” by Jaymes Young. Enjoy!

...

Month 9

He would never get tired of staring into your eyes. Its how he wanted to fall asleep at night: watching as your eyes fluttered closed slowly, wanting to stay awake with him, pillow talking, gazing into each other’s eyes. Its how he wanted to wake up every morning: watching you squint your eyes open at the sunlight shining from the window, softly smiling as you rubbed the sleep from those eyes.

“What are you lookin’ at,” you mumbled, tilting your chin up, curling up into Bucky’s side.

“Your eye boogers,” he grinned back, laughing loudly as you swatted at his chest.

You giggled back, playfully trying to shove him off the bed – obviously not strong enough. He hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, burying his face in your neck. “You jerk,” you laughed, breathless.

“I’m kidding, baby.” He kissed your neck, then straightened up to kiss your lips. “You know I love your eyes boogies.”

And that’s how it went. From month 1 to month 11. Every night falling asleep in each other’s arms, waking up in each other’s arms. Constantly laughing and poking fun at each other; it was all light-hearted fun. It was nice to have found someone to laugh with; he hadn’t felt so free in years. To be able to laugh with someone without worrying if you were the butt of the joke. To be able to live with someone who didn’t care or even know about his past; there were no reminders of that side of him: no files labeled The Winter Soldier, no agents leaving the room as soon as he walked in, and no having to look at Stark’s face every day – a painful reminder of the things he had done.

You who he was, sure. You knew about his past; he’d let you in on a few things. He trusted you. He knew that no matter how much money TMZ offered you, how much your friends poked and prodded you, you wouldn’t break; you’d happily take his secrets to the grave with you. But you never pressured him to telling you anything. You understood his boundaries and his desire to not become his past – to go backwards.

So, you propelled him forwards. He relearned emotions: how to accept them, express them, and not cower away from them. He learned how to become a human again; more specifically, the human he was before the war: charming, charismatic, a sweet talker.

It was nice to feel like his old self. It was something he never thought he would’ve felt ever again. Even after he was free from Hydra, welcomed to the Avengers with open arms, he never felt right. With you it was different. He was comfortable; there was no pressure with you. He didn’t understand how someone could be so patient. You waited until he was ready for every step of this relationship. And then love hit him like a fucking freight train. He didn’t know what it felt like; he just woke up one day, looked into your bright eyes, and said: “I love you.”

I’m really on the ropes this time

I’ve been fighting all my life for you

Month 9

He realized that that feeling is what he’s been missing his whole life. It was the only piece left to the puzzle he’d been dying to complete.

Everyone around him noticed it, too. Steve, obviously, could not be more elated that Bucky had found someone. He liked being the one Bucky could confide in, but he knew there way always something missing. There was only so much friendly compassion that could get someone through life. Sam never let Bucky hear the end of it, constantly teasing him about how Bucky would smile down at his phone every time you texted him, how Bucky would come home in the morning after spending the night at your house, how he only came around the tower when he had to: workouts, meetings, missions. “Hey snow queen,” Sam called to Bucky after one debriefing. “You ever plan on sleeping in your own bed again?”

Bucky turned to the man, staring blankly at him. “What?” He stammered, “why?”

Sam chuckled, enjoying the fact that Bucky didn’t know he was joking. “I was just wondering, since you’ve been staying over at a ‘friend’s’ — ” completed with air-quotes “ – house.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say – he was on the ropes for sure.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Relax, man, I’m happy for you,” Sam said, walking over to the man and clapping him on the shoulder. “You should bring her by sometime. Everyone would love to meet her.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. The only person who had met you so far was Steve.

Bucky never brought you by.

Yeah, we made each other bleed

And we tasted it

Month 10

It was hard when Bucky went on missions, for both of you. You didn’t want him to leave, but you understood his obligation to do so. It would be selfish of you to keep him to yourself. So, you bit back your tears, kissed him goodbye, and told him to return to you in one piece.

Bucky came home from missions high with adrenaline every single time. No matter how long the jet ride home was, he’d sit on the plane, leg bouncing furiously, thinking about returning home to you the entire time. Sometimes, he’d come home to you, allow you to calm him down, pull him into a warm shower; he’d let you wash the dirt and blood off his hardened body, double wash his long hair, and let you hold him – that’s really all he needed: your body in his arms, standing with his head tucked down in the crook of your shoulder. You would rub circles on his knotted back, soothing him, relaxing him.

Other times, the adrenaline would get the most of him, he’d run through the front door, sweeping you up off your feet into his arms, chest against chest, pulling you away from whatever task you were doing. At first you would giggle – it was cute. But Bucky was all business. Where one hand remained hooked under your thigh, holding you to him, the other quickly snaked up through your back and hair, finding the back of your neck, pulling your mouth to his. Your smile quickly faded into a moan and release of breath as he met you with an open mouth kiss. He swallowed your noise and wasted no time in slipping his tongue into your open mouth.

The kiss was sloppy, there wasn’t time for perfection; he needed your mouth on his, your tongue on his, your ass in his hand – he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth: “James.”

He missed you; he missed the noises you’d make. Each breath, moan, whine. Each time you’d mumble his name, as if it was the only word you’d remembered; scream his name, as if it was your only salvation.

And when you breathed his name into his mouth, he bit your unsuspecting bottom lip, kissing it again, sucking it into his mouth to run his tongue around the metallic taste that was now shared between your mouths.

I’m here to admit

That you were my medicine

Oh, love, I can’t quit

Month 10

He woke you up the next morning with a kiss. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, shutting again quickly, following with a yawn and a stretch. Bucky watched as you cozied yourself back up in the sheets, the cold morning air creating goosebumps on your naked skin. You pulled the blanket up to your chin, turning your head towards Bucky, greeting him with a smile.

And it was this look that Bucky could never grow tired of. It made saving the world worth it, just so he could come home to you again. So, he could watch you looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, gazing up at him in adoration.

Those eyes could heal any wound, cure any disease, and mend any broken heart.

I never should have said goodbye

But maybe that’s what stupid people do

Month 12

“James, please,” you pleaded, sobbing – wailing – holding your hands to his chest, white-knuckling fistfuls of his jacket, unwilling to let him go. “Why?” You begged to understand.

God, he felt stupid. He felt like an idiot.

Throwing away the past year – all the memories, intimate moments, love the two of you had shared – for what seemed, to you, like nothing. But he had been thinking about it for quite some time. Hell, he’d been thinking about it since day one.

It was a part of his programming: the way he’d lived for the past seventy-plus years. At first, it was that he wasn’t deserving. He didn’t deserve love, compassion; he didn’t deserve the featherlike touches of you trailing your fingers over his scars, your soft kisses on his lips, you whispering sweet nothings to him, telling him how much you loved him.

Then it revolved around the fact that he was a monster. That he would hurt you. It was never his intention, obviously. He wanted quite the opposite. But he’d have nightmares. He would wake you up in the middle of the night; you were tranquil, and you calmed him down. You let him talk if he needed to – which he did sometimes – but you never pressured him. You understood his demons for him and understood that he needed to deal with it in his own way.

One month ago, he had a nightmare, and woke himself up thrashing in his bed. Quickly scanning his surroundings, he found you hunched over on your side of the bed, wincing as you clutched your ribcage in silence. “Oh my god,” was the only thing Bucky could whisper, in complete disbelief. He did that. He did that to you.

He elbowed you in the ribs as you were laying next to him. You woke up with a gasp, rolling over, wincing in pain. You quickly settled your breathing, rubbing the area furiously as the pain subsided. Nothing felt cracked, maybe it would be bruised tomorrow. You turned towards Bucky, now quietly panicking on the edge of the bed. You reached out towards him.

He stared at your outstretched hand, hanging in the open air between the two of you. He was absolutely paralyzed in both his body and mind. Why were you reaching out to him? How could he do that to you – when he promised to never hurt you.

“Buck,” you croaked. “It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Yes. I. Did.” Each word was punctuated with a shaky breath. His whole body was shaking. He’d spent years and years inflicting pain against innocent people. But this one hurt the most.

You crawled over to him on the bed, Bucky matching each of your movements with a step backwards. You held your arms out to him. “James, please.”

…

“I can’t be with you. I can’t hurt you.” It was one month ago. You knew he was upset, and you knew he’d changed. He wouldn’t touch you anymore; he wouldn’t hold you at night. He let you curl up to him at night, wrap your arms around him, kiss him. But it became all you. He was scared to touch you; he didn’t know if he would hurt you again.

And it became increasingly clearer every day that passed by. What if one day he loses all control – just like that night? His mind was not secure; as much as he’d like to think that he was safe now, there was always a chance he could be brain-washed again – that his mind, his free-will, would be taken away from him again. After all that’s happened in his past, even his recent past, he could never rule it out as a possibility. And, as sad as it was, everybody knew that. Steve, Bruce, Tony – especially Tony – all kept an eye out. Everybody knew that except for you.

You didn’t know a few stupid words could trigger him into a murderous villain. It came out in the media that he was framed, yes, of course his record was cleaned; but you didn’t know the extent and the trauma that came along with it.

“You’re, hurting me now, how don’t you understand that,” you screamed through tears. He held onto your wrists, forcefully removing them from your deathlike grip on his coat.

“I’m hurting you now, so I don’t kill you later, (Y/N).” He was firm – you didn’t understand how he could be so calm when he was tearing your heart clean out of your chest. “I can’t put you through this anymore. I’ve hit you once and who knows if it’ll happen again. (Y/N), I don’t have control over my actions – you don’t get it – but I can’t explain it to you – ” he cut himself off, understanding that his rambling only made you cry further, dropping your face into your hands, choking back sobs.

You wiped the undersides of your eyes with your palms, sniffing loudly. “Then explain it to me. You know that I can take it – I don’t care what’s happened to you – I just want to understand.”

“I have to do this because I love you.”

Oh, I can’t quit

And I’m down on my knees again

Asking

For nothing

Month 13

It was thirty days that he spent in his room. He only ate what Wanda would cook for him, making Vision bring him – through his wall; it was invasive, but Bucky needed to eat. He only showered when Steve made him; he’d missed workouts and meetings, but when Steve barged into his room (through the door – literally), and pointed out how greasy and knotty his hair was, the brunet washed up in the shower, sitting on the floor with the hot water running over him for two hours.

He had to keep reminding himself that he was suffering for a reason. There was a reason. You were the reason. Protecting you. All your tears, your broken heart: to protect you. You would heal, eventually. It was hard to know when; but you were beautiful, intelligent, kind, you were everything good in the world. She’ll find somebody better soon, he reassured himself. But the thought of you with anyone – laughing with anyone, kissing, touching anyone – it brought him to his knees; his heart dropping six feet below him.

Bucky barred F.R.I.D.A.Y. from saying your name or anything related to you. He unofficially banned any of his housemates from saying it, as well. One day when Steve brought you up, Bucky punched him straight in the mouth.

That was about the only thing he’d done in the past month.

He didn’t read, didn’t watch TV, didn’t speak.

It was thirty days of silence.

He didn’t want anything.

He only wanted you.

He couldn’t have you any longer.

But there was nothing he wanted more.

So, wake me up when they build that time machine

I want to go back

Wake me up when you’re sleeping next to me

Cause I really loved you

Month 15

Steve wouldn’t let Bucky go on missions anymore.

Tony wouldn’t let Bucky leave the tower anymore.

Not that Bucky wanted to do either of those things. The only thing he found solace in was his bed. His bed with the lights off, blinds closed, curtains pulled shut. It was pitch black all the time. All he wanted to do was sleep.

But he couldn’t sleep. Not alone, anyway.

He wished he was comatose – on ice again. Nothing felt the same without you. There was no light, no taste, no color. The only color he could see was the color of your eyes, clear as day.

He wished he could go back. He would go back to any day in the last year; even if he didn’t get to pick the day. Any day with you was better than one without you.

Leaving you was the only way you’d be safe. He loved you enough to know that.

Thank you for the happiest year of my life

Thank you, (Y/N).

I’m sorry.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #fanfiction #angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

Text

A Need So Great-Chapter 9

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~3,300

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva sat in the conference room, trying hard not to fidget. Javier and Steve were to her left, and there was a projector sitting behind the table. None of them knew why they were sitting there. None of them knew when the meeting would start. All that they were told was that they were supposed to be sitting in that room by nine am that day. No exceptions.

The air kicked on, filling the room with a dull drone. Eva grabbed her pen and held it in her palm, using her thumb to slide the cap up and down along the length of it. She wanted to get up and take a lap around the room to excise some of the nervous energy she felt.

Javier lit a cigarette, sinking down lower into his chair, looking annoyed, “How long’ve we been sitting here?”

Steve looked at his watch, “About twenty minutes.”

“Fuck me,” Javier groaned, rubbing his eye, “I got about a thousand pages of paperwork that need to get done and we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses.”

She had to agree. She’d gotten a little behind with reading through case files. Although she was used to redacted information, she wasn’t used to whole sections of them being completely missing. As she moved through the most recent information, that was occurring more and more often. She thought she’d gotten the mole over two months ago, but now… there had to be more than one.

The door opened and Vanessa walked in. Eva inhaled deeply, her grip on the pen tightening until she heard the plastic crack. Jaw clenched, she sat up and prepared herself for the inevitable. Unable to help it, she glanced at the two agents she’d worked with so closely, already mourning the friendship they’d started to develop. She wondered if Connie would be calling to cancel their work out tonight.

Blinking, she turned her attention to the woman who signed her paychecks.

“Hello, thank you for waiting. I’m Vanessa Arnold.”

A tall, stately woman, dressed in a crisp suit, Vanessa looked at them with a critical gaze. She addressed each of them in turn, welcoming them to the meeting. Eva’s eyes narrowed as Vanessa sorted the stack of files in front of her. She knew those files—well worn over the years, and slowly growing.

“I am here,” she announced, her expression business placid, “Because I’ve heard some disturbing information and I would like to give you the opportunity to address it.”

Next to her, Javier stubbed out his cigarette, “What kind of information?”

Vanessa smiled, it was not a nice smile, “It has been reported to the States that you are engaging in some inappropriate behavior.”

Javier and Steve looked at each other, a whole conversation passing between them that Eva wasn’t sure she could decipher. Steve, who was sitting next to her, put his elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands. Javier stayed where he was, but she could feel the heat of the glare he leveled at Vanessa.

“Now, we deal with some very serious things, and sometimes that wears us down.” Standing, Vanessa circled the conference table, hand skimming over the chairs. “Sometimes, that leads us to forget our boundaries and the expectations of the DEA for its agents.”

Eva’s gaze followed Vanessa as she sauntered towards them, pace excruciatingly slow. She knew where this was going, had attended this meeting at least once in every location she’d been sent to, usually at about the six month mark. And yet, it still hurt. Vanessa knew how to make it hurt.

Javier cleared his throat, “With all due respect, Ms. Arnold, can you get to the point?”

There was that ugly smile again, “Absolutely. I’ve received reports that you and Agent Murphy are participating in social events with Mrs. Moore. Going out to bars, eating lunch together—Agent Murphy, your wife has been attending classes at the gym with Mrs. Moore, has she not?”

Steve’s mouth thinned, “She has. There aren’t many Americans in this country, least of all anyone who might be able to commiserate about life in close quarters with the DEA.”

Vanessa cast him a condescending look, “Still, it doesn’t exactly put you in a positive light, does it?”

Eva could feel the wheels of Steve’s mind turning as he processed what she’d said. He flicked his fingers out in a sharp motion before curling them into his palms, “I don’t understand. Eva is a contract consultant, paid by the DEA to work with us. How is associating with her outside of work a negative?”

Here we go.

Vanessa stepped back and flicked off the lights, then moved to the projector and turned it on, “Mrs. Moore is generally reticent to talk about it, but I feel its important for you to know who you are working with.”

The projector clicked and Eva’s mug shot flashed onto the wall opposite the group. She closed her eyes, working to control her breathing. She’d been released into police custody right out of the hospital. Her arm was still in a cast, her face heavily swollen and bruised. The picture was not flattering.

“Mrs. Moore was charged and convicted of the murder of her husband a few years prior to coming to work for us.”

Another click. Her husband’s picture, his professional photo, came up. Josh was impeccably groomed, smile wide and white, eyes clear and sparkling. She bit the inside of her cheek, stunned that she could still feel such hatred towards a person no longer living.

“This is Joshua Moore. A prominent doctor and businessman out of Louisiana. His practice was located just outside of New Orleans. He was most well known for donating large amounts to charities across the state.”

For the tax write off. And, to get the votes of the city councils.

Click. Their wedding picture. Eva felt bile rise in her throat. Fourteen years old, looking like a baby next to a twenty five year old who’d just started working for the local hospital. Her mother had picked out her dress—a frilly, lace encrusted thing that was a touch too long. She remembered how much her feet hurt from walking in the heels she needed to wear to keep the thing from dragging too much down the aisle. Standing at the altar had been excruciating enough that she’d stumbled over her vows.

“By all accounts, Mrs. Moore and her husband had a passionate relationship.”

Passionate is one way to put it.

In the beginning, she’d fought him when she thought he was being unfair. He’d scream, punch doors, throw things, eventually things devolved into physical beatings. It only took about a year for her to stop fighting and just do what he wanted. It was easier that way. Soon enough, he figured out how good she was at hiding things—money, product, herself—and he let her in on the family business.

Click. Their blood covered carpet with his outline marked in tape.

“One night, things got out of hand. Mr. Moore unfortunately lost his life at the hands of his wife.”

God, could she be a little less dramatic? Her voice had lowered down to a soft, sweet sound that grated on every nerve Eva had. She felt her mouth lift in a sneer before she could check the motion. Sniffing, she relaxed the muscles of her face, looking forward at the picture dispassionately.

Click. The trail of blood leading from the living room out the back door.

“When police arrived on the scene, Mr. Moore was found in the back yard, on fire. Autopsy reports state that he was set aflame post mortem. His cause of death was confirmed as blunt force trauma to the skull.”

Click. Her husband’s dead body, skin black and burned down to bone, laying atop a cart. Click. A close up of his face, half the skull missing. In bottom right corner, there was a little ‘R’ marked in what looked to be black permanent marker. This was the only new aspect of the photos. Every location. Every six months. Every photo. She’d seen them over and over and had them memorized. It didn’t seem possible that this little song and dance could still make her angry, but it did. She was tired of paying for a justifiable action she’d taken to save her own life.

Vanessa left the last photo up, moving to stand before them, one hand slipping into the pocket of her slacks. Eva kept her gaze steady, ready to take what would come next, the words that she’d heard for many years.

“Gentleman, you’re sitting next to a cold blooded murder, a person who took a life that was privileged and beat it to death with a fire extinguisher. Think about what kind of person could do that to someone they loved. This about who she would have to be to drag a dead body out of her house and set it on fire. Think about how associating with that kind of person reflects on you and your careers.”

The silence that followed was familiar and tense. Both men looking at Vanessa—Javier gently tapping his forefinger on the table, Steve with his head on his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed, but she kept smiling, “I’m going to let you keep thinking on that. Thank you for coming in. Have a nice day.”

And then she as striding out, her heels clicking on the tile. Eva watched her go, the door closing gently behind her. Eva just caught the face of that department head she’d nearly forgotten about as he approached Vanessa in the hall. She let the sneer form on her mouth, knowing that the rumor mill would start almost immediately.

The air in the room felt oppressive, the darkness only adding more pressure. Eva pushed a breath through her nose, scratching at the skin above her eyebrow as she tried to think of something to say.

Javier spoke for her, “What a load of bullshit.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. It was, indeed, a load of bullshit. She’d never had someone put it so succinctly so quickly following the presentation.

Steve leaned back in his seat, smashing the power button on the projector. It turned off with the groaning hiss of an air fan, leaving the room completely dark. Eva took the opportunity to swallow back the old feelings that had been drudged up in the last ten minutes. Ten minutes. That’s all it took for her to feel like shit again. She fucking hated Vanessa.

Javier stood up and flicked on the lights, returning to his seat and sitting heavily. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, offering the pack to Steve, who took it. Eva folded her hands over her chest and waited for someone to speak.

Steve tapped off ash into a faceted glass tray, “So that’s why you told us about it early on.”

“That’s why I told you about it early on,” Eva confirmed with a nod.

Javier blew out a lungful of smoke, “She do this often?”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“Every time, with every team.”

He nodded, leaning his forearms on the table, “You notice she left your files.”

“Yep,” Eva bit out.

It was a perfect strategy. If she hadn’t been up front about her husband, it would be impossible for anyone to ignore the fact that the whole story, in black and white, was sitting right there.

Steve reached out and placed his hand next to her on the tabletop, “You want us to read through it.”

She shrugged, “You can, if you want. Its a nicely worded story. Not too flattering to me, of course.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, another private conversation passing between them. She kept her expression neutral, not wanting to sway them one way or another.

Steve threw the butt of his cigarette into the tray, “Connie and I are having a pool party next weekend. You want to come? Carrillo, too.”

Eva felt her jaw drop, didn’t bother to conceal her shock, “You want me to come to a party.”

“Yeah,” he said, his mouth curling into a smile, “Maybe you can convince Javi, here, to put on a swim suit.”

“I wear swim trunks,” Javier cut in with mock anger.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Only because Connie won’t let you come if you’re not wearing appropriate attire.” Then, to Eva, “You got a suit?”

She nodded, “I do.”

“Good, bring a bottle of booze, and you’re set.”

Eva sat there, staring at him, her mouth open. It was one thing for her to tell them what she’d done. It was another thing to come face to face with pictures of her husband’s mutilated body and react with, what? Nonchalance?

Steve leaned towards her, “Connie wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t gotten her out of that restaurant. I don’t give a shit what you did to that guy. What you did, here? That’s what counts.”

She looked between them. Javier wasn’t talking, but he nodded as Steve spoke, offering silent support. Eva felt her chest constrict with a soft affection for them both. The relief was a physical thing, exhaling with her next breath.

“Thank you.”

Steve shrugged, “Don’t mention it. Vodka—bring a bottle. Wear your suit.”

As it turned out, Connie did not cancel their work out that night. She met Eva outside the gym at their regular time, looking at her like a friend. Eva had to cough into her hand to hide the surprised little shriek that wanted to burst out of her when the woman came into view.

They spent the hour sweating and huffing through a one challenging set after another, the sound of the instructor’s voice coaching them through the movements. Afterwards, Eva slumped on the bench, tossing back water and toweling off her face.

“That was fun,” Connie commented from her spot next to her.

Eva sent her a sidelong glance, “Fun is not the word I would use.”

Fun was sitting at a bar, drinking and hollering at the band. Fun was watching a ball game or shopping for new clothes. What they had just done was hard work—muscle burning, lung searing, skin sizzling hard work. Still, Eva enjoyed it, needed the release of endorphins.

“You know, one of the things I look forward to when I get back to the states is flaunting my newly hot body when I see those skinny bitches at my high school reunion.”

Eva laughed, “You’ll be the talk of the party—look at those biceps.”

Connie flexed, smiling wide, “Gotta get me one of those strapless, backless dresses, just to show off.”

“Oh, Steve’ll love that.”

“He would,” Connie said with a coy little tilt of her shoulders. “He tell you about the party?”

Eva nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been tasked with bringing a bottle of vodka.”

“And wearing a suit,” Connie asserted, pointing at Eva.

“I have one, don’t worry.”

“I want everyone dressed for the occasion, no office wear allowed.”

“Ah, damn, I’ll have to leave my pencil skirt at home.”

Connie rolled her eyes, “I’m so glad I get to wear scrubs. My feet still hurt at the end of the day, but at least its not from wearing heels.”

Eva took another long swig, “Yeah, but you do have to be one your feet all day. At least I get to sit down.”

“Pros and cons.”

Eva nodded, “Agreed. Pros and cons.”

“So, are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and Carrillo? Steve says you’ve been seeing him.”

Eva set down the water bottle. She’d been wondering, herself, when Connie was going to bring it up. Despite their weekly gym excursions, she hadn’t pushed. Eva was grateful—she didn’t really know how she’d characterize her relationship with the man. They weren’t...like, boyfriend and girlfriend. At least, not how she’d known the concept back before she’d been married. Companions, maybe. Friends, definitely. Friends who slept together. Friends with benefits? That felt too trivializing.

“We’ve gone out a few times,” Eva edged, standing and motioning for Connie to follow.

They walked towards the bathrooms, the humidity spiking from the showers as they passed through the doors.

“And?”

Eva opened her locker and pulled out her gym back, rustling around for her change of clothes, “And...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Sighing, Eva stood up and looked at Connie, “I don’t. Not really. I’m only on assignment here for another six months or so. I like him. I like spending time with him. I don’t know where I am from there.”

Connie fixed her with a level look, “You don’t want to get into anything serious because you think you’re leaving in six months.”

Eva thought about it,“Yes.”

“But, you like him enough that you’re willing to go out with him even though it might end sooner rather than later.”

Eva thought again, “Yes.”

She gave a little bob of her head, “That’s fair. Steve says he’s pretty intense.”

Eva didn’t have to think about that one, “Yes.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

Eva’s face scrunched, “You want me to say more?”

“Yes, for God’s sake!” Connie burst out, her hands flying in the air, “I want details.”

Eva laughed, “Let me get cleaned up and then we can talk details.”

Connie’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t think I’m going to forget. We’re going to the bar and you’re going to tell me everything.”

They did, indeed, go to the bar, although Eva didn’t really tell Connie everything. She talked about their dates, how he’d been polite and conscientious, how she felt when they kissed, and that she hadn’t yet spent the night at his place but she wanted to.

“You know, when I met him, I thought he was terrifying,” Connie commented as she sipped a gin and tonic.

Eva lifted a brow, “Why?”

Thinking for a moment, Connie settled on, “He was just so serious. Like, really, really serious.”

Eva could get that. The man could write a book on taking things seriously. Serious was in his blood. But, she’d seen him soft and sweet, too. She’d seen his dimples as he smiled. Seen his laugh. There was more to him than he showed to the world, more than a hard, scary man. It made her warm inside to think that she got to see that side of him.

“Shame that you don’t think it’ll last,” Connie said, a leading tone in her voice.

Eva brought her beer to her lips, “I have to go home sometime.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

The question caught Eva off guard. She realized that she didn’t exactly know. For a long time, Louisiana was home, and then Texas, and then a host of assignments. Now, it was Colombia. She’d been traveling for so long that she couldn’t root herself down anywhere. She didn’t even know if she wanted to. Her contract end date had been so far away for so long that Eva had never taken the time to work out what she would do afterward. Her record would be cleared, she would no longer be a felon. She would have years of work experience and a tidy little savings.

The possibilities were so numerous that Eva found herself unable to really settle on any one thing that she wanted—except, that wasn’t exactly true. Her heart, down deep, wanted what she might actually be able to have. A too serious, dimple-cheeked man who smelled like tobacco and vetiver.

Connie was looking at her, waiting for her answer. Eva just shrugged and ordered another round of drinks.

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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